" 'To err is human'." Stephen knew Sarah meant her remarks as comfort and not as empty platitudes; still, the snippet of quotation he gave as answer sounded hollow, an unfit rejoinder to her earnest and inexpert attempts at consolation. If there was any disgust in it, it was all for himself, and not for her. It was of course just as pointlessly self-indulgent to speculate on easier paths not taken as it was to wish one exchanged for another. "How do you stand this?" How can you stand me?
...to forgive, divine. Sarah mouthed the words against his forehead and then pulled back to look at him. She knew he would not forgive himself easily for this thought or any of the other things he blamed himself for, but she would be here for him no matter what he did himself. She felt helpless, to a great extent, as she did want to ease this for him but she knew she could not truly - it was grief, there was no quick and permanent fix for it
( ... )
There were matters they did not talk about. This was one of them, and the most significant. Wine loosened the tongue, things said could not be unsaid, he would need to explain or else watch her worry about the many possibilities that might have been meant. And he would have to take great care not to misspeak. He was not at all sure he could manage this
( ... )
"You aren't an idiot," Sarah said fiercely though her tone was soft, tightening her fingers on his with a look just as fierce. He had told her he did not think of her while with River - yet another thing she had long ago accepted and really would have not have wanted changed. Just as she had his full attention when he was with her in those times, she wanted him to be the same with River. In a way, perhaps it was a desire to ease some small fraction of her guilt rather than anything good in herself desiring a balance for fairness' sake. None of it could have ever been fair
( ... )
"Things happen to everyone when they drink, not just us," Sarah said, looking at him seriously. "Even if the alcohol that time on vacation did do more to us by letting the memor..." She trailed off and then frowned. Unlike earlier, when it might have occurred to her, she had been happily distracted by their lovemaking and too inebriated to notice or care. Or at least notice consciously, as she had mimicked actions this time that she once used to confirm she was herself and he was himself. Now sobering as the alcohol metabolized, pieces of things were clicking into place
( ... )
Uncertain, he tried to engage with the concept. The spatial categories she invoked -- top, bottom, layers -- would not fall into place for him. "Not buried, not for me, more fluid than that." He groped for an apt metaphor. An iceberg? Stephen had personal experience of icebergs.
His thoughts looped back on themselves, to the alcohol and the Dreamless Sleep Potion and the things to which he wished he could resort. "It is like a potion, and sometimes it separates out, and sometimes it is all mingled together, and some things are more soluble than others." That made less sense than it should, now that he had said it aloud. He hoped she understood what he meant. She so often did, in spite of everything.
"Those people, they were happy together. There was nothing to cloud it, no bereavement, no betrayal, only joy. Is it any wonder we allow them to resurface?"
It made sense to Sarah, even if what he described was different for him than for her. In fact, it was far more apt description by far, because her layering description left much to be desired in terms of the bits of the memory person and herself that had always been alike or were turning out to be alike. There were still ways for the memories to merge with her, so she could never say for certain that everything she learned - confidence, boldness, etc. - was just 'growing up' and she would have reached it all without the memories or that it was the memory merging itself with her to change her in ways she never would have on her own... though it was more likely it was a bit of both in some cases
( ... )
Stephen shrugged. "We allowed it tonight. Would you choose to disallow it, in future? We have given up our sleeping draughts. Should we give up wine as well? We would need to find another protection against evil clowns." And then there would be no forgetting. Did she know how much he wanted to forget?
Sarah sighed softly and moved close, reaching up to push his hand away to place her fingers on his forehead, any earlier frustration and anger now gone as she rubbed gently. She kissed his forehead as well as she rubbed, two actions as natural now as they had been the first time she had ever done them.
"It's over Stephen, in the past," she said quietly, still rubbing. "Again, I was just upset and I didn't mean to say it. I just don't want to go back to those times, ever again."
"Nor do I. Yet for us, some things will never be safely in the past, you know. We realise that now if we did not before." He sighed and raised a hand to stop her rubbing his forehead. "That is very kind of you, sweetheart, but I think I need to take something for this, some willow-bark at the least." He scooted off the bed and padded across the room to the apothecary cabinet, completely forgetting the sheet that had been loosely draped around him, which fell uselessly back to the bed as he rose.
Sarah sighed again, not entirely certain what 'some things' meant in this mess of drunken contradictions and guilt and blame. She did not even have the heart to ask because she just knew it would encourage more of the same and she really did want him to have less to change his mind on again in the morning when he was thinking clearly. It was better to let it rest.
She rested her head on her knees as he got off the bed, too tired and upset to take advantage of his shamelessness but not too tired to admire the view. When he reached the cabinet, she watched him carefully... he had said 'at the least' and for a moment, she was almost afraid he would change his mind when he got there and choose something else. She knew if he did choose something else like the laudanum, she was not going to sit idly by anymore and watch him do it.
Sarah would not have been wrong to wonder whether Stephen had been tempted to something stronger. All the same, it was the vial of powdered willow-bark he brought back to the bed with him, to take with water from the pitcher they kept on the bedside table. He thought that simple painkiller would suffice for the headache, and did not need a stronger potion. He would have wanted the laudanum for an entirely different reason.
He sat on the edge of the bed and took his willow bark remedy. Behind him sat Sarah, curled onto herself, and he did not know how to comfort her, or even if it were possible to comfort her. So he remained where he was, half-empty glass of water in his hand, saying nothing.
Sarah rested her lips against his head, a soft smile touching her features at his muffled words. It was with those words that she lay awake feeling just a bit less upset, though no less tired, than she had a moment ago. Despite her desire to remain completely awake until she was certain he was asleep, fatigue soon overcame and she drifted off, her arms still tight around him. Perhaps the morning would bring a bit of clarity to the confusion.
Not sleeping as well as she might have on another night, Sarah still did sleep until morning. She did not move very far when she finally stirred, a smile already on her face as she tightened arms relaxed in sleep around Stephen. Eyes still closed, as she did not need sight to direct her, she turned her head and planted a light kiss on the side of his face.
Stephen had lain awake for some time, listening to Sarah's breathing deepen and slow with the onset of sleep. It was a typical sleeping pattern for him, with or without laudanum: to remain awake well into the wee hours, then to sleep well into the morning. Now he slept, moving only slightly when Sarah moved, mostly unresponsive.
Opening her eyes a bit, Sarah yawned and let go of him to grope about for her wand. Her hand eventually connected with it and she pulled it from under her pillow to dimly light the closest lamp with a whispered incantation, enough to shed a faint light on them. She looked at Stephen as she laid the wand at her side, unsurprised to find him still sleeping. It was not something she minded in the least, as she could indulge in watching him without distraction. She pulled her head back a bit on the pillow and just gazed him silently. After a time, she gave in to the temptation to stroke his cheek lightly with two fingers
( ... )
The dim lamplight hardly disturbed Stephen, who when sufficiently exhausted could sleep through anything short of cannon fire. When he finally opened a bleary eye, it was because he had come to the natural end of a sleep cycle, tainted by an unpleasant dream. Seeing Sarah, however blurred, came as a relief, and he smiled wanly. "Morning. Coffee?" He needed his caffeine fix.
"Drink more?" Sarah said skeptically, giving him a baffled look. "Why in God's name would we drink more? I think last night..." She trailed off and shook her head slightly. Last night was an example that did not need to be spelled out. "That option seems like a bad idea to me. Maybe the potion then."
"Drinking more would help us forget last night," Stephen said dryly. "The potion it is." Back to the apothecary cabinet, and back again to the bed. He poured two doses into spare teacups. The mixture appeared and smelled wholly unappealing. Just like the medicines Stephen had made in his career as a Muggle physician, his potions generally had something trivial and noxious added, due to his conviction that patients believed stronger-tasting medicines to be more potent.
"Depends on which parts you'd like to forget," Sarah muttered as he got off the bed. She settled back against the pillows grumpily because while the one lamp did provide some light, it was not nearly enough to enjoy his entire round trip from the bed to the cabinet and back. She did enjoy what of it she could, only distracted when she took the cup from him.
"It's some kind of joke that the alcohol tasted good and this smells godawful," she groused, peering into the cup. "Cosmic punishment for alcohol consumption. Ugh!" Swallowing it had not been any more pleasant and she sat there with the empty cup looking rather like a sullen child made to take awful medicine, except that her 'illness' could only be blamed on herself... and people who made her anxious... and evil clowns.
Her mention of punishment reminded him uneasily of things she had said the night before. Purposely he let it pass. "Think of it as encouraging proper dental hygiene. You'll not want that taste in your mouth longer than strictly necessary." Seeing her sullen face, he took pity. "Poor dear, and even coffee tastes too strong to you. Off to the toothbrushes then, is it?" He held out a hand to help her off the bed.
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His thoughts looped back on themselves, to the alcohol and the Dreamless Sleep Potion and the things to which he wished he could resort. "It is like a potion, and sometimes it separates out, and sometimes it is all mingled together, and some things are more soluble than others." That made less sense than it should, now that he had said it aloud. He hoped she understood what he meant. She so often did, in spite of everything.
"Those people, they were happy together. There was nothing to cloud it, no bereavement, no betrayal, only joy. Is it any wonder we allow them to resurface?"
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"It's over Stephen, in the past," she said quietly, still rubbing. "Again, I was just upset and I didn't mean to say it. I just don't want to go back to those times, ever again."
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She rested her head on her knees as he got off the bed, too tired and upset to take advantage of his shamelessness but not too tired to admire the view. When he reached the cabinet, she watched him carefully... he had said 'at the least' and for a moment, she was almost afraid he would change his mind when he got there and choose something else. She knew if he did choose something else like the laudanum, she was not going to sit idly by anymore and watch him do it.
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He sat on the edge of the bed and took his willow bark remedy. Behind him sat Sarah, curled onto herself, and he did not know how to comfort her, or even if it were possible to comfort her. So he remained where he was, half-empty glass of water in his hand, saying nothing.
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Not sleeping as well as she might have on another night, Sarah still did sleep until morning. She did not move very far when she finally stirred, a smile already on her face as she tightened arms relaxed in sleep around Stephen. Eyes still closed, as she did not need sight to direct her, she turned her head and planted a light kiss on the side of his face.
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"It's some kind of joke that the alcohol tasted good and this smells godawful," she groused, peering into the cup. "Cosmic punishment for alcohol consumption. Ugh!" Swallowing it had not been any more pleasant and she sat there with the empty cup looking rather like a sullen child made to take awful medicine, except that her 'illness' could only be blamed on herself... and people who made her anxious... and evil clowns.
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