Work Text:
Renard was strong, for lack of better terms. She could play 90 minutes of active defending without collapsing into the ice baths afterwards and was one of the key motivators in the gym or out on the training pitch.
She was mentally strong, too; the Diacre problem was evidence of that. Sometimes she was too mentally strong for her own good, leading to her pushing away help when she did need it.
For years, the Lyon players had gotten used to all that strength from their captain, especially on the pitch. In the rare case she did get fouled, she always managed to get back up again. So when Renard went and stayed down almost on her own against Fleury, panic swept around the Lyon squad.
Renard was a tough cookie. She never stayed down unless it was impossible to get up. That’s what scared Ellie Carpenter so much as she ran to where her captain had fallen.
“What happened?” Carpenter yelled over the increasing din in the stadium. At least she wasn’t the only one freaking out; she could already see Hegerberg and Diani running towards them. Bathy nervously watched on, and she probably would’ve come over too if Endler wasn’t holding her back. “Is it cramp?”
Renard nodded tersely, glancing up at the clock on the side of the stadium. “It can’t be cramped, it’s only been nineteen minutes.”
Oh, this wasn’t good. This was not good at all. “Will you be—”
“Shh, it'll be fine. It can’t be that bad.” Renard winced as the medics touched her face, prodding it in every direction and manner. “Ellie, you've got to keep playing, okay? You'll be fine, everyone will be okay.”
Carpenter hesitated, then nodded. She thought Renard’s injury looked worse than she was letting on, but Renard had been around for years. “You’re coming back soon?”
“Exactly. Now go back to Daan and tell her that we're changing our right-wing system. Vanessa will need some help in the defence, so you'll drop back a bit while Daan takes the reins on the attack.”
The lead medic finished examining her, frowning. “Your face is looking swollen. You're going to need scans, we might have a muscle tear on our hands.”
“Are you serious?!” Carpenter glared at Renard, something she seldom did. “You said that you'll be alright, and now ‘we might have a tear on our hands’?”
Renard didn’t answer but gritted her teeth together as the medics probed the afflicted area, trying to adjudicate the severity of her injury. She glanced over her shoulder and turned back to Carpenter.
“Ellie Madison Carpenter, I am being as serious as I will ever be. Get Griedge now, and then go back and tell the others what I told you.”
Carpenter was used to hearing Renard be all stern and captain-like, but this was different from anything she’d heard before. It didn’t feel right at all. “Right away.”
*
As she walked off the pitch, Renard gave directions to everybody else, including her replacement, Gilles. Other than that, she had remained silent as she made her way past the substitutes bench, through the tunnel, and into the interior of the Stade Robin-Bobert.
She allowed herself to space out as the medics continued their examinations and diagnoses. It had only been nineteen minutes, not even eighty or ninety minutes, and she’d already gotten injured. And she rarely played a full game anymore—Bompastor always made sure that she substituted her as early as possible, to give ample time to the other centre-backs and avoid injuries. Injuries, like the one she’d gotten today.
For heaven’s sake, you’re not even thirty-four yet. Marta’s thirty-eight and she’s one of Orlando Pride’s main players, and she’s not even the oldest player you’ve played against before.
The medics finished examining her and started talking among themselves, leaving the room one by one. That left Renard to her own devices, which to her was worse than being poked around by medics.
“Wendie, thank goodness!” Bathy burst into the room, closing the door behind her. “The boss is holding off the others with her team talk, so it’s just the two of us now. We conceded, but Damaris pulled the score back to one each. I think we’re getting closer to scoring, even though Ellie’s had to drop back some more to help out Vanessa and me.”
Bathy slowed down, taking another look around the room as if she’d forgotten where she was. “Is it bad?”
Renard didn’t answer. “How are the others?”
“They’re worried. Like I am, mon ange. ” Bathy took her girlfriend’s hands and held them in hers, squeezing them as she took a seat. “What’s on your mind?”
Renard chuckled bitterly, averting eye contact. “How much time have you got? Because I assure you, there is a lot.”
“I’ll bet there is. That’s why I stopped by.” Bathy paused, taking a breath before going on. “You know, we’re a talented squad. Right now we have Ada, Amel and Kadi in attack, and Tiane in goal. We have Alice and Dszeni, and we’re still missing a bunch of others. They can do far more than hold their own.”
“As I’ve seen many times before, watching from the bench.”
“We’re still going to miss you.”
“The other girls, or you?”
“All of us.”
"I won't be gone forever, you know."
Bathy nodded, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I know, but it won't be the same without you on the pitch. You're our captain and our leader."
Renard smiled wistfully. "Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Besides the pitch, anyways
There was a knock on the door, and Renard turned to see the team doctor entering the room. "Wendie, we're going to need to send you for scans. It looks like you have a more serious injury than we initially thought."
Renard closed her eyes, bracing herself for the news. "How long will I be out for?"
"It's hard to say until we get the results of the scans, but it could be a few weeks at least," the doctor replied. “Maybe even a month and a half, who knows? But you’ll be back, I swear.”
“You’d better be back, or we’re creamed in the Champions League.” Bathy joked as the doctor left the room. "We've still got to play Ada’s sister and her team, and the rest of the group. And then we have the cup to play, and the rest of the league season.”
And the rest of the league season. The long-term implications sank in as the hall bell rang, calling the players to prepare for the second half.
*
Renard watched the rest of the match from the screen in the medic’s room. It hadn’t even been a full hour yet since, and she was already going stir-crazy from not being out there on the pitch. Hegerberg put Lyon in front two minutes after the second half started, which eased her nerves a little, but two goals to one was still a very close score. One slip-up could cause a calamity, especially this early in the season.
That’s the Law of Lyon. Win the Trophée des Championnes, stay unbeaten until February, get to at least the semifinals of the UCL, and win the league. Anything else is a failure.
“You’re thinking a lot.” Bathy appeared out of nowhere, closing the door behind her. “Bompastor just subbed me out for Alice. We’re winning two-one, but you probably already know that.”
Renard stared at Bathy in surprise. “Sonia let you leave the field early?”
“She said she could see me thinking about you from the sidelines. But I think she’s worried about you. You don't take injuries well."
Renard shrugged. "What can I say? I like to be useful."
"You like to be active. If I hear you insinuate that you're useless one more time..." Bathy paused, her smile slowly morphing into a smirk. "I'll stuff your gym bag with little motivational notes."
Despite the pain, Renard smiled back. That was the story of their relationship, after all. "Those are so corny that you could ship them off to a factory and make them into crisps."
“You love them.”
“I don’t. But I love you.”
“I think we can agree on that.”