Edgar D Eicheln (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofthelions) wrote2014-09-23 05:25 pm
ofthelions) wrote2014-09-23 05:25 pm
Entry tags:
[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.
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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"And we're-- right for each other, now."
So much better for one another than the first time their lips had met.
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"You are. It's-- It's really beautiful, Elliot."
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And there's even more of an easing into the quiet joy, now.
"We're both-- really going to be happy, now."
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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."
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"Never-- thought we'd get there. We're-- really lucky."
And, honestly, they'd worked really hard.
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"You are. A little. You're-- you're really working hard. It's amazing. I hope you have-- some idea, at least."
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Which is a lot better than he ever could've said, before.
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"Keep thinking it. It's beautiful."
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He would, for Edgar just as much as it would be for Rachel and their child.
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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."
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Reminders don't hurt, after all. Reminders keep him from forgetting what's important-- keep him from trying to take off running.
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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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He has a feeling it's going to be so much more true, now.
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There's just a soft, warm laugh lingering in the air and hopefully just a bit of it echoing beyond the night in Elliot's heart.