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A weak candle dripped away, barely bright enough to illuminate the papers. Misako could relate to that feeling— waiting to burn down, and go out.
Her eyes refused to look away.
She put the pen down, finally coming to terms with her inability to work longer. This was supposed to be her big break. Just her, making a difference. But no, the Explorers Club waltzed all over the delicate site, leaving her scraps to base her report on.
Lloyd sighed loudly in his sleep. The pretense to him awaking.
"Me too, my darling." She cradled him, gently pressing against her chest. He was still so tiny, so unknown to himself and the world around him. Misako herself still feared any harm she might do to him. She never wanted to.
His round cheeks glowed in the light, nose scrunched from his dream. Misako wondered if Garmadon had been like this, too, once.
'I could ask', but there was no merit behind the thought. There was a high change he wouldn't answer.
The man she loved wanted only two things, recently: To forget every bit of his past, and to spend more time with his son.
The reality of how well he was working on the second want could be heard by the silence in the house.
Misako held Lloyd closer, trying to make up for Garmadon's absence. When they had moved in together, they were complementary. Completing. Between the chores and occasional work, days were peaceful, comfortable, quiet. Now it was also quiet, but all else that remained was dread. That which pressed against her skull and made her acutely aware of the dust.
Maybe it was just a lie they had told themselves, but Misako had to believe she wouldn’t go so low for most anyone.
In a way, though, this stillness was soothing. She cherished it as much as she could, feeling the storm somewhere far off, approaching. Already hearing the rain, dropping heavy on the gravel path outside. Dragging themselves along. Tired, as if they hadn't even wanted to come here. But they had to.
Twilight sun shone through the door— Misako expected to hear the rain showers, but, nothing. Only labored breathing. In the mirror directly in front of her, she saw the source:
A man, around her age, with brown hair that should’ve been soft and fluffy. A dark gi, torn at a blackened shoulder, ripped straps hanging about like flailed meat. Dark spots. Red all over, desperately dripping to the floor. One hand gripping a battered staff, the other bracing against the frame of the entrance. Three arrows loomed directly behind him, like a mockery. His right eye glowed red, looked up, into hers. There was only one—
"Garmadon?" She whispered, unbelieving at first. Not willing to turn around, in case this really was just some apparition like she wanted to convince herself of.
It seemed like he wanted to make a motion to answer, but his throat stocked. So did his foot as he lifted a leg to step inside fully. Misako watched him topple and hit the floor, hard, with both knees, shoulders rising and falling like living monsters.
"Garmadon!" As quickly as she could manage, she put Lloyd back into his bed, his protests ringing in her ears. Or maybe that was the panic that held her still. She didn't know. It was like all knowledge about anything ever left her mind, and left her only a mess of wide eyes and no air.
"What—" Misako tried, examining her husband, the arrows lodged in his flesh looking unreal. Stage props. "What happened?!"
A hand pushed hers away from his shoulder. His fingers were icy, the texture of wet dirt.
With a stifled groan, Garmadon propped himself up, pushing until he was stood. Hunched in pain, he shuffled along, somewhere to their kitchen. Trying to open cabinets. Failing.
Misako stared at where faint blood now streaked her wrist, then him, before realizing that she needed to get a grip. A deep breath rattled her rib cage, but helped. Lloyd had started crying louder, apparently sensing the general distress around him. She wanted to wrap him up and put him somewhere where he couldn't see whatever was going to happen next, but there wasn't quite time for that.
"Garmadon." He had a palm pressed to his side, hissing with every breath. She tried moving him a bit so she could reach all their medical stuff on the top shelf. "Let me—"
The man whipped at her, sharp teeth snarled. For a moment, Misako thought he might be rabid.
But, no. This was just her husband. Just Garmadon. As always.
Not entertaining his demeanor, she made sure that he could see and feel her hands. So he knew she wouldn't hurt him. Yes, it felt like tangling with a lion, but what was there to be done? If Misako had already built up this skill, she might as well use it. Step by step, she guided him backwards, to the other side of the room, down onto one of their table pillows.
She tried to be firm, yet reassuring. To look into his eyes and remember this was the person she loved and would try to love as long as she could. "Let me help."
Garmadon's gaze was steady, even if a bit unfocused. One red, corruption creeping up around it and turning the sclera black, too. One green, as it always had been. Mouth gaping open and closed, before he settled on a tight, thin line. He looked away first.
This was as good of a go ahead as she’d get.
Their baby's sniffling and sobbing accompanied her the entire way to the cabinet and back. It almost blended into the background, steady in its volume. Almost.
Misako didn’t waste time getting to work. She said she would help, and she was gonna keep that promise. Every dabble of the alcohol infused cloth made the man hiss again, sometimes grabbing and pushing at her before thinking better of it. By the time every arrow was out, his hand was wrung tightly into her sleeve. His forced breaths rattled down her neck, snaked along her spine.
As she separated the two of them, she planted a wary kiss on his temple, not even sure if he'd feel it.
"Okay," Her voice sounded like a stranger's. Old. "Now, show me your hands."
Garmadon didn't protest, but didn't really help either.
"Please."
When his gaze fell onto her, it was empty and unfeeling for a good few seconds. Finally, they cleared, and he held up the bruised and marred messes that were supposed to be fingers, palms and wrists.
She worked systematically, the motions hypnotic. The rush of adrenaline fading steadily. Through that she finally noticed— when had it become so dark outside? Within their house, too? Every drip of sweat was a piece of ice, the smell of blood almost overwhelming. She hadn't even realized how much of it had clung to her now loose hair and cream white shirt. One of her favorites, too.
Daring to sigh loudly, it was time to do what she was ready for the least. "What happened?"
The seconds ticked by, and so did the time that she would still have left where she was allowed to keep him here. To keep him, and to try and get answers.
This wasn't the first time he'd returned like this, recently. Actually, this was fairly common of a condition for a home coming, which were getting further and further apart, with less time spent within these walls. At times, Misako felt like she should be chaining him up just to have a single normal conversation. But that would be cruel. It would be betraying both of their natures; both their needs to be outside, be free. The only difference was that Garmadon had been willing to make the first step out the door, leaving Misako entirely alone with their child almost always.
And every time he came back, there was some new scar, new bruise, new wound. Those which he refused to have looked at properly. Saying he would be fine, letting Misako smack a band-aid on him after she "talked enough", and promptly departing. Over and over.
It was infuriating. She just wanted one normal dinner again.
"You look like you've been in the sewers. Garmadon," Misako began again, trying not to let her desperation show, but failing with every letter falling from her lips, "Please, just tell me. I don't care what it was, I just want to know. Please, I just want to…"
He wasn't looking at her, catatonic eyes fixed on one of the window shutters, yet completely unseeing. She was almost done with the bandages. After that, how much longer would he stay?
"Are you even listening?" There was no point anymore in pretending she wasn't mad.
Her veins were on fire, all of her irritated that he could imagine he was allowed to treat her in this way.
"Garmadon!"
She did not deserve that.
"Answer me, damn it!"
Not when she had tried so hard, a plate set out at every meal. Doing work on the porch just in case he came back.
"If you don't—"
It wasn't fair to Lloyd. To her.
"—I'll leave."
The finality of what she had just said hit the air like the clatter of a sword. She hadn't even considered her words until that moment, speaking more truthfully than she had in weeks, perhaps months. An idea that had been festering, growing, been pushed away in favor of hope.
Garmadon's face changed ever so slightly, pointed ears shifting. He could tell she was being serious, that it wasn't some empty threat. No, a promise.
She felt resolute in a way she hadn't for a long time. "If you can go and come however you please, so can I. And Lloyd would come with me, because I am the only one ever taking care of him."
That seemed to do it.
"What?" His voice was low, and rough, completely different from what she remembered. Had it really been that long already? Could so much more time have passed than she'd imagined?
"I can't stay here, alone. Waiting, always waiting and never knowing anything." Both her hands gripped her trousers, those now flecked with dark spots. This was her chance. "I can't pretend it doesn't suffocate me."
It was like the gears were turning for the first time in a good while. His eyes sparked, though she couldn't tell from what— slow rage or coming tears.
"So just… please. Tell me something. Anything." Misako felt her face turn red from all this pleading, the way she had to humiliate herself just for a chance. Or maybe she was on the verge of crying, too.
He stayed still. So still, in fact, that if he wasn't blinking, she would have thought him a statue.
"Nothing." His eyelids lowered, extinguishing the flicker of light they had contained. "What happened? Nothing at all."
"And this is supposed to be "Nothing?!" Reaching for one of his hands and holding it up, scraps now enveloped by bandages, her rage was ever so fading. She just wanted to lay down and sleep.
Garmadon looked from her to the far smaller hand grasping him, and said nothing.
At least move, She begged silently, By your father, slap me if you want. Anything…
Nothing.
Misako took this as just as much of an answer as anything else. Their baby, still full of actual emotion, was worth more of her effort.
Giving herself a breather by focusing on Lloyd, she kept trying to think on how she may have gotten to this point, while trying not to think about it at all. Was this her choice or her destiny? A headache was starting to form in her temples, a sign of actual rain coming soon.
Turning to the tiny blond angel laying in her arms, Misako wiped a strand from his cheek that was clearly bothering him in what was bordering on sleep again. Such were the troubles of a baby.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered, resolution lodging itself into her with every word, “Not much longer, my son. Maybe your father can be kinder once we're gone."
And maybe that's when she could accept that, in a way, she always knew it would come to this.