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She moves her fingers just enough to grasp his.

"I don't know if anyone has ever had that."

That pessimism surprises him and saddens him at once.

“Well, then,” he says. “When we can imagine ourselves married and having babies and growing old together once more.”

But he still, he thinks, doesn’t want to be afraid.

Jill frowns. Married and having babies and growing old together...

"Are you afraid I'll change my mind about that?" She asks, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“No,” he says, reluctant to argue. “But it would not be wise to dream of it until we have found peace together again.”

It hurts to hear but he's right. Jill swallows and nods.

"I want peace between us more than anything," she says. "I want to be the person you trusted to be by your side through anything once more, like in Valisthea."

“I want that too.” He nods seriously. He pauses, swallowing his breath. “Perhaps I take you on a date later this week? We can start there.”

"I'd like that. Very much," she adds. She misses their time together, the little dates they began to have once they were on the mend. Strange to feel like they're starting from the beginning again.

"But we can all have dinner together tomorrow night."

Two steps forward, one step back.

“I’d like dinner together as well,” he says. “I know Joshua would appreciate it as well.”

He would. It was his request, after all.

"This month has been terrible, but he at least seems to be doing well, doesn't he?" She asks, hoping Clive doesn't know something she doesn't. She's spent some nights with him, keeping them both company. He's strong, even in the face of horrific revelations.

“He’s of sturdier spirit than body, certainly,” he says. He lets go of her hand gently, and crosses the room to get pajamas for her. “We talked that night, and he hasn’t expressed any anger with me since.”

"I'm glad," she says, hand curling at her side in his absence. "He loves you very much. He wishes for your peace and happiness."

Joshua reacted better than she did.

“I know,” Clive says, pulling out a night dress for her, a touch of discomfort on his voice. “But I’m sure our trust is broken as well, or at least his in me.”

Jill steps towards him to take the night dress.

"He understands," she reassures. "From what he's said to me, I can say that with certainty."

Of all the bonds damaged that night, she thinks Joshua and Clive's suffered the least.

He hands it to her.

“I believe you,” he says. “And him. But if he thinks me ill-prepared and fearful, he cannot trust me as his Shield.”

She turns it over to find the bottom, holding her breath as she pulls it on over her head. It makes her arm burn, but it's done and over with in a moment and a hard press of her lips together to keep quiet.

"His concern is for his brother, not his Shield."

“I know,” he says, stepping in to help but leaving her to it. “But I still want to be his Shield just the same. I can be both.”

Jill looks at him before taking both his hands in hers.

"You are. You are both, and he could have no better. Nothing will make Joshua think any less of you in either role. You put too much pressure on yourself."

He always has, and look where it's gotten him.

He lets her have his hands, gaze dropping.

“That may be,” he says. “But I never wanted him to know how broken I am.”

She knows. He says broken as if it's some fatal condition.

"Those that love you most are the ones that will help piece you back together," she says, digging deep to sound hopeful. Easier to do for him than for herself. She swallows down the lump of guilt in her throat because she hasn't been around to help put anyone back together, lately. "I know he would prefer you as you are, however broken you may think you are, so he can be there for you."

It feels terminal. There is no unringing the bell of his existence, his terrible history, the ugliness of his past.

“I know,” he says. He doesn’t like it at all, but he knows it to be true. “It’s just the embarrassment, to be seen weakened.”

"You've hauled us onto our feet plenty without thinking less of us. You must let us do the same for you, and trust that we only feel glad to be given the opportunity to do so. To help you," she says, and she sounds more like herself to her own ears.

She holds his hands tighter.

It would be so easy to sweep her off her feet and tuck her into bed and wrap himself around her until the despair passes, but there is distance to be maintained, and so he must hold fast to her hands and endure.

“I should trust in that,” he says. “Thank you, Jill. I promise to share more when I have the strength to.”

How desperately she wishes he would do just that. She wants to comfort him, and the words feel hollow without him in her arms.

"I believe in you, Clive. That won't change." She believes in his good heart, even if hurt and anger can cloud it.

He nods, and gives her hands a squeeze.

“Thank you,” he says. A pause. “It’s late. You need rest, as do I. I’ll put your bike in the garage and we’ll see each other in the morning.”

She looks at him. She doesn't want him to go, but she's the one that sent him to the basement, this time. She runs her thumbs over his skin before letting go of his hands.

She has no right to go back and forth on a whim. It's unfair to him.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she tells him. "And... I look forward to our date."

Something to look forward to for the both of them, she hopes.

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rosarianoath - 2024-08-02 20:29 (UTC) - Expand