[ John Gaius pulls himself from the water on hands and knees, clumsy with rebirth and coughing up brine. For the second time in existence, he does not do it alone.
He keeps touching her, as they come out of the surf: his fingers brush fretfully at her palms, her wrists, her shoulder. He touches her like he's afraid she'll go away if he doesn't keep contact, like he's as much searching for a tether as shepherding her along. There is a wound through his chest that a blade might've made, but it closes by the time he draws breath.
Is this morning, she says, and he rattles out a wet and ragged laugh. Fuck: it had been. He remembers it all, now, and it had been. He can still taste iron through his heart and the look in her eyes. He'd been so close to it all just being done.
The sky above them is clouded over, blanketing half-familiar stars. He can't see them from here, but still he closes his eyes as though hurt by the light. ]
No. [ His voice is soft with unguarded despair. ] No, this is some bullshit with squid.
[ He runs salt-slick hands over his face. He scrubs fingers back through his hair just to remember the shape of fingers and of hair. He touches her elbow, her arm. He could laugh or cry with little difference between the two. ]
0. spoilers for Nona the Ninth
He keeps touching her, as they come out of the surf: his fingers brush fretfully at her palms, her wrists, her shoulder. He touches her like he's afraid she'll go away if he doesn't keep contact, like he's as much searching for a tether as shepherding her along. There is a wound through his chest that a blade might've made, but it closes by the time he draws breath.
Is this morning, she says, and he rattles out a wet and ragged laugh. Fuck: it had been. He remembers it all, now, and it had been. He can still taste iron through his heart and the look in her eyes. He'd been so close to it all just being done.
The sky above them is clouded over, blanketing half-familiar stars. He can't see them from here, but still he closes his eyes as though hurt by the light. ]
No. [ His voice is soft with unguarded despair. ] No, this is some bullshit with squid.
[ He runs salt-slick hands over his face. He scrubs fingers back through his hair just to remember the shape of fingers and of hair. He touches her elbow, her arm. He could laugh or cry with little difference between the two. ]
Annabel.