Dejah Thoris (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dejah_thoris) wrote2015-10-27 11:21 am
dejah_thoris) wrote2015-10-27 11:21 am
Entry tags:
Midnight in the Jeddak's Garden
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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?"
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?"
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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.
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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?"
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Curtis draws his thumb across her cheek in a slow caress. "We'll get better at it."
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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?
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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.
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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.
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"I want your permission to talk to him."
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(So much for not thinking about Edgar.)
"What are you going to say?"
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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.)
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"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.
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"Then I'll find a way to make him listen. With -- your permission."
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"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.
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The words radiate with her determination. She wants to do her best. For both of them.
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As far as he's concerned, that is the whole truth.
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"He might have heard, but I can't begin to believe he understood. What happened to you. What happened to all of you in those first weeks. He knows only that you knew the truth, and you didn't trust him enough to share it with him."
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There's nothing to understand. No deeper meaning to unravel. What happened is exactly what Curtis said happened.
"Dunno if he's going to listen." Barely audible, and more defeated than not. "But if you wanna try, sure."
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"I will try. I might fail, but I must try."
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But she wants to help -- needs to help, somehow -- and Curtis can't deny her that. She can take anything Edgar tries to throw at her.
They reach the portal, at last. Curtis pokes one foot through and breathes a sigh of relief as he feels the gravity shift back to normal.
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She tugs on his shirt gently, and steps in close, stealing a soft, chaste kiss.
And when it breaks, she leads him to the bed and lies down with him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Tomorrow is another day.