The room was still, almost silent save for the breathing of its occupants. Yet as Edmund rose from the bed and began to gather his clothes, the faint sound of a guitar began in her mind. It was a sound from home, a haunting melody she had heard in the Gypsy camp, and as she rose to don her own discarded garments she began to sing new words to its liltingly evocative tune.

If I could have one wish
If I could have some say
I'd keep you far from home

Her fingers itched to touch him, so she busied herself with assembling her tousled curls into a braid. As she plaited the strands, she mentally stroked the scarred skin on his back, the damaged shoulder that had pushed them past the remaining barrier between them. She wished she could heal his body as well as she seemed to soothe his soul and quiet his troubled mind.

I'd roll back both my sleeves
Dig under your skin
And fix your shattered bones

Much as she might wish to fix him, and much as she inspired a desire to protect in him, they seemed destined (or doomed) to cause each other new pain to replace that which was eased away. She held his favor, and maybe even a small piece of his heart in her hands, but he could never fully reach for her as long as he held two separate worlds in his. In his left, bound to the gold band he wore like a fine chain, was the life he shared with his wife, contained of all the memories and griefs and loves that such a promised lifetime could hold… and how much pain it must cause him to have sought out the new world he carried with him now, the snowglobe that held her and them and what possibilities could come from letting go and holding onto something new.

Hold on,
This may hurt you when I tell you of the truth,
We don't get two lives to live
It's true,
The only fault I've found in you
Is not being free to take what I would give

Determined not to watch as he prepared to walk back out of her life, Deborah busied herself with knotting a faded cotton wrapper. The time-worn fabric embraced her gently, and served to ease the chill slowly attempting to invade her heart. She would be frozen out soon enough.

If I could bend your pain
Into something good
Make you a prouder man
If I could rough you up
And save you with good luck
And show you hope again

He turned to face her then, and the look in his eyes nearly undid her. It was all the things he could not and would not say, a complete removal of the constant mask he wore, a stark nakedness of his soul before her. Every emotion he felt played out there, every considered scenario of their farewell flickered in his eyes like a film strip. She knew his thoughts and his heart and wanted so badly to let him stay. But go he must, and she must make him, or there would never be any peace for them. One way or another, something had to be decided… but she sang her understanding of the situation, still attempting to grant him some comfort as was her wont to do.

Hold on,
Weren't meant to suffer so very long
Leaving love that's gone has never been a sin
Hang tight,
The only fault you have tonight
Is shutting down so cold till I break in.

As he walked out the door, she let the barrier close behind him and leaned against the cool wood for support, turning her back to it and feeling a breath escape her as her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The sudden stillness threatened to smother her, so she sang softly into the darkness as the memories of their times together played before her.

Oh sad young man,
I think I need you.
For reasons I don't know
I pledge myself to winter season
So it's perfectly on course
But in the end it has to snow.

She crawled back into bed, suddenly bone weary and heartsore, wanting the oblivion of sleep. The sheets still smelled of him, and his pillow still carried a trace of his warm essence. She was tempted to shove every offending linen onto the floor, or perhaps out the window so the aroma wouldn't linger, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead her fingertips ghosted over the faint indentations in the fabric, willing it to absorb into that still, dark place where she loved him, to stain her memory indelibly with him so she wouldn't forget.
The pillow was a poor substitute, but she wrapped her arms around it, pulled it close and curled herself around it in the woolen cocoon of blankets as she sang on, her voice barely above a whisper now…

If I could make you stay
Convince you you'd be lost
If we were torn apart
If it remained unclear
Between the two of us
Which one would be the one
To break the other's heart

She felt the unmistakable prick of tears then, and a slight hitch found its way into her voice. Pausing for a moment to draw a deep steadying breath, she continued on as though he still lay beside her, directing her words across the expanding distance between them.

Hold on,
This will floor me differently
Than any drug that's washed me into sleep
It's true
The only fault I'll take from you
Is how to run from what you wish to keep

The music concluded in her head as the tears began to fall to their own rhythm, eventually lulling her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

A/N: the song is "The Only Fault" by my melancholy inspiration, Rachel Yamagata, re-introduced to me by the incredibly talented nameless and forgotten. it just looped in my internal playlist until I wrote this. try listening as you read; it enhances the misery.

hope you like it; even if you didn't, before you go running for the straightrazors and vodka, feel free to leave a review.