Work Text:
The first addled, fragmented thought that managed to bubble to the surface of her mind was that it was an incredibly annoying thing to have a body. At least, if it was going to behave like
this.
Every limb felt so heavy and ached so much that for a moment Franziska found herself debating if it was worth having any at all. No, the feeling went beyond that – it extended even to hear eyelids, which fluttered and fell shut again repeatedly as she tried to force them open. Through the first tiny cracks that managed to form, she tried her best to peer through a layer of film across her vision, only to shrink backwards and groan, eyes squeezing tightly shut again in response to the sudden light.
Although her head was swimming, she tried to lift it, some instinctive drive to keep moving and put herself together trying to inspire her to climb to her disobeying feet. Inarticulate mumbles escaped her lips, head pounding too much to allow coherent thought, and with a note of distant frustration she noticed her body shaking with chills.
Scarcely had she managed to lift herself even slightly off her pillow before a hand settled on her shoulder and pushed her back down. Despite a stubborn exclamation of protest, Franziska’s body left her no choice but to comply, and as the realization that she wasn’t alone dawned she once again made an attempt to force her eyes open.
“Whoa there, take it easy!”
Recognition immediately followed the sound of the voice, and before Franziska could process that her lips were moving she’d already mumbled “Maya Fey . . .” A few moments later, she managed to get blurry eyes to focus on the black and purple shape before her, trying her best to make out the other woman’s face.
Clarity of vision – or at least something resembling it – brought with it a rush of sudden memory. Already, Franziska’s face had been uncomfortably warm, and it only grew more so when faced with the sudden wave of embarrassment that accompanied her recollection of just what had happened.
She wasn’t a
fool.
As soon as that tell-tale tickle had begun at the back of her throat, she’d known she was sick. She just hadn’t allowed that to control her or affect her behavior, because right did a little thing like a cold have to that kind of power? No, she wouldn’t tolerate it, and she
hadn’t
tolerated it. Despite the muscle aches, swimming vision, and increasing raspiness to her voice, she’d managed to force herself – head held high even despite the odd looks she pretended not to see – throughout the entirety of her work day. Not only that, but she’d arrived even earlier than the time she and Maya had agreed to meet after.
She wasn’t about to be late for a date, after all. Nor did she even once consider canceling – that would have been unacceptable.
But it wasn’t long after they’d met up that her memory grew fuzzy, and try as she might now she couldn’t recall past a certain point where everything seemed . . . warm, dizzying and . . .
“That’s me. You really freaked me out for a moment, you know that?” Maya was speaking in a cheerful voice, ever so slightly teasing, and her lips were curled in a smile. She was hovering close over where Franziska was laying, an arm reached out holding something cool to her forehead.
The sensation was far more pleasant than it had a right to be, and despite herself Franziska found an almost dorky smile briefly twisting her lips, eyes fluttering briefly shut. Unconsciously, she pressed up against Maya’s hand, only pulling away and falling back down to her pillow when self-awareness finally caught up and suggested she be embarrassed.
“I’m fine. You didn’t have to . . .” She’d begun insisting automatically, tongue feeling strangely heavy, but was left uncertain how to finish. Have to . . . what? What exactly had Maya Fey done? She only had a few theories, refusing to solidify in her fuzzy mind, and somehow she got the idea that she wouldn’t appreciate the picture they made when finally put together.
“Bring you home?” Maya was kind (or merciless) enough to finish for her, eyebrows raising as she leaned a little bit forward, patting the rag against a different part of Franziska’s brow before pulling away while leaving it in place. “Well, the alternative was leaving you on the ground where you passed out. And that seemed kind of rude, so. Here we are.”
Right. As they’d been walking, her knees had grown heavy and weak, head spinning more by the minute . . .until finally the world had begun to tilt. Then . . .
Face warm now with something other than fever, Franziska managed to balk. “I – I –” she began, but was a bit too humiliated to finish.
Passed out.
What a foolish and horrible display of weakness – how had she allowed that to happen? And somehow without waking up again the entire time they were apparently coming back to what she now recognized glancing around as her bedroom.
Mouth open and eyes wide, she looked to her partner with an expression that could only be described as horrified, the haze of illness eating away at carefully cultivated self-control with every moment. Desperately, she searched her addled mind for an excuse, for a response, for absolutely
anything
to defend herself –
Frustration built upon pain and weakness to the kind of breaking point that could no longer be either contained or ignored.
And with that, Franziska von Karma burst into tears.
“Whoawhoawhoa – You ok?” Immediately, Maya jerked upright and forward, hands waving unhelpfully in front of her. “Are you hurt? I picked up some medicine, I can –”
“Nooooo –” what was intended to be a firm dismissal came out instead as a whiny sob, the coherent part of Franziska’s brain internally cringing at herself. Breathless, she attempted to take in a breath, but only managed to sniffle through the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and the mucus building up in her nose. “No, don’t – you don’t have to . . . to take care of me. Don’t be a fool – I’m perfectly – perf. . .ectly . . .f-fine. . .”
As she’d spoken, she’d made another valiant attempt to sit upright with the intention of standing. Scarcely had she managed to put herself into something resembling a sitting position, however, before she found herself toppling forward. Had Maya not been there, she’d have fallen completely out of the bed, and was only saved by the arms that quickly moved to catch her around the waist. A short, awkward squeaking noise escaping her throat, Franziska reflexively clung around Maya’s back, face buried somewhere near her shoulder.
A quiet laugh met her ears, which would have been infuriating had it not been so adorable. At least it seemed like Maya wasn’t worried now so much as amused. “Yeah, sure,” she remarked. “This is
totally
what someone who’s completely fine looks like. I’ve never seen a better example of anyone being totally fine. Now sit back, I’ve got you some food.”
Though thoroughly reluctant to do so, Franziska had little choice but to allow herself to be laid back down. Even aside from the urge to retain some kind of dignity, a significantly whiny part of her simply didn’t want to let go of Maya.
But, still sniffling, she allowed her hands to fall away, limply into her lap. Wrinkling her nose, she shied away a little, not finding the thought of food particularly appealing. “You don’t have to –”
“Well, I’m doing it.” In the middle of reaching for something on the nightstand next to bed, Maya paused, then added “Okay?”
When Franziska hesitated to respond, not doing so immediately, Maya sighed and sat back in the chair she’d pulled up next to the bed, pulling a plastic container with her. She didn’t move to open it, however, instead leaving it covered in her lap. “Look, if you really don’t want me here, I’ll go. I don’t even know why you bothered to leave the house when you’re clearly sick today, anyway. But you’re not going to get any better if you just lay here and let yourself rot, or if you force yourself to just keep moving until you pass out again. You’ll just keep getting worse until you fall out or sneeze on someone way worse than me, and then you’ll just be even
more
embarrassed. But like I said – if you really,
really
don’t want me to –”
“No –” Again, the half-whine half-sob escaped before she could stop herself, and with a heavy hand Franziska pawed deliriously in Maya’s direction. Retaining some semblance of dignity for a moment, she then swallowed hard with her aching throat and curled her fingers into a fist, rapidly blinking stinging tears from her eyes while glancing down and away. “You don’t have to go. I . . .” A new wave of tears rose to her eyes as a chill made its way through her body. “I don’t . . .want you to go. It’s just that –”
Raising both hands beside her, she gestured helplessly before letting both of them fall back into her lap, fingers curling into the blanket across her lap and holding tightly. “I’m
gross
and pathetic and – and
snotty
and an absolute mess, and I’m sure I’m an entirely
ugly
sight and now everyone’s – and – and you –”
She’d spoken quickly, angrily, as she would while attempting to scold another person, but the tone had progressively devolved and crumbled into sobs, shoulders shaking as she pried her fingers from the blanket in order to make a pitiful attempt to cover her face. Shortly after doing so, quiet blubbers thoroughly preventing any articulation, she felt Maya’s hand upon her wrist. It didn’t move to pull her hand away, instead merely holding gently as the woman herself shifted closer.
“And me? And me what? I’m here. I’m here and I’ve got soup – that’s all you have to worry about.” Her voice was as light and teasing as ever, a fact that somehow had Franziska crying harder even as she slowly lowered her hand, shyly peaking over her fingers.
When met with Maya’s smile, it was impossible not to offer back one of her own, though it was small and wobbly and fuzzy-eyed. Sniffling, she fought an internal war for a moment, some part of her admittedly almost wishing that Maya
would
leave her alone in her misery and humiliation alone.
It wasn’t the part that one out, as the fever appeared to have done enough damage to reach down deep into the back of her mind, unlocking something very small. And perhaps just a little bit clingy.
“O-okay. . .”
That was the manner in which Franziska’s illness – nothing more than a little cold – was spent. For the first time since she’d been an incredibly small child, too young to comprehend the concept of dignity, she allowed herself to be doted on. Or at least something resembling as much – it wasn’t as if Maya had done anything particularly special, but for weeks looking back on the disjointed memories Franziska would find a warmth rising in her chest at the thought of it that had nothing at all to do with either embarrassment or fever.
Pillows propped up behind her and blankets across her lap. Lukewarm, takeout soup, heated up again in the microwave and fed to her spoonful by spoonful with gentle, surprisingly steady hands. Someone at her side as she slept, still there when she woke covered in sweat, entirely unbothered by her completely messy hair. If Maya acknowledged such things, it was only in the form of a gentle tease as she brushed it back into place, Franziska for once not having enough energy to even pretend to be angry in response.
That had been enough for her then, and it was enough for her now. More than that. More sentimental fools would likely have suggested that the treatment, or more specifically the love contained within it, had helped to promote her healing.
Not that Franziska was sentimental. Not at all.
Several months later the cold was no more than a memory, but Franziska once more found herself in distress. This one was a very different kind, worse and less acute than any embarrassment. Head held high and attention focused on her work, she’d done her best to ignore it, but as the days – even weeks – passed it only became harder to ignore.
The affliction this time was one of an interpersonal nature; a poison not of the body, but of the relationship. Far less easily tended to and far more difficult to diagnose, it had grown increasingly difficult to bear despite the most determined events to convince herself she was only being paranoid.
It wasn’t unusual for weeks to pass without the chance for a date, or even a lengthy conversation, as both women led busy lives. Franziska wasn’t ignorant enough to think the responsibilities on Maya’s shoulders were light ones, though it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed explicitly, and of course her own work frequently kept her away for a while, even outside of the country at times.
But they never went very long without talking
at all,
or finding even just a quick moment to steal together before moving onto the next thing. For days now, Maya hadn’t been responding to text messages, often even when Franziska asked a direct question, and when she did respond it was short and often didn’t manage to entirely address what had been said. When Franziska had last reached out, informing Maya that she was soon to board a flight and would be in town in a matter of hours, asking if they could find a moment to speak, Maya hadn’t responded. It was that same screen – full of notifications, but not the one that mattered most at the moment, the one that could have set her mind at ease – that greeted her.
While at first she’d done her best not to read too far into things – getting that emotional over nothing was foolish at the best of times – this was so different from Maya’s typical behavior that it was impossible not to be worried. So, despite her own responsibilities and the fact that she hadn’t technically been given permission to visit, Franziska had steeled herself and started immediately towards Maya’s village.
If she’d done something wrong – if their relationship had run its course, and if Maya had moved on completely – she would face it head on. No backing down or hiding away to allow whatever this poison could be to eat away at things until there was nothing left of the loved they shared.
She could hope, whatever it was that had afflicted them, it wasn’t terminal.
First arriving at Kurain Village answered little questions, as everything initially appeared to be normal. Normal, that is, save for the fact that Maya herself was nowhere to be seen – another incredibly unusual occurrence, as she wasn’t typically the kind of person to hide herself away. The few mediums Franziska passed greeted her calmly, normally, as if nothing was amiss, and when Franziska finally swallowed her pride enough to question one about Maya, she simply smiled and insisted the Master was busy with a particularly in-depth channeling. It was a busy season for them all, apparently, with several events and projects in the works in addition to meeting with their clients, which had kept Maya incredibly busy for the past few months.
It was an explanation that made sense, and in other circumstances Franziska may have been tempted to accept them at face value. If Maya was busy, it made sense that she’d been distant, having less time to talk and potentially not even enough to meet with her now. That was something Franziska could understand, and she’d never struggled before with respecting a need for space.
But something about that wasn’t quite right. There was something unsettling about it still that she just couldn’t resolve within her, and for some reason her worry was only growing by the moment. She
knew
how Maya behaved when she was busy, and it wasn’t like this. And if it was the past few months that had kept her occupied, then why had she begun behaving differently over the past week? More than that was that, rather than being directed towards any specific channeling room when she’d inquired as to Maya’s location, she’d been directed towards her chambers. Admittedly, not being a spirit medium there could have been a logical explanation, but put together it all sounded rather odd.
So, despite the urge to keep distance between them and retreat, Franziska had given in to her own stubbornness and the analytical streak that had made her a brilliant prosecutor. Ignoring the occasional odd look from the residents of the village – honestly, they should be used to her by now – she’d made her way to Maya’s room, only stopping once she’d reached the door. Determination finally faltering a little, she’d lingered outside.
There was no sound coming from within, and a ward posted to the outside warned against entry. Maya wasn’t to be interrupted. It would be rude to interfere, wouldn’t it? Maybe she should just wait outside . . .
Resigning herself to a long wait, Franziska had at first stood primly a few feet away. Then, against her own pride, she’d eventually given in and had begun to lean on the wall. Some time after that – what could very well have been hours – she’d found herself slipping down until she was sitting on the ground, rapidly building worry – for more at this point than their relationship itself – winning over any kind of prissiness.
Somehow, she’d nodded off, a fitful sleep stealing over her for a while until she was woken by the sleepy bobbing of her own head. Wincing as she became aware of an ache in her neck, Franziska pressed a hand to it while glancing around, soon noting that the hall she was in was completely dark, and night had fallen beyond the windows.
The door hadn’t opened – she was sure of that, certain that she’d have been woken even if Maya hadn’t stopped. Which of course she
would
have – right? But why, after all this time, had she not so much as emerged from her room? There was no channeling process that should last that long, was there? Unless it was some sort of special training . . . or a very important process indeed . . .
Or unless,
a treacherous little voice at the back of her mind whispered,
something had happened.
Finally, worry began to transform slowly but surely into a cold panic, and Franziska immediately moved to act. Pushing herself to her feet, she set her jaw and stuck out her chin while marching up to the door. Fully prepared to kick it in if she had to and deal with however angry Maya would be with her later, she was surprised to find the door unlocked, opening easily beneath her hand as she pushed it open. Had the ward really been the only thing keeping anyone out? Or . . .had someone else already been here?
Throat tight and mind flickering rapidly through any number of worst-case scenarios, she’d pushed the door slowly open while reaching for her whip where it rested on her hip. But no one appeared to ambush her on the other side of the door, and neither was there any horrifying or gruesome scene – no blood, no toppled furniture. Just Maya’s normal level of organized chaos, some things displayed proudly on walls and shelves while others lay tossed to the floor. Maybe a bit more clutter than usual, but nothing particularly disturbing. . .
There was also, she couldn’t help but note, no light. The room was dark, completely so, and it had taken several moments for her eyes to adjust enough to make out the figure on the other side of the room. It was the only sign there was another human being present at all – a small, human-shaped lump beneath the heavy comforter on the bed, curled up and completely still.
Again, her heart leapt briefly into her throat, and Franziska swallowed hard while making her way carefully across the room. On the way, she glanced down, trying not to step on what she’d initially taken to be some form of clothing – socks, maybe – but now was beginning to question. Nudging carefully around what looked to be little white slips of paper, she approached the bed, carefully reaching to pull back the comforter and fearing what it might reveal, like a child peeking under the side of their bed.
What was uncovered was nothing more than Maya’s face – sleeping, but not at ease. Brows drawn tightly together, her mouth was open to let out labored breaths, and her face was flushed darker than normal aside from the tip of her nose, which was dry, cracked, and nearly red. It wasn’t difficult to put together what was wrong, and Franziska let out a slow breath while releasing the blanket and reaching for Maya’s head, pressing the back of her hand gently against it. Hot – just as she’d expected.
In response to the touch itself or perhaps the coolness of her skin, long dark eyelashes fluttered slowly open, although Maya didn’t initially appear to see her. Shifting in place and burrowing deeper in the blanket, she simultaneously pressed instinctively up against the touch, only to pause and let out a short gasp while jerking back and partially upright, propping herself up onto an elbow.
“F-Franzy?” her voice was cracked and somewhat horrified as she blinked up at her, and Franziska withdrew her hand only in favor of lowering it to rest on Maya’s shoulder, attempting to encourage her to lay back down.
“Sh-shh – it’s alright. You don’t have to get up on my account,” she said gently. Then, a bit less gently, she narrowed her eyes and scolded “you didn’t tell me you were sick.”
“Sick? What are you talking about, I’m –” In the middle of insisting as much in a light a tone as she could muster, Maya cut herself off with a coughing fit. By the end of it, her eyes and nose were both streaming, and she sniffled while making a grab for the nightstand. Reaching past her, Franziska passed her the tissue box she’d been reaching for, holding it as she pulled a few out. It was now glaringly obvious what exactly had littered the floor.
“Stop that. There’s no reason to lie to me – not now. Not unless you truly think I’m an idiot.” Although her words were clipped and stern, there was no harshness in Franziska’s voice, and after setting the tissue box back down she moved to sit on the edge of the bed close to Maya’s side.
“An idiot? I dunno, loving me is pretty dumb of you, isn’t it? I –” Maya began, then hesitated. She’d been endeavoring to keep her tone as light as possible, forcing a crooked smile onto her face, but something in her voice had caused the attempt at a joke to sound more sad than anything else. Faltering, she glanced away, then simply shrugged a shoulder towards her ear. “It’s just a cold. There was no reason to worry you. I didn’t . . .didn’t know you’d be here.”
Allowing her hand to slip away and fall back into her lap, Franziska frowned, then pointed out “I
did
message you. You haven’t been responding, or even sending random pictures like you always do. I got worried, so I came straight here as soon as my flight landed. You can’t really be surprised, can you? What else would you expect me to do?”
Seeming taken aback, Maya blinked, turning over onto her back while pushing herself as much upright as possible. “You . . . oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize . . .” she murmured, expression twisting into something pained. “I didn’t mean to take time away from . . .”
“Sh,” Franziska said again, short and brisk. She shook her head, shifting closer. “None of that. I understand enough why you didn’t want to tell me when it’s not like I was here to do anything. But . . .” she glanced towards the door. “No one here knows, do they? They told me you were channeling.”
For a moment, Maya hesitated to respond, clenching the tissues in a fist while lowering herself back down to the bed. Eyes staring up at the ceiling, she swallowed hard, then murmured quietly “. . .No. There was no need to worry them, either. They have enough to worry about.”
Rebuttals immediately rose on Franziska’s tongue, but she bit them back. After several moments, she finally spoke in a quiet voice.
“. . .More important than taking care of you?”
“It’s my job to take care of
them!”
Maya’s voice came quicker, more emphatic than expected, and Franziska looked back in alarm as her voice cracked with tears. They’d risen to her eyes as she stared upwards, and her shoulders shook as she tried to fight them back. “And you. It’s – it’s my job to make everything better, to be there for everyone, to make them happy – if I can’t do that – if they all
look at me
the way you just did, all scared and – and like I’m helpless, incapable – what’s the point of any of it? What good am I? How am I ever supposed to live up to what I have to, how am I ever supposed to be strong like
her –”
“Maya Fey.”
Again, Franziska’s voice had come short and stern, and she turned more towards Maya on the bed. The clenched fist had moved to rest on her chest, rising and falling with every heaving breath, and Franziska reached out to lay one of her own hands gently upon it. There was so much she wanted to say – so much she wanted to refute. So much revealed that she’d never completely understood before, each of which only made her all the more determined to stand at the side of the woman she loved throughout every difficult moment.
But now wasn’t the time for that. For the healing of a mind and spirit to happen, the body must first be attended to. For now, she’d offer something simple. Whatever she’d be allowed.
“. . . You don’t have to be any of those things right now. You’re Maya Fey, and you’re sick, and I love you, and we’re here together,” she said matter-of-fact, as if reporting the details of a case. “And I’m going to take care of you.”
Ever so slightly, she gave the hand beneath her own a squeeze, meeting watery brown eyes as they looked up at her own. For a moment, she feared Maya would protest – but even if she had, Franziska wasn’t about to back down, and it was clear in her gaze that she meant it.
Finally, blessedly, she was met with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Words weren’t necessary at the moment for some sort of connection. Neither woman needed to speak their fears, for they were shared between them. From different angles, perhaps, and manifested in different ways, but that fear of weakness – the burden of responsibility – was one they bore together, yet separately. At least, such was how it had always been before.
Now, that burden in addition to the silence was shared, and Franziska made no comment as she cleaned the discarded tissues from around the room. Water, medicine, and a wet cloth were retrieved, and only once she’d managed to lull Maya back to a more comfortable slumber did she leave, and even then only for a matter of minutes, returning with something that would have made a version of herself from years before cringe – a plastic bag of cheap takeout.
“You came back . . .?” Maya was awake when she returned, blinking blurrily while sitting up in bed. She was met with raised eyebrows, and shook her head while letting out a quiet laugh. “Sorry. Right. Of . . . of course you came back.”
“Of course I did,” Franziska agreed while moving back to the bed. Setting the bag down beside her, she reached inside, feeling somewhat more assured by the way Maya’s gaze flickered towards it with interest. “I’ve brought you something.”
“Is it –?!” Maya had begun excitedly, only to look thoroughly crestfallen a moment later, expression crumbling into a pout. “Oh . . . soup.”
“It’s good soup,” Franziska fired back defensively, in the middle of unwrapping a spoon. Sitting a bit more upright, she blushed. “You fed it to me before, remember? I assumed it . . . was just what one does. What they feed one another when they’re sick.”
“What one does . . .” Maya echoed with a giggle, to which Franziska rolled her eyes. “I mean, I’d have preferred a burger, but – kidding! Kidding! Kind of.”
She’d been met with a glare, and Franziska shortly sighed while shaking her head, dipping the spoon into the plastic take-out container and holding it out for Maya to take. Leaning forward, she made an exaggerated humming noise while taking the spoon between her lips, letting out a content sigh while falling back down on the bed. “Ok . . .it’s
pretty
good. Um . . .”
Hesitantly, she glanced away for a moment, then reached for Franziska’s hand. Her own was warm, causing Franziska’s to feel cold by contrast, and she immediately held it back.
“. . .Thanks, Franzy.”
“You are welcome, Maya Fey.”
A few heartbeats passed, and Maya blinked slowly for a moment while holding her gaze, leaning slowly upward, lips parted –
“MMPH!” Rather than being met with her lover’s lips, she’d instead been suddenly fed another mouthful of soup, and pulled back from it after a moment with a pout. “Hey, what was that?”
“No kisses until you’re better.”
“What?! No kisses
and
no burger?! You’re killing me, actually. I’m going to waste away at this rate! Or die of a broken heart!” Despite her words, Maya had begun to giggle uncontrollably, kicking her feet a little beneath the covers while clinging to Franziska’s hand. It was unbelievably reassuring – for a moment, she was more
herself,
and in contrast to the joke it was the perfect evidence that she was on her way to recovery.
“You are
not
going to get me sick with you,” Franziska insisted while shaking her head, then grabbed another spoonful. “Now be quiet and eat your soup.”
But as she was met with a pitiful whine of protest, she knew it was only a matter of time until she gave in.