#but after laying down for a while i am feeling increasingly bad very flu like 🥲👍

[jakeperalta]

i am feeling Bad

[justcaytlin]

How It's Going

So I figured it would be worthwhile to talk a bit about all the procedures and stuff I've been undergoing. Keep y'all in the loop, as t'were.

Background

To start, the reason I've been in and out of doctors so much lately is that I have fibromyalgia, which means my nervous system thinks every stimulus should be reported with Pain. Are you excited? Pain. Cold? Pain. Tired? Pain. Digesting? Pain! And it's always pain in weird areas. Did you use your wrist too much while you were drawing? Enjoy your left foot hurting, buddy. Or your knee. Or your temple. Quite literally, I did not know that people could be Not In Pain until a conversation with my husband a few years ago.

(Note: Fibromyalgia is not a disease so much as a bucket of symptoms with a variety of causes. One person's fibro may be very different from another's; this is how mine works.)

Generally, after years of hunting down med combos and enforcing lifestyle changes (regular sleep schedule, eating well, maintaining a schedule, etc) I had been sitting at a respectable 4/10 pain scale day-to-day, which is pretty mild all things considered.

Pain is easy to deal with. Unfortunately, fibromyalgia also comes with brainfog, where you can't remember things, and everything slips your mind constantly, and you feel like a sieve and you constantly worry you have early onset dementia. It also comes with chronic fatigue, much like when you have the flu. So you get up to do something and it feels like all of the energy drains out of your muscles and you feel heavy and slow and like you want to lay down just to get enough energy to move again.

As an example, showering has been very hard on me. Usually after a shower -- a quick shower! Or even when using my shower stool! -- I am shaking and weak for up to an hour afterwards.

Reason for Going

In the last six months or so, both the brainfog and the fatigue were getting increasingly bad, so that I could barely do anything at all. I was falling behind on a lot of work-related things, I couldn't help my husband with chores or food prep hardly at all, I couldn't even deal with the energy sap of seeing people very often.

Finally, my friend was going to a research institute nearby for Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy. And I thought, man, I've been wanting to try ketamine treatment for years. I've heard it works wonders on chronic pain. I should try it.

So I did a lot of research, and I dove in.

Phase 1

I contacted the institute about their ketamine infusion therapy, which is geared toward chronic pain relief. Ketamine's underlying functions are still not completely understood, but in layman's terms, it seems to give the nervous system a chance to reset and relax, undoing a lot of that sensitivity that makes fibro so hard. This sounded amazing and like it's exactly what I need.

So I went through several intake and screening appointments. I was approved, but both doctors recommended that I was a perfect candidate for KAP -- Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy. After all, my fibro is almost guaranteed to have come from trauma: when your flight system is active 24/7 for almost a decade, it makes some fundamental changes to the wiring. Plus, I've been diving deep in therapy for the last couple of years, and it's helped a bit on the pain side as well.

But I wasn't certain the ketamine would work on me -- there's never a guarantee -- so I wanted to stick with what I signed up for, for now.

I went in for my appointment, got the IV in, laid down, and was whisked away into a nice little trip for an hour and a half or so. Sounds smeared together. I felt out of my body, yet in it. Time smeared and collapsed in on itself. I felt disrupted, but gently and kindly, taken away into another timeline. I saw lots of shapes and patterns -- subtly, on the back of the eyelids.

I went home after that, and I rested. And the next day, my pain was reduced. It felt like there was a little bit of a cushion between the pain and my senses. My energy was back! I went from "maybe I can stand long enough to cut up a tomato for dinner, I'm not sure" to "okay I've cleaned two rooms, we should be good for guests now." I wasn't 100% by any means. I still fatigue early in tasks, I still felt pain. But it's like the clock turned back months or even years. Holy shit!

Phase 2

I decided that if I was going to do this, I was going to go all in. Therapy had worked wonders before; I was gonna switch to KAP like they suggested. The doctor also suggested I try a Stellate Ganglion Block, wherein they bathe your nerves with anesthetic, which gives your sympathetic nervous system a *direct* vacation. I signed up for that too.

Unfortunately, switching to KAP meant that I needed to undergo more screenings and intakes. And the Ganglion Block also required more screenings and intakes. So my actual healing journey was put on hold for two weeks as I attended more doctor appointments.

Finally, I was able to do my first KAP appointment. You basically go into an office and get set up in a reclining chair full of blankets and pillows. They give you a special eyemask that is raised, so you can keep your eyes open if you want, but it'll be completely blacked out. You wear headphones with music playing. The doctor/therapist stays in the room with you, and if you happen to say anything during your trip, they record it. But otherwise the purpose is just you laying back and letting the medicine do its work. A nurse comes in and administers the ketamine -- for KAP it's intramuscular injection instead of IV. And then in 2-5 minutes, you'll take off. I think for me it was 1-2 minutes.

Ketamine is weird, man. The main *feeling* I take away each time is that I've jumped timelines. The person I was going in is not the same person coming out. It's always a benign feeling (so far?) but it takes you so completely out of your body, your self. Who you are dissolves for a while. It's wild. There's a big chunk of time I don't remember, and then I remember wondering who I was, what I was, what I was doing, where I was. Not fearfully, just, "huh, I should probably know this, huh". Then there was a lot of beautiful imagery of dancing in nature, vibing to the music, twirling in leaves and on lakes. Lots of imagery that is, like, hand-picked to be something I'd paint from scratch. There was some spiritual stuff too, but that's personal.

After a while, I was a tree. I had this feeling that even though part of me had rotted (the good kind of rot, somehow), I was providing lots of ecosystems for others. There was this overwhelming feeling of even though there may not be a reason for something (having fibro), we can still find meaning in it. That was valuable.

The other feeling that's still echoing through me right now is the feeling of being a seed. Like, I'm currently in incubation. There's a transformation coming but right now I'm storing all of my energy and taking in the change.

As I started coming out of it, there were two amusing things.

I could still feel parts of my body as being a tree. I was fully cognizant at this point that I was me, on ketamine, in a doctor's chair, but I was waiting out the rest of my body feeling like My Body again. Like, okay, my body ends at the elbow there, but the rest is branches. Better wait til I feel my fingers again.

I was wondering what I was supposed to do when I came around? We hadn't discussed this. Do I say something? Do I pull off my mask? Do I make a grand announcement? What if I just lay here for hours and avoid this confrontation entirely? What if I was under way longer than anyone else? #social anxiety lol What I ultimately did was I listened to the music and visualized things until it felt like the "soundtrack" was winding down and I could pick out a "credits" song. When the credits song ended, I made myself pull off my mask, and the doctor greeted me.

(One good thing about therapy, medication, and experience with social anxiety is you can feel those thoughts, but also go 'bro it'll be fine lol' and your system largely believes you.)

Anyway, after, the doctor asked me some questions about how I was feeling, what I saw or felt or experienced, etc. She took notes, then let me lay there alone for about twenty minutes to come more fully back to myself. Then she helped me waddle to the bathroom (ketamine messes with your inner ear like crazy) and took me downstairs to meet up with my friend for the ride home.

A week later, I had another appointment with the doctor to integrate everything, talk about everything I experienced or said in the sober light of day.

Phase 3

After that, I got the first Stellate Ganglion Block done. It's done in two phases, your right side and your left side. I wrote about this experience already, but I will say now, a week out from it, that this was a fucking miracle. The KAP and the IV helped a lot with energy and such but the block took my ambient pain from like a 3 to a 1-2. I genuinely wonder if this is what normal people feel like most of the time?

I can tell there's a difference between my right side (that had it done) and the left side (which hasn't been done yet). The left is far more sensitive. But, for example, my sciatic nerves are extremely sensitive to the touch, and generally if I press on them a little bit, I will legit want to cry. (I have very high pain tolerance; i would call pushing on them like an 8.5 on the scale, where 10 is when I was at the hospital for a kidney stone, screaming and crying and thrashing while I was waiting for pain meds :') )

They still hurt, but my right one is more like a 6 instead! That's HUGE. That means I can actually tolerate it long enough to roll out my nerve with the foam roller.

I'm getting my second block done tomorrow. I can't wait to see how it feels after.

Phase 4

After this week, my appointments should slow down a lot. My KAP appointments are two weeks apart, to give ample time to reflect and integrate and let my malleable brain resolidify. The downside is this is slower than I expected -- I thought it would be 1 a week -- and so I'm not positive I'll be back off hiatus on my birthday. It depends on how the next week or so goes.

Right now, I've just been hanging onto the bumper of a car speeding down Appointments Highway and I have barely had time to gather my energy enough to think about much else (besides D&D apparently lmao). By the time I'm done with KAP I will have knocked out some 20 appointments or so in a month and a half. Considering in the past I had to restrict doc appointments to 1/week due to how exhausting and hard they are for me, That Is A Lot.

But they're doing me some good. I'm incubating. I'm percolating. And soon I will sprout.

[merakilyy]

Rinse and Repeat

Pairing: Dimileth and Sylvelix (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)  Tags: Post-game, married fluff, angst with a happy ending, pregnancy, miscarriage, overprotective Dimitri Summary: The first time Byleth conceives a child, she miscarries. Then it happens again. And again. And again. And again. Despite these challenges, Dimitri remains the world’s most supportive husband who only wants the best for his beloved. 

Pregnancy, for Byleth, was unexpectedly difficult and her lack of a child increasingly began to weigh on her.

Byleth and Dimitri were completely blindsided by her first pregnancy, only finding out about the child after Byleth had fainted in the gardens while on a walk with a visiting Flayn. Dimitri had been completely beside himself when he’d heard the news, storming out of a meeting with some of the Dukes from the former Leicester Alliance. (Luckily, Dedue was able to smooth over the remainder of the meeting using the very detailed notes Dimitri had left behind in his haste.) He made a beeline for the infirmary, breaking three doors and a bannister in the process, only to find Byleth awake and well. She was sitting up in bed, laughing at a story Mercedes had been telling her, when Dimitri barged into the room.

“Oh Dimitri! We were wondering when you’d show up!” Mercedes greeted cheerfully.

Dimitri paid Mercedes no mind as he went directly to Byleth’s bed and knelt at her side. His face was lined with deep concern. “My beloved, are you well? I was just informed of your fainting spell in the gardens. Have you eaten today? Did you drink enough water? Was the sun too much for you?”

Byleth beamed, unworried about Dimitri’s numerous concerns. Showing her emotions was still not something that came naturally to her, but it was easy to share her feelings with Dimitri. “No, nothing of the sort, darling. We are fine,” Byleth said, taking Dimitri’s hands into hers. “Just a dizzy spell.”

“We?” Dimitri repeated, confused.

Mercedes clapped her hands together. “Yes! Congratulations on expecting your first child!”

“A child?” Dimitri repeated again, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. “Our child?”

“Yes, darling, I am with child.” Byleth squeezed Dimitri’s hands. 

Dimitri raised Byleth’s hands to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the back of each hand. “You are with our child! Our heir! The product of our love! How far along are you?”

“Three moons. It would seem that the stomach flu I had last moon was not a stomach flu after all.” Byleth released one of Dimitri’s hands so that she could bury her fingers in his hair and pull him in closer.

Mercedes quietly stepped out of the room then, knowing Byleth and Dimitri needed some time to relish in their joy. Mercedes would just return later to give them instructions on how to proceed and with more information of what to expect from pregnancy. In the meantime, she closed the broken door as best she could to give Byleth and Dimitri their privacy.

~~~

A moon later, Byleth was back in the infirmary. 

Instead of tears of joy, Dimitri cried tears of sorrow as he watched Byleth curl up on the infirmary bed. Her arms wrapped around her midsection where her dead child was slowly and painfully expelling itself from her body. He could do nothing but watch and hold Byleth as she endured painful cramp after cramp for two days. He could do nothing but watch as Mercedes periodically removed cloth stained with blood clots and fetal tissue from Byleth, grimacing as he was watching Mercedes literally taking away the remnants of their baby.

Throughout her miscarriage, Byleth shed nearly no tears until the very end as a particularly painful cramp caused her to cry out and she only openly grieved her lost child for a day. 

That day, Dimitri would bury the bloody remains of their child in the garden as Byleth watched from her chair. She had lost too much blood during the miscarriage and wasn’t quite strong enough to help Dimitri yet. Later, she and Dedue did plant new flowers around the little stone that read “Baby Blaiddyd”.

~~~

As they soon discovered, becoming pregnant was not an issue. Within the next year, Byleth had conceived four more times. With each subsequent pregnancy, she had grown increasingly desperate and increasingly cautious about her actions so as to avoid the pain of her first pregnancy. But at the end of the year, after her meticulous planning and careful contemplation over her each and every action, she still had no child to show for it.

The second miscarriage had happened very early on, just three weeks into her pregnancy. Neither Byleth nor Dimitri cried over this child as they hadn’t known about this child’s presence until it was gone. Yet, Dimitri could see how the loss of another child weighed on Byleth as she spoke, ate, and trained less afterwards. But again, he could do little but hold her and love her as he promised they would try again.

The second child had no remains, but Dimitri still placed another small stone in their garden a short distance from the first. This stone read “Baby Blaiddyd #2”. Dedue and Byleth planted yet more flowers.

~~~

The third pregnancy wasn’t a miscarriage, exactly, but Mercedes was forced to remove the child to preserve Byleth’s life as it was an ectopic pregnancy. At first, Byleth and Dimitri were cautiously optimistic and saw Byleth’s lack of morning sickness as a good omen. But, in the third moon of the pregnancy, Mercedes called for both Byleth and Dimitri. Byleth didn’t shed any tears as Mercedes explained how there was no choice but to terminate the pregnancy, but there was no hiding the wateriness of Byleth’s gaze as she stared blankly at the wall behind Mercedes. Dimitri had insisted on staying in the room for the entire procedure so that Byleth would not be alone. Byleth said nothing, but her numbing grip on Dimitri’s hands told him how grateful she was for his presence.

Once again, there were no remains so Dimitri set up another small stone for “Baby Blaiddyd #3”.

Byleth didn’t help Dedue plant the flowers for this child, but she did select the seeds for Dedue to use.

~~~

The fourth pregnancy was the worst. It began with extreme morning sickness. In the early moons, Byleth lost so much weight that her already lean physique was beginning to appear emaciated. Even as her child expanded her abdomen, Byleth was losing weight alarmingly quickly. Without knowing otherwise, it would not appear as if Byleth was with child at all and this persisted well into the fifth moon. Byleth was unable to leave her room much, lacking both the energy and willpower to do so, nevermind attend to her duties as Archbishop or Queen. Fortunately, having already heard of her earlier pregnancy struggles, Seteth took on most of the Archbishop’s duties from Garreg Mach so as to lessen the burden on Byleth.

Dimitri took on as many of Byleth’s queenly duties as he could, and Ingrid filled in as a proxy for Byleth wherever and whenever her presence was required. Meanwhile, Byleth spent the majority of her fourth pregnancy on bed rest. 

The timing of the fourth pregnancy coincided with Sylvain and Felix’s visit to Fhirdiad. Officially, they were in Fhirdiad to discuss more advanced education for commoner children but Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri all knew they were really just here to see Byleth. 

“How many rules do you think we’re breaking, entering the private bedchamber of the Holy Queen of Faerghus and the Archbishop of Seiros?” Sylvain joked, though a tightness in his eyes gave away his true concern for Byleth. 

“Well the Boar King has already broken tradition by technically marrying a commoner and keeping a shared bedchamber with his queen,” Felix smirked at Dimitri. Like Sylvain, Felix’s quips were only a cover for his genuine concern.

“I wish I could share my bedchamber,” Sylvain mused. “I didn’t think Dimitri had it in him! Too bad my lover lives all the way in Fraldarius, though. Must be great to wake up to your lover every morning.” Sylvain wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at Felix. 

“Ugh. You crass beast,” Felix responded by smacking the back of Sylvain’s head just hard enough to make his point. “If you thought with your big head instead of your little head for once you would know exactly why I can’t just move to Gautier.”

“Hey! You didn’t think it was that little last night!”

Albeit strained, Dimitri still smiled as he watched his childhood friends, former classmates, and invaluable wartime allies squabble beside him. “I see your relationship is as strong as ever,” Dimitri quipped dryly.

“Shut up,” Felix muttered, though his words were muffled by Sylvain’s shoulder. 

Sylvain had pulled Felix into a tight embrace, further mussing up his hair. “Don’t mind Feli-Feli,” Sylvain cooed as he half dragged Felix down the hall, “He just missed his morning sugar. You know, me,” Sylvain clarified, as though he had not been obvious enough. Dimitri laughed as Sylvain emphasized his point with a wink.

Felix swore as Sylvain placed a very loud and very wet kiss on his forehead, though Felix made no move to wipe his face afterwards.

For Dimitri, Sylvain and Felix’s banter was a welcome distraction from the seriousness of Byleth’s predicament. As soon as Dimitri opened the door to his bedchamber, Sylvain and Felix both froze at how weak Byleth appeared. Her skin was pallid and, other than her protruding midsection, she was little more than skin and bones. 

“Hello, Beloved,” Dimitri said with a gentle smile, having gone immediately to sit at the foot of their shared bed. He gathered Byleth’s feet in his lap and began to massage them. “Sylvain and Felix are here.”

“How lovely,” Byleth smiled weakly. She pushed herself up from the bed as best she could so she could greet Sylvain and Felix. Dimitri reached over to support her back as she sat up. “Hello Sylvain, Felix, “Byleth greet softly. “It is good to see you both. I apologize for the circumstances. This really isn’t a very proper setting for a Queen of Faerghus to be entertaining guests now, is it?” She chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

“No,” Felix recovered first and spoke quickly before Sylvain could stuff his foot in his mouth. “But anything that would drive those old nobles who refuse to accept common sense is usually the right thing to do.”

Byleth laughed in response and Dimitri brightened up at finally seeing his wife so happy.

Upon reaching the sixth moon of her fourth pregnancy, Dimitri and Byleth finally began discussing names.

“If we have a boy, I think it would be nice to name him after Rodrigue,” Dimitri said pensively. He was reclined in bed, back against the headboard, while Byleth rested between his legs. Her back pressed up against Dimitri’s chest and he gently massaged her shoulders, loosening her muscles to help her relax. “I did not ever truly thank him for all he did for me,” Dimitri continued, “For acting as a surrogate father, for his loyalty, and I took advantage of his dedication until he died for me. There is much I am indebted to him for, and it is a debt I will never be able to repay. He helped pull me away from the ghosts of my past and I wish to honour him.”

Byleth agreed, “That is a lovely thing to do. But I would like to honour Dedue as well. Is Rodrigue Molinaro an agreeable name to you, Dimitri?”

“Rodrigue Molinaro Blaiddyd,” Dimitri murmured appreciatively. His hands stopped massaging Byleth’s shoulders, instead running down her arms until they intertwined with her hands. He reached around, resting both his and Byleth’s hands on her bump. “Rodrigue Molinaro Blaiddyd,” Dimitri said again, “I love it. It will be an excellent name for a son. But what of a daughter?”

“Hmm,” Byleth hummed. She tilted her head back so that it was resting against Dimitri’s shoulder. “I have no preferences. Though I would like to honour Mercedes for all she’s done for us, especially in recent moons.”

“I quite like the name Leanna. My father once told me old fairy tales of Faerghus when I was young and I quite liked the character Leanna. She was the sneaky counterpart in the adventures of Loog. Would Leanna Mercedes Blaiddyd be agreeable to you, my beloved?” With their hands still connected, Dimitri gently stroked Byleth’s belly. He grinned when he felt the baby kick in response to his ministrations.

Byleth shifted her body and turned slightly so that Dimitri could see the smile on her face. “Very much so, my King.” She tilted her head up and laid a kiss against Dimitri’s jawline. “Very much so.”

But, just mere days after Felix and Sylvain’s visit, mere days after they had chosen a name for their child, Byleth went into premature labour. 

Having wanted to account for any possible event, Mercedes had sent for Manuela and even Rhea herself as soon as Byleth’s pregnancy had been confirmed. Yet, even with all their preparation and Byleth’s care, there was nothing to be done for the child.

Once again, Dimitri was adamant that he remain at Byleth’s side. He held her hand all throughout the thirteen hours of labour. He raised a glass of water to her lips periodically, wiped her face and her tears with a damp cloth, held Byleth’s nightgown out of the way when Mercedes or Manuela or Rhea so requested, and he murmured reassuring words but there was nothing he could do as he watched his wife give birth to a dead daughter after thirteen hours of pain and suffering.

Byleth was bedridden for another two weeks after the delivery as she had hemorrhaged during labour and Mercedes wanted to be overly cautious. As such, she wasn’t able to join Dimitri when he buried their stillborn daughter and set up the little stone engraved with “Leanna Mercedes Blaiddyd”. 

Nor did she accompany Dedue in planting flowers for her dead daughter. This time, too deep in her own grief, Byleth did not even select the flowers and she could not bring herself to visit her dead daughter’s grave.

She remained in bed, trapped in the very room where she had lost her daughter. Leanna Mercedes Blaiddyd was not Byleth’s first failed pregnancy, but Leanna Mercedes Blaiddyd was the first of her dead children whom Byleth shed tears for. Dimitri shared Byleth’s grief but there was nothing he could do.

(And Byleth knew better than to use the divine pulse when it wouldn’t erase the hurt she was feeling from losing her daughter, and when she knew that her daughter could just die again and she did not have the strength to feel her child die inside her a second time.)

~~~

The fifth pregnancy was comparatively uneventful. Byleth conceived her fifth child out of a growing desperation to carry a child to term despite Mercedes’ and Dimitri’s concerns over Byleth’s declining health. Yet, Byleth still conceived. Not entirely unsurprisingly, Byleth then miscarried the baby two moons later. 

Still melancholic from the stillborn Leanna several moons earlier, Byleth was fairly numb to her most recent miscarriage. However, her succession of failed pregnancies was beginning to give rise to malicious rumours.

Byleth first learned of such rumours when she overheard the conversation between a maid and a serving boy around the corner.

“Really,” the serving boy said snottily, “his majesty should get himself a new wife by now. It’s not like he’d be throwing the Queen to the wolves. She’s the Archbishop of Seiros, for the Goddess’ sake. She doesn’t need to also be the queen. Shouldn’t she be at Garreg Mach anyway? Especially since she’s useless at providing heirs.”

“I hate that his majesty needs to suffer with such a useless wife. What good at noblewomen other than having children? It’s not like they know how to work,” the maid said.

A second maid piped up then. “But Her Grace isn’t a noble. She was a mercenary. I don’t think she should get to be the Queen and Archbishop. The Goddess deserves an Archbishop who is truly devoted to her.”

“At the very least,” the first servant boy spoke again, “his majesty should take a mistress who can actually provide an heir.”

Stung, Byleth didn’t hear what was said afterwards. She headed straight for Dimitri’s office, accidentally alerting the maids and servant boy to her presence. Though the look on their faces at having been caught gossiping by the Queen of Faerghus and Archbishop of Seiros herself was priceless, Byleth did not get the opportunity to enjoy it. 

Before Dimitri’s office door, Byleth took a deep breath. Steadying her nerves, she knocked.

“Come in!” called Dimitri’s voice through the heavy oak door. 

Seeing Byleth enter the room, Dimitri immediately brightened. He stood from his desk, abandoning his mining reports, to greet Byleth. 

His face fell immediately after seeing Byleth’s expression, his joy replaced by concern. “My beloved, what is wrong? Are you unwell?”

“Dimitri,” Byleth’s voice broke as she stumbled in Dimitri’s arms. Despite her emotional turmoil, the weight of Dimitri’s thick fur cloak wrapping around her was as calming as ever. 

With her face buried in Dimitri’s cloak, Byleth couldn’t see Dedue. But, she heard Dedue say “I will take my leave, your majesty. I shall be in the garden.”

Although she didn’t hear Dimitri’s response, Byleth let out a sob at the mention of the garden. She had yet to visit her last two children and couldn’t bring herself to face her failure. 

Once the door had closed behind Dedue, Dimitri gently guided Byleth towards the couch. The fire had been lit by Dedue earlier so the sparks crackled in the background as Byleth fought to regain control over herself. Dimitri said nothing. He simply held her in his arms and gave her a reassuring smile as he waited for Byleth to speak first.

“I…” Byleth spoke so softly that it was almost a whisper. “I love you, Dimitri.”

“And I love you too, Byleth,” Dimitri responded without hesitation. Byleth didn’t immediately continue, but Dimitri patiently waited for her to continue.

“I love you,” Byleth said again, voice stronger now, “but I know I am not the best queen for you.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Why would you say that, my love?”

“I…” Byleth dropped her gaze as her eyes began to fill with tears. “I failed to give you an heir. But you need an heir. And I would understand if you wanted an annulment or if you wished to take a mistress so you could have an heir.”

“Byleth, what brought this on?” Dimitri knew Byleth’s question and current vulnerability was not due to a lack of love on her part, but was a consequence of her string of consecutive miscarriages in such close succession. Despite her best attempts to appear otherwise, Dimitri knew that the loss of each subsequent child was taking its toll on Byleth both physically and emotionally. But, Dimitri also knew that Byleth would not consider such extreme measures, even in such a vulnerable state, without someone else having said something. 

Byleth sniffed, burrowing herself even deeper in Dimitri’s cloak. “I overheard some of the servants and maids speaking. They think I am a failure as a queen. Nearly three years of marriage but still no heir.”

“Byleth…” Dimitri reached over to tilt Byleth’s face so she was looking at him. “I don’t care about an heir.” He could see the mixture of uncertainty and disbelief spelled out on Byleth’s face so he continued, “Byleth, you are my love, my beloved queen, and I need you to listen carefully, alright? For you, I speak nothing but my honest truth. Will you listen to me? Believe me?”

“But…” Byleth’s protest drifted off when she saw the look Dimitri was giving her. Instead, she nodded. 

“My love, you know that I would do almost anything for Faerghus -- for my people.” Dimitri paused to gently cup Byleth’s face in both his bare hands. “But there is no question that you will always come first. Byleth, there would be no Kingdom of Faerghus without you by my side. My Queen, I have lost so much already. My father, stepmother, Glenn, Rodrigue, and even Dedue for those few long years. You saved me from myself then, saved me from my ghosts, and I am forever in your debt for that. But Byleth, “Dimitri’s eyes began to water, “I do not believe I would be able to ever recover from losing you. Without you, I fear I would lose myself to my ghosts permanently. I would lose myself to someplace so far that I would truly be beyond saving.

“I would love to have a house full of children. Children with my hair and your eyes, children with my nose and your strength, all running around the palace causing trouble for their tutors and maids and wreaking havoc upon the training grounds. But I would never, could never, choose them over you. I want no child, unless it is yours, and I would not protest if you wanted to give up on having children. My beloved, it is hard enough for me to watch you suffer with each child and I cannot imagine how much more difficult it must be for you to feel each child dying inside you.

“In the end, no matter how much I wish for children of my own, I wish to have you by my side for as long as I can. It is selfish of me, but I will choose you first. Byleth, I do not know what I would do if you were to pass while giving birth to my child but I know that I will never stop blaming myself for causing your death. Watching you destroy your health for me, for the hope of a child, I cannot bear to watch it for much longer.” Dimitri paused, tears leaking from his eyes. With her own tear tracks mirrored on her face, Byleth reached out and wiped Dimitri’s tears from his cheeks. 

Dimitri took a deep breath before continuing. “I want a child but I need you, Byleth. Please, I will give you all the children I possibly can if that is what you so desire. But please stop pushing yourself for me. We are young and healthy, and this is peacetime. Please, my love, I will beg of you to recover your health fully first. Please, do not join the ranks of the ghosts of those whom I failed. I love you, with or without a child, and I want nothing more than to see you happy and healthy once more.

“You are not a failure as queen.” Dimitri said, wiping Byleth’s tears from her cheeks. “You are a wonderful queen and your job is not solely to provide an heir. You have done much in rebuilding Fodlan and renegotiating treaties. None of the peace and wealth Fodlan enjoys today would be here without you. You have reinspired faith in the Church, you are a wonderful teacher and exemplary leader, and the best wife and life partner I could have asked for. You are a wonderful Queen and Archbishop for the people of Fodlan and those who cannot recognize that are fools.��

~~~

Byleth didn’t conceive again for another year. By no means was her sixth pregnancy easy, but it was nothing compared to the nightmare that was her fourth. She suffering morning sickness and fainting spells her first trimester which gave way to odd food cravings in her second trimester, all of which finally gave way to swollen feet and a chronic ache in her neck and back for the last months of her pregnancy. 

But, Byleth carried this child to term and all of Fodlan was shivering with anticipation for the latest news from the Royal Palace.

~~~

“To the good people of Faerghus and of all Fodlan,” Dedue and Ingrid stood on the palace balcony that was used for important announcements. “On behalf of his majesty, King Dimitri, and her grace, Queen and Archbishop Byleth, I would like to announce this joyous occasion of the birth of the Crown Prince, his highness Prince Rodrigue Molinaro Blaiddyd, first in line to the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.” 

Ingrid continued, “The Goddess has blessed us for both mother and son are alive and in good health. We welcome all to join the Lady Mercedes von Martritz in the Royal Garden this evening in prayer for the continued good health of mother and son, as well as his majesty King Dimitri.”

~~~

Later, when baby Rodrigue finally settled for a nap, Byleth looked at Dimitri who was sprawled out next to her. Despite her clear exhaustion, Byleth was still relishing in the glow that only a new mother has. Dried tear tracks still stained her cheeks. They were remnants of tears of both pain and joy.

“Hey,” Byleth said softly so as to catch the attention of Dimitri without waking her newborn son, “we did pretty good, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Dimitri smiled, cradling baby Rodrigue’s tiny foot between his fingers. He pushed himself up to support his weight on his elbows and kissed baby Rodrigue’s nose before leaning up to place a chaste kiss on Byleth’s lips. 

“You did perfect.”

[randomfandomfamily]

How about a one-shot of Gary looking after Little Cato when he gets seriously ill and ends up in a coma for a couple of days? Also your one-shots are sweet ^^

--

AGH this took me so much longer than it should have, I’m so sorry.

(ps: thank you for saying my one-shots are sweet, that made my whole day!)

Little Cato felt how the Lord Commander looked, which basically meant he felt like crap, but also like he was dying. And, you know, maybe he was dying, but he wasn’t going to let a little death stop him.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He had a runny nose for a couple of days? That was nothing! He could definitely handle a little sickness.

But a couple of days turned into a week, and he felt worse and worse every time he forced himself out of bed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been sick before, because he definitely had. He just hadn’t had a reason to hide it before because no one had really cared.

The soldiers hadn’t cared if he was sick, the Lord Commander hadn’t cared if he was sick, but Gary would probably care a whole lot if he was sick. He couldn’t afford to let Gary get distracted just because he was sick. The poor guy had enough to deal with.

“You sure you’re good to pilot?” Gary asked. “You’re looking a little under the weather.”

Little Cato mustered his best smile and gave Gary a thumbs up. “I’m all good Thunder Bandit! If anything goes wrong, I’ll have AVA on it asap.”

Gary smiled reluctantly. “Well, alright. If you’re sure.” He left Little Cato alone with the controls. Little Cato sighed in relief, tricking Gary into thinking he wasn’t sick was getting harder and harder.

But he would get better. Eventually.

"Little Cato!” He jumped at the sound of his name being shouted. Fox was frowning down at him. “Did you zone out or something, Ventrexian?”

Blinking rapidly to regain his focus, Little Cato realized that he didn’t recognize any of the planets they were flying past. How long had he blanked out for? Everything was so blurry, it was hard to distinguish anything.

Rest. That was probably all he needed. Just a little rest, though. “Ah, sorry. That’s my bad.” He got up from his seat and immediately stumbled into the controls. “Whoa...”

Fox suddenly looked more concerned than annoyed. “Uh... you doin’ okay?”

Little Cato gave him a thumbs up. “Absolutely!” He pushed himself back up and made his way towards the door. “Maybe just put AVA on autopilot for a while, huh? I’m gonna...”

He trailed off, unable to force the words out of his throat. The ship was spinning, was it supposed to be spinning? His vision was going gray around the edges, and he knew it wasn’t supposed to do that. There was a ringing sound somewhere that he couldn’t identify.

“You’re not lookin’ so hot,” Fox said, though Little Cato could hardly make out his voice over the ringing in his ears. “Maybe you should go lay down.”

Little Cato nodded. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He flashed what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I’ll be back after a quick nap. Don’t do anything stupid without me.”

Fox opened his mouth to say something, but Little Cato closed the door before he could. As much as he liked Fox, he couldn’t deal with their usual bickering right now.

The walk back to his room was slow, and he had to keep leaning against the wall for support. It was frustrating. What if someone saw him like this? They’d know something was wrong.

So he pushed himself off the wall and forced himself to walk in a (probably) straight line. Why was he shaking so much? Had it always been this cold on the Crimson Light?

He opened the door to his room and quickly closed it behind him. Letting himself slide to the floor, he wondered how the crap he was going to climb that stupid ladder. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he could always just go get Gary, but he shut that down hard, standing back up just to spite the idea.

“I don’t need to go get Gary.” He grabbed the rungs of the ladder and hauled himself up. “It’s not that bad, I’m not even that sick.” His body felt like it might give out at any given moment, but he managed to get to the top of the ladder.

Little Cato collapsed his bed and laughed weakly. “See? Not that bad.” His vision started to black out. “It’s not… it’s not that bad…”

Afternoon came and passed, and Little Cato slept all through the night and into the next day. Fox and made an attempt to wake him, but gave up after a few minutes. If Little Cato was that tired, maybe he should just keep sleeping.

Nobody really thought much of Little Cato’s absence until Gary looked around and asked, “Where’s Little Cato?”

“He’s asleep,” Fox answered.

Gary frowned. “Still? But it’s been almost a whole day.”

KVN hummed as he floated around Gary’s head. “Maybe he died.”

If you could stop a heart with three words, those would be it. Gary glared at KVN with barely concealed rage. “I will kill you for that later, but for now I’m just- I’m gonna go check on him.” 

KVN’s words kept echoing around in his head as he made his way to Little Cato’s room. Little Cato wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. The kid was just fine the day before, there’s no way he’d just suddenly up and die.

Although… had Little Cato really been okay when Gary asked him? He did seem off. But if Little Cato was feeling out of sorts, he would definitely come tell Gary about it, right? He wouldn’t keep something like that a secret… would he?

He opened the door to Little Cato’s room. “Hey! Time to get up sleepyhead.” When he didn’t get an immediate response, he moved to stand beside the bunk beds and knocked on the metal frame. “Come on, kid, you’ve been asleep long enough.”

Still no answer.

“Spider-Cat?” He grabbed Little Cato’s shoulder. “Kid, wake up.” He shook Little Cato but there was still no reaction. “Little Cato!” The kid was trembling under his hand. Gary moved to check his forehead and recoiled immediately. “What the hell…” Little Cato was burning up, his fur matted with feverish perspiration.

And he wasn’t waking up.

Gary scooped Little Cato out of the top bunk and carried him out of the room. He wanted to run to the medbay as fast as he possibly could, but he forced himself to hold the kid steady.

How did this happen? How could he have let this happen? He knew something was off. He should have said something. He should have made Little Cato tell him what was wrong.

“AVA!” Gary was thankful the doors on the Crimson Light could open themselves. He didn’t have time for inconveniences like doorknobs right now. “I need you to fix Little Cato!”

“I can’t just ‘fix him’,” AVA replied, “I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

Gary set Little Cato down gave the ceiling a scathing look. “Then figure out what’s wrong with him! Then fix it!”

“Gary?” Nightfall’s voice made him turn. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

“No,” Gary said. “I mean, I-I don’t know. I…” He struggled to keep a level head. “He won’t wake up.”

“What do you mean-”

“I mean he won’t wake up.” Gary felt bad for snapping, but he was so on edge he could barely think. “He’s sick, Nightfall. Really sick, and I should have noticed! But I didn’t notice, and he didn’t tell me, and now he’s…” He sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed he had laid Little Cato down on.

AVA’s voice made him look up. “Little Cato appears to be suffering from a virus, something akin to the Earthen flu. His symptoms include fever, nausea, sinus issues-”

Gary shook his head. “That can’t be right. The flu doesn’t knock people like this.” He stood up and pointed at his kid. “The flu doesn’t put people in friggin’ comas!”

“If you would let me finish,” AVA said with robotic annoyance, “I could have told you that his condition has been significantly worsened due to stress.”

Nightfall tipped her head. “Stress?”

“How does stress cause this?” Gary gestured wildly at his comatose son. “Stress doesn’t do this!”

“It would take a very extensive amount of stress to do this much damage,” AVA agreed, “Though I am hazy on what could be its source. Therefore, I am entrusting someone else to explain it to you.”

The door opened, and HUE waddled in. “Thank you, AVA.” HUE imitated a throat being cleared. “Little Cato’s list of potential sources of stress, as far as my records show: almost being killed Avocato, imprisoned by the Lord Commander, being rescued by Avocato father only to watch him die moments later, immediately thrown into a war he knew little to nothing about other than he wanted to fight the Lord Commander, he was lost in space with no knowledge of his friends’ well-being, trapped in a time shard for 60 insanity-inducing years, saved the father who didn’t remember him, watched Gary get possessed and try to kill him, watched Avocato get possessed and try to kill Gary, had to experience Avocato approaching him with a gun for a second time, was forced to shoot Avocato to save Gary, and most recently, he believed himself unworthy to be part of this group and, believing he was a potential danger to us, fled to a group of bandits because he didn’t think he deserved the company of good people.”

Gary knew this. He knew all of this. But hearing it all out loud, all at once, made it seem almost impossible. Just hearing it made Gary’s head spin, he couldn’t imagine having to live it.

“This,” AVA continued, “Combined with his increasingly severe illness, has caused his body to completely shut down. My guess is he’s been sick for about a week now.”

“A week?!” Gary exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, of course you’re not kidding. Little Cato probably thought he could just tough it out.”

Nightfall put a hand on his shoulder. “Little Cato’s a tough guy, Gary. He’ll be okay.”

Gary shrugged her off. “He shouldn’t have to be a ‘tough guy’, he’s fourteen.” He felt a fresh wave of tears well up in his eyes as he gazed at his sick child. “And I’m supposed to take care of him.”

“And you are,” Nightfall insisted, “You can’t control what Little Cato does and doesn’t tell you. The most you can do is let him know that you’re there for him when he does want to tell you something.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Gary said bitterly, “Just as soon as he wakes up.”

Gary knew the best case scenario was that Little Cato’s fever broke and he was awake by the end of the day. Of course, when it came to Little Cato, there was rarely a best case scenario that came to pass. He dragged a chair into the room and sat down next to the bed and waited, but there was still no indication that Little Cato would wake up, at least not today.

Since there was no way he was leaving Little Cato’s side, Gary opted to spend the night in the medbay. It was a pretty sleepless night; thanks to KVN’s comment from earlier, Gary was absolutely terrified to take his eyes off Little Cato for even a second.

The rest of the crew popped in from time to time. Fox and Ash reassured him that Little Cato would get better. He ignored HUE’s suggestion of sleep. Nightfall tried to tell him that AVA would let him know if anything happened, but Gary still refused to leave.

And he didn’t leave the day after that either. Or the day after that, but he did finally manage to get some sleep. Resting his arms on the bed and laying his head down, he drifted off, telling himself that he’d only sleep for a few minutes, then he’d go back to looking after Little Cato. Just a few minutes…

He couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what Little Cato had thought too.

Gary slept for much longer than he had anticipated. After staying up for about three days straight, he really shouldn’t have expected to just take a twenty minute nap. He didn’t want to miss the second Little Cato woke up but, unfortunately, he did.

Little Cato’s eyes opened slowly as he tried to get his bearings. “Aw crap, how long have I been out?” He sat up groggily and blinked against the bright lights. His throat felt like it was on fire. “I better get back to the controls before- this is not my room.”

The only thing more surprising than waking up in the medbay was seeing Gary sitting in a chair next to the bed, passed out with his head on his arms. It dawned on Little Cato that his hand was being held, his adopted father looking absolutely exhausted.

What the crap happened?

Reluctantly, Little Cato reached over and tapped Gary’s shoulder. “Thunder Bandit?”

The mess of blond stirred, lifting his head and squinting at Little Cato. “Spider-Cat?”

“Hey,” Little Cato croaked, his throat still sore. “What are-”

Gary stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. “YOU ARE SO GROUNDED!!”

Little Cato blanched. “Wha- huh?”

“You heard me: grounded.” Gary looked… not angry, but Little Cato couldn’t place the expression. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Little Cato said flippantly, “I’m not even that sick.” Gary didn’t say anything for a while, he stared at Little Cato with that same ‘almost angry but not quite’ expression on his face. “What?”

“You’ve been asleep,” Gary said slowly, “For almost four days.”

Little Cato felt his stomach drop. How? When? That couldn’t be right. He hadn’t been that sick, had he? “But… that can’t be… I…” A realization struck Little Cato has he took in Gary’s tired anger and slumped posture. “Have you been sitting in here this whole time?”

Who was he kidding? Of course Gary had just sat in here with him. He knew Gary wouldn’t just be able to brush of him being sick, it was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell Gary in the first place!

“Crap, this isn’t what was supposed to happen.” Little Cato closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I supposed to get better and you weren’t supposed to know. Now I’ve been stuck in here for four days and you’ve probably lost so much time.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Little Cato.” He looked up to see Gary righting his chair and sitting down. “You listen to me, and listen good because I am dead friggin’ serious right now.” He squeezed Little Cato’s hand. “Never hesitate to tell me anything. I don’t care if you’re sick, tired, or just having a bad day, you tell me.”

“But-”

“No,” Gary interrupted. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

That made Little Cato hesitate. “Worried? About me?” He attempted a smile. “Gary, you know you don’t have to-”

Gary held up a hand. “I’m your dad now. It’s my job to worry about you. But even if I wasn’t your dad, I’d still be worried, because you’re a sick kid.” His voice softened. “AVA said your condition shouldn’t have even been as bad as it was. A lot of it had to do with stress.”

Little Cato tried to blow that particular statement off. “Pfft, what? Stress? Come on, Gary, you know I don’t stress about anything.”

“Tell that to your four day coma, buddy.” Gary rubbed his eyes. “I’m beyond relieved that you’re okay, Little Cato. But I’m serious about what I said earlier. You can tell me anything, at anytime.” When Gary’s hand fell away from his face, Little Cato could see how red his eyes were. “I was scared, kid.”

That’s not what Little Cato had wanted to happen. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought I… I thought I could handle being sick.”

Gary sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to. Just… stop trying to tough things out on your own, okay? Promise?”

Little Cato nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.” Gary smiled. “Now give me a hug before we both start crying.”

[darciacus]

Day to Day

Chapter 8: A Little Bit Sick

Edwin

Romance/Humor

1,242 words

Summary: Winry is a little bit sick and Edward is overreacting.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051460/chapters/43674710#workskin

Winry hated being sick.

She wasn’t sick often only about once or twice a year. But when it happened it hit her hard. She’d get dizzy and feverish while dealing with a stomach flu. Or it would be  an ear infection which would turn into a sore throat and then into a severe cold. It always happened after an intense week of work when she had been pushing herself too hard. She would have to push forward orders for a couple of weeks and lay in bed trying not to think about her stomach or her empty workshop. At first she had tried to sneak down to the basement to work but Granny would always notice and stop her. So Winry had resigned herself to being sick and bored for a few days before throwing herself back into her work.

But now the Elric Brothers were home. And Edward was being So. Very. Annoying.

She understood where he was coming from, she really did. His history with his mother and her sickness left him feeling incredibly concerned whenever anyone he cared for became ill. And he hadn’t been around to see her be sick when he was traveling around Amestris with Al so he had no idea how to help her. Or anyone really. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Winry that Edward knew very little about illness and treatment or even basic bedside manner.

“I don’t need another pillow, Ed. I’m fine!” Winry shouted for the third time that morning. Edward was currently offering her his own pillow from his room. She was surrounded by things he had brought her: a blanket, 3 books, 2 cups of water, her slippers, an apple (to keep the doctor away), her toothbrush, and even her wrench. He thought it would make her feel better which was sweet. Until he wouldn’t leave.

“I just want you to be comfy. Are you sure you don’t need more medicine?” Ed asked.

“I already took some medicine earlier today. I can’t just eat a bunch of pills and get better. You should know that, you’re the scientist!”

“Winry, you shouldn’t be yelling in your state.”

“My state? I have a fever. That’s it. This isn’t even as bad as it usual is.” Winry trailed off as she saw Ed’s eyes widen. Oh no , she thought.

“It’s usually worse? What do you mean, usually? Does this happen often? Why didn’t you call me?” Edward was combing his fingers through his hair and pacing. He doesn’t have it in a ponytail today, Winry mused as he panicked.

“I don’t think you, of all people, can criticize me for not calling. Now if you don’t get out of my room I will use this wrench you brought for me to throw you out!”

“Edward! Stop agitating the patient. You’re only going to make it worse if she keeps yelling at you.” Granny had appeared at Winry’s door holding a bowl of soup on a tray. She brought it over to Winry and set it on her lap gently.

“Fine! Sorry for trying to help!” Ed stomped out of the room and down the stairs.

Winry sighed and rubbed her temple. “Thanks Granny. He was getting on my last nerve.”

“That’s alright. But you should let him fuss over you sometimes. It’s a rare sight,” Granny replied.

“He’s just so… worried.”

“I know, dear. He’s an Elric. Full force in everything he does. But it comes from a place of caring and a place of fear.”

The two women paused as both of their thoughts went to Trisha. Winry knew she overreacted but she had had her reasons.

“I know all that, I do. But…”

Granny adjusted the pillows behind her head and waited. When Winry didn’t respond she raised an eyebrow. “Come on, child, I don’t have all day.”

Winry looked down at her soup, twirling the spoon through it. In a very small voice she said, “I don’t want him to see me sick. I haven’t showered and my hair’s a mess.”

Granny shook her head. Lovestruck fools. “Winry, you could be covered in grease and not have showered in a week and that idiot would still look at you like you were all the answers to every alchemic question he’s ever had.”

Winry started but before she could reply Granny waved her off. “Hurry and eat your soup. I need you getting better. You’re not the only one that bean sprout is bugging. He’s been asking me way too many questions. I have work to do, I don’t have time for that!” Granny squeezed her hand and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Winry thought as she ate her soup. I suppose it is nice to be worried about even if he’s going overboard. And I can imagine how scary it might be. She thought about Edward as a child and frowned. I don’t ever want him to go through that kind of pain again. But I really am fine! She finished up her soup and set the tray on the floor. After reaching over and turning the lamp off, she settled down into her bed and squeezed the pillow Edward had left. Huh, it kinda smells like his hair, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Outside her door, Al and Ed were whispering. “Brother, you know you should leave her alone. Granny said so.”

“I’m just gonna check on her, Al. It’s fine.” Ed slowly opened the door and peeked his head in. “You can’t tell me you’re not worried.”

Al shrugged. “I am worried. But I also trust Granny when she says Winry will be okay.” He leaned in to look as Ed walked slowly over to Winry’s bedside.

“See? She’s sleeping. That means she’s feeling better,” Al said.

“That’s good. Last night she was tossing and turning a lot,” Ed whispered back.

“You came into her room last night? That’s kind of creepy, brother.”

“Not like that, it was to check on her!” Ed said this a little louder and both brothers froze as Winry adjusted in her sleep. After a few seconds, they let out a breath.

“She’s fine. Let’s go before she wakes up and hits us with her wrench.”

“You can go, I’m gonna stay a bit.” Edward crouched next to Winry’s bed and rested his head on his arms next to her pillow.

“Suit yourself.” Alphonse rolled his eyes as he walked away. Lovestruck doofus.

Edward watched as Winry breathed in her sleep. It calmed him down to be able to see her and know she was okay. This wasn’t something he could protect her from; it wasn’t a villain he could fight. Even if everything was okay this time it didn’t mean it would be the next. I just want you to be safe and healthy. He reached forward and lightly brushed some hair away from her face. As he did, Winry turned her head slightly towards him. He took her hand in his own and squeezed it gently. In return he felt a light squeeze. That’s strange. I thought she was asleep. He did it again. Same response. Maybe it’s some kinda muscle thing or something. Edward thought about it as he rubbed circles on the back of her hand. Or maybe… maybe she’s reassuring me even now. He stayed there, deep in thought, and didn’t even notice as the sun rose.

[bensredemption]

Just a Little Rain  →  for @spacereylos​.  feel better soon ♡

Rey had been sick for two days. Technically speaking, it was closer to five, but she had spent the first three ignoring her gradually worsening condition. There was too much to be done— she and Ben were hunting down the remaining Knights of Ren, a task proving to be far more difficult than they had anticipated— and she couldn’t afford to spend days in a sickbed. Their journey had taken them to Jabiim, a torrential planet in the Outer Rim. They trekked through muddy swamps and pouring rain on the heels of the rogue knight for days, but she eluded them at every turn. Rey, still mostly accustomed to the desert climate of Jakku, was completely out of her element. Her immune system had taken a hard hit, and that’s why she was now wrapped up beneath several blankets in her bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon.

Ben came down the corridor and into the main hold where Rey’s bunk was. She saw that he was carrying a tray of food, even though Rey had insisted that she wasn’t hungry. She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe he’d leave her be if he thought she was still asleep.

The room stayed quiet. Rey had to resist the urge to open one eye and see what he was doing. She knew he was there; she could sense his presence.

She was tired, and the longer she pretended to be asleep, the more she felt like she actually could doze off again. But then there was a sudden bang that sent Rey jolting upright.

Ben stood by the lounge area just a few feet away, his arms crossed. “I knew you were awake,” he said. Ben didn’t smile— not ever— but sometimes, like right now, she could see the suggestion of amusement in his expression.

”Thanks for that,” said Rey. The worst of her headache was gone, along with the fever, but she was still weak and tired; she wanted nothing more than to stay buried beneath her warm blankets and shut the universe out.

Ben, who seemed to be committed to keeping her from that goal, gestured to the tray of food which he had, evidently, slammed onto the hologame table.

Rey sighed, rising from the bed and wrapping the heavy wool blanket tightly around herself. Her aching muscles protested as she slowly wobbled over to the lounge seat, which she unceremoniously flopped down onto.

“Did you reach our contact in Choal?” she asked.

“No,” said Ben, frowning. “It’s these electrical storms. Comlinks are unstable. I can’t imagine what Amirah is up to here. Even repulsorcrafts are practically useless.”

Jabiim was notorious for it’s unstable electrical fields. The sodden terrain and relentless storms made surface travel particularly difficult, and Ben was growing increasingly frustrated with each passing day. She knew that he wasn’t angry with her, it wasn’t her fault that she got sick, after all, but they were the only two on this mission, and so her poor state had slowed them down tremendously.

Ben went and sat down at the technical station just across the room while Rey inspected the food he had brought. There was a piece of bread that surely came from the ship’s stocked Rations, and a steaming bowl of soup that was decidedly not from the Rations. It was thick and lumpy, and a completely unappetizing shade of green.

“There isn’t any porg in this, is there?” The birds that had piled onto the Millennium Falcon before she left Ahch-To had made themselves quite at home. They’d been a constant thorn in Chewbacca’s side.

“Now there’s an idea,” said Ben. He liked them even less than Chewie did.

“You’re awful.” Rey swirled the spoon around the bowl, scrutinizing the contents. “I know you talk to them when you think I can’t hear you. In fact, just the other day— Achoo!“

Ben waved his hand, sending a container of tissues gracefully floating over to Rey’s spot on the lounge seat.

Rey was strong in the Force. She didn’t doubt that. But there was something so effortless in the way Ben used his abilities. He told her it was only because he’d been using it his entire life. You’ll get there, he’d promised. Have patience.

“It’s vegetables, roots, and bark,” said Ben. “No porg. My mother used to make it for me as a child whenever I came down with the flu. I had to make due with what was available here, but it’s mostly the same.”

Thinking of a young Ben being doted on by Leia made Rey feel sad for the both of them; a feeling she quickly tried to conceal. Ben was still uncomfortable talking about his family.

Lately, he seemed to be uncomfortable talking about anything.

Rey often wondered if they shared too much too fast; if that was the reason he had became so guarded and distant after those first few days together.

She watched him as he worked at the control panel. It was hard to reconcile this composed and collected version of Ben with the broken, desperate man that had come to her immediately after defecting from the First Order.

“It’s very… green,” said Rey. She couldn’t see any bark or leaves— whatever the ingredients were, they were cut too small to recognize. Regardless, nothing that color could possibly taste good.

“It is nutritional,” said Ben. “If you’re content with prolonging your congestion, headaches, and squeaky sneezes—“

“Squeaky?”

“—then by all means, have more of the Rations that have probably been laying around here since before I was born.”

“Alright, alright,” said Rey. “I’ll try it.” Squeaky? She never would have thought her sneezes sounded any more or less squeaky than anyone else’s. Is he… teasing me?

Rey scooped up an ominous heap of soup, wincing slightly as a glob of it slipped off her spoon and splashed back into the bowl. It can’t be that bad, she told herself. Rey doubted that Leia would have served him anything much worse than the portions Rey lived off of on Jakku. 

Ben didn’t turn around from his work, which Rey was grateful for. She didn’t think she’d be able to hide her disgust if it tasted as awful as it looked. She steeled herself for the worst and ate a spoonful. 

The distaste she expected never came. The soup had a certain earthy flavor, and the texture was unusual, but it wasn’t terrible. She swallowed another spoonful. And then another.

“It’s actually not bad,” she admitted. Ben, focused on whatever he was doing at the control panel, simply offered an indifferent hum.

“Tokru,” Ben said over the comlink. “Tokru, this is Ben Solo. Do you copy?”

Ben Solo. He wasn’t Kylo Ren anymore— hadn’t been for weeks— but every time he said his own name, it made something flutter in Rey’s chest.

It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“Tokru, this is Ben Solo. Do you read?”

There was no response. Not even a flurry of static to let them know that the channel was active, even if disrupted. Ben slammed the comlink down in frustration. “We’re going to lose her.”

Rey knew he felt a sense of responsibility for them. The Knights of Ren. Childhood friends that had followed in Ben’s footsteps, fleeing Luke’s Temple and swearing allegiance to Snoke and the First Order. But Amirah, for some reason, seemed to affect Ben more than the others.

Rey could still remember the way Ben pleaded with Shios Ren, the last Knight they had managed to track down. We’re going to form a new Jedi Order, Ben had told him. It’s going to be different.

Shios would not be reasoned with. Angry and afraid, like a cornered beast, he attacked Ben with primal fury. There was nothing graceful in Shios’ movements; his fighting style was unlike anything Rey had seen before, not even in Ben. Shios was more hatred and rage than skill, fiercely hacking and slashing at Ben with his blazing red lightsaber.

Rey had stood to the side, watching their duel with her heart in her throat and her hand in a white-knuckled grip around her own ignited lightsaber, ready to strike if Ben needed her.

Ben parried each blow with precision, holding back and willing Shios to come back to the light, as Ben himself had done. It had gone on like that until a particularly brutal slash caught Ben on the leg. Rey had screamed, and started to charge, but Ben was able to cut Shios down in one fell swoop before she reached them. 

After, Rey had tended to Ben’s burn. She removed one of her arm wraps and bandaged it around his upper thigh. She could still remember the way his lips parted and eyes darkened as he watched her do it, the way her own hands trembled as she worked.

She felt herself blushing at the memory, and quickly tried to put it out of her mind. It would return. It always did. At night, in her bunk, she’d think about that moment, and wonder if Ben thought about it too.

“Achoo!”

Ben walked across the room towards Rey and examined her tray. “Make sure you eat the bread too,” he said.

She furrowed her brow at the order and he sighed. “You need to get your strength back,” he said. “You need to eat.”

“I really am feeling much better,” said Rey, even as she reached for the bread. It was true; she knew she was past the worst of it. 

“I’ve got to make sure this storm isn’t wreaking havoc on the hyperdrive,” he said, heading out of the room.

“Ben,” Rey called after him.

He stopped, turning to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the dinner. And… for looking after me.”

Ben simply nodded before turning back around and walking down the corridor, leaving Rey  alone with her thoughts. The canopy of trees overhead provided little in the way of shelter from the pouring rain. Flashes of lightning filled the sky and thunder rumbled the ground. Rey could actually feel the electricity in the air, like static.

I’ve been here, she thought. Just the other day. With Ben.

Why was it so hard to remember?

Rey’s lightsaber was casting a blue glow into the fog that surrounded her.

But that was wrong too. It wasn’t her new saber, but the first one she had wielded. The one that had belonged to Luke. And to his father.

Someone was watching her.

Rey spun around, struggling to keep her balance on the muddy ground, and was met by the sight of woman standing across from her, cloaked all in black. Her face was cast in shadows.

“Who are you?” asked Rey. The thunder drowned out her voice. “Amirah?”

“You’ve been searching for me,” said Amirah. Why could Rey hear her so clearly through the storm, while barely being able to make out her own voice?

“Ben and I—“

“No,” interrupted Amirah. “You. You’ve been searching for signs of me in him.”

A wind rushed through the trees, spraying rain in Rey’s face and making her shiver.  “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. Go on, ask me. Ask the question that’s been burning a hole in you since you started this journey.”

The ground shook with another clap of thunder. “Were you lovers?” asked Rey. “You and Ben?”

Rey still couldn’t make out Amirah’s face, but she imagined a leering smile was there when she asked Rey, “Why do you want to know?”

“I just want to understand him,” said Rey.

“And yet you do not ask him yourself.” Amirah’s voice was changed. It was familiar somehow, but Rey couldn’t place it.

“He stopped sharing anything with me!” Rey felt tears welling in her eyes. “Every time I get close to him, he pulls away. He may as well still be wearing a mask.”

“But he isn’t,” said Amirah, stepping out of the shadows and pointing at the ground. But it wasn’t Amirah at all.

Rey was looking at herself.

A dream, Rey thought. This isn’t real.

She looked down, and sure enough the mask of Kylo Ren lay smashed in pieces at her feet. “I don’t understand.”

“Rey.”

Ben’s voice came from behind her. She turned to see him staring at her, confused, his hair and clothes wet with rain.

“Why are you shutting me out?” Rey asked angrily, stomping toward him.

"I’m not—”

“You are!” she shouted. “I want to know why.”

Ben looked down at her, his eyes dark and sad. “I’m a monster, remember?”

His words snuffed out the rage inside her, leaving only an ache in her chest.

“Ben,” she said. “You’re not. I didn’t know you... I didn’t know what you were going through.”

“I’ll destroy you.” He said it so quietly, but Rey could hear him clearly even through the wind and rain and thunder.

Rey shook her head. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

There were beads of rain on his face, as well as droplets that were not rain. He stepped closer to her.

“You won’t,” she repeated in a whisper.

Rey held her breath as Ben reached his hand out to touch her face in a gesture than was achingly intimate. Once he did, the feel of his skin on hers was so solid and real that it immediately jolted her awake.

Rey was laying in her bunk with Ben standing over her, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Ben?” she asked, confused.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a stumbling step backwards. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—” he gestured vaguely at her. “You looked cold.”

She touched the blanket that had been laid over her. Was it only a dream? Or something more?

“It’s okay,” said Rey, trying to steady her breathing. She wanted to reach for him, but he was already too far away.

Ben nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he turned and rushed down the corridor.

It was only after he was gone that she realized he hadn’t simply brought her a blanket. The last thing Rey remembered, before her dream, was sitting on lounge seat, practicing Dejarik on the hologame table. That was where she had dozed off… which meant Ben had carried her to bed.

If Rey had any more dreams after falling back asleep, she didn’t remember them. Rey woke in the morning in better condition than she’d been in all week, despite her restless sleep. After a sonic shower and change of clothes, she actually felt like her normal self again.

She found Ben in the engineering bay, crouched above a disassembled circuitry panel with a hydrospanner.

“You’re going to have to give me the recipe for that soup,” she said. “I think it cured me. It’s not a family secret, is it?”

“Hardly,” said Ben. He had his back to her as he focused on his work. “Apparently it was something an old Jedi Master made for Luke.”

“Luke’s master?” she asked, excitedly. “Ben Kenobi?”

Rey had familiarized herself with the Jedi that Ben Solo was named for through stories and the holocrons that Ben had tracked down and hidden away during his time in the First Order. Many of the holocrons were from long before Luke’s time, but some held teachings recorded by Jedi just before the rise of the Empire.

“Not Kenobi,” said Ben. “Yoda.”

“So… it’s a secret Jedi recipe then?” she asked. “I’m a Jedi now too, you know.”

Ben lowered the hydrospanner and turned to look at her. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Much,” said Rey, leaning against the doorway.

“Good,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re going to make contact with Tokru today. The rain’s eased up since last night.”

“Oh, good,” said Rey. “That’s… good.” She chewed her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Ben must have sensed her nervousness. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

She tried to sound as casual as she could. “About last night…”

Ben drew in a sharp breath and Rey saw color rising in his cheeks. She could sense the array of emotions he was feeling.

“You were there,” she said.

They’d been in each other’s thoughts and feelings, had talked— even touched— across lightyears. But this, sharing a dream, was entirely new.

“It was only for a moment,” he admitted, putting down the hydrospanner and standing. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“How long were you there?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“It lasted a minute— if that,” he said, approaching her from across the room. “It was… raining.”

I’m a monster, remember?

“I thought I saw Amirah first,” said Rey.

She watched Ben carefully for his reaction, but when his eyebrows lifted in surprise, she knew he had not been present for the earlier exchange.

“I’m not sure if she’d be capable of consciously appearing to you,” he said.

“I don’t think it was really her.” She remembered the way Amirah had changed form to be a reflection of Rey herself, just before Ben appeared. “I don’t even know what she looks like.”

“She’s strong with the Force,” said Ben. “But not as strong as you. You don’t have to be worried.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” said Rey.

“Good.” He was so close now, standing not even an arm’s-reach in front of Rey. “She won’t overpower us, but I’m hoping that it doesn’t come to that. I don’t think it’s too late for her.”

She thought back to her dream. The question that’s been burning a hole in you. Rey had to know… even if the answer hurt.

“Were you and Amirah… close?”

Ben didn’t seem to expect that. He tilted his head, searching her face. Rey focused on concealing her emotions. “Don’t do that,” she snapped.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said, carefully. “We grew up together.”

“It’s really none of my business,” said Rey, turning away.

“Wait.” Ben gently grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. “She was just a friend, Rey.”

Rey wanted to escape; to run and hide on the other side of the Falcon— or better yet, the other side of the galaxy— but he didn’t let her go.

Rey forced herself to look at him, and was amazed to see a desperately apologetic look in his eyes. It was reminiscent of when he had first come to ask for her help.

All at once, Rey understood why Ben had been creating so much distance between them, why he had been fighting so hard against the bond that connected them through the Force... He was terrified.

I’ll destroy you, he had told her in the dream.

“Rey,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I—“

“Solo,” blared a sudden voice, interrupting Ben and startling them both. “Solo, do you copy?”

Ben let her go and fumbled for his comlink. Rey stepped away from him, her back hitting the wall behind her.

“Tokru,” Ben said into the com. “I read you.”

Rey struggled to regain her composure as her heart beat wildly in her chest.

“Damned storm took down our entire communications system,” the Jabiimi explained. “We just got 'em up and runnin’ again.”

“We assumed as much,” said Ben. “Were you able to find any intel on Amirah?”

“Aye,” said Tokru. “But you’re not gonna like it.” After Tokru informed Ben that Amirah had stowed away on a cargo ship headed for Jaresh, Ben’s frustration had been palpable. He’d stormed into the cockpit with Rey trailing behind him, their unfinished conversation seemingly forgotten. Ben interrogated Tokru over the com link for any other information while punching Jaresh’s coordinates into the navicomputer.

Rey had left him there to go about giving the Falcon a final once-over, just to be sure the ship was ready for hyperspace after spending almost a week in the volatile atmosphere of Jabiim.

When she came upon the freight loading room, she saw the doors had been left open and the ramp was lowered.

Rey could smell the rain in the air from outside.

At the end of the ramp, shielded from the rain beneath the hull of the ship, was Ben. His stance told Rey he was meditating.

Rey went to stand beside him. The sky still crackled with lightning and thunder, but the rainfall seemed almost gentle now, compared to the torrential downpour that had plagued them since their arrival.

“We’re going to find her,” Rey said.

“I know what I have to do,” said Ben, staring out at the densely packed forrest in front of them. “This order need to be abolished, one way or another. There’s still the First Order as well, but I think once we’ve taken care of the Knights of Ren, things will be… different.”

Rey didn’t understand. “Different how?”

Ben finally looked at her, and the pain and remorse that she could see in his features made her want to cry. “The things I’ve done…” he said. “I know that I can’t atone for all of it. But this— ending the Knights of Ren, maybe even bringing some of them back from the Dark Side— this I can do.”

She reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. “We’ll do it together.”

“I still feel the pull to the Darkness,” Ben said. “It’s not what it once was, but it’s there.” Then he took her hand into his own.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Rey.”

“You don’t have to go through this this alone,” she said.

Ben ran his thumb over Rey’s knuckles, and she was amazed by how such a simple touch could send a shiver down her spine.

“I remember watching you in the rain on Ahch-To,” Ben said softly.

“It was the first time I’d ever seen it,” she said.

Ben nodded. “I could sense your emotions.”

Rey’s heart was pounding like it had been in the engineering bay just a few hours ago. Something was changing. 

“What did you feel?” she asked

His free hand came up to touch her face, the way he had in the dream.

“Wonder,” he said. “Awe. Reverence.”

“I feel that right now,” said Rey. Her voice was almost a whisper. The distance between them was closing, though she wasn’t sure who was leaning into whom. “I feel it in you too.”

“It’s not because of the rain,” said Ben. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

“I know.”

Their lips met, and in that moment Rey finally understood why the Force kept bringing them together. Relief washed over her like rain and she knew it was not only her own, but Ben’s too. The feel of his mouth against hers was so different, so new, yet there was a sense of familiarity there too.

Ben was so much taller than her, but he wasn’t awkward in the way he leaned down into her; his hand moved to her lower back and he pulled her close, deepening their kiss and pressing their bodies together.

Their lips parted and slid against each other’s; each tiny movement set every nerve in her alight. Her hand was buried in Ben’s hair, and she felt herself pulling him hard against her, desperate to be as close to him as she could be.

A sudden crash of lightning startled them, and they pulled apart breathlessly. Ben looked about as overwhelmed as Rey felt; his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled.

They still held onto each other, and Ben’s hand moved from where it had been cradling the back of her head and over to her cheek. She felt his thumb wipe away a tear that she couldn’t remember shedding.

He was looking at her with an affection that she had never felt. This was what she had been looking for her whole life without knowing.

Then Rey saw Ben Solo smile for the first time.

It was so slight that it might have have gone unnoticed had they not been so close, but it made an incredible warmth blossom in her chest. She smiled back, closing her eyes and turning her face into his hand. Then, suddenly, she realized what felt so familiar about this moment.

She had seen it once before.

It wasn’t as explicit then as it was now— and she certainly had seen no indication of the kiss they had just shared— but she knew it was the same. Her eyes found Ben’s and she saw the same realization there.

He had seen it too, after all.

When they first touched hands through the Force, they had both seen the shape of this moment; it was made her go to him, what made him later come to her. It was this— the two of them.

Together.

Ben shut the freight loading doors after they had made their way up the ramp and back inside the Millennium Falcon. “Jaresh isn’t too far,” he said. “We should be able to— Achoo!”

Rey looked at him hesitantly, but Ben simply shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. But he only made it three more steps before sneezing again.

Rey touched his forehead, and found it unusually warm. “You’re burning up,” she said, taking his arm in hers and leading him out of the holding room.

Within an hour, Ben had assumed Rey’s old position on the lounge seat. He was already suffering from a slight headache, along with the early symptoms that had plagued Rey when she’d first come down with it.

“You’ll be over it soon,” said Rey as she entered the room, holding a steaming cup of Surian tea in each hand and concentrating on Force gliding the last of the stack of blankets and pillows she’s washed toward the bed.

Ben sneezed again, then sighed miserably.

“You just need rest and fluids," said Rey, placing the two cups down on the hologame table. “It looks like you’ll have to give me the recipe for Master Yoda’s soup after all.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Ben said accusingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, carefully arranging the pillows and blankets around him.”

“Of course not,” said Ben.

When Rey settled down next to him on the lounge seat, snuggling happily against his side, he looked down at her in surprise, but then smiled that same, soft smile she had seen on ramp outside.

“Well,” said Ben, passing Rey a cup of tea before wrapping his arm around her, “things could certainly be worse.”

[landywinslow]

The Ides of March

  What do you call the anniversary of something you didn’t want to happen? Is there a name for that? Maybe it’s just “anniversary,” but with a dark timbre of voice? Either way, there’s an experience that most of us shared about twelve months ago, and I’m not sure exactly how to commemorate it. Like, part of me feels like celebrating something. Resilience. Survival. Etc. But part of me wants to spend the day laying in the fetal position with a bucket of strong drink.

  Overall, I feel proud. I’m proud of the ingenuity of our species collectively and individually. I’m proud of all of us for navigating (however awkwardly) the restrictions and profound anxiety of all of it. I’m proud of the millions and billions of us who have stolidly continued to place one foot in front of the other amidst loss of loved ones, loss of income, loss of any and every sense of security. I’m proud of all the people trudging forward with ravaged mental health, emotional exhaustion, and the crippling sense that we aren’t moving forward at all but sliding and struggling down a filthy muddy slope of futility. Despite everything, we continue. Maybe not to do anything but we continue.

  March 13th, 2020 was a Friday. In The Before, I joked about Friday the 13th’s being bad luck. I haven’t joked about it since. It hasn’t been an intentional avoidance, just the fact that our collective existence in the past year has felt like such a string of unbelievably heartbreaking bad luck that I can’t conceptualize it as lighthearted anymore.

  I mention all of this because that thirteenth day of March, the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty was, unbeknownst to me at the time, my Last Normal Day.

  A year ago my family was at the end of a long and grueling battle with a cockroach infestation that had taken up almost every waking thought for a month. The exterminator had come twice, prompting us to completely disembowel and deep clean the kitchen three times. I was kicking myself for the gentle “All Life is Sacred” approach to the small, seemingly non-roach insect I had caught on the counter weeks earlier, and dumped gently into the bushes outside without a second thought. Dealing with a colony of pests while parenting four young kids and starting a new job at a big event venue in town (insert ominous music) was exhausting me faster than I could caffeinate. 

  All of the vague news circulating about a virus swirled around the periphery of my very challenging present. I saw an infographic that said it was less dangerous than the flu, and that eased the itch of anxiety enough for me to put it on the back burner. Dozens of doomsday prophecies had come across my proverbial desk, and had amounted to nothing. I doubted this would be any different. I joked to my neighbor, “Everyone else is talking about this coronavirus stuff, and I’m over here like, ‘Virus? What virus!? My house is FULL OF ROACHES!!!’” as we stood together watching our kids tumble around with each other in the twilight. “The only part of it I’m nervous about,” I remarked, “is school closing. I had a horrible homeschooling experience and my education is shit. I’m terrified to be responsible for their learning, and I’m at the end of my rope as it is!”

  Oh sweet, innocent child. If only she knew how much could (and would) be woven, tied, taped, and glued on to the end of that rope.

  That Friday was drizzly and cold. I decided to be uncharacteristically optimistic and make the best of it by doing something out of the ordinary with the kids. We drove to the nearest indoor mall and wandered around, window shopping and riding the escalators. When we got to the little spongy, rubbery playground they wanted to play, so after depositing their shoes and socks next to a dozen others in the little cubbies, I opened up my phone to zone out a bit. I stumbled across a meme that said, “Just a warning, this week starts with changing the clocks, moves to a full moon, and ends with a Friday the 13th… Good luck people! Ps: Don’t forget to wash your hands.” I chuckled and sent it to a couple friends.

  Everything was fine until a little toddler I didn’t know came up beside me, sniffly and coughing. As I reflexively shifted away from her, a shadow of dread crept into my chest; Maybe we should go wash our hands. I called my kids over and reminded them to not touch their faces until we were finished playing there, which in child-code meant: Pick your nose and/or lick your hand immediately. I rolled my eyes and went back to my phone. A friend or two had posted about closures in their cities, cases beginning to accumulate. I began to worry, but it wasn’t here right? I became increasingly aware of the crowds of people around us, the very first anxiety about group contagion that I can remember experiencing. It’s not here I reassured myself, malls seem contagious in the best of times. But even as I worked to calm the bubbling fear, my passive assessment of risk silently transitioned into something more tangible. I gave the kids a five minute warning, and seconds later a text alerted me of a new post in our school’s parent portal. My stomach dropped, somehow cognizant that this was the fateful moment. My hands trembled, hesitating over the preview: “Dear Staff and Families...” until finally the weight of not knowing was heavy enough to push my thumb across the screen, unsealing the portentous message.

  I skimmed it so quickly for bad news that I ended up having to re-read it three times before finding the key information: “There has been a community-based transmission of COVID-19 in San Diego county. As such, we are cancelling all field trips, social events, and learning center instruction through April 10th.” The hammer fell so gently at the end of that sentence that it didn’t sink in all at once, but rolled around on the surface of my mind for a few moments. All instruction... Cancelled until April 10th. Tears queued up along my lower lids, the first of a very long line. No sense in putting it off, I sighed after a moment of silence for the coming trials. I called my kids to leave and to give them the news, already knowing that their initial reaction would be the opposite of mine. School closed for a month was a dream come true for them. But I knew it wasn’t a month off of school, it was a month of not going to school. A month of my brain stretched thin, full of holes, having to face up to one of my most visceral and life long insecurities. Homeschooling meant working double time, through crippling self doubt, first to learn all of the concepts myself and then, juggling four grade levels, attempting to translate the information to humanoid pinballs who would much rather be doing something else. I felt sick with dread.

  In reality, a month would have been such a lenient sentence, wouldn’t it? The disbelief I experienced back then while attempting to look forward is an inverted version of what I feel now looking back. The exact same sense, but from opposite views. Last March I couldn’t believe how impossibly long a month seemed. Now I can’t believe that I thought a month was so long.

  After we left the mall, I dropped by our school to pick up a workbook and spoke with one of the teachers. We laughed together at how silly it all was. We were sure that it would pass quickly and said that maybe we’d make the most of it by snagging one of the newly affordable flights. The next day I went to work and repeated that conversation ad nauseum with my coworkers. “They say it’s not even as bad as the flu!” We parroted back and forth, because it comforted us. At the end of our shift we all gathered around to ask our boss about job security. “None of the shut down orders apply to us,” she assured, “and we’re booked solid for the rest of the year. Nothing to worry about here!” That was my last shift.

  I recently rewatched some of the entertainment content that came out a year ago. Clunky interviews and table reads done from whatever corner of the house was quietest; celebrities looking slightly dishevelled in their own clothes and diy hair and makeup, recording from iPhones and laptop cameras without proper lighting. Everyone kind of hunching over a screen that was balanced on whatever flat surface was nearby, just like my friends and I do it. It was like everyone’s mask came off, and underneath we were all the same: exposed, scared humans attempting to hold on to any semblance of normalcy within reach. During my rewatching, I found a Tonight Show interview with Lin Manuel Miranda that aired five days after my Last Normal Day. Following a maladroit preamble, Jimmy Fallon says, “A lot of people are saying to me, ‘You must be getting a lot of work done right now, a lot of writing done.’ Are people asking you that?” and in the desperate tone of every disoriented parent, Lin replies, “I’m not getting work done! I’m learning how to teach math!”

  I found the interview equal parts endearing and heartbreaking. We were still so bright eyed and cautiously optimistic that a solution was right around the corner. We just had to flatten the curve. A year later, it feels like all capability for optimism has been sapped, leaving nothing but an indigestible husk. And yet, here I am. For months and months and months every plan has had to change, every expectation has had to pivot, and every experience has been seasoned with disappointment. The reflexive code of, “I can’t do this. I can’t possibly do this.” has run through me on an infinite loop. But I did do it. I am doing it. All of us are. We continue. Despite the stress and isolation and loss and grief we experience. We exist. We are self sustaining verbs, even in what feels like stasis.

  Do you see what I mean about not knowing how to feel about this anniversary? Even at our most beaten down, we are remarkable and there is such a tension between the positive and negative of that. In her poignant and encouraging article for The Atlantic titled “5 Pandemic Mistakes We Keep Making,” Zeynep Tufekci writes, “Hope nourishes us during the worst times, but it is also dangerous. It upsets the delicate balance of survival—where we stop hoping and focus on getting by—and opens us up to crushing disappointment if things don’t pan out.” In all honesty, I’m not ready to hope again. It’s too much to ask, after these last twelve months have burned through every reserve. But I’m also not ready to mourn this last year. The weight of loss has already hung so heavily that asking anything more of us is unthinkable.

  A few months ago I began casually looking into the 1918 flu, as a sort of morbid self soothing exercise. I enjoy reading about it because, while the impact was devastating, the similarity of restrictions and the photos of everyone wearing (less fashionable) masks brings a comforting sense of camaraderie. But mostly I like reading about it for one single fact: it ended. I think that’s the most hope-adjacent perspective possible. We don’t know when our pandemic will end, but whenever it is, it is inevitable. When I put it like that, acknowledging that there was that day last March when everything changed for me, and acknowledging that there will be some other day or days where things inevitably continue to change… acknowledging that there’s no way possible to get back to old normal and no way yet to get to a new normal… it brought a sort of acceptance. I’m not ready to hope or celebrate or mourn, but I am ready to accept. Ultimately, I think acceptance is the only possible way I can commemorate this milestone that is not a beginning or an end. This anniversary of my Last Normal Day simply exists. Just like me. Just like you. I accept that it is a single milestone on a long, treacherous path, and I will keep trudging forwards through however many more days are before me, finding little spots of color and beauty as best I can. The other thing I notice while reading about the last pandemic is how it segued almost seamlessly into the Roaring Twenties. I don’t know about you, but whenever it is that we finally look around and find ourselves in the falling action of this pandemic’s narrative, I sure as hell plan to live it up.