TW: Panic Attack.

—

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Ridge. Inga walks along the swiftly running river, her arms ladled with baskets, picking up various this and that in the fading light. Her Mother had instructed her to forage before the season turns to winter. She freezes when she sees Brian Fraser sitting against a tree with lumps of wood in front of him and an axe at his feet. Yet, he is not touching them and instead, he sits crouched over. His shoulders are tense and he is gripping onto something Inga can't see.

Her bonnet flutters lightly in the breeze, her thoughts a tangled mess of curiosity and longing. She tucks her loose hair back to neaten it, taking a moment to admire the way his orange hair shines in the autumn sunlight and strides over.

"Hello!" Inga greets cheerfully.

Brian startles, looking at her. It's then that she sees his hand gripping tightly on what appears to be rope. Inga's heard enough about what happened at Alamance to know that rope is not a good thing.

"Sorry." She apologises uncomfortably, blushing in embarrassment and at his attention on her.

He shakes his head hurriedly and stands, waving his hand dismissively, telling her that it is fine and to not worry. He tilts his head, questioningly, eyes flickering to her baskets.

"Oh! I, uh, was – well my Mother had suggested – that I forage for some food and herbs." Inga wiggles the baskets in front of him. "I could do with some help. You have lived here longer than I."

Brian looks thankful as if wanting to step away from his work and silently accepts the invitation by walking on, glancing back to Inga.

—

They soon find themselves working together in their foraging but Inga, feeling awkward due to the combined factors of talking to her crush and the fact that said crush is completely silent, finds she can't help herself and proceeds to natter away unnecessarily to fill the silence.

She talks of her mother's match-making efforts – Lizzie and Manfred ("I heard she fancied you and of course why wouldn't she, uh, I did mean it like that!") as well as her hopeless efforts with Ronnie Sinclair and Senga ("It's all about security, we live at the man's property and Mother worries what'll happen to us if he marries someone else.").

At one point Inga looks up to see Brian looking at her with an amused as well as exasperated look, which reminds her far too much of Mistress Fraser.

She laughs awkwardly, tucking her escaped blonde locks behind her ear. "Sorry, I just wanted to make things less awkward and I just made it awkward anyway, didn't I?"

Brian smirks and nods but he doesn't seem too bothered.

"I do not care that you cannot speak." Inga then says abruptly before she thinks it through.

He goes silent and looks down and Inga realises she misspoke. She hurriedly walks forward, trying to forget her blunder. Inga's eyes follow the water's course, unaware of the uneven ground beneath her feet. A sudden slip—a misstep, perhaps, or a careless glance—sends her tumbling into the frigid current.

She gasps as the cold water rushes over her, dragging her further into the river's fast-flowing current. Panic grips her chest as she flails, trying desperately to catch hold of something, anything.

"Ingah!" The sound of her name cuts through the air, and Inga freezes, her heart leaping in her chest. It is a terrible cry, loud and harsh, but with a ghastly strangled quality to it, like a shout forced out around a fist shoved down your throat. It was Brian. The same Brian who hasn't spoken a word to anyone in months.

In a heartbeat, Brian is at the water's edge. He reaches out, his eyes wild with urgency, and his hands grasp her wrists with surprising strength. With a sudden, powerful pull, he drags her to safety, hauling her from the river's grip.

The riverbank is quiet now, save for the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. Inga sat up, her body shivering from the cold. Her wet clothes clinging to her skin, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Her heart pounds—not just from the shock of the fall, but from the realisation that Brian had spoken, for the first time in so long. Brian, still kneeling beside her, had pulled her from the river with strength and determination she hadn't known he possessed. She looks up at him, her eyes wide.

It's then that she sees that one hand is clutching at his chest, his breathing quick and short as if he can't breathe properly; his eyes darting around. His other hand is still gripping hers, but now it is trembling—his jaw clenched, and his breaths come in uneven, ragged gasps. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his face pale, and his eyes are wide and unfocused.

"Brian?" She prompts softly, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch his arm. "What's wrong?"

His eyes dart to hers, but they seem distant, lost. He shakes his head in a frantic motion, his mouth opening as though he wants to speak but can't form the words. A strangled sound slips from his throat, and he sways where he kneels. He seems to be drowning in his own panic, unable to ground himself, unable to find his centre.

She doesn't think. She acts.

Inga shifts closer to him, moving slowly so as not to startle him further. She places a reassuring hand on his back, hoping her touch will be firm yet soothing, trying to anchor him to the present moment.

"Brian, focus on my voice and breathe with me." She urges softly. "Take a deep breath. In... out... slowly. You're safe, Brian. We're okay now."

Brian lets out a sob and nods. "Y–you…" His voice stutters from either lack of use or due to his breathing being erratic, sharp, and quick.

Inga doesn't pull away. She doesn't hesitate. She leans in a little closer, her fingers lightly brushing his collarbone to guide him, to give him something solid to hold onto. The breathing isn't helping so Inga tries another tactic.

She takes his hand and places it over her heart. "I'm here. I'm here." She repeats, her own voice steadying as she speaks. His gaze flickers from her face to her hands as he tries, desperately, to match his breaths to hers. Minutes stretch on like that, the world reduced to nothing but their breathing.

It seems to have an effect. As Inga keeps repeating it, Brian starts repeating it brokenly, struggling to complete full words. Slowly, his rapid, shallow gasps begin to ease, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly under her touch. His hands still tremble, but they are no longer clenched in panic.

After a long, quiet moment, he exhales sharply, his breath still shaky but more controlled now. His wide, unfocused eyes gradually return to hers. She sees the vulnerability in him—the rawness, the fragility he had kept hidden behind his silence.

"I–I…" he stumbles, his voice hoarse, still trembling with the aftershocks of the panic attack.

"You don't have to explain." She says softly, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. "Just breathe."

Another period of silence passes between them and Inga can still see he's shaken and scared. So the next time she speaks, she tries to make him laugh.

"Do you know something funny about my sister Senga?"

Brian croaks out what might be a no.

"It's Agnes backwards."

Brian pauses, his face scrunching up as if he's just tasted something horrific. Inga laughs at his face and he lets out a broken half laugh and a half sob.

—

Ellen has been teaching the girls on the Ridge their ABCs. She's not a natural teacher, but she's finding a way to contribute to the Ridge. Of course, she'd be able to contribute in other ways considering her skills, but this is an important one. Young girls (and even some boys) wouldn't get the chance to learn to read and write, but Ellen is making sure they do. She isn't a natural teacher so Roger has been a great help, using songs he remembers from his own childhood to make it fun for the children.

Ellen smiles warmly as she waves goodbye to Anne and Kate Henderson from the doorstep of her cabin as they run over to their brother, Obadiah, to be escorted home.

"Oh dear." She hears Roger mutter amusedly.

She turns, about to ask him what's happened when she spots two familiar figures emerging from the woods. Inga McGillivray leans heavily upon Brian as they stagger along, both drenched head to toe and Inga's blonde hair plastered to her shoulders. But despite this, both are smiling warmly at each other. Brian pulls a face causing Inga to let out a loud laugh that carries to where Ellen and Roger stand.

Ellen steps forward, ready to do something, but Roger grasps her elbow, stopping her.

"Leave them be." He says.

Ellen reluctantly nods. For months, Brian had been trapped in his own silence, his isolation thickening like a fog around him. And though Ellen had tried, and tried again, to reach him, nothing had seemed to break through. She almost feels jealous of Inga. How has she made Brian look so jubilant when Ellen, his own sister, has been trying for weeks – months – to do the same thing without success?

—

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.