Midnight in the Jeddak's Garden

[dejah_thoris]

 [cont'd from here]

She holds him through the worst of it.  Holds him and rocks him gently, her mind racing to come up with some kind of solution, any solution.  There isn't one, she knows.  She can feel his agony as if it were her own, and in a way, it is now, isn't it?  She feels the tears on her cheeks and lets them fall.  Grief is the strongest enemy she's ever vanquished.

But she's done it before, and she knows she can do it again.

She doesn't know how long they've been sitting there when she notices a telltale ripple in the air.  It's just inches above the wood of her door.  It takes a moment to resolve, and before it does, she recognizes the portal and knows where it opens to.  She can smell the pimalias and the blessed cool of the moss trees beyond.  The night sky above Helium is crystal clear.

Gingerly she urges his gaze up.  Her voice is gentle and warm.  "Hey.  Can you smell that?"

Comments

[2goodarms]

"Mm-hm."

He draws in a slow lungful of air as her fingers find the back of his neck, then catches her mouth in an equally slow kiss. When it breaks, he adds, barely a breath across her lips, "Crazy idea, I know."

[dejah_thoris]

She doesn't open her eyes, just stays still, close to him, breathing him in. Her fingers return to scribing gentle circles in the short scruff of his hair.

"But what if I like the fighting part, too?"

[2goodarms]

"Well..."

He draws out the word, lets it fade, and leans his forehead against hers as he closes his eyes.

Serene, "I guess we could arrange for a couple good fights then."

Or more than a couple.

[dejah_thoris]

"Just for appearances, of course." She brushes her nose against his, nuzzling just a little. It feels indulgent, but she doesn't care.

She needs this right now. She needs him.

[2goodarms]

His smile grows. "Oh, yeah. Can't have anybody thinking you're going soft."

Curtis winds his fingers in her hair, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

[dejah_thoris]

She tips her head to the side, lifting her chin ever so slightly. His fingertips in her hair elicits the softest moan.

"Can't... have that." Words. Failing.

[2goodarms]

Quiet as it may be, the sound pushes a shiver down his spine. God, he loves making her do that.

It's just the two of them up here, as far as he knows. She wouldn't have brought him here with so little warning otherwise. Curtis restrains himself anyway, moving back to her mouth, gently running his hand along her hair as he keeps kissing her. It's not a fire; it's more like candlelight, a soft glow kindled to keep back the darkness.

[dejah_thoris]

He's being so gentle with her, so perfectly, excruciatingly gentle with her. He kisses her and she can't help but let a little of her hunger slip. She deepens the kiss, unable to contain throaty sighs. She twists in his arms until she can wrap both arms around his neck, her hands curling around his head so she can drink deep and long from his sweet mouth.

They're all alone up here. And she is weak.

[2goodarms]

His breath's considerably sharper, more swift this time. Curtis tightens his hold on Dejah, unable to keep from responding to her urgency.

And normally he'd welcome it, but abruptly, it's like sandpaper on an open wound -- too much to handle after being so overloaded by what happened with Edgar. He breaks away, tries to catch his breath, wraps his arms around her as he rests his head on her shoulder.

It's harder some days than others, reconnecting with the pieces of himself he tried to discard. The ones that still worry and say too much, too much, because the last time something was too much and Curtis couldn't pull himself back, it ended in blood and death.

[dejah_thoris]

She curls around him, her own breath quick and shallow. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[2goodarms]

He shakes his head, just a little. "Don't be," he whispers. "It's okay."

He'll be okay in a minute.

[dejah_thoris]

"I never want you to feel -- Curtis..."

Dejah clenches her eyes shut and holds him tight.

Beholden. She never wants him to feel like an object. Or like he owes her something. She feels as if her desire for him is pure. Something holy, almost. And she never, not for a single moment, wants him to feel anything less for her.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" Again, that small voice emerges. The one he rarely hears from her. The one that betrays how vulnerable she really is.

[2goodarms]

"Yeah, of course."

He sounds faintly bewildered that she's even asking. Curtis raises his head so he can look her in the eye; one hand finds her cheek, cradling it with the same gentleness.

"I don't..." He swallows as he picks his way through the words. "I don't want you to have to hold back what you're feeling. Sometimes I gotta stop, but that doesn't mean -- "

He doesn't want her to stop burning for his sake.

[dejah_thoris]

She nods, still holding his gaze. She could lose days staring into his gorgeous eyes. "It's all right."

She takes a deep, shaky breath. The past few days have been utterly exhausting, and her will power has suffered. Her hand covers his at her cheek and she nuzzles against his palm.

"Our timing," she says, her lips slanting in a sad smile. "It needs work, doesn't it?"

[2goodarms]

He chokes on a small laugh. "A little bit."

Curtis draws his thumb across her cheek in a slow caress. "We'll get better at it."

[dejah_thoris]

Looking into her eyes, he feels the pulse of warmth his touch elicits. Her eyes drift shut and she nods again.

After a long moment, she looks up at the stars and sighs. "You need to get some rest, my love." The unspoken question hangs between her words. Sleep here or in the bar?

[2goodarms]

It's his turn to nod. He catches her hands between both of his, squeezing lightly.

Another long, bad day buoyed up a little at the very end. Curtis doesn't feel as painfully adrift as when Dejah found him: he can look forward to something new, something good they'll be building together. And Edgar --

He'll just have to not think about Edgar for a little while. That's all.

"Let's go back?" he whispers.

It's a shorter walk to Milliways, and a familiar bed -- their bed, now? -- waits at the end of it.

[dejah_thoris]

"Good plan," she answers, gently standing and offering him a hand up. "Take it easy this time. You don't want to end up in a low orbit."

[2goodarms]

Curtis snorts out a tiny laugh. "Yeah," he deadpans as he takes Dejah's hand. "Might be harder to sleep there."

Okay. If he doesn't push on his feet, and just kind of...levers himself up with his legs alone, that should -- ? Yeah, that works. Okay.

(He is definitely going to look into getting five-hundred-pound shoes from Bar soon.)

Trying not to default to the awkward shuffle of before, they make their way back toward the shimmering outline that leads to Dejah's room.

[dejah_thoris]

They take a slow pace, and she's fine with that. She lays her head on his shoulder and works their hands closer together.

"I want your permission to talk to him."

[2goodarms]

Curtis drifts to a halt. It's not difficult, considering how slow they're moving.

(So much for not thinking about Edgar.)





"What are you going to say?"

[dejah_thoris]

"I just -- I want to try to help him understand. I don't know."

He can hear the twisted notes of distress in her voice. She cares so much for him. And for Edgar as well. She only wants to help. She feels like she needs to do something to help. (And yes, a part of her feels this is all her fault, which is silly, she knows. But there it is.)

[2goodarms]

He hears, and god, it makes his heart ache, dull and heavy.

"I don't..." His voice hits a snag. Curtis swallows to try and clear it away. "I don't know if he's gonna listen. To either of us."

Dejah was out there, too, when Edgar heard everything. And she was the one Curtis chose to tell instead of Edgar.

[dejah_thoris]

She hesitates, feeling the weight and the darkness engulf him again. She squeezes his hands between hers.

"Then I'll find a way to make him listen. With -- your permission."

[2goodarms]

A beat passes. Slowly, Curtis nods.

"Just don't be too hard on him?"

He manages to get out the entire sentence without his voice cracking, though it feels like it's going to wobble loose at a couple points. He can still feel the echo of that awful, trapped sensation Edgar radiated, strong enough that it turned a barely audible go away into a deafening shout.