EDGE
by
AstraPerAspera
He didn't see her at first. The gray stones in the moonlight cast unnaturally long shadows across the floor of the parapet, their shapes eerily like headstones laid out at his feet. Beyond he could see the nighttime panorama of the city, but it's light and the world it represented, the world that had been his before he'd come to this place, was as distant and inaccessible as a painting. He no longer belonged there. He knew that now. In truth, he'd never belonged there. Not since that day, so many years ago, when his life had ever so briefly touched hers. It had simply taken a couple dozen years for him to find his way home.
Or be found.
By the woman in the shadows, whom he could now see because a cloud had skittered in front of the moon and the shadows had faded and there she was, where he'd seen her the very first time he'd come up here and jokingly told her not to jump.
He was overcome with the same desire to repeat the warning, only this time without any inclination to jest. She was desperately close to the edge. Too close for his comfort.
He had no idea what it felt like to lose a child, but he had a child's memory of losing a mother and a fist-sized hole in his heart where Clara used to be; and he imagined if he took that grief and multiplied it a hundred thousand times he might begin to approach what Magnus was feeling.
Or not.
All he knew was that he'd never seen her like this before. Never seen her…vulnerable. These past few days as she'd chased shadow hope after shadow hope with an outward calmness that was almost eerie, he'd glimpsed her true fragility beneath. A brokenness he didn't begin to know how to fix.
Or even if he should.
And yet, for all that manic desperation that he'd tried to help her keep within the boundaries of rationality, the thing which had frightened him most hadn't been when she'd pushed on, against all reasonable logic.
It had been when she'd stopped.
Because Helen Magnus did not give up. And as much as he'd known that to encourage her in her quixotic quest was in no one's best interest, least of all hers, that moment of quiet acceptance had left him shaken. He'd seen that look before. Not on her. But on others. Usually as they were holding a gun to their own head.
Or standing on a ledge.
You have your whole life ahead of you.
He hadn't understood the irony then, even if she had. Now, though, it was nothing less than a cruel sentence of what must seem like her punishment. A life-penalty, with no hope of reprieve.
Unless.
The moon emerged from behind its shield and the tower was again thrown into jagged shadows, swallowing her form as if she'd suddenly dissolved to nothing. He caught his breath, listening; but there was only the pounding of his own heart and the low undertone of the wind blowing in off the water. A distant siren wailed from the depths of Old City, but the shadows all around him were as silent as the grave. His eyes searched for her, for some dark shape in the depth of the blackness, but he could find no trace of her.
It was as if she was gone.
Or, perhaps, she was.
Panic clutched at his throat, but before he could call out the moon slid once more behind a cloud and there she was: still and silent, unmoved from her spot. She could have been a statue or one of the stones of the Sanctuary. A part of the structure itself. Lifeless and cold.
Except he knew otherwise. He had seen her anger. Seen her fear. Felt her anguish over these past months. Others might disagree, but he had glimpsed the true Helen Magnus. The one she kept concealed most of the time. The one she'd sent into exile a hundred and twenty-three years ago. The one who was shattered now, almost beyond repair.
Almost. After all, she was still there. Maybe with time….
The bitter irony of his own thought struck him. If that was the best he could do…. He had no business being up here, really. He'd just thought…but he'd been wrong. He had nothing to offer. Her fate, whatever she chose, was in her own hands. He shouldn't have intruded.
The staircase was close at hand and he carefully made his way toward it.
"Good night, Will."
Her voice came quietly through the darkness. He didn't need to look to know that she hadn't even glanced his way. That she was still where she'd stood, too close to the edge and yet, not close enough.
At least, not for her.
Knowing she didn't expect a reply, he continued down the stairs, leaving her to her thoughts and the night and the shadows which he knew had embraced her once more.