the_fairest | 1.06, The Shepherd

When he finally realizes what time it must be, he's already running, making his way to the toll bridge and praying that he hasn't missed her - or, worse yet, that she never appeared to begin with.

He's breathless when he arrives, catching sight of her, and the only words that slip out are one of surprise more than relief.

"You came."

She turned the ring on her finger back and forth, so quickly, almost matching her heartbeat, as she looked up at the sky. The whole great blanket of blackness and all those bright darts of light, like for one moment, this moment, they might be shining just for her. The running footsteps had her turn, the smile she hadn't been able to stop widening, as she looked down blushing almost instantly.

With a wavered gesture to her clothes and just being there, after saying no, and sending him away so many times. "You sound surprised."

When she looked up, he still hadn't come any closer than where he'd stopped. At the edge of the trees, before the rocks. There was no pride, no triumph in his tone. Her heart gave its first uncertain waffle. "In fact, you almost sound a bit disappointed?"

Edited 2012-06-02 21:15 (UTC)

He looks at her, standing there so hopeful in the bright pink of her cardigan, but there's no doubt in his mind now what he needs to do. What he has to do. She calls him out on his heart, on his not really feeling in it now that they're here, but he has to do what is right.

"I remember," he says, no lack of certainty in his voice or in his face as he looks down at her, slowly beginning to catch his breath.

The whole world freezes faster than seems possible.

Her heart. Her lungs. Her thoughts. Her throat.

He - He could only mean - He hadn't been able -

It takes so much effort to expel a single word. "Kathryn?"

He nods, a barely visible jerk of the head before he makes his way down on the wet stones toward her, hands braced into fists at his sides.

"Everything," he says, his answer just as singular, his expression just as conflicted.

She tried to collect her thoughts, make sense of anything. Her smile faded more with each step he took toward her now. The terrible weight in his eyes as she opened her mouth twice through words that wouldn't form past the prickle in her eyes. The silence stretching between them.

Against the sensation of the ground and her stomach leaving her entirely, she finished with the obvious. With what his memory must have brought back to him. A statement that was still more question, almost a desperate want to be wrong, pain slowly spider-webbing cracks through her chest.

"And you love her."

"I don't know," he breathes, and for as much as he's come to learn for certain in this world - things that others have told him that he still continues to doubt, the one thing he's still positive of is his uncertainty in this, above all else.

"But I know I did. I remember how I felt, and - I think I have to honor that," he says, looking off into the distance almost as though he's reciting something at first before his gaze redirects to her face and he nods, slowly.

It's this odd, solemn combination. His tone. Like he's trying to explain, trying to figure it out, almost helplessly, almost like he's asking for her understand, for her help. Except she doesn't want to be understand.

Not yet. Not now. Not when her heart feels like it's fit to suffocate with each new word. Because they're only talking about her. About them. And all of this, she tried to push it out as fast as possible, in one breath, not looking at him or at anything specifically. "And everything that you said to me--"

"Is true," he insists, because that's one thing that isn't going to change, no matter the obligations he has to fulfill, or the duties he has to perform for Kathryn as a husband.

"I do have feelings for you - intense feelings, feelings I don't quite understand." The confession comes with a hapless chuckle as he stands there, listening to the sounds of the water rushing under the bridge and their breaths, soft and sharp in the night air.

It's so much worse. That he doesn't say this was all an accident. That he wasn't confused. That it isn't just as suddenly gone as the memories are, and other feelings, are suddenly there. There's only one way this conversation could be headed now.

Regardless of what he had said so many times.
Regardless of the near desperate admission.
The only thing to make it ever worse.

"And you're going back to her."

How desperate her want to be wrong was.
She'd given in. Said yes. Gone beyond hoping.

Edited 2012-06-07 22:06 (UTC)

"It's the right thing to do," he whispers, and more than anything, he wishes it wasn't so, but he has that he needs to uphold, and something about it feels important. For as many things as he still continues to question about himself, he needs to be the kind of man who would honor the commitment of marriage. He needs to have that much.

He looks at her, unmoving, his hands resting at his sides despite the overwhelming urge to reach out to her now, to draw her close. To comfort her in this, even if he's the cause.

She looked away as the words hit like a shot. Her eyes going from stinging to a flush she could feel of the tears building now. The right thing for him. The right thing for Kathryn.

Why he couldn't choose this yesterday. The day before. This morning. A week ago. Every single time she'd reminded him of his wife. Before some magic wand finally waved, after she'd given to his pursuit, and then he listened. Once he had her. Once he didn't want her.

"The right thing to do--" She nodded as she crossed her arms, her lip wobbling and voice starting to clog and crack, even as tried to keep it firm. Her tone a hurt that refused to even become anger for her no matter how hard she tried for it. "--was not to lead me on."

Edited 2012-06-09 12:56 (UTC)

He looks down at the ground, unable to meet her gaze for a long moment, the truth of her words stinging in his ears and in his chest. It's not a question of whether he wants to hear the words, but whether he needs to hear them, and the pang of guilt that rockets through him is unmistakable for what it really is - even if he never harbored that feeling around Kathryn when he'd considered doing something different at the bridge tonight.

He'd never once felt that he was doing something wrong with Mary Margaret, but he now sees the duty that he has to uphold, the commitment that he needs to honor.

"I know," he says, his voice soft.

It doesn't make it better. Whatever her words were supposed to do, supposed to mean or make him feel or see, it doesn't make it better. All she could with his acknowledgement to her, to what he'd done, was nod, fingers holding her elbows tighter, the sensation in her throat only tightening even more at his agreed.

She swallowed, wishing she could be anywhere else, as her vision of him blurred more. "So, you made your choice."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, taking a step towards her and reaching out to her at the sight of her eyes blurring over, the way her voice catches when she speaks.

But the ground is wet and the rocks yield under his feet, and his legs are still shaky from the coma - that's what he'd believe, though he suspects it might be something closely linked to the pain he feels when he looks at her.

She rocked back a half step, raising her hands somewhere between waving him off and warding him off, as though one touch wouldn't cause the last shreds of her dignity to crumble entirely. "That's okay."

Except it wasn't. Any more than the smile she'd tried to give was real.
His remorse was real. The threatening impend of her dissolve was real.

This all ending, sooner rather than later, in every way, was real.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be," all tumbled out of her mouth, foolish and fleeting, as she turned, pulling the sides of her cardigan tighter over her chest, and walked away quickly over the wet rocks, giving up any charade that she could stand there with him now.

1.06, The Shepherd

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