A/N: This takes place sometime after Path of Radiance, the first time Haar and Jill make it back to Talrega, I imagine, and see Shiharam's grave. I don't give much context in the story, so that's the context now: they're at Shiharam's grave for the first time. If you've read my other story, Flames of War, this isn't what happens there, but it's the same setting.

As always, please leave a review, I love each and every one so much! It was a little strange in my last Haar/Jill story... I got 9 reviews on the first chapter, then 1 on the 2nd. o.o Befuddling. Always review! ^^

Words: 1108
Characters: Jill, Haar
Time: After Path of Radiance
Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.


"Haar? I… I feel tired, but I don't want to sleep," Jill mumbled, pulling her eyes away from the shiny white stone and the pale, wilted flowers that marked her father's grave. She looked instead at the first beginnings of the sunset. "Will you… sit with me? Can we just talk?"

He tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Of course. Anytime. I like talking to you, you know that."

His voice was warm and comforting, but it was not dishonestly bright; she appreciated that he did not try to hide the or avoid the pain and grief that they both felt this day. Without taking his arm away from her shoulders, he led her to the base of a tall elm, just a few yellowed leaves still clinging to its parched branches. They sat together on the mat of fallen leaves and soft grass, leaning back against the trunk. Still Haar's arm stayed around her shoulders, and Jill was grateful. The night was growing cool, and he was warm and strong beside her, so she moved closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Remember the time when Papa caught you stealing eggs from his coop?" Jill said, smiling. "He was so mad at you."

"I remember. And all I wanted was to make him some sweet bread for his forty-fifth birthday!"

"He was even angrier after you told him that."

"I know. I don't think I've ever had quite a verbal beating like the one he gave me then, and he would have beaten me with more than just words if he could've caught me."

Jill laughed a little, cheered despite the remnants of tears on her cheeks. "I remember watching him chase you around the coop, over and over again, until both of you were so tired you could barely breathe. I laughed and laughed."

"But he never caught me," Haar said proudly, tilting his head so he could look at her. She was still gazing into the horizon, but she was smiling. He was glad to see her smiling. "Do you remember the day you went out on your first patrol, alone, without me?"

"Of course. My heart was racing so fast the whole time, and of course, nothing happened."

"Well, I was back at Talrega while you were gone, with Shiharam. The whole time you were gone, he was pacing back and forth in the main hallway, so much so that I was afraid he'd wear a rivet down into the tiles. He didn't stop until I told him I saw you out the window, and then he ran faster than I've ever seen that man move, even when you baked him blueberry pie that one time. He had to see you, safe and whole."

Again Jill laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She could see her father in her mind's eye, pacing just as Haar had described him; it was so like him to worry overmuch over something so simple and easy as a patrol. His forehead would crinkle in a very specific way, she knew. Just right between his eyes, he'd get three wrinkles when he frowned, and Jill always teased him that before long, the lines would become permanent. He told her if they did, it was all her fault, and she laughed. Jill could picture Haar, too, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, smiling when he caught sight of her off in the distance.

But the imagined memory soon faded, bringing her back to the stillness of the present. Instinctively she looked up at Haar, wondering at their closeness, and blushing like a schoolgirl when he met her eyes. She was such a fool, to think of anything more than their friendship, with which he was already so generous.

"What?" Haar asked, noticing her quick glance. "What is it?"

"Nothing." To take her mind off her own silliness, she stared across the muddy plain to the place where her father was buried. She felt Haar's gaze follow her own wordlessly. With a resigned sigh, she realized the tears were tickling behind her eyes again, and she looked away from the grave, but it was no use. And Haar knew, somehow; he always knew when she cried. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, both arms around her shoulders, and she cried silently into his shirt.

"I am jealous of you, Haar," she said quietly when she could talk without too much sniffling. "I know you feel the same pain as I do, I can see it on your face, but you never cry. I wish I could do that. I wish I didn't cry like this, like a child, like a weakling. I am so jealous."

"Don't be," Haar said at once, his voice soft but flat. He rubbed her back comfortingly. "Oh, don't be jealous of me. Don't be ashamed to cry. I wish I could. But I've grown cold. I've seen too much war, I've had too many friends killed in battle or murdered in their beds, I've seen too many people die right before my eyes, even in my arms. There was no time to cry for all of them. Now it's as if I've forgotten how. I learned to live with the pain, with no way to let it out… I chose to sleep, whenever I could, to find those few blissful hours where I thought of nothing, where I felt no pain, except when I dreamed. It became a habit, sleeping."

Jill was frozen, speechless, captivated yet horrified by his words and the pain he had suffered. She didn't know if it was during his time in Bengion, or here in Daein, and she didn't want to ask. But he didn't seem to need her to say anything. He simply held her, and all of a sudden she felt his lips brush against her forehead.

"Cry for me, Jill," he murmured, his voice very carefully controlled. "So I can feel as if I, too, have shed a tear over those I love."

Helplessly Jill nodded. Curled safely in his arms, she rested her face against his chest so she could feel the beat of his heart through his shirt. "Of course," she whispered. "I'll cry for you. If you want me to."

Haar tightened his arms around her again. With a deep breath, Jill finally let herself cry freely, knowing that this time, the tears on her cheeks were Haar's tears, too, even when his own eyes remained dry.