Mal/MC Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This is one of the baron tier commissions.

The birth of a Gatekeeper often meant the death of another. It was a bittersweet occasion if one really thought about it. Because one individual had to die for another to live. It didn’t negate the potential that was created, nor did it erase the life that came before. For me, however, it was a day that I didn’t like to go unnoticed. When I had been a nebulous web of thoughts in the sky, I had often looked down on the anniversary of a Gatekeeper’s coming to power. I would try to make the lights shine a bit brighter. Warm the cobblestones a bit more. I never knew if my actions were noticed, but I tried to create peace on that day. I had done it for every Gatekeeper. Never before had I had a Gatekeeper that was no longer such, however. Malcolm was my anomaly.

Knocking on his door, I rocked back and forth on my feet. I didn’t know if he even remembered what day it was. It had been what felt like a lifetime ago and he had lost himself to the dead for a time. There was a possibility that this day didn’t even matter to him. But I wanted to acknowledge what he had done for the Night Market. Despite not having the powers of a Baron any longer, he still felt invaluable to this existence.

When the door opened, I grinned at him, rocking back and forth. “Surprise!”

He stared at me, not greeting me with his usual soft smile and gentle tones. It was as if he didn’t actually understand why I could be here. He seemed to snap out of right around the time my own smile started to falter, opening the door a little further and gesturing for me to step inside.

“Surprise?” he asked, ushering me in. 

“Yeah.” the door clicked shut behind me and I turned to him, a package in my hand. “I brought you a present.”

“It’s not my name day.”

“No, but it is the anniversary of something.” I was beginning to have that nervous coil in my stomach. Something wasn’t quite right. As I looked at Malcolm, there were bags under his eyes and his face had that pinched quality to it that I often times only saw when he was in pain. ‘“Are you– are you okay?”

He tried to soften his face as he stepped forward, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Yeah. Sorry. Just a bit tired. You said it was an anniversary? An us anniversary? Are we doing those?”

I hadn’t really thought about that, actually. There was no specific day in which Malcolm and I had declared ourselves to be together. I hadn’t really thought of the idea of an anniversary because of this.

“I mean, it’s kind of an us anniversary, I guess. But not in the traditional sense.”

I handed him the present, watching as he took it to the counter to unwrap the folds of thin paper. There were layers of greens and golds that I had woven together in a swirl, creating a nebula of rich earthen tones. It was what reminded me of Malcolm the most. As he finally peeled the paper away, it revealed a small lantern inside. It glowed faintly. With a delicate touch, he picked it up, holding it in front of him. It was round and had a tassel hanging from the bottom edge that I had woven another, smaller lantern within.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, Lamplight.” The lantern was eye level with him, and I hoped he could feel the warmth radiating from it.

“Okay, now I need to show you the best part.” 

Stepped forward, I sucked in a deep breath. The lantern pulsed with light and warmth, a soft amber glow emanating from it. Just like it had all those nights where he had lain on the rooftops and talked to me.

An unreadable expression crossed Malcolm’s face as he stared at it. The light from the little lantern was playing across each of his lines, seeming to highlight just how exhausted he really was.

“This way,” I told him softly, “even when I’m not here, if you need to talk to me, you still can. And I’ll hear you.”

Without a word, Malcolm walked to the corner of the room, hanging the small lantern by a hook that Hazel had installed for plants nearly two decades ago. The plant had died when Malcolm had and no one had bothered to replace it.  But now, the lantern took its spot, hanging perfectly near the window. It caught the enchanted light from the outer garden, reflecting the rays of false setting sun. At night, it would serve as a gentle light to help anchor him to home.

When he was done, he came back to me, wrapping me in his arms. “I became Gatekeeper today,” he whispered.

“You did.”

“Is that the anniversary we are celebrating?” There was a smile to his voice, but I could still feel it in his body. A weakness. Something strangely off.

With a frown, I pulled back, placing my hand on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache,” he muttered. But he leaned into my touch, trying to chase the comfort it offered.

Frowning, I led him to the sofa, getting him to sit down. He was looking worse and worse by the moment. “Only a headache?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “On the anniversary of a Gatekeepers ascension, there are just some – it’s not –” Sighing, he slumped back against me, the fight going out of him. “The day is painful. Headaches. Body aches. The works. It’s like the power is trying to renew itself, or maybe it's just a reminder of what we are. I don’t know. But it’s always been a day marked by a lot of pain. The same fever that burned through when the power first took shows back up again.”

“What?” I stared at him. I had no idea that had even been a thing. Then again, when I had looked down on my charges, it wasn’t like I had ever understood what pain truly was. Not then, at least.

“And this happens to all Gatekeepers?”

He nodded.

“Milo, too?”

Leaning his head against me, Malcolm sighed. “Yeah. His should be coming up soon. Probably be worse since he’s an actual Gatekeeper. Mine is some strange residual thing. Guess it never really leaves you.”

I wrapped my arms around Malcolm, pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa. Numbly, I situated him so he was resting against me, dimming the lights in the room with a flick of my fingers and blocking out the rays from the enchanted window. So many questions raced through my mine, the dominate one being, why no one had ever told me. But, now was not the time for it. Not with the way the vein above Malcolm’s brow was twitching in pain.

“Well, I’m glad I’m here then,” I told him softly. “I’ll take care of you today.”

His eyes were already closed. “I’m sorry this didn’t turn out like you wanted it to. Next year, maybe we can plan for it and–”

I cut him off with a small hush. “Malcolm, let me do this, okay? We can talk about it all when you feel better. Right now, just rest.”

His body was heavy against mine. It sagged against me, his hand coming up to weakly rest on my shoulder. I felt my heartache for him then and vowed to hold him for as long as he needed.

As Malcolm drifted off to sleep, I looked towards the corner of the room where the lantern hung. Running my fingers through his hair, I made that lantern shine bright, filling the room with soft lighting and comfort. Against me, Malcolm sighed in his sleep. And white I was sure it had not fixed everything, he relaxed further against me. 

I kept the light glowing for him all night.