Chapter Three

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"I have a question," Violet stated.

They were seated outside on the porch, watching the noonday sunlight dance across the fields surrounding the cabin. The summer breeze was warm and carried the fragrance of violets still in full bloom. She'd noticed her name-sake growing around the cabin and smiled, secretly pleased to see he had wished to keep something of her close.

"Hmm...?" Gilbert sighed and took a sip of tea.

"Did you need me to do any work while I'm here, or was it simply a complete ruse?"

Gilbert spluttered and tried vainly to right his dripping teacup before he saw the sparkle of mischief that danced in her eyes. Amazing, how expressive her eyes could be while the rest of her gave nothing away.

He laughed. "You caught me. It was a complete farce. I had to get you here somehow. I didn't want to just show up in Leiden in the middle of your life. I wanted to see you alone. Do it gently, as you say."

"I take my work very seriously. I ask that if you wish to see me in future, that you call first."

He set his teacup down. "I will be sure to do just that."

She shot him a smug look before her face took on its impassive nature once more. "Does anyone else know?"

He nodded somberly. "Hodgins knows, and probably your friends now too. He's known since the beginning. Don't be upset with him. I made him promise not to ever tell you."

Violet allowed the revelation to sink in. "I am not upset," she concluded. "But I do wish you hadn't lied. I never thought you'd lie to me."

"And I'll spend the rest of my life regretting that I had to do it, Violet. I only want what's best for you, but it doesn't excuse the pain I've caused in the process... Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes. I believe forgiveness is an important aspect of love. Is it not?"

"It is. But I hope the one you forgive so easily deserves it."

She sipped her tea delicately.

"He does."

Days passed in the sweet pleasure of one another's company. They went for many walks, around the town, around Gilbert's impressively vast land. He showed her the rich forest near his home, the farmland beyond that he'd purchased and developments he had built for people ravaged by the war. They were mostly families of the men who never came back, he'd told her, men like himself, who sometimes wished they hadn't. Violet made no reply to the remark, knowing well the emotion of guilt that came with surviving while so many others had not.

He'd discovered his own purpose after the war. He had factories built and farmland worked which provided jobs and eventually food to his fellow comrades and their families. Without Violet, it was what got him out of bed each morning that entire first year. His injuries, the visible ones at least, had healed well. He learned to use his mechanical arm, thankful that it was his left and not his dominant right that he'd lost. He hardly noticed the difference any more. His vision was another story. His depth perception would always be off, and sometimes, if he tried to focus using his non-existent right eye, the blackness would devour his vision before he shook his head and heaved, desperate to calm his racing heart. He was lucky the bullet hadn't touched his brain or he wouldn't have made it. It had hit him at an angle, destroying any hope of salvaging his vision or his eye. He had a glass one made, but the sensation of it in his socket irritated him, so he left it in a drawer somewhere and wore the black eyepatch instead.

The invisible injuries, however, had taken much longer to recover from. In fact, they had never really healed; just numbed to a perpetual ache inside his chest. The distraction of his work saved him. For the first time in his life, he was truly grateful to have been born with so much wealth. As soon as he was well enough to travel, he met with his lawyer, an old trusted friend of his father's, took out all of his inheritance and left his home in Leiden, he thought, forever. Soon, he grew adept at disregarding the ache in his chest whenever his thoughts drifted to the girl he left behind. Instead, he forced himself to dwell on the fact that she was well and living her own life now. She was free from being his tool, from warfare, the army, and taking orders from anyone who would abuse her dark talents ever again.

Violet was exceedingly pleased to learn of all the wonderful things Gilbert had accomplished in just a few years. He was reserved about the true extent of his good deeds, but she saw clearly the results of his achievements. The economy here thrived, where after the war it was poor and desolate. He had rebuilt it all from the ground up by housing, giving work, and feeding a good portion of the countryside's population. Violet wondered what Dietfried would have to say if he learned of how his little brother had spent a large chunk of the Bougainvillea fortune. Something insulting, no doubt.

Sometimes silence filled the space between Gilbert and Violet, each lost in their own thoughts and memories. But it was never uneasy or tense, it was a peaceful quiet. They maneuvered around each other with a familiarity that could only result from the close quarters they once shared. So long Gilbert and Violet had been denied the presence of each other. The simple pleasure of looking up and meeting the knowing eyes of the one person you trusted in all the world, was an exquisite pleasure both had missed terribly. Here in this humble yet charming little house undisturbed by the outside world around them, they could enjoy, without prying and ever-watchful eyes, the companionship they'd almost forgotten. There was innocence and chasteness on both their parts, but the touch of a hand, the hint of an irrepressible smile, a tender kiss, were intimate treasures of priceless value.

Nights weren't spent alone for long. Gilbert would always wake up early, unable to resist the urge to see her. Violet would already be awake and waiting for him. She folded herself into his body, like she had when she was a child. They clung together while they slept late into the morning, holding on as if the other could disappear from their grasp at any moment. Gilbert didn't bring up the matter of intimacy again, and neither did Violet. She trusted in him to know when the time was right and vaguely, she wondered if he would wait until they were married. She knew of the custom and didn't mind. Just being in his arms felt exquisite, she couldn't imagine anything better.

Then, in the wee hours before dawn of her last morning there, it was she who crept on wool-padded feet to his bedroom across the hall from hers, and observed from the threshold his softly slumbering form.

Sleep had found him easily this night.

His respiration was deep and even, head turned to the side just so. One arm draped above his head over the pillow and the corners of his mouth curved upward in a small smile. Violet couldn't tear her gaze from the sight of him in such repose.

She remembered sleeping in harsh canvass tents during the war, his cot mere steps away from hers. Even then he kept her close, and she felt safe. But it was war, and soldiers do not sleep deeply during such tumultuous times. Gilbert was easily awoken in those days. Every time she shifted his breathing would change and she could almost feel the power of his well-trained muscles as they tensed for battle. If a twig snapped outside, he visibly flinched, always at the ready for anything that might happen. His sudden alertness permeated the air between them, for when he moved, so did she, and vice versa. He wasn't the only one who listened for threats in the night, but she never complained about her lost sleep. She worried more for him. The bags under his eyes disturbed her, but she could say nothing to convince him of his need for rest. Not while the enemy slept so near.

Only now, as he lay beneath smooth sheets, warm and safe and alive, did she allow herself to see it - the future she'd wanted since the moment he told her to live free. I don't know what that means but I will… with you. I can do anything as long as I'm with you, her mind had whispered. She'd kept that dream deep within her heart, beside all her memories of him and her hopes that he was alive and that nothing was causing him pain. There were moments throughout the last few days that did indeed feel like a dream. Maybe she was dead and this place was where he had been waiting for her all this time. Maybe he had died…

Maybe this is heaven…

"Hey, you."

His voice, thick with sleep, sliced through her thoughts like a swift dagger, and she squeaked in surprise. She inwardly scolded herself for allowing herself to think such ridiculous things. They were both very much alive.

"Sorry, Violet. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you cold? You're shaking, come here."

Gilbert slid over to make room for her and she climbed into the bed beside him. Nights were still chilly though summer was fast approaching. The sheets were heated from his body and thickly laced with his scent. He wore only soft trousers, his torso bare. She felt briefly unsettled when she noticed his eyepatch was gone and a black hole stared at back her, but it was nothing more than the surprise of seeing it for the first time. She quickly became accustomed to the sight, what she could see of it in the soft light of the moon anyway.

"Couldn't you sleep?" he asked.

"I did for a while. I wanted to see you."

He found her hand and gave it a squeeze. "What were you thinking about just then?"

"The war."

"It's been over for a long time, Violet."

"I know. I was thinking about you more so than it. You sleep much better now than you did then."

He chuckled. "I didn't know you watched me so closely."

Her eyes were wide, but soft; unblinking. "I watched everything - I was trained to. But it was never hard, I wanted to watch you. You tried to hide it from me, but I could sense your fear even then. But you were brave. You were always brave..."

"I was afraid of losing you."

"I know that now. I was afraid of losing you, too. Even so, you never left me behind. I was grateful for that. It meant I could protect you, which was all I wanted. I had very simple desires back then. To be with you, to protect you, to hear your orders. That was my life."

"It shouldn't have been."

Violet shrugged. "The past cannot be changed. I do not blame anyone for what I had become. And I will never blame you for using me."

"I never wanted to," he asserted.

"I knew that the moment we first met," she said, smiling. "You weren't like your brother."

He sighed. "I could never be so cruel. Dietfried is… not an easy man to know. The war affected him in a way I never allowed it to affect me. He holds so much anger... no doubt he blames himself for my death."

"Not exactly. He blames me. I told him I tried to save you, but it was still my fault in his eyes. He will always see me as the tool he discarded. If he hadn't given me to you, it would have been his death on my hands, and not yours. That is how he blames himself."

"None of it was your fault, Violet. In any way," he assured adamantly.

"Yes, that's what your mother said," Violet recalled.

His breath hitched. "When did you talk to my mother?"

"A few years ago. Your brother brought me to your house in Leiden. She wanted to meet me, I suppose. She said your death wasn't my burden to carry. I think now maybe she knew that you still lived…"

"I visited her once, before I left, but her memory… Some part of her must have still remembered, then. I wish I could have seen her again before she died."

"She loved you very much. I wonder if my mother loved me like that."

"I thought you didn't remember your parents?"

She sighed. "It's true, I have no memories of them. But I have imagined a few times what they might have been like. I don't like to think about it, but sometimes I do anyway."

Gilbert leaned up on his elbow and regarded her. He could see in the faint starlight that her creamy skin glowed like milk in moonlight. "You're very special, Violet. You never say anything that isn't the truth we all wish we could share."

She frowned. "But I've observed that it makes me very different from others."

"Yes," he agreed huskily, leaning near. "No one else is like you."

"And… that is a good thing?"

"Yes." He brushed her cheek with his lips.

"And… you love me?"

"Very much," he answered softly against the corner of her mouth.

"And-"

He pressed his lips to hers and she quieted. The metal of her hands cooled the heated skin at his neck as his arms snaked around her slender waist and he thought, not for the first or last time, how very right it felt to hold her. After a minute, he pulled away. His head came to rest on her stomach and his eyes grew heavy as she ran a hand through his hair in slow rhythmic strokes.

He loved that she felt at ease enough to touch him so intimately. It was a far cry from where they'd been during the war. He hoped she never tired of it.

Hours later, morning broke through the darkness and woke the sleeping couple. Sometime before the sun had risen, Gilbert had donned his eyepatch. Wanting to examine his old injury by the light of day, Violet went to remove it. He grabbed her wrist to stop her, an unconscious reflex.

"It isn't pretty, Violet," he warned. Not anymore.

Her eyes softened. "And how do you feel when you see my scars?"

He balked. "I don't see them. I just see you."

Her brows rose, as if that was the exact answer she had expected and he chuckled, realizing the trap she'd cleverly laid for him.

When she made to remove it again, he didn't stop her. It wasn't pretty, that much was true. But she didn't care about the ravaged skin and empty socket where a kind emerald eye had once resided. She only saw her beloved Major. Besides, it's twin still regarded her the same tender way it always had. Softly, she traced the scar where the bullet had entered with her finger and he flinched.

She withdrew her hand immediately. "Does it still cause you pain?"

"No, but the memory does," he remarked bitterly. "I would have rather lost my other arm instead. What a pair we'd have made if that had been the case. Practically twins."

"Mmm." She stroked his furrowed brow until the tension in the muscles released. "It must be bothersome, having only half your vision."

"An understatement, surely." The bitterness had left his tone, but he was still very somber. Guilt suddenly washed over her.

"I'm so sorry, Gilbert," she blurted. "I was so frightened after you fell, I didn't think to make sure the area was clear. I should have seen those soldiers behind us. If I had I could've pushed you out of the way. I-"

He put a finger to her lips. "Hush, Violet. I never blamed you for a second. You must believe that."

She blinked. "But I failed. All I wanted was to protect you, and I failed."

"How can you say that?" he asked incredulously. "I'm alive, aren't I? Granted, you didn't know that for the last five years, but still. You did protect me, Violet! Countless times. If you hadn't fought alongside me in all those other battles, I would have been killed, without a doubt. I walked away from the war because of you. So please," he entreated, "don't say you failed. You have never failed me. You never could… okay?"

He watched her with a steady gaze, hoping she would would see his sincerity.

"Okay…" she mumbled.

"That sounds really convincing, Violet. You don't believe me?"

She pursed her lips. "There is nothing to suggest you aren't being truthful. So yes, I do believe you. But I still think you aren't completely correct. Perception is often relative."

"Yes, it is. But if I see you in a certain way, and you disagree, does that make what I see a lie?"

"No… not exactly," she huffed. "I'm not sure now. I certainly don't mean to tell you how you should feel. I guess it doesn't really matter all that much. If it will make you happy, I'll try to accept what you've said as the truth, then."

"It would make me over the moon."

"Does that mean 'happy'?"

"It sure does, Violet."

Reluctant to rise, they lingered in his bed. They spoke of nothing in particular, but watched each other as though starved. Words were slippery things, thought Violet, when compared to a look or a touch. Something niggled at her. More words would need to be said.

Her quiet voice filled the room. "There's something I wish to ask you. Something I should have asked before now."

"Go ahead," he urged.

"Well, I travel all the way out here because I've been requested by a client, ready to fulfill my sacred duty as a Doll, and then all of a sudden here you are. The only person I've wanted to see every moment of every day since I woke up in the hospital. I guess what I'm wondering is… why now? After all these years?"

In retrospect he should've expected the weighty question. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly as he thought of an answer.

"I… couldn't take it anymore," he concluded with a shrug. "Being alone. Being without you. I needed to see you again. It consumed me – it was all I could think about. Just to talk to you, hear your voice. I had to know I'd made the right choice, that everything I did was worth it because you thrived without me. I never dreamed you would forgive me for what I made you believe. I couldn't allow myself to hope that you might wish to be with me because you loved me, and not because I was your superior officer or your guardian once."

Violet contemplated this for several long minutes. "I'm glad you couldn't bear it any longer. Is that bad?"

"No, not at all. There were good reasons why I did what I did, Violet. And even though my actions hurt both of us, I don't think I would do it differently if I had the chance. You became an incredible, independent woman without me. You needed to learn to follow your own mind and heart… and I needed to learn to let you go."

She tenderly laid a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you, Violet. Not the other way around."

She deadpanned. "I require no thanks."

He chuckled. "Maybe not, but it's what you deserve just the same." He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear. "Thank you for loving me, Violet," he whispered.

She sighed contentedly as his arms threaded around her. "Yes, well, I must request that you don't do such a thing again. I found life very disagreeable while you were supposedly dead."

The vibration of his laugh rippled through her pleasantly as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. "I promise."

She sighed, appeased.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "We have to be at the train station soon…" he mumbled, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin.

"Yes."

"I must admit, I don't look forward to having this place all to myself again."

"I must get back to work," she declared with a shrug. "But you will come to Leiden, yes?"

"Of course. I imagine a week apart is the most I could suffer through. Will you be alright?"

"Yes. Knowing you're alive and that I haven't- oh," she stuttered. "Knowing you're alive is more than enough."

He looked at her curiously. "Haven't what, Violet?"

She blushed. "Knowing I haven't displeased you somehow," she admitted shyly, "with the life you asked me to live."

He shook his head and smiled. "I'm so proud of you. The woman you've become – it's more than I hoped and prayed for. More than anything, I just want you to be happy, Violet."

Her eyes shone with sudden moisture.

"I am happy, Gilbert… because I'm with you."

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A/N: I've been working furiously on this story the past few weeks and I finally have a general idea of where I want it to go. Thank you to all who've reviewed, followed, and favorited. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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Please Review, I'd love to hear what you think!

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