Work Text:
It had been a long day at work. Too long. Far, far too long. One would think that city hall would actually calm the hell down for once after all the planning done to run a successful event, a festival no less. A pizza party! Drinks! Celebrations! But no, the people working at city hall had been working far too hard shoving their heads squarely up their asses that one Carol Holiday was unable to get even a moment's fucking rest after that ordeal. No. On top of her only remaining daughter getting involved with an unkempt thug, said thug manhandling December's guitar like she owned it, AND her husband's condition getting even worse, she had to deal with all of this nonsense.
Well at least it's done and over with. A week's work done in a day, Holiday Ninja Style. She chuckles proudly to herself on the way home for that one. For all of her shortcomings in the past few years (admittedly not having as much time for Noelle as she would like), she could at least bask in the immaculate safety of the night she had cultivated, and hometown's rather beautiful nighttime streets. The new lamp-posts were definitely a good choice. Very gothic. Classy, even. Gave everything a vibe you might find in an old movie. And with the autumn leaves falling, it makes for a very scenic walk home.
Home. The one thing she could always count on. Can always count on. She stands in front of the front door, staring up at the omnipresent timeless christmas decorations, and lets out a content sigh. No matter how bad things get, she can at least always be comforted by this one reminder of how things ought to be. But of course, the lights are off inside. It's late, after all. Noelle is probably asleep, she thinks to herself. She opens the door gently.
The TV is on, playing some kind of obscene direct-to-TV monster movie. Someone sitting on the couch. The telltale silhouette of antlers tells her who, immediately. She groans at the enormous waste of electricity and approaches to scold her for staying up again, but then the presence of another assaults her vision. She grimaces, rolling her eyes at the audacity of this girl to invite someone over after what happened, knowing damn well what---
It's her. When she rounds the corner ready to pounce, she notices that it's Susie. She stops for a moment, mind wracked with a seething rage mixed with disappointment at the mere presence of this thing that Noelle insisted on inviting into her house. She marches forward, fists balled up to the point that if she had human nails, they would be digging into her palm and drawing blood right now. But then, she stops. Stops when she blinks.
Because there, in the twilight of her vision that lasts for only a brief instant, she sees something. The two are...fast asleep. Leaning against each other. Noelle's head resting on Susie's shoulder, mouth just slightly open, arms wrapped around her as best as they can. Slacking. Latched to Susie's arm like it's a stuffed animal. And Susie's head leaning against Noelle's right between those antlers, just enough to rest on them but not drag her anywhere. Shoes taken off, curled up surprisingly defensively onto the couch, yet still relaxed. Despite being fast asleep and letting out a deep snore every now and then, she's still firmly gripping Noelle, almost protectively. Like she could fight off anything that might hurt her, in her sleep.
And all Carol can see is her lost daughter. She could always find them here. When neither of them were in their rooms, she could always find them down here, curled up together just like this. She looks back at the TV. Of course. It was always on some annoying looping DVD menu for a horror flick, a christmas movie, the hallmark channel, or god forbid one of December's terribly violent favorites. And here, the same thing. Just something to fill the noise, expel the dark in a way, for a time.
She looks back at them and sees that ghost of the past again. Noelle moves faintly, nuzzling into Susie's December's neck, not a sound to be made. Holding on tighter as if she's having a nightmare that she needs saving from. She can't help but see that small, defenseless fawn again, see her prying at her sister's legs for safety against every little thing that made her cry, for attention, for love. Just for someone or something to hold onto. And a small light of understanding gleams in the back of Carol's mind that suddenly makes all of her misgivings look ignorant in hindsight.
Her expression quickly begins to soften as the tightly wound rage vanishes. The stress from work leaves her. All replaced by a lingering sense of guilt. She relaxes her hands and passes by the couch, heading upstairs. She enters December's room and stares down at her bed. They had always used this blanket in particular. Her favorite one, and by extension Noelle's. They always brought it down with them, to shield them from AC, even though the temperature is perfectly suitable. But, despite her reservations, despite her better judgement, her mind lingers on that nagging guilt. That understanding of what Noelle must be feeling. That same feeling that Carol had been trying to ignore for a long time, and failing miserably at.
So, with a deep breathe, she takes the blanket and wraps it up, taking it back downstairs where she carefully, nostalgically drapes it over the two sleeping angels. She tucks it in gently, then takes a step back. And there it is again, that image. That long forgotten memory. She crosses her arms, not sternly, but grasping at each other desperately, her grip tight and unsure of itself. But just as quickly, she shakes her head of the vision and throws her arms down with another sigh. She looks towards the kitchen door, then at the TV, contemplating. Seconds later, she makes her decision. She picks up the remote and turns it off. She goes into the kitchen, flipping the light on, and going straight for the icebox. She opens a bottle of wine, not caring to pay attention to which one she picked up, and pours a glass to enjoy in the solitary dimness of an almost empty home. She dares not to offer any apologies, knowing it wouldn't accept them. That this home wouldn't forgive or forget.
The morning after, Noelle wakes up first. Peacefully, for the first time in a long time. Of course she would be the first, she was always early to everything. She nuzzles up to Susie consciously, pulling her in more closely, smiling to herself and pulling the...blanket...up.
She startles suddenly, but not too much. Just enough to become alert. This wakes Susie up, too, who groggily yawns in her face. But Noelle doesn't pay attention, shockingly. She's too busy being shocked, herself. She looks down a the blanket, wondering how it got, then notices, "...Oh my god..." She whisper-yells, "Susie! We need to get up! This is bad! Really bad!"
"Huh? What?" Susie looks around, stretching with the worst bedhead ever seen, "What's going on?"
"Look! Susie!" She gestures wildly around, as if that makes it obvious.
But for Susie, it actually does. She shoots up, "It's morning!? Did we seriously...?"
Noelle gestures down to the blanket, "It's not just that, look!"
"Uh... I don't..." Susie looks at it in confusion.
"It's Dess' blanket! We need to put it back before mom sees! Just... When did this...!? Did we...!?"
"I didn't grab a blanket." Susie states flatly.
"Then how...?" Noelle starts to question, only for Carol to interrupt their panic session.
"Good morning, Noelle."
Noelle's blood runs almost as cold as Susie's in that moment as she slowly turns around like a rusty crane, wearing the fake smile she usually does when she gets stressed out, "O-Oh! Hi! Mom! Good, uh, morning!" She grips the blanket on instinct like her life depends on it. Actually, it might this time.
Susie tries to jump in to defend her, "Okay, wait, hold on, look. It's my fault, I... I just..."
"No, it's mine! I invited her, I... I don't know how this got here, I didn't...!" Noelle jumps back in to counter-cover.
"I didn't touch it either!" Susie adds. "I'll leave, just... Just don't..."
"Mom, please, she didn't... We just..." Noelle starts to shrink down again, tears forming in her eyes as the words her mother said the other day come back to her.
"Noelle." Carol commands.
Noelle braces for impact, entire body stiffening up on reflex. She practically stops breathing with sheer anticipation, like a deer in a crosshair.
"How many times do I have to tell you..."
Susie looks away, grabbing at her arm. Blaming herself again.
"To stop sleeping on the couch?" Carol finally says with absolutely no fanfare.
The two look up at her with utter shocked confusion. Noelle looks like she's about to say, "What?" but gets cut off.
"You left the television on again. Do you have any idea how much electricity that wastes? And your back is going to kill you later in life if you keep that habit up. You have a bed, use it." She turns around and proceeds into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Noelle and Susie stare at each other, still dumbstruck. They look at the blanket, gesture to each other about what to do with it, and Susie ultimately asks, "Uh... Should I go?"
Noelle hesitantly nods, "Yeah, that's... probably for the best. I'll meet you at school."
Susie nods and smiles, but lingers there for a moment as if expecting something. And something, Noelle gives. A quick peck on the cheek, followed by a giggle now that she actually feels safe. Susie gets on her way, gently closing the front door. Noelle rushes upstairs and puts the blanket back where it belongs, hoping her mom didn't notice whose it was. Then, with a sigh of relief, she goes back downstairs and spies her mother in the kitchen, just settling down and peacefully eating. No strained look, no sudden movements, not even a cigarette or a glass of wine anywhere in sight. She slips in quietly, lingering by the table for a moment until Carol looks up at her.
They share a silent moment. Noelle reaches down and, for the first time since Rudy became ill, she gives her a hug. Nothing forced. A little awkward, but still, a hug. She runs away immediately after to get ready for the day. Carol, meanwhile, is left just vaguely without words. She stops eating for a moment, pausing just to think about that. And then resumes, like nothing happened, yet with a small and proud smile on her face.
In fact, she decides then and there that there would be a pizza party today. Two slices per person.