Hey Everyone! I made some edits to chapter 6, if you'd like to take a look before continuing to this chapter. Nothing big, and nothing that changes the plot- just some extra literary details- so there's no need to worry if you miss it. Disclaimer: As you all probably already know, I do not own anything or any rights regarding Harvest Moon or Natsume Inc.

...

Chapter 7: Forgiveness

Winter 14, Year 2

Winter Thanksgiving

The chill of the season had settled rather quickly across the Valley. Still, Jill found that the solemn and dread of the winter, which naturally accompanied cold weather for all the farmers, had set deep inside her, long before the season change. While the colorful, withering leaves still clung desperately to their branches, she felt her hope begin to rhythmically deteriorate and fall away with all the warm colors, until a frost slowly engulfed the land, hardening everything- even Jill's last bit of optimism.

Only in recent weeks, she realized as she witnessed the twinkling, bright snowflakes flutter down from inside her cozy home on that Friday morning, did some her dismay begin to warm and melt away like the marshmallows floating over the small ripples in her hot chocolate. She could only attribute the warmth to the fact that once winter had laid a thick blanket of white across her land, she began to feel those traditional, magical effects of the approaching holiday season; that, and the large kit cardigan she wore as a gift from Nina was nearly warm enough to heat any heart, no matter how many separate pieces it resembled. For those reasons, and other kind doings of her friends, Jill was finally feeling willing and able, all over again, to begin pulling out of the shell that was her late father's home.

For, since the end of Autumn, Jill had withdrawn. It wasn't so much of a conscious act, as it was a sharp and innate instinct which she had developed and insisted since childhood. Her voluntary hermitic behavior resonated memories of her feigning illness during elementary school to avoid the fear and humiliation sure to come at not making friends the first day, and again when she first moved to the valley, grieving over the lost of her father, and afraid of not being excepted into his place. However, now, the concept had reversed itself. She wasn't afraid of making new friends; instead, she was deeply afraid and humiliated at the thought of losing a previously established one. Days after Skye's deception and subsequent disappearance, Jill remained within the realms of her farm -her safety blanket- and simply waited. It wasn't only for the fact that she wasn't completely prepared to face Marlin again, but she felt a sort of guilt towards all the valley members. Mainly because she still held a certain 'hope' deep down.

At first, it was a hope that none of that Autumn's night had actually taken place at all, but upon reestablishing her reality, she knew that not only was that particular prospect long ago dashed, but that it wasn't truly what she wished. The true hope was that it wasn't the end for her and him. Jill couldn't help but wish that those last, terrible and emotion driven words were not truly the last ones she would speak to the silver-haired thief. He had been in such a low state that night, and, although she wasn't exactly sure what had sparked the thought for his twisted plan, she knew that it wasn't really what Skye had wanted. As much as Skye was a criminal, he wasn't malicious, not towards her in the least. He couldn't have wanted things to end the way they did... or, at least, she didn't. And as much as she felt that way, truly to the center of her being, that deep feeling of pity for him and herself only made her more guilty. It confirmed her place at his side- it made her his accomplice. So, instead of facing the villagers with her heavy heart set on hoping for Skye's return, she waited. She farmed the rest of her Fall crops away as they slowly withered with the early frost, and she waited for a sign from him- though none came. And, though she thought holding out would make it all better, somehow, the waiting only made her guilt and humiliation worse. Her hope repeatedly sparked and dwindled over the month, causing her to feel over and over as though giving up was the best option.

In fact, one late morning, almost two weeks after the incident, an unexpected visitor had come knocking on her door, and it sent another heavy sensation of hope skyrocketing through her. Yet, once she revealed the guest on her front step, that same rocket came crashing back down and became stuck, bitterly, in her throat.

...

"Oh. Hi," she swallowed before greeting the dark haired man that waited, leaned against the support beam of her small porch. The man glanced up at her in the open doorway and then pushed himself of his post almost clumsily, as he cleared his throat. He appeared as though he had been the one caught off guard by her appearance, regardless that he had sought her out on his own accord.

"Hey..." He paused uncertainly before an even coolness layered his tone. "How've you been?" That was Marlin's talent: somehow making such a simple, kind greeting sound so harshly impersonal and difficult to give an honest response. But, Jill was all too familiar with Marlin's lack of proficiency with small talk, and so it didn't much faze her in the least. Jill shrugged nonchalantly.

I've been anxious, frustrated, unsettled, hopeless... downright sad, really…

"I've... been." She couldn't decide a word to follow, so she left the sentence open to his own interpretation. She tried to think of a quick way to turn the conversation, and upon doing so, someone else came sharply to mind, and she couldn't help but feel another sting of guilt as her gaze fell down.

"But, um. How's Celia… her leg?" She wasn't sure if it was right of her to ask; after all, the girl's injury was her fault, but it had been weighing on her mind frequently over the extended amount of reclusive days. She looked up to gauge Marlin's expression, to see if her questioning went too far passed her boundaries, but he didn't act as though it matter much at all one way or the other.

"She's well. As cheery as always. She'd gotten feeling back in her leg half an hour after you left." Marlin paused and suddenly seemed to find the potted plant to the left of her door frame more in need of his visual interest. "She's been asking about you."

"Oh… Really…?" Jill got snagged in her mind, reliving the scene of Celia crumpled, in tears, on the dusty gravel ground, unable to move her leg. She remember trying to give her encouraging words that held no real value of comfort, because she was much too focused on the wellbeing of a thief to truly help her friend. As soon as the vision dissipated, Jill realized how dumbly she had responded to Marlin and back peddled. "I mean, uh... asking about what?" Marlin shrugged; it seemed that while she had recessed, he had become loosely interested with eye contact again.

"She just hasn't seen you since... and you didn't come back to the house to talk afterwards. I guess she was worried." Jill bit her cheek and sat on that sentiment for a moment. She knew she had probably acted very out of character to Vesta and Celia, but she had hoped it had gone mostly unnoticed; apparently, it had not. Since Jill didn't speak a word, Marlin hesitantly continued.

"I told her that you were tired, so you went home. But it's been awhile now, so she still wanted to come out and make sure the whole thing hadn't spooked you too much, I guess."

So, that was it then- the reason for the visit. Celia had asked him to come. It made a lot more sense to her now, since she had hardly ever seen Marlin unannounced on her doorstep, save for some very special occasion. Not like Rock, who had noticed her absence days ago, and forced his entry to 'hang out'. Not like Griffin, who called to ask how things were going before causally and tactfully hinting that Muffy was already on her way, along with some treats, for a surprise visit. Not like Flora who appeared one day on the way to run errands, and ended up staying a long while to silently comfort Jill as she finally broke apart and wept stinging, bitter tears, but still couldn't bring herself to tell her best friend why her chest hurt so much lately. Marlin wasn't like them; he wasn't like anyone else, because he knew her true nature unlike anyone else. She expected that he would give her space- pure, uninterrupted space. And, after everything she'd done, she felt he wasn't wrong for it.

She would have kept on believing he was only there for Celia, until he gained some courage through Jill's silence, and added some truth to his excuses.

"And I... kinda wanted to make sure of it for myself, too. So I volunteered." Jill looked up in shock in that moment to catch him in the act of rubbing through the curls on the back of his neck. "I'm glad to see you're still alive," he joked halfheartedly.

It was so unexpected. She hadn't thought that the first emotion Marlin would approached her with would be concern- anger or pity, maybe- but not pure concern. Nor did she ever assume, after all of the embarrassing, messy, emotional energy at the end of that night, that he would be the first to initiate a conversation with her at all... but here he was.

It was so nice of a feeling- a relief, actually.

And she hated it.

It was a truly kind testament, but somehow it was the last thing she wanted from him. Of course, his kindness was the best possible scenario, but it shouldn't have worked out so perfectly- she didn't deserve the best possible scenario. She deserved to be told "I told you so" or scolded- or both. Skye still hadn't returned, and so, Marlin had still been right, while she had been so very wrong.

"...Thank you," she replied meekly, with her best attempt at sincerity: which must have been pretty well enacted, since a very subtle smile shortly found Marlin's lips. It disappeared just as quickly before he spoke again.

"No problem."

"…"

"… …"

"Well, Uh. Would you like to come in?" Jill offered, for both lack of what to say next, and the desire to show him the same amount of kindness he was killing her with.

"No- I better go. Thanks though. See ya around," he answered, and then, rather strangely, turned around and simply walked away before she could protest. Jill was blown away. Even for Marlin, it was possibly one of the oddest endings to a conversation she had ever had. So, to save them both some face, she called out to him.

"Hey!"

He responded by turning halfway around, just enough to show he was giving her his attention.

"Uh. Tell Celia that I'm fine... and that I'll stop by later today- on my way to the excavation site..." She hadn't really planned on going to the mines that day, but it made for a good excuse to make an actual appearance in the Valley for a near two weeks.

She wasn't sure if she had seen it clearly, but it seemed like Marlin had grinned, before he continued on his way home.

…

Jill pulled herself back into her present: into her warm knit cardigan and frosted window pane, as she continued to think about that encounter and that smile of his. In doing so, she was struck with the remembrance and significance of the date. Not only was it a Friday night, but it was also Winter Thanksgiving. Contemplating all the recent and past events, Jill knew she owed more 'thanks' to Marlin than she could ever really give in a gift- but she could try. Since her spirits has been lifted with all the holiday-like feelings of the season, and from ultimately learning to abandon her feelings of hope for Skye's return, she felt it was probably about time that she wrapped up her pity-party.

Skye wasn't likely coming back anytime soon.

She could feel bad for her words forever- but it would help nothing. She could she remain the way she had been, attempting to avoid any further humiliation, but she would have to face her fears eventually. And, for some reason, the present day seemed better than any.

...

…

Marlin was stuck on the past too.

Truthfully, when he had checked in on Jill that day in the beginnings of winter, he had been blind-sighted, and never fully recovered from the blow.

He hadn't seen the ranch owner for much over a week before he conceded to Celia's constant questions and decided to pay her a visit himself. Throughout both weeks, he had gone through various waves of thoughts and emotions about the robbery that had occurred. He had been heatedly angered, mostly at Skye, but also at Jill, for the thief getting away unscathed, and especially after they had realized what had been stolen. Vesta's green book was missing, not misplaced, but stolen- as made evident by the generic Phantom Thief note left in its place. It was her handmade, novel long, farming guideline; it held her notes, field rotation schedule, the best dates to begin seasonal crop change, but most importantly, it held her buyers' contact information and request for the past years and year to come. It had taken so much time to collect the information, and probably just as much to write and organize it as well as Vesta had. The thief may not have ravaged her current crops, but it was the future of her farm that would suffer.

Once his pure anger and irritation had subsided into embers of mild frustration, he couldn't help but fuel his troubled thoughts with more pity and guilt. He felt it for Vesta and Celia; for holding onto a secret that ended up harming both of them; but he couldn't help feeling sorry for Jill either. She was holding herself up again: withdrawing the way she did when she didn't want others to see her unraveling. And as much as he could be rueful or regretful towards himself, the criminal or the situation, he quickly found that he couldn't hold the same feelings towards her.

He thought he could. He believed, as he trudged up onto her porch, hands buried firmly into his pockets, that seeing her would bring back the storm of negative emotions he felt when he discovered what the thief had taken from his family. But once Jill had opened the door, and he caught sight of her face, it was like an unanticipated tidal wave had washed over him. It was true that the debris of conflicting emotions had hit him once again, but they were eroded, washed away by the most prominent feeling- one that slapped him across the face and threatened to pull him into the depths of unwavering, complete forgiveness. Along with some hints of left over frustration and pity, was his relentless, yearning happiness to see her once again and know, by the sight of his own eyes, that she was doing okay. It, frankly, caught him off guard, and in that short instance, even before taking notice of the graying circles under her dark violet eyes, and seeing the splotched, reddening embarrassment spreading over her cheeks, he had completely forgotten all that he had thought to say- about that night, about Vesta's book, about their strained relationship- and he forgave her. With an unexpectedly dim amount of words left in his mind for her, he did the only thing left to do. He turned away abruptly before he could completely ruin any rapport that had seemed to be salvaged by his visit. He left while he was still regaining the breath that had been taken from him and replaced by the damp coolness of his concern for her. Then he trudged back home as he pondered over how to expel the contentment in his system that had completely doused the fire in his gut.

...

Weeks had passed since then, and during them, Jill had begun to show herself around the village more regularly, while Marlin had nearly completely dropped any bitterness he had over it all- the fire never returning. The thief had really left the valley, as far as he could tell, and things could go back to normal- be forgotten and forgiven. Not that he had much of a choice, he was beginning to realize, when it came to forgiving Jill.

Just like a tidal wave, he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Despite all that had happened between them, Marlin had been feeling pretty chipper as winter set it. Normally, the weather bothered him, but it wasn't as bad as the previous year. Also in previous winters, Celia and Vesta would have continued to bother him about his condition, but they seemed to hold off on most of their scolding and ambiguous comments- something he knew Jill had some part in, and it only made him less resentful towards her, if not sincerely grateful. He still wasn't seeing her as much as he liked- to make sure she was holding well, he told himself- but when they did spend some time together at the shop or at the bar on Monday nights, it was pleasant. She was wholeheartedly smiling again, laughing and sticking around the village, and he was inconspicuously doing his best to keep it that way. It was funny to him how they changed roles so readily and consistently for one another. It seemed that when Marlin hit the depths, it was Jill to pull him out with her optimism. And now that Jill was the one struggling to keep face, he discovered that he could find it in himself to smile more often, even if just for her sake.

…

Marlin noticed a trend. Although he avoided questioning her about it, his and Jill's Friday night drinking ritual had come to a hiatus. Jill slowly slipped away from the bar scene since the robbery, and the unspoken Friday night pact was never picked back up when Jill recollected the pieces of her routine. This left Marlin attending the bar "alone again" at the start of every weekend, as Muffy would so graciously point out to him like clockwork as soon as he sat down at his stool. The week before held no difference.

...

"It's not like I'm not allowed come to a bar alone," he finally countered one night out of fed up agitation with the blonde bartender's redundancy.

"That's true," she sighed, leaning on the counter with a solemn sounding pout. "But you never seem to have as much fun here when you are." Her observation of him was rather blunt, and Marlin couldn't respond right away, besides some heat reddening his ears that silently gave away his position on her opinion.

"I'm fine..." He found his gall to speak returned to him after a sip of his drink. "It's you who's concerning. You haven't stopped sighing since I walked it." Muffy sighed again, more heavily, if not just to prove his point.

"I knooow... I miss her. She was just beginning to come around here more often. I thought it was because of you, which is why I put up with you..." She teased, but good naturedly.

Marlin gave her an unconvinced look, but she continued seamlessly.

"...but now she doesn't even come regularly anymore," she paused and turned over that thought in her mind before pondering her new one aloud. "Did you two get into a fight maybe?" Marlin looked at her with a raised eyebrow, skillfully diminishing the rationality of the idea with his gesture, despite how close Muffy was to the truth.

"Without even attempting to poke all the other holes in your theory- what makes you think we would even have a chance to have an argument?" He questioned rhetorically. "I don't see her much either," he admitted with another sip of his glass. As of late, that one wasn't a lie.

"I suppose you're right..." Muffy sighed again, not all too convinced, but not holding the spirit to pry any longer. It just wasn't fun to try to gossip or dig up dirt on Marlin if Jill wasn't involved; he reacted too coolly alone. She would never get much out of him. But more than that, she just missed her friend's presence.

...

Marlin, although he wouldn't admit it aloud to anyone, was feeling a similar lack of enthusiasm towards attending the establishment without Jill's company. Because of it, he considered retreating into old habits and routines; to only get away from the house once a night again, since it was slowly becoming clear to him that Jill may never return to their twice a week meetings.

That was largely the reason he was so surprised to receive a call from Jill that very Friday morning, asking him precisely about his company.

"Hey." He recognized the voice, and the surprising return of the ease in it, immediately after he answered with his 'hello'.

"Hey," he answered back shortly.

"Are you going to the bar tonight?" Jill asked, as though it was the most causal question she had ever had for him.

"Yeah. Probably," he shrugged, regardless of the fact the couldn't see him.

"Okay... I'll see you there then?" Some of her meekness rang through the receiver in the inquiry.

"Sure. See you there," he couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he said it and remained after they said their goodbyes.

"What was that about?" Vesta questioned curiously in his direction as she watched him hang up the corded phone from her seating at the breakfast table. Marlin rarely received calls, so she had been passively listening, anticipating that he would call her to speak to the customer on the line, but it had obviously been for him. It was too peculiar not to ask, but Marlin shrugged her off.

"Nothing really. Just someone seeing if I was going out tonight," he answered as he walked past her chair to retrieve his nearly empty plate from the table.

"Oh. So you are then?" She asked, not particularly trying to mask her own grin. She had a feeling who had been on the other end of the line. Celia watched him from her own place at the table as he moved across the kitchen to the sink. Both caught the smile that laced Marlin's face as he answered, acting as though he was only preoccupied with putting away his dishes.

"Yeah. I am."

…

"Wow, Jill, this is really good!" Flora exclaimed after tasting a bite of the chocolate cake Jill had brought for her. "I was only going to give Carter chocolates..." She mentioned, rethinking the significance of her own gift.

"I think that he'll appreciate it regardless of what it is- since it's from you," Jill laughed a little at Flora's loss of confidence, despite how obviously swoon the Professor was for her. It's only a matter of time, was the recurring thought and statement Jill held for her best friend's potential relationship. It was obvious to Jill of course, but Flora was still having trouble seeing her own fortune.

"Oh, sure," Flora nudged Jill with her shoulder and rolled her eyes lightly to the side. "But frankly, I'm more jealous of whoever this cake is for!" She chuckled then, and Jill joined in before giving a nonchalant shrug.

"It's for everyone. I have a lot of 'thanks' to give." It was a partial lie, but also held some truth.

"I don't know if I buy that, but I won't complain. Just bring me the leftovers."

Jill laughed. "Will do. Geez, you and chocolate. Karen wouldn't even have touched it."

"Speaking of Karen," Flora mumbled through another bite of cake before swallowing. "I went to mineral town a few days ago and stopped by the store to see her. She asked when we would get together again; she's been wanting to see you."

"I'll have to give her a call," Jill assured her friend as she began to pack up the rest of her things into her satchel. Flora got up from her seat on the floor of the tent to walk her friend out.

"I think she mentioned New Year's Eve- if you don't already have plans," Flora asked with a playful hint of suspicion that Jill already had a date.

"Yeah right," Jill chuckled as she ducked through the exit of the tent," Like I have plans." Flora shrugged, leaving open the possibility.

"Okay, I'll let her know next time I go to town," she mention as Jill waved.

"Sounds good," Jill smiled before turning around. "See you around."

…

Marlin didn't hold high expectations while walking into the bar that evening. He reached the door at his usual time, assuming that Jill wouldn't show until later. It was wholly the reason his curiosity was peaked by the sight of the silky, brown ponytail, curling slightly on the ends, draped over the back of a light blue blouse at the bar.

He knocked off the snow from his shoes before walking in, which began a turn of attention towards him. Griffin eyed him with a short nod of acknowledgement and a gruff smile; Jill paused from her conversation with Muffy to greet him.

"Hey," he said to all present at once, but his gaze fixed on Jill as he removed his coat to hang on the bronze rack and moved to take the stool next to her.

"Evening," Griffin responded, as Muffy relinquished a 'hello', glancing fluidly between the seated couple with a smile.

"Hey," Jill mirrored, grinning towards him as Griffin set a drink down on the counter. "Long time no see?" she laughed with a brief hint of nervousness ringing in her tone at her own jab towards herself. She had skipped both Monday and last Friday's outing- not that they had made plans, but it was just assumingly expected that she showed face.

Marlin offered a small, assuring smile. He never pointed out her withdrawn behavior, but since she was the one to bring up the subject, he figured he'd make small talk out of it.

"Yeah, sort of," he shrugged. "What have you been doing the past week?" He asked causally, not trying to make her feel any obligation towards an apology like she often did. Jill shrugged right back.

"Just taking care of animals... Some barn maintenance… And a lot of mining," her nose crinkled then at the mention. She loved to visit Flora in the mines, but the hobby itself wasn't particularly her favorite pastime. It left her with blisters, and, even though she was shielded from the falling snow, the caves were rather cold. But, she needed the extra money from ores while her crop growth came to a halt, so it was a necessary part of her day. At the least, it was a reminder of what had brought her to find such a good friend in the female excavator, but there wasn't much else good she had it say about the work. Marlin had given a small chuckle at the face his companion made. She didn't often complain to him, but he had long ago caught on that excavating was not her most preferred chore.

"How about you?" she asked, chuckling with him.

"Not much," he responded. "A lot of hauling grain... booking and inputs. So we've basically just been making a lot of trips into town." Marlin didn't sound all too enthused either, and Jill nodded in agreement. They had a lot in common in terms of work, so Jill could understand how the winter brought a sluggish and lazy feel to their profession- which was a drastic change from how busy they became in most all other months. Marlin continued to briefly describe how he, Vesta and Celia spent their time talking to next year's buyers, ordering materials, and delivering grain- the latter two naturally doing more of the talking, while the former did more of the heavy lifting. When they were slow, they would go out to maintain the fields. Marlin still hadn't found the heart to mention Vesta's book to Jill, or give away the fact that a lot of their extra work that winter was actually due to its theft.

"Sounds tough," Muffy gracefully inserted herself into the conversation. "All of the hauling in this snow..." she clarified.

"The snow isn't as bad at it was last year, at least," Griffin commented, his optimism never failed.

"You're right about that," Marlin chuckled, sipping his drink and accepting Griffin's hopeful outlook openly for once.

They continued that way- slipping easily into their conversation and forgetting the time and the large world outside their humble, lowly light bar, where the instrumental country music played them into the night. Every evening which ended as this one did, Marlin couldn't remember being more content or more at ease in the presence of others. More joined in as the night flowed on: Rock, Gustafa, Nami strolled into the bar individually and pulled up their stools, feeling just a free to immerse themselves within the conversations being had. Gustafa spoke about some gigs he scored in nearby towns, some which Nami had attended in order to travel around the area and see the sights, she surprisingly relayed to them. Rock chortled out jokes, and often moved from stool to stool as he invaded the others space, without much of a care. Since it was Rock, no one really minded (besides Marlin, silently, the few times Rock threw his arms around Jill as they shared a laugh). Griffin listened, inputting bits of advice and wisdom here and there, and Muffy giggled at the others' stories, memorizing the details of the social interactions for her to recall fondly later.

Before anyone knew it, closing time was approaching, and the irregulars faded back to their own homes. Marlin and Jill decided to follow suit; It was late in the night, and they didn't want to keep their friends up too long. They waved their goodbyes to the bar keeps as the stepped outside into the still snow. Jill immediately let out a shutter and huff of visible, hot air as she became swallowed by the chill, tying to preserve the warmth of her hands as Marlin shut the door firmly behind them. Marlin looked up at the sharp, cloudless night sky; the stars swarmed blissfully and drunkenly for a moment before he heard a voice next to him and gazed back down at Jill.

"Would it be okay if you walked me home?" Her eyes glistened up to him, as a healthy amount of alcohol-fueled blush painted her cheeks beautifully.

Marlin nodded shortly, the buzz constricting his vocabulary towards her.

They headed on silently for a while. Jill clasped her hands together as she blew heat into them.

"It's getting so cold," she muttered, mostly to herself, as they continued forward. Marlin watched her. She looked so different, bundled under a thick layer of coat and scarf; she look more vulnerable and small then, like she was still that girl from the city who had first appeared in the valley, the intimidation of her strength left disappeared from his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, watching the sky again as his breath rose into the air over them.

…

They arrived shortly at Jill's doorstep, and Marlin readied to say his goodbye, but instead, Jill pushed open the door and stepped inside without a word. She kicked off her shoes in the entrance, clumps of snow crumbling onto the floor, as she turned to face him. "Would you mind coming in for a moment?"

Marlin couldn't help the mild surprise that encompassed his features, but he swallowed it in order to take a step forward into the house with his answer.

"Okay."

He knocked the snow off his black shoes before he reached the wooden flooring of her house, but he didn't removed them, as he didn't want to appear as though he expected his visit to be long. He followed Jill as she moved to the kitchen but stopped behind her kitchen bar as he watched her reach into the cupboard for two wine glasses and forks. She set them down before moving to open the door to the refrigerator.

"What are you doing..?" Marlin questioned, unable to think of a more subtle way to ask whether there was a special occasion.

Jill appeared from behind the door with a small, personal cake and a thin bottle of wine. She shut the door with her side and then moved to set the items down in front of him.

"It's Winter Thanksgiving. I'm saying 'thank you,'" she blushed lightly as she poured the wine half full into the glass.

"For what?" Marlin chuckled lightly and he took a seat at the tall chair on his side of the kitchen bar. He couldn't recall any recent act that deserved a 'thanks' from her, save for the occasional escorts home. Jill was placing a fork in front of him then, but she still hadn't met his eyes until a moment after his question. Marlin felt his breath hitch in his chest as her freshly determine gaze fell onto him, before her smile lightened the serious features once present.

"For everything. You've been looking out for me ever since I came here. And then..." She paused for a moment to look at the wine, but he continued to watch her intently. "...with everything that happened with Skye. I never really took the chance to describe how sorry truly I am. I shouldn't have dragged you into all of that, but you helped me anyway. Even when it back-fired... you've still been so nice to me..." Water appeared to well in her eyes as she spoke but she held it from falling. There it was: not only that feeling of deep humiliation, but the guilt and regret that had kept her confined to her land over the past few months. She had been so childish with how she handled the whole ordeal- her secret keeping, asking Marlin to lie for her, thinking that Skye had really cared more about her than he did himself... She wasn't just some young and dumb, naïve, 'city girl' anymore, but she sure still acted like it. And, somehow, Marlin had put up with it all. He even gave her his support when she asked, despite his own disagreement with her choices. He was still her friend, and he remained that way, no matter what had happened. It was more than she could have asked from anyone, and with him, she didn't even have to.

Marlin watched as she beat herself up to a point where she couldn't even complete her own thoughts aloud. He silently wished that he had something to say to make her feel better, but he knew he wasn't one who could find the right words. He swallowed hard before he picked up his fork, finding his voice somewhere within the action.

"Don't worry about it, Jill." He felt that it came out so dumbly and nonchalant, but he didn't have any better phrasing. He didn't want to see her hiding away anymore, afraid that he wouldn't accept her apology. He wished the whole thing could be forgotten now and that she would return to her old ways. He knew it was impossible; he knew that thief had, essentially, broken her heart, and that it would take her some time to heal from his betrayal. But, where he himself was concerned, all he wanted was for Jill's easiness to return. He wanted her to smile at him more, not look to him with nervous guilt. He stole a look up from his plate and saw the dumbfound in Jill's expression clear. She did appear able to respond, so he found something to back up his comment, even though, it too, came out gruff.

"I just... I don't want to see you worrying about it anymore. What he did wasn't your fault anyway. Don't beat yourself up, alright?"

Jill nodded. Then she wiped her eye and presented a small up-turn of her lips.

"Okay," she agreed in a hoarse voice. "Thanks, Marlin."

Marlin couldn't help but stare at her in that moment. That was all he had wanted: that sweet and sincere look which accompanied her smile. Truthfully, he hadforgiven her long ago, even before he knew it himself. He realized he would never stay mad at her, especially when she gave him that look of pure emotion and made him sure that, in her heart, she would never want to make him angry. From that look alone, any indignation he held, he felt melt away, just like the hardened chocolate on the cake before him had begun to.

"Well, try it," she chuckled, believing he was waiting for a sign from her to begin. Marlin complied, and as he dug his fork into the dark, soft dish, and listened as she explained further.

"I know you don't like sweets, unless it's fruit, but it's the tradition. So, I made it to go with this new dessert wine I found." Jill had picked up her own fork and began digging into the same plate. Marlin took his first bite, and was pretty surprised. It wasn't a normal chocolate cake: it was dark truffle chocolate, like something he would have at a fine wine tasting. "You have to try the wine now," Jill's instruction was muffled slightly by the food in the mouth and her poor attempted to cover it with her hand. Marlin did as he was instructed and took a sip of his glass. It was a raspberry merlot; a perfect pairing for the dark chocolate truffle.

"You're right. I don't usually like cake... but this is really good." Marlin couldn't help but grin to her; he was rather impressed. Jill laughed.

"I hope you're not just saying that, because it took me like ten tries before I got it right. Not that I had much else to do but bake once it started snowing," she shrugged. Truly, Marlin hadn't noticed, but more often than not, the main thing that caused Jill to leave the house for visits since winter began was to deliver baked goods to people in town. In her own honesty, she loved baking and trying new sweets, but was afraid to keep so any leftovers around while also remaining so stagnant; It was the perfect recipe for weight gain. However, there were no real means for Marlin to take notice when she avoided bringing him just about anything baked with oils and sugar.

"No. I mean, I actually really like it," he laughed back, sounding just as surprised himself as he took another bite.

…

At the end of their glasses, with only a few bites of cake left to spare, Marlin looked at his watch, and decided it was far past time for him to leave. He figured that near three in the morning was not a very reputable time for a man to be leaving a woman's house, especially in a town as small as theirs.

Jill walked Marlin to her door with a small stretch and a yawn, and Marlin opened it, letting himself out. Before he shut the door however, something enter his mind suddenly. He had been turning the idea over and over in his head for weeks, but he couldn't bring himself to ask anytime he saw Jill, especially with how unfamiliar she had been acting with him, up until this particular night. He couldn't fathom what came over him suddenly, maybe the alcohol, or the serious conversations they held for the past few hours, but he quickly turned back to her and planted a hand on her door frame before she could give him a final goodbye.

"Hey...If you don't have any plans already... the Star Festival is in a few weeks. Vesta is going to have a small party at the house. …do you want to go? I'm sure they'll be glad to have you."

Jill hadn't expected his sudden proposal, but she quickly composed herself and came to a reasonably quick reply.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I don't have any plans... Sounds fun," she smiled again towards him, and he almost lost his hand placement as his fingers twitched against the wooden frame. He had almost reached out to hold her then, but he held himself still and instead removed his hand to back away from her entranceway.

"Alright. I'll let them know you're coming. See you around," he replied hurriedly. Before he could take another step away, he was nearly pushed over, mostly due to being startled by Jill's abrupt embrace. Her hugs were slowly becoming a guilty pleasure to accompany their goodbyes, but, as taboo as it was in their current location, it was one he could find no qualms for.

He placed his hands on her upper back as she squeezed his torso tightly, and he breathed out the aftermath of his jolt as a sigh into her hair. She mumbled a quick "bye" into his chest before she, just as abruptly, pulled herself into her home and shut the door. Marlin wasn't sure what to make of her actions, but he didn't have much of the mind to continue to analyze them. Instead, he attempted to use his best efforts of focus towards trudging through the snow safely back to his own home.

…

The world was spinning lightly, but pleasantly, from the alcohol as Jill slid onto her couch to lie down. She flipped to her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and burying her head in her hands. Her dog and cat jumped up to join their master on the furniture and wrapped up around her, anchoring her to the reality of the world.

She knew she was drunk, but that knowledge still didn't mean that her judgment was anything less than clouded. She didn't know what it was that she was feeling for Marlin lately, but she knew that it wasn't just friendship anymore. Instead of only hugging him at the doorstep, she had a flash of thought that she would just reach up, place her hands on either side of his face, and kiss him… and not stop there, but pull him back into the house with her, and shut the door behind them.

She had slowly developed a twinge of lust for him in the very beginning, (he was handsome, after all) but it was nothing like it was recently. She could no longer decipher whether it was in fact, just lust for him, or if all the love she held for him, as a friend, as a neighbor, as a person, had grown together equally, and finally, the longing sexual desire was catching up. Or maybe... she was just drunk. She rubbed her head. Definitely too drunk to begin trying to solve the mysteries of human emotion. So she lied there, beginning to feel a little sick and sleepy from the wine, and allowed herself to think about Marlin without analyzing the intentions of her own emotional involvement.

Marlin was a gentleman. She was sure he had drank just as much if not more than her, and yet he hadn't tried anything. She had invited him in, and he left by his own decision. He was completely controlled and chivalrous. Unless, of course, he just simply felt no attraction to her, which, in her mind, was also a valid possibility. He did notoriously have feelings for Celia, after all...

Realistically, however, that was no where near the case. Marlin was, as much as he tried, having a very difficult time focusing on traversing the path in front of him as he neared Vesta's farm. Jill's smile was burned into his head. Her touch left his chest and arms aching. As he leaned a hand against the door of his house, he had to stop and take a deep breath to subdue his self-directed frustration. He drew back his dark curls with his other hand as he blew out a heavy sigh. Perhaps he was just too intoxicated, but he didn't think he could continue with the strictly platonic way they were anymore. He had told himself, just months ago, that he wouldn't do anything to hurt his friendship with Jill, but that just wasn't want he wanted. He loved her. Whenever he found her unexpectedly, like back in the bar, he thought he wouldn't breath again. Witnessing her nearly come to tears back in her home, crushed his chest, and he had to reach out to grip his utensil roughly, whitening his knuckles, to keep himself from reaching up to wipe her tears away. And, when she held him at the door, it had not only nearly destroyed his façade and resolve, but he almost believe his whole being wouldn't remain intact when she let go- that he would simply break apart when she tore away.

More than any physical ailment, it was Jill who was killing him.

Marlin took another long breath before resolving to get out from the frigid cold. He cracked open the front door as lightly as he could manage, and wedged himself into the warm, dimly lit room. He may have been slowed, but his mind rushed, distracted by the events of the night racing through his immediate memory. He was too distracted, even, to notice the young brunette who had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, and was then stirred by his stumbling over the hard wooden floor. He creeped towards his bedroom door, but didn't escape her undetected stare as she sat up sleepily, scrutinizing him as he sealed himself inside his room, and then glanced at the time on the analog wall clock.

Marlin threw away his coat and peeled off his shoes, but climbed into his cool bed near fully dressed. He didn't have time to make any other comforting adjustments, nor did he think much of it. He couldn't think much of anything besides his new, drunken realization.

He had recently been so foolishly concerned with only his more abominable emotions towards Jill. He dreaded being angry with her; he was ashamed of feeling resentment towards her. He even feared not being capable of showing her forgiveness, when the whole time, he really should have been more concerned about what he would do once he found himself in love.

…

Hey Guys! Long time no see, haha. Sorry it's been a while, but I'm glad to be back. I hope you liked this chapter, even though it was nothing but fluff after such a long hiatus. Either way, please feel free to review, PM, critic, whatever! I appreciate every comment, no matter the size or content. It's what keeps me moving forward! As stated in the beginning of the chapter, I've made edits to Chapter six; they're not huge, but I think I can live with it for now. Take a look if you have time, and as always,

Thanks for Reading!