Chapter Text
“Even if we had been married once, the thread of fate between us has been severed. Even if there had been any feelings left, what could I have said to you when hundreds of years have passed?”
He could see it in her eyes.
Doubt.
Fear.
Anger.
Just like those four hundred odd years ago when she returned to their country, leading the women that they couldn’t protect, having viciously, victoriously fought back against barbarians and wilderness that threatened to consume them. She returned starved, beaten but not broken, yet not even welcomed by her own nation. When she saw him, she had the same look in her eyes as she does now.
“Are you really in front of my eyes?
Is this truly happening?
You’re late.”
He knows that he cannot push her as they are. He cannot embrace her in his arms to comfort and console her as he did then, even if he wasn’t bound and kneeling as he is. He is balancing on fragile, thin ice, after everything that he has done. He needs to maneuver this situation with all the delicacy and grace that he possesses.
He sighs. Swallows. Tries to get the right words out.
“Yes, you’re right. It wasn’t a matter of my feelings when I went to rescue you.” She watched him carefully, trying to discern the truth of his words. “It was a matter of my pride. My pride made me misunderstand you and do those foolish things.”
She let out a long, slow breath, the tension on her shoulders loosening by the second. “Thank you for saying that.”
As long as she was comfortable. As long as she felt comforted. As long as it brought her peace. Park Joong-gil may have known her as wife only very recently, but all the affection, admiration and respect that he had for Koo Ryeon had been over two hundred years in the making.
And then he sees it in her eyes, a glimmer of hope that his heart and soul latches onto.
Love.
She bows and turns to leave, and he suddenly couldn’t bear to part.
Not yet.
Not ever.
“Ryeon-a.” It came out so naturally, but he couldn’t think of that right now. There was something he needed to know, after the chaos he ignited with that damn pledge. “What happened to Ryu Cho-hui?”
She takes a moment to find her voice.
“She’s recovered.”
He lets out a sigh of relief, yet is still worried. “Will she try to kill herself again?”
“No. I’ll stop her, no matter what.”
He never thought this day would come, but he’s glad, almost on the verge of tears.
“Right.” He’s so proud of her. She has not changed over the past four hundred years, always ready to jump into the fray, to lend her hands and heart to those that need her. “That’s what the Risk Management Team does. I understand it now.”
I’m sorry that it took this long, with this much pain.
“Thank you.”
As she walks away, he struggles to breathe, struggles not to heave right there and then while she’s still within earshot.
He wants to gently hold her, whisper soft apologies and loving words.
I’m sorry for being late.
I’m sorry for the thousands of condescending remarks I cut you with since you started this.
I’m sorry I used the Reaper’s Guarantee of Responsibility in such a horrific way.
I want to make it up to you.
I want to love you again.
He wants to buy her trinkets that make her eyes light up like he did back then, prompting that pleased grin when he succumbs to her playful banter. The modern era has made accessories so extravagant and creative, he wants to offer her every and any kind that she wants. He knows how fond of it she is with the way she dresses after she left his team.
He wants to go on long night walks next to the river, the sound of water accompanying their comfortable silence or flowing conversations. He wants her to walk next to him, not behind him as she did before and… to hold her hand as they did so.
He wants to buy her coffee, from that cafe she always goes to with her tiny, yet noisy team. The half-ling always ran around the Jumadeung atrium with three cups in his hands and mouth. He sometimes wondered which one was hers as the young man zipped by, and what her favourite flavour was.
He wants to tuck back her pink hair behind her ear when it gets unruly, maybe curl a lock around his fingers. He wonders if it’ll feel as soft as it looks.
He wants to call her bu-in.
He can’t do any of that now, or even in the near future. He knows she needs time and space. He himself needs to recalibrate their relationship, conflate what was back Then, how they were Before and what they'll be Now. Where does one stand with their former spouse, then subordinate, then object of ire and misery, and now…
What are they now?
What does he want them to be now?
He wants to be part of her life again, if she’ll let him.
One month in Hell.
Six months of disciplinary action.
He has a good seven months to plan, then he’ll try his very best to woo her.