"Grief is not a lesson one can learn, master, and put behind oneself," Stephen said, at last, awkwardly. "I was married before ever I came here, you know? to a very fine woman, and we had a daughter together. She died untimely, Diana did. When I found that the dead sometimes turned up here, alive ..." The sentence trailed off. "Well, River would have killed her again, more like than not, and God only knows what I would have done then." Shaking off the tangent: "What I mean to say is that I have suffered this before; and yet it is no easier than it was before; and I am not likely to be civil company any time soon, my dear."
While Sarah had known about his daughter from the drunken radio broadcast of Stephen and Ryuuji's, the rest she had not. Her anxious expression softened a bit - even as she was reeling and in prime state for a bug-eyed look - and she covered the rest of the steps between them, still out of his immediate personal space but now at least in front of him. That he had even attempted to explain, even though the explanation was shocking, meant more than she could have expressed. She wanted to reach for him, to offer no more than a touch of support, but she resisted and let the fact she was obstinately here still speak her support instead.
"I would have never dreamed of thinking this would be easier than that, or that it would be easy ever," she said, her voice still soft. "I just want to be here for you for awhile, so I don't care if the company is civil or not."
Stephen looked into Sarah's face, reading the concern and love there. She has no notion of what this is like; she senses only pain and wants to soothe it somehow. Even though I have told her I am likelier to hurt her than to be helped ... "You are very brave," he said, taking one of her hands in his and bringing it to his lips. "If that is what you want, I will allow it."
At that moment, Sarah felt ridiculous for the worry she had allowed to fester, even though she truly had not seen a way to predict the outcome. She would learn, just as she always did, from this experience, even if some lessons were harder learned than others. "Not brave, just persistently annoying," she said as she watched him bring her hand up. Her eyes closed for a brief second at the touch, amazed that he could still manage the touch and the compliment at a time like this, before they opened again to reveal her relief he had agreed.
"Thank you, Stephen," she said and squeezed his hand gently, hoping those three words spoke another three so strongly felt. No matter how terrible it could be, and already was for him, that would never change.
"Have you any demands, dear heart? Should I call for toast?" There was no edge to the words; it might almost have been teasing, if he were not so drained.
Sarah gave him a surprised look - both about the fact that been the very thing she had first wanted to fuss about and that he was giving her an opening to do it - and then nodded, not passing up the chance to possibly get him to eat. "Yes, please, toast... with better jam this time," she said as smiled just slightly.
"Very well." He called the house-elf and gave strict instructions as to which sorts of jam were and were not expected. "He wants to know if you like the kind with raspberries," Stephen said to Sarah, in answer to a hiss from the house-elf.
Sarah listened silently as Stephen spoke to the house-elf, using the time he was occupied to observe him more closely. It was painful to see him like this and know it would not be a look that would go away for a long time, which made her all the more eager to want to do anything she could. Toast was definitely a good start, though she did wonder how to get the rest of the food groups in him.
"Raspberries are just fine," she said, offering the house-elf a smile. Poor thing, it was so overworked between letter-bearing and toast-fetching. At least she could cross fruit off the list.
Stephen sent the house-elf on its way. He turned to a sort of bulky collection of something under a large dusty white sheet; this, when he removed the sheet, proved to be a smallish table and two chairs. He pulled one chair out for Sarah. "See, this place has not been much used of late," he apologised. Indeed the only furniture that seemed to have been used lately at all was the bed -- rumpled yet made, as though someone had been sleeping atop the covers -- and an armoire whose doors hung open, revealing an almost empty interior.
While Sarah had known about his daughter from the drunken radio broadcast of Stephen and Ryuuji's, the rest she had not. Her anxious expression softened a bit - even as she was reeling and in prime state for a bug-eyed look - and she covered the rest of the steps between them, still out of his immediate personal space but now at least in front of him. That he had even attempted to explain, even though the explanation was shocking, meant more than she could have expressed. She wanted to reach for him, to offer no more than a touch of support, but she resisted and let the fact she was obstinately here still speak her support instead.
"I would have never dreamed of thinking this would be easier than that, or that it would be easy ever," she said, her voice still soft. "I just want to be here for you for awhile, so I don't care if the company is civil or not."
Stephen looked into Sarah's face, reading the concern and love there. She has no notion of what this is like; she senses only pain and wants to soothe it somehow. Even though I have told her I am likelier to hurt her than to be helped ... "You are very brave," he said, taking one of her hands in his and bringing it to his lips. "If that is what you want, I will allow it."
At that moment, Sarah felt ridiculous for the worry she had allowed to fester, even though she truly had not seen a way to predict the outcome. She would learn, just as she always did, from this experience, even if some lessons were harder learned than others. "Not brave, just persistently annoying," she said as she watched him bring her hand up. Her eyes closed for a brief second at the touch, amazed that he could still manage the touch and the compliment at a time like this, before they opened again to reveal her relief he had agreed.
"Thank you, Stephen," she said and squeezed his hand gently, hoping those three words spoke another three so strongly felt. No matter how terrible it could be, and already was for him, that would never change.
Reply
Sarah gave him a surprised look - both about the fact that been the very thing she had first wanted to fuss about and that he was giving her an opening to do it - and then nodded, not passing up the chance to possibly get him to eat. "Yes, please, toast... with better jam this time," she said as smiled just slightly.
"Very well." He called the house-elf and gave strict instructions as to which sorts of jam were and were not expected. "He wants to know if you like the kind with raspberries," Stephen said to Sarah, in answer to a hiss from the house-elf.
Sarah listened silently as Stephen spoke to the house-elf, using the time he was occupied to observe him more closely. It was painful to see him like this and know it would not be a look that would go away for a long time, which made her all the more eager to want to do anything she could. Toast was definitely a good start, though she did wonder how to get the rest of the food groups in him.
"Raspberries are just fine," she said, offering the house-elf a smile. Poor thing, it was so overworked between letter-bearing and toast-fetching. At least she could cross fruit off the list.
Stephen sent the house-elf on its way. He turned to a sort of bulky collection of something under a large dusty white sheet; this, when he removed the sheet, proved to be a smallish table and two chairs. He pulled one chair out for Sarah. "See, this place has not been much used of late," he apologised. Indeed the only furniture that seemed to have been used lately at all was the bed -- rumpled yet made, as though someone had been sleeping atop the covers -- and an armoire whose doors hung open, revealing an almost empty interior.
Reply
Leave a comment