Chapter Four

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During her stay, Violet learned quickly to discern her former Major's moods and intentions, a surge of pride washing through her at how well she could read the man she loved. Gilbert, in turn, was awed by everything she did and said. She clearly did not suppress her thoughts and feelings in the perfunctory way she had when she was a child, and for him especially, it was a wonder that she expressed herself at all. It was so new to him, he hardly knew how to react but with silent admiration. Within days he came to realize just how much being a Doll must have taught and shaped her. His chest tightened every time she smiled or laughed, even more so when it was because of something he did or said.

But what Gilbert discovered he strangely enjoyed, was watching her make tea. Such a mundane, everyday task, yet she flitted from one step to the next with a soft intensity. Filling the kettle with water, placing it gently on the stove, tending to the flame beneath. Then, measuring the tea leaves carefully before tipping each spoonful into the pot. It was purposeful, sure. She knew what she needed to do and when. Vaguely he wondered when she'd learned these things. He winced when he remembered it had been while she had thought him dead. He marveled that she'd had the courage to keep living when she found out. If their roles had been reversed, he was certain he wouldn't have. As it was, he distinctly recalled praying for death before each battle if she were to be taken from him.

She was much stronger than he ever could be. Somehow this girl, who had been through what no human being should ever suffer, had come out the other side unbroken in spirit and… happy. And she loved him. She loved him.

It was all Gilbert could do not to interrupt her a thousand times a day by taking her into his arms and kissing her senseless. In the times when he couldn't help himself, Violet would squeak in surprise before kissing him back. He thought it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

And when the time came for her to leave, she tried to find a shred of the bravery she once had as a soldier. She'd rushed headlong into countless battles with dangers unknown at every turn. Her life and his were always on the line, and yet now, saying goodbye felt like the blow that might just destroy her.

"It won't be for long," he promised, as he brushed away the unbidden wetness beneath her sorrowful eyes.

"I'm happy to be returning to work, but… I don't want to leave you," she cried miserably.

"Believe me, Violet, I want nothing more than for you to stay here with me forever. Someday you and I will never have to say goodbye again. Until that day comes, we'll just have to grin and bear it."

"Grin and bear it," she repeated with a harsh swallow.

Enveloping her small frame and pressing his cheek to hers, he promised he would visit her in a week as they'd discussed. She said she'd be waiting for him at the station when he arrived in Leiden. Still teary-eyed, she kissed him one last time, the first she'd ever initiated, and boarded the train. As soon as she found a seat she opened the window and peered out at him.

"Don't worry," he called above the whistle. "We'll be together again before you know it."

She nodded and the train began to move. She leaned out the window as he kept pace alongside.

"One week, Violet. Don't forget."

"I won't."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Gilbert."

He stopped at the end of the platform and watched as she was carried away from him.

Violet could still see him standing at the edge of the station for a few more seconds before the train picked up its speed. She stared until he was a speck in the distance, then nothing.

She pulled herself back into the compartment and closed the window.

Leaning back into the seat cushion and closing her eyes, Violet tried to steady her breathing. This wasn't forever… Only a week and she would see him again. Even if he had wanted nothing more to do with her, just knowing he was alive would've been enough for her, and she'd told him as much. She would have survived that, surely she could survive this. He always kept his promises, so why was she worried?

"I suppose worry is only natural when you love someone," Violet mused aloud.

"Yes, Dearie. It certainly comes with the territory."

Her eyes shot open and found an elderly woman seated across from her. She was short and very slim, with silver hair that framed her face. Her eyes were dull with age, but Violet could tell they'd once been a deep shade of amber. They peered at Violet through thick-lensed spectacles knowingly.

"I saw you with your young man just now. He's a handsome one," she winked.

"We've only just found each other again..." Violet told her, a blush creeping up her neck to think of her beloved Major as her young man.

The woman placed a wrinkled hand over Violet's and patted it consolingly. "Goodbyes are never easy. Was it the war?"

Violet nodded.

"So many loved ones lost… but it does this old heart good to see that one was found. If only there were more happy endings…"

"Yes," Violet acknowledged soberly. Bloody images flashed before her eyes and she tried in vain to overpower them. Everything in her body went heavy and she found she hardly had the strength to speak. That was fine, she didn't know what to say anyway. The heaviness in her heart for the things she had done would always be with her.

The trip back would take the better part of a day and she silently cursed Gilbert for living so far away from Leidenschaftlich. He had certainly made sure she never would have found him by accident. He'd done a thorough job of convincing the world of his death, and the thought filled her with a deep and familiar sadness. His death may have been a lie, but her grief had been very real. It would take a long time to heal from the damage.

As the landscape outside the window sped past, she wondered if she would go to live with Gilbert. Would she still be able to do her job? Could she still be a Doll? She hoped she wouldn't have to give it up, but at the same time, she knew it would be the last thing Gilbert would ever ask her to do. She sighed, there was no use thinking of it now, she would have to wait until she saw him next.

Just a week - seven days and she would be in his arms again. She'd waited five years… she could survive seven days.

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The war.

Gilbert tried not to think about it, but such a thing was impossible and probably madness.

Four years they'd been together. In those four years, he'd found his purpose in life. To teach a girl who didn't know what love was what it meant to love, and to be loved in return. He hadn't wanted anything out of his life before Violet entered it. He made teaching her to speak and read and write his duty. It was the least he could do for her. He shuddered, remembering vividly a time when the only word she understood was "kill." And then the shame; when he thought of the way he'd been forced by his superiors to use her as a weapon.

When he woke to see her still form in the hospital bed beside his, he almost lost his mind when he couldn't rouse her. The nurses had tried in vain to placate him, his condition still fragile, but he didn't hear a word they said. He prayed for death to take him then and there if she was dead. Hodgins had shown up soon after to find his friend sedated and nearly inconsolable. Claudia told him Violet was put into a coma so she could heal properly from her injuries.

"They'll wake her in a few days, Gilbert. She's okay, really."

He nodded, finally giving in to the calm the sedative had forced on him, finally understanding that she had made it. They both had. "I've decided something. I'm going to need to call in a favor from you, Hodgins."

A nurse was busy tending to the bandage at his shoulder joint where some of the sutures around his new mechanical prosthetic had been torn and begun to bleed from his struggle. He endured the prodding as best he could.

"Sure thing, Gil. Name it."

"I'm going to go away. Away from Leiden… Away from her." He swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise as he said the words, disgusted with himself but knowing deep inside it would be for the best in the end.

Claudia eyed the nurse warily, then stared at Gilbert questioningly. Finally, she finished hovering over him and left the two men alone. Only the steady blip, blip, blip of Violet's heart rate monitor filled the room.

"I… I need you tell Violet I didn't survive." He attempted to sit up but winced at the pain in his shoulder. "Don't tell her I'm alive. You have to promise me, Hodgins."

His friend stared at him for a moment, as understanding dawned on him. "But, why?!" Claudia asked incredulously. "That girl needs you! She doesn't have anyone else."

"She needs to find her own path," he grunted, repositioning himself on the bed. "She can't follow my orders forever."

"Really, Gilbert, you can't possibly-"

"It is my express wish that you look after her," he bit back sharply. "Remember, you promised me you would if anything happened to me. Please, Hodgins. You're my closest friend, the only one I trust to look out for her. She can't know."

Hodgins ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Why are you doing this? It will kill her."

Gilbert locked his gaze on Violet. She appeared younger and more vulnerable than she had in years, and he released a pained sigh. Sleep was playing the wicked temptress when all he wanted to do was continue to watch over her.

"I'm doing this because I love her. She'll be fine without me… She has to be..."

Claudia scratched the back of his head. "What about you?" he asked gently. "Will you be alright?"

"As long as she is alive and well…" he trailed off. Gilbert knew full well he would never be alright, but he was ready to make the sacrifice if it meant Violet would be free of the army and taking orders ever again.

Claudia tried to hide the pity he felt acutely for his friend. He gave a solemn nod. "I'll take care of her, Gil. I swear."

"Thank you…" Gilbert sighed. His good eye fell shut and his breathing evened as the sedative finally forced him into unconsciousness.

When Violet eventually woke, the only man she wanted to see would not be there. He would be miles away, never to return again.

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Gilbert tossed onto his back with a huff. Vainly he fought for sleep, but he soon realized that he couldn't without her by his side. Two weeks she'd spent in his home, and most nights spent beside her in the same bed, and already he was a mess without her. He had spent so many years away from her, and yet now he could barely think one thought that didn't contain her. And yet it was a welcome madness.

The moment he left the train station, he'd immediately gone to the jeweler's shop in town.

"Hey Boss," the older man behind the counter greeted with a friendly smile. It was a nickname many townsfolk proprietors had taken to calling him, as most of their patrons worked for Gilbert.

"Hello there, Stan." Gilbert walked over to the counter and gave him a handshake. "How's Melody?"

"Back's been giving her some trouble, but other than that she's fine all 'round." Stan's wrinkled face scrunched as he peered through his glasses at Gilbert. "What can I do for ya? You don't come in here much."

Gilbert grinned. "Actually… I'm looking for a ring."

"No kiddin'?! Who's the lucky lady?"

"A girl I've loved for a very long time, Stan."

The old man smiled knowingly. "Well, you just have yourself a good look around. Unless you have something specific in mind? Could even place a custom order if nothing in here'll do."

"Thank you."

Gilbert had a vague idea of what he wanted for Violet. It had to be just right. He told her he wanted to be her husband, and nothing had ever felt truer. But he hadn't asked her to marry him outright, and she deserved to have that. He tried to ignore the niggling feeling in his stomach that something was holding him back as he vowed to himself he would never take a moment for granted, every second with her was invaluable. But a ring, he could pick out a ring without a problem. It was the asking her part he wished to push off.

Her tastes tended to be based on practicality, simplicity even. She was never one to be attracted to things just because they were shiny or pretty… except for that brooch. The one time she'd been given the freedom to choose something, anything, all for herself, she had picked something that would remind her of him. And she still wore it proudly at her throat.

It was all I had left of you that I could touch, she'd told him.

That's when he knew it had to be an emerald, one to match her brooch. Diamonds were beautiful, but would hold no significance to her. And the band, it should be gold. A precious metal for a precious woman whose heart was made up of the same refined mettle.

Carefully, he examined each ring as he made his way about the shop. When he wandered toward the case by the wall opposite the register he stopped short.

There it was.

The sight of it sitting in its case of black velvet almost stole his breath away. The emerald was rich and deep like her brooch, an exact match for his eye color. The stone was oval cut, with a delicate gold leaf crusted with tiny diamonds curled against it on each side. The effect was stunning.

"Find somethin' you like?"

Gilbert stepped to the side, whipping his head over his shoulder. He hadn't heard Stan walk up next to him. "Y-yes actually. That one there, with the gold leaves," he said. "It's perfect."

Keyring in hand, Stan miraculously picked the correct one out among the cluster and unlocked the cabinet. He took the velvet box cautiously into his wrinkled hand, delicately pinched the ring between crinkled fingertips and held it up to the light. "That's a mighty pretty one. Not a lot of people buy emeralds. Always wantin' a diamond for their lady. Not yours, eh? I bet she's mighty special."

"She is the most important person in my life."

The older shopkeeper grinned. "Well if this is the one, let's get it cleaned up and ready for ya. It's been in that case a mighty long time, I tell ya. Mighty long time. Glad it'll belong to somebody now."

Stan took the ring into the back and polished it until it would gleam in even the faintest of light. When he came out and handed it to Gilbert, he gave the young man a pat on the shoulder. "I'm happy for ya, Boss. You know, Melody and I have been married for almost forty-five years, and I still fall in love with her all over again every morning. When it's right, it's really right, Boss. So, is it? Is it really right?"

Gilbert swallowed almost nervously under the older man's piercing gaze. But then an image of waking beside Violet as she lay basked in the golden light of the morning entered his mind and he took a deep, but sure, breath. "Yes," he answered evenly. "It is."

Another firm slap to the shoulder. "Let's get you settled here, then!"

As Gilbert exited the shop and wandered down the street, he thought he'd float up and disappear into the clouds were it not for the the slight weight of the ring box in his jacket pocket. The weight of the future it symbolized anchored his feet firmly to the ground. He hadn't even haggled with Stan for it; the price was more than fair.

He couldn't wait to see the look on Violet's face when he presented it to her.

He itched for the day when they would never have to be apart again. But, he remembered, they needed time to sort through the past and the future. No matter how much they loved each other, jumping immediately into married life might do more harm than good. Years apart stood between them, in which they had both grown and changed. They needed to get to know each other again, and that would just take time. But despite all that, he knew if he tried to ask her now, he would hesitate. And he didn't want to admit to himself the reason why, so he pushed it away and forced his mind onto other matters.

He wondered if he should tell his brother he was alive. Dietfried would of course be livid, of that Gilbert was sure. The main reason he hadn't told him was because Gilbert didn't want anything to do with the army ever again. He was finished with that life long before the Battle of Intense and worried that if word had gotten back to headquarters that they would rope him into more years of service, and "request" his "weapon" serve alongside him again. No matter if there wasn't another war, there would always be small factions of resistance to be taken care of, and he vowed to never put Violet in a position like that again. She deserved far more than to be chained to him, a slave to his orders, ever again.

But it had been five years. That was another reason he wanted to see Violet now. Gilbert thought it had been long enough that, should the military discover he was still alive, they would leave him alone. He had a choice now. He was a decorated veteran in death, they would respect his refusal of service in life now that peace, for the most part, had been achieved between the warring nations. And if it came down to the matter of Violet, he would lie. She was no longer fit for service, and it was true in its own way. Violet told him she vowed never to kill again, even at the expense of her own life, and he wholeheartedly believed her. That being the case, the military would want nothing to do with her anyway.

But Dietfried… he was no longer the man Gilbert had always looked up to. Gilbert first noticed it the moment his brother had clutched the hair of a starved, dirty child, and threw her violently at Gilbert's feet in a sort of sick offering of congratulations on his promotion to Major. He would never forget the look of twisted pleasure on his brother's face when her bony limbs made impact with the hardwood floor. Yet, she hadn't made a sound of protest or pain. Violet had sat there, head down in submissions for it had broken Gilbert's heart. How could his brother be so cruel? Gilbert had never even allowed himself to wonder just what had gone on between them before Dietfried had turned the burden of her over to him. And he could never bring himself to ask her. Truthfully, he didn't want to know the extent of his brother's depravity.

Gilbert hated to admit it, but the thought of being in the same room as his brother unnerved him. The way he'd treated Violet over the years was needlessly harsh when she had clearly been grieving for the same person as he. Dietfried had told her to keep her promise to Gilbert, and then die when she was finished. It made Gilbert sick.

Was it finally time for the youngest Bougainvillea bother to return? Gilbert wasn't sure. Everything he'd built here would do fine without him. He didn't necessarily have to oversee the factories and farms anymore; other people could be trusted with those responsibilities in his stead. Still, he was reluctant to the idea. It would mean being a part of the aristocracy again, a world he didn't miss but would be forced back into. Cocktail parties and mind-numbing holiday balls and the young daughters of wealthy families paraded before him like prized chattel and not human beings. Those things had amused him briefly when he was a younger man, he couldn't care less for them now.

That was before the war; before Violet.

The Bougainvillea family had dwindled since his father died, many of Gilbert's uncles and cousins had been killed in action. There were only Gilbert and Dietfried left of the old military family now, and neither of them had the hope of an heir yet. Gilbert was exhausted by the mere thought of it all.

No decisions had to be made just yet, he had only just been reunited with Violet.

Time, he reminded himself.

It will just take time.

A/N: Thank you for your patience. I haven't been able to work on this as much as I would like cuz life, lol. Thanks for the reviews! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, the story is going to start picking up a little bit soon, but like I said, this is one of those slow ones. :)

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