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Luz had always hated thunderstorms.
It kept her up: the low rumble of thunder, the sudden and booming flash of the light of lightning. The rain hit the tiles of the roof so hard. In the Isles, it stung, leaving a sizzling sound and sensation.
Ever since the Day of Unity, since all the battles began, it made Luz remember things she didn’t want to.
The slamming of a head against the wall. The clank of the door shutting, locking her out from Eda, leaving Eda to die. The full, echoing thud of Belos’ staff against the hard ground. The freshly sickening snap of skull and bone under a foot—
She sat up, taking the covers with her. There was another round of rumbling thunder. Then lightning. A brief flash filled her bedroom.
She pressed a hand to her chest, to her heart. It was beating rapidly, blood pulsing throughout her body. She felt alive, like she was right back to fighting for her life. She pressed the other hand to her head.
It hurt, head pounding. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, dampening her eyebrows. She wiped at it with the back of her head, letting out a delayed gasp. The covers fell back down, laying flat against her lap. She tried to maintain her breathing.
Willow had shown her that trick a long time ago, back in the Human Realm and she used to get bad dreams. She woke up screaming, and her friends had been right there with her.
She furrowed her eyebrows, straining to remember it all. What was it? Five in? Four in? Then four out?—
She was interrupted from her internal conversation as the bed dipped on the other side, sheets rustling. The covers shifted as Amity came to sit up too, knees to her chest. She rubbed at her eyes, hazy from sleep.
Luz glanced at her once, almost timidly. Did she wake her? She suddenly felt bad. Amity looked back. The exchange broke. Luz looked down.
Scooting an inch closer, Amity let out a soft sigh. She had seen this many times before. This was a weekly occurrence for them. “Can I touch you?” Was the first thing she asked.
Luz nodded limply, head hanging. Amity wrapped one arm around her slowly, the other going to turn on their bedside lamp. At the sudden cover of light, Luz’s chest rose and fell steadily. She felt a tiny bit more safe. Darkness had always left her feeling exposed.
Once the light was flickered on, Amity turned back to Luz. Luz could see the traces of tiredness and concern wrinkling her facial features. She held one hand onto Luz’s shoulders, running soothingly across her shoulder blades.
She opened her mouth to speak again, softly, not pushing. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
At first, Luz shook her head. Inside she still felt like a mess of panic, heartbeat still jumping at an alarming rate. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak, words a jumbled mess. Or worse: she would just choke up or start to cry.
Amity nodded. “Alright,” she whispered. “That’s okay. I’ll just sit with you, okay?”
Luz nodded again.
She ran her thumb over Luz’s dry knuckles. It was winter, the frigid air constantly biting at her skin. Amity always told her to put on lotion. Luz nearly laughed at the reminder.
It caught in her throat.
The nightmare still ran in her head. She pulled closer to Amity, head tucked under her chin. Amity just hummed softly, running a hand over Luz’s hand or through her curls. The motions were soothing. Amity murmured incoherent comforts and Luz rested her head against her chest, hearing the familiar rhythm of her heartbeat, the thump-thump of her bile sac.
Luz closed her eyes and felt as Amity’s soft hands cupped her face and ears. Nearing the end, Amity sucked in a breath and pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead.
She didn’t know how long they sat there, touching in silence, speaking the language of no words of all, but of physical touch. But it soothed Luz. Knowing she was here, and safe, always helped calm her.
Eventually, inevitably, they pulled apart. Luz opened her eyes and softly pulled her cheek away from Amity’s chest. Amity spread her arms, letting Luz sit up, but still kept one hand firmly planted on her shoulder, as if grounding her, keeping her from floating away.
Luz pulled away and sat criss-crossed on the bed. She shuffled to get comfortable, hands looking for something to do to distract her. She settled for fidgeting with her wedding ring.
The next thing she knew, Amity’s hand was on hers again, black painted nails keeping her hand still. When she looked back up, she met her wife’s amber eyes, dancing with worry. They practically glowed in the hazy, lucent yellow light of the bedroom.
She said everything that needed to be said just in one look.
Luz slouched, shoulders hanging. “It was the one about him again,” she said, almost a bit embarrassed.
She looked back down, using her other hand to run her fingers over the texture of the bedsheets, soft and flimsy under her still sweaty palms. She half expected her to tell her to get over it, to go back to sleep and start waking her for such stupid things.
Of course, Amity would never say that. She would hold Luz and comfort her as she cried. She would stay up with her, talking or just staying by her side. On the worst nights, she made herbal teas or recommended they watched a movie to get their minds off things. One time, Amity had dramatically re-enacted a scene from the first Azura book to distract Luz.
It had been over ten years since she had first met her and Luz fell in love with her a bit more each day.
Now, Amity wrapped her arms around Luz again and hugged her close to the press of her collarbones. Here, Luz could smell the scent of her shampoo and conditioner, like coconut and jasmine, feel the pulsing warmth of her body, and feel the slick silk of her fancy purple sleep shirt.
Luz stilled, not moving. She feared she would wrinkle it.
Limply, Amity pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into her ear. “But it’s over. You’re here, and you’re safe.”
Amity pulled back, caressing one cheek with her cupped hand. “And I’m here. As long as here, no one can hurt you. He sure can’t. He’s long gone.” She let out a snort like laugh, short and sweet. “Bon voyage.”
Luz let out a wet laugh from the back of her throat.
Amity smiled back. “He can’t hurt you,” she repeated. “He’s dead.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “I know.. I just..”
She lost her words, dying on the tip of her tongue.
Amity hummed. “I know. It’s still hard.” She looked down, rubbing her palms uncomfortably. “There’s no undoing the impact he left. It’s a big burden to carry.” She met Luz’s eyes, dipping her chin. “But you’re the strongest person I know, Luz.”
She ducked her head. “I couldn’t do it without you,” she admitted aloud.
“Me either,” Amity said, taking Luz’s hand again. “You know I’ll always be here, right?”
Luz nodded. Amity’s eyes glinted. “Good.” Another comfortable squeeze to her hand. “Anything else?”
Luz set to work chewing on the inside of her cheek. She found her words again. “I just.. worry.”
“I’m sure you do,” Amity replied. “You can’t really be a savior and then go back to normal and never worry about anything again. Not even years later.”
Luz blinked. Once, twice. “I’m.. im just so worried about her,” she said quietly. “I know he’s gone, and he can’t hurt her, but.. the thought of something happening to her..”
Amity’s grasp on her hands only tightened. Her eyes narrowed, a new look crossing her face. A fierce look of love and protectiveness. “Nothing is going to happen to her,” Amity said sharply. And Luz knew she meant it. “You know that, right? I’d rather die than let something hurt her.”
Those words left a shift in the air.
Luz swallowed, then nodded. Amity nodded right back. “Nothing is going to happen to her,” she echoed, as if assuring herself too. “She’s safe. We’re safe.” Amity pauses, sniffling. “We made it, Luz.”
Luz dipped her head. I know.
But yet her mind still raced, her heart still ran out of her chest, her palms still shaky and sweaty. There was still going to be worry and unsureness in her life, no matter what.
When she didn’t reply, Amity shifted. The bed softly creaked, bed frame protesting in its own way. She tilted her head. “Why don’t we go see her? To calm your nerves. She’s in the next room over. She’s sleeping peacefully.” She squeezed her hand again. “She’s safe.”
Luz nodded, feeling the prick of tears in her head. She didn’t want to cry. She let Amity take her by the hand and let her across the room. They were careful of the creaky floorboards, quiet as they moved down the small hall to the other bedroom across from theirs.
She let Amity go forward first, pushing open the closed door. She sent her a backwards glance and Luz stepped forward into the other room.
The room was dark, except for a small moon-shaped night light in the far corner. The floor was cold. In the middle, Luz’s eyes fell to the rectangular shape with the wooden bars.
And there she was. Her tiny daughter.
Amity looked down at her once, then back at Luz. A small, half smile ghosted on her lips. “See? She’s fine.”
Luz forced herself to take a deep breath, stepping forward until she was standing directly in front of the crib, hands gripping the top of the railing. Her eyes traced down the small body of her sleeping daughter.
Ellie was a small thing. She was a few months old, learning to sleep through the night by now, as she was now. Her small eyelashes fluttered, small fists lying on either side of her.
The sight comforted her more than she meant to admit.
The nightmares had gotten better after college and marrying Amity. She felt safe in their new house, sleeping next to her wife every night. They fell into routine with their jobs and seeing their friends and family. Everyone was happy, learning to heal. And, so, the nightmares got better.
And then they found out Amity was pregnant.
She had been so excited. They had tried for months, waiting for the spell to work. With her being human, they didn’t know how it would quite turn out. For a while, they had been disappointed by a bunch of negative tests.
Until, one day, it was positive.
That night was a blur of tears and excited screaming, Luz throwing Amity into a hug so hard they nearly fell over. And, later, as they slept, Luz’s arms around her wife’s waist, it felt real. It was so exciting. A baby. Their baby.
Then it sank in. A baby. A little thing, so small and helpless, dependent entirely on them.
Something is so easy to hurt.
Luz let her eyes run over her small, still body again. She could make out her features in the faint light from the hall light and now opened door. Her warm brown skin, small dark curls and freckles so tiny you had to squint to see.
“She’s okay,” Amity repeated, as if reading her thoughts. She wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her wife in as they gazed down at their daughter, the thing they loved the most in the whole world. “She sleeps like a rock.” She felt a quick kiss pressed to the back of her neck. She snickered softly. “Just like her mom.”
Luz turned her head, nearly inhaling a strand of Amity’s hair. “I do not.”
“Oh, I just happen to always be the one to hear her crying at night?”
“You’re just overprotective,” Luz teased back.
Amity affectionately shook her head and nestled her head onto Luz’s open and inviting shoulder. They both gazed down at their infant daughter with all the love in the world, their perfect creation.
As if on clue, her tiny, slightly pointed ear, twitched, doing a small flip-flop. She must have heard her mothers’ hushed voices.
Luz nearly folded over in cuteness. From the first time she held her, she knew this wrinkled, little newborn was the most amazing, and Titandamn cutest, thing she had ever held, will ever hold, to be exact.
From beside her, Amity let out a light coo. “Oh, go back to sleep, darling.” She gazed up at Luz, eyes twinkling. “Mama is just being silly.”
Luz silently rolled her eyes, and pulled her wife closer. The two most important people in her life, all in one room. Her family.
She was so lucky.
She could feel the steady thump thump of her wife’s heart. She let out a deep breath. For every beat, her own heart seemed to sing.
I love you.
A hand tightened around her waist. I know.
Finally, Amity broke the trance. Her head was still on Luz’s shoulder, her voice so light it could simply float away. “We’re fine,” she repeated, and Luz believed it. “We made it.”
—
“No, we’re not naming our baby after Gus,” Luz repeated. “No matter how much he asks.”
From across the room, Amity let out a laugh. “You’ll have to be the one to break the news to him then.”
They were sitting in the unfinished nursery upstairs, discussing possible names. Amity sat in the wooden rocking chair, an open book on her lap.
“Ah, I know.” Luz crossed the room and pressed a quick and light kiss to her wife’s lips. “We’re so harsh.”
“Better do it sooner than later,” Amity quipped on.
Luz threw her head back and groaned playfully. “Do I have to?”
Amity let out a fake, offended gasp. She slapped Luz lightly on the upper arm. “Luz Noceda,” she scolded. “You can’t possibly mean you want your pregnant wife to do it for you.”
Luz rolled her head back, smiling. “What? Never.”
Amity rolled her eyes and went back to reading the book on her lap. Luz squinted down at the text. “Whatcha reading there?”
“A book your mom gave me,” Amity said, transfixed on whatever she was reading, nose wrinkled. “Spanish baby names.”
Luz nodded. Amity went back to reading. Until, a minute later, she held the book up, looking at it. “Hey,” she said. “How does Eliana sound?”
Luz tilted her head. “Eliana,” she said, testing the word on her tongue.
Amity nodded, starting to smile. “Or Ellie for short,” she offered. “It means bright.” She pressed one hand to her stomach, the other still holding the book. “Or light.”
Luz started to smile too. “Ellie. I like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Luz replied. She shifted, leaning over to place one hand over her wife’s. “Ellie. Huh.”
Amity giggled, stacking another hand on top of Luz’s, book abandoned on the back of the chair.
Ellie, Luz repeated in the back of her head. Our little light.