ofthelions | [hoc canon] stars fading but I linger on, dear [for Rachel; Elliot]

It isn't that it hasn't been difficult. It has been.

It's been incredibly painful, much of the time. It's been entirely difficult to know that they're standing on the other side of a veil, that there will never be exactly the sort of warmth and comfort anymore that a living father or friend could have provided. It's been an ache to be so close and still watch so many people who deserved so much suffer.

Helping Argine pass had been some of the worst of it. The genuine toll it had taken on Eileen and Rachel--the deep heartbreak, no matter that it was the first in a long chain of deaths which they'd actually been able to see coming--had wrenched through Edgar with the same intensity as his own death.

It isn't that, somehow, the loss has been 'worth it.' It's just that, finally, things are starting to come back into a better sort of balance.

There's nothing in the world quite like knowing Andrew and Argine are together the way they ought to be. There's nothing in the world quite like watching the way Elisha keeps his arm around Eileen's shoulders or the painfully paternal wonder in the king's eyes when he watches the girl who is now officially his daughter. There's nothing in the world quite like hearing his little girl laugh again with genuine glee actually lighting up the sound.

There's nothing like seeing Elliot being a father to his children. There's nothing like seeing Rachel actually rest her head on someone else's shoulder again.

He knows he isn't allowed all that much time. He knows that he's giving up the chance to kiss Eileen's forehead on her birthday or murmur soft advice in Elisha's ear when she steps down from being Ace. But he knows, just as much, that it's important tonight to take what time he has to sit carefully down on the edge of this particular bed and smooth back the hair of this particular sleeper as he settles into the realm of dreams properly.

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It's wonderful, seeing that smile. It's so completely affirming to see it settle in like it belongs.

"It is. It's absolutely real, Elliot."

And that's so important for both of them to know and believe.

"Don't forget that."

"I'm gonna do my best, Elliot murmurs, "Promise you."

He'll try to remember. He'll try to take care of the woman they both love-- and their child that's going to make their way into the world.

"Thank you."

The press of foreheads together is firmer this time, likely closer to what could be remembered from all those years ago.

"Promise her that too, mm? And-- promise the baby."

There. That's more familiar. That has him smiling more firmly as he nods against the forehead leaning on his.

"I will."

He'll try to care for them-- and promise them that care, unlike his own parents. It's so much better this way.

It's so easy to believe. It's so easy to feel deeply in this place between the worlds.

"Remember, mm? You're not doing this alone."

He had Rachel. He had his son and, at least some of the time, his daughters.

And he even had the world Beyond there for him.

"I'm not."

It's a good reminder to have. It's good to be able to think on the statement and know it to be true: To know he has Rachel and Aidan and his girls, and this man-- ghost-- and the others like him, loving them from Beyond.

"Thanks, Ed."

"Any time."

Almost any time, at any rate. Certainly oftener now that so many of the people he loved most in the living world would all be so much closer together.

Even the little one who he'd never really meet but who he'd watch over with almost the same ferocity he'd watched Eileen with all these years.

"I know."

And that's an improvement, too. That's a kind of trust he's never really had until recently.

But he's learned to have faith that the people who love him will stick around-- even after they've passed from this life.

There's an entirely pleased hum on his lips for the reality of that affirmation. There's a sigh of genuine contentment as he rests against the other man contentedly a few moments longer.

"And breathe, all right?"

"Workin' on it."

There had been more than a few moments of genuine panic, really. He's been doing wonderfully at working through them with Rachel.

"I promise this is the easy part, Elliot."

They hadn't had the chance, really, to have this conversation when Edgar had gotten married. Clearly the time to have it is now.

"You know what kids are like. Committing... it's the easy part when you're in love. It really is."

"You promise?"

Not that he isn't starting to get a grasp of it. It's still not something he's quite gotten as good at learning. Commitment, after all, has never been his strongest point.

There's a soft, contented chuckle for that.

"I promise. I absolutely promise. When it's the right person, it's easy."

And there's no question that Rachel is absolutely the right person.

His nod is slowly starting to be accepting of the truth of his words.

"And we're-- right for each other, now."

So much better for one another than the first time their lips had met.

The 'now' is so comforting. The 'now' is such a firm checking in to reality.

"You are. It's-- It's really beautiful, Elliot."

"It is, isn't it?"

And there's even more of an easing into the quiet joy, now.

"We're both-- really going to be happy, now."

"Exactly."

It's important, just briefly, to bump noses. It's important, just briefly, to hold on tight to being solid and real for a moment.

"Both of you. That's... that's what makes it great, you know? Knowing that... how happy you are is-- how happy she is too."

A rough, shaky sort of laugh as he bumps noses back and embraces him as well as he can.

"Never-- thought we'd get there. We're-- really lucky."

And, honestly, they'd worked really hard.

There's a low hum for that, a slight shake of his head against Elliot's.

"You are. A little. You're-- you're really working hard. It's amazing. I hope you have-- some idea, at least."

"'m starting to, I think."

Which is a lot better than he ever could've said, before.

It feels like a true success. It radiates true contentment from him completely as he gives the other man's shoulder a little squeeze.

"Keep thinking it. It's beautiful."

"I will."

He would, for Edgar just as much as it would be for Rachel and their child.

"I know you will."

Just like he knows Elliot will be a wonderful husband and father. Just like he knows this is going to actually stick.

"But don't think that means you won't get reminders."

"Please."

Reminders don't hurt, after all. Reminders keep him from forgetting what's important-- keep him from trying to take off running.

"Cross my heart."

Even though it's a distant murmur. Even though any second now, Elliot's going to blink his eyes and be pulled into wakefulness.

This promise is being kept until the day they're all together again.

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fatherallthechange - 2014-09-28 14:25 (UTC) - Expand

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