Author's note: this was written for 3 prompt of my Hurt/Comfort bingo card from sweetspicybingo on Tumblr: "I said no!" to cathartic shower; scarring to good night's sleep; ambulance ride to stuffed animal.
LULLABY
She doesn't understand, and she is scared, but she is trying to be brave as daddy always told her to, waiting for mummy to come back.
The grownups have been gentle, and have given her some juice and the lady with the long hair has stayed with her, telling her everything will be alright, but she has gone to retrieve Coco from the car now. But she is scared, her arm itches where the glass has cut her and the kind lady has put a band-aid on it, and she is alone now, and daddy has not arrived yet and mummy is still in the car. No one ever tells her anything, and she is trying so hard not to cry. Brave little girls do not cry, always says daddy, and she is trying to be brave, but she is also scared and she just wants Coco and her mummy, and there is a man crying loudly near mummy's car and she thinks he doesn't have a daddy to tell him how to be brave.
The sirens are so loud. The grownups are shouting, and daddy would not approve because she is trying to listen to what they say, but there are so many difficult grownup words. She looks at her leg, concentrating hard like she does when mummy teaches her to play the piano and she can't remember how to use her fingers. There is some blood on them, but the kind lady said it's because the glass cut her arm, and she was kind so Rinoa believes her. She can't understand what they say. There are so many scary sounds, and she looks at her feet, with the white shoes her mummy bought her that day because she was such a good girl. They are all dirty, now, and she wants to tell mummy she is sorry because she promised she would be careful. The man is still crying. Some more grownups are yelling. There is a boom, and then a clang, and then a whirl, and then a screech, and she tries to be brave because they all remind her when the other car pushed them so hard, and mummy not answering when she called her, and she just wants mummy and Coco.
She is very brave when daddy comes to sit next to her and hugs her so tight. He looks scared, too, and Rinoa cannot be brave anymore, and she starts to cry against daddy's shoulder as he wraps a hand around her head. "Daddy got you, Rinoa," he says, with a voice very, very low.
"Where is mummy?" she sobs, as the scary sounds grow louder around them.
Daddy is silent, but then he says: "she is very tired. She needs to rest."
Rinoa sniffles. "Can I wake her up? I didn't tell her goodnight."
Daddy shakes his head. "We have to let her sleep for a while," he says, and his voice is so strange now. Rinoa thinks he sounds like the man crying near mummy's car.
The lady comes back with Coco in her hands, and when Rinoa takes it she feels his feathers are all wet, and she doesn't understand. Then daddy caresses her face, and she looks at him. His eyes are so strange. She has never seen them so red. "Are you hurt, too?" she asks, her fingers reaching for the bandaid to toy with it, until the lady gently pushes her hand away. But it itches.
"No, dear," daddy says, and then he looks at the lady and the lady closes the big doors of this strange car. But then they start moving and Rinoa starts crying again.
"We can't leave mummy alone!" she shrieks, and daddy tries to hold her against his chest, but Rinoa just wants her mummy. She just wants to see her, because she was still in the car and they have to wait! If she's tired, they have to bring her home and she still has to say goodnight!
"Mummy will come soon," says daddy. "We will wait for her with the nice lady who helped you."
Rinoa sniffles, throwing her arms around her Coco, with his feathers all wet for a reason she can't understand. "Will the lady help mummy too?" she says, finally, and daddy still has red eyes and his voice is so, so low.
"Yeah," he says. "Of course she will."
Rinoa is still scared. She doesn't understand, and no one ever tells her anything, not even daddy. She squeezes Coco as she does at night, when it rains and there are big booms outside and she can't go to mummy because daddy is home and he doesn't want her to wake them up when she is scared.
She will ask mummy when she's not tired anymore and she wakes up.
She holds Coco tight, sniffling against his wet feathers. She is tired to be brave.
Somehow, Coco still smells like mummy.
When she wakes up, the smell of her mummy on Coco mixes with the odor of disinfectant, and just a second later, with her husband's aftershave.
She opens her eyes, getting her bearings. Her neck feels stiff and hurting, and when she tries to turn and lie on her back, she feels so dizzy she has to close her eyes again. There is a movement on her side, and a hand gently pushes a lock of her hair off her face. She breathes deeply and opens her eyes again, focusing on Squall, sitting on her bed, and waiting for her to say something.
"What happened?" she says, her voice raw and difficult. He pours her a glass of water and helps her sit up and drink it. Somehow she hasn't realized her mouth and throat feel parched until now, and she gratefully gulps down the water as he watches her.
"A drunkard hit your car while you were coming back from Balamb City," he answers, setting the glass on her nightstand.
"I don't remember anything," she says, her voice breaking on the last word, and Squall sighs, affectionately rubbing her leg.
"Selphie says you were falling asleep when it happened," he replies. "She also joked about you being too tired to actually party, so when she can drive again you'll have to go back and be serious about celebrating this time."
Rinoa gives a mirthless giggle. "Yeah," she says, with no further word. Her dream about being five, sitting alone in an ambulance while firefighters and paramedics were running against time to extract her mother from her car's wreckage, has left a bitter and painful aftertaste in her mouth, something that not even her doting husband's presence or her beloved friend's jokes can soften. Then: "How are they?"
Squall sighs. "Selphie has a sprained wrist. Painkillers are making her even more chatty than usual. Irvine is with her now."
Rinoa nods, fighting against some more dizziness. Maybe this will bring her friends closer together once again. "What about Quistis and Kavya?"
"Quistis has a rib injury, and she keeps telling Nida that it hurts to talk because she also has a mild concussion and he is hell-bent on not letting her sleep. Kavya has a mild concussion too, apparently slightly more serious than Quistis', so they'll monitor her all night and Zell will stay with her, whether the staff likes it or not. As for you... I should call in the doctor. You only have a few scratches on your arms and a deeper cut that required stitches," he concludes, gently running his fingers around the bandage covering her cut. "You've all been very lucky."
"Yeah," she says, slowly swinging her legs out of the bed. The cold floor on the naked skin of her feet makes her shiver, and Squall takes her cardigan from a chair and places it around her shoulders. "Can we go home now?" she says, her voice breaking once again. "I want to see my friends and go home," she adds, and Squall places his arm around her, squeezing gently, mindful of her injuries.
"Let's call the doctor so she can examine you, ok?" He gently tilts her chin up to look into her eyes, and he can almost see her protest vanishing when she finally sees how worried he is. "Just to make sure," he adds, to soften the blow. She doesn't like doctors, hospitals, the smell they have in winter, and he knows about that ambulance ride, twenty years ago, when she had only her scared father and a wet Coco to console her. He knows she has put together the pieces of her mother's death: the grownup words she didn't understand, describing her mother's fatal injuries, cold and detached on the hospital's documents - rib fractures, pulmonary contusion, liver laceration, spleen rupture, traumatic brain injury, multiple pelvic fractures; the sounds of the tools trying to extract her mother from the car; and the fact that her stuffed animal was wet because a paramedic had taken the pains to wash Julia Heartilly's blood off of it. He knows she probably wants to see her friends, and make sure they are ok because she still remembers everyone telling her that mummy was ok when in reality, her mother was slowly succumbing to her injuries. And he knows she probably will curl on their bed and cry on his chest, and he will be unable to alleviate her suffering, and that doesn't mean he won't try anyway.
So Rinoa is brave, once again. Feeling her husband's gaze on her as the doctor examines her arms, and then her eyes, and asks question after question before telling her she can go home, she is as brave as she was back then, not crying because her father told her that brave girls don't cry, and when the doctor finally exits the room and Squall begins gathering her things, she can't help a sigh of relief.
Quistis is still trying to convince Nida that talking hurts her ribs, so she can't really chat or her boyfriend will see right through her ruse, but she looks fine, and Kavya is having a nice conversation about martial arts books with Zell, when they enter her room, and she doesn't look particularly bothered by the idea of spending the night being regularly monitored. Both will probably be discharged in the morning, and Kavya manages to crack a joke about having a nice after-accident breakfast together, wincing through her headache when she laughs.
They are fine. They are truly fine.
Selphie is discharged too, and Squall was right - painkillers made her chatty, and Rinoa can only answer absent-mindedly, still wrapped in the painful dream about her past, unable to recall something from the present so she can joke with her friend and push away the intrusive thoughts that are not allowing her to appreciate how immensely lucky they were. She feels just like a filler, not really listening to Squall and Irvine's conversation from the front seats, and putting in words when there's a pause in her friend's oblivious chatter. She even manages a tired smile when Selphie tells her that they will probably have matching scars on their arms.
She doesn't say anything. She simply slips her hand under Selphie's elbow, careful not to hurt her sprained wrist, and lets her friend draw a yellow Chocobo on her bandage. For a moment, she is still the five-year-old girl, letting her Coco comfort her, and she almost can smell the perfume of her mummy, of Coco's wet feathers, of her father's strong mint aftershave, mixing with the disinfectant and the new plastic odor on Selphie's splint.
In their apartment, there is the usual scent of warmth that always makes her feel so loved.
From her side come the sweet nuances of her birthday bouquet: first, the strong fragrance of freesias, pleasant and intense, mellowing into the subtler perfume of irises and daffodils. Her mother would love the explosion of color of her flowers; she thinks she would dote on her son-in-law. She gently runs her fingers on the flowers, as Angelo brushes against her legs and Squall throws the car keys on the table by the door.
She thinks her mother would approve of so many things in her life. She would adore her dog, support her studies, help her through her indecision about having kids, and gush with her over her husband's sweet gestures.
There is a knot tying her voice when Squall stops behind her and he hugs her, squeezing her tenderly, mindful of her cuts. She feels his lips on her temple, and she feels grateful for this comfort, even though her mind is still running round and round about the horrible night she lived at five years old. She shivers, thinking that Squall could have lived through something similar, if they weren't so lucky. Her mind stops reeling around the thought of her mother and the night she lost her forever, and starts reeling around the idea of not making it, after all, and the impact this would have on the people who love her - the people she loves: her husband, her friends, her father. What would remain of her?
Her mother left behind a husband, a daughter, an unbearable pain, and the accomplishment of a short lifetime in an unforgettable song still playing after more than twenty years.
What would remain of her, thinks Rinoa? An unbearable pain for the person she loves the most, who's holding her like she's the most precious creature in his entire world. He would be broken, she thinks, and the mere idea of his possible suffering tears a sob from her throat, and he continues to hold her gently tight, aware of how scared she is, and yet oblivious to the path of her thoughts. The shock slowly crashes down on her, as she continues to think about the things that could have been. All her life the could have beens have shaped her thoughts and her decisions, but they never felt as powerful as now, when she is confronted, once again, with her own vulnerability, and this time there isn't the adrenaline of war to keep her on her feet and push her to keep going.
But there is Squall at her back, her rock through every moment of uncertainty, and he holds her as she stands in silence, her physical discomfort mixing with the hurt and guilt, and she feels like crying, more for the five-year-old riding an ambulance while holding a wet stuffed chocobo than for the twenty-five-year-old woman who is scared and shocked. But she doesn't want to, because her husband trying to comfort her must have been as scared as she feels now, and yet he is putting his feelings aside for her sake. This is not what she wants for him.
His hands run down her arms, brushing against her bandage with her chocobo drawn by Selphie. A childish and silly comfort through a trauma repeating itself. His lips still pressed against her temple, Squall whispers, "How about a nice shower, and then we go to bed? You need to rest."
"No," she says, with more force than needed, disentangling herself from his embrace and stepping further into their living room. She feels so stupid, because she shouldn't be feeling like this. She feels so angry, because a drunkard almost ruined her life once again. She feels so guilty, because she knows Squall, now, is even more worried. And she feels so confused, because everything inside of her is a jumbled mess of things she never expected to feel, a few hours ago, when she kissed her husband before joining her friends to celebrate her birthday in town.
"You'll feel stiff tomorrow," he insists. "The warm water will help you relax. You'll feel better after it. Trust me. I just want-"
"I said no, dammit!" she blurts, immediately regretting it, and she hides her face in her hands, bursting into tears. The tension churning inside of her definitely breaks free when Squall hugs her again, a little tighter this time, and gently hushes her towards the bathroom, letting her cry as he continues trying to comfort her while also undressing her. Magic wraps around the cut on her arm and its chocoboed bandage, to protect her injury from water and soap, and she keeps crying as he undresses, too, turning the water on in the shower. And he was right. The warm water hitting the stiff muscles of her neck feels like a healing balm, and she finds herself bawling her eyes out when she feels him press against her, hugging her once again, lathering her skin with such lenity she feels like crying once again only because he is so gentle. The sobs slowly subside, morphing into a silent cry mixing with warm water. She leans against him as he washes her hair, and she manages to crack a smile when she thinks about how much he knows her, how much he takes care of her, how much he loves her. He would have been broken if he lost her tonight, but they were lucky, and she lets her feelings of guilt and fear dissolve into the water running at her feet, enjoying the warm, safe space he created for her.
He was so right.
Without a word, he helps her step out of the shower. She doesn't say anything either, not even when he brushes the knots out of her hair and braids it for the night, not even when he helps her wear her pajamas. When he sits in front of her, searching her face, she gives a timid smile, brushing a stray tear away.
"I'm sorry," she croaks out, and he nods with a gesture of his hand, acknowledging, and at the same time dismissing, an apology that he doesn't need.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
"Yeah," she says, shrugging. Then she laughs, half-bitterly. "Didn't expect to be this sore tonight," she jokes, and he laughs too, crossing his arms, with the kind of smile that always makes her fall in love with him once again.
"Really?" he snorts, and she rolls her eyes in jest. They stay silent, the steam from their shower clouding their images in the mirror. She feels exactly like that: clouded, a little undefined, still on some kind of edge between two places.
She turns serious, and he turns serious too. This is not how the night was supposed to end, she thinks. They were supposed to be together, celebrate her birthday, and spend time in each other's arms. But sometimes life gives you lemons, always says Selphie, and the best you can do is use them to make a lemonade that frickin' rocks.
"Can we talk?" she asks.
"We can do whatever you need," he says, reaching out to undo the magic shield around her arm. He unrolls the bandage, and the silly chocobo Selphie drew breaks down before her eyes, as she watches her husband's fingers gingerly brushing around the ragged edge of her cut. "This will probably leave a scar," he says, and he watches her with another of his instantly-fall-in-love smiles. "You'll still be the best-looking girl here," he jokes, and she laughs, slipping onto his lap, so her can carry her to bed.
As she lies on her uninjured side, watching him, she tells him everything. From that night sitting alone in the ambulance, to the scattered pieces of her life after her mother's death, to the fragments of memories that have been tormenting her since she woke up, a couple hours ago, in a cold and unsettling hospital room, to the jumbled mess of feelings weighing down on her now.
And she tells him how much she loves him and how sorry she is for the worry and fear she put him through tonight. They resonate deeply in the recess of her mind where her Knight resides, and she knows he did everything he could to not let her feel it, and she knows he did it out of love for her and she is so, so grateful, and so, so sorry, and when she starts crying again he just holds her, whispering comforting words of love sounding like a lullaby to her exhausted mind.
She falls asleep with grateful tears still stuck in her eyelashes, and when she wakes up the next morning, still wrapped in love and tenderness and warmth, she feels invigorated.
The first time life gave her lemons, she was too young, scared, and alone, and her Coco was a pure substitute for the love she missed from her mother, and the love her father was too emotionally stunted to give her. She couldn't do anything about that but suffer, and suffer she did.
But this time, she will make some lemonade that frickin' rocks, and Selphie will be so proud of her.
And as her husband sits in front of her for breakfast, with yet another one of his instantly-fall-in-love smiles, she knows she won't be alone.
Author's note: as usual, I checked with Grammarly since English is my second language, so feel free to point out mistakes or anything that sounds weird. Thanks for reading!