I'm On My Way Home
The striker made it back to London in three hours, an impressive feat of nervous speeding and entirely empty roads in the dead of night.
She pulls into her neighborhood at a breakneck speed, but she can’t quite bring herself to care honestly. She flies down the street and into her driveway, throwing her car into park. She barely has time to grab her suitcase before Guro is opening the door, beckoning her inside.
Guro steps back to let Fran in, closing the door behind the brunette as she abandons her suitcase by the front doorstep.
Guro silently holds her pointer finger to her lips, signaling for Fran to stay quiet.
“She’s sleeping,” the winger explains, and Fran nods tersely. They move into the living room, sitting down at opposite ends of the couch as Guro begins to explain everything that's been going on. Fran notices a stack of papers on the kitchen counter, but she decides not to bring it up, simply filling the information away in her mind.
“Ok, so she’s not doing great but she’s ok. She got really sick last night and again tonight, and the doctor said that for the next two to three days that’ll probably be the case. Her fever is crazy high, even with meds, but you just have to try to keep pushing fluids and food when she’ll take it.”
“Jesus G, you make it sound like she’s not even capable of feeding herself,” Fran says quietly, and her insides squirm in panic when Guro looks squirrely, like she doesn’t want to confirm Fran’s words even if they are the truth.
“She’s…she’s pretty sick Fran,” Guro says quietly, but she shakes her head and continues despite the way that Fran’s face falls at her words. “She’s pretty delirious so when she gets up she doesn’t always make a ton of sense, but she falls back to sleep pretty quickly. She’s weak, will need help getting up to go to the bathroom and stuff, but she hasn’t had any signs that she needs to go to the hospital. There’s a full list of doctors instructions on the counter, and a nurse line is written down if you have any questions. Basic rules are rest, get her eating if you can, and lots and lots of water. If her fever gets above 106 degrees, she’s having trouble breathing, or she passes out, then call 999. She has a pretty mild cough all things considered, so that is a good thing, her lungs aren’t super badly impacted.”
“The other good news is that because we already had it back in April we should be immune for now so we can stay with her.” Guro tries to offer a smile at that, but it ends up coming out a little more like a grimace than anything, and Fran at this point just really wants to see Maren.
“Can we go see her?” Fran asks after a beat, and Guro nods immediately, getting to her feet. Fran follows her, as if she isn’t in her own house. As they walk up the stairs, Fran can suddenly hear the coughing.
“That's about as worse as her coughing bouts get sometimes. It’s not as bad as it could, or honestly should be, but it's still there every once in a while. The girls went to the store, got her a shit ton of cold medicine and cough drops and everything so you’re all stocked up. On food too, and Magda and Pernille are bringing more tomorrow, they’ll bring it inside and put whatever needs to be refrigerated in there,” Guro explains gently until they’re at the door to Fran and Maren’s bedroom, and she looks to Fran for a beat before pushing the door open. It’s Guro who steps inside first, immediately going over to Maren, who is laying in the bed.
The Norwegian is under a pile of covers, but Fran can just barely see her face. She looks deathly pale and clammy, her body shaking as she coughs, and then her breath wheezing as she tries to recover. Fran stays at the end of the bed as Guro sits down on the bed next to Maren, a hand over her sick teammate's side.
“Hi Maren. Hvordan går det vennen?” Guro asks gently, and she sees Maren nod once slowly, but her eyes look unfocused and weirdly distant as she rolls back to look at Guro with a slightly confused face.
“Kommer Fran snart? Kan jeg se henne?” Maren asks weakly, and Guro nods, looking over at Fran. The brunette is looking back with focused eyes, wondering how long Maren has been asking for her like this, looking for her. She’s suddenly grateful that she put in the effort to learn at least some Norwegian so that she can know what the green eyed woman is saying, especially in moments like this.
“Yes, yeah, Fran is here now, Maren. She’s right here,” Guro says gently in English, standing and moving back to make room for Fran to take her spot.
Fran walks forward, Maren’s face coming more into view as she gets closer. She crouches down right next to the bed and the defender until their faces are level with one another and Fran can really get a good look at her.
Up close, she looks pale yet flushed somehow, her eyes closed with the baby hairs sticking to her forehead with sweat. She’s shaking slightly, and when Fran reaches forward to place her hand on Maren’s forehead and cheek, she nearly curses at how hot she finds it. She rubs her thumb over Maren’s temple lightly and down to rest on her cheek, just a ghost of a touch, but Maren lets out a whimper of relief at the sensation of Fran’s cool fingers against her skin. Her eyes flutter open, and Fran can see the pain and exhaustion in the Norwegians' ice green eyes, but they widen in surprise when she realizes that Fran is right in front of her.
And then suddenly Maren’s hand is snaking up through the covers at record speed to cover Fran’s own hand, and the Norwegian is sighing deeply, relaxing under the simple, steady contact of Fran’s hand.
“Hey Mare, I’m here, I’m right here. I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere,” Fran murmurs gently, and a tiny smile dances over the defender's lips. She opens her eyes, looks up at the ceiling for a minute before she looks over at Fran again, even if her eyes are unfocused and hazy. The defender just doesn’t look like she’s all there, clearly incredibly ill as evidenced by both her appearance and actions. The normally smiling, bright defender is reduced to exhaustion, pale and clammy under Fran’s touch and watchful gaze.
“Fran,” Maren breathes out, holding Fran’s hand to her cheek with warm fingers. “You…you came back,” she finishes, relief nearly dripping in the words that she stumbles over. Her teeth are chattering slightly as if she's cold, despite the fact that she’s burning up.
“Yes, yeah Maren I came back. I’m always going to come back when you need me,” Fran forces out, trying to keep her voice even and not break, a lump forming in her throat as she realizes how sick Maren is. She can’t believe that she left Maren here by herself, even if she couldn’t have known.
Fran looks back at Guro, who is watching with a creased eyebrow, the worry evident on her face. The brunette genuinely does not know how to thank her friend and teammate for doing this. She knows that Guro would do it in a heartbeat for Maren, especially for Maren, but thank you still doesn’t feel big enough, even if it’s all she's got.
“Thank you,” Fran breathes out, and Guro simply nods once, as if Fran doesn’t even need to say it. “You can go home if you want to, I’ve got it,” Fran assured, when she realized exactly how tired Guro looked. The Norwegian looks exhausted, bags forming under her eyes and hair pulled back into a messy bun that looks a day past good.
“Are you sure?” Guro asked with uncertainty, not entirely convinced that it was a good idea. She had fully briefed Fran on what was going on, but she wasn’t sure if she should leave her alone with the sick woman.
“I’m sure. I’ve got the doctor's instructions, and I can always call you if I need anything. Go home, sleep, eat something. You’ve just done it for the past three days, I’ve got this,” Fran said softly, but with resolution.
“Ok…the doctor's notes are on the kitchen island as you know, and the number and stuff, and I’m only a phone call away, alright? Let me know if you need anything. Or Millie or Magda, they've all been briefed on what's going on as well, ok?” Fran nodded lightly, checking to make sure that Maren had water and food on her bed stand as Guro walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind herself.
Fran stands, pulling her hand away from Maren’s cheek regrettably. The defender chases the contact, letting out a tiny humming noise but Fran quickly hurries around to the other side of the bed, slipping her shoes off before she pulls the covers back, slipping inside with little preamble, not even bothering to change her clothes.
Maren immediately turns over at the feeling of Fran slipping into the bed, tucking herself into the brunette immediately. Maren is wearing sleep shorts and a t-shirt from Fran’s old secondary school, but she radiates heat, and she sighs with thinly veiled relief at the feeling of Fran’s cool neck against her forehead as her limbs tangle with Fran’s. The brunette simply pulled Maren in tighter, thanking who or whatever was out there that Guro had called her when she did. The thought of not being here when Maren was this ill literally made Fran nauseous.
Fran gently hums, rocking Maren back and forth just slightly when the defender began to cry gently, shifting uncomfortably. The Norwegians whole body felt like it was on fire, but the feeling of Fran against her gave her something to hold onto, ground herself, and that somehow made herself feel better. Fran’s gentle movement manages to soothe her though, and the brunette clings to her tightly despite the heat that she’s radiating in waves, whispering sweet nothings into Maren’s scalp. Maren manages to fall into a fitful sleep just about an hour after Fran gets home at around three, and Fran follows not long after, exhausted by the late hour and her drive back.
—
When Fran wakes up, she’s incredibly disoriented for some reason. She’s still wearing her bra and socks, not exactly the usual sleeping attire for the striker, which confuses her straight out of the bat. When she blinks her eyes open, she realizes that she’s back in her bedroom, which is a little weird considering that she was at her aunt's house last ni–
Oh my god.
Maren.
Fran is suddenly fully awake as she realizes that the bed is empty next to her, and the covers fly back as she rips them off of herself, lurching toward the bathroom, which is the first place that she can think that Maren would be.
The door is open, and Fran turns the corner into the room to find Maren slumped over the toilet, her head resting on the seat, her limbs in a tangle under herself.
“Maren,” Fran breathes out, and the Norwegian groans weakly, lifting her head just slightly to look at Fran. She looks even more pale in this lighting, and her entire body is shaking just slightly, a constant movement that sets Fran on edge with concern.
“Fran,” Maren croaks out, and the striker comes to rest behind the defender, sliding in behind her. The brunette’s arms come to wrap around Maren’s, shifting her back into her body, pulling her into the solidness of her chest and letting her lean back into Fran’s body. The brunette reaches up to feel Maren’s forehead from its spot resting against her shoulder, wincing at the heat still radiating from her. She hadn’t expected her to be better overnight but the defender seems just as sick as she did last night.
“Are you going to throw up anymore? Back to bed?” Fran asks with a soft voice, and Maren shakes her head softly, her eyes screwing shut at the movement as she catches herself, one of her hands coming up to clutch at her forehead while the other one instinctually moves to Fran’s knee, squeezing her thigh over the leggings that the brunette is wearing.
“Teeth, then bed,” Maren manages to get out quietly, and Fran nods lightly, shifting Maren forward so that she can stand, then helping Maren up and looping a hand around her waist.
Fran is grateful for her own strength and the fact that Maren actually isn’t that big, because she’s able to all but haul Maren to her feet, and direct the Norwegian to the sink as the green eyed woman shuffles forward on wobbly and weak legs.
Maren is leaning almost entirely into Fran as she brushes her teeth, and relies heavily on Fran to keep her upright as they walk painfully slowly back to the bed. Fran sits her down on her side of the bed, helping her move her legs back under her and bringing the covers up to her chest. She hands Maren some water, and the defender drinks some slow sips before Fran helps her place the glass on the bedside table.
After Fran gets Maren comfortably situated back into bed, she quickly leaves to go read the doctor's note in the kitchen so that she can figure out what to give Maren to hopefully help her feel better. She reads that she can give both acetaminophen and ibuprofen to help reduce a fever, so she grabs the pill bottles off the counter and takes them back up to their room.
Fran first takes Maren’s temperature, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head when it reads 103 degrees, before she quickly moves to grab the pill bottles, her own hands shaking just slightly before she settles them with a deep breath. Fran hands Maren each pill, watching her swallow and drink the rest of the glass of water in small sips. As she lays back, the Norwegian coughs lightly, but luckily it passes after a minute or so and doesn’t turn into a huge coughing fit. Her eyes are closed before her head practically hits the pillow, and Fran pulls the covers up and over her before she grabs the doctor's packet to finish reading it.
Fran gets up from her spot on the side of the bed to sit in the rocking chair in the corner of their room, before deciding to move it so she could see Maren better. The brunette drags the heavy wooden chair right next to their bed, settling in it lightly and turning the packet back to the first page, her hand running over the smooth wooden armchair.
She remembers distinctly the day that her and Maren had bought the chair. They had only been dating for maybe two months at this point, but honestly? Fran already knew that Maren was it for her. She had known for months, really, but hadn’t gotten the nerve up to say anything or ask her out until two months previously. But that day when they bought the rocking chair, after training, Maren had dragged her out on a walk because it had been such a gorgeous day that she claimed that they simply must appreciate the sunshine. And just about ten minutes into their walk, they saw a sign for an estate sale, that of course Maren dragged Fran into, sifting through the different items in the house.
Fran remembers looking over at Maren the moment that the Norwegian saw the rocking chair. Her face had absolutely lit up, her eyebrows raised in surprise, her eyes wide in almost childlike wonder. The biggest smile had spread across her face, and it was such a Maren smile that it brought a smile to even Fran’s lips, and she watched as the Norwegian moved toward the chair as if it had a gravitational force pulling her in. Fran watched as Maren’s hand had ghosted over one of the arms of the chair, the pads of her fingers running against the smooth wood.
“It reminds me of a chair my mother had in my room when I was a child,” Maren had murmured in explanation, sending a little smile over to Fran, who had immediately turned to one of the people organizing the sale and asked “how much?”
Not twenty minutes later, Fran had a rocking chair in her bedroom. Some might say that she was a bit overcommitted, buying such a big piece of furniture all because her girlfriend of two months wanted it. But Fran didn’t care, and she had felt like she had loved Maren for a lifetime even though it had been a short period that they had been together. Before they had moved in together, it served as a near permanent reminder of Maren, always making the striker smile when she saw it.
After they moved in together, Fran’s love for the chair multiplied a hundred times over because she got to watch the Norwegian use it in real time, all the time. She often could be found curled up in it with a blanket and a book at the most odd times.
It was rare that Fran actually sat in the chair, but it felt fitting now, a surprisingly comfortable place to watch over Maren as she slept. Fran read the doctor's packet from front to back, making note of what to do if Maren’s fever got too high, what food to give her, and how to help alleviate her fever and cough if it gets worse.
When Fran finally places the packet down, she takes a moment to really look at Maren in the dark room. There’s light trying to pool in, but someone (Guro probably) had drawn the blackout curtains, so the room is swarmed in relative darkness.
To be honest, Maren herself wasn’t a particularly pretty sight right now, and the fact that she was in pain made the forward shift uncomfortably in her seat. The defender was pale, with deep, dark bags under her eyes. Her hair was haphazardly pulled back, some of the shorter strands of her hair falling out of it, framing her face. Her face was pinched as though she was in pain even in her sleep, and every few minutes she would shift uncomfortably, a hand moving or a hip shifting or something else. When she coughed, the action seemed to rip through her whole body, shaking her violently. But what was worse was that Fran knew there was nothing she could do, really, not to help in a substantial way. She stays beside Maren all day, only going down briefly when Pernille and Magda stop by to drop off some groceries.
“How is she doing?” Magda asks in a hushed tone as Fran places a small thing of milk into the fridge. They’ve mostly remained in silence until now, when Magda finally worked up the courage to ask.
“Not great, but it could be worse. Her lungs aren’t as affected as they probably should be all things considered, but she’s in a lot of pain,” Fran says quietly, shaking her head and pushing the baby hairs back from her forehead with a sigh.
Pernille and Magda share a wordless look, their faces holding equal sympathy for the woman in front of them.
“She’s going to be alright Fran. And she’s got you, I can guarantee that’s all she wants,” Magda offers gently, and Fran nods tersely, but she looks out the window as she does it, her expression unreadable.
“I should have been here. It shouldn’t have taken me four whole days to realize she was this sick. I mean for Christ's sake she shouldn’t have been alon-” Fran started, only to be interrupted by Pernille.
“Don’t do that to yourself. There’s always the what ifs. You got here when you could, faster than anyone else would have probably. And that's enough, it's enough for her. I might not know her well but I can guarantee that,” Pernille said, and the English woman didn’t know the Danish forward well, but she deflated under the simplicity and conviction in her words.
“She’s right Fran. Maren wanted you to go, she never would have wanted you to come back. But you still did, and that’s enough for her. She’s going to be fine, and you’re going to be here, and it’s going to be okay,” Magda said calmly, and Fran feels her shoulders relax. Magda has always been a good captain, knew what to say when it was needed and today seemed to be no different.
“Thank you both for coming, I really appreciate it,” Fran offers instead of a direct response, hoping that her expression conveys her gratitude. If Pernille and Magda’s faces are anything to go by, she does a good job.
“Anything for you two,” Magda confirms, and Fran nods with relief before the two gather their things, leaving Fran back alone in her home with Maren.
When she returns to her and Maren’s bedroom, she opts to sit on the floor directly next to the bed. She puts her hand up on the mattress and Maren’s fingers are lacing through her own just seconds later. Fran shifts her arm back slightly, making herself comfortable as Maren curls their interlocked fingers into her chest, falling back asleep with a relieved sigh.
Maren’s fever lowers with the medication, but it’s still high by normal standards. Fran manages to get her to sit up to eat some applesauce and toast with a little bit of peanut butter on it for some protein after her nap, and she helps the defender to the bathroom a couple of times, but for the most part Maren spends her day in a restless sleep, her fever continuing to burn through her body.
Apart from seeing Pernille and Magda in the morning, Fran only leaves to eat one meal throughout the day, text Guro back to tell her they’re doing alright and thank her once again before she climbs back into bed with Maren. She’s spent nearly all day shifting between the rocking chair and floor, watching Maren and avoiding disturbing her as much as possible.
When she climbs back into bed, she shifts forward to wrap her arm around Maren’s abdomen, pulling the defender's back flush with her front. Maren melts easily into the contact, her lungs rumbling against Fran’s chest as she lets out a deep breath. Fran holds firmly to Maren as she drops her head to Maren’s neck, her nose brushing the back of Maren’s neck. Fran breathes in deeply, and despite the fact that Maren is sick, she still smells exactly like herself and Fran is grateful for it.
Maren is trembling just slightly, but Fran just holds her securely and it manages to subside, the warmth from the forward seeping into her skin as her breath evens out.
Fran falls into a surprisingly easy sleep considering the early hour, holding Maren close to herself.
—
“No.”
“No.”
“No, please!”
“Please, please, not Fran, please, no!”
Fran feels like she’s hearing the words underwater, as if they're floating away from her in low waves, away from her and the bed that she had gone to sleep in just a few hours earlier with Maren.
But the mention of her name rouses her, along with the feeling of someone thrashing in the bed. When Fran finally manages to open her eyes, she’s no longer pressed against the Norwegian, but entirely by herself on her side of the bed, with the defender on the far side, curled into a little ball facing toward Fran, her legs twitching and her arms thrashing out every few seconds.
Her face is distraught, tears streaming down her already gaunt looking face. Fran is frozen for a moment, unsure of exactly what to do. Maren never really got nightmares, and neither did she, and she wasn’t sure how exactly to go about waking the Norwegian. She didn’t know what to do to make her feel better, but she couldn’t stand seeing just how upset Maren had managed to make herself in her sleep.
“No, no, no, please!”
Hearing Maren call out again, her voice hoarse and rough from disuse and illness had Fran all but lurching forward, shoving the covers out of the way in her quest to get to the defender. She ends up hovering over Maren, looking down at her partner's taut and distressed figure.
“Maren,” Fran whispers softly, her hands coming down to grip Maren’s shoulders gently, shaking them back and forth lightly. But the Norwegian just cries out softly, one of her hands shoving at Fran’s, and the brunette retracts her hands like Maren is on fire. She tries instead placing them once more on Maren’s arms, gently rubbing up and down with soothing movements this time instead of shaking her shoulders like she had just tried.
That seems to do the trick, as Maren gasps, her eyes flying open, wild, panicked, and searching for something. Her whole body is tense beneath Fran until her gaze connects with Fran, and her entire body relaxes back into the bed as she lets out a harsh breath.
“Fran,” she breathes out heavily, another fat tear falling down her cheek as her hands come up to wrap around the brunette's arm, her hands clawing out trying to get Fran closer to her as her eyes remain wild and confused. The brunette shifts down to wrap Maren in a tight hug, shifting her to the side so that she can pull Maren into her side fully, leaning her head back on one of the pillows on their bed. Maren is burning up, a feverish delusion of a nightmare that leaves her with each breath pressed against Fran’s side.
“Hey, hey, it's ok. I’m right here Maren, I’ve got you,” Fran mumbles gently as Maren holds her tightly, her skin absolutely burning against Frans as she tightly grips at Fran’s side and one of her hands.
When the brunette leans back, Maren is looking up at her with distraught, anxious eyes. She looks just borderline of delirious, not exactly surprising considering how high her fever likely is. Fran moves to get medicine or maybe a cool washcloth to put on her forehead, but the defender's hand that has fallen off of Fran’s waist snakes out to latch onto the t-shirt she is wearing, stopping her in her tracks.
“No, please,” Maren whispers, her voice small and in pain. “Stay.” Fran melts on the spot, drifting instinctually back to the Norwegian and wrapping her in her arms, Maren’s head pressed into her neck. She honestly doesn’t even care that she’s even starting to sweat with how hot Maren is because the minute that she secures her arms around Maren the defender is softening and relaxing into her touch, her nose pressed into the column of Fran’s throat as she lets out a little noise of repose.
“You’re ok,” Fran hears Maren mumble against her throat with relief, and she tightens her grip even more around the Norwegian, if it was even remotely possible.
“I’m ok, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, Maren. I’ve got you,” Fran says resolutely, listening to Maren’s breathing deepen and even back out as she drifts back to sleep, pressed fully into Fran.
It takes the brunette longer to fall asleep after that than when she initially fell asleep, worried that the Norwegian is going to wake up again with another nightmare, but she manages to calm herself back to sleep with Maren nestled securely against her body, her heartbeat even against Fran’s chest.
—
When Fran wakes up again, Maren is still sleeping draped over her chest, her chest rising and falling evenly against Fran. The brunette relaxes, unable to truly fall back asleep but drifting in and out without disturbing Maren.
Maren is warm but not scaldingly so, and she remains firmly pressed against Fran, her arms wrapped tightly around the brunette's abdomen. Her hair is falling down her back in silky, long strands, and Fran allows herself to card her fingers through it gently, her fingers trailing down Maren’s back and up again in soothing back and forth motions. The brunette is nestled with her head right over Fran’s heart, and she sighs contentedly once when Fran is awake, and it makes the forward's heart swoon despite the given circumstances.
When Fran finally can’t sleep anymore, she allows herself to lay in bed half asleep and half awake, the comforting weight of Maren on top of her like a security blanket.
When the Norwegian finally wakes up, she leans back and looks up at Fran sleepily, her eyes opening and closing softly. There are a few rays of sunlight coming through the curtains, and they splash across her face, lighting up her features. She’s so close that Fran can see the flecks of green in her gray eyes, the ridges of crinkles that appear when a sleepy smile spreads across her lips.
“Morning,” Fran says softly, reaching a hand forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Maren’s ear, and the Norwegian leans into the contact, her eyes closing as she leans into Fran’s hand. The brunette cups her hand over the defender's cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the smooth skin.
“Morning,” Maren whispers quietly in response as she opens her eyes again, and Fran smiles back at her, pleasantly surprised by the fact that she looks much better than she did yesterday. She reaches a hand forward to rest on Maren’s forehead this time, the Norwegians eyes intently trained on her as she focuses on the task at hand.
She’s warmer than she should be, but no longer scaldingly hot to Fran’s relief. The brunette climbs out of bed, Maren watching her wordlessly as she walks over to Maren’s side, sitting down in the rocking chair and reaching for the medication and water on her bedside table. Fran offers her the correct tablets along with the glass of water, and then silently offers her a few crackers, which she takes without complaint.
“Maybe a bath? I feel like that might feel nice right now, help with your sore muscles and everything” Fran finally says, breaking the silence, and Maren nods as she moves to sit up. Fran helps to ease her up, and Maren takes the offered hand when standing. The Norwegian is more solid on her feet, but Fran still walks her to the bathtub, helping her sit gently on the edge as she watches her with eyes like a hawk. The brunette has become quite attuned to Maren over the years, especially because the defender had a propensity to hide her true feelings if she thought it would inconvenience others. So by now, years into their relationship, Fran almost knows Maren as well as she knows herself (sometimes maybe even more than she knows herself), and she knows what to look for to tell if the Norwegian is in pain, stressed, or nervous.
Maren twists her hands in her lap as Fran turns around to grab a towel, and the brunette can tell it's a nervous tell from about a mile away. She turns back to the Norwegian with her eyebrows raised in a clear question, and Maren shrinks in on herself just a little bit, a timid smile on her face.
“What?” She asks gently, her eyebrow arched with a small smile on her face. Maren looks at her guiltily, shrugging noncommittally as her eyes stay downcast, unable to meet Fran’s.
“I was thinking you would maybe join me?” She asks hopefully, and Fran smiles easily, nodding easily in response. There’s nowhere else she would rather be, to be fair.
“I will never pass on that offer while I am of sound body and mind,” Fran replies simply, turning to get another towel before she starts the bath. “I haven’t showered since I got home, I probably smell gross anyways,” she finishes, waving her hand noncommittally, missing the way that Maren’s face falls entirely at the second part of her sentence. The defender has sort of recovered her expression by the time Fran has turned back around, but the brunette takes the contorted face of the Norwegian as being in pain.
“Are you ok?” Fran asks with concern, a crease appearing in her forehead as she steps over to stand in front of Maren. The defender waves her off gently, standing slowly and stiffly to get out of her clothes as Fran steps back to divest herself of her own clothes. The English woman watches out of the corner of her eye as Maren slowly undresses, careful to use the edge of the tub for balance often.
Fran knows Maren’s body. She knows it like the back of her hand at this point. She knows the scar on her ankle from an old surgery, and all the tiny white lashes of scars on the defender's knees from various cuts and scrapes. She knows every single freckle, every divet and peak of her body. She knows where her body hurts the most at the end of a long day, and what areas of her body are the most sensitive.
So when the defender lifts her shirt over head, leaving her in just a sports bra, it takes everything in Fran to keep the sound of surprise that rises in her throat from coming out. Because Fran really hadn’t realized how hollowed the defender's stomach is, and she feels like she can count the individualized ribs that crawl up Maren’s side. She looks as if she hasn’t eaten properly in weeks, and it nearly makes Fran trip over the pant leg that she was stepping out of.
She knows logically that a little bit of weight loss (that might present as extreme) is common after a severe or intense illness, Fran remembers it distinctly from her own illness. But it’s alarming to see on someone else's body, especially Maren’s body at that. Fran can see the outline of her ribcage, the dip of her stomach that stretches further back toward her spine than normal.
Bright, easygoing, quick to love Maren. Maren, who always has a smile to offer, or a hug to give, or a thoughtful word for a teammate having a hard time. Who had the warmest, kindest heart and expression in the world. The person who puts so much love and warmth into the world every single day, just by being.
Her Maren.
It makes Fran feel ill thinking about Maren being sick, being so so sick. She knew that she wasn’t going to die or anything, but seeing Maren, usually so calm and strong and steady as so incredibly sick, was jarring. It sat painfully in Fran’s stomach, festering and making her insides squirm uncomfortably.
She suddenly realizes that she hasn’t the slightest clue how Maren ever made it through the period when she herself had been so ill. Because she is just realizing now, if the roles were reversed, it might have actually killed her. The days and weeks and months where Maren always had a smile on her face, always had a reassuring word, always putting aside her own needs and wants in order to care for Fran. Maren had always insisted it was her choice to be there, and while Fran knew she couldn’t have been anywhere else these past few days with Maren so sick, the anxiety that she had felt truly exhausted her.
And suddenly, all of the memories of when Fran pushed Maren away, tried to shove her out when she was at her lowest are coming back to her, eating her from the inside out like stomach acid that erodes anything it touches. She suddenly felt ashamed that she had looked someone who had clearly cared for her so much in the eyes, and tried to send her away. Fran already knew that Maren was one of the strongest people she knew, but that cemented it in her mind. After everything that Maren had endured for her, after everything that she had done to be there for Fran and help her through one of the roughest times in her life, she was left in disbelief at the shockingly large ability to love in the face of so much adversity that Fran’s illness had thrown at her.
And then Maren is looking over at her with a concerned gaze, noticing the darkening of Fran’s expression as she suddenly stops undressing, but the brunette shakes her head slightly. The Norwegian doesn’t seem convinced, but she’s struggling to pull her own clothes off so she isn’t able to give it her full attention. Fran stops what she’s doing, still clad in her bra and leggings to help Maren, directing her to sit as she pulls Maren’s shorts down her legs.
She kisses the outside of the defender's thigh, her knee, her shin, the side of her calf, her ankle gently, before she sets Maren’s foot on the floor softly, shifting to sit next to her partner, their sides pressed into one another. Fran turns her head, pressing her forehead into Maren’s temple, and the Norwegian simply lets herself lean into the touch. Fran’s arms come up to wrap around Maren’s torso, her thumb brushing softly over the smooth skin at Maren’s hipbone.
“I don’t know how you did it when I was sick. How you kept it together, how you were there for me, how you still played and showed up and somehow managed everything,” Fran speaks gently, and Maren pulls back at that, her green eyes soft and compassionate as she meets Fran’s worried gaze.
“If you think for a second I was going to leave the love of my life when she needed me the most, I really have not done a good job showing you how much I care,” Maren started softly, lifting her hand to brush the back of it against Fran’s cheek lightly.
“I tried to look at it from a perspective of what we did have, as opposed to what we didn’t. Focus on the positive side of things. Even if I woke up and you were still sick, it meant that it was another day I got to spend with you, see you smile and listen to your laugh and snuggle with you as I fell asleep. And I was never not grateful for that, for the chance to wake up next to you every morning and be there for you. I will never take that for granted anymore, especially after your illness. Every moment with you, every memory, whether that be wonderful or horrible, I treasure with my entire heart, because I treasure you with my entire heart.”
“And I was never really alone. I had the team, I had my family, and I always had you. You make it seem like you weren’t around, like you were a ghost, but you were always there. Just being with you soothed an ache in my soul I didn’t realize existed until I met you. And while I would never wish an illness on anyone, one of the things I took away from the whole experience was to stop and appreciate the quietness and stillness of being with you. Appreciate every single minute with you. Every breath you took, or laugh, or smile that you gave me was everything. It still is.”
“Even on the bad days, you were always worth it. You’ve always been worth it. Getting to be with you, that is everything, and it never mattered if you were sick or in perfect health. You are still you, and I love exactly who you are, in any stage of life. In sickness and in health no?” Maren finished quietly, her voice so low it was nearly a murmur. Fran nods softly, simply without the words to enunciate how she was feeling as her eyes roved over Maren’s face, over the openness of it, how soft and gentle her gaze was, at every freckle and line and smooth plane of skin.
“What did I do in life to deserve something as wonderful and perfect as you,” Fran whispered, and Maren let out a small laugh, a light sound that echoed across the tile on their bathroom floor, lighting up both the room and Fran’s own heart.
“You never needed to do anything except be yourself,” Maren states, as if it's the simplest thing in the whole wide world. Fran had to contain herself to stop the tears that were flowing, wiping under her eyes and fixing Maren with a look that bordered on playful seriousness, and the Norwegian just offered back a shy smile, ducking her chin into her chest. The brunette stood to help Maren finish undressing until she’s ready to get into the bathtub, perched on the side of the tub. Fran knows that if she even attempts to speak right now, the words that she wants to get out won’t make it past the lump of emotions in her throat at Maren’s honesty and love.
Fran quickly undresses, stripping herself of her days old clothes before stepping into the tub first to check the water. She leans forward to adjust the taps slightly before she turns to Maren, who is peering at her with open and bright eyes, a sparkling point against the backdrop of dark undereye bags and pale skin. Fran steps to the edge of the tub, offering a hand to Maren, who steps in after her, leaning heavily into the brunette for balance as she steps into the bathtub. Fran helps Maren sit down first, in front of her, and then she settles in behind her, her hips and legs coming to bracket Maren’s. The Norwegian leans back, resting the back of her head on Fran’s shoulder, her nose turning in just slightly toward Fran until the tip of her nose is ghosting along Fran’s neck.
But as sweet as the conversation between the two a few minutes ago had been, there’s still something on Maren’s mind. It’s been nagging at her since she can first remember waking up, realizing that Fran was back at home and not in Manchester, where she should have been.
Maren wasn’t really one for conflict. She was a peaceful person, and generally left each person's choices as their own. But for some reason, this particular thing had struck a chord with her. Maybe because it was Fran, maybe because it spoke to something deeper and more important than herself or her relationships. But regardless, after just a few minutes of comfortable silence, Maren finally works up the courage to say what’s been at the forefront of her mind for a while now. She says it softly, almost as though she doesn’t truly wish to be heard, but still knows that she needs to say it.
“You shouldn’t have come home,” The Norwegian said quietly, her entire body tensing against Fran’s as she finally managed to speak the statement aloud. Fran, who had just closed her eyes, feels them pop open again, in surprise this time though. She isn’t quite sure she heard Maren correctly, that Maren would say what she just said. Out of all the things that she expected her partner to say, that wasn’t even in the realm of what she was expecting.
“What?” Fran questioned, her eyebrows furrowing as she raised her head, attempting to crane her neck to look at Maren. She knows that she heard the defender correctly, but she can’t stop the word before it’s out, decides that she should probably follow it up with something else. “Maren, what are you talking about?” Fran practically stammers out in surprise, her body shifting forward as she speaks, moving the defender with her.
In lieu of moving with the brunette, the Norwegian simply sits up, shifting forward and away from Fran, looking ahead and still not at her. She focuses on a point on the bathroom wall for a moment, before she looks down and runs her hand over the surface of the water, thinking over her answer until she is finally able to organize her thoughts into an appropriate response.
“I just…you’d been waiting for months to see your family. I wished that you had stayed with them, instead of coming running back to me just because I was a little sick. You need to be around your family, Fran.” Maren argued lightly, her tone desperately trying to stay neutral as her words floated out softly, an innocence to them that didn’t reflect the true weight of her words. The defender knew this was a contentious topic to be discussed, and she and Fran often left it untouched, but the Norwegian for some reason couldn’t keep this one to herself.
Fran couldn’t speak for a moment, she was genuinely so stunned. She simply had no idea what to say, or how to respond to that. It was a shocking statement, and not something she could have ever expected for the defender to say. She can’t tell where it’s coming from, if Maren didn’t realize how sick she was, if she truly didn’t care for herself that much, or what she even meant by a statement like that. She opened and closed her mouth over and over again before she finally managed to stumble over a response that was far from eloquent, but was about all she could muster.
“Maren, I…what? Maren, you were ill. Guro called me in the middle of the night in a panic because you had been asking for me, and you’ve been delirious more than not these past few days, your fever was so high.” Fran started, her voice incredulous.
“Your fever was so high we didn’t know if we should take you to the hospital, and you could barely stand to get to the bathroom by yourself? Maren this wasn’t some cold you could just drink some water to fix and wish away, this was serious stuff. And I’m your partner, would you really expect me to hear all of this, hear that you had been asking for me and simply not come?” Fran continues, trying her best not to let her voice drop into becoming too alarming.
“And I do need to be with my family, yeah, but you are my family Maren. Just as much as they all are, I mean I feel like we’ve really established that at this point, and if you needed me I would always come. I could be at the ends of the earth and still come, hell a drive back from Manchester is nothing. I don’t…I mean where is this coming from?” Fran asked, shaking her head as she tried to process Maren’s statement. It all just feels so out of the blue, like it came from left field. She’s staring at the defenders back, watching as it rises and falls rhythmically, her head still turned down toward the water. Fran can see how tense her shoulders are, the muscles at the top of her back rippling slightly as she sucks in another taught breath.
“I just think you should go spend more time with your family, Fran. This was a big opportunity, I mean we prepared for this. And you’ve been without them for so long, and I bet they were so happy to see you and spend time with you just on your own, without me there to ruin it or anything. You don’t need to come running back to me, you know, I can take care of myself,” Maren says resolutely, but her voice gives her away as it wavers slightly, and she can feel the tears building up in her eyes. It only adds to the pressure already in her head, and she looks back up at the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she lets out a wavering deep breath that Fran watches with a confused gaze.
“Maren,” Fran murmured softly, her voice remorseful as she leans forward to snake her hand around Maren’s stomach, pulling her back into the warmth of Fran’s body. Maren feels limbless, letting herself be moved like a ragdoll back into Fran’s embrace, her lip trembling under the effort not to cry that she is exerting. But then Fran brings a hand up, drying it on a towel she placed on the edge of the tub before she rubs the back of it gently over Maren’s cheek, and the Norwegian leans into the touch but it also breaks the last of her thinly held resolve not to cry.
When the first tear slips down the defender's cheek, she can’t stop the wave of them that comes after. They stream down her cheeks silently, but the brunette can still feel them, she moves her hand to bring Maren into tighter to herself, allowing the defender to turn her body to the side and curl into Fran slightly.
Maren’s shoulders shake as silent sobs wracked her body, her eyes screwed shut as she fights to get herself under control. It feels like everything about the subject of Fran’s family, how much they didn’t like her, always having to stay away, the pain of seeing Fran’s upset at her lack of acceptance from her aunts is running through Maren’s mind. Just when she thinks she’s begun to calm herself, she’s reminded of some new and equally ugly memory and sends her right back down the spiral.
But Fran is just calm and solid, trying not to react too heavily except to hold Maren tightly to her. She eventually brings her hand up to rest on Maren's forehead, tipping her head back just slightly until she can press a kiss to her warm temple. Maren looks up at her, and her green eyes are red rimmed, her entire face flushed with both fever and upset, and it leaves Fran feeling a bit wrecked, desperate to get the situation to something she can understand and help with.
“Please Maren, you have to calm down,” Fran pleaded lightly, and Maren hiccuped as she sucked in a breath, trying to slow her breathing and stop the tears that flowed readily from her eyes. She is still holding eye contact with Fran, their faces just inches from each other. Fran breathes deeply and slowly, exaggerating the motion for Maren to follow easily. When the Norwegian has gotten herself under control, the brunette finally asks what exactly has been on Maren’s mind, what led to this reaction.
“Where is this coming from? I’m a little confused, is this about you being sick? I know that you’re a perfectly capable adult Maren” Fran responds earnestly, and Maren shakes her head gently, slowly moving around to sit so that she is facing Fran as she wipes the last of the tears from her cheeks. The brunette roves over the Norwegians face and body, noting the exhaustion in her shoulders, how her chest is flushed and her face has returned to looking haggard and upset.
“I know how close you are to your family,” Maren started calmly, her voice carefully curated as she continued to breathe slowly and purposefully. “I also know that your family, or your aunts, are not the most accepting of me, and I just feel that there are too many times where you choose me over them. I don’t want to be a block or a burden on you, getting in the way of being with your family. I don’t want you to feel like I’m dependent on you. I can spend time with myself, and you should go and be with them. It’s what you need, what you deserve,” Maren said carefully, every word measured and thought out. Fran feels like she deflated, the air in her lungs leaving her right then and there. She had no idea that Maren had felt that way, shakes her head gently as she tries to process the sudden shift in topic.
“I’m close to my family, and I love them and getting to see them. The fact that my aunts make you feel unwelcome and uncomfortable in my little family makes my heart hurt, but not because of you, never because of you. It’s always a sadness for them, what they have lost by acting the way that they are. Because they’ll never get to meet the real, authentic you. They never get to know the true pleasure of being on the opposite end of a friendship with you in the way that my dad and brother do.”
“But that is their bone to pick, not mine. I make my own decisions because I am an adult, and honestly? Most of the time, I would rather be here with you snuggled up in bed.”
“They are my family and I will always love them, but they are my given family. You, you are my chosen family, Maren. And I will always love everyone equally, but I love them for who they are. I love you for who you are, who you make me, how you bring out the best in me and everyone around you. And I would choose you, over and over and over again. Over all the homophobic relatives or any other challenge that we have faced. It’s you, and it’s always been you. I make the choice that makes my heart feel at peace, and you, you are that peace for me. And it makes me so incredibly angry that they could ever make you feel this way, have this power over you because they don’t deserve it. Probably more angry than I have even begun to comprehend honestly, because I’ve never stopped to dwell on it for too long.”
“Please don’t let them ruin this, please, I’m begging you to listen to me. Because I love you and I would choose you and be right here with you for the rest of my life if you had me. It’s always been you, it was you in the past, it’s you right now, and it’s always going to be you.”
“You’re it for me,” Fran explains with wet, pleading eyes. She watches as Maren relaxes, more tears filling in her eyes as she moves forward in the water to wrap her arms around Fran.
“You’re it for me too, elskede” Maren confirmed, and Fran pulls her more tightly into her arms, the Norwegians legs untucking from under her as Fran pulls her body flush with hers. They stay like that for a while, simply holding each other, Maren relaxing fully into Fran, allowing her head to rest fully against Fran as she leaned into the warmth of the water that surrounded them.
When she pulls back, Fran looks Maren right in the eyes and can’t help but feel relief in how assured and calm the defender looks, the first time all day she’s seemed to be that way. Her face is still patchy and her eyes are red rimmed from crying, but she somehow looks like she feels better, a small smile etched into her features.
Fran had never stopped to think about the impact of her family’s relationship with Maren as a huge impactor. It was an anger she shoved deep, deep within herself, something that she was determined not to bring up but rather to hide away. What she obviously didn’t have the foresight to think of, was the impact of that decision on Maren.
The Norwegian was so self assured all the time, Fran genuinely was under the impression that the whole situation didn’t bother her. Maren had never given her any indication that it made her upset or feel any sort of way, which looking back was entirely Fran’s own fault for never asking expressly. She should have been checking in on Maren about how she was feeling regarding the situation, instead of just sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it. The Norwegian had a tendency to put the needs of others before her own feelings, and that was even more true for Fran than most people.
But the knowledge that this whole situation made Maren as upset as it did instantly made the brunette infinitely more angry about everything.
When it had first started, her aunts shunning of Maren and of Fran’s sexuality had been uncomfortable and genuinely surprising. They had always been lovely and kind to Fran about everything, so for this sudden switch to occur, it caught Fran off guard. By the third time she brought Maren home, it had finally sunk in that this behavior was not going to go away. Instead of confronting her aunts, or saying anything really, Fran had crumbled in on herself, tucking the painful piece of information far back somewhere inside her mind. She tried her best to numb the pain that coursed through her when she thought of it.
Sharing her love with the world wasn’t really something that she was interested in, but showing her family her love? Fran had always dreamed of that, ever since she realized that she was gay. She knew that she was lucky that her father and brother were so accepting of her, but Fran’s immediate family was small and close, and it somehow managed to hurt almost as much when her aunts shunned Maren, as if her own father had done it.
Because as the brunette reaches forward to grab Maren’s vanilla and jasmine bodywash, she feels reminded all over again of the fact of Maren’s brilliance. All it took was one look from the Norwegian to leave her in a puddle of mush. Her love for Maren felt so deep, it might as well have been etched onto her bones. She gently rubs the sweet smelling soap over Maren’s limbs, over every scar, divet, inch of skin she can find with soft, caring hands. It feels so minuscule compared to the love she feels in her heart, but Fran presses her love into the Norwegian. When she looks at Maren, she hopes to god that the
Fran will never understand how a love like this, a love this pure and simple and powerful, ever made her unloveable. She genuinely could not comprehend how her aunts could see something that made their niece so happy, and choose to ignore that in favor of their prejudice. It’s not something she would have expected out of them, never would have seen coming.
But then Maren is looking over at her, and Fran can’t help but want to memorize everything about her in this moment. The slope of her forehead, the hue of her skin in the early morning light, how there are flecks of brown in her irises as she looks over at Fran. The wrinkles in the corner of her eyes as she smiles, and the softness of her round cheeks, her eyebrows furrowed slightly at the dazed look on Fran’s face.
She feels like she’s watching poetry in motion. It feels as though time stops, and for just that single moment it's just her and Maren, and nothing else in the world matters. The Norwegian is looking at her as if she’s a breath of fresh air, a devotion and security unlike anything Fran has ever known before. In moments like these, it literally takes her breath away.
It is in that moment that the brunette decides that regardless of her past actions or thoughts, that she owes it to both herself and Maren to try to talk to her aunts. Not everything that is faced can be changed, but one can’t possibly know until they try.
And Fran isn’t ready to let the possibility of having her whole family complete without a fight. She's never been one to back down from a challenge, after all.