"I shall not consider it healed until your skin is entirely unblemished," he replies, but he's fussy and he knows it; a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"I can't say I'll endeavor to fall more often, but I can think of more ways to keep you busy. I can think of several garden projects that have been forgotten since Joshua's arrival," she jokes softly. Anything to keep him from the basement.
She lifts her head just in time to see that smile. It's so sweet on his face that for a moment, she forgets the cottage entirely. They're in their own world.
"I'd appreciate it," she says. "Injured as I am..."
"Though I cannot claim to have your green thumb," he says, reaching for her chin with his free hand, holding her face towards him for a long, loving second, and then gently letting it go. Some space must be maintained. "I will gladly lift whatever needs lifting, and haul whatever needs hauling."
When he holds her chin, she feels so drawn to kiss him that she nearly does. One moment more and she would have done it, even if she knows she should not. It leaves her looking a little dazed, and she quietly clears her throat.
Their meal is going to be agony.
"That's all I need," she replies, giving his knee a squeeze. "That, and company."
"Especially since I've missed yours," she must say, with a little tip of her head. She's missed Dion's, too. Torgal is likely tired of her having full conversations with him.
This close to her, it's hard not to feel guilty about already inviting her into his arms. He can't claim to want distance if he does this, but not holding her and seeing her upset face feels like a dagger in his side. He swallows his breath.
"I don't know either," he said. "But I can't help but feel we talked more before we made love. We had to fill the silence somehow, even if we avoided anything complicated, everything hard. How can we expect our relationship to be steadfast when we are intimate in body and avoid the rest?"
"And how is that your fault?" She asks, voice gentle. Sitting this close seems to be of no consequence to her as she looks at him. "We were both there. Both given opportunity to steer conversations or start them. Just as we both could have pushed the other to speak to Joshua about Origin."
"At least as far as Joshua is concerned," he says, "I told you not to talk about him or Origin at all. I can't say how I might have reacted if you did push me, but I threw down the gauntlet first."
Another valid point. She lets out another slow breath, settling her head on his shoulder.
"I've never wished to hurt you by demanding details," she says. Oh, but it hurt her. Left to wonder and fill in the gaps and her imagination ran wild with horrible things. "It's nearly been a year since, now."
"Long enough that I've begun to doubt what I saw and felt, and what I have turned over in my mind too many times," he admits, but he moves right on: "I'm sorry, Jill. I shouldn't have put my pain first."
"Oh, Clive," she breathes out and drapes an arm over his middle, as much of a hug as she can manage in the back seat. "I understand why you did it. I could tell when you were thinking of Origin and what happened there. Only you know, and that is an unimaginable burden. To try and simply carry on, after that... it's impossible."
He turns his head away slightly, like looking out the window might dull the prick of tears in his eyes, but they're almost at the pier, and he has to just draw a long breath to pull himself together, his free hand laying overtop hers.
"I waited for death for a whole year," he says. "And I dragged you miserably through every minute of it."
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"That will take far too long and you know it well. I've never said as such to you, with your worse wounds."
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"Did you want help in the garden again? I would like to."
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"I'd appreciate it," she says. "Injured as I am..."
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Their meal is going to be agony.
"That's all I need," she replies, giving his knee a squeeze. "That, and company."
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“Company is easy enough.”
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"I've missed yours too. I'm sorry to have denied you it."
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Ever since they've had the freedom to be together as lovers, there's been so much turmoil.
"I don't know how to take it slowly."
Is this it?
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"I don't know either," he said. "But I can't help but feel we talked more before we made love. We had to fill the silence somehow, even if we avoided anything complicated, everything hard. How can we expect our relationship to be steadfast when we are intimate in body and avoid the rest?"
He trails for a beat, and adds:
"It's my fault."
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"I didn't test the waters very much, did I? I feel like I should have at least tried to approach it with you before things got as bad as they did."
Before Dion felt the need to charge ahead. Likely, Clive would have shut her down. Still, she can't help but have her regrets.
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"I've never wished to hurt you by demanding details," she says. Oh, but it hurt her. Left to wonder and fill in the gaps and her imagination ran wild with horrible things. "It's nearly been a year since, now."
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"I waited for death for a whole year," he says. "And I dragged you miserably through every minute of it."
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