Work Text:
Invincible
time·less:
Adjective;
not affected by the passage of time or changes in fashion.
Synonyms:
Lasting, enduring, ageless, abiding, unfailing.
Bill stood in the door jamb of the study, smiling as he took in the crumpled form of his sleeping wife. She was hunched over, the soft throw stretched half heartedly across her lap crumpled and creased. It was almost as though she hadn't intended to fall asleep in the middle of the long, sectional sofa at all. As he tiptoed into the room and took in the dust jacket of a book situated face down adjacent to her, he smiled, knowing she probably hadn't.
“Mm, what time is it?” Hillary asked groggily as she stirred, having heard light footsteps drawing closer. One of her blue eyes peeked open, followed slowly by the other. Her husband's heart dropped considerably at the realisation some of the usual brightness they held was nowhere to be found.
“Just past two thirty,” Bill told her softly, setting the mug of mint tea he'd been clutching in his hands carefully down on a side table. The string of the bag still hung loosely over the side of the cup and he gently tugged at it to remove the object at its end floating atop the greenish liquid, setting it lightly on a coaster.
“Why didn't you wake me?” She looked at him quizzically, brow slightly arched, but her tone was by no means accusatory.
“You need to relax,” he told her tenderly. “There was no reason to disturb you, so I didn't. Didn't even know you'd fallen asleep,” he said. “Until I came in to reorganize the bookshelves. And bring you that.” He nodded toward the tea, worrying it was quickly becoming tepid.
“You're reorganizing them again?” Hillary asked him with a slight eye roll as she gingerly picked up her mug and sipped from the edge. “I've just gotten used to where you put things the last time.”
“Well, I know honey, but they're getting kind of mixed up again, so I needed to fix it.”
She nodded, laughing lightly. “Okay.”
“You left your document open on the laptop,” Bill told her as he stepped toward the massive rows of shelving and began pulling out stacks of books. “I read some of what you wrote.”
“Yeah?” Hillary asked him, setting her mug down to readjust her blanket before picking up the book situated near her thigh and placing one side of the dust jacket between pages, using it as a bookmark. “Which part?”
“The section about our marriage,” he said softly as he shifted a handful of heavy hardbacks around on a middle shelf. He nodded to himself once they were appropriately positioned, pleased with his handiwork.
“What about it?” Hillary questioned, glancing upward, voice equally soft.
“How people...some people,” he corrected quickly, “still seem to believe it to be an arrangement of convenience.”
“Ah,” she nodded, locked eyes with him as he looked over his shoulder.
“I'm glad that's not what it's turned into,” he said.
“Me too,” she told him, half smiling. “But it would never.”
Bill looked at her a moment longer before abandoning the sections of books still in disarray in front of him and moving to close the strides of space that lay between their bodies.
“I love you, Hill,” he said thickly once he stood directly in front of her.
Smiling up at him, she clasped his hands, toyed lazily with his fingers before standing herself. “And I love you,” she countered. “I always have and I always will.”
“I know,” he rasped, pulling her into him.
As he ran a hand over her back, he appreciated the softness of her fleece sweatshirt. It had been a good while since he'd seen his wife donning something as simple as yoga pants and a sweater, and though the circumstances surrounding her not having to wear more stately clothing were heartbreaking, he hoped as time went on she'd be able to freely engage in many more such relaxed moments.
“You okay?” He knew that she wasn't, but needed words to fill the silence.
“Not quite,” Hillary told him honestly with a heavy sigh. “But I will have to be. It's just gonna take some time.”
Bill nodded, touching his lips to the top of her head. “You take whatever time it is that you need, baby.”
Baby.
Hillary smiled to herself as the endearment hung in the air between them. The way it rolled freely off his tongue, laced with adoration and a hint of his signature lilt still caused her to feel warm inside so many decades later.
“I'm proud of you for doing the book,” he spoke up, and Hillary startled.
“Thanks,” she breathed, chuckling as she regained composure. “The process has been quite cathartic. Sometimes I do wonder though if I've said too much when I read it back.”
Bill shook his head emphatically to the negative. “You say whatever the hell you want, darlin',” he told her. “You tried your damnedest for the people. Nobody expected us to be here now, but you don't need to be careful any more. Do whatever you want, say whatever you want, go out there and shine like you're invincible, if that's what you feel like doing.”
She laughed – more heavily and genuinely than she had in a while, Bill noted – and the sparkle came back into her eyes, if only momentarily.
“Nobody is invincible, Bill,” she said, rising on tiptoe to meet his lips in a quick kiss. “But you are good at making me feel it.”
“I sure try,” he winked as he pulled back.
“You gonna finish fixing up those bookshelves?” Hillary asked him. “Or leave them looking like a wind storm blew through here?”
“I'll finish,” Bill assured. “But my reason for coming in here was more to make sure you were all right. Tea and the bookshelves were just an excuse.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She pulled him close to her again, and as she locked gazes with him and blue met blue, she was sure of one thing:
What had happened was painful, would be for days, weeks, and months to come, but she could not quit. She was not invincible, but it was clear to her in that moment she did have an arrangement. One of timeless, endless love.