Blindsided

It took another week for Cirrus to be formally discharged from the hospital, but she could only leave with assurance that Lazuli understood how to care for her, and at least had the skill necessary to teach Cirrus how to move around and walk with a cane on her own. For most ponies, a magical alternative was often given – a special harness that creates a barrier around the pony to keep them from bumping into things, and indicates where curbs and walls are. Unfortunately, Draconies were resistant to magic, so the harness didn’t properly work. It was either a cane or a service animal, and Cirrus decided she wanted the former.

Lazuli had to attend a seminar to explain the basics. It was almost insulting, she thought, for they referred to her wife as if she was suddenly unable to do anything by herself…but the more Lazuli thought about it, the truer it was. Without her sight, at least until she could get used to it, Cirrus was essentially helpless. In fact, Lazuli just hoped that three months of leave would be enough to get her used to it…she wondered if she should take a desk job, just so she wouldn’t have to leave Cirrus any longer than a few hours.

Lazuli also had her wing casts removed. Wing bones healed much faster than others, and while they weren’t perfect, the doctor said as long as she didn’t fly for extended periods for a while they would be good as new.

Cirrus was sad. She didn’t say it, she tried not to show it, but it was obvious. It wasn’t like it would have been unacceptable for her to be, anyway – losing her sight, probably the sense that she valued the most out of all of them, was devastating for her. Lazuli had listened to her for hours on the first night, lamenting the things that she couldn’t see again. Both of them had asked the doctor multiple times if he thought there was any chance this was temporary, and he simply said that he didn’t want to give them false hope. It was unlikely, to an extreme degree, that Cirrus would ever see again. He mentioned that they had corrective spells they could use on normal ponies, but Draconies were borderline immune to magic – both harmful and helpful.

On the last day of Cirrus’ stay in the hospital, Lazuli sat next to her on the bed, gently stroking her back. “I’m still gonna say everything will be fine.”

“I know.” Cirrus hung her head, ears drooping. “But it won’t be.”

“Come on…” Lazuli’s tail wrapped tightly around her wife’s, holding her as close as she could and pressing her nose into her cheek. “There’s…gotta be positives, right?”

“Positives?” Cirrus turned her head in Lazuli’s general direction. “What positives, Laz? What possible positives could there be?” Her voice raised, making Lazuli’s ears pin back a bit.

“Uh, I was just- I…I don’t know, but-“

“That’s all you’ve been saying this whole week, Laz. It’ll all be fine, look on the bright side, there’ll be positives – there aren’t any, Lazuli. I’m blind.”

“I…I know, Cirrus, but-“

“But what?! What are you possibly going to say?! You’re just saying all this crap so you make yourself feel better!” Cirrus yelled.

Lazuli had been told that mood swings and personality shifts could be possible after a brain injury, so she was prepared for it, but…on some level, she felt like this wasn’t just the injury talking. Lazuli had been of virtually no help this whole time, aside from teaching her how to use a cane to walk, which in hindsight was not a very difficult thing to learn. “I’m…sorry…” She muttered.

“I am too. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I’m sorry you have to deal with me.”

“Honey, you know I don’t mean that-“

“But I can hear it.” Cirrus sniffed, tears starting to roll down her nose as her head hung forward again. Despite not being able to see, her tear ducts still worked. “That’s the only thing…I can do now…”

“Cirrus…” Lazuli tried to think of something to say…but she couldn’t. She lifted a hoof to place it on her shoulder, but she found that it was shaking too much. “I-I…”

“I’ve been trying to be positive, Laz.” Cirrus whimpered, her voice suddenly sounding more vulnerable than Lazuli had heard it be in years. “I…I guess…I just…I’m so used to you taking care of everything, I…never really thought there would be a time we both didn’t know what to do…”

“I-“ Lazuli again tried to think of something quick to say, something that would calm her, something that would remind her that she was still in the right state of mind to help – but again, nothing came. She just gritted her teeth, eyes clenched tight for a moment before she blinked away the tears. “I…”

“Just…stop.” Cirrus fumbled a bit as she reached to place her hoof on Lazuli’s thigh, laying her head down on her shoulder. “I know…you don’t know what to say…or what to do…”

“I-I…w-we…b…” Lazuli stammered, jaw clenching tighter. This whole week, she realized she had just been distracting herself from the fact that this was her wife’s life now, and she couldn’t even sympathize with it properly, because she had no idea what it was like to see nothing at all.

“Stop.” Cirrus said again, this time more firmly, but only by a slight amount. “…Please. I just…I just want to go home.”

Lazuli’s lip quivered, but she refused to cry again. Taking a deep, albeit shaky breath, she sat up and nodded. “…Okay.” She helped Cirrus to her hooves, assisting her in attaching the cane to her tail before helping to lead her to the lobby.

The house didn’t feel right.

It didn’t feel safe. It didn’t feel like home. The moment Lazuli opened the door, both of them hesitated, even though Cirrus couldn’t see the interior. Lazuli had spent some time rearranging the furniture back to normal, but even with it looking virtually the same as it always did, Lazuli just felt like it was…wrong.

Lazuli carefully helped Cirrus inside. The cane was a bit of a hazard to use indoors, so instead Lazuli helped to guide her around with her tail. Cirrus mentioned being hungry. Lazuli hadn’t eaten in half a day, but she didn’t feel hungry herself. She led Cirrus to the kitchen, gently settling her at the table and starting to take out utensils to make food.

“Does…does it all look the same?” Cirrus asked softly.

“Huh?” Lazuli turned her head. Cirrus was staring down at the table, though both of them supposed it didn’t matter where she looked.

“The house.” She mumbled back. “Does it look…the same?”

“It’s as close as I could get it.” Lazuli paused, placing a pan on the stove. “And…um…they took some of the kitchen appliances that had blood on them, but- I mean, um, not- the blood was-“

“It’s fine…” Cirrus hung her head a bit lower. “I get it.”

Lazuli watched her for a moment longer, quietly turning her head back to the stove, then back to Cirrus again. “Um…you want…pancakes? I know that’s, uh…your…favourite…”

“Sure.” Cirrus traced her hoof along the table.

Lazuli wordlessly got the ingredients together and started mixing. The whole process went in relative silence. The sound of cooking was the only real one to be heard, along with the occasional vehicle moving past the house.

“Laz?” Cirrus spoke up, and Lazuli turned her head away from the pan.

“Yeah?”

“When I…got um…you know…” Cirrus fumbled with her hooves, nervously wringing them together. “Did- did you…catch her?”

“I- wait, you mean…Ayize?”

“Yeah…her.”

“I…no, sweetie, but…I got her at the base, remember? The whole…attack, I told you about?”

“…Oh…” Cirrus gazed back down at the table. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Lazuli watched for a second longer with a concerned expression, using her tail to move the pan and flip the pancake – filled with chocolate chips, she remembered to add – and once it was ready, she slid it onto a plate.

She gently set the plate in front of her wife, along with a fork and butter knife. “Um…so do you need me to help-“

“I can do it myself.” Cirrus insisted, her green horns glowing dully and trying to focus on the utensils.

“Are- uh, are you…sure? They said it might be better if I help you-“

“I can do it myself.” Cirrus snapped, making Lazuli draw back slightly.

“…Okay…sorry…” Lazuli went back over to the stove to clean the pan, the hiss of water hitting its hot surface making steam rise to the ceiling while she scrubbed it clean.

Lazuli had to close her eyes at one point, to try and block out the quiet sobs from the table. Cirrus was struggling – when she did dare to look, she watched as she managed to cut off a piece, then jabbed herself in the nose with a fork. It devolved from there, turning into an angry stabbing of the poor fresh pastry before Cirrus laid her head down on the table and sobbed into her hooves.

“C-“ Lazuli’s voice caught in her throat, her eyes tearing up at the sight. “Cirrus, I-I think I should help…”

“Go ahead.” Cirrus shoved the plate forward, narrowly avoiding pushing it off the table. Lazuli sat down at the table with her, using her limited levitation ability to help feed her. She could tell Cirrus was beyond defeated – having to be fed, like a foal who lacked the motor skills to hold a fork, was degrading to the point that she was crying even as she ate. Lazuli was trying not to make it obvious that she was as well. Both of them, Lazuli thought, must have looked a mess – but she couldn’t even joke about it to lessen the feeling of pathetic failure that weighed down the pit of her stomach.

“It’s- it’s only temporary…” Lazuli mumbled half-heartedly. “You’ll…get used to it, I’m sure…”

Cirrus didn’t say a word. Lazuli fed her, in silence, until the plate was empty and Cirrus was somewhat complacent. Her cheeks still ran with tears, and Lazuli did her best to wipe them away and more importantly comfort her, but something just felt different. No matter what Lazuli said, it didn’t bring Cirrus’ spirits back up.

It was only five in the afternoon, but Cirrus said she was tired and wanted to sleep. In all honesty, Lazuli needed to rest too…so she helped Cirrus up the stairs, into their bedroom, and gently laid her down on the bed.

Cirrus’ expression was blank. Lazuli liked to think she was good at reading her wife’s emotions, but now she was at a loss. Climbing into bed beside her, she felt Cirrus suddenly wrap her legs around her, adding her wings into the mix at the same time. Lazuli felt her bury her face in her chest, and from there she simply broke down.

Lazuli’s chest physically ached, hearing the sounds of anguish coming from her wife. Cirrus sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder, a week’s worth of pent-up frustration and sorrow pouring into Lazuli’s fur. Lazuli winced as she felt Cirrus’ horns poke at her chin, but she just gently stroked at Cirrus’ back to help calm her down. She was at a complete loss for words. Nothing she could say would help, and nothing she could do would be enough right now. She just let Cirrus let it all out, in hopes that it would help her sleep.

And, at the very least, it did. Lazuli waited nearly twenty minutes for her crying to turn into a dull, barely audible whimper, then a much quieter and more measured breathing. She slowly turned her head down, seeing that Cirrus’ eyes were closed, her muzzle still pressed firmly into Lazuli’s chest – so she gently shifted herself, lying on her side so she wasn’t putting all of her weight on her still healing wings, then allowed her own eyes to drift shut and at least attempt to allow sleep to overcome her.