The lands north of Arcadia are already gilded with autumn. He hadn't noticed, the first time he trod these paths; his mind had been only on Jessica, the need to free her from the force controlling her, the fear that her freedom would be bought at the cost of her life.
Now, as they travel northward in pursuit of that damned scepter, his mind is still on Jessica, but - as she is safe and well and, most importantly, with them - he has the luxury of noticing the world around him again.
A cold wind sweeps down from the north, tearing leaves from the trees, scattering them across the path. A few tangle in Jessica's hair; she doesn't seem to notice, even when he reaches out to brush them away.
"Jess." She doesn't seem to notice him, either, until he moves to put an arm around her. Then she sidesteps, not quite away, but far enough to make the gesture awkward. He lets his arm fall. "Are you all right?"
She nods absently, but he can tell from her eyes that whatever her thoughts are, they aren't pleasant. Not that he blames her, exactly; he can't even imagine what she went through while under Rhapthorne's control. In light of their relationship prior to fighting Dhoulmagus, though, he'd expected she'd at least let him comfort her once she was free. Instead, she's been distant, and he hasn't quite figured out how to close that distance. It certainly hasn't helped that they've been on the road, without a moment's privacy.
He glances toward the cloud-shrouded sun, then at the building they've been traveling toward since mid-morning. It's near enough to have resolved itself into a fair-sized church, and he doubts even King Trode would insist they forego a night's stay for another hour or less of travel. He should have ample opportunity to get Jessica alone and find out what's wrong.
Assuming, of course, she'll talk to him.
The church is both more and less than he'd hoped, large for the region, and with rooms in plenty thanks to the season and lack of travelers. Also plentiful, undoubtedly due to a lack of travelers in any season, are dust and cobwebs. There's talk of sharing the two relatively clean rooms, Eight with Jessica, himself with Yangus, until he declares the cobwebs preferable to Yangus's snoring.
Which, of course, they would be even if he didn't need Jessica to have a room to herself.
By the time the church is quiet enough that he's sure no one will see him slip into Jessica's room, it's well after midnight, and he expects her to be asleep.
Instead, she's sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for him.
"That predictable, am I?"
She smiles, but it's sad and tight and not at all like her.
"Talk to me, Jess." He moves toward the bed, but stops when she shakes her head. "Just talk."
"Do you think..." she begins, and looks away. When she speaks again, the candlelight reflects off tears. "Do you think it might have been better if you hadn't saved me?"
"What?" He doesn't stop this time, not until he's on the bed beside her and she's in his arms. She pulls away, but there's no real strength behind it, even though she refuses to relax against him.
"If you'd killed me, you would have gotten the scepter back, and Sir Leopold wouldn't have...wouldn't...David would still be alive, and this would all be over."
"Are you mad?" he demands, startling her, startling himself. "Have you truly convinced yourself it would have been so easy?"
She stares at him; he thinks he's frightening her, perhaps as badly as her first words frightened him, and takes a deep breath. "If we had killed you-as if we could have-with no idea of the scepter's true power, all we likely would have done was lose another of our number to Rhapthorne. David would still be dead, and our strength would be halved, assuming Rhapthorne didn't have the wit to kill the rest of us before leaving Arcadia." He strokes the tears from her cheek, fingers lingering on the smooth skin, and forces his voice back under control before he can wake anyone. "And even if you were right, even if we could have ended things there, it wouldn't have been worth it."
"I feel...I have dreams where I want to kill you all, in horrible ways. It's like he's still part of me." She won't meet his eyes. "How can you say my life is worth the deaths of the people you know he'll kill, when I might be as bad as he is?"
"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" he asks, feeling vaguely guilty at his relief that she isn't angry with him over his part in the battle. "Afraid you'll kill me in my sleep?"
"This isn't funny! He used me, and I don't know if part of him is still in me, or if...if these horrible dreams are me."
"Jess, he controlled you, he didn't change you. You were exhausted and wounded and had no idea what was in that scepter, and he got the upper hand through no fault of yours." He leans forward to kiss her forehead. "And he had you for weeks; you've only been free a few days, it's no wonder you dream about him."
She shakes her head, and he's relieved that she's her usual stubborn self even as he wishes she'd just believe him. "You don't know that's all it is."
"I know that even with Rhapthorne in control, you didn't kill anyone. I doubt that's going to change now that he's gone."
"There were guards at the checkpoint..."
"Frightened, but alive; one of them found work with Dominico, the poor bastard, and we heard the tale from him." As soon as he says it, he sees the pattern, the evidence that Jessica had fought Rhapthorne as surely as the rest of them. "Intimidation seems to be all you allowed Rhapthorne to do."
"I don't think..."
"No, you don't," he chides, earning a frown. "But if you did, you'd realize you had ample opportunity to kill David before we arrived, but didn't. You left rather than fight us, even though you were surely more prepared for a battle than we. You even waited for us to return before you attacked again. Almost as if you knew we'd find a way to free you, if you gave us the chance."
Their eyes meet, and at last he sees hope in hers. Slowly, she relaxes in his arms, her head settling against his shoulder. "Do you really believe that?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
"And the dreams..."
"Just nightmares, Jess; they'll fade if you'll let them." He bows his head to kiss her. "And I'll help, if you'll let me."
She doesn't answer immediately, just takes several shuddering breaths. Then her arms slide around him, and he knows her answer.
Written for 101 Kisses. Theme: #17 - Falling Leaves, #69 - Cobwebs
