[ Tarja looks visibly relieved at Jill's reassurance, glancing back over at Clive with softer eyes, reaching over to place the back of her hand at his forehead, dutifully ignoring the fact that he seems less than pleased. When she's satisfied he's not running a fever, and when she sees Clive take a sip of the water, she leaves, glancing over her shoulder one more time at Jill.
Make sure he rests.
Clive stops with the bread in his mouth, both offended and guilted by Tarja's admonishment, but Tarja leaves, closing the door behind them, before he can respond, and he's a bit more sullen teenager as he finishes taking his first bite, chewing and swallowing slowly, as ordered. It hits his stomach like lead, and almost threatens to come back up, but he takes another sip of water and it helps, a little. ]
I've slept.
[ He says, but it's clear he hasn't slept well in days, hasn't really let himself try to recuperate from his wounds to his body and his heart. Though, truly, he's more sullen about the moment being ruined, though he's made up his mind about it. But he can't ask now, not when he's supposed to be eating and drinking and resting. He takes another bite, swallows.
Looks up at Jill, sudden worry clouding his expression. ]
You'll be here when I wake up? This isn't a dream?
( 'I've slept' and Clive is lucky that Jill is prioritizing making sure he eats rather than attempting to chide him over his lack of self preservation. Her focus now is that he doesn't end up with his food over them both and the bed rather than in his stomach, and to reassure himself and her that this is real.
For if it weren't, if she were to wake up at the Hideaway to an empty bed -- it would break her.
She waits until he's eaten a bit more before she nods, eyes searching out his again as if that is reassurance enough. Is there shame to be found in feeling like she's on the verge of tears again? Jill thinks not, even though she thinks she might have run out of them in one go. He made her break her vow never to cry under the sun, and she'll only forgive him if he never leaves her again. )
If it is, I'm content to stay in it forever. ( They have earned themselves that much, Jill thinks. The freedom to indulge in this miraculous fantasy. But it is not what they should do. And she wishes to keep the doubt from his face, his eyes, reassure him that no matter what else they face, they'll do it together. ) But no, all of this is real. I won't let go of your hand, Clive, and I'll be here.
[ Her own eyes reaching his is reassurance, more than she'll ever know. Her words, too, and something in him relaxes for the first time in moons, all the way down to his bones and he suddenly feels weak and tired and small. There's only a small crust of the bread left, and the water is half gone, and he decides that now is as good a time as any to consider it finished for now and he only lets go of her hand to reach for the tray in his lap, trying to twist to put it on the nightstand, wincing as he moves in a way his wounded ribcage does not enjoy.
But he pushes through the pain, as he always has since he was young. The only way to go is forward. What good is he as a First Shield if he can't even handle a little bit of soreness?
Still, the deed takes him longer than he would like, though not nearly as long as it feels, and he lays back in the bed, closing his eyes, hand searching out for Jill's once more. ]
( He doesn't have to search for long, Jill reaching for him the moment his hand is free. It feels better to hold it, to have him, than to be without -- her brow frowning only slightly as he clearly feels every wound left upon him by Ultima. One day she will ask more of what transpired there, if Clive ever feels like sharing. But for now she is content to rest and have this, this impossible thing she thought she would never have again.
Once Clive's breathing evens, Jill moves to lay next to him, pressing herself into his side on the narrow cot. The hand that holds his rests over his heart, her head against his shoulder, her legs already thrown over his to both keep herself on the bed and to hold him down. It won't be a restful, easy sleep -- they're both too haunted by nightmares for that -- but it will be rest.
And, with the slow rise and fall of Clive's chest to reassure her, Jill falls asleep too, only rousing in the morning with the faint sounds of activity above and around them. They must be coming into port, she thinks, through the early morning haze. She should, by all rights, join them to make it easier, but she hasn't felt this warm in weeks without Clive there to keep her warm--
Clive.
The events of the previous day wash over her with a sudden swell of grief and relief, and she cracks an eye open just to make sure that it wasn't some fresh torment. But it is Clive she's sleeping against, and a small smile washes over her face -- he's alive. )
[ He does sleep. He does. And there's the barest glint of silver light from the night sky peeking in through the cracks in the door, and Clive's eyes open, still heavy lidded and exhausted but unable to go back to sleep. His mind is too busy racing, visions of Joshua and Dion in his mind, of Ultima and Ultimalis, blood and fire. He can't get the weight of Joshua in his arms to lift, and damn his wounds, he wants to go outside, cool his head. Tarja can yell at him for it later, but—
But there's actual physical weight on his legs, and he realizes there's someone next to him, a hand clasped on his on his chest, a head pressed to his shoulder. He turns slightly, still groggy, and in what little moonlight there is, she looks like an angel, peaceful and serene.
His savior, in so many ways. And he can't move her. He alternates from watching her sleep to staring at the ceiling, and he isn't sure when or if he falls back asleep but suddenly there's much brighter light coming in and Jill is still next to him, awake and smiling.
( Ah. The smile still doesn't leave her as she presses her face into the warmth of his body, though he can surely feel the way her cheeks heat a little. That such a thing can still make her flustered, perhaps now more than ever-- it's small moments like these that are worth it. Are worth all that they've gone through, this was what they fought for, after all. )
Good morning, Clive.
( The relief she feels at being able to say that once more, knowing that this isn't a dream. That he is real and solid and kept his promise to her. As he always does.
For a moment she wonders if she should make a move to leave him, but if Tarja hasn't interrupted them yet then Jill will capitalize on this time together. They'll soon have to make their way back to the hideaway and then... she's not certain what they'll do from that point. It's something to consider in the future, now that they have one.
Jill still does want to leave, to go and spread her wings away from the Twins and see what the rest of this world has in store, but she won't leave everyone else in the lurch, still needing their help in order to keep the world afloat just a little while longer. Something closer to home, perhaps.
It's something to think of later. For now, there's Clive. )
[ He does feel the blush against his shoulder, manages the energy to smile a little in return; he'd taken to calling her that during their most private moments because it felt right — she's descended from queens, and he's just an outlaw, and it was drilled into him from a young age that you always respect those in station above you, and what better time and place than when he's worshiping her?
(Sometimes, like now, he'll do it outside their bedroom just to see her blush, because the way the pink flushes across her cheeks makes her even more beautiful, a feat he thought impossible.)
He still doesn't want to disturb her, but he wants to see all of her, and he raises the hand still on his to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back as she greets him in return, steeling himself before he moves to prop himself up on his elbow, back to his pillow. ]
Mid must really have pushed those engines, [ he says, surprised, like he's not currently only in stable condition and hardly better. He can sit up, he can breathe, he's alive, he's fine, clearly. ]
But I'll be glad to be home.
[ Home, without Joshua. That sharp pain of grief stabs him in the heart, and his face closes off, fingers threading with Jill's. ]
I'm sure there's a mountain of letters I need to sort through and get to work on.
[ That's how you deal with it, right? The pain of losing someone again after you've found them, knowing this time there's no hope of their return. You go back to your life, throw yourself into your work. Keep locking it up until you're numb to it. And then he realizes, maybe Jill doesn't want to go home— ]
( Chiding him for the continual downplaying of his accomplishments for her, just because of where she comes from, would be the first thing on her lips if she knew in this moment. He is Clive Rosfield, and he saved the world; more than that he is blessed with a noble heart and the deepest love for all, and she is simply Jill Warrick. That he holds her in such high esteem is enough to make her feel unworthy of it, the blood on her hands only offset by the work she's done to ease the ghosts.
Jill shifts enough that he can move comfortably, though her brow creases slightly as he withdraws. She knows the urge, it's what she did, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to call him out for it. To keep him from doing the same. There is work to be done, yes, but it can wait just a moment longer now that the clouds have cleared and the danger passed.
Taking his hand, Jill presses his knuckles to her cheek, breathing in and out as she relishes the fact that he's here at all. )
Tarja will have your head if you think about working the moment you're back. ( A beat. ) As will I.
( She's just saying. As for what she'll do? Jill's eyes close, considering the options ahead of her. )
I want to leave the Twins. ( She doesn't give him any chance to but in, to assume that she doesn't want to do it alone. ) When you can leave with me, that's when we'll go. Until then -- I thought about going back to the North.
( The Blight might have destroyed all life there, in the place where she was born, but she wishes to see it once more. To say goodbye before leaving the Twins and venturing out. )
[ She is the furthest thing from simple — she is complex and faceted, an icicle, beautiful to behold but sharp if you're not careful, and it's what he loves about her. That she's descended from queens came as no surprise to him; she's always held herself like one, even when they were small.
She's cool to the touch on the back of his hand, and just for a moment he lets himself feel her, realize that she's there with him, in the flesh, that even if she does go somewhere it won't be without him and if it is without him then she will return to him. She told him once that she knows he will always come back to her, and it is true, as long as she'll have him, but not a day has gone by where he doesn't think the same as her. As long as she'll have him, she will return to him.
He lets out a sigh at her admonishment; she's right, and he knows it, but he's been gone too long already and the people need him—
And so does she, says a selfish part of him. More than any of those other people. And if he goes out and truly does kill himself this time, then what good is he? No good for her.
At her mention of the north, he looks up at her, a little surprised. And then he smiles. ]
( Whatever work they all have ahead of them, it's work that must be done by everyone -- there is no one pair of shoulders for them to rest on this time, no matter how Clive might fight to bear the weight of them all. No, with the new world they want they have to reach for each other's hands and work together. Gone is his part to play, and thank the Founder for that, Jill thinks.
Now, perhaps, they can finally rest.
Her own return smile is soft and kind, finally relaxed from the tight line of yesterday. Sadness still lingers around her eyes, the grief for their lost still heavy in her heart, but now is the time to honor their memory by living. )
I can barely remember it before the war between the Dutchy and the North. But while it was always bitingly cold, there was a warmth there, amongst family.
[ They never really spoke about it, as children. She had been introduced to them as part of their family, now, and it had always felt to Clive like asking about it would have been forbidden. It was easy to tell she missed it, though, and he and Joshua had done their best to ease that homesickness with what little as children themselves they could provide. In time, she truly was one of the family, and there had been no need to ask.
( She confesses, before adjusting her position by his side to less trap him and more comfortable for simply... enjoying each other's presence. Tarja will surely interrupt them in time -- or Gav, if tradition holds. But while they have this moment, this privacy, Jill intends to enjoy every second of it.
Though Jill does not let go of his hand. )
The Blight had already begun to eat away at our lands, and I remember my father in long conversations with all manner of people, trying to decide the best course of action. We lacked the guidance of any of the Ice Queens of old, or their power. I remember... ( She frowns, her grip on his hand tightening. ) I remember my father telling me that what he was doing was for the good of the Northern Territories.
[ He squeezes her hand, never taking his eyes off of her as she moves, maybe a little afraid that she's going to get up and leave him. ]
And it was.
[ He scoots a little closer, brow furrowing at the effort, but it's important to him to be as close as possible, breathing in her scent. ]
You know as well as I that people must do what they need to survive.
[ All during his youth, Clive had heard his father speak about the Northern Territories trying to encroach on Rosarian land, a perennial thorn in Elwin's side, it had seemed. But there had always been a tinge of understanding from the Archduke, that he knew why the King of the North was slowly advancing, but that he couldn't allow it to happen, no matter what. Such things had been above him when he was younger, and then Jill arrived and it all seemed to end, and Clive hadn't thought much of it anymore, until now. ]
No one deserves such a fate. And if we can go there and save as many people as we can, then I say we do it.
( She is never leaving him, and if he tries she will simply follow him to the depths of whatever counts as hell these days and back. There is nothing now that can keep them apart; Jill brings up his hand to press her lips against his knuckles.
Lips that break out into a smile, eyes fluttering closed as she nods. )
If there is anyone there, it will be far to the north. ( Men, women, and children who rely on magic and crystals for warmth. Getting to them and letting them know that they no longer have to struggle alone -- it would be worth whatever the struggle will be to get to them. ) But you're right, no one should be left alone in the cold. Not when we can offer what help we can.
( Jill's brow furrows in thought, picking through the memories of her childhood to formulate a plan; they have until someone disrupts them and calls them away for other duties onboard the Enterprise, and she intends on making good use of it. )
Taking Mid's ship is out of the question. The seas will be ice, and no matter how fantastic of a ship she is, there's no use in taking her when we aren't guaranteed a port.
[ There's a small smattering of pink across his cheeks when she kisses his knuckles — so often it's him doing it to her that it never crossed his mind she'd reicprocate. He likes it. ]
Then we walk. [ A pause. ]
Or ride. Ambrosia can likely make the trip, but we'll need to get you a dedicated chocobo. The less of us that go, the better. We don't want them thinking we're there to attack. And then, when we've gained their trust, we can figure out a way for all of us to come back, if they want. If you want.
[ To come back, that is. This is her homeland they're speaking of, and if she wants to stay, then they'll stay, no questions asked. ]
It will take us a few days once we're back at the Hideaway to prepare, but once that's ready, we can go.
[ Near fatal wounds? What near fatal wounds? Clive would gladly walk into hell with every bone broken in his body if it meant giving Jill the world, and he doesn't want to sit around and wait for himself to get better to go and do that. This is as important to him as it is to her, and he will treat it with the urgency it deserves, damn it. ]
( His timeline seems absurdly short considering he was nearly dead less than a week ago. Jill sighs and rests a hand over one of the many bandages over his chest. It isn't that she doesn't appreciate or understand his eagerness to do anything but stand around, but really. Does he think she'll just let him walk it off after he nearly died? )
Clive. ( She says, catching his gaze and holding it. ) We'll go when Tarja finally gives up on trying to keep you in the infirmary. That we've gone so long this morning without her running in to make sure you haven't gotten up and walked off is impressive enough.
( As for if she'll want to stay, well. Jill hasn't even concerned that, as divorced as she feels from her homeland. There most likely isn't even a place for her amongst what remains, and she doubts she'd recognize anyone who knew her from before, either. )
[ He opens his mouth to argue — that he's up and he's breathing and he's fine, he promised her the world and he's going to keep that promise, even if he has to sneak out in the middle of the night to do it, but then the bell signaling their arrival at port sounds in the distance and Clive is blinded by the burning white hot light of the sun as the door opens and Tarja strides in.
Oh, you're still in here. Fancy that.
She says it like an exasperated school marm, and looks to Jill, nodding once in thanks for keeping her patient in line and in bed. Tarja picks up the discarded trousers at the end of the bed and holds them up.
Come on, put your trousers on. We're at port.
She turns to Jill, apologetic.
We'll meet you outside.
Clive turns to Tarja, because it's not like Jill's never seen him naked before, but her glance towards him could wither a marlboro and he (wisely) decides to keep his mouth shut, instead turning to Jill and giving her a quick kiss. ]
Go on. I'm alright.
[ The ship is still unloading at the dock when Clive finally emerges from the cabin onto the deck, dressed in simple linens, leaning on Tarja for support. One the wounds on his back had opened in the night, and Tarja had insisted on stitching and bandaging it back up before letting him leave; if she'd had her way, he wouldn't be walking at all, but he insisted. He needed everyone to see that he was alright. The horizon of Port Isolde stretches before him, but he doesn't see it. He's looking for Jill, brow furrowing when he doesn't see her right away. ]
( Tarja at least has the grace and awareness to know she's interrupting, unlike Gav. Still, Jill nods at the other woman in thanks for taking care of a man who is notoriously difficult to keep abed. Not for her and Tarja's lack of trying, though through radically different methods. It's with great reluctance that she lets go of his hand and walks out the door, giving a nod to Tarja on the way out. )
Do as she says, Clive. I'll see you soon.
( She's called away from waiting first by Lord Byron, who wishes to ascertain Clive's health and then by Torgal, who wishes for some food. It's enough to make Jill's own stomach growl -- had she forgotten to eat in the days leading up to finding Clive? So it's a quick bowl of porridge before she and Torgal make their way back up to the deck. The fresh air, the sight of the Dutchy... it all falls away again when she sees Clive, her relief at his survival flooding back at once.
Torgal sprints ahead to greet Clive, tail wagging happily as he barks his delight to see the man once more; Jill doesn't mind waiting until after their second reunion to offer him support on the side Tarja isn't. )
Thank you, I'll take him from here.
( He's a weight she'll gladly bear, gladly support, after all. )
[ There she is. He doesn't want her out of sight, right now. He's already lost one of the most precious people to him, if he loses her... Then it really all will be over for him. His brow relaxes, and he reaches his hand down for Torgal to sniff and then to pet his head, smiling at someone who isn't Jill for the first time since he left the Hideaway. ]
Did you keep her safe, boy?
[ Torgal barks, pressing his face to Clive's thigh, gentler this time, so his master doesn't fall over. He hovers behind Clive as Jill takes Clive's other arm, ready to catch him if he falls, and with Torgal and Jill's help, Clive manages to make it down the deck to the dock, where a chocobo drawn wagon awaits them to spirit them off to the Rosfield manor. At this, Clive does protest, but Tarja and Byron both cut him off, the ever jovial Byron quite serious, for once. He nearly died. He needs to rest, and a long trip back home isn't resting. Byron had already sent word ahead to make rooms ready for he and Jill's stay (because Byron knows Jill and Torgal aren't going anywhere if Clive isn't), and to prepare it for the long haul.
Clive isn't allowed to leave the manor until he can walk on his own, and those are Tarja's final orders as his physicker. Byron has his own on staff, though not nearly as skilled as Tarja, but Clive is stable, and she shouldn't be needed. If she is, well. They'll cross that bridge as they get there.
He doesn't like this, feeling helpless, and he refuses to let go of Jill's hand the entire way there, and again the entire way to their rooms, where he's promptly put back into (granted, a more comfortable) bed, a tray of bread, water, and fruit that will sit light on the stomach nearby.
If you need anythin', jus' give us a shout, alright? Mid says as she waves goodbye, and Clive is left, with Torgal laying on his feet and Jill at his bedside. Byron, too, makes his exit, apologizing for not being able to stay, but he will see them at dinner, of course, and the room is left quiet, the distant sound of the gulls the only thing to break the silence.
And Clive sighs. ]
All this fuss.
[ He raises his good hand, clenches a fist. ]
I'm going to go mad if I have to stay in bed, Jill.
( Jill can find no fault in Bryon's desire to make sure that Clive is recovered enough to where he can trust that he isn't about to fall face first on the ground the moment he tries to take a step unaided. The man lost his family, found it again, and lost one more member. That Clive lives is nothing short of a miracle, and she and Bryon are united in making sure he takes care of himself. Jill thanks him for his generosity and says that yes, they'll do their best to make it to dinner, and once the sound of his footsteps fades away into the distance, lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Which means she can level a look at the man she loves, though she doesn't let go of his hand. )
You would do the same if it were any of us in your position. ( Jill points out knowingly, shaking her head in wry amusement. ) The bedrest is only for now, Clive. But the sooner you take your physicker's advice the sooner you won't be confined to it.
( She simply stating the truth. The bed is, thankfully for the both of them, large enough that she can lie down next to him with ease. Thankfully the Lord Bryon was clever enough that neither of them needed to ever mention the status of their... relationship in order to have accommodations made for them, he just understood at a certain point. )
[ There is no point in arguing with her, although he looks for a moment like he might try. There's even a brief second where he looks up at her with those eyes, but her own look right back at him mollifies him and he sighs again, this time defeated. They're all right, and he hates it, feels like a helpless kitten mewling for its mother. It should be him protecting them, not the other way around. ]
You won't leave me to fend for myself?
[ He's hopeful; he wouldn't blame her if she did, surely she must have more important matters to attend, both here and at home. She was always better at the diplomatic side of things; he never had formal lessons on how to run a state, those had gone to Joshua, but he'd at least tried to absorb them through osmosis, and while he did learn how to lead a battalion from the Lord Commander, the boardroom and the battlefield were two entirely different worlds. He does well enough leading outlaws, but there are town leaders and bureaucracy even in the littlest of settlements, and if he didn't put them off automatically by appearance, he certainly did when he opened his mouth and spoke like a soldier and not a diplomat. He doesn't know how long he'd been passed out on that beach but certainly long enough for her to have other places to be. Right? So if she needs to go, she needs to go and he won't stop her.
Where would I go? ( The only place she wants to be is here with him. She runs her thumb over his knuckles to reassure him that she isn't going to be going far away from him. Not even to another room if she can help it. ) The others have everything well in hand. And if I tried they would just send me back, knowing where I'd rather be.
( There is nothing that needs her attention. Or his, frankly. They've done their job so well in encouraging others to reach out, to grasp their own fates, that soon they'll be out of a job. Sure, there will always be people who need their specific brand of help -- the world isn't at peace yet, after all -- but it no longer requires just them.
Jill shifts slightly before deciding to throw caution and perhaps medical advice to the wind, getting up to lie down next to him. This way they are, at least, together without a constant reminder that he is bedridden and she is not. )
[ She lays down on the bed next to him and his eyes go with her, never letting her hand go. Instead, he raises his arm to make room for her, pulling her in as close as he can without hurting himself (which is fairly close; he can stand the throb of his wounds if it means she's there next to him, in his arms, where she belongs). He places her hand on his chest, watching her with open and honest eyes. A small smile crosses his face, and he considers, for a moment. ]
I wouldn't mind seeing you and uncle perform the Saint and the Sentry, you know. You'd make a fine Madu.
( She does not give him a playful shove at his suggestion, though it is a near thing. Suggesting she take the role of Madu, the nerve of him. Jill does her best not to jostle him as she settles, keeping a watchful eye on the bandages across his chest as to not pull them off and undo all of Tarja's hard work. )
And finally let your uncle have the spotlight? He'd never be able to thank us enough.
( But that is an idea. Clive would never think they'd actually do it for him, which makes her want to see that they recite something from the play, at the very least. )
( She would shift slightly in bed to stare him down if he hadn't started to stroke her hair -- it's enough to soothe the remaining anxiety and stress she'd been carrying since that moment she saw Mieta's light disappear. He can say she'll get sick of him, and perhaps she might have, but the fact remains that she thought he was dead not a day or two before. It will take time to wear away the sheer relief she feels. )
I'll handle it as they come. If they come. Right now all I want is to know you still breathe.
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Make sure he rests.
Clive stops with the bread in his mouth, both offended and guilted by Tarja's admonishment, but Tarja leaves, closing the door behind them, before he can respond, and he's a bit more sullen teenager as he finishes taking his first bite, chewing and swallowing slowly, as ordered. It hits his stomach like lead, and almost threatens to come back up, but he takes another sip of water and it helps, a little. ]
I've slept.
[ He says, but it's clear he hasn't slept well in days, hasn't really let himself try to recuperate from his wounds to his body and his heart. Though, truly, he's more sullen about the moment being ruined, though he's made up his mind about it. But he can't ask now, not when he's supposed to be eating and drinking and resting. He takes another bite, swallows.
Looks up at Jill, sudden worry clouding his expression. ]
You'll be here when I wake up? This isn't a dream?
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For if it weren't, if she were to wake up at the Hideaway to an empty bed -- it would break her.
She waits until he's eaten a bit more before she nods, eyes searching out his again as if that is reassurance enough. Is there shame to be found in feeling like she's on the verge of tears again? Jill thinks not, even though she thinks she might have run out of them in one go. He made her break her vow never to cry under the sun, and she'll only forgive him if he never leaves her again. )
If it is, I'm content to stay in it forever. ( They have earned themselves that much, Jill thinks. The freedom to indulge in this miraculous fantasy. But it is not what they should do. And she wishes to keep the doubt from his face, his eyes, reassure him that no matter what else they face, they'll do it together. ) But no, all of this is real. I won't let go of your hand, Clive, and I'll be here.
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But he pushes through the pain, as he always has since he was young. The only way to go is forward. What good is he as a First Shield if he can't even handle a little bit of soreness?
Still, the deed takes him longer than he would like, though not nearly as long as it feels, and he lays back in the bed, closing his eyes, hand searching out for Jill's once more. ]
Alright. Maybe just for a little while.
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Once Clive's breathing evens, Jill moves to lay next to him, pressing herself into his side on the narrow cot. The hand that holds his rests over his heart, her head against his shoulder, her legs already thrown over his to both keep herself on the bed and to hold him down. It won't be a restful, easy sleep -- they're both too haunted by nightmares for that -- but it will be rest.
And, with the slow rise and fall of Clive's chest to reassure her, Jill falls asleep too, only rousing in the morning with the faint sounds of activity above and around them. They must be coming into port, she thinks, through the early morning haze. She should, by all rights, join them to make it easier, but she hasn't felt this warm in weeks without Clive there to keep her warm--
Clive.
The events of the previous day wash over her with a sudden swell of grief and relief, and she cracks an eye open just to make sure that it wasn't some fresh torment. But it is Clive she's sleeping against, and a small smile washes over her face -- he's alive. )
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But there's actual physical weight on his legs, and he realizes there's someone next to him, a hand clasped on his on his chest, a head pressed to his shoulder. He turns slightly, still groggy, and in what little moonlight there is, she looks like an angel, peaceful and serene.
His savior, in so many ways. And he can't move her. He alternates from watching her sleep to staring at the ceiling, and he isn't sure when or if he falls back asleep but suddenly there's much brighter light coming in and Jill is still next to him, awake and smiling.
So it wasn't a dream. He is alive. ]
...Good morning, my lady.
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Good morning, Clive.
( The relief she feels at being able to say that once more, knowing that this isn't a dream. That he is real and solid and kept his promise to her. As he always does.
For a moment she wonders if she should make a move to leave him, but if Tarja hasn't interrupted them yet then Jill will capitalize on this time together. They'll soon have to make their way back to the hideaway and then... she's not certain what they'll do from that point. It's something to consider in the future, now that they have one.
Jill still does want to leave, to go and spread her wings away from the Twins and see what the rest of this world has in store, but she won't leave everyone else in the lurch, still needing their help in order to keep the world afloat just a little while longer. Something closer to home, perhaps.
It's something to think of later. For now, there's Clive. )
We must be coming into port shortly.
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(Sometimes, like now, he'll do it outside their bedroom just to see her blush, because the way the pink flushes across her cheeks makes her even more beautiful, a feat he thought impossible.)
He still doesn't want to disturb her, but he wants to see all of her, and he raises the hand still on his to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back as she greets him in return, steeling himself before he moves to prop himself up on his elbow, back to his pillow. ]
Mid must really have pushed those engines, [ he says, surprised, like he's not currently only in stable condition and hardly better. He can sit up, he can breathe, he's alive, he's fine, clearly. ]
But I'll be glad to be home.
[ Home, without Joshua. That sharp pain of grief stabs him in the heart, and his face closes off, fingers threading with Jill's. ]
I'm sure there's a mountain of letters I need to sort through and get to work on.
[ That's how you deal with it, right? The pain of losing someone again after you've found them, knowing this time there's no hope of their return. You go back to your life, throw yourself into your work. Keep locking it up until you're numb to it. And then he realizes, maybe Jill doesn't want to go home— ]
And you? What will you do?
[ 'Tell me, and I'll make it possible.' ]
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Jill shifts enough that he can move comfortably, though her brow creases slightly as he withdraws. She knows the urge, it's what she did, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to call him out for it. To keep him from doing the same. There is work to be done, yes, but it can wait just a moment longer now that the clouds have cleared and the danger passed.
Taking his hand, Jill presses his knuckles to her cheek, breathing in and out as she relishes the fact that he's here at all. )
Tarja will have your head if you think about working the moment you're back. ( A beat. ) As will I.
( She's just saying. As for what she'll do? Jill's eyes close, considering the options ahead of her. )
I want to leave the Twins. ( She doesn't give him any chance to but in, to assume that she doesn't want to do it alone. ) When you can leave with me, that's when we'll go. Until then -- I thought about going back to the North.
( The Blight might have destroyed all life there, in the place where she was born, but she wishes to see it once more. To say goodbye before leaving the Twins and venturing out. )
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She's cool to the touch on the back of his hand, and just for a moment he lets himself feel her, realize that she's there with him, in the flesh, that even if she does go somewhere it won't be without him and if it is without him then she will return to him. She told him once that she knows he will always come back to her, and it is true, as long as she'll have him, but not a day has gone by where he doesn't think the same as her. As long as she'll have him, she will return to him.
He lets out a sigh at her admonishment; she's right, and he knows it, but he's been gone too long already and the people need him—
And so does she, says a selfish part of him. More than any of those other people. And if he goes out and truly does kill himself this time, then what good is he? No good for her.
At her mention of the north, he looks up at her, a little surprised. And then he smiles. ]
I've always wanted to go to the North.
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Now, perhaps, they can finally rest.
Her own return smile is soft and kind, finally relaxed from the tight line of yesterday. Sadness still lingers around her eyes, the grief for their lost still heavy in her heart, but now is the time to honor their memory by living. )
I can barely remember it before the war between the Dutchy and the North. But while it was always bitingly cold, there was a warmth there, amongst family.
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[ They never really spoke about it, as children. She had been introduced to them as part of their family, now, and it had always felt to Clive like asking about it would have been forbidden. It was easy to tell she missed it, though, and he and Joshua had done their best to ease that homesickness with what little as children themselves they could provide. In time, she truly was one of the family, and there had been no need to ask.
But he'd always wondered. ]
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( She confesses, before adjusting her position by his side to less trap him and more comfortable for simply... enjoying each other's presence. Tarja will surely interrupt them in time -- or Gav, if tradition holds. But while they have this moment, this privacy, Jill intends to enjoy every second of it.
Though Jill does not let go of his hand. )
The Blight had already begun to eat away at our lands, and I remember my father in long conversations with all manner of people, trying to decide the best course of action. We lacked the guidance of any of the Ice Queens of old, or their power. I remember... ( She frowns, her grip on his hand tightening. ) I remember my father telling me that what he was doing was for the good of the Northern Territories.
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And it was.
[ He scoots a little closer, brow furrowing at the effort, but it's important to him to be as close as possible, breathing in her scent. ]
You know as well as I that people must do what they need to survive.
[ All during his youth, Clive had heard his father speak about the Northern Territories trying to encroach on Rosarian land, a perennial thorn in Elwin's side, it had seemed. But there had always been a tinge of understanding from the Archduke, that he knew why the King of the North was slowly advancing, but that he couldn't allow it to happen, no matter what. Such things had been above him when he was younger, and then Jill arrived and it all seemed to end, and Clive hadn't thought much of it anymore, until now. ]
No one deserves such a fate. And if we can go there and save as many people as we can, then I say we do it.
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Lips that break out into a smile, eyes fluttering closed as she nods. )
If there is anyone there, it will be far to the north. ( Men, women, and children who rely on magic and crystals for warmth. Getting to them and letting them know that they no longer have to struggle alone -- it would be worth whatever the struggle will be to get to them. ) But you're right, no one should be left alone in the cold. Not when we can offer what help we can.
( Jill's brow furrows in thought, picking through the memories of her childhood to formulate a plan; they have until someone disrupts them and calls them away for other duties onboard the Enterprise, and she intends on making good use of it. )
Taking Mid's ship is out of the question. The seas will be ice, and no matter how fantastic of a ship she is, there's no use in taking her when we aren't guaranteed a port.
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Then we walk. [ A pause. ]
Or ride. Ambrosia can likely make the trip, but we'll need to get you a dedicated chocobo. The less of us that go, the better. We don't want them thinking we're there to attack. And then, when we've gained their trust, we can figure out a way for all of us to come back, if they want. If you want.
[ To come back, that is. This is her homeland they're speaking of, and if she wants to stay, then they'll stay, no questions asked. ]
It will take us a few days once we're back at the Hideaway to prepare, but once that's ready, we can go.
[ Near fatal wounds? What near fatal wounds? Clive would gladly walk into hell with every bone broken in his body if it meant giving Jill the world, and he doesn't want to sit around and wait for himself to get better to go and do that. This is as important to him as it is to her, and he will treat it with the urgency it deserves, damn it. ]
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Clive. ( She says, catching his gaze and holding it. ) We'll go when Tarja finally gives up on trying to keep you in the infirmary. That we've gone so long this morning without her running in to make sure you haven't gotten up and walked off is impressive enough.
( As for if she'll want to stay, well. Jill hasn't even concerned that, as divorced as she feels from her homeland. There most likely isn't even a place for her amongst what remains, and she doubts she'd recognize anyone who knew her from before, either. )
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Oh, you're still in here. Fancy that.
She says it like an exasperated school marm, and looks to Jill, nodding once in thanks for keeping her patient in line and in bed. Tarja picks up the discarded trousers at the end of the bed and holds them up.
Come on, put your trousers on. We're at port.
She turns to Jill, apologetic.
We'll meet you outside.
Clive turns to Tarja, because it's not like Jill's never seen him naked before, but her glance towards him could wither a marlboro and he (wisely) decides to keep his mouth shut, instead turning to Jill and giving her a quick kiss. ]
Go on. I'm alright.
[ The ship is still unloading at the dock when Clive finally emerges from the cabin onto the deck, dressed in simple linens, leaning on Tarja for support. One the wounds on his back had opened in the night, and Tarja had insisted on stitching and bandaging it back up before letting him leave; if she'd had her way, he wouldn't be walking at all, but he insisted. He needed everyone to see that he was alright. The horizon of Port Isolde stretches before him, but he doesn't see it. He's looking for Jill, brow furrowing when he doesn't see her right away. ]
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Do as she says, Clive. I'll see you soon.
( She's called away from waiting first by Lord Byron, who wishes to ascertain Clive's health and then by Torgal, who wishes for some food. It's enough to make Jill's own stomach growl -- had she forgotten to eat in the days leading up to finding Clive? So it's a quick bowl of porridge before she and Torgal make their way back up to the deck. The fresh air, the sight of the Dutchy... it all falls away again when she sees Clive, her relief at his survival flooding back at once.
Torgal sprints ahead to greet Clive, tail wagging happily as he barks his delight to see the man once more; Jill doesn't mind waiting until after their second reunion to offer him support on the side Tarja isn't. )
Thank you, I'll take him from here.
( He's a weight she'll gladly bear, gladly support, after all. )
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Did you keep her safe, boy?
[ Torgal barks, pressing his face to Clive's thigh, gentler this time, so his master doesn't fall over. He hovers behind Clive as Jill takes Clive's other arm, ready to catch him if he falls, and with Torgal and Jill's help, Clive manages to make it down the deck to the dock, where a chocobo drawn wagon awaits them to spirit them off to the Rosfield manor. At this, Clive does protest, but Tarja and Byron both cut him off, the ever jovial Byron quite serious, for once. He nearly died. He needs to rest, and a long trip back home isn't resting. Byron had already sent word ahead to make rooms ready for he and Jill's stay (because Byron knows Jill and Torgal aren't going anywhere if Clive isn't), and to prepare it for the long haul.
Clive isn't allowed to leave the manor until he can walk on his own, and those are Tarja's final orders as his physicker. Byron has his own on staff, though not nearly as skilled as Tarja, but Clive is stable, and she shouldn't be needed. If she is, well. They'll cross that bridge as they get there.
He doesn't like this, feeling helpless, and he refuses to let go of Jill's hand the entire way there, and again the entire way to their rooms, where he's promptly put back into (granted, a more comfortable) bed, a tray of bread, water, and fruit that will sit light on the stomach nearby.
If you need anythin', jus' give us a shout, alright? Mid says as she waves goodbye, and Clive is left, with Torgal laying on his feet and Jill at his bedside. Byron, too, makes his exit, apologizing for not being able to stay, but he will see them at dinner, of course, and the room is left quiet, the distant sound of the gulls the only thing to break the silence.
And Clive sighs. ]
All this fuss.
[ He raises his good hand, clenches a fist. ]
I'm going to go mad if I have to stay in bed, Jill.
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Which means she can level a look at the man she loves, though she doesn't let go of his hand. )
You would do the same if it were any of us in your position. ( Jill points out knowingly, shaking her head in wry amusement. ) The bedrest is only for now, Clive. But the sooner you take your physicker's advice the sooner you won't be confined to it.
( She simply stating the truth. The bed is, thankfully for the both of them, large enough that she can lie down next to him with ease. Thankfully the Lord Bryon was clever enough that neither of them needed to ever mention the status of their... relationship in order to have accommodations made for them, he just understood at a certain point. )
We'll find some manner of keeping you occupied.
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You won't leave me to fend for myself?
[ He's hopeful; he wouldn't blame her if she did, surely she must have more important matters to attend, both here and at home. She was always better at the diplomatic side of things; he never had formal lessons on how to run a state, those had gone to Joshua, but he'd at least tried to absorb them through osmosis, and while he did learn how to lead a battalion from the Lord Commander, the boardroom and the battlefield were two entirely different worlds. He does well enough leading outlaws, but there are town leaders and bureaucracy even in the littlest of settlements, and if he didn't put them off automatically by appearance, he certainly did when he opened his mouth and spoke like a soldier and not a diplomat. He doesn't know how long he'd been passed out on that beach but certainly long enough for her to have other places to be. Right? So if she needs to go, she needs to go and he won't stop her.
But he will be sad about it. ]
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Where would I go? ( The only place she wants to be is here with him. She runs her thumb over his knuckles to reassure him that she isn't going to be going far away from him. Not even to another room if she can help it. ) The others have everything well in hand. And if I tried they would just send me back, knowing where I'd rather be.
( There is nothing that needs her attention. Or his, frankly. They've done their job so well in encouraging others to reach out, to grasp their own fates, that soon they'll be out of a job. Sure, there will always be people who need their specific brand of help -- the world isn't at peace yet, after all -- but it no longer requires just them.
Jill shifts slightly before deciding to throw caution and perhaps medical advice to the wind, getting up to lie down next to him. This way they are, at least, together without a constant reminder that he is bedridden and she is not. )
The least I can do is keep you entertained.
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I wouldn't mind seeing you and uncle perform the Saint and the Sentry, you know. You'd make a fine Madu.
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And finally let your uncle have the spotlight? He'd never be able to thank us enough.
( But that is an idea. Clive would never think they'd actually do it for him, which makes her want to see that they recite something from the play, at the very least. )
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[ He's smiling at her, half teasing, half fond, and he reaches up with the arm that's around her to place his hand in her hair, stroking gently. ]
But I'm sure there are other things that will occupy your attention. You'll get sick of me after too long.
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( She would shift slightly in bed to stare him down if he hadn't started to stroke her hair -- it's enough to soothe the remaining anxiety and stress she'd been carrying since that moment she saw Mieta's light disappear. He can say she'll get sick of him, and perhaps she might have, but the fact remains that she thought he was dead not a day or two before. It will take time to wear away the sheer relief she feels. )
I'll handle it as they come. If they come. Right now all I want is to know you still breathe.