Disclaimer: Libba Bray owns these characters and Charlotte Bronte owns the poem; thus I do not own either.
There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave ;
I've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
- Charlotte Bronte
i.
He sinks to his knees, feeling like he might crack open and die, and that maybe that would be a relief because he would be with her. He feels so incredibly empty, drained of everything of worth, and maybe he has been; maybe everything good about him died along with her. Died. He can't even think the word, let alone say anything to confirm it, and he doesn't want to. Any confirmation would sink the sword into his chest further, and right now he's got all the pain he can handle.
His mind cruelly replays conversations in his mind, sends him pictures of her, and he can't think, can't breathe, can't move. Can't live.
ii.
It's a distraction, and he desperately needs a distraction now. It's ironic that he considers the very thing she died for simply a distraction, but without her things have lost their meaning. Except for the things she would have wanted, which have the highest priority in his mind. And she would have wanted him to fight for the Realms. There are other things she would have wanted, too, but they are more painful for him. Accept. Move on. He's not sure he can do these things, but he can fight. And he does, and her name echoes in his head like a battle cry.
iii.
Once he's back in his own world, things are not so simple as a battle of good and evil. And he supposes that maybe that wasn't even so simple as it might have seemed, maybe that had complexities that he didn't notice in the intensity of the battle.
He stares at Spence, the one place she felt at home at. The place is too reminiscent of her for him to handle now, so he turns away. He realizes that courage on the battlefield doesn't always translate to courage in reality as he walks away from Spence, walks away from what she would have wanted. Maybe she wouldn't have, he tries to persuade himself. It isn't hard. He's lost certainty in everything now, except for two things: that he loved her and she loved him.
And maybe that's enough.
iv.
He tries alcohol. Tries to drink himself away until there's nothing left, and it almost works. He feels only warmth, only forgetfulness, and if he could just forget the tragedy then it would be perfect for him.
But no, he forgetseverything, and that is even more painful than remembering. Because he lives in fear of forgetting the precise tilt of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the straight arch of her nose. He's terrified of forgetting the exact words she's said to him; this to him is far more worrisome than dying. He doesn't fear dying at all, in fact, for he will be with he then forever. At times, he longs for it, sometimes even thinks of taking his own life, but then he thinks of the disappointment she would feel. And if he can't show bravery in other ways, he can show bravery here. Perhaps it will be enough to be worthy of her.
v.
He's heard that there's a place in the Realms where the Order and Rakshana members that were lovers could walk in each others' dreams and prove their love, but clearly they don't need a device such as that, as she freely enters his dreams and he hopes he enters hers.
He dreams that she is alive and healthy, kissing him and undressing him and making love with him and it's so tragically perfect because he needs to enjoy the feeling, be able to call on it in life when he needs it, but really he knows that she's gone and that this is only a dream and that makes him want to savor it all the more.
vi.
He has worn all black since the day he came back from the Realms, with tidings of victory for the world and defeat for himself.
Every day, he lays out his black clothing and dons it. It's true that it's partially out of respect for the dead, as the tradition would say, but it's also so that he won't ever forget. So he won't ever smile and then realize his mistake too late; now he will be able to catch himself before anything like that should occur.
He continues this way for some time, attiring himself in black and keeping his face as blank as a specter's, but one day he sheds it.
vii.
Today is her birthday, and he knows that's why.
Today is her birthday, and he cannot act as if it's her death-day. Though it's true she will never celebrate another birthday again, he feels as if this will be his present to her, a real way to prove his devotion. He will do as she would wish, whatever the personal pain. Whatever the cost.
He starts with shedding the black.
viii.
He continues with smiling.
It doesn't happen all at once. But he's standing in line to buy bread, and a young couple are in front of him. At first, as usual, he feels a sharp stab in the stomach as he sees the happy pair, hands clenched tightly as if afraid to let go of this newfound euphoria. Yet she says something that makes him laugh, and although he isn't quite that far along yet, a smile comes to his face. It surprises him that it could sneak so quietly upon him, and when he ventures outside the store with his bread in hand, the sun is shining brightly.
ix.
He visits Lillian Nightwing. She's the only other person he knows that feels the loss as sharply as he does. He may be getting better, but he will never be the same again. And he's come to terms with that.
"I miss her too," she tells him in a rare display of confidence, and he appreciates her honesty.
"I'll never stop missin' 'er," he confesses, matching her honesty with his own.
She nods. "If you did not, then it would be as if you had forgotten about her. Missing someone when they are gone is what comes with loving a person."
He sees the truth in it, and he decides he would not give up missing her for the world.
x.
"Sahirah."
He whispers the name like his own personal prayer, like something precious, which it is. He looks across the rooftop of Spence, her home, and knows that it's the right place. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, swallows. Saying good-bye is too hard, too painful, but he has to accept it. He would be a coward if he did so, and unworthy of her.
"I'll see you again someday," he tells her. It is a vow to her, but it reassures him as well because he knows that it is true, for after he has departed this world, she will be waiting for him once he crosses over to whatever comes after this life. "I'll see you again," he promises.