A/N: I know. I disappeared for forever. Forgive me.

Chapter 13: No Doctors

The absence in the bed roused Robin awake. Through squinted, sleep-crusted eyes, she confirmed that her beau was not there. She breathed out a tired sigh before burying her face back into her pillow.

Frederick was probably doing something crazy at the asscrack of morning again. Jogging, lifting weights, or whatever insane exercise regimen he had concocted in that masochistic mind of his.

Eh, whatever made him happy.

Robin stretched out her muscles like a feline, wringing the sleep out of her body. Then, she relaxed and curled back into fetal position. She hugged the thick duvet close to her chest and smelled Frederick on them.

It wouldn't kill him to stay in bed for once.

Robin lifted her head up from her pillow to check the double-bell analog clock on Frederick's side of the bedside table. Funny how she never heard the thing ever ring. He probably always woke up before the alarm even went off.

6:35 AM.

What was wrong with her? It was bloody early. Disgustingly early. The only explanation was that it took her a couple days to grow accustomed to sleeping in new environments and she never did sleep well on days where she had to get up early the next day.

Groaning, she rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. Everything ached in the morning. Her side, her broken leg, her head. It was as if she had become an old lady over night.

Robin got up and reached over for the crutches that had been obviously leaned against the wall by Frederick before he left. She slouched over the crutches, flooded with regret that she got out of bed. Nevertheless, her bladder threatened to explode unless she relieved herself.

Being human sucked. Damn bodily functions.

A baby learning how to crawl was probably faster than her as she made her way to the bathroom in the master bedroom. And now her armpits ached from the pressure of the crutches.

After overcoming the challenge of relieving herself, she washed her hands and just wiped her hands on her shirt. She saw that Frederick had been thoughtful enough to leave her toiletry bag on the sink counter.

"Awwe, bae." He was so precious.

On a normal work day, she'd be stripped down to her underwear while she prepared for work. She always put on the coffee and toast when she brushed her teeth. The aroma of fresh coffee in the background would entice her to hurry up. But she wasn't home and today, she didn't quite have all of it together. There was a throbbing in her head that made crawling back into bed more appealing than a cup of coffee.

The haggard woman in the reflection blinked back at her, toothbrush in mouth. Robin spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth and the haggard woman followed. Then, she dropped her toothbrush into the cup with Frederick's toothbrush.

Outside the washroom, the bed called her name. She muttered to herself, "Get it together, Robin. You have work."

Robin ran her fingers through her silver hair and stopped when she spotted the butterfly stitches on her forehead. She avoided the mirror when she had been in the washroom at the hospital, but now she was in too deep. The cold edge of the bathroom counter dug into her stomach when she leaned in to study the cut. She scowled. It was going to scar.

In the distance, she missed the sound of the door unlocking because she was too busy pouting and fixating on her forehead.

"Eugh, Mom's going to freak," she murmured. Hell, she was freaking.

"You're up early," Frederick called from the living room.

Robin straightened up and poked her head out of the washroom. "I only sleep in during the weekends. Despite what you think, I do have my shit together even if I don't wake up before the sun rises to physically torture myself."

She heard him laugh and she smiled. She debated moving, but didn't have the energy. Robin knew he'd come to come greet her.

A couple more moments passed before Frederick came in. "Good morning, beautiful." The tight training shirt stretched over his fit, muscular chest and his ass looked damn fine in his shorts.

"Morning, handsome." Robin yawned. "How are you always #flawless after you work out? I usually look like I wrestled a homeless person for a candy wrapper and lost."

"It's all in your imagination," said Frederick. He yanked off his shirt, his back muscles rippling with the motion.

"Mmm…"

"Are you done with the washroom? I need to shower. Or should I go to the other washroom?" asked Frederick.

"No, no. Stay. I like watching you strip," said Robin.

"Sounds like you're all better already," teased Frederick. He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I slept fine. Oh, wait. Have you seen this?" Robin demanded, pushing her hair aside to show the white stickers on her forehead. "It's going to scar," she whined.

"I don't see anything."

"Lies!"

"Love, you will always be beautiful to me."

"Mom's going to freak out when I get home. She's also going to freak out that I got fat—"

"You're not fat."

"I will be by the time I'm out of this cast, Frederick. I will be! And I don't know how it works for guys, but for women, no matter how thin you are, you're still somehow fat."

Frederick sighed. "Dearest, I will love you even if I have to roll you around."

"No, you won't," said Robin. "You'll leave me for a younger, more hotter version of me."

He cupped her face. "Now, why would I do that when the woman I want to grow old with is right here in front of me?"

The stream of insecurities came to an abrupt halt. They had discussed marriage, but it was more so about the institution of marriage, not marriage as in them tying the knot.

Chrom and her had discussed marriage before and didn't find it all too comfortable. Robin, in specific, didn't find it too comfortable. Maybe it was because they were younger then. Maybe it was that their families wouldn't get along. Or maybe it was because she found challenging to believe in the idea of being trapped in a marriage, especially since she had grown up watching her dysfunctional, weird parents. But maybe not all marriages were like that. Besides, most people learned about marriages based on what their parents were like.

Finally, she uttered a word. "Really?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

A bright blush dusted her cheeks. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Frederick chuckled. "Good." He released her. "Okay, love. I need to shower and we need to eat breakfast before we head out."

"Mmhmm…" Robin hummed, eyeing his body. Not only was he going to be a great life partner and a family man, but he also had the body of a sex god.

"No, we don't have time."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You're doing the thing, where you bite your lip. And you know I can't resist you when you make that face. I'd say you can join me, but your cast."

"You suck."

He took her hand and brought it up to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. Then, he placed it on his chest and allowed her to trail her hand down his chest and his abs. Robin swallowed.

Frederick smiled. Robin knew he was savouring the opportunity to tease her for once. He deserved it since she relished in driving him mad every opportunity she got. "Maybe next time. When you're better."

"You have no idea how much I hate you right now," Robin muttered, before struggling away on her crutches and failing at slamming the door. "I hate you so much."

"I love you too, dearest," he said from behind the door.

The sound of the running shower echoed in the washroom.

"Fuck. Now I'm horny," grumbled Robin. "You suck!" she shouted over her shoulder once more.

A humming was accompanied by the sound of the shower.

"Sure, I've been better, but I'm alive," Robin reassured her team. Everyone else around them peaked over from their tables, watching her team hug her. "Guys, please. You're heavy. Kellam, get Sumia some tissues."

Sumia sniffled. "We were so worried."

"Where's Maribelle?"

"She's getting some files from the finance department," said Cordelia, releasing Robin from the group hug.

"How behind are we?" asked Robin.

"Who do you think I am?" scoffed a voice.

Robin smiled. She could recognize that huffiness anywhere. Slowly, she turned around and grinned at Maribelle. "Hey, Maribelle."

"We both know I am more than capable of holding down the fort for a couple days." Maribelle strutted towards her with an armful of folders. "The Magic Cube is good to go. The marketing team wouldn't give the prototype back because they were having so much fun with it."

"Did you get it back?" Robin laughed.

The Magic Cube was the most recent idea Robin had pitched. It was a small cube that could be used as a projector, speaker, clock, and portable phone charger, depending on what face you were using. The creative director loved the idea and gave the green light on the day Robin had pitched it.

"Of course I did," said Maribelle, digging out a cube the size of a Rubik's cube except that it was completely white with rounded corners and sleek finish. "Marketing heard about what we're up to and I think Vaike called dibs on it."

"I was thinking we could do a wood finish too. And for limited edition ones, we could make patterned ones. I'll leave that up to you, Kellam, since you've always done a solid job with picking out the best materials for it," said Robin.

"Won't let you down," said Kellam.

The crutches dug into her armpits. "Were there any product quirks that we need to iron out?" asked Robin, taking a seat.

Maribelle set a folder in front of Robin. "Development thinks they can increase the resolution of the projector and improve the sound system, but it'll jack up the prices. And I know there is no way in hell that you'll sacrifice design."

Robin opened the folder and flipped through their original design blueprints for the Magic Cube and read the notes here and there. Maribelle was right. She didn't like compromising on design. They'd probably suggest using cheaper materials.

"Is that what you told them?" asked Robin.

"Again, Robin. Who do you think I am?" Maribelle smiled.

"Of course you told them no. It's you."

"Exactly. I did what you would've done."

A slight throbbing pulsed at Robin's temples. She winced.

"Don't you think you should take it easy?" asked Cordelia. "We're already far ahead of the other creative teams."

"Don't worry. I'll take it easy," said Robin. "I can't think of anything."

A wave of nausea hit her and her body demanded that she find a washroom to expel her breakfast. Robin gripped her crutches.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good," said Sumia.

"I'll be right back," said Robin. Had the lights always been this bright?

Robin broke out into a cold sweat as she barely made it into the washroom. Desperately, she rushed as fast as she could to the closest available stall, but her ID key card got caught when she closed the door.

Her breakfast was coming up and it didn't care if she was stuck or not. Robin fell onto the floor, her key card unclipping from the pocket of her skirt, and falling onto the floor on the other side of the door. She clutched the toilet like it was a life raft and expelled the contents of her stomach. The ringing in her ear and spinning of her head worsened everything.

Someone knocked on her stall door. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…" Robin gagged. "…okay. Just not feeling well."

No one liked vomitting, but Robin especially hated it. Whenever she did vomit, the smell would make the entire process a positive feedback loop, causing her to hurl even more.

Another voice joined in. Probably a friend of the woman who asked the first question. "Do you know who it is?"

The first person who spoke picked up Robin's ID key card. "Umm…hey, Robin. You dropped your key card out here."

"Just slide it under the—" Robin gagged again, "door."

The stranger did as she was told. There was a moment of peace, where Robin knew that there was nothing more to barf out. She spat out the vile taste in her mouth and her hand tried to find where the flusher was.

Outside, the main washroom door opened. "I didn't know she still worked here. I thought she was fired a long time ago," whispered the first woman.

"Who?" asked the second woman.

"I guess you wouldn't know since you're new," said the first woman. "I'll tell you later. You don't think she's pregnant? I mean, Chrom Exalt just came back."

Robin's tight grip on the flusher loosened. She didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation beside the door swung shut. She picked her head up to wipe her mouth on crappy one-ply toilet paper and to flush the toilet. For a moment, as she sat there on the cold washroom floor, she found that she was hurting more than before arriving in the washroom.

Her head dropped in guilt and shame, even if she had committed no wrong, she coached and reassured herself that it was going to be okay.

Chrom flipped through his notes on his tablet, reviewing and rehearsing what he was going to say to Frederick in the company's cafeteria. His father preferred him to join him and the execs for lunch on the top floor, but Chrom hated how stuffy it was.

Today's lunch menu was pretty great too. Currently, he was making his way through a fresh salad and chicken stroganoff. He picked his fork up again to take another bite.

He was ready to go on his own independent path and he needed some distance from Frederick. He needed some distance from both of them. This conversation had to go perfectly.

"You should eat at lunch time. Not work."

Chrom looked up to see Frederick with his lunch tray and turned off the tablet. "Hey, Frederick."

"May I join you?"

"Yeah, by all means, please. Sit."

The mentor took his seat across from Chrom. "Are we going to be okay, Chrom?"

"Yeah, why do you say that?" asked Chrom.

"There's a hesitancy in our interactions ever since our last lunch," said Frederick.

"Like how in Naga's name did she snag him?" said a female employee. She sat at the table next behind Chrom.

"I thought we were cool," said Chrom.

"Oh, I know. I heard from some people on Creative overheard her vomitting in the washroom," said the woman's friend, sitting down. "Like come on, he just got back. How do you get knocked up that fast? Did she fuck him the moment he stepped back in the country?"

Both men turned their attention to the table behind Chrom. They knew who the women were gossiping about.

"She probably fucked him on the plane. Like seriously," she continued. "I thought they fired the slut ages ago."

"I know. You know what they used to call her?"

"Oh my gods, what?"

"Triple S."

"Triple S?"

"Slutty sloppy seconds."

Frederick cleared his throat. Chrom leaned on the back of his chair contemplating how exactly to go about addressing this.

The girl who was farthest from Chrom finally noticed him. He gave her a forced, practiced smile, and a small wave. She gawked, growing red.

"Do you think it's actually his?" asked the girl who wasn't aware of Chrom's presence yet. "What? Something on my face?" She turned around and her jaw dropped open. "Mr…Mr. Exalt."

"Chrom's just fine. Mr. Exalt is my father. I would like to remind you that there is a zero tolerance for gossiping and spreading rumours at this company."

They nodded and scrambled away, their heads bowed in embarrassment. When Chrom turned back around to converse with Frederick, he was gone as well.

Chrom looked around and almost missed Frederick leaving the cafeteria. He also stood up to check up on Robin, but stopped himself and sat back down. He made a promise.

Dejected, he sank back into his seat. It was Frederick's place to rush to her side, not his. Then possibility of Robin being pregnant flooded this mind. Was that it? Were they never going to reconcile?

Was it Frederick's? Of course it was the Frederick's. She sure as hell wasn't sleeping with him. That didn't sound like Robin though. Her parents would kill her if she had a child out of wedlock.

This was going to ruin the rest of his day.

He sighed.

Frederick arrived on the Creative and Designs floor and stepped off of the elevator. He veered right, eyes searching for Team 5's habitat. People dressed in casual attire—he swore he saw someone in sweatpants—passed him, their curious stares pointing out the well-dressed anomaly from upstairs that had managed to get lost on the wrong floor.

It wasn't his first time on this floor. When everyone left for home, Frederick would on occasion drop by when Robin was working late to ensure she was fed and to simply spend time with her. So he immediately recognized Team 5's cluster near the window with letters casting shadows of words and quotes into the space.

A blonde with ringlets had a hand on Robin's shoulder and the other hand held a box of tissues. She was saying something to Robin. Robin had her head buried in her arms and shook her head. Two of her other teammates walked over to her and spoke to her. It looked like she were trying to persuade her to go home.

Frederick didn't care if there were prying eyes. The concussion was bad if she was vomiting.

He walked over to the group and stood behind them.

"Robin, you should go home. I knew you returned too early to work. You still need to rest," said Maribelle.

"We can handle things here," said Sumia.

Frederick cleared his throat. All of them turned their attention to Frederick.

"Mr. Knight," said Maribelle. "What brings you here? You normally send Vaike."

Robin picked her head up, frowning. Her eyes watered at the sight of him. She mouthed 'hey'.

"Could I take Miss Grima for a moment? We need her insight on advertising for the Falchion phone accessories," said Frederick.

"I don't think this is the best moment," said Cordelia.

"No, it's okay." Robin grabbed her crutches and stood up.

It took Frederick an enormous amount of self-control to not help her. It would've looked far too intimate if he did.

"I'll be right back," said Robin, over her shoulder.

Frederick slowed down his long strides so that Robin could follow him. He led her to the floor kitchenette, shooed out the young man making himself coffee, and closed the door behind them.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Robin sat down in a chair, head bowed. "No."

"I'm taking you to see a doctor."

"No. No more doctors. I just want to lay down."

"Robin, don't be stubborn. I know an excellent sports physician that specializes in concussions."

"Of course you do. Frederick, I just want to go home."

"I'm serious. Robin. Go grab your things, we're going. I'll meet you at our usually spot."

Robin groaned. "Frederick, just take me home. Please."

She was wrapped in the soft blanket she had claimed as hers the first time she had ever come over to his place. A scowl had settled on her face and stayed for the past two hours. When Frederick occasionally glanced over at her end of the couch, he saw that she had her undivided attention on the TV.

"How long are you going to be upset for?" asked Frederick.

Robin still didn't look over at him. Instead, she pulled the throw closer over her shoulders. The sloth on the screen dropped into the water in pursuit of finding a potential mate on the other side. Robin gasped, surprise replacing her discontentment. "Sloths can swim? What?" She uncurled from her position and nudged Frederick with her foot. "Did you know sloths could swim?"

"I thought you weren't conversing with me."

"Sloths can swim!" shouted Robin.

"Yes, it's very interesting," he said. "Robin."

"I'm still pissed," she said in monotone.

"I was trying to help."

"You dragged me out of the car like I was a sack of potatoes. That's hardly helping," grumbled Robin.

"You were refusing to help yourself."

"I said no to the doctor. I don't get why you don't get that. And then you called me a child."

"I didn't call you a child. I said you were behaving like one."

Robin finally turned to him, clearly irritated. "How is that any different? Tell me. How is that any different?"

He responded with an exasperated sigh. "Then how will we know what's wrong?" They had been arguing about this on and off for the past two hours about what happened in the parking lot of the sports medicine clinic.

"It's because of my concussion."

"I don't suppose you have an MD with a specialization in neurology."

"The internet said it'll go away in due time."

"You're an expert now then."

"Don't sass me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are! And the doctors at the hospital said so too. That I may have post-concussive symptoms. They won't help anyway. They'll just prescribe bed rest."

"I still think you should see Dalen."

"You're seriously not going to drop this, are you?"

"I care about you. I've seen concussions ruin people's lives before."

"I'll be fine."

"Robin, I'm serious. I've watched teammates' lose their livelihood when I used to play rugby."

"You used to play rugby?"

"Yes."

"Like in high school?"

"Yes. And in university. And I went pro for a year, but decided to quit. Exactly for the reasons for why you're feeling awful."

"You played pro? Rugby's similar to football, right?"

Frederick rubbed his temples. "No. It's very different. It's a gentleman's game. Football is like rugby but with large amounts of protective gear."

"So you're calling football players pussies right now."

"I didn't say those exact words."

"But you're not denying it."

"Let's just the football and rugby team at Ylisstol U had a lot of friendly competition."

"Wait. So you're telling me that the athletes that run around half-naked to raise money in the middle of winter on campus was not the football team, but the rugby team?"

"Ah that. No, that's probably the football team. We were far more tasteful. Calendars."

"Calendars?"

"Yes. Sex sells."

"Oh my gods. Like an adult calendar?"

"It was for charity."

"Right."

"We raised quite a bit of money."

Robin smiled. "I'm not gonna believe you until I see one of these calendars."

"I'm sure Mum will dig it out. She likes to overshare all our achievements in the family."

She laughed and returned to watching the documentary. "Sounds like family. Now, I'm really excited."

The couple listened to the smooth voice of the older gentleman narrating the birds waddling through the forest on the island waiting for their mate. The male penguin wandered the island looking to see if his lifelong mate had arrived yet, passing the other united penguin couples. The narrator speculated that perhaps the female penguin died before making it to their rendezvous point.

"Do you think he'll find his mate?" asked Frederick.

"He'd better or I'm going to break your TV."

Finally, the female penguin showed up and the two penguins did their special dance, rubbing their necks and beaks together. Both Frederick and Robin sighed in relief.

"They found each other." Robin poked at him again from the other side of the couch again. "They're so cute. Life would be simpler as a penguin, wouldn't it? Do you think if we were penguins we would've found each other?"

"I think so," said Frederick.

"I'm still pissed at you."

"I know."

"But I'm cold right now so you're going to warm me up. But that doesn't mean we're okay."

"I know, love. Come. I'll keep you warm."

It didn't take them long to rearrange themselves with Robin lying on top of Frederick on the couch. His arm rested around her on top of the blanket. They didn't exchange words until the end of the documentary.

"Next episode?" he asked.

"No, I'm hungry."

"Okay, we need to get up then."

"No," she whined. "I'm comfortable."

Frederick kissed her on the top of her head. "I can't make us anything to eat if you don't let me go."

"Think of something. There's nothing you can't do, Mr. Knight."

"Well, not nothing. I can't get you to see a doctor."

"Frederick. Drop it. I don't need you stressing me out on top of the rumours that are going to start circulating at work soon."

"Rumours? What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not pregnant."

"I didn't assume you were. Based on your last period, your accident, and our abstinence, pregnancy was extremely unlikely. And considering the severity of the accident, you would've miscarried."

"Nerd. You know my body better that I do. But some girls overheard me in the washroom."

Frederick nodded slowly, recalling the earlier gossip in the cafeteria. "Don't concern yourself too much with it."

"Eugh." Robin buried her face into his chest. "Rumours spread like wildfire in that damned company."

"Do you want me to talk to Chrom tomorrow?"

"I'd rather go see the doctor."

"Well, that's great. Because I already made an appointment for tomorrow."

She snapped her head up and shot him a death glare. "What?"

"Dalen is very excited to meet you. He used to be an old teammate. You can ask him about what I was like back then. He'll probably tell you all my embarrassing misadventures."

"Don't bribe me with your interesting past!"

A/N: I decided to actually use Tumblr. I've started writing drabbles I won't be posting on AO3 or . So if you wanna check that out, it's under the same username on tumblr-musicribbons. I can't seem to post the link on FF.

And now we all have a method of poking at me when I disappear for months. :D