Work Text:
Normally, the hospital isn't open to visitors past midnight due to staffing concerns. When you're the mayor, however, problems like "operating hours" aren't a concern to you. So, in the hours preceding dawn, Carol was let in with nary a fight. Not a word had to be spoken, merely open the leftmost door and leave her be. Don't even bother turning the lights on.
After the door to her husband's room was shut and she was certain the large-mouthed attendant was back at their desk, Carol scans over the cavalcade of religious idols and get-well-soon gifts within. They've remained the same, unmoving, not unlike everything else in this town. The same donations from the church, the same cards signed by most of the Dreemurrs, that same damn dome of flowers. They make for a decorative room, but have proven wholly ineffective, as, obviously, her husband remains destitute in his hospital bed. As is tradition, Rudy is the last thing she lays her eyes on when she makes these rare, yet still routine visits.
Her teeth clench behind closed lips, a swirl of anger and disappointment kindling a fire in her frozen heart. As if upset by the various effigies' failure to miraculously cure her husband, she shakes her head, then loosens her jaw. There are more important things to tend to than praying something changed, she thinks.
Quietly, she grabs the chair in the left corner of the room, going as far to carry it to the left side of Rudy's bed. Though the flowers, in their beauty, continue to fail their job, she neglects sitting next to them. Maybe her presence would negate whatever they could be doing. Whatever Asgore thinks is helpful.
Like he knows anything about fixing broken people.
Once more, she has to shake her head, dispelling such a notion before setting her chair down. She sits without a desk in front of her for what feels like the first time in ages, the festival preparations having totally sapped what little energy remains in her aging body. Of course that's how that goes, the only notable changes in this town are ones that wholly inconvenience you. Carol takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, trying to temper the frigid flames in her mind. She holds it for a second before exhaling, opening her eyes to stare at the love of her life.
He's been asleep since she entered, per both the doctor's orders and a normal circadian rhythm. Carol has nary a clue what condition is afflicting him, but whatever it is, it's stripping the once bright and witty man of his color. What was once thick fur and hair is now matted and thin, aging the man twice the speed. What were once muscular arms have now thinned to sickly appendages, barely able to hold a cup of juice at the church without shaking. Even the velvet on his antlers show patches. A shell of himself, through and through.
No longer is Rudy Holiday the man that took a shot on that ice-cold, strange lass on campus, all because he was an indescribable mix of mortified and infatuated. No more can Rudy Holiday bring his newly anointed girlfriend with an eccentric sword collection to ragers at the Dreemurr's college house, dancing and hollering until the cows come home. Never again can this father of two lift his daughters in his arms, scream his lungs out at their baseball games, or applaud for their singing in the church choir. A jubilant man will never get to walk his lone daughter down the aisle, blessing a matrimony his wife may disapprove of.
That is the bane of nostalgia, Carol believes. It can twist your heart into wanting to return to simpler, easier times. It can make you bemoan the present and fear the future. That awful mourning tune it plays, grieving what was and sobbing over what can no longer be. She believes herself to be a stronger person, one whose tears have long since run dry, but nostalgia can work the mind in mysterious ways. Carol blinks, realizing she'd been staring straight ahead at Rudy, motionless herself as she was lost in thought. That's why her eyes were watering, that's the only way that makes sense.
Despite being the mayor and ruling this podunk town with an iron fist, every time Carol steps into this room, she remembers what it's like to feel utterly powerless. To see a beloved family member wither away and have no way to save them. Or, so she once thought. If she's to have power, it's going to be complete, utter control. It doesn't matter what sacrifices must be made, she will do everything she can to assure her family is together again. No longer will the Holidays be the victim of a horrid tragedy that shook the town to its core, nor will they be on deck for a second. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter how, they will reunite and move along life together as they always had been. As they always should be.
Carol Holiday will retire a renowned politician, retreating with her beloved Rudolph to the coasts to live out the rest of their days. December will no longer be a fleeting memory and instead, a legend behind the guitar, even if it means having to collaborate with that total wet wipe Dreemurr boy. Noelle will stay bright and kind, known as the altruistic girl who will extend a hand to even the most annoying of bluebirds.
The mayor will make sure of it.
Carol's phone buzzes in her pocket, snapping her out of her long-winded trance. She wastes no time in checking the sender. Ah, the last of the Dreemurrs to cross her mind, the human adopted from who-knows where. That is her cue to leave and get back to work, sleep be damned. She does her entry routine in reverse, returning the chair to its initial position in the right corner of the room. When she gets to the door, she halts. Her greed gets to her, as she wastes precious seconds to look at Rudy for what could always be the last time. Asleep and bedridden, he still manages to smile. A true light in the dark of reality, shining in the dimly lit hospital room. Her lips quiver, the tune of nostalgia strumming its chord once again. That smile that once made her heart flutter can't die, it won't.
She will make sure of it.
"Woah, honey, didn't think ya'd beat the secret boss your first try!" Rudy exclaims with a chuckle, adjusting to sit fully upright. The sun shines brightly through the hospital windows, providing some much needed warmth in a suddenly chilled room.
"Dad, I'm not that bad at these games!" Noelle replies lightheartedly, putting a hand over her mouth as she begins to giggle.
"Hey, nothin' against you, those fights are meant to kick your ass," he continues, patting Noelle on the back, "those were the words of a proud dad, y'know. Where'd you get the idea to defend and only use Rude Breaker like that?"
"Uhhh, it just seemed right?" Noelle murmurs, eyes darting from the floor, to the ceiling, then to her pop's smile. He's teeming from cheek to cheek, illuminated with a rare vigor. Noelle relaxes herself, slouching forward as she sits on the edge of the hospital bed. "You seem, really energetic today Dad, are you alright?"
"Am I alright? Of course I am!" he retorts, crossing his arms, a blush forming on his paled face. "Your mother swung by today, how could I not be?"
"She was? Can I ask... what'd you two do?"
"A whole lotta nothin', I was dead asleep, but..." Rudy says, trailing off towards the end. He smiles warmly, then shakes his head. "Your mother loves to lay that peppermint perfume on thick, it stuck around probably long after she was gone."