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?"
Oh, Jill. He looks down at her slender fingers wrapped around his and feels glad that things did not go even more perilously worse than they already have.
"I never needed to give that a second thought," he says, meeting her eyes. "Of course I forgive you, just as I accept yours."
It would be easy to rebuff that; he’s a Shield, he doesn’t need protection from anyone. But she deserves it, and she’s earned his trust there, time and time again.
“Thank you, my love.” He bumps his nose against hers. “We should go home.”
It is wonderful. The gloominess in him feels a little further away, and as he gets to his feet, he wonders if things could really be better. If he could dare to hope again, really hope.
“I think I’ll sleep very well tonight,” he says. “I hope you will too.”
His words surprise her, but in a delightful way. It's been a good day together. She wishes for countless more.
"I'm sure I will. Are you planning on hunting tonight?" She hopes not. She cherishes evenings together, sitting at the table and sharing a meal with Joshua and Clive as if it's always been this way. She enjoys saying goodnight to Joshua, knowing he's safe. And she finds peace in sharing a bed with Clive, knowing it brings them both comfort.
That’s a trickier subject. He’d like to be home, more than anything. Even the idea of stepping out to clear his mind and lose himself in the tension of battle is unappealing, and that’s a rare thing. More time with his family is important.
But he has to take care of them, too. He gives her a rueful little smile.
“I will stay in tonight,” he says. “But tomorrow… I need to keep food on the table, and a roof over our heads.”
Though the bump feels playful, he finds himself hesitating. He does not relish the idea of putting Jill or Joshua in the way of the monsters here, even if they have faced worse. Both are fragile. Both have pushed themselves past what they ought to.
"I could," he says. "In time. Perhaps when he's had more time to recover."
“You understand,” he says, relieved. “I would very much like to spend more time with you both, As much as possible. But perhaps there are better times for that.”
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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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"I never needed to give that a second thought," he says, meeting her eyes. "Of course I forgive you, just as I accept yours."
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Maybe he need not know all the details.
"If you can forgive so easily, so can he."
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"I hope so."
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"I'll protect you." Even if by simply explaining to Joshua herself what happened between her and Clive, without anger.
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“Thank you, my love.” He bumps his nose against hers. “We should go home.”
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A sweet, affectionate kiss is dropped on the tip of his nose when she tips her face up.
"Let's go home, Clive. Joshua may be waiting for us."
What a wonderful thing to be able to say.
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It is wonderful. The gloominess in him feels a little further away, and as he gets to his feet, he wonders if things could really be better. If he could dare to hope again, really hope.
“I think I’ll sleep very well tonight,” he says. “I hope you will too.”
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"I'm sure I will. Are you planning on hunting tonight?" She hopes not. She cherishes evenings together, sitting at the table and sharing a meal with Joshua and Clive as if it's always been this way. She enjoys saying goodnight to Joshua, knowing he's safe. And she finds peace in sharing a bed with Clive, knowing it brings them both comfort.
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But he has to take care of them, too. He gives her a rueful little smile.
“I will stay in tonight,” he says. “But tomorrow… I need to keep food on the table, and a roof over our heads.”
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"You could invite us to accompany you," she says, lightly bumping his shoulder with her own. "Torgal isn't the only one that remembers how to fight."
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"I could," he says. "In time. Perhaps when he's had more time to recover."
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Even if they're perfectly capable.
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"And when you're out hunting, I hope you know Joshua and I will be looking out for one another."
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Intrusive thought: how will she go out to meet other men, like this? He shakes it off mentally.
“Where else will we take him?”
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