"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 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.”
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.
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."
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."
"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.
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.”
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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"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.
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Joshua reacted better than she did.
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"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.
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“I believe you,” he says. “And him. But if he thinks me ill-prepared and fearful, he cannot trust me as his Shield.”
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"His concern is for his brother, not his Shield."
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"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.
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“That may be,” he says. “But I never wanted him to know how broken I am.”
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"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."
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“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.”
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She holds his hands tighter.
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“I should trust in that,” he says. “Thank you, Jill. I promise to share more when I have the strength to.”
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"I believe in you, Clive. That won't change." She believes in his good heart, even if hurt and anger can cloud it.
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“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.”
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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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“Any time, Jill,” he says, softly. “I’ll let you know when and where.”