A/N:

[All characters in this story belong to Hirohiko Araki, Lucky Land, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, David Productions, Warner Bros. Japan, and all other additional entities responsible for the creation/ownership of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure.]

I totally headcanon that Jotaro loved his wife beyond belief! And was just an anxious, emotionally-constipated mess about it to the point that he doomed their marriage from the start, so the fact is that the JotaWife ship murders me every single time I think about it ;w;)b

Anyway, enjoy my angsty bull!

Content warnings for: vague flashbacks (blood, physical violence, implied stalking), graphic anxiety/suicidal ideation, romanticization of unhealthy relationship behaviors, brief smoking, alcohol consumption, and mildly dubcon kissing. Ask to tag, hons.

-Reddie

The human brain is fully developed after the age of twenty-five.

At twenty years old, this is a finding Jotaro comes across doing homework for a psychology elective one summer day, and it floats in and out of his head for the next several years, long past his graduation. Because sometimes, he still has nightmares of being out on the road, once again facing Stand-using enemies he had long since defeated.

Other times, his unguarded brain will show him theories of how Kakyoin suffered, coughing blood as he died, or of how it must've sounded when Avdol screamed, or of Iggy crushed to nothing but bones. He doesn't ask Polnareff how it happened. He doesn't ask his grandfather how it happened. Part of him likes having no further confirmation that they're never coming back… but only part of him.

Sometimes, Jotaro dies in his nightmares, in Pakistan, in Singapore, in Cairo with his heart squeezed still between his Stand's fingers. When he wakes up shaking so hard he can't hide it, when his mother comes rushing into his room asking what happened, he doesn't say anything. He's afraid that if he opens his mouth, he'll accidentally admit that a deep dark part of him wishes he'd never lived to see seventeen years old, or had never lived to deal with the aftermath of everything after it.

Because if he hadn't lived, he wouldn't be tense every hour of the day. He wouldn't snap at his classmates when they sneak up on him, or touch him without warning. He wouldn't go up to smoking half a pack a day to numb his headaches. He wouldn't be keeping himself awake at night in the safety of his own home, out of paranoia, out of that irrational insurmountable feeling that somehow, the trip to Egypt still followed him. Somehow, someone out there was still planning to bleed him dry, make him watch his friends and family die, before personally finishing him off.

God, sometimes he longs for it.

He was seventeen. His brain was still in development. Dio interrupted that, and now it's hard to believe he'll ever get back on track. Three years too early, he became a man, endlessly wishing he at least had one more week to be a boy. But he only knows how to stop time, not reverse it. For a long time, he doesn't think he'll ever be remotely okay.

Then he meets Iris.

And no, it's nothing like a godawful harlequin. She doesn't float into his life and magically fix him. Oh no, at first, it's quite the opposite: she tilts his whole world upside-down. He's in his last year of university when she approaches him the typical way, greeting him at the train station on the way to school with that coy, sweet, fawning look in her eyes that he knows all too well. Before she can even think of reaching for him, like they always, always do, he tries to shoo her away with his usual profanities.

"Back off, you annoying bitch."

Surprisingly, she actually takes offense at the word "bitch" and leaves him with a black eye.

As he nurses his injury for the next few weeks, Jotaro doesn't think he's ever come to respect another woman as deeply as his mother or his grandmother. Because for the first time, when he said "leave", she listened. She actually left.

But she stayed on his mind.

He eventually sees her again at a senior event, and chases her down to apologize. Again, she listens, not really giving any outright forgiveness or rejection. They end up at the nearest coffeehouse together for an hour, before parting again. Jotaro uses Star Platinum to quickly write his number down on her drink receipt. She finds it in her purse, and calls him later that night.

I figure, for an asshole, you're pretty alright. Wanna meet up again sometime?

For the first time in years, Jotaro is distracted from his studies, turned away from academic papers he buried his emotions under for years. First, they silently procrastinate together at the library. And then they start to spend weekends drinking, smoking together in each other's dorms. And steadily, the distance between them on the sofa, or sitting on Jotaro's bed, decreases. Touch is still a tetchy thing, but when it's her, it's not so bad.

It isn't that her presence makes him happy to be alive. But for the first time in a long while, he's relieved he's not dead. With her, he feels safer, feels a little less like his world is about to fall apart any moment.

When she asks if she can wind her arms around him, he tells her "okay".

And when he asks to marry her after graduation, she says "yes".

Let it be said that it is never too late to jump the gun.

It's a few months after Jolyne was born that he starts to regret the wedding band on her ring finger. He thinks of the tethers that tie him to Iris with a heavy heart, fraught with overwhelming love and also ever-present fear always hiding at the back of his mind.

Most days, he doesn't have to worry about Stands. He doesn't run into them as often in Florida, and for the handful of times he did, they don't do enough mischief to give him a heart attack. Also, most of the time, he's good at pretending Egypt never happened, because after a time, the absence of certain words, voices, concerns became a norm.

The absence of the name "Jojo" is a norm until Iris starts making it Jolyne's nickname.

"Good night, Jojo," she croons one evening, shutting off the light to the baby's room before finding Jotaro in the living room, running a thumb over a crumpled photograph, longing in his eyes.

When she sits next to him, giving just enough space to let him know he's safe to push her away if he needs it, he greets her.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Something Jotaro can appreciate and loathe about Iris is how perceptive she is. Her eyes read his hands like a book in a language she wishes she could understand. At that, he quickly tucks the photograph into his pocket, and changes the subject.

"How was our Jolyne?"

"Doing just fine," she reassures, though her eyes are a tinge sad, "though I'm not sure I can say the same about her papa."

Jotaro frowns visibly at this, but this doesn't deter her. She looks at him head on, her gaze compassionate.

With a shrug, he relents, "You know how he is."

She hums, extending her hand to hover over his, asking with her eyes. He nods, only mildly soothed as she eases her thumb over the back of his palm. His heart curls in on itself when she takes a moment to trace over his empty ring finger. She understands why, given that his research would have him losing it in the ocean if he kept it on hand. But it still stings when he remembers she always keeps her ring on.

"And he knows I'm always here for him, right?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, to blink back the sudden prickle of tears. How can she be sure she'll be here?

It's no light gesture, for her to offer these words forward. She, too, has lived through her own personal horrors. From what little she has disclosed, she too has experienced her own terror of being hunted, frozen still with her heart gripped in her own hand, shallow of breath as an absolute monster sought her out. To some extent, she understands.

But with the world of Stands unknown to her, he still fears. What if she can't see it coming? What if, at the end of the day, his selfishness to stay by her side, to live a life with her, dooms her to the fate he had so long been trying to outrun? From Steely Dan all the way up to Dio, he knows that those relentless enough would have no problems slaughtering his loved ones if it meant getting at him.

A flash of Iris, bloodied on the floor as their daughter wails from the crib, flickers through his mind. In that instant, everything feels immensely unsafe. A pulse of regret surges through him against his will.

In spite of himself, he answers, "I know."

His throat feels tight. And the look in her eyes tells him she notices.

"We don't…" Iris begins, searching for the right words. Jotaro is endlessly appreciative of her tact, something he's never been good at. "I know we don't really talk about. The stuff that fucked us up." He manages a smile, slightly comforted by her swearing.

"Don't let Jolyne hear you say that word."

She gives a light breath of a chuckle. Her thumb eases over the back of his hand, tentative, and for a second, he melts, tension nearly forgotten.

"Oh, you hush," Iris retorts, but it's mild. "If our kid ends up swearing like a sailor, I already knew what I signed up for. Marrying a guy I punched, and all." She gives a sarcastic little eye roll, which Jotaro also wants to smile at, but can't. His face falls.

"Do you ever. Regret meeting me?"

"Hey…" Iris soothes her thumb over his knuckles now, circling one. "No. Of course I don't. Do you?"

He takes one look into those vivid, caring eyes, and his heart squeezes.

"I don't," Jotaro replies, resolute, but he hangs his head. "I get scared though. Because of…"

As the memories start seeping in—a sword in his gut, weight on his spine, vision tunneling as he toes the line between playing and actually being dead—he pulls back his hand. Noticing, Iris lets go, gives him space.

"Listen…" she says, blunt and tender all at once. She clasps her own hands together on her lap. "All I was trying to say is, the only thing I really need to know is what can help you, here, now, in the present, when you get… haunted like this. The past can stay in the past. And you'll never have to tell me the details if you don't want to."

The tears tumble before he can stop them.

"I know," he chokes out, blinking hard. He clutches at the couch, "But I want to."

And he tries to imagine explaining it to her, dragging her into a mess she never signed up for. Even if she were to know, she still can't see Stands. And she still has her own nights, where she remembers too much of what she'd rather forget. Why, why on Earth would he give her another monster to worry about?

I don't know how to tell you.

"But… you can't," she surmises.

He nods his head. His gaze stays trained on his left knee.

She doesn't ask him to look her in the eye, just lets him cry, watching silently, but remaining. She's present. She's here, now.

For how long though?

"Like I said," she repeats, voice tender, "Here. Now. What can help?"

There's a long silence, before Jotaro leans back into her, arms wrapping around her frame. He breathes in her scent, something floral, something like milk emanating from her skin. She's soft and solid altogether, compassionately motionless, almost irritatingly so, as he clings to her. He's mostly silent as he cries, though she can feel the shudder in his chest with every inhale.

"Just hold me," he manages to ask.

"Okay."

And she winds his arms around him, crushing against him like they'll never see each other again.

Eventually, Jotaro starts seeing to that.

It wasn't intentional, at first. The expedition was supposed to take up half the year, at minimum anyway. But then once it was over, he tumbled right into the next project, and then the next one. He withdraws from Iris's touch more and more each time they come back in contact, and she does not push him for more. He both loves and hates that about her, that thoughtfulness. Sometimes, he wishes she would break down all the walls he builds around himself, force her way back in to talk him down, but… he can't ask that of her.

For a little while, he does try. He phones home, or pops back in and out for intervals of a few hours, before running off with the Foundation again. Jolyne turns one, and then two. She starts preschool early. While he's gone, she starts her first summer vacation. He takes on a time-consuming arrow case with Polnareff, and tells his little girl he's leaving Mommy for a few years. Jolyne doesn't ask any questions, just nods at him uncomfortably. His heart breaks, from the way she looks at him like he's a stranger.

It's his own fault.

A few months into investigating the arrow case, he and Polnareff fuck off to the middle of nowhere to shoot the shit in their downtime. Nothing ever comes up about Egypt, and yet here they are, still chasing it somehow. It helps a bit, learning more about why, and where, all these nightmares came from in the first place. Knowledge gives him better peace of mind.

"Do you want one?" Polnareff offers forward a cigarette. A pulse, a memory of his hand over Iris's pregnant belly once upon another time, and Jotaro shakes his head.

"Promised Iris I'd quit."

"Oh, right." Polnareff nods, remembering. "You know, how has she been? You don't mention her anymore."

Longing swells in him as Polnareff plays with his lighter, the way his wife used to back in their dorm days.

"I don't?"

"No. She and Jolyne okay?"

He thinks of all the miles that separate them. They are miles and miles apart, safe and sound and faraway from all his bullshit. And while Jolyne can hardly get attached to someone she never really sees, his wife is probably missing him just as badly. Equal parts ease and ache swirl behind his sternum.

"No shit." Jotaro shakes his head, "Why wouldn't they be?"

Before they get divorced, Jotaro comes home at 1:47 AM and kisses her into the wall, hard.

Raw and impulsive, she grips him by the lapels of his jacket, hands shaky, desperate. She gasps against his mouth and he expects her to shove him off, maybe even punch him again the way she did the first time they met. But her lips part at the accidental slip of his tongue, and she tastes like coffee and amaretto. The level of trust she lends him as she leans deeper into the kiss is almost unbearable, makes his heart feel full to bursting, considering all the things she doesn't talk about. It's not a trust he's earned, not after skipping out on her, not after avoiding her for the past few years.

And even when Jotaro used to be around, it was always gentle, always tentative and hesitant. When they came together—kissed, touched, made love, anything like that—they did it like they would have the rest of their lives to explore one another, slow and sweet. Between them, time used to be endless.

Here, it's not.

The minute she pushes against him, he lets up, ruefully. Her hands flatten against his chest and he closes his eyes. This could just be a bad dream, he almost hopes, as if that will keep the end from taking definitive form. But he thinks of his pining mother, faking a big fat smile all those years alone, and refuses to repeat his father's mistakes. He already dug his grave. For Iris's sake, he needs to lie in it already.

"What was that for?" She laughs, but it sounds halfway broken. "I thought you were coming back here to…?"

As she draws her touch away, her eyes drift to the kitchen table. There, the documents lie, signed, under the weight of a pen and her half-empty cup. The softly-turning fan flutters one of the corners up, like a defeated hand waving goodbye.

"Yeah, that's…" Jotaro he tries to force himself to look at her. Every second their eyes stay locked has his heart twisting that much further inwards, too full of feelings with nowhere to go. He exhales, "Yeah."

Trapped, he watches the last flicker of hope in her features fizzle out. Instantly, he wishes he had the words to tell her he still loves her, or to at least be able to kiss her again. But he shouldn't make this harder than it needs to be.

Silently, he takes the amulet from his pocket, placing it in Iris's hand.

"What's… this?"

"For Jolyne," he says, solemn. Again, he doesn't know how to explain it, doesn't think he'll ever be able to. Squeezing Iris's hand, he gives Iris a firm look, "If you'll do me, just one last favor. If she's ever in trouble, promise me you'll give this to her."

Confusion crinkles her features, "Jotaro, I—"

"Please."

And that single syllable cracks, his stone façade giving way. She sees right through him.

"I promise…" she murmurs, pausing for one moment, lips parted like she still has something left to say. Jotaro waits, lets her say it. It's the least he can do, for all the patience she's shown him. "Before you go. Can I… kiss you again?"

He closes the distance, breath ghosting over her lips, voice meek in a way he won't dare to let anyone else hear. Only for her, and their hands find each other, fingers lacing together. He can't feel the metal of her ring anymore, and somehow, this is soothing. It hollows him out. He closes his eyes.

"Okay."

The last time feels like the touch of a butterfly, seconds before it floats away.