Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around!
I needed a bit of... well, ugh, angsty fluff, so we get a bit of that with this chapter.
I hope you'll like it anyway ;)
"Well, I think it's good that we decided to stay home after all," Jaime grimaces, looking out the window as the storm rages outside.
Things really improved lately.
At last.
Jaime stood true to his promise of trying harder. He limits himself to certain hours to watch TV and not to leave home – and went to see friends more often, even though that still leaves him with cold sweat most of the time because that is when he feels his stump itching most prominently. Social interaction is really difficult, because most people, despite their effort, keep looking at it, or don't know if he needs help with something, or if it's a touchy topic for him.
Jaime also started to work on his fitness again, to do something other than watching TV all day. And it actually gives him a better body feeling. He gets back in touch with the body he learned to hate ever since the incident, but the stronger his muscles become, the stronger he feels in turn, if only slightly.
But it's something.
Just like he and Brienne started dating again, well, dating in the broadest sense. At some point, going out for dinner in a restaurant in the evening still feels like a too fresh wound for both of them, and most of their shared hobbies no longer fit together that well because Jaime still has not the needed control for fighting, shooting, and the like.
So food-dates mostly consist of cooking at home, if not digging through takeaway, setting up a candle and calling it a candlelight date. And other dates are usually limited to going to the movies, seeing friends and showing up as a couple, and to both their apparent annoyance, walks in bright daylight alone, because it makes them feel old for some reason.
Dating used to be a lot easier when it wasn't filled with implications and possible fears looming above them.
But anything is better than what they had up to the point that they started it again, and both hold on to that option quite desperately now.
So tonight, they had a food-date with chicken soup. Jaime is glad for anything you can eat with just a spoon, because that tends to make him forget that he uses the other hand. The tension slowly but surely dissolves, though it's still looming above them for many aspects of life, but they get back in tune with the people they were before their life was turned upside-down.
"Well, they gave the warning in the weather broadcast earlier the day," Brienne shrugs as she dries the bowels from dinner.
"But that much?" Jaime makes a face. "We didn't have a storm that bad in years."
"Lamenting about it won't help. The storm will pass," Brienne shrugs.
"Yeah, well, I'm just so used to good weather. In Casterly Rock, it didn't rain until late autumn, and even then it was just rain," Jaime makes a face.
"My Father called today," Brienne says, walking into the living room.
"How is he?" Jaime asks.
"He's good, well, he is worried. At some point it still surprises me that he didn't tell me to pack my bags and come back to Tarth when he came here after the incident," Brienne huffs.
"I'm glad he didn't," Jaime huffs. "It was hard enough to get you away from there in the first place."
"When I got to know you, I already lived here," Brienne argues.
"And still your dear Father always has the invisible hand above your head," Jaime argues.
"You tell me," Brienne snorts.
It feels really nice.
It feels almost normal in their odd sense again.
Jaime opens his mouth for a reply when suddenly the room goes completely dark. He lets out a groan, "I hate storms – because of that. Blackouts. Ugh. Okay, let's see about the distribution board, then… where did I put the damned torch again…?"
Jaime shuffles through the room to one of the kitchen drawers until he feels the familiar object in his left hand. He readjusts his grip and gladly manages to switch on the almost blue light with a single try – and without letting it crash to the ground in the process. He flings it around a bit as the light flickers, "I need to change the batteries for that thing."
He shakes it a few more times, and at last the flickering stops.
Jaime already means to go for the distribution board when he hears the smallest of squeals and then a soft thud.
"Brie? Did you stumble or so?" he asks, whirling the torch in her direction, well, at least where he expected her to stand, but there is just the sofa.
"Brienne?" he grimaces, stepping away from the kitchen counter – to find her sitting on the ground, back pressed against the back of the couch, knees drawn up, long arms hugging her shins.
"Are you alright?" Jaime questions, stepping closer to her, but she turns her head away.
And that is when it dawns on Jaime.
Slightly blue light.
A torch flickering around in the darkness…
He silently curses to himself as he covers the last bit of distance to come to stand right in front of her.
"This is ridiculous," he can hear her mutter, pressing her lips against her upper arm, muffling some of her voice, a habit she has ever since he got to know her, if not longer. She does that when she is particularly ashamed of something, looking so much younger than she is, like a child almost.
Jaime sits down opposite her, "Not more ridiculous than what I did ever since the mugging."
"I did nightshifts, alright? I handled torches when we went through the basement at work the other day, but the moment you flickered around with it, I just… I don't know," Brienne admits feebly. "I don't know how that even happened."
She never had that until now. Brienne was honestly positively surprised that she didn't have what the doctors warned her about. She didn't feel afraid in the dark, she wasn't afraid of sex, she had no panic attacks.
Well, until now, as it seems.
Because now her heart pounds in her ears. She trembles, and she would like to run up to bed, pull the covers over her head, and never come out again. That were if she had the strength to move her legs.
"Well, it's probably all factors playing together this time. It's dark. Then the torch… and me here," Jaime reasons.
"I feel stupid," she grunts, disappointed with herself.
Brienne was never afraid of the dark, and now she jumps for something like this?!
"There's no need to," Jaime argues in a soft voice.
"You should go check on the distribution board. This will surely pass in a minute, and likely the moment on we have light again," Brienne snorts bitterly, feeling pathetic.
Does he feel like that all the while?
By the Gods, maybe she was too demanding after all.
However, when Brienne dares to look at Jaime again, she finds him moving next to her, resting his back against the couch as well, reaching out with his left hand to pull her close to him, both illuminated in the shine of the blue light that he set on the ground to shine against the other wall.
And suddenly, the white-blue light is no longer that threatening.
Because blue is a calming colour.
"You don't have to comfort me, it's…," she means to say, but he cuts her off, "I have to and I want to."
Because this might be one of those moments to prove to her that he is her partner after all, who helps her like she helps him, even though it is considerably little what Jaime does.
"We're seemingly both messed up," Brienne sighs as he pulls her against his chest, finding solace in the heartbeat she can feel even through the layers of clothing and skin. It's like a metronome.
"Yeah, we're both still pretty messed up," Jaime exhales.
"Maybe I have to quit my job now. If I'm afraid in the dark," Brienne snorts sadly. Jaime kisses her on the temple, "You could cry like a madwoman and Renly would still give you a promotion, or a self-made medal with lots of glitter. In case you didn't know, you can do whatever you want there, because of him."
"I want to do my job right," she argues, the smallest of smiles returning to her face as her heartbeat starts to sync with his.
"And you do it righter than right," Jaime smiles, leaning his cheek against the side of her head. "You always did."
He has never seen someone that devoted to her job and her working place like Brienne. While Jaime prides, or now prided himself with a strong work ethic despite the fact that he didn't like his colleagues, Brienne really put another level to it. Because she is not just devoted to her job, but to the people for whom she does that job. She always wants to do things in perfection, and not just to crave attention or to receive praise, but simply because she wants to prove everyone that she deserves to be there, that she deserves this job, that she works for it every single day.
"Well, we already said it, nothing is like it used to," Brienne sighs. "I get panic attacks if you wave with a white-blue torch around in the dark – and you have to cope with the loss of your hand. And here I thought I was the one who'd be able to keep it up."
She is seemingly not as strong as she thought.
Or as strong as he thought she was.
"You did, believe me that much," Jaime argues. "But I guess I'm still good enough at holding you close. So why shouldn't you rely on me in that regard, hm?"
Because it's alright to rely on each other, or so he reckons, hopes.
Even if Jaime doesn't feel like he has much to offer yet, his body still fits about perfectly for her to sneak up against. They realised that very early on in their relationship. While they don't match in size, they fitted perfectly together when lying on the couch or the bed.
Her shoulder fits right in the space where his arm and his chest meet. Her chin fits perfectly in the dip between his collarbone and shoulder. Like that, they are two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.
"I trust you," she whispers into the darkness, not looking at him. And Jaime has to try his best to just go on running his arm up and down hers instead of crying out in laughter, in relief, or bursting out in tears.
Because he knows how much it means for Brienne to say that. Mean that.
That she trusts him despite all the things that happened lately.
That she trusts him when he failed to keep her safe and protected for an achingly long time.
That she trusts him to hold him in a situation of pure weakness.
"Are we just going to stay here in the dark?" she asks after a while, feeling a bit ridiculous at the fact that she starts to feel so stupidly comfortable like this.
"Do you want to get up?" he replies.
"Not really," Brienne shrugs against his shoulder.
"Then how about we make this a torchlight dinner?" he suggests.
"Sounds alright to me," Brienne smiles softly, daring to lean against him even more, listening to his heartbeat, his metronome.
Her metronome.
And Jaime dares to hold her close.
They are both messed up.
But they are here.
They both are.