07-05-2020, 01:01 AM
Natalie didn’t answer. She didn’t expect Jensen thought she would; it had not been phrased as a question. But the pale intensity of her eyes did not blink away, either. She read him in turn, without surprise of the discovery. The comfort he gave was probably not the one he imagined -- for she was glad to hear him promise it, knowing what he meant. Maybe it was entirely selfish of her to find relief in such cruelty. There was something about Jensen that brushed her with a terrible sadness. But if they stood parallel now, and she was consoled by it, she did not think there was a bridge to be nurtured between them. His soul was too gentle a companion, its shadows too deeply mourned.
Her attention shifted slowly to watch dawn’s slow spread. For a long time she said nothing, just lingered over those last words. She couldn’t talk about this with Jay. Cayli’s name had not been uttered at all these past few days, and she understood why, yet she didn’t grieve the same way. She was not even sure she had a right to the feeling given such brief acquaintance, but she supposed she ought to know by now that emotion did not claim to be logical. Natalie kept such ghosts closer; a torment, true, yet unforgotten also. And she’d needed to know.
“Thank you,” she said eventually.
Quiet followed for some time after. The pressure in her palm eased, and the silence was not unpleasant. She hoped he did not find it so either.
Natalie had known where Jay would come when he returned; it was why she waited here, to make sure she had not been wrong about him coming back at all. It was a strange mix of relief and anguish to watch him slip whole beneath the pool’s surface. She thought back to the James’s mansion, what seemed now like it might have happened an eternity ago. Only this time instead of frozen margaritas and a kid turning tricks, it was straight tequila and sensory deprivation. She did not do him the disservice of watching his grief, though she felt it tearing at her own.
Red rode the waves rippling from his eventual emergence. Pink rivulets flattened his hair.
The strike of her gaze was unflinching, yet she was not sure if it would find his eyes, or if hers would be the last face he wished to see and might turn him away from the connection. Natalie knew well enough the armour he would choose, uncertain only if it would come with the swing of a weapon alongside, to cut those last cords in self-preservation. Testament to his power over her that she would not recoil from whatever he decided. Testament to her own that it was Jensen’s words she thought of then, and what that really meant.
She searched him. The sting in her eyes by now an exhausted glaze, like the pink light glowing soft in the sky behind his head. Then her legs uncoiled and fell over the edge, boots and all. She watched the blood leech around where she sat. How much easier it would be if the sin went with it. “Is this the skinny dip you promised me, Jay? Because you realise you’re still wearing the pants.” Her voice was hoarse. The words themselves weary; hollowed out humour, knowing it was inappropriate given all he had lost and how quickly, and knowing too that he was the only one likely to understand what lay raw beneath her flippancy. No words comforted such wounds, and he would not want them.
Her attention shifted slowly to watch dawn’s slow spread. For a long time she said nothing, just lingered over those last words. She couldn’t talk about this with Jay. Cayli’s name had not been uttered at all these past few days, and she understood why, yet she didn’t grieve the same way. She was not even sure she had a right to the feeling given such brief acquaintance, but she supposed she ought to know by now that emotion did not claim to be logical. Natalie kept such ghosts closer; a torment, true, yet unforgotten also. And she’d needed to know.
“Thank you,” she said eventually.
Quiet followed for some time after. The pressure in her palm eased, and the silence was not unpleasant. She hoped he did not find it so either.
***
Natalie had known where Jay would come when he returned; it was why she waited here, to make sure she had not been wrong about him coming back at all. It was a strange mix of relief and anguish to watch him slip whole beneath the pool’s surface. She thought back to the James’s mansion, what seemed now like it might have happened an eternity ago. Only this time instead of frozen margaritas and a kid turning tricks, it was straight tequila and sensory deprivation. She did not do him the disservice of watching his grief, though she felt it tearing at her own.
Red rode the waves rippling from his eventual emergence. Pink rivulets flattened his hair.
The strike of her gaze was unflinching, yet she was not sure if it would find his eyes, or if hers would be the last face he wished to see and might turn him away from the connection. Natalie knew well enough the armour he would choose, uncertain only if it would come with the swing of a weapon alongside, to cut those last cords in self-preservation. Testament to his power over her that she would not recoil from whatever he decided. Testament to her own that it was Jensen’s words she thought of then, and what that really meant.
She searched him. The sting in her eyes by now an exhausted glaze, like the pink light glowing soft in the sky behind his head. Then her legs uncoiled and fell over the edge, boots and all. She watched the blood leech around where she sat. How much easier it would be if the sin went with it. “Is this the skinny dip you promised me, Jay? Because you realise you’re still wearing the pants.” Her voice was hoarse. The words themselves weary; hollowed out humour, knowing it was inappropriate given all he had lost and how quickly, and knowing too that he was the only one likely to understand what lay raw beneath her flippancy. No words comforted such wounds, and he would not want them.