Scarves Chapter 6

I don't realize I'd fallen asleep until I wake up from nothing. I'm lying down on something, staring into what must be the underside of a building or bridge, the smoothness and cool of it telling me it's a slab of stone. I use my elbows as leverage and push myself up, then use the palms of my hands to keep me there. Everything around me-beams, boulders, wood-is covered in a light veil of darkness, only broken by the light of the nearby fire. There's someone sitting in front of it, poking it with a stick, and I don't have a single doubt that it's Fintan. Suddenly I become aware of a dry, stickiness on my cheeks. I raise my fingers to the skin and recognize the feeling immediatley. They're dried tears.

Shit...

That's right. I did cry. For the first time in years I cried in front of someone; someone who doesn't deserve all that I've put him through.

I stand up and walk off of my "bed," which takes less effort than I thought it would, and start to make my way over to the fire, using my sleeve to wipe of the remnants of my emotional breakdown. Surprisingly nothing hurts, just tired, which I give credit to Fintan's powers. Those powers that I did not know existed and am very curious about. But now's not the time for that. Definitely not. It doesn't take me long to reach my goal and I stand there, looking down, feeling like I shouldn't sit and should run instead because I'm nothing but trouble.

"You're awake," he says without turning around, continuing to poke the fire.

"Yeah." I pause, feeling awkward for the first time since I'd met him. "I-how long was I out?"

"Three days."

What?!"

"Three days?!"

"Yeah."

"Have we been here the entire time or..."

"No." He pauses, throwing the stick in the fire and picking up a new one. "Different hideout for a each day."

Which means he carried me from place to place, for three days, while I stayed uselessly unconscious.

"Where are the others?"

"Heading to the rendevouz point with the Mole. It'll take a few days, but we'll meet them there."

"Are they okay?"

The question barely makes its way out. I'm honestly afraid of the answer. And Fintan seems to not have a good one by the way the corners of his lips turns down slightly further and the long silence that hangs in the air between us.

"They're alive."

Alive. Not terrible. Not okay. No details. Just alive. That's good-they're still breathing and he has a chance to see them again. But it's also bad. They could be in emotional turmoil, harshly wounded, barely alive.

All because of me.

That is a fact and will remain a fact for the rest of eternity, and it should be enough to make me leave; its been enough before. But something is keeping me here. Is it friendship? Family? Want? Feeling belonged? I have no damn idea.

"I should go." The thought slips out to wonder aloud, not really speaking to him, but not ignoring him either. He doesn't respond right away, the only sound in the air being the crackling of the flames and the occasional piece of plaster falling from the ceiling to the ground.

"You can go if you want," he finally says, tossing the new stick into the fire. "I can't stop you. But I want you to know-" He turns to me for the first time since I woke, tilting his head to stare into my face. " -this isn't your fault."

Of course it's my fault. Don't lie...

"I'm not lying."

How'd he-?

"It would have happened eventually whether you were with us or not. And I knew that when I brought you home."

My words seem to have disappeared somewhere.

"And if it means anything to you...I don't want you to leave."

For the first time since I met him, I see him show a moment of weakness. I barely catch it in the light, but it's there; his eyes sadden, his body shakes, and the frown on his lips grows so deep it breaks my heart. All thoughts of leaving him behind disappear from my mind before I even realize it and the emotions he let leak through are gone in the blink of an eye. Some voice in the back of my mind shouts at me: How could you have ever thought that?! He has no one else right now! He'd be alone! and my gut tells me he hasn't been alone in a very long time. I want to punch the beams to relieve my anger; I want kick the stones relieve the pain; I want to hold him to be a comfort, and I want everything to go back to that peaceful week the Family spent together like nothing was wrong in the world at all. But none of those things would help except for the last one which is impossible. So instead, I speak.

"Then I'll stay with you."

Without saying anything he takes my wrist and tugs me down to sit on the cold floor right beside him, so close that he can ease my head down with his hand so that my cheek touches his shoulder and his can rest his own on top of my hair. I expected my cheeks to warm as soon as he touched my wrist but nothing like that happened. Instead I feel safe and comforted by his cool body temperature and feel like the gesture is more of a friendly nature than a romantic one.

"Thank you."

This all feels familiar in a distant sort of way, like every interaction between us, like we've know each other for years and years, but both know no such thing happened. Or at least...I don't.

"Why are you so nice to me? And why do I feel like I know you?" I whisper aloud. (on accident of course)

"I'll tell you later," he whispers back.

I let it go at that and we just sit there, troubles too close to forget but far away enough that we can rest and push away the thoughts of what will come tomorrow.