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Soldiers don’t always come back. And when they do, they’re not always complete .
Suletta was no different. She might not have been enlisted in any armed force, but she fought all the same, and sacrificed all the same - with any luck, hers would be the last sacrifice GUND technology would take.
But it had taken - taken from her, and taken from everyone around her.
Suletta was weak. The young, energetic girl Miorine had known still shone through occasionally, but how exactly was she supposed to keep up with the rest of them when she could hardly even walk? When she had a migraine? When she couldn’t stop coughing, or sleep through the night?
She’d woken up from her coma, and Miorine had been so happy. And they spent their days together in their home on Earth, and that made her so happy too. But she knew this wasn’t what they were supposed to have.
Now Suletta was sick again.
It was just a cold. Miorine had caught it too, but aside from a runny nose and itchy throat she’d been fine - and she’d already gotten better a week ago.
Suletta wasn’t better.
“Hey, I made tea.”
She was sitting up in bed, though the way she slumped over told Miorine that she probably ought to be laying down right now.
“Thanks, Mio.” She sounded so tired . As she placed the serving tray down over her wife’s legs and poured the honeyed brew into Suletta’s favourite mug, she couldn’t help but check her over again.
It was amazing, in a despairing way, how much a cold like this could take out of her. Her hair seemed to have lost its usual sheen, and she was paler than she ought to be. Her half-lidded eyes were sunken in their sockets, the heavy bags beneath them belying the terrible sleep she’d been getting. Even the Permet scars on her cheeks and neck seemed more pronounced.
Suletta was usually able to live a ‘normal’ life. She only worked part time, but she did work! She taught a classroom full of children at the local school. She got by on crutches usually, though Miorine had gotten the wheelchair out of storage again in case they needed to go to the doctor now.
It was hard to imagine that life right now.
“Mio…”
“Huh? …OH!”
It was a good thing she’d brought the tea out on a tray; she’d gone and overfilled it, the tomato-shaped mug filled to the brim and surrounded by a sizable puddle. She panicked for a moment - but it was fine. It was fine, right? Suletta was smiling, so it couldn’t be that bad, could it? It took a second for her brain to reset, but she was a solutions-oriented person; she could solve this.
First step, put the tea pot down. The whole tray was a sticky mess now, but that was fine, it was just lemon tea and honey, she could clean it later. Second step was a bit awkward, but she managed it - lean in and take a sip so that Suletta’s mug wasn’t threatening to overflow again at the slightest jostle. And third step, pick up said mug and wipe it dry with her handkerchief, and hand it to her wif-
Wait, why is she holding it like that? Why is she grinning, and… blushing?
It takes Miorine a moment to put the pieces together, and suddenly she’s blushing too.
“An indirect kiss? You’re such a child…”
“Ehehehe…”
Suletta makes no apologies as she cups the mug in her hands, holding it the opposite way around from how she usually does - blatantly drinking from the same side Miorine did just a moment ago without a hint of shame.
Even when she’s like… this. Even after all these years, months spent stuck in bed. All this time, and she’s still herself.
Isn’t that ridiculous to say? She knew Suletta for such a comparatively short time before Quiet Zero compared to now. She ought to know better than to think like that; to think that Suletta could be anyone other than herself.
But there was a kernel of truth to it. She knew how wrong it was to think that - to imagine or dream that she could have her be whole again.
She wasn’t some innocent wife, who’d waved goodbye at the dock and prayed every day for her beloved to return. She had just as much reason to blame herself for what happened as Prospera or her father did.
To wish that she could take any of that back was utterly selfish.
And she could only bla-
And she had to stop .
She couldn’t blame herself. Suletta didn’t blame her - no one did, or at least that’s what they told her.
With a sigh, Miorine sat back, perched on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap. Suletta didn’t say anything - she just sipped her tea, watching as Miorine did her breathing routine.
Breathing. Deep breaths, in and out. As many as it took before she could calm down or distract herself from whatever train of thought she’d been following.
She’d tried other techniques, but this worked the best for her. It had been a suggestion from one of Suletta’s remedial therapists a few years ago, after a particularly difficult session.
It was similar to meditation, or so she’d been told. It certainly tended to make her lose track of time; she wasn’t sure how long it took this time, but the clatter of the teapot lid and the subtle feeling of the weight next to her shifting with her wife’s movement broke her out of it.
Suletta had finished her tea, and was apparently trying - with some difficulty - to pour herself some more.
“Here - let me.”
Perhaps it was because it had been on her mind, but seeing Suletta smile and nod as she handed back the teapot was just… wonderful. Even after spilling it before, Suletta still trusted her.
Apparently there was nothing she could do that would break that trust. Miorine wasn’t sure if she deserved that, but she’d cherish it regardless.
This time she did it correctly. She filled the mug again without making even more of a mess. She handed it back to her wife with a smile, ignoring how cold her fingers felt when they brushed against hers.
“Feeling better?” Suletta’s voice was weak - but it did have that little hint of cheek to it that told Miorine she was being teased.
Suletta was like that. She wasn’t someone who shied away from what happened to her - but she didn’t want it to consume every interaction she had. She hadn’t been fighting her way through recovery for that. So when she saw an opportunity to change the subject - to deflect everyone’s focus away from herself - she tended to take it.
It wasn’t wrong , so to speak. Miorine had learnt how to handle it; they didn’t get into arguments about it anymore, with Miorine having to raise her voice to get Suletta to understand that ‘yes, she is important’ . Now she knew she could humour Suletta’s diversions. Knew that talking about herself wasn’t so bad either. Knew that when it truly mattered, Suletta would listen to her.
“Mmm…”
Still, she didn’t really know what to say. Wouldn’t it be wrong to bring this up when her wife is bedridden? It was the past. They couldn’t change it, and hearing again that she wished for it to change all the same wouldn’t lift Suletta’s or her own mood.
“Thinking about me again?” Unfortunately, for such a big, giant idiot, Suletta had a terrible knack for being perceptive when it came to Miorine.
The way Miorine’s expression sank was a clear giveaway.
“Mio…”
“It’s fine. And… yes. Sorry.” She bit her lip, running a hand through that silver-white hair and pulling at it - not too hard, just enough to feel it.
The mug was set back down, half full. It still steamed slowly, water vapour wafting back and forth in the little eddies that their movements left behind in the air. Miorine didn’t retreat as Suletta’s hand found its way to her, and she released her grip to take it in both hands a moment later.
“I’ll get better.”
Miorine couldn’t help but smile. Hopelessly optimistic - and probably, in spite of everything, right . She knew her wife meant that statement in every way it could possibly be interpreted. That was Suletta to a T.
“I know you will, dummy.”