She stands in front of the mirror, her eyes observing her standing form. She looks like a man, stiff, straight and unmoved. It makes her skin tingle, the notion of having this stability even just for a while. Strength is present in her stance. With her willowy frame, she can be mistaken as a man, if one is not to notice the curves that sloped down her form.
She is a woman. She feels strong.
Only for him.
The knob rotates, opening the door. By the threshold, a figure stands, its eyes wandering to the occupant of the room. His stare, sharp and penetrating, pierces through the layers of clothing she wore. He drinks her image in, every line and crease and curl that makes her her. Even now, after a long time of denial, her imperfections break him.
He is a man. He sees beauty.
Only in her.
"What are you doing here?" Her lips part, her words nearly choked in surprise. She did not expect him to even show his face. His presence burns her, like a madman reaching his hand to a star. He is untouchable, and she is well aware of it.
He does not talk, but strides to the middle of the room. He stops when he reaches her back. He looks at the image they form at the mirror. The shadows so easily consume them, their hues dark and gray, blending and swirling together in ribbons that do not end. Still, he can see.
They are man and woman. They shine.
Only now.
"I wanted to see if I sacrificed the right things." His breath touches her neck. Goosebumps form. His eyes catch the glint of black and silver. Inside, he flinches. That silver, it is the symbol of his defeat.
"You did, and for that, I am proud."
He smiles.
"Tess—"
"If tonight goes well, Jem will be cured. If not, I shall surrender my life, knowing that I've failed the man I've sworn to love forever." The image cracks another smile. "His death will be my undoing. This is just an early assumption of a wife's role—"
His expression turns alarmed. "Don't say—"
"But I swear, Will," his name burns on her tongue, a foreign sound she has finally spoken after a long time. It pains to speak of his name, knowing that he loves her and she loves him but she loves another and that she needs someone who'll give her a sense of wholeness, not brokenness in every step. "I swear, by the Angel, I will do everything for James."
Drizzle begins to spray upon the roofs of London. The temperature of the room lowers, but the occupants do not mind. For the woman, there is no coldness. This may be her final act – her only act – but this will be enough. There is enough warmth in her, sent from the heart of the man she promised to take with God as witness. For the man, however, it has always been cold, but cold has never been so harshly biting compared to tonight. He had endured the cold before – of water, of ice, of the heart. Tonight, he knows his heart is on the line.
It was either a win-win or lose-lose.
Gideon appears by the door, his eyes wary but resigned. "It is time." He says quickly, leaving the two in privacy.
She faces him now, her expression freed of the weight that has been bringing them down since the announcement of engagement. Her eyes, the color or stirring storms, rise to his sapphire ones. He is shocked by the love she sees – that love she never showed to him until now. The back of his hand lifts to his cheek, letting it glide down his jaw.
"Watch Jem for me while I'm gone."
The winds around them shift, and he is alone once more.
