Thanks so much for your thoughtful comments. Onward…
4
"Alright, alright – now speed it up but don't lose focus – fantastic, Leia, great!" Luke enthused, deftly sparring with his sister, each of them skillfully maneuvering a long wooden pole.
"Damn right!" Leia laughed, whipping her hair back over her shoulder and jabbing more forcefully. Han grinned, looking up from the work on the Falcon – he hadn't heard her laugh like that in so long, confident and ringing and pleased with herself. They'd been camped out in the further depths of Endor for a while now, on some mandatory R&R, just the three of them after having dropped Chewie off on Kashyyyk – time for Luke to start training Leia, time for the three of them to give their friendship some much-needed attention, time for Han to fix up his ship. It had been – shockingly easy and comfortable, hanging out together, taking it easy, drinking liquor around a fire in the evenings… if it hadn't been for Luke and Leia's parentage and all that damn trauma hanging over their heads…
"Okay now don't get cocky, don't get cocky – yes – come on, come on now!"
"I'll show you cocky––!"
"Keep your feet solid, firm – feel the earth––"
"Ha!"
"Close!"
"You're so – spritely, ugh!"
"You're keeping up! Keep going!"
"Ah – aha!"
"And – gotcha!" Luke declared, reaching out to shake her hand. Leia smiled, really smiled, and shook his hand, breathing heavily. "That was fantastic, Lei – we've just got to work on your focus – when you trust the Force, you'll become much quicker…"
"I do think I felt it this time," she said, panting and flashing another brilliant smile. Han couldn't help but look a little closer – the way her hair, slick with sweat, clung to her forehead, the gleam of perspiration on the hint of cleavage peeking out from her shirt, the sound of her hot, heavy breathing. Gods, the idea of her with her lightsaber – was it crazy that it was such a turn-on?
All that, coupled with her satisfied laugh, brought him back instantly to the day before. She'd been helping him on the underbelly of the ship, reaching all those little places he couldn't, funny and charming and clever beside him. She looked so good, purposeful and determined and covered with the grease of work – with a task in front of her, she seemed so much more herself. And he could tell it made her feel good, being competent and purposeful.
And he could tell it made her feel good because as they were finishing up and lying on their backs she was just smiling up at him, coy and kind of shy, shyer than he'd ever seen her, something sweet about it even though it was un-Leia-like, and then she was kissing him, and they were suddenly really making out, her shirt coming off, her not stopping even when she could feel that he was hard, going at it. She'd had to stop eventually, of course, but it wasn't so traumatic or abrupt, more like she just slowed down and kissed his jaw affectionately… she'd seemed okay. A little off her game, but okay.
"How about we cool down with some meditation?"
"Sounds good," Leia said, smiling genuinely. "Seated across from each other again?"
"Yes ma'am."
"That's yes, General to you, Skywalker," she chastised teasingly, and she sat down gamely in the grass. Shit, he was proud of her – proud of her for committing to this and challenging herself and making use of her time off even when she so resented it…
Han looked up idly just in time to notice her hair continue to buzz up, up, up, wafting towards the sky like an electrocuted halo. Nothing new there – for the past few days he'd seen her hair rise up like that when she and the kid did their whole meditation thing. I usually lift stones, but that works too, Luke had said, chuckling, when in her concentration her hair slipped itself out of its coils and into an approximation of her old revolutionary buns. Pretty cool, though – the way Luke was able to smooth out those angry furrowed brows by saying just let go… concentrate… that's really great Leia, you're doing great!
(Pretty cool except it sort of hurt his heart that she'd suddenly gotten much less precious about her hair, since. Seeing her with it down so often was – a lot. There was a time when he would've taken that as her loosening up, but now…)
This time seemed no different – across from each other, legs crossed, eyes shut, pebbles rising on Luke's side and Leia's hair flying, watching tension and stress seem to melt off her face. He knew that had taken time, too – to be able to close her eyes like that, he saw how her spine had only now really gotten out of that rigid, paranoid posture that had always been hers but now had increased ten-fold. "Really trust your feelings Leia – you just have to trust, stop blocking, I know you can do it." Han shook his head with a crooked grin, then returned to his tinkering on the underside of the Falcon. Sunshine, soft grass, his ship, relaxed princess – what more could you want?
It basically took only a second – one minute all was still but the sounds of metal on metal and Luke's quiet instructions – "Don't block, just let yourself feel, it's fine, it's all trust you know?", but and then suddenly he heard a kind of sound like rope whipping, jerked out from under the Falcon, and watched as, fast as a whip, all of her hair pulled straight up, yanked itself into long twisted coil – like at Jabba's, he realized as he noticed her scrunched up, agonized, eyes-closed face – and then her be tugged back violently so she slid, fucking slid meters back, her neck jerking hard––
"Hey, kid, cut it out!" Han shouted, getting out from under the ship and striding over –
"It's not me, she's doing it, Leia––!" Luke insisted, stumbling to his feet and rushing over to her, and then in another second it was like it had dropped her, whatever it was – the Force, her Force, her power – and she was gasping, her eyes wide and unseeing, trembling like a leaf.
Luke was moving in on her, and Han had enough reasoning in him to stop him, sticking out a firm halting hand at Luke to give her a decent bubble of space. "Hey," he said to her, his voice very low, bending slightly so he wasn't towering over her too much. "You alright?"
Leia was still gasping, out of breath and shaking but with some color back in her features. "I am – yes – I'm…"
"Leia––" Luke began, looking out of breath and terrified, but Han shoved his hand more aggressively before squatting in front of Leia.
"Talk to me, sweetheart. Help me out, yeah?"
"I'm – okay, Han, please, you're – making a fuss of nothing, I..." she gasped, trying to smile weakly and shoving her quivering hands between her legs. "I'm not quite sure what happened, Luke, this feeling, but––"
"I don't – I felt – Leia––"
"I'm going – I need – I might do well with some – tea…" she managed, and she put her weight heavily on Han's bicep to help herself to her feet. Right, he remembered, she had switched to tea because caffeine could amp up anxiety. She nodded firmly at them both as she headed unsteadily to the Falcon, her body all stiff with the posture of being fearful, on edge. "I – I am okay, I am, I just need – I need a break, a breather…"
"Leia!" Luke was calling, louder now, but she seemed to only ignore him more determinedly.
After reassuring Luke brusquely, he headed up the ramp behind her. Could tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she'd done a bit of crying. She was doing her best to make tea with her very shaky hands – shaky was the wrong word, shaky sounded girlish and delicate, it was more like a seizure. He knew better than to offer to help her even though the clattering of the mug against the hot plate made him grimace. The kind of thing that made her feel embarrassed, annoyed. Yeah, he was learning fast.
Instead, he cleared his throat and asked in a low voice, "You want me to try an' get ahold of Lorne?" That was Lorne as in Lorne Tinah, the shrink Mothma had personally made the princess's talking to a direct order, five half hour sessions til she could resume active duty, not that he was complaining. Anyway, apparently it was standard practice for this kind of thing, and this one middle-aged twi'lek was the one who handled it in this particular military. The Rebel rape specialist, he'd thought grimly.
She was decent enough, from what he could tell. He didn't really believe in shrinks but if it helped her he was all for it. Leia'd talked to her via holo a few times since they'd gotten here, mostly practicalities it seemed like from the voices that'd waft through the shift, like how much sleep she was able to get, perfunctory updates on her days. He was surprised, honestly, that she'd taken to it so easily, but her reasoning was quintessential Leia: all I believe in treating what's injured, you'll never see me running on a badly broken leg, if this is the recommended approach I'll do whatever it takes to be able to get back to what's truly important. A test of her ability to endure maturely, a mandatory physical therapy type thing she was determined to excel at. I just want to beat this and move on, Han.
Han wasn't nearly so good at being clinical about it. He doubted she would ever really be able to compartmentalize this whole thing but if she could more power to her — he still felt that kind of stabbing pain in his chest that was where guilt and grief lived: Your fault, your fault, your fault. Way back when he'd had a girlfriend who he accidentally elbowed in the eye one time while in bed — she didn't mind walking around with a black eye but he felt a visceral disgusted shame and had broken it off. He hated the idea that he felt shame around Leia but when she said it all was worth it how could he not?
Anyway, he'd "met" Lorne once – an excruciatingly uncomfortable conversation that had been the next-day follow-up to an excruciatingly uncomfortable night, which had started out normal enough but then ended with her insistently going down on him for the first time since Bespin only to blank out, go full paralysis and and choke midway through. Maybe not the worst moment of his life, that split second of her zoned out while gagging, but definitely in the top tier. The bit right after, where he'd frantically yanked her up to eye-level and called her name and snapped in front of her face until she came to, dry-heaving and shivering and surprised – that was also in that top tier. So when Leia'd said, polite and responsible, She'd like to talk to both of us, he'd conceded, though he'd barely kept it together while she grasped his hand and they listened to some fucking self-righteous projection light-years away explain the mental situation behind dissociative episodes. When he'd cleared his throat and muttered awkwardly that maybe y'know they were pushin' it, little too soon, and she'd said There's no reason you must wait if everything feels fine physically and you're both desiring, and Leia had gotten this wounded look of you-don't-desire-me? Yeah, that Lorne.
Leia gave a hoarse little laugh. "I think this might be outside her purview."
He shrugged. "Still might help. Talk you down a little."
"I don't need talking down," she said, her voice adopting a bit of an edge, and he held up his hands as if in surrender. She placed her palms flat on the table, breathed deeply, nodded to herself. "I am okay. I am. I just – I was rattled. It was very – visceral."
"S'a memory, or…?"
"Sort of – it's hard to – I just feel – I feel a bit vulnerable, I feel a bit – exposed, right now. Like – ah." He could tell she was struggling, her expression cross with effort as she stirred sweetener into her tea. "I feel as though I could be very easily found, as though I had been."
Han sighed heavily, moving closer to her, stopping when he saw her recoil and settling his hands in his back pockets. Watched her track them. "Ain't no one comin' after you, sweetheart."
"Yes of course I know that, on an intellectual level, obviously, but…" She trailed off and rested her head on the table, all that long hair forming a thick, protective curtain.
He patted the back of her hand in a way he hoped was soothing. "Listen, you don't gotta do any of that Force crap if you don't want to. Can take a break as long as you want."
She jerked up. "I know that," she said again, this time seeming annoyed. "But I want to. I want to be able to learn to use this power — it isn't fair that it should be made difficult for me."
"Yeah. None of it's fair, huh?"
"I don't want to be so afraid." The very slight hitch in her voice made it clear she was talking about more than just meditation, broke his fucking heart. "It makes me — feel angry, and sad, and weak and depersonalized — I don't get afraid, I'm not a — flinchy, nervous woman, that isn't me."
Yeah, he knew, that wasn't her. Leia who wanted to try everything, who could confidently master anything, who was adventurous and determined and believed that with diligence and patience any task could be completed. Who'd breathlessly declared, one time when he was inside her, that she wanted him to fuck her in zero-G. Who told him he was beautiful, pushing him onto his back to ride him. Where did all that Leia go — out the airlock, up in flames like the sail barge, into the heap of burning rock where she'd chucked that damn bikini? What happened to it? They both knew she didn't look the same without it...
"Hey now," he muttered, doing his best to pretend he didn't share her anxiety — at finding that invulnerable person, at whether or not she could be effectively reconstructed if only she took the medicine, talked to the shrink, took plenty of relaxing showers and had a boyfriend to get her cold water when she lost herself in memory. He wanted to hold her. Badly. But the way she had her knees drawn up to her chest, the way she let her chin rest on top of them, stared out tiredly, made herself small, made him feel like he shouldn't.
"I don't know what more I can be doing," she said, sounding vacant and exhausted. "I just want it gone."
"I know, sweetheart." He tried to catch her eyes but couldn't, she was avoiding his. "S'time, I guess."
"It isn't fair."
"I know." He watched her levitate some of her hair idly, small, delicate strands lifting into teensy braids, her power so nimble, so smart, so Leia. "Pretty," he offered, finally securing eye contact and giving her a (weak, he knew, he was trying really hard, really hard, but…) half-smile.
She grimaced, and all the hair collapsed. "It's all ruined now," she said, holding up a few firstfuls with distaste.
"What, your hair?"
Another curt nod. "It's meaningless, it's just ruined, it doesn't even matter anymore."
Han was caught off guard. Did she want him to validate how she was feeling? Tell her she was wrong? Play dumb and act like it really was just about hair? Gods, she knew better than this – she knew that she wasn't ruined in any way, not to him, she knew that–– "Not true, princess," he insisted firmly, unable to help himself.
Her eyes were hard and unrelenting. "It's not a matter of opinion, it's just – spoiled, it's been ruined and spoiled, that's the fact of the matter," she snapped.
And then he was pointing at her and demanding harshly that she understand, "Not a damned thing about you's been spoiled, princess, alright? Not a damned thing," so upset and angry that someone, someones, could ever had made her believe such crap that it took him a second to realize she'd sprung backwards skittishly, but when he did he could see it clearly, her eyes wide on his finger, and he dropped it uncomfortably, cursing under his breath – which in turn made her flush with humiliation at being caught being scared for no reason, shutting her eyes and looking like she wished she were anywhere but there––
Just then, Luke appeared, having quietly come up the ramp. "Hey," he said quietly, walking over to them and pausing for a second before heading to the 'fresher. They heard him brush his teeth in the tense silence. She dropped her head back to her knees. Han gripped the table to avoid losing it.
"Sorry I didn't come in sooner," Luke said as he stood awkwardly before them. "I…"
"You threw up." Leia, sitting up again, steadying herself, sighing.
"Yeah." He sat down beside her without hesitation, frowning a little, looking down.
Leia's voice was tired and contemplative. "Did you see it all or just feel it?"
"I felt it," the kid confessed, shaking his head just barely, hugging around his abdomen tenderly, looking pale. "It really – hurt," he said, looking up at her then, a little wide-eyed, like both horror and being impressed, at her strength, stamina, whatever it was that made his girl, Luke's sister, someone who could survive anything.
She gave a little surprised, wry well-yeah-you-don't-say chuckle, still looking at her knees. But she offered out a hand, barely moving, and her brother squeezed it hard, and put his other arm around her without hesitating, and when she leaned into the contact, he kissed her hair – and suddenly it was Han who felt like he was intruding. Making the suddenly safe place feel – unsafe for her. Luke had felt it? He'd feel it all. If it would take it away. He'd do it for her––
And he couldn't move past spoiled, either. Something was happening, he didn't know what – it was like for the first few days she'd been this barely-hanging-on performer, all perfectly-okay-nothing's-happened with terror sometimes spilling out the seams. Now it was like she couldn't stop thinking about it? But also that she just wanted it to end? It seemed more – real, it seemed heavier, it seemed more permanent, it seemed…
"A lot of fear too," Luke added cautiously. More twin-sense, great. Leia pressed her lips together firmly and nodded, her eyes dropping to stare at her knees. "Which… is understandable but worrisome, because..."
"'Fear leads to anger,' and so on, yes I know," Leia said.
"Which isn't to say you shouldn't feel those things––"
"Well good, because I do. I do feel them, all the time – fear, and anger. I feel those things – all the time. Constantly."
Luke sighed and kissed her hair again. All that hair.
After a long while, the two of them were still sitting quietly, close and contemplative, and Han found himself feeling – antsy. There'd been a time when he could just spend so much time with her, with both of them really – on the Falcon on missions, all of 'em in the lounge, idle, Leia reading and squinting and drinking kaffe, Luke idly cleaning his saber, him fusing some ancient wires. Calm, contented silence, even in the middle of the goddamn war. Now he was waiting for something bad to happen – he needed to stop that – thinking then and now, then and now. He still hadn't read the report.
He still hadn't read it. Maybe he wasn't ever going to. Which felt cowardly – she'd lived the whole thing, and he couldn't even bear to read it? But also it felt like reading it was a breach of her privacy? She said she didn't want to ever say those words to him. Lying in bed with her, last night, holding her, keeping the pressure on, stroking all that long hair: you're beautiful, I love you, you're beautiful, I love you. It's like he thought maybe if he really made himself vulnerable in front of her, she wouldn't feel so embarrassed for having to be vulnerable as well? But maybe she'd feel better if he were strong, you know, pretending everything was fine – that's what he tried at during the day…
"I think," Leia said after a long while, her voice sounding more stable, more at ease, "that that took quite a bit out of me. So I'd like to lie down for a while?" She looked at both of them, searching their faces, as if to see if this constituted normal behavior or pathology – she'd never taken naps before. But then again she'd never trained as a Jedi before, either.
"Alright, you want me to wake you up?" Han asked, trying to be casual.
"If I'm not out in an hour?" she asked, and she stood up and moved to kiss him, throwing her arms around his neck in an unusual display of affection – he'd take it, he let his arms rest loosely around her waist, leaned down to nudge his forehead against hers.
"Leia?" Luke said seriously. "About what you were just saying – I'll seek some guidance, okay? About your training, given what's happened to you – surely you can't be meant to just let go of all these feelings in order to make use of your power. That's – I just can't believe that."
It was a reference to these Force ghosts he apparently talked to, and it was the wrong thing to say. Han could feel her stiffening in his arms, her chin going rigid, her shoulders tense. "I don't think," she said slowly, not turning to look at Luke, "a quasi-council of dead old men need to know the ins and outs of my trauma."
"Of course, Leia," Luke said earnestly, horrified at offending her, "but under traditional teachings, you know, I'd be telling you to just release, forget, forgive, and I think if Obi-wan and Yoda and Anakin understood what you're really up against here, they might know of another way––"
"'Anakin,'" she echoed with the barest hint of a scoff, shutting her eyes.
"Sweetheart," Han said in a low voice, massaging her spine a bit and holding her tighter, trying to give her that pressure she said made her feel alright, "kid's just tryin' to help."
"He cares for you––" Luke began, and Han wanted to clobber him.
Leia whipped her head to the side, still held tightly in Han's arms, her eyes flashing. "You can tell 'Anakin' that his 'daughter' didn't much appreciate having her lover tortured then tossed to a den of slavers and rapists." She let out a crisp, nasty, ice-cold laugh and Han held her tighter, trying to keep her even the slightest bit calm, embracing equivalent of a hush now right now–– "You can tell 'Anakin' all about what his favored bounty hunter hire thinks of his 'daughter', thinks she's worth––"
"Leia, I'm sorry––!" Luke insisted, but Han's head was too busy spinning to notice she was trying to get away, get out of his arms, tug him off of her––
"It's not you!" Leia was snapping, still in his grip but no longer fighting it, just twisted towards her brother, her whole body shaking with fear and anger, "It's him, don't you dare tell that thing about what's been done to me, what he's done to me, don't you ask his advice––"
"I'm really sorry Leia but that just wasn't our father!" Luke insisted, red and throwing his arms out wide, and Han was still – he was somewhere else, spinning––
"Why, because he's not Vader or because he wasn't the one literally holding me down with his boot on my back!"
"Both!"
"You know I bet he knows all about it? I bet he knows this sort of thing inside and out – monsters like that don't appear out of nowhere, they only grow and grow – gods, what our birth mother must have been through, that poor woman––"
"Why would you say that! Why would you want that to be true!" Luke cried out, and finally by then Han had his thoughts organized again, enough to move one of his arms from around Leia to in between her and Luke and say, "Hey! Both of you! That's enough!"
He turned back to Leia, then, dropping his voice low. "Y'alright?"
Leia was breathing heavily, and trembling still, badly, but she gave him a cold look. "I'm fine, Han, you don't need to infantilize me." She straightened up and lifted her chin, albeit still quivering as she turned to Luke. "I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I didn't mean to yell."
"Yeah," Luke replied, still sounding quite exasperated, "Me neither, but––"
"You two are just gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, alright?" Han said firmly, staring them both down. "Just cool down and quit it and move on."
"That's the thing, you can't agree to disagree with being a Jedi––" Luke began.
"Well, make an exception, kid."
"I don't want to be an exception, Han," Leia said forcefully, putting her hands under her armpits to still them. "You cannot attempt to smooth out every rough terrain in the world that ends up in front of me!"
"I can until you're healed up," Han said in a low, flat voice, and Leia immediately brought her hands to her face, shaking her head.
"I can't be healed up," she insisted from between her fingers. "I'm never going to be––"
"That's not true, princess!"
"I'm going to meditate," Luke interrupted, shaking his head and heading outside. "I'll be in for dinner."
"Must be nice! Oh, don't you know how much I'd give to be able to walk away from everything? To be able to step outside my body and leave it behind?"
"That's what I'm trying to teach you! But you can't do that if you can't find a way release your fear!" He was mostly out the door, by that point, but she still snapped after him––
"Tell it to release me, then!"
Leia was panicking, it was all over her features, she was pacing in a tight circle, trying to get control – he was also trying to get control. "I don't know why he would say that to me! I don't know what would possess him – that monster tortured you, his best friend, he took everything from me, why––!"
"Just relax, Leia," he said roughly. "Just – stop talking for a second, alright?" He couldn't continue, rubbing his neck harshly, grimacing.
"What – are you okay?" Leia demanded breathlessly, those flashing eyes now trained on him, wide and wild, almost like the way her pupils had got, when she was – dissociating, whatever it was called, maybe he should've noted that, but he was too busy – losing it – fuck – his brain felt like it was on fire––
"Fett," he spit out. "You said – tell Vader, Vader's ghost, whatever – 'bout what his bounty hunter did to you – that goddamn sonofabitch––!" His fist was coming down, hard, against a wall – he should've known better, she flinched bad, and her eyes were erratic and enormous but––!
But––! Fucking touching her – inside her – breaking her open – fuck!
She looked confused. "I didn't – I don't know, Han, I don't remember, I've told you this––" she choked out.
"You said – I'll kill him, I'll––" All of this anger, he didn't know how he was so angry, he was – staggering, slumping down – voice in his head saying don't do this, don't do this to her––
It was just like suddenly he could see it – like – for fuck's sake – he hadn't read it, he'd only had vague images – it was like suddenly burning behind his eyes––
"I don't remember," she was insisting again, really taken aback and confused and reeling, rubbing her eyes. "I blacked out, I – I don't – I don't know why I said that, I can't remember––"
"Fuckin' – fuck!" And then he was collapsing into a seat, his head in his hands and it was suddenly really seared into his mind, fuck, and––
"Han are you – are you alright?"
"I'm fine, princess,"he snapped immediately, jerking away, and then there she was, arms around him, saying she was sorry, I'm sorry, I really don't remember, I'm sorry – that almost made him feel worse – now that he could see it, in his head, he felt so much worse – like suddenly this whole thing had broken open inside of him – "Sweetheart, gimme some space alright, gimme – need some time alone," he muttered, shrugging her off of him.
"What?" she said, pulling off obediently and swatting her hair away from her face.
"Need some space – just… need some space."
"I know you're hurting right now but that's really hurtful," she said in a strained voice, standing up formally. Psychologist-speak, unfamiliar vocabulary, she was really struggling with this scripted text... "It – makes me feel – as though my – presence – hurts you, causes me pain, which… I can understand, but that doesn't make it – any – less – well…"
"Sorry, sorry, yeah, didn't mean – sorry sweetheart I just––"
She swallowed seriously a lump in her throat, shoving her hands back under her armpits. "It – hurts me – to think that – when you look at me, what you see is – not – who I am – but – the collective sum of – experiences that – I can't – control and––"
"I know, sweetheart, you know I'm better 'an that – s'not it, just – just feeling a little – like m'jumpin' out of my skin, I don't wanna hurt you, you know that––"
"Of c-course I understand, I just w-wanted to art-ticulate––"
"Hey now," he said, trying to hide his tiredness, slight frustration – "Hey now, don't get upset, s'okay," he said, standing up to try to embrace her.
"No-no… let me give you space," she insisted, giving him a shaky, unhappy half-smile. "You've been so flexible and understanding, you need your space––"
"Fuck Leia, don't get upset – I'm sorry I'm just – shaken up, I can't––"
"Stop s-seeing, I know – I'm sorry, I know I've been relying on you quite a bit…"
Can't stop seeing it and can't handle seeing you like this, he thought, squeezing her hand awkwardly. "I don't care, I love ya, m'not going anywhere," he promised, that old echo.
Her face was serious and drawn and almost apologetic. "I want you to know that I r-respect your n-need for space but – but if you want space from this – from all this – dear, I worry there isn't enough in the galaxy."
"I don't want to get away from you," Han said, bending to meet her eyes. "Get that out of your head."
"I d-don't think it can be outrun. This can be outrun."
"I'm not trying to outrun you."
"I think with time it can be managed? I think with t-time and, and w-work it can be managed – but I don't think it can be gotten away from…"
"Princess. Hey. I don't wanna get away from you. Listen, can I––?" He sought her nod before setting his hands firmly on her waist and touching his forehead to hers. "I don't want to get away from you, Leia."
"It's not that I think you want to get away from me, it's just––"
"M'really sorry baby, I fucked up––"
"You didn't fuck up – I've been so volatile," she was murmuring, still so close.
"Didn't mean to get so upset––"
"You're allowed to be upset––"
"Just want you to be alright––"
"I know."
"I wanna go where you go."
"I know. I want to go where you go as well," she confessed.
He was saying it before really realizing he was saying it, which wasn't to say he regretted it, just that it was almost a surprise, hearing it spill out of his mouth: "Marry me, yeah?"
"What?"
"I want you to marry me, sweetheart, huh, whatdaya say?"
"You're – you're saying this because you feel guilty, because you feel responsible for me…"
"M'not – 'cause I love you – just tell me, will you? Say you will? Here, soon – I wanna – go where you go, I––"
"Yes."
#
Thanks for your support. There will be more – not sure where this is taking me, but what I know is there's more to say here.