Outside the store, in the anonymous bustle of the mall, Clive pauses and turns to her, briefly stooping to plant a kiss on her lips, quick and sure. He has no free hand with which to cup her cheek or stroke her face, but he lingers after it breaks off, nose against hers. Then he’s serious again, eyes ahead.
It's enough for her to feel that, for at least one moment, she has the Clive that hasn't been broken by Origin. She savors it as long as she can before it passes.
The walk home isn't very long, but as they exit the mall and head down the streets towards home, she breaks their comfortable silence. Something has been on her mind ever since Joshua came back into their lives. Perhaps even before Requiem.
"Do you realize that you're allowed to be happy, Clive?"
Once, he soothed her guilt for enjoying a day together and the simple pleasures of warm, fresh bread. But he often fails to apply the same kindness to himself. Especially now.
Their bags swing at his side, and the breeze outside is crisp and warm and real compared to the recirculated air indoors. He listens to her question with a pit in his stomach and a tension in his joints that makes him want to run very far, very fast, and not look back. But he isn't a runner, not from questions he's asked himself before, and especially not from the woman he wants by his side.
He is quiet for a long moment, fingers still wound around hers.
"I want to feel as though I am. And I do, sometimes."
Jill knows him well enough to know he hates that she asks. It makes her all the more appreciative when he answers, and her thumb rubs his warm skin. She loves and misses the Clive she knew before Origin, and she loves this Clive, too. Even as she learns more about him.
"Sometimes?" She asks, tipping her head curiously.
He knew he'd have to elaborate. He will, for her sake.
"When we spend time together, and there's a smile on your face," he explains, "everything else melts away, and I love my own life as much as I love you."
A part of her wonders if he says that for lack of a better answer. In the next moment she feel awful for thinking such a thing, and holds his hand tighter. No. She wants to believe him, and so she shall. She has to trust him.
"... in Valisthea, that's how I always felt with you," she tells him. So, she understands. "Whenever I was by your side, I could imagine some sort of future."
And while she never could have imagined this city, the life here has so much of what she hoped for: family and home and new things to experience.
"Don't be so quick to give up on the here and now, Clive." This sort of counts as their next life, anyway.
"We will face upset and pain soon. That's inevitable, once Joshua knows what happened. But we can come back from that. We've done it time and time again, haven't we?"
While chipping away at their hearts and souls. Clive's have taken the hardest hits.
"Somehow?" Jill stops walking. "Clive... it will not be the battle you think it is. He will think you mad for looking for forgiveness when there's nothing to forgive."
And Joshua will give it anyway, if that's what Clive needs.
"I don't think anything between you and Joshua or myself needs to be earned."
Clive pauses. When Joshua had punched him, he'd fallen to the ground not from the impact but from the shock; how had he failed his brother so miserably that he'd felt the need to strike sense into him that way?
"All the more reason to have them. I don't want you convincing yourself of things that are untrue." Getting himself so twisted he pushes away those that love him most. Not again.
"Joshua will see that despite what happened, you and I still care for one another. He will understand."
He's quiet again for a long moment, tempted to just keep walking. He sighs.
"He was angry that I took Shiva," he says, finally. "Far and beyond any anger I felt from you, at the time. I've never seen him so furious as that day."
She thinks his main concern will be Clive, and that he was in such a state he thought it best to push Jill away.
"And I will tell him that you and I are..." She trails off, trying to find the right words. "We're finding ourselves again. I forgive you for what happened in the winter."
She thinks of it often, but she has a better understanding of why things went so badly so quickly.
"You needed a stronger partner, then. One that didn't ignore signs."
He watches her apprehensively as she looks for a description of them, and what follows hurts and heals at once. He wishes it was more. He’s relieved she forgives him at all.
“We don’t have to talk about it if it isn’t the right time,” he says. “But I understand why you acted the way you did, and appreciate that you tried so hard to care for me. You shouldn’t have needed to read signs to determine what I was thinking.”
She has vivid memories of standing before him in a park, barely able to look at him, bristling when be tried to talk. Not considering that such a thing didn't come easily to him.
There's a nearby bench and few people around, and so Jill tugs him towards it.
"You were hurting and I was happy to pretend all was well." Play as man and wife--as much as that hurt her to hear back then, he wasn't entirely wrong. "The person I am now would have treated you differently. I had to learn."
Learn patience, and how truly terrible Origin was for them all. Of course his hurt touched every part of his life, even the good within his grasp.
He follows her, happy to be under her hand. He’d been so sure back then that leaving her was the only way to save her from the vortex of his grief, and the seemingly impossible tangle of his guilt. How fortunate he is that she decided to grow with him.
“I wish I’d asked for your help much sooner,” he says, a little mournful. He’s been robbed of so much time in his life, but seldom because of his own choices. “But what matters is to have you now.”
They both made their mistakes, heartache blinding them. As they sit, Jill takes his hand in both of hers. He is her treasure. Forever and always.
"I'm still sorry I didn't fight harder for you," she says. It was easier to be hurt and insulted and angry without examining what drove him to leave her. "Are we both forgiven, Clive?"
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"We will. In the end... we'll be all right. I know we will."
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Outside the store, in the anonymous bustle of the mall, Clive pauses and turns to her, briefly stooping to plant a kiss on her lips, quick and sure. He has no free hand with which to cup her cheek or stroke her face, but he lingers after it breaks off, nose against hers. Then he’s serious again, eyes ahead.
“I promise.”
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The walk home isn't very long, but as they exit the mall and head down the streets towards home, she breaks their comfortable silence. Something has been on her mind ever since Joshua came back into their lives. Perhaps even before Requiem.
"Do you realize that you're allowed to be happy, Clive?"
Once, he soothed her guilt for enjoying a day together and the simple pleasures of warm, fresh bread. But he often fails to apply the same kindness to himself. Especially now.
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He is quiet for a long moment, fingers still wound around hers.
"I want to feel as though I am. And I do, sometimes."
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"Sometimes?" She asks, tipping her head curiously.
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"When we spend time together, and there's a smile on your face," he explains, "everything else melts away, and I love my own life as much as I love you."
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"... in Valisthea, that's how I always felt with you," she tells him. So, she understands. "Whenever I was by your side, I could imagine some sort of future."
And while she never could have imagined this city, the life here has so much of what she hoped for: family and home and new things to experience.
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"If only we were free to exist that way all the time. I want to believe we can, someday. If not in this life, then in another."
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"We will face upset and pain soon. That's inevitable, once Joshua knows what happened. But we can come back from that. We've done it time and time again, haven't we?"
While chipping away at their hearts and souls. Clive's have taken the hardest hits.
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“We will come back,” he agrees. “Somehow… I’ll earn his forgiveness, and then think on how to be happy.”
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And Joshua will give it anyway, if that's what Clive needs.
"I don't think anything between you and Joshua or myself needs to be earned."
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“He will forgive me for my failures,” he says. “But he will be angry when he learns what I’ve done to you.”
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"His anger will be breif."
They're much better than they were.
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"But he will be angry."
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And it has passed, for the most part.
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"Joshua will see that despite what happened, you and I still care for one another. He will understand."
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"He was angry that I took Shiva," he says, finally. "Far and beyond any anger I felt from you, at the time. I've never seen him so furious as that day."
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"He should have spoken to me before getting angry with you," she says.
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"And I will tell him that you and I are..." She trails off, trying to find the right words. "We're finding ourselves again. I forgive you for what happened in the winter."
She thinks of it often, but she has a better understanding of why things went so badly so quickly.
"You needed a stronger partner, then. One that didn't ignore signs."
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“We don’t have to talk about it if it isn’t the right time,” he says. “But I understand why you acted the way you did, and appreciate that you tried so hard to care for me. You shouldn’t have needed to read signs to determine what I was thinking.”
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There's a nearby bench and few people around, and so Jill tugs him towards it.
"You were hurting and I was happy to pretend all was well." Play as man and wife--as much as that hurt her to hear back then, he wasn't entirely wrong. "The person I am now would have treated you differently. I had to learn."
Learn patience, and how truly terrible Origin was for them all. Of course his hurt touched every part of his life, even the good within his grasp.
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“I wish I’d asked for your help much sooner,” he says, a little mournful. He’s been robbed of so much time in his life, but seldom because of his own choices. “But what matters is to have you now.”
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"I'm still sorry I didn't fight harder for you," she says. It was easier to be hurt and insulted and angry without examining what drove him to leave her. "Are we both forgiven, Clive?"
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