2/27 - Goodbye is the hardest thing to say
She glanced over to him as she neared the reservation, biting her lip, her fingers gently resting on his knee. She held back her words, the ones that she wanted to say. She'd said it all before, and his response had been the same.
"Brandon...do you have to go?"
"Yes, dearest, I do. You know I do."
"Let me come with you. I can help. You KNOW that I can help."
"No."
"Why not?"
"This is my duty, not yours..."
It frustrated her knowing that once again...she would be left at home. The woman, waiting for her warrior to return. Never knowing if he was dead or alive. This entire situation made her stomach churn, made her skin boil. She understood that he could not tell her...and she knew that even if he could, she probably wouldn't want to know. She would try to stop him. She knew that he was frightened, she could sense it in him...whatever he was going to do, was something he did not think he would return from.
"Shall we drink tonight, my love?"
"Yes...I would like that, Brandon..."
"Then tonight we drink for tomorrow I...no..."
"Tomorrow you...what, love?"
Murmured words, not wanting to bring them to being, "Tonight we drink, for tomorrow...I may die..."
She shook her head, her eyes fierce, "You will not die, my heart. You WILL not."
"You know…you are the best thing that has ever happened to me…"
He had taken her then, striving to show her how much he cared, how much he loved her. She turned her head to look at him again as she passed a sign, 10 miles to their destination. She tried to blink back tears as she watched him looking out the window, his fingers tightening over hers. All she could do was send silent prayers, 'Watch over my love…bring my Warrior home to me…'
They pulled to a stop near the familiar cabin. A deep sense of foreboding filled her body as she looked around. The last time she had been here, she had seen Maetremo broken and dying on the floor of his home…signs of his struggle with Harroth spread around him. The thought of the Balor that had haunted her nightmares made her look to the one that filled her happiest dreams. The thoughts, the doubt tried to squeeze into her mind, 'And if he is like him…' and she quickly stomped it out.
She slid from the drivers seat, slowly walking around the van to help Brandon unload his things. There was nothing that she could say to him…nothing that had not already been said. He avoided her eyes as he piled his bags and finally, his axe on the ground. Finally, he turned to her, gently taking her in his arms. She looked up into his eye and smiled softly, holding back her tears. She saw his fear, his determination…and she would not further burden him with her own emotions.
Brandon pulled her hard against his body, gracing her lips with a deep and passionate kiss. Her hands moved to cup the back of his neck and after a moment, she broke away from him, gazing deep into his eye and murmuring softly in their language.
"I love you, Brandon."
He smiled softly, a large calloused hand gently stroking her cheek, "And I love you, Rowena."
Looking down she reached into her pocket, drawing forth a small medallion. The medallion she'd carried since she was 12 years old…the last birthday gift from her parents. She held it in her hand for a moment before looking into his eye, pressing the heavy metal likeness of Brigit into his hand, murmuring to him, "She will bring you home to me. And…if you…if you can't come home…she will allow me to see you, one last time." She smiled softly and leaned forward once again to kiss him gently.
He looked at her, seriousness and love in his eyes, taking the medallion and carefully slipping the leather thong over his head. One last, soft kiss, and he turned quickly…needing to get away from her while he still could.
She watched him for a moment as he entered the cabin, her heart and soul filled with worry and dread. Once again…she was a warriors woman. She would wait for him…until he returned to her. Dead or alive.
It took every bit of her will to turn back to her van, stepping into the drivers seat and turning back towards Denver. He had asked her to go to the Manse, to Sin. He'd told her it was because of Max…but she feared that it was because he knew he would not return, and that he didn't want her to be alone when she was given the news.
She allowed the music to wash over her, trying to drown out her pain…her fear. She pulled into the drive of the Manse, climbing out, chewing her lower lip. She could only hope that Sin would not tell her to leave…would let her stay, just for a few days. Just until she knew. Pain shot through her chest from her still healing wounds and she sought out her old friend, trying not to let her fear show through.
And she sat, and she waited for her Warrior to return. Surrounded by yarn as she tried to learn to knit, her eyes always cast towards the drive of the Manse. She did not sleep…she ate only when necessary.
She had promised him she would wait...and she would wait until he returned to her, one way or the other.