A/N: Sorry for the longer wait! And thank you again to fanfic. addicted01 for beta-ing (even if I fought against so many suggestions to add more feels)! :3

Timeline-wise this belongs about a month or so after 'B is for Benumbed'.

Guest: Thank you for leaving a review again!^^

G is for Grave

She misses it at first, for a few times, actually.

The cross sits neatly near a vegetable patch at the edge of the western village. It looks plain but well-kept - which is probably why it hadn't drawn her attention like the tombs at the foot of the mountains. She only notices it because she had promised the teacher from the lower village to fetch some carrots from the patch. After that, it's just her natural curiosity to bypass the flower bed in front of the cross to read the engraving.

"Alya."

It's simple and short. And she is immediately drawing the threads together to understand. She hasn't asked Jacob about Alya, and he hasn't mentioned her. But Lara has seen the deeper melancholy in Jacob's gaze whenever they have touched upon topics about the Geothermal Valley or the Soviets around the time that the two must have lived together.

There is no date of birth or death on the cross which keeps her in the dark on what point in time she came to Jacob's life. Sofia is five to ten years older than her, but that's all she has.

She gets up and looks at the scenery around the vegetable patch. There are a few houses, the road, and a nice view towards the lower village; it's a beautiful place, but ordinary, peculiarly ordinary for the Remnant leader's late wife.

She picks up the carrots in haste and blindly follows the road back down when her mind wanders elsewhere. She wants to know more about Alya, and she wants to understand Jacob better. In the few months that she has stayed here, Jacob has been his old enigmatic self, and she is drawn by the wisdom of the heart he carries with him. More than that, she is trying to claw her hardened heart out of the darkness and ice, and little by little, her old emotions have come back, strengthening her budding feelings.

At the same time, even if she wouldn't mind questions about her parents, she has an intuition that Alya is a much more sensitive subject to Jacob.

In the end, she doesn't have to bring up the grave because Jacob beats her to it. He must know where she traveled today like he seems to know everything that happens around the Valley. Her passivity must have been another clue. She usually brings her findings and questions to him easily each evening but now she has stayed silent.

Jacob throws a few casual looks at her but otherwise works around the small kitchen like usual. He is effortless in his actions, having followed the same routine probably thousands and thousands of times. Still, there is very little boredom, his mind not fully in the cooking only to spare more attention to her.

"Did you have a good day?" he prods gently without looking as he peels the potatoes.

For a moment, she considers what to say but decides that he must already know enough that it would be pointless to pretend. "An okay one. You are probably aware that I helped Anna today."

Jacob glances at her and hums in response, placing another potato into the pot without the slightest of splashes of water. She had offered to help as always, but Jacob usually took over the cooking, not minding the chore and giving her other options to repay the work in return, like her help to the teacher today. He seems to consider his words for a moment before continuing on the topic and her reticence, "You wanted to ask?"

She follows as Jacob moves to close the lid of the pot, and she waits until he has added another log into the fire. Her mind is not really even battling over the answer because her gut is so certain that she doesn't want to push on a subject and risk ruining the mood that has favored them during her stay. "I was curious, but I decided that it wasn't my place to ask."

Her words are so uncharacteristic to her that Jacob looks at her from under his brows. She feels slightly – but only slightly – dispirited how even Jacob makes a point of her thirst for knowledge. After all, Jacob had witnessed with Jonah and later with his own injuries how the well-being of her friends always overpowers her quest – he should know that about her by now.

Yet, Jacob gives a brief, wry smile to her, indicating that he is weighing his own actions and the impression they give instead of her character. And she is surprised to realize that he seems to be taken at how well she can read past his nonchalance. True, they don't know each other that well yet to openly reveal their sorrow, but they have enough similarities in their pasts to spot the painful triggers more readily than most people.

She shrugs, tilting her head gently as if to ask whether her concern over his feelings is misplaced, but even then, she meets his gaze without expectations. It's only fair after he has never turned away from her troubles, never pushing when she hasn't been ready to share her pain yet. In the end, Jacob hums his acceptance over her words but doesn't elaborate on the subject - and she doesn't ask anything more; in fact, it's much easier to let the subject go than she had thought possible.

It's only later that evening when the meal has been eaten and they are both - once again - unable to get up from stools around the table and break the lazily flowing, amiable discussion about the Valley, their plans, and the life in general. The earlier conversation about Alya has been followed by so many other subjects that Lara has to actively catch up when Jacob unexpectedly returns to the topic.

"This was her home."

"The Valley?" she prods gently, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear to help herself focus on the topic. She doesn't want to muck this up, especially when Jacob's feelings are evident on the reminiscing but wry smile on his face.

Jacob nods and sighs before stacking the wooden bowls as if to take them outside for a wash. At the moment, however, he leans back on the stool with no effort or energy to get up. "Alya did not want anything fancy. She didn't want to be buried like the nobility in the olden days. She never… Alya wasn't an explorer like you. She visited the hills sometimes, but she didn't want to be buried in such a nice scenery," Jacob explains his voice distant and quiet, "Alya thought, –she thought that if she was buried in some breathtaking location, then, I would spend all my days there, mourning alone, instead of enjoying the scenery. According to her, I would be unable to spend my days grieving on a vegetable patch or by blocking the road."

Lara smiles involuntarily. Jacob's sadness is palpable, but she doesn't want to sound pitying. If Alya's words are anything to go by, remorse is something to be avoided at all costs. Yet, against her normal outlook, she feels Jacob's sorrow deeply because he is no longer held at bay from her heart like most people. "Sounds like she was a very smart woman," she gives in the end.

"She was. She truly was," Jacob sighs again and plays with the stacked bowls, "She liked it here. Usually, almost everyone harbors some temptation towards leaving, to the life out there, but for her, this was home. She was grounded no matter the adversary, she always had faith – even when I was lacking."

Jacob looks at her with a ghost of a smile before lowering his gaze. Lara's thoughts, on the other hand, travel back to Jonah who must still be in Peru, his optimism and trust in her, in that they are doing the right thing. It's an invaluable quality in a person.

They sit in silence for a while, uncertain about how to continue.

"She had already left this world before I could get to her," he eventually answers her non-asked question.

She has partially deduced that much based on Sofia's age and Jacob's healing ability but the truth still manages to sting her heart. She has deaths on her shoulders, and she is no stranger to survivor's guilt, yet, she can't bear to think how it must feel to have the gift to save lives but fail to do so with the ones you love the most. "I'm sorry."

Jacob gets up and gives her something between a nod and shake of the head. "Everyone dies," he finally admits with a sigh as if trying to comfort her.

But it only makes the pain in her heart worse because she can hear and see the unspoken words, "Everyone except me."

"It sucks," she comments without thinking. Truthfully, she feels that her concept of losing everyone around her is very limited compared to his experiences, but the words are out of her mouth already, making Jacob stop and observe her before she can reconsider them.

"It does," he gives her before she has the chance to hastily explain or apologize – or do both.

"I'd promise that I wouldn't die, but since I was already ready to sacrifice myself back in Peru, I'm probably the least likely person to live up to that," she tries to joke instead.

Jacob's eyes stay at her even longer at that. Gradually, she feels the mood turn awkward and is ready to curse herself for covering the delicate subject so poorly, but Jacob's answer stops her in her tracks, "Actually, Lara, I think you may have the best chances to outlive the odds than I've witnessed in a long time."