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FFVI - Locke/Terra
Title: Lullaby
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters: Locke/Terra
Length: 824 words
Summary: Some time after the game, on an extended visit to Mobliz, Locke watches Terra with her children.
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for 30_hugs. Can tie in with Good Enough.
****
He'd borrowed her desk to write a letter, and as he fidgeted over it, he'd opened one of the desk drawers and seen the sketch he'd sent her once - the two of them, bent over a book together, and another just of him. He'd begged the page from Relm later, after it was drawn, when Terra wasn't around; when he'd sent her this part, he'd kept the half with the drawing of Terra. Sending the half page had seemed like a pretty transparent gesture at the time, like cutting a sixpence in half as he'd done with Rachel years before, or matching rings as they'd done after that, but maybe she didn't even remember what was on the rest of the sheet.
He closed the drawer hastily when he heard a noise in the hall - always nosy, he'd developed an instinct to hide it early on - but the light footsteps passed by without stopping. One of the children, he guessed. He finished the letter, noticing how quiet the house had grown, folded it, and returned to the drawer to search in vain for sealing wax. He got up, crossed the hall to the room some of the kids refused to call a nursery - "It makes it sound like we're babies" seemed to be the refrain - and hesitated at the doorway.
The door itself was slightly ajar, and he heard a soft voice, Terra's, singing some wordless song. She was sitting at an angle to him, a child leaning against her side, another in the bed she was sitting on, and one dozing with a head on her knee. As he watched, she shook the shoulder of the boy at her feet, who rose and stumbled out of his line of sight. Locke heard the creak of a bed, but never took his eyes off her face. The delicate features lit softly by the oil lamp, she looked more peaceful and contented than he'd ever expected to see her, though not more than he'd hoped.
He watched as she stood, hugged the sleepy girl at her side and guided her to bed, tucked her in, the song pausing briefly as she kissed her daughter good night. He heard her take up the lullaby again, humming it now, lowering in volume as she took up the lamp and left the room; his grandmother, he thought, used to do something similar when coaxing him to sleep, and he'd always pretended to be more fully asleep than he was, and he'd always resisted long enough to hear her shut the door, as softly as she could, before he truly dropped off. He stepped away from the door as Terra shut it behind her, almost inaudibly, and only then did he clear his throat softly.
She jumped, but didn't drop the lamp or make a sound. "I didn't know you were there!" she whispered. "I think I'd forgotten you hadn't left."
"Sorry I startled you," he said, his voice low but still louder than he'd meant, and lowered his voice to a whisper as he continued. "I was just watching you earlier."
She blushed. "I'm sorry you had to hear my singing voice."
"No, it was... beautiful. I didn't recognize the song, though."
She touched his arm to steer him down the hall, and replied, just above a whisper, "No one does. I seem to know the tune but not the words - I used to hum it to myself earlier. The na-na sounds I just added later because I got tired of humming."
"Maybe it's just something you remember from way back," he said, "something your mother used to sing when you were a baby, or an Esper song," and the way she smiled at him when he said it made him forget the letter and the thread of the song and his room waiting back at the inn.
"I hope it is," she said, and then looked down as if she was embarrassed. "I don't know. I... should let you go, I guess, it's getting late."
"Not that bad," he said, with a shrug she probably wouldn't notice. "It's not like I have to get up any particular time. But I guess you do - I'm sorry, I should go."
"Oh, that wasn't what I meant! I wouldn't go to bed right away anyhow. I just didn't want to keep you if you wanted to get back. Did you get a chance to finish your letter?"
He blinked, remembering. "Yeah. I think you're out of wax, though."
"I know," she said, grimacing. "I meant to bring up some more - I even wrote myself a note and I still forgot until you mentioned it. Come down to the store with me?" She caught his wrist and led the way; not that she needed to drag him, but he wouldn't object. It didn't take much effort to shift that to holding her hand.
****
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters: Locke/Terra
Length: 824 words
Summary: Some time after the game, on an extended visit to Mobliz, Locke watches Terra with her children.
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for 30_hugs. Can tie in with Good Enough.
****
He'd borrowed her desk to write a letter, and as he fidgeted over it, he'd opened one of the desk drawers and seen the sketch he'd sent her once - the two of them, bent over a book together, and another just of him. He'd begged the page from Relm later, after it was drawn, when Terra wasn't around; when he'd sent her this part, he'd kept the half with the drawing of Terra. Sending the half page had seemed like a pretty transparent gesture at the time, like cutting a sixpence in half as he'd done with Rachel years before, or matching rings as they'd done after that, but maybe she didn't even remember what was on the rest of the sheet.
He closed the drawer hastily when he heard a noise in the hall - always nosy, he'd developed an instinct to hide it early on - but the light footsteps passed by without stopping. One of the children, he guessed. He finished the letter, noticing how quiet the house had grown, folded it, and returned to the drawer to search in vain for sealing wax. He got up, crossed the hall to the room some of the kids refused to call a nursery - "It makes it sound like we're babies" seemed to be the refrain - and hesitated at the doorway.
The door itself was slightly ajar, and he heard a soft voice, Terra's, singing some wordless song. She was sitting at an angle to him, a child leaning against her side, another in the bed she was sitting on, and one dozing with a head on her knee. As he watched, she shook the shoulder of the boy at her feet, who rose and stumbled out of his line of sight. Locke heard the creak of a bed, but never took his eyes off her face. The delicate features lit softly by the oil lamp, she looked more peaceful and contented than he'd ever expected to see her, though not more than he'd hoped.
He watched as she stood, hugged the sleepy girl at her side and guided her to bed, tucked her in, the song pausing briefly as she kissed her daughter good night. He heard her take up the lullaby again, humming it now, lowering in volume as she took up the lamp and left the room; his grandmother, he thought, used to do something similar when coaxing him to sleep, and he'd always pretended to be more fully asleep than he was, and he'd always resisted long enough to hear her shut the door, as softly as she could, before he truly dropped off. He stepped away from the door as Terra shut it behind her, almost inaudibly, and only then did he clear his throat softly.
She jumped, but didn't drop the lamp or make a sound. "I didn't know you were there!" she whispered. "I think I'd forgotten you hadn't left."
"Sorry I startled you," he said, his voice low but still louder than he'd meant, and lowered his voice to a whisper as he continued. "I was just watching you earlier."
She blushed. "I'm sorry you had to hear my singing voice."
"No, it was... beautiful. I didn't recognize the song, though."
She touched his arm to steer him down the hall, and replied, just above a whisper, "No one does. I seem to know the tune but not the words - I used to hum it to myself earlier. The na-na sounds I just added later because I got tired of humming."
"Maybe it's just something you remember from way back," he said, "something your mother used to sing when you were a baby, or an Esper song," and the way she smiled at him when he said it made him forget the letter and the thread of the song and his room waiting back at the inn.
"I hope it is," she said, and then looked down as if she was embarrassed. "I don't know. I... should let you go, I guess, it's getting late."
"Not that bad," he said, with a shrug she probably wouldn't notice. "It's not like I have to get up any particular time. But I guess you do - I'm sorry, I should go."
"Oh, that wasn't what I meant! I wouldn't go to bed right away anyhow. I just didn't want to keep you if you wanted to get back. Did you get a chance to finish your letter?"
He blinked, remembering. "Yeah. I think you're out of wax, though."
"I know," she said, grimacing. "I meant to bring up some more - I even wrote myself a note and I still forgot until you mentioned it. Come down to the store with me?" She caught his wrist and led the way; not that she needed to drag him, but he wouldn't object. It didn't take much effort to shift that to holding her hand.
****