Chapter Text
With Griselda standing guard somewhere else – probably busy keeping the fort up so that Faragonda could concentrate on matters taking place at but not relating to Alfea – Griffin could slip into Faragonda’s office with no grander an announcement than a gentle knock on the door.
Faragonda was standing by the window and turned around swiftly. “Griffin!”
Griffin frowned at the slight shock in Faragonda’s voice. “Hey. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, no”, Faragonda rushed to assure. “I just wasn’t expecting you.”
She hadn’t expected anyone, Griffin surmised. Alfea did feel abnormally quiet, even if it was getting late. “Did Saladin leave for Red Fountain already? I passed him in the hall earlier, and he mentioned something about getting back to work.”
Faragonda nodded. “He did. Apparently, there was an incident with the dragons, and it required Codatorta’s full attention, so Saladin needed to go take charge of everything else.”
Griffin parroted the nod. “I see.”
“Have you checked in with Ediltrude lately?”
“The last I heard the school was still standing”, Griffin grinned. “Though I wonder if she’d own up to it if that weren’t the case. I’d probably have to wait for Zara to rat her out to learn about it.”
Faragonda chuckled even when her eyes widened a little. Although Griffin had complained about the twins to Faragonda surely more than enough over the years, she didn’t expect Faragonda to be accustomed to the stunts they pulled; Griselda was pretty much a polar opposite of Griffin’s disaster of a second-in-command and her other half.
“You’re leaving for Cloud Tower for the night again, I assume”, Faragonda said, a slight change of pitch at the end of her sentence. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
Griffin bit her lip. The question was innocent, but the carefulness of Faragonda’s body language and the hopefulness in her gaze gave away that she knew there was weight to it as well.
“If I can”, Griffin answered, purposefully vague enough to leave herself room to decide. She’d learned her company wasn’t unpleasant for Marion at least – and by extension, most likely not for Oritel either, at least not if Marion had had a chance to talk to him. But Griffin hardly felt her presence was essential. Marion and Oritel had several lives to catch up with and their own to get back to. They had urgent duties to attend to, both personal and royal, and Griffin didn’t want to take up time from things and people that needed to come first. Frankly, she needed some time to herself, too, to get used to the idea of suddenly having her friends back.
“Good.” Faragonda didn’t seem fully satisfied, but at least the promise had made her smile. “Marion was looking for you yesterday.”
“Oh”, Griffin said, “Well, she found me.”
“You talked?” Faragonda asked with the enthusiasm of a fairy overly invested in the interpersonal relationships of people she held dear. Had Griffin not been ambushed by Marion already, she might have found it annoying. Now, however, she happily ignored it, glad she didn’t need to react to Faragonda’s veiled suggestions.
“This morning. I walked her to the library”, Griffin elaborated, realizing she didn’t know what for, whereas Faragonda’s eager expression made it clear she did.
Griffin didn’t need to ask in words as a mere raised eyebrow had Faragonda clarify, “Bloom had agreed to meet Marion and Oritel there this afternoon.”
Griffin tried to hide her surprise. She had been astounded that Marion had sought her out; she had thought the woman would’ve wanted to spend time with Oritel or at least Faragonda rather than her. Griffin hadn’t seen Oritel since they’d left Faragonda’s office the day before, so not only had Marion taken time away from her husband to spend with Griffin, but the woman had also spent the morning before meeting her daughter by absolving Griffin from the sins of the man responsible for the predicament.
“How do you know?”
Faragonda held out on her answer in favor of taking a breath, her eyes keen on Griffin’s face. “I spoke with Marion last night and with the Winx this morning.”
“Aha”, Griffin said, wondering what had caused the pang of hurt when Faragonda had followed both her expectations and wishes by talking with Marion in private. Faragonda, if anyone, deserved the opportunity to share her regrets and fears. She wouldn’t have asked Marion to listen, but Griffin wouldn’t have needed to be reminded of how insistent Marion was on helping the people she cared for, to know that Marion would have pried the truth out of Faragonda one way or the other. And hopefully, free from the weight of the past, Faragonda would then have turned the tables on Marion and supported her in ways Griffin couldn’t because of her own problems.
“Are your students all right?” Griffin asked, focusing on the latter part of Faragonda’s sentence to keep the conversation in smooth waters.
“Yes”, Faragonda said warmly, “A little shaken and tired, as one would expect after getting exposed to Obsidian’s levels of dark magic. But otherwise, they’re fine.”
“That’s good”, Griffin replied. “They deserve a chance to rest and recover. The negative energy in Obsidian is substantial.”
Griffin paused to think whether she should’ve taken notice of how affected Marion had been. She’d noticed the unfamiliar aura lingering on the fairy, but given everything Marion had been through, it would’ve been perfectly conceivable if the negativity had stemmed from inside her. Griffin made a mental note to ask Faragonda to keep an eye on Marion, though, just in case. The fact that Marion hadn’t been in Obsidian in her physical form had probably helped ward off most of the ramifications, but Obsidian was a dangerous place for a fairy, especially for one with the amount of raw power Marion possessed.
Griffin hastily tuned back in to the conversation before Faragonda could notice her zoning out. Faragonda didn’t seem like she had, though, preoccupied with explaining some of the ideas she and Marion had come up with as to how to reward the Winx for their heroics.
“Truthfully, I feel biased, helping Marion and Oritel thank the Winx for freeing them”, Faragonda confessed as she walked to the sofa, “when I’m just as pleased about it. It’s not just Marion and Oritel who are indebted to them now.”
Griffin agreed. The Winx had done it all for Bloom – and maybe a little out of that weird sense of policing the world that every fairy seemed to have – but they had not only found their friend’s biological parents but undone the evil the Ancestral Witches had inflicted decades ago. They’d restored the balance of the Magic Dimension by returning the Dragon Fire to the throne of Domino and helped the planet gain back its former glory. As well as given many old wounds a chance to heal.
“It’s been really good to see them again”, Griffin said, letting every word fill with the passion and devotion of how much she meant the sentiment in order to satisfy Faragonda’s curiosity enough to discourage her from inquiring. Griffin wasn’t ready to share the conversation she’d had with Marion just yet, needing some time to reconcile with it herself before repeating it. The defense was all the more important when she sat down next to Faragonda, eliminating the possibility of a physical barrier.
Faragonda’s smile could’ve melted ice. “It has.”
Griffin let herself get lost in the flow of Faragonda’s tale as she went on to elaborate on her conversation with Marion. Faragonda’s tone was warm, and the gleam in her eyes betrayed her excitement even when her words were careful. Griffin could trust Faragonda to respect Marion’s privacy and not share anything the woman wouldn’t be comfortable with being shared, so Griffin didn’t feel awkward absorbing all the trivial details she would’ve wanted to ask Marion about if the latter hadn’t expertly steered them clear of small talk during their previous conversation.
Her thoughts refusing to stay in the moment no matter how much she tried to treasure it, Griffin suddenly realized Faragonda was doing the exact opposite of what Marion had done. After briefly explaining how Marion had come to find her late last night, Faragonda had chipperly moved on to lighter topics; she let the conversation stay shallow. Griffin couldn’t know for sure, obviously, but she doubted Marion had foregone sleep in favor of idle chitchat, so Faragonda filling the air with a recap of the less heavy aspects of their encounter made Griffin suspect Faragonda had decided something was off.
The apparent consideration for her emotional well-being had Griffin’s insides turn into liquid and trickle to the bottom of her stomach. As per usual, Faragonda had Griffin’s best interests in mind. She’d always cared for her and taken care of her, been Griffin’s metaphorical sun and literal shoulder to cry on.
“Faragonda”, Griffin cut in during what she hoped was a natural pause in the conversation – if one could call it that when it had been Faragonda monologuing with Griffin too deep in thought to process half of what had been said, let alone pitch in. “I need to ask you something.”
Faragonda raised a worried eyebrow but nodded in encouragement. “Of course.”
Griffin stomped the flicker of embarrassment down before it could burst into flames. She felt awkward to bring it up, but she had to. She’d put it off the whole day, loitering around Alfea while trying to make sense of everything Marion had said to her. “Marion mentioned that she’d spoken with you. That you’d spoken about… me.”
“Ah yes. Marion asked about you.”
“You talked about me?” Griffin couldn’t stop herself from asking even though both Marion and Faragonda had now confirmed it – the idea was just so absurd to her. She’d specifically stayed away to keep Marion free from anything that could be associated with Valtor. But apparently, in addition to having come find Griffin on her own, Marion had brought her up in conversation, too.
“Yes?” Faragonda’s quizzical tone wasn’t an indication of uncertainty about the answer rather than a question about Griffin’s reaction. “I’m under the impression Marion sought out Saladin before he left, too. But you and Hagen have been nowhere to be found, so Marion resorted to secondary sources. And I had to resort to telling her about you since I didn’t know where you were either. I don’t know why Marion thought you weren’t avoiding me as well.” Faragonda’s words could’ve been harsh, but her tone was still as soft as always, so Griffin wasn’t offended. She was upset Faragonda had caught on to her, though.
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to make her question sound convincing.
Unfortunately, Faragonda was having none of it.
“What’s wrong, Griffin?”
“Nothing.”
Faragonda sighed, the exhale frustrated yet unmistakably sad as well. “Griffin, please. What is going on?”
Griffin forced herself to meet Faragonda’s eyes, which she knew to be a mistake, but she didn’t want to offend Faragonda further. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I was just… giving you space.”
“Space for what?”
“They’re back”, Griffin breathed, “It’s a miracle, and I wanted you to be able to enjoy it.”
“And you being there would somehow prevent me from doing that?”
It was evident Faragonda’s question had been sincere as she looked genuinely confused, but Griffin was talking to the bookshelves rather than Faragonda when she answered, “I just wanted to be sure. Since Valtor was the one responsible for destroying their home, and I…”
Griffin shook her head with a humorless chuckle when Faragonda didn’t rush to deny the implication.
“I just… I was worried you’d have to choose between me and them, and I didn’t want to make you do that. Or make you feel like you were obligated to continue to choose me just because the universe once chose for you by sparing me instead of them.” She looked away, ashamed of her words. She didn’t doubt Faragonda’s love for her, not after all these years, but she also acknowledged that for 17 of those she had been able to receive Faragonda’s attention and affection when Marion and Oritel hadn’t. Even though Marion had managed to convince Griffin she didn’t hold her accountable of Valtor’s crimes, and thus wouldn’t resent Faragonda for defending Griffin either, Griffin couldn’t stop worrying she was using up time Marion and Oritel could’ve spent with Faragonda to make up for the time they’d lost.
“That’s the opposite of what I-“, Faragonda’s gasp turned into a sigh when she cut herself off, “Griffin, please hear this.”
Faragonda gathered Griffin’s hands into her own, squeezing like she was afraid Griffin would slip away. The thought made Griffin’s stomach drop. Faragonda was everything to her; she’d never truly push her away. Even when she’d wanted to, she hadn’t been able to – or maybe rather Faragonda had known she hadn’t actually wanted to.
Until their fight.
Griffin had had reasons – sensible and sound enough to convince her when she had missed her best friend, but having Faragonda there now, she couldn’t understand how she’d gotten by with only the memories of what it was like. She must have forgotten; there was no other explanation for why she’d placed her pride higher, especially with Faragonda.
There was nothing to pretend, nothing to hide, nothing to try to save from the fairy for she already knew everything. She’d seen Griffin at her absolute lowest, be it physically, mentally, or morally. And yet she’d never turned away.
“Griffin…” Faragonda began, repeating her name most likely in order to gain her attention. “I was trying to tell you this earlier, but never got the chance. So let me be clear now: there’s nothing, or no one, that would come before you. The universe decided all of our faiths that day, and yes, you saw it yourself how terribly losing Marion and Oritel hurt – but don’t you even dare hint that there was ever a time I would not have been utterly grateful for the grace that you being spared was. You’ve never been an obligation.”
There was a fierceness in Faragonda’s voice despite the sheer heartbreak shining in her eyes, her hands gripping Griffin’s tighter while Griffin could sense the negative energy slipping between Faragonda’s fingers. With her witch background, Faragonda wasn’t the most conventional of fairies, but Griffin couldn’t remember the last time she’d witnessed it so clearly in her magic. In any other situation or with anyone else the shock would’ve made Griffin let go, but Griffin could read it from Faragonda’s face as well as feel it in the woman’s magic that the negativity wasn’t towards her but her thoughts.
Griffin locked her jaw as she blinked back tears, Faragonda’s words having hit somewhere deep. She wondered if she’d missed a spot while patching pieces of herself back together after Marion had torn her apart with frightening precision and tenderness, but truth be told, Faragonda always seemed to find the slightest of cracks through which to reach Griffin no matter how tightly she was wrapped in her defenses. Or perhaps Faragonda created the cracks herself with her mere presence.
Faragonda was always so warm and genuine. Her light not only made the shadows hunting Griffin visible against the night so that she knew what was attacking her, but it also chased them away and made her feel safe. Even Faragonda’s kindness couldn’t miraculously cure everything, but her presence at least replaced the pitch-black darkness with a fog that her brightness could penetrate, so Griffin had a direction in which to head.
Griffin hadn’t kept count of the times Faragonda had surely saved her life; she’d always been too focused on not drowning at the time to recognize what had kept her afloat. But she wondered if Faragonda knew. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to tell her.
Faragonda had chosen her so many times – from risking her reputation by backing her up to the Company and then the Council, to risking her life by backing her up in battle. After a while, Griffin had given up on questioning why she did so and accepted that Faragonda was as ready to lay down her life for Griffin as Griffin was for her. She still didn’t understand it, though. The only other person to have consistently put her first had been her mother. Griffin hadn’t known devotion like that could exist aside from familiar love. The closest she’d come had been with Valtor, but even with him, she’d been second to power. No better herself, Griffin had chosen the world and her conscience over him.
Evidently, she wasn’t as selfless as Faragonda was – she didn’t have that infinite amount of love to share with the universe when it had so often let her down. She had found her limits by being pushed against them and reached them by crashing into them. She was finished, cornered by her past mistakes with no room to give in anymore lest she crossed some boundary. She was worried Faragonda was in a similar situation. Not in the sense that she, too, would break if she had to bend any further, but in the sense that she had no options left. Faragonda had willingly chosen her so many times that Griffin couldn’t help but agonize over the possibility that she’d only done so because she’d felt like she had had to.
But there Faragonda was, upset enough by the mere suggestion of Griffin being an obligation to have let her negative feelings leak into her surroundings. Relieved, Griffin squeezed the hand she could now trust hadn’t been forced.
“How are you always there when I need you?” Griffin asked, trying to hide the wetness of her voice by morphing her question into a chuckle.
Faragonda’s smile was as gentle as her tone as she said, “I swore I’d never let you break, remember? I intend to keep that promise as long as I’m alive.”
There was a glint in Faragonda’s eyes, but the levity she’d allowed Griffin to insert into the conversation was lost as soon as Griffin lost her gaze. She turned her head away – not out of protest but precisely because she’d heard Faragonda’s implication. She couldn’t even begin to think about Faragonda dying.
Faragonda was right, though; she had once promised to make sure Griffin wouldn’t break. Promised to be there as her strength when Griffin had lacked it herself. Promised to be the one to make sure none of the pieces she’d crumbled into got left on the ground and trampled.
No matter how broken she’d been herself, Faragonda had still always managed to mend Griffin. Griffin doubted there was anything Faragonda’s presence couldn’t cure.
Well, there was one heartbreak that had been beyond even Faragonda’s influence. It made sense, though. Faragonda had managed to piece Griffin back together time and again, but she couldn’t fix a hole if she had nothing to fill it with, so the gaping hole in Griffin’s chest would forever remain. Pain and anger could coat it, and the love from her friends could patch the bottom so that she was able to breathe without all of the air escaping through it, but it would never be sealed. Never, for it was so intricate and specific that there was only one person who could fit in it. And that man didn’t exist anymore. It hadn’t discouraged Faragonda from trying, of course, but it had been in vain. Griffin had lost too much, and she had only herself to blame for that. She was responsible for all the parts of herself Valtor had taken. Some parts she’d given willingly while others she had failed to claim back even when she’d tried, but they were lost to her all the same.
“Thank you.”
Faragonda tilted her head in confusion. Griffin smiled despite the hurt.
“Thank you for making that promise. And for keeping it.”
Faragonda had proven she cared throughout time and circumstances. They’d given each other a wide berth after the war – Griffin out of fear of Faragonda’s pain, Faragonda for her own reasons Griffin could speculate about but rather didn’t – but it hadn’t lasted long. Faragonda had been the one to bridge the divide, of course, since Griffin had known Faragonda had been avoiding her too – she would’ve never managed to keep her distance from the woman for as long otherwise – and thus hadn’t wanted to intrude. Her hesitation had been proven obsolete as Faragonda had insisted that the only way to move forward had been to do it together.
Griffin felt it best to elaborate further. “I would never have survived leaving the Coven without you and Saladin. Valtor…” It was only in Faragonda’s company where there was no tremble in her voice at the name that made her whole body ache. “Well, you know it’s complicated, but at the heart of it, what pained me the most was losing him. It’s still tender, but it was so raw back then that I doubted it would ever get better.”
“Some wounds don’t heal, no matter how much time passes”, Faragonda said ruefully. She took a long breath, watching Griffin intently before continuing, “For me, losing you would be one of those. I’ve been terrified for you at times, Griffin. I am terrified for you at times. Because I can’t lose you. You’re too dear and too important to me.”
Griffin shouldn’t have been stunned by the vehemence of Faragonda’s admission, but maybe it was simpler a reaction than accepting that deep down, she’d known all of it already would’ve been. She turned her attention to playing with her fingers in her lap, twisting them like she tried to do to her thoughts to get the right words out. She was almost convinced, but since they were on the topic, Griffin figured it was worth it to dig a little deeper. She wouldn’t muster up the courage to bring it up again, so she might as well add the current conversation to the pile of wounds she’d need to tend to. It would be smarter to heal them all at once.
“Marion, um, brought up how sorry she was not to be able to be there after the war”, Griffin let her smirk convey the eye roll she was tempted to perform at Marion’s self-sacrifice. “I tried to comfort her by insisting we had you to lean onto. And Marion said…”
Griffin chanced a glance at Faragonda who was looking at her with an expectant expression; begrudgingly, Griffin realized Faragonda was going to make her say it.
Griffin took a deep breath, flitting her eyes to the wall again as she breathed out the question that was burning her tongue, “Who had you to lean onto?”
She needed to hear Faragonda say it. Griffin couldn’t in clear conscience wait for her own name, but she couldn’t care less as long as Faragonda said someone else’s. As long as Faragonda had had someone. Maybe she’d confirm Griffin’s belief that she owed Saladin for more than herself. Or maybe Hagen had managed to get through to her before he’d left.
The idea of Hagen punched the air out of Griffin’s lungs as she realized Faragonda had had to relive the end of their relationship alone with Griffin too preoccupied with a past relationship of her own. She’d gotten used to life without Hagen’s brash self following Faragonda around as had been the norm 17 years ago, and since Faragonda had rarely brought it up, Griffin had assumed Faragonda had as well. How hypocritical it had been of her to nurse her own heartbreak decade after decade, all the while assuming Faragonda had been doing better simply because she was sunshine personified? Griffin frantically thought about all the times she’d wept in Faragonda’s arms. During how many of those had Faragonda been hurting, too? And yet, Faragonda would have ignored her own pain in order to see Griffin through her heartbreak.
Just as she was about to fall deep into the rabbit hole her mind was digging with her memories as shovels, someone grabbed her. Griffin blinked in confusion as she tried to make out the shape of whatever had landed on her elbow.
“You.”
Griffin frowned, trying to remember what Faragonda’s answer was for. Her brain made the connection slowly, but her muscles were quicker – she would’ve bolted from the sofa if not for Faragonda’s gentle but firm grip on her upper arm.
“I had you, Griffin. You and Saladin.” Faragonda’s words were forceful, but the squeeze of her fingers was soothing.
“But I…” Griffin wavered under Faragonda’s broken expression and swallowed the rest of her sentence. She turned her protest into bafflement. “I was always burdening you with my pain.” She barked out a humorless laugh and used her free hand to gesture between herself and Faragonda. “Still am.”
“And I will always prefer that to you carrying it all on your own”, Faragonda deadpanned. “Always. It’s not a burden. I’m only grateful that you feel safe enough to share your pain with me.”
Griffin bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying.
“And do you know how I’m able to bear your pain? Because I can loan some of my own to you.”
Griffin had to close her eyes to shut out all disturbing stimuli since every ounce of her willpower was focused on keeping her breathing even. Faragonda was causing her heart to do such somersaults that there was room nowhere in her chest for something as trivial as air.
There was nothing she’d ever wanted more than a way to pay Faragonda back for everything she’d done for her during the several decades of friendship.
With her track record, that was saying something.
Surely, given the chance, she would change a number of incidents, change history even. But erasing her past mistakes wouldn’t be for her benefit. If the war had never happened, Faragonda would never have needed to carry them both through it. Oritel and Marion would have gotten to raise their daughters like every parent was meant to.
Griffin tried not to travel too far with that line of thought to avoid getting wrapped up in the darkness that had been ever-present after the war even though they’d destroyed the Ancestral Witches. She’d felt responsible for Oritel’s and Marion’s assumed deaths. Rationally, she’d tried to argue there had been nothing she could’ve done, nor had the things she had done during her time with the Coven played that big of a role – the war would’ve happened with or without her – and in the grand scheme of things, she had had stuff that had weighed on her conscience much heavier, but logic had hardly won out in the middle of her heartbreak.
Not knowing what had happened to Oritel and Marion had hurt and failing to find Daphne and Bloom had hurt – but Faragonda’s pain had hurt her more than the former two combined. By the Dragon, having to watch Faragonda suffer, to watch the fairy subject herself to the kind of regret and darkness Griffin could from personal experience attest was completely unwarranted… It had been pure agony.
Especially since Griffin had held herself accountable for it. Faragonda had always been her beacon of hope, and she knew with certainty she would have gotten washed away by her pain and surrendered to her guilt without her. In return, she’d only caused her grief. What a way to repay someone she owed everything to.
Except, Faragonda was insisting that wasn’t the case.
Faragonda’s tentative hand on Griffin’s shoulder forced the latter to open her eyes.
“Griffin?”
Griffin fisted her hands in her lap.
All traces of uncertainty vanished from Faragonda’s voice, but the concern remained as she sighed. “Griffin…”
Faragonda inched closer, covering Griffin’s hands with her own. Griffin flipped her wrist so that she could link their fingers. There was only one thought left in her mind, Faragonda managing to have fended off all incoming attacks of her insecurity while chasing away the traces of all the old ones.
How had she gotten so lucky?
She didn’t say it, though, in fear that she drew the world’s attention to them. She couldn’t risk tempting the universe into taking Faragonda away from her. Instead, she mustered up every spark of light in her chest to offer Faragonda a smile that had to say everything she didn’t have the courage nor the elegance for.
Faragonda squeezed her hand, not drawing hers away even as she sat up a little straighter. “I should’ve told you years ago – I just didn’t realize you needed to hear it. I wasn’t saying it to comfort Marion; I meant it, Griffin. I don’t know what I would’ve done after the war without you.”
Griffin had perfect confidence in the fact that Faragonda would have picked herself up fine all on her own, but the idea that she’d made it a little easier was enough to warm her to the core.
Faragonda’s tone was curious when she continued, “I keep thinking though… What if we hadn’t moved on?”
Griffin blinked. “What?”
Faragonda shifted in her seat, seeming a bit uncomfortable with maintaining eye contact though she did. “Everything worked out so well for me after the war. People lost their families, homes, lives. Marion and Oritel… I barely lost anything. Except for hope”, Faragonda nearly spit out the last word, sending chills along Griffin’s spine.
Griffin shook her head so vehemently she wondered if Faragonda could hear how the pieces of her heart rattled inside her ribcage. “You did everything you could to find them, Faragonda. And when you- when we failed, you did the right thing by moving on.”
Faragonda bit her lower lip. “I hear you. Marion herself said something along the lines. I just…” she sighed, a humorless smile tugging the corner of her lips, “I just can’t help wondering what would’ve happened if I’d held on to the past a little longer before running towards the future.”
Griffin tilted her head in thought. Faragonda didn’t seem haunted in the same way she’d seen her the day before. She wasn’t saying it out of malice or lack of care. She was saying it because she wanted Griffin’s opinion.
Griffin tried to imagine the scenario Faragonda was painting. Frankly, if Faragonda had succumbed to grief, everything would have been lost. But that wasn’t what Faragonda would’ve done. She was asking what would’ve happened if she’d spend more time grasping at straws to find Oritel and Marion. She was asking Griffin to say they couldn’t have found them. She needed to hear something she already knew in her heart to be true – Griffin could tell, having been on the other side of a similar conversation countless times.
“I think you’ve seen that already.”
At Faragonda’s look, Griffin continued, “I’ve been stuck in the past. You moved on.” She let some lightness into her tone, certain in her words. “We’re both here, now, aren’t we?”
Faragonda watched Griffin with something akin to pride, or at the very least, wonder, before slowly whispering, “We are.”
She exhaled, allowing her smile to grow into one Griffin could once again find comfort in as she stated, defying the world and odds and everything else they’d fought against the past 17 years. “We all are.”