Archive of Our Own

“You can’t be serious.” Gideon pushes shaking fingers into their hair and pulls lightly at the roots. “After everything we’ve planned. We’re talking years of planning, Harrow.”

 It’s been hours since Harrow first broke the awful news to Gideon and they’d had to leave her in the entryway of her parents’s old home to take a breather. And now they’re back, listening to Harrow explain her plans all over again, and they still can’t believe it’s true. There had been a part of Gideon that truly hoped Harrow was just having a brief moment of grief-fueled insanity but, as with most things in their life, they are woefully wrong. 

Harrow blinks open her eyes and stops rubbing her temples, nostrils flaring, and grits out, “You think I don’t know that? I couldn’t possibly have predicted their deaths or that they’d leave me the funeral home.” 

“You don’t owe your parents anything,” Gideon says, their voice more acidic than they mean for it to be. “They’re just two people who birthed you and then left you to fend for yourself with about a billion pounds of shame and trauma on your back.” 

“I –” Harrow breaks off and takes a deep breath before trying again. “This business has been in my family for generations, Griddle. It was different when they were alive. Now? Everything has changed. At the very least, I need time to get things in order. I can’t just shirk the responsibility. ” 

“You abso-fucking-lutely can.” Gideon takes Harrow’s hands. “Please come with me. We put off college this long so you could save money and now you’re going to pour it all into this dead-end business – pun fucking intended by the way – that your parents drove into the ground? And for what? So that they’d be proud of you from the great beyond? Fat fucking chance.” Harrow flinches at Gideon’s words and Gideon instantly regrets saying them. They try to backtrack. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.” 

“No. It wasn’t.” There’s a wall up now, impenetrable from Gideon’s side. Harrow’s face closes up even as they watch, her mouth a tight line. She shakes her head minutely and pulls her hands from Gideon’s. “You don’t get to determine my future any more than they did. I’m not beholden to them. I want to do this.” 

Gideon exhales sharply through their nose, almost a laugh, more of a scoff. “And I’m just supposed to take it on the chin and leave without you and…what, exactly? Live the life we planned to live together by myself?” 

Harrow’s eyes soften a little. “You can always come back and visit. It’s only a plane ride away.” 

Gideon’s temper flares. “So this is it. You get final say on our future, after all this time, after everything I did for you.” They bite off the end of their sentence, regret instant and white hot once again. Silence falls between them for several long, aching moments before Harrow speaks again. 

“You were never beholden to me either, Gideon.” The use of Gideon’s given name sends a thrill of anxiety through them. Harrow sniffs and blinks hard, her dark eyes still trained on Gideon’s face. “I don’t owe you anything just because you chose to take pity on me. I never asked for your help and I certainly never needed it.” 

Pride and indignation well up inside of Gideon’s chest. “Never needed–” Gideon lets out an exasperated breath. “Oh, and I guess I should have just been okay watching you struggle every fucking day of our lives.” 

“If it would have prevented this wholly unwelcome scene, then yes.” 

Gideon sits heavily, hands in their hair once again as they process. “So. Okay. So, you want me to go. And you’re not coming with me. That’s the final word.” 

Harrow’s voice is softer when she says, “This doesn’t have to be the end, Griddle.” 

Gideon shakes their head, stubbornness like a rock in their chest. “It is the end, though, isn’t it? Because when I leave here, I am never coming back. Drearburh never gave either of us anything we needed. It sure as hell won’t give me anything I want either.” 

The lie is awful even as they say it and the quiet that follows sits in Gideon’s collarbones as Harrow’s face twists up, then smoothes out into a blank expression. Gideon knows her mind is well and truly made up and when Harrow makes up her mind, there is no changing it. She just doesn’t seem to remember that Gideon is the same way. 

“Then, I suppose this is the end,” Harrow says primly, her voice betraying nothing. 

Gideon fights back a groan and stands. Their hands itch with the desire to reach for Harrow, to take her into their arms and hold her and tell her how sorry they are and that they’ll stay for her. That all she has to do is ask. But something deeper and darker keeps the words inside and their hands clenched into fists, and they try to school their expression into something more neutral than the pain and anger that they know is twisting their features. 

“Guess so,” is all they can manage.

Gideon turns to leave and Harrow clears her throat. When they turn to look, Harrow is swallowing hard, her hands twisted in front of her, her lips parted, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are shining and the urge to hold her sweeps into Gideon’s chest like a tidal wave but the anger burns hotter than their desire and in the end, they just give her a half smile and a small salute.

“Good luck, Harrowhark,” Gideon says. “You’re gonna fucking need it.” 

When they leave, they can feel Harrow’s eyes on them the whole way down the hall and out the door and it’s not until they’re halfway across the country, thousands of feet above the earth, that the anger that had been roiling inside of them subsides and the tears come. Gideon only just manages to convince themself that it’s too late now. There’s no going back to where you came from. 

***

6 years later

Drearburh is as dreary and depressing as ever when Gideon steps out of the small local airport with a bag slung across their back. Their stomach twists as they take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The grayness of it all sinks into their skin and slips between their fingers and toes, fills them with an intense feeling of not-belonging-ness and they have to actively fight not to turn around and get back on the first plane out of here. But the thought of Abigail and Magnus, waiting patiently for them to arrive, pushes them on. 

It’s only a few months, they remind themself, and they can easily avoid Harrow. It’s not like she’d have any need for a physical therapist anyway. 

Their drive is uneventful and they take the long way around the small cove that Drearburh is built on, watching the evening fog creep in from the water. The sunlight breaks through small slits in the clouds, occasionally glinting off the waves. The light hurts Gideon’s eyes. They wipe at them impatiently as they follow the familiar road past the cove, around the curve by the old bean factory, past the small gas station they’re not sure was ever in business, and into the little neighborhood that holds far more ghosts than they’re comfortable with acknowledging. 

Magnus’s and Abigail’s house is as lovely and homey as ever with its soft green paint and long rows of wildflowers along the white picket fence, a sure sign that Magnus had been up to his old gardening ways before his surgery. Gideon pointedly ignores the tree with the tire swing as they walk up the stone path and step onto the porch. It lingers in their periphery anyway. 

It’s there that Gideon pauses. They look back over their shoulder at the large oak, eyes easily finding the carved section. Their fingers twitch around the strap of their bag as they remember the exact feel of the cut bark, the rough edge of the jagged H and the even more jagged G. Some unseen force sweeps through them and suddenly they want to see if the initials are still there. But before Gideon can step from the porch, the front door swings open and their desire is lost in a fast and furious reunion with the foster parents who raised them. 

After a dinner and thorough checking in on Magnus and his still-healing hip and one late night drink during which Gideon almost admits that they’re terrified to be back, they find themself in their childhood bedroom with a heart that feels something just shy of hollow. 

Never going back only means something if you really never do. 

They sit on the edge of their small twin bed and run a palm over the faded quilted coverlet, looking around at all of the posters and tchotchkes that they collected over the years and stuffed onto shelves and into corners. There’s the old figurines they collected from their favorite tv show and the stack of comics they read a hundred times over and a box that they’re sure holds some of their baby teeth still. Something about that knots hard in Gideon’s chest and they fight the confusing urge to take the box and smash it, to burn the wood and dissolve any traces of themself that still exists here in Drearburh. But that would require more than a small blaze. Truth be told, they’d have to burn down the whole town. 

 Instead of resorting to arson, Gideon gets up and washes their face and brushes their teeth and changes into pajamas and then they lay in their small, squeaky childhood bed and try their best not to remember. 

Only a few months and then they can leave again and pretend they’re not the ungrateful child Abigail and Magnus raised and that they don’t have a past they’re trying desperately to outrun.

***

A week into their time in Drearburh and Gideon realizes that this might have been a mistake. Magnus’s patient list is small and his appointment book is sparse and leaves far too much time for Gideon to sit at the desk and look out the window at the lapping waves and think. They consider calling Camilla and begging her to take their place. Magnus didn’t need Gideon specifically. He just needed someone to cover for him while he heals. Camilla would be more than sufficient. Better, even, than Gideon, who is distracted by all of the fucking memories. 

They watch a small boat moor out in the middle of the cove and the tiny person inside set up to fish. That’s one other thing Gideon definitely didn’t miss about Drearburh. The overwhelming gray and the smell of fish that lingers everywhere like it’s part of the neverending fog. Even the smell of the city they live in now, in all its filth and despair, is more welcome. Gideon recalls the afternoons on a boat with Magnus after that, all those long hours when he taught them how to make lures and patiently wait for a bite at the end of their line, and feels a little sick at their own bitterness. 

Their next appointment comes in with a ding at the door and Gideon stands to welcome them. It’s a familiar face, proud but worn as if the years they stayed have beaten them down just a little. Gideon glances at the appointment book to remind themself of who it is, then looks back up at the patient with a slow smile. 

“Babs?” Gideon says.

Naberius Tern glowers at them from the doorway, a frown twisting his mouth. “Oh, god. Not you.”

“Me.” Gideon points at their chest, then lifts their chin a little in acknowledgement. “Taking over while Magnus recovers.” 

“I’ll just cancel my appointment, thanks,” Naberius says. 

Gideon holds up a hand. “Cancellations less than 24 hours in advance are still charged full cost.” 

Naberius lets out a long breath and walks into the clinic. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Gideon takes Naberius through his exercises and tries not to talk about anything unrelated to the injury and his therapy but isn’t very successful. They ask about Coronabeth first, ignoring Naberius’s irritated look. He tells Gideon about Corona’s very important and very successful career as an influencer. Gideon isn’t 100% sure they even know what that entails but they nod as if they understand. Ianthe comes up and Gideon schools the conversation away from her, asking Naberius about himself but he’s not too keen to talk about what he’s been up to. The conversation dwindles and dies out after that and at the end of their time, Naberius leaves with another scowl and follow up appointment set. 

When Gideon locks up after finishing their last two appointments, they aren’t ready to go home yet. There’s too much there, in the halls and rooms and corners and the way Abigail looks at them with a softness that tells Gideon she’s a little worried and how Magnus silently and discreetly took down an old holiday card from the fridge when Gideon walked into the kitchen for dinner. 

Magnus doesn’t know that Gideon went back down in the middle of the night and dug it out of the drawer and it was a picture of Harrow with a small smile on her face along with a holiday greeting from her and her parent’s funeral home. Gideon had stared at the picture for far too long, their heart twisting in their chest as they looked at the beautiful bow of Harrow’s lips and the way her sharp cheekbones looked in the glow of the holiday lights and the way her eyes still looked fathomless. The picture made them wonder all over again what the hell they were even doing here, but they folded the picture anyway and tucked it into the pocket of their pants and went back to bed. 

Gideon drives out of their way to the small bar they’re sure is still there, the one on the edge of town with really cheap drinks and an ancient jukebox that only plays songs from over 50 years ago. They pull into the gravel lot and climb out of their rental car and stand there in the cool, damp air for a long breath before they walk inside. 

It’s exactly like it was six years ago, with its sticky wooden floors and the smell of old beer lingering in the air. Gideon doesn’t look around much, unwilling to run the risk of catching the eye of an old classmate, and sits down heavily on a cracked vinyl barstool. The bartender comes over and they order a beer and then they’re left alone again with their memories and nothing to distract them. Their thoughts weave through time, through heartache and the pain of abandonment and the anger that they’ve pushed so deep inside they’re sure eventually they’ll forget it’s there. Two beers later, Gideon decides to call it a night. They pull a wrinkled clump of bills from their pocket and drop it on the counter, half waving at the bartender as they stand. 

Gideon makes a short detour to the bathroom and as they leave, wiping their wet hands on their jeans, they hear it. 

“Gideon?” 

Harrow’s voice is exactly how Gideon remembered it, with its soft lilt that always made them feel a little weak in the knees. Right now, however, she sounds incredulous and irritated. Gideon turns to see Harrow standing there, arms folded, eyebrows pulled together so hard there’s a little canyon between them that Gideon instantly wants to smooth out with their thumb. They shove their hands in their pockets instead, uncomfortable and feeling somehow much too big and much too small for the space, and give Harrow a half smile.

“Harrowhark.” 

“What are you doing here?” She sounds accusatory, as if Gideon is encroaching on some experience she’s meant to be having. 

“Helping Magnus.”

Harrow’s expression softens a little. “Oh. Right.” 

They both stand there, looking at each other for longer than Gideon thinks is necessary, before Harrow opens her mouth again to speak. Gideon preemptively interrupts her. 

“I’ll see you around, Harrow,” they say, then leave without another word or another glance or another tight clench of their heart. 

Gideon only cries a little bit on their drive home and their eyes are dry when they arrive, Abigail and Magnus never the wiser. 

***

Seeing Harrow again felt like getting shot. Thinking about their brief interaction feels like trying to clean the wound with steel wool. Gideon rubs at the ache furiously, trying to scrub out its existence. It just makes it messier, the pain so acute that sometimes they can’t breathe. Harrow looked good, with her slightly grown out hair and cheeks reddened from the cool air. And Gideon can’t help but hate her a little for it. It would be so much easier if Harrow looked as haggard as Gideon’s soul felt when they saw her. If she looked like the last six years had been some sort of a struggle. As if she’d missed Gideon even a little. But instead, she looked like she was thriving and happy and all of that without them around to get in the way. 

And if she was doing that well without Gideon, what did that say about them? 

Gideon goes about their work mechanically, professional as ever, not even flinching when Naberius makes a nasty comment about their hair. They work and clean up Magnus’s files and get his paperwork up to date and start on digitizing it and at the end of their day, they go straight home and avoid the stupid bar. Abigail pulls them aside one evening and asks if they’re okay, if they’re happy here, and Gideon lies through their teeth and tells her that they’re so glad to be back in Drearburh. Magnus just looks at them with a look that tells Gideon he knows more than they’re comfortable with and so Gideon tells them goodnight and goes up to their bedroom without eating dinner, claiming a headache. They lay in their bed and think more about Harrow and ignore the stinging of tears behind their eyes. Two more weeks pass like this before Magnus says anything. 

“Harrow came by earlier,” Magnus comments casually as Gideon helps Abigail set the table. “She asked how you were. Said you’d run into each other over at Canaan House.” 

Gideon hums noncommittally and nods.

Magnus continues. “She said you were rather rude to her.” 

Gideon snorts. “Rude. How?” 

Abigail shoots Magnus a look and then glances at Gideon. “We don’t have to talk about this, dear.” 

“No, I want to know.” 

“She said you just walked out on your conversation.” 

“Magnus,” Gideon groans as they sit down, hands in their hair, and give him a look. “We weren’t having a conversation. We were barely talking to each other. It was like a brief greeting, at best.” 

“Well, I know you two parted on bad terms back in the day,” Magnus says.

“Magnus.” Abigail’s voice holds a warning and Magnus looks at her sheepishly. “Leave Gideon alone.” 

“Listen to your wife,” Gideon says, folding a napkin into fourths, then unfolding it again and smoothing it against the table. They avoid both sets of eyes staring in their direction. “I’ll be nicer if I see her again.” 

Abigail rubs Gideon’s shoulder and sits down at her place. “All you need to be is polite.”

“I can do that,” Gideon promises.

***

There’s a slowness in Drearburh that Gideon isn’t used to anymore. They think it might be the same slowness they’d originally left because of but it feels different now. Everyone drives like the journey to a place is just as important as the arrival, walks more intently as if they have somewhere to go but it’s not a rush. Gideon learns to follow the flow of car and foot traffic and as they do, they begin to notice things they hadn’t noticed before. The way the light reflects from the spray of water as the fruit vendor on main street washes off his store stoop. The smell of the sugar in the air from the bakery when they go to pick up a muffin from the batch fresh out of the oven. How the fog rolling off the bay softly diffuses the sunrise, making the air seem as if it’s glowing. 

The city park is never empty. There are always people milling around in groups of two or more, talking and laughing, buying things from the small business that set up tents and sell their homemade wares. Gideon buys one of these homemade things, a mug that’s glazed a deep red with a speckled white rim. It’s imperfectly made, with a thumbnail mark along the side and little divot along the rim where the ceramicist pressed too hard against it while it was wet. The look of it feels like Drearburh, in a weird way. Like home, even though home isn’t so easy to recognize these days. They love it anyway, and drink their coffee out of it every morning and think that maybe they should buy one for Camilla and Palamedes before they leave. 

The realization is slow but eventually they’re faced with the fact that being here feels good. It forces Gideon to stretch out and take up space, normally so discouraged in the city where they’re crammed in next to their neighbor on streets and in the subway and even in the small, cramped apartment building they rent from. 

Maybe this isn’t so bad, they think to themself, pouring some milk into their coffee and watching the way it drifts against the edges of the ceramic mug. Not so bad at all. 

***

At the end of their fourth week back in Drearburh, Abigail asks Gideon to run into town for some very specific ingredients and so they drive the few miles to the small, specialty grocery store that carries them. Gideon isn’t sure how it’s stayed in business this long, but suspects Abigail’s baking habits have something to do with it. The parking lot is empty save for one single car which Gideon parks next to. The sunlight glares off the storefront windows and Gideon goes inside. There’s a gentle tinkling as the door hits the little bell hanging over the top and they hear a muffled “I’ll be right with you!” coming from the back room. 

Gideon wanders the small aisles looking for the things from their list and collects the bottles and jars in their arms, regretting the decision to forgo a basket as they carry everything to the counter. They set the groceries down gingerly and wait for help. Behind the counter, they hear a quiet giggle. Gideon lifts up onto their tiptoes and peers over the edge. There’s a small girl staring up at them, with wide, dark eyes and a gap toothed smile on her face. 

“Oh. Hello,” Gideon says, smiling. “Who are you?” 

The girl holds up three fingers, then ducks her head to scribble with a crayon on the page in front of her. She holds it up after a moment to show off swirls of color that Gideon chooses to interpret as abstract flowers. 

“That’s very pretty,” Gideon says, their smile widening. 

“Sorry about that,” the voice comes again as the door pushes open. Gideon straightens, pulling back from the counter. “I was just – oh.” 

Harrow and Gideon look at each other as Gideon silently curses Abigail. Whatever happened to leaving them alone about Harrow? 

“Hey, Harrow,” Gideon says, forcing a bit of warmth into their voice. “How’s it goin’?” 

She looks a little tired today, her black eyes lined at the corners and her mouth pulled tight at the intrusion Gideon appears to be. Harrow beckons the little girl who stands up. 

“Go on back, sweet pea,” Harrow says in a soft voice. “Your sandwich is ready for you. Go eat lunch.” 

Sweet pea. Lunch. Harrow’s voice. Gideon blinks a few times, processing, as they watch the exchange and as the girl heads back behind the door Harrow just came from.

“Who was that?” Gideon asks, accusatory. 

“None of your business.” Harrow puts her hands on her hips. “What do you need?”

Gideon gestures vaguely towards the hodgepodge of items on the counter and Harrow begins ringing them up. “Who was that, Harrow?”

Harrow tells them the total in a terse voice, then says, “Anything else I can help you with?” in a tone that clearly expresses she does not want to help Gideon with anything else.

Gideon hands over their card, clenching their teeth as Harrow swipes it. “Why won’t you answer me?”

Harrow bags the groceries silently, then passes the paper bag over. “Have a good day.” 

Gideon takes the bag, cradling it in one arm. Harrow moves to walk through the door to the back again and Gideon holds a hand out. “Wait. Harrow, please.” 

Gideon isn’t sure what does it but Harrow pauses, her shoulders drooping just a little bit as she stops with one hand on the door and the other twisted into the apron she’s wearing. Gideon can see her visibly swallow as she turns. 

“That,” Harrow says, gesturing towards the back, “was my daughter.”

“Your daughter.” Gideon echoes.

The words don’t make sense. Her daughter. Harrowhark’s daughter. Harrow, who always swore she’d never have kids, who swore she wouldn’t repeat the mistakes her parents made.  

“Yes.” Harrow’s voice is clipped, cold and closed off. 

“You have a daughter.” 

“Goddamnit, Griddle.” The use of Harrow’s old nickname doesn’t escape Gideon’s notice. “Yes. I have a daughter. She’s three. Now leave it.” 

She doesn’t wait after that, just pushes the door to the back open and steps through it and is gone from Gideon’s view. Gideon clutches the bag of groceries like a fucking lifeline as they force their legs to move and walk them out the door, the friendly chime of the bell announcing their departure. They climb into their car woodenly, setting the groceries on the floorboard, and sit with their hands on the steering wheel as they take in one deep breath, then another, trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do with this information. 

They hand off the bag of groceries to Abigail and ignore her questions, concern in her voice, as they walk out of the kitchen and down the hall and to the backyard where they sit on the porch swing and try not to cry at the implications of it all. 

Gideon knows they have no right to be angry at the fact that Harrow had an entire life that didn’t involve them but they can’t help the anger anyway. It feels white hot in their chest, fitting perfectly into the Harrow shaped hole that was carved there six years ago when they left Drearburh. They sit, replaying the last time they saw Harrow, when everything went to shit, and then spend a good hour making themself sick thinking about who Harrow had a baby with. 

Abigail comes out a little while later to check on them and hands off a cup of hot tea which Gideon takes and sips at as she sits next to them quietly. 

“Did you know about Harrow’s baby?” Gideon asks after a couple of minutes, feeling deeply stupid. Of course she knew. Of course everyone knew. 

“I’m so sorry, Gideon,” Abigail says. “I didn’t realize Lola would be with her today. I promise, I didn’t send you on purpose.” 

Lola. Gideon closes their eyes and swallows. When they open them again, Abigail is looking at them with pity in her eyes. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Gideon assures her, smiling weakly. “I’m sure I would have found out eventually. Small town and all that.” 

They sit quietly for a while. The sun hangs low in the sky, already setting despite the early afternoon hour. Gideon listens to the breeze in the trees and watches Magnus’s foxgloves sway in the wind. Abigail doesn’t say anything, just loops her arm around Gideon’s. Inside, they hear Magnus moving around and then the door opens and he appears on his crutches, hobbling over to them to sit heavily in one of the other chairs on the porch. 

“You okay, kiddo?” 

Something about Magnus’s voice is so careful that the tears Gideon has been fighting all afternoon well up and spill out of their eyes. They lean their elbows on their knees and bury their face in their hands to muffle the sound of their crying as they let it out. Abigail rubs their back soothingly and Gideon pictures her and Magnus speaking with each other silently, using only expressions to discuss their despairing child. Gideon can’t even bring themself to care or be embarrassed at this point. There are a million things they lost out on when they left Harrow and the regret sits heavy in their stomach. 

Lola. She seemed sweet, so small and dark eyed, just like Harrow. Her hair was reddish in ways that Harrow’s wasn’t, though. Gideon wonders if her other parent was a redhead and the thought makes them feel so sick that they have to stop crying and suck air into their lungs to keep the nausea at bay. 

Eventually the tears stop completely and Gideon straightens and wipes their face against their shoulder, then takes in a deep shuddering breath. They give Magnus and Abigail a thumbs up and go back inside to wash up. Dinner is quiet and most of the conversation is between Magnus and Abigail. Gideon goes to bed as early as they possibly can and lies awake long past midnight with a brain full of thoughts of Harrow and Lola and when they fall asleep, they dream of losing themself in a maze that’s full of dead ends and narrow passages and they never are able to find their way out.

***

Gideon isn’t sure what possesses them to show up at the gourmet store again a week later but they see the same brown sedan out front that they had before and they walk inside as if they have a purpose in being here. Harrow is leaning on the counter, thumbing through a newspaper, and glances up at the sound of the bell. Her expression tightens when she sees it’s Gideon and she stands, folding the paper crisply before setting it beneath the counter. 

“She’s not here,” she says before Gideon can speak.

“I wasn’t here for Lola,” Gideon says before they realize their slip up. They inwardly flinch at Harrow’s flinty look. 

“I see that Abigail let the cat out of the bag. What are you here for, if not to pester me?” 

Gideon slopes down an aisle and grabs something from the shelf blindly. They hold it up for Harrow to see. “Obviously, food.” 

“You’re in the market for pickled eggs?” 

Gideon looks down at the jar and shrugs their mouth, then looks at Harrow again. “Yep.” 

They take it to Harrow and hand it over. She takes it, their fingertips barely touching, and Gideon tries to ignore the tremble in their hands as they let go. Harrow scans the barcode but the reader doesn’t beep and she frowns at the machine as if it’s betrayed her. 

“One moment,” she says, typing something into the keyboard. Gideon watches her, the furrow in her eyebrows so familiar, the frown on her lips deepening as she reads something on the screen. Harrow’s mouth tightens and she shakes her head minutely before muttering, “Fuck.” 

“Not working?” 

Harrow pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and narrows her eyes at the screen, typing furiously again, before answering. “My system crashed last night. I think I lost some of the inventory codes.”

“ Your system?” 

“Yes?” Harrow finally looks up at Gideon. “This is my shop.” 

“Wait. Protesilaus doesn’t own it anymore?” 

“That’s correct.” Harrow sighs and types some more, then hands the jar back to Gideon. “Five should be enough.” 

Gideon hands over a bill. “You’re not running the funeral home anymore?” 

Harrow shakes her head. “No. Not since…” She trails off and straightens. “Well, anyway, yes. I bought the shop from Pro a few years ago. I needed more flexibility.” 

“Because of Lola.” It’s a statement, not a question, and Harrow quirks an eyebrow at Gideon. 

“Yes. Because of Lola.” 

There’s a pause, then Gideon sets the jar of pickled eggs on the counter and leans against it. “Give me something, Harrow. Anything.” 

Harrow takes a step back as if Gideon is encroaching on her space. “What do you mean?” 

“Whose is she?” 

“She’s mine,” Harrow says indignantly. “She’s my daughter, Gideon.” 

“But who else’s?”

Harrow bristles visibly, her shoulders stiffening and a muscle in her jaw flexing. She looks at Gideon with thinly veiled anger. “You’re not entitled to that information.” 

“Harrow, we’ve known each other since we were kids. You have to tell me.” 

“I don’t have to do anything. You lost the right to ask when you decided neither I nor Drearburh was worth your time or effort.” 

There it is. Gideon feels like they’ve been slapped. They gear up for a fight, ready to fire back, but the look on Harrow’s face stops them. Beneath the anger, the annoyance, there’s a sadness gleaming in those bottomless eyes. Gideon would recognize that look anywhere, even disguised by irritation. Gideon chews on the inside of their cheek and looks down at their feet for an uncomfortably long moment, because the fuck of it all is that Harrow is completely right. She doesn’t owe them anything. All of their pride fizzles out and they suck the back of their teeth, nodding. Gideon picks up the jar again and steps back from the counter and Harrow relaxes a little. 

“You’re right.” 

Harrow looks startled at Gideon’s admission. “Pardon?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry for prying.” 

Blinking, Harrow presses her lips together. Her eyebrows pull into a knot as she finally says, “Thank you.”

Gideon just nods as they take a step backward, then turn on their heel and walk to the door. They start to open it and Harrow speaks again. 

“The funeral home was too much.” 

Gideon looks over their shoulder at her. “Too much?”

“Too many memories. Too much…” Harrow trails off and waves her hand vaguely in front of her. “I couldn’t do it anymore. It wouldn't have been fair to Lola either. I didn’t want that for her.” 

Gideon nods as if they understand. And they kind of do. Harrow always seemed stifled and small when she was working and living with her parents, like it was draining the life out of her. It had only been after she’d moved into a small studio after high school that she seemed to be able to breathe for the first time. Her parents had hated her so-called rebellion and had cut her off, forcing her to grow up far too quickly. And then they had died suddenly and Gideon had watched her retreat into herself again, burdened by all the grief before taking the responsibility of their business on. At the time, it had pissed them off. 

“I’m sorry,” Gideon says. “For not being more understanding.” 

Harrow gives them a small smile. “It is what it is.” 

Gideon drives to the small local beach after they leave and they sit on the rocky shore and scream into their hands as they think about Harrow grieving her parents and her relationship with Gideon and struggling to come out of it without losing herself again. They think about her alone and lonely and pregnant and there’s this scrambling feeling inside, frantic and uncomfortable, where they try to figure out how to fix all of this for her and simultaneously realize that there’s nothing they could ever do that would fix anything, that everything is too far gone and it’s their fault. The feeling of failure and regret lives and dies in their chest. 

***

 Gideon sees Lola before they see Harrow, walking through the city square park right after Gideon finishes lunch at the local diner. They stop on the sidewalk and wave hesitantly at Harrow as she looks up to see them watching and then she waves hesitantly back. Lola, on the other hand, waves emphatically, pointing and saying something to Harrow that Gideon can’t hear. Harrow says something to her and shakes her head. Lola makes a pouty face and Gideon fights their smile when Harrow closes her eyes and opens them again with a quick nod. Lola runs towards the edge of the park and Harrow calls out to her to stop and wait for her. She stops, impatiently wiggling as Gideon jogs across the street towards them. They reach Lola at the same time Harrow does. 

Gideon lifts their hand in a small wave at Lola. “Hi there.” 

Suddenly shy, Lola ducks behind Harrow’s leg a little, peeking around the edge with that gap toothed smile. Gideon looks at Harrow who is watching them with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“What are you up to right now?” they ask, awkwardly rubbing the back of their neck. 

“We were on our way to get some lunch,” Harrow says cooly, gesturing to the diner Gideon just left. 

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna have?” Gideon crouches and nods at Lola who is still staring at them. 

Lola looks up at Harrow who gives her a small nod. “You can tell them,” she encourages. 

“Girl cheese,” Lola says in a shy, raspy voice, glancing at Gideon before hiding her face against Harrow’s leg again.  

“Ah, good ol’ girl cheeses. Classic,” Gideon says seriously. “Great choice.” 

Harrow shifts on her feet, then reaches down to take Lola’s hand in her own. “We should get going.” 

Gideon racks their brain, trying to remember when their next appointment is. They figure they’ve got at least an hour. 

“Can I buy you lunch?” they ask, ignoring the fact that they just finished eating a few minutes ago and praying that Harrow will take them up on the offer. 

Harrow opens her mouth, then closes it again, and her eyebrows furrow in that beautifully familiar way as she pauses before answering. “No,” she says.

It takes Gideon off guard with all of its frankness and they have to take a second to realize what she said. “Ah. Okay.” They feel heat rise in their cheeks and tuck their hands into their pockets, determined to walk away before they can really sink into the full measure of the humiliation that’s threatening to overwhelm them.  

Harrow stops them with her next comment, though it sounds a bit hesitant as it leaves her mouth. “But, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like though.” 

The diner is emptier than it had been before, which Gideon is thankful for. No one to call them out for coming back immediately after finishing lunch except for the waitress who gives them a knowing smile and wink as she leads them to a small booth in the back. 

“Someone’s got an appetite,” she says as they all slide in, Harrow and Lola on one side, Gideon on the other. 

Gideon clears their throat. “Yeah, this little one could probably eat a horse,” they interject, pointing at Lola who looks at them with confusion clear on her little face. 

The waitress nods and smiles wider. “Sure.” 

Harrow places an order for herself and Lola and Gideon orders a slice of pie, too full for anything else. 

“I, uh, had a big breakfast,” Gideon lies, feeling silly. 

Harrow doesn’t question it. “You always did like your breakfasts.” 

She pulls a coloring book and box of crayons from her purse and hands them to Lola who begins to color furiously, eyebrows scrunched together and the tip of her tongue sticking out. Gideon watches for a while, wondering what all the swirls and scribbles could possibly be, before shaking their head and turning their attention to Harrow.

“She’s cute,” they say. “So tiny.” 

Harrow smiles. “She is that. My little pea.” 

She reaches over and strokes Lola’s hair affectionately. It’s strangely open and honest and Gideon wishes that they could live in the moment forever. Harrow watches Lola color, some expression Gideon can’t parse on her face. When Harrow looks at them again, she looks more guarded. 

“So, you’re back to help Magnus,” she says. 

“Yep. For another couple of months. Until he’s fully back on his feet. And to see him and Abigail again. Haven’t been home since–” They break off. Harrow knows how long it’s been since they’ve been home. They feel stupid for even bringing it up. “Anyway, it’s been good to see them.” 

Harrow takes a sip of water, then pushes Lola’s small cup towards her. “Drink some water, honey.” 

Lola drinks from her sippy cup distractedly, one little fist still pushing a waxy red crayon across the page, then puts the cup back on the table without looking. It’s too close to the edge and nearly falls, but Gideon reaches out to grab it before it can tip over. Harrow shoots them a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

They fall silent, just the sound of an old song playing on the overhead speakers and Lola’s intense scribbling filling the space between them. Harrow folds her hands on the table, then refolds them, and clears her throat. 

“You know, Abigail and Magnus really helped me out,” she says, her tone casual. “During the pregnancy, I mean. Well, and after. Abigail helped me repaint the whole store.” 

This knowledge makes Gideon’s chest ache. They think of Harrow reorganizing shelves and Abigail helping to paint. They wonder what Harrow looked like, with her pregnant belly, and the ache grows. 

“I’m glad they did. It must have been kind of rough.” 

Harrow shrugs. “It was, a little. Mostly just because I was so sick for most of it.” 

“Did anyone else help?” Gideon asks, a feeble attempt at prying the truth out of her. 

Harrow’s expression shutters closed, and Gideon tries to figure out how to backtrack. The waitress comes by with their food and Gideon doesn’t miss the relief that flits across Harrow’s face at the interruption. She cuts Lola’s sandwich into even smaller triangles and places it in front of her, then gently takes the crayon from her tiny hand. Lola looks like she’s about to protest and Harrow just smiles and pushes the sandwich closer. Lola looks at the sandwich, then back at Harrow, her face scrunched up in frustration.

“You have to eat a little first and then you can keep coloring, okay?” 

Lola nods and takes a bite, then another, and soon she’s distracted enough by the food to forget the coloring and Harrow focuses on her own meal. They eat in silence, Gideon’s heart thumping in their chest at the sight of Harrow’s gentle parenting. They never spent that much time with Harrow’s parents but it was enough to know that she did not get these skills from either her father or her mother. 

“You’re a good mom,” they say earnestly.

Harrow pauses, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. Her cheeks go red and she looks down at her food before thanking Gideon in a very quiet voice. 

Gideon spends way too long trying to draw out their time together but eventually the three of them part ways, a little awkwardly and while standing in full view of the majority of Drearburh, and Gideon goes back to the clinic with a head full of thoughts. It’s odd, they think, to know someone as well as they once knew Harrow and now to feel like they’re virtual strangers. There’s a whole chunk of Harrow’s life that doesn’t include Gideon and never will and all they want is to know every single sordid detail. They want to see the pictures of Harrow in every stage of her pregnancy. They want to hear her stories, to see the birth photos, to know what happened to the other parent. It’s a sickness, Gideon thinks, to still love someone so much and to no longer know them. 

Gideon tries asking Abigail again. She dodges their questions with another comment about Harrow needing to be the one to tell her own story. Magnus is just as bad. Gideon calls Camilla that night while laying in bed and complains about it. Camilla, in her own simple, straightforward way, tells Gideon that Harrow doesn’t owe them her past and to stop badgering her to hand it over. Before hanging up, Camilla offers a suggestion. 

“Try just being her friend.” 

“What?” Gideon stretches out, pointing their toes, and rolls their eyes. “I am.” 

“No. You’re trying to pry information out of the poor woman. Just ease off. Be her friend and stop expecting so much from it. If she wants to tell you, she will. In her own time. If not, be content with whatever it is she wants to give to you.”

“Oh, alright,” Gideon says crossly. “You and Abigail are conspiring.” 

Camilla laughs, short and sweet. “I mean it. You’re a great person, Gideon. Harrow knew that once. Let her see that you still are.” 

After they hang up, Gideon stares into the dark, listening to the crickets singing out in the foggy night air. They fall asleep with doubt in their head and a pain in their heart but enough good sense to consider Camilla’s advice. 

***

Unexpectedly, Harrow and Gideon find some sort of rhythm and it’s almost too easy to slip into old patterns.

There’s the afternoon that Gideon offers to help Harrow with her computer problems. 

“Back for more pickled eggs?” Harrow asks when Gideon appears at the counter.

“Honeycomb,” they say, holding up a box. “Saw it last time. Thought it looked good.” 

“Lola likes it,” Harrow says and that’s enough of a recommendation for Gideon.

“Your system working okay?” Gideon asks. 

Harrow shakes her head. “No.” She purses her lips. “The local IT guy is out of town and I can’t find any answers online.” 

“I could help. Kinda got good with computers at school, as a weird hobby, I guess.” They rub the back of their head as Harrow sizes them up, then finally nods. 

“Okay.” 

Gideon spends a whole weekend on it, with Harrow pretending they’re not there while she putters around the store doing inventory and Lola tangling herself around Gideon’s legs, pretending to be a puppy. She barks and Gideon pats her head. 

“Good dog,” they say, distracted by a complicated line of code.

Gideon finds the problem, fixes it with only a bit of regret that their time with Harrow and Lola is now spent up, and Harrow pays them with a basket full of gourmet baking ingredients and two boxes of the honeycomb Gideon is convinced they’re now addicted to. 

“The ingredients are for Abigail,” Harrow says, her voice sharp. 

Her eyes are decidedly less so, almost soft around the edges, and her beautifully bowed mouth is curled up, just a bit at the corners. 

“So I gathered, oh grumpy one.” 

“Grumpy,” Lola echoes, then yips.

Harrow rolls her eyes at Gideon and pushes them towards the door, her small hands warm on their back even through the fabric of their shirt. 

It’s dark outside but the light from the single streetlamp in the parking lot glints in Harrow’s dark eyes as she leans against the door jamb and looks at Gideon. 

“Thank you for your help.” 

Harrow sounds sincere, and she looks sincere, and Gideon feels like it’s some sort of trap but they tilt an invisible hat at her anyway. 

“‘S nothin’ ma’am,” they say. 

Harrow’s serious mask cracks for just a second and she smiles, really smiles, and laughs a little and Gideon feels their heart pounding in their chest like they’re on the verge of a heart attack. 

“See you around, Harrow,” they say, pulling the basket more tightly into their arms. 

“Goodnight.” 

There’s a high pitched bark from inside the store and Gideon looks to see Lola in the window, pawing at the glass with one of her sweet grins on her face. 

“Bye, Lola,” Gideon calls. 

They wave and she barks again, wiggling in her place. Harrow shuts and locks the door but Gideon can hear her laugh as she walks towards Lola and scoops her up into her arms. Gideon fights the urge to stay and watch them a little longer and walks to their rental instead, trying to commit the vision of Harrow and her daughter to memory. 

When Harrow’s alternator goes out, Gideon offers to be her chauffeur for a few days while her car is in the shop and even though Harrow resists at first, she gives in after Gideon promises to keep quiet on their drives. Their first order of business is to drive an hour to the next town over so Harrow can pick up an order of honey from a local beekeeper. Gideon packs them all sandwiches, which Harrow tells them is completely unnecessary, which Gideon soundly ignores. 

Lola loves the rental car, especially the automatic windows, and it turns out that the sound of rushing wind is great at helping Gideon keep their promises. They don’t talk, but they do watch Harrow from the corner of their eye and see her cheeks grow pink with the cold rush of air. Lola pants out the window.

“Honey,” Harrow says, twisting around in her seat to try and talk some sense into the three year old. “You’ll get icky bugs in your mouth.” 

Lola looks at Harrow in horror, all wide eyes and her tongue still drooping from her mouth. “Bugs,” she says. “Icky bugs.” 

Her eyes shimmer and she bursts into tears without warning and Harrow looks at Gideon and rolls her eyes a little bit before remembering that Gideon is the enemy here and turning back to her daughter. 

“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Harrow coos in a soothing voice. She reaches out and rubs Lola’s knee. “It’s alright. There are no bugs in here right now. We should just keep our faces inside the car with our mouths closed, okay?” 

Lola cries a little bit more and Harrow eventually climbs into the backseat to sit with her and then Gideon can really watch her, using the rearview mirror to help. It’s distracting, almost to the point of a problem, to see Harrow like this. She’s all soft and gentle where she’s normally hard edges and irritation. She holds Lola’s hand and counts her fingers and presses her thumb into Lola’s soft, chubby palms and eventually makes Lola laugh so hard she forgot all about the icky bugs. Gideon’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of their chest. Their smile grows and grows until their cheeks hurt and then Harrow catches their eyes in the reflection of the mirror and for a minute, no time has passed. Gideon and Harrow are Gideon and Harrow again. Her face is open and she smiles back and her smile is akin to soft. Gideon holds their breath, sure if they move or say anything, it’ll spook Harrow, like she’s a deer or something. Then Lola growls and the spell is broken as Harrow turns her attention back to her daughter. 

Gideon tries to joke around with her when they get to their destination but she’s not having it. She conducts her business and Gideon helps her carry the second crate of honey to the car and then they all load back in and drive home together in silence. Lola falls asleep halfway home and Gideon eyes Harrow’s hand where it rests on her leg, fingers clenched into the soft trousers she’s wearing, and desperately wishes they could hold it, if only to remember the feel of her small palm against their own. But Harrow’s body language is all wrong, stiff and tense, as if she’s holding something together. So they don’t and then the drive is over and Gideon leaves Harrow and Lola at their house with a smile and a wave and the feeling that they’ve messed up somehow. 

Harrow calls Gideon one afternoon and asks if they’d like to meet her and Lola at the park. They accept immediately and lock up the clinic without finishing their paperwork. It’ll wait. They’re not sure why Harrow invited them but they’re also not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Lola runs up to Gideon excitedly when they show up and hands them a handful of bark that she’d taken from the playground. 

“What’s this?” Gideon asks.

“Chocolate,” Lola answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “For mama.” 

Gideon nods at Lola’s sage wisdom and follows her to the blanket Harrow is sitting on. Harrow puts down the book she was thumbing through and gives Gideon a tight smile. 

“Thanks for coming. Lola wanted to see you.” 

“Hell, I could use a day at the park,” Gideon says, taking a seat next to Harrow and reclining to lean on one arm. 

The sky is gray and heavy with rain clouds that haven’t burst yet and they squint up at it, feeling Harrow’s eyes on them. 

“Mama,” Lola says before reaching down and grabbing Gideon’s wrist. “A treat.”

“Oh, right.” Gideon opens their hand and holds the wood chips out to Harrow. “Chocolate. From the finest playground in Drearburh.” 

Harrow’s eyebrows lift and she takes a couple from their palm. “Oh, you really shouldn’t have.” 

Lola watches as Harrow pretends to eat them, slyly tossing the wood over her shoulder. “Those were so yummy, Lola,” Harrow says, before sweeping an arm around her and pulling her close. She snuffles at Lola’s neck a little. “You’re the sweetest. Thank you, pea.” 

Lola laughs and squirms, wiggling her way out of Harrow’s arms. “That tickles, mama,” she giggles. 

Harrow lets her go and Lola is off like a rocket, running back towards the playground. Harrow and Gideon watch her quietly for a couple of minutes, before they turn back towards each other. 

“So,” Gideon says.

“So.” 

“You come here often?” 

Harrow rolls her eyes and picks her book back up, opening it to the bookmarked spot. “When Lola wants.” 

She’s not in a teasing mood, it seems. 

Gideon doesn’t mind. They lay back and watch Harrow read. It feels like the autumn after high school, when they’d meet up at the park and sit together in silence and it felt like the whole world was holding its breath waiting for them to get out of this shit-hole town. There’s a sad nostalgia to it that Gideon can’t seem to work out and they’re not even sure they want to. If they can just be here, with Harrow, that’s enough. They watch her some more. She seems to be unaware, at first, but then she shifts and tucks a stray piece of short hair behind her ear and rubs the page between her fingers and sighs and eventually sets the book back down to look at Gideon impatiently. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Gideon says, sitting up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harrow’s expression is hard to parse, caught somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. She rubs her cheek. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Gideon ducks their head and blushes. “No. Sorry.” 

Harrow shifts her body away so Gideon can only see her profile, and picks up her book again. They’re silent together for the rest of the time at the park, only talking when Lola comes over with a bug or a rock or a cool stick that she found (which Gideon is forced to admit is actually really cool). Gideon feels completely lost and a little sick about it but doesn’t have the words to tell Harrow what they’d really been thinking about. An hour later, Harrow folds up the blanket and tucks her book back in her bag along with the little baggies of snacks she’d brought for Lola, then picks her yawning daughter up and holds her on her hip. Gideon reaches for the bag or the blanket or even Lola but Harrow shakes her head. 

“I’ve got it.” 

“Okay. Can I walk you to your car?” 

Harrow tilts her head a little, then shakes her head again. “No, thank you.” 

“Okay.” Gideon puts their hands in their pockets. 

“Goodbye, Gideon,” Harrow says. 

Before Gideon can answer, she walks away, whispering softly to Lola. Gideon watches them until they disappear beyond a copse of trees. Harrow was always stubborn but this feels different. Not like Gideon could say anything about stubbornness.

When they get home, they ask Magnus if Harrow’s pregnancy was difficult and Magnus says, “Everything was difficult for her, for a while. But she managed and she’s doing great now.” 

Gideon sits in that, thinks about how they could have been there for Harrow but weren’t, and it makes their stomach turn. 

“I should have come home sometime,” they say, almost to themself.

“We sure would have liked to see you,” Magnus says. “I know Harrow probably felt the same way.” 

His honesty is painful but Gideon is grateful for it. There was a time, six years ago, when they wouldn’t have felt that way, when they would have fought it because everything they wanted seemed so much more important to them than it really was. But now? They’re glad to be called out about it. 

“I’m sorry.” Gideon’s apology is sincere and Magnus just pats their knee. “I’ve been a total shit head.” 

“Yeah, but everyone is at one point or another.” 

Gideon is positive no one has been as much of a shit head as they’ve been but they just smile at Magnus and give Abigail a big hug when she comes in to join them. They spend the rest of the night watching Magnus’s show together and go to bed feeling a little less like a failure. 

***

These days of favors repeat themselves, with Gideon helping Harrow and Harrow allowing it with a little resistance and Gideon thinks that maybe they’re starting to mend things between them. Harrow is warmer, most of the time, and Lola seems to like them quite a bit, so it can’t be all bad. Sometimes, Harrow shuts down a little but Gideon doesn’t push. It’s Harrow’s way. Gideon really likes the rhythm they’ve found, the ease in this sort-of-almost friendship with her, the way it flows like it’s meant to be, simple and easy, until it’s not anymore. 

*** 

Gideon begs Abigail to invite Harrow and Lola to dinner and she does and Harrow and Lola come and it’s only a little bit awkward. Harrow is reserved, at first, and Lola is not, still in puppy mode, and she winds herself around everyone’s ankles beneath the kitchen table as they have stilted conversation between bites of food. Magnus seems completely at ease, the only one besides the toddler, watching Gideon and Harrow with a pleased expression on his face. Abigail looks as if she wants to strangle him. 

After dinner, while Abigail is plating dessert, Lola climbs into Gideon’s lap and lays her head against their shoulder and at first, Gideon is stiff about it, but then Lola grabs their hand and looks at their knuckle tattoos and smiles up at them. She looks just like Harrow in that moment and tears prick at the corners of Gideon’s eyes until they have to blink and look away. 

The conversation begins to flow a little easier as they eat the rich cake Abigail had baked. Harrow asks for her recipe and Abigail goes back to the kitchen to pull the recipe card for her. Magnus turns to Gideon and asks, “How’s the digital filing system coming along? Any problems?”

“Good,” Gideon says, swallowing a bite. “I’m almost done, actually. Turned out to be easier than I thought it would be.” 

“I will certainly miss having you around to help keep my files in order,” Magnus says wistfully. “Do you have to go so soon?”

Gideon isn’t sure how to answer that and from the corner of their eye, they see Harrow stiffen slightly and she clears her throat before taking a sip of water. 

Abigail steps into the dining room before they can say anything and pushes Magnus’s shoulder gently. “I’m sure Camilla will be glad to have you back, Gideon,” she assures them, reaching across the table to rub Gideon’s arm gently. “Your father really appreciates all of your help.” 

Gideon glances at Harrow who won’t meet their eyes.

Harrow steers herself out of Gideon’s orbit after that, not talking to them unless she absolutely has to and taking Lola from their arms when they all move to the living room for coffee. Lola sleeps soundly against her shoulder and Harrow rubs her cheek idly against her silky hair while she listens to Gideon and Magnus discussing the merits of this lure versus that one. 

Gideon walks Harrow to her car quietly and waits as she buckles Lola into her carseat. Lola stirs a little, opens her eyes tiredly and waves at Gideon before falling asleep again almost instantly. 

“She sleeps like me,” Gideon jokes. “One second of laying down and she’s out.” 

Harrow shuts the door quietly, then turns on them. “What exactly are you playing at?” 

Gideon furrows their eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“All of this,” Harrow says, stopping to snort in frustration. “This… this helping .” Her volume rises at the end of the sentence and Gideon takes a small step backward in shock. 

“Can’t I help an old friend?” 

Harrow opens her eyes really wide and looks at Gideon, really looks at Gideon, clearly trying to communicate something to them. Gideon feels confusion sweep through them, icy and a little humiliating, and holds their hands out. 

“What, Harrow? Just fucking say it,” they plead. 

“The answer, Gideon Nav, is no .” 

“No, I can’t help you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes, I can help you?” Gideon is even more confused now.

Harrow stomps her foot a little and it's a familiar action, so young and immature, that Gideon can’t help but smile. Their smile falters and drops, though, when Harrow glares up at them. The rage in her expression is unmistakable.

“You don’t get to come back here after six years,” Harrow starts. “ Six years ! Of not being around, and just pretend that we’re okay again because you offer me a few favors and because my kid – who doesn’t exactly have discerning taste, for the record – seems to like you.” 

Gideon holds their hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Harrow. I wasn’t trying to–”

Harrow cuts them off with a sharp gesture. “Fuck off, Gideon. My life doesn’t include you anymore.” There are tears in her eyes now and she swipes at them angrily. “You know what? I waited. I fucking waited for you. Like an idiot. I thought you’d come back at some point. After a year, I finally convinced myself that you wouldn’t. Especially when I found out you hadn’t even been back to see Magnus and Abigail. What the fuck, Gideon? How could you just throw us all away like that?” 

Harrow is fully crying now and Gideon is standing there like an idiot, watching her cry. They reach for her but Harrow shrugs their hands away and steps back. 

“No.” 

“I’m sorry, Harrow.” 

“Stop apologizing to me.” 

“But I am sorry. I am. I’m not trying to pretend I didn’t do anything.” 

“That’s exactly what you’re trying to do,” Harrow insists, the tears streaming freely. “You think you can come back and you can be your usual, charming, handsome self and I’ll just forgive you for abandoning me like that?” 

“No – what? No. Harrow. I know I fucked up.” 

“You sure fucking did,” Harrow says, rubbing her cheeks. The tears don’t stop. “What am I supposed to tell Lola when you leave?”

Gideon hadn’t thought of that and it stops them cold. “She won’t remember me.” 

“She remembers everyone , you dumbass. She remembers the fucking mailman.” 

It’s there, in the quiet cul-de-sac, standing in Magnus’s and Abigail’s driveway and listening to Harrow cry softly, that the full weight of Gideon’s actions become apparent. Harrow is right. They have no right to sweep in and try to insert themselves again as if they hadn’t left in the first place. As if they hadn’t abandoned her or their parents or the town that they’d lived in for their whole life. The truth of it sits heavy and solid like a bad meal in their stomach. They rub their hands down their face and push their fingers into their hair and wish that they knew what to say besides I’m sorry . 

“Harrow,” they say and it makes them feel more sick because they’re just saying her name on repeat now like it’s an apology in and of itself. “I was so wrong to leave back then. I was so stupid.” Harrow doesn’t say anything, her eyes trained on the ground with her hands still pressed to her cheeks. “I know I hurt you and Magnus and Abigail and there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for that now.” 

“So stop trying,” Harrow says heatedly. “I don’t need you and neither does Lola. We’ve done perfectly fine on our own. We really don’t need anyone. Not you, not Ianthe, not Magnus or Abigail.” 

She pauses when she realizes what she said and it sinks into both of them like a cold rain. Gideon shivers. 

“Ianthe,” they echo. “Lola is Ianthe’s.” 

Harrow bristles, straightening, her face suddenly stoney. Were it not for the tear tracks still on her face, Gideon would think she was perfectly fine. “Yes. Okay. The secret is out.” 

“What happened?” Gideon asks.

Harrow shuts her eyes and rubs her temples, then says, “I had a weird thing with Ianthe. Huge mistake. When I found out I was pregnant, I told her she didn’t have to stay and she didn’t want a kid anyway, so here we are. It was fine, amicable even. And that’s been good for me. Good for both of us.” 

“Ianthe knows. And she didn’t want to stick around?” They can’t make this fit.

“It’s not like she abandoned us.” There’s implications here and Gideon doesn’t like them. 

Gideon shakes their head. “Still. She just didn’t want a kid? Didn’t want Lola?” 

“Stop trying to make this into something it’s not, Gideon. She’s not the villain here.” 

“I just can’t make it make sense.” 

“Well, then,” Harrow says tiredly. “I guess it’s a good thing that it’s not yours to make sense of.” 

They fall silent then and Harrow sniffs miserably and the upstairs lights in the house come on as Magnus and Abigail get ready for bed. Gideon rubs their face again and presses the heels of their hands to their eyes until they see stars. They feel fragile in a way they haven’t in years, not since their first night alone in the city they left Drearburh for, not since they tried their fucking damndest to forget that Drearburh and Harrow and everything else that just felt like barbed wire in their veins ever existed.

“Fuck,” they murmur. “Fuck, Harrow. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“I think it’s best if you don’t come by the shop anymore,” Harrow says. “It’ll be easier on Lola when you leave.” 

Gideon can’t bring themselves to fight for it anymore because honestly? Harrow deserves more than this. 

“I won’t.” 

Harrow moves to get into her car but pauses halfway. She looks at Gideon and her dark eyes are still filled with tears but her face is resolute and strong. “I hope you know how much your parents have missed you. And I hope you won’t let them down again by avoiding coming back here.” 

Gideon can promise her that much. “I won’t.” 

“I know Drearburh wasn’t very kind to you,” Harrow continues. “It’s not very kind to almost anyone, but that doesn’t make you the exception. We–” Harrow stops, like she’s choking on something bitter. “ They ,” she gestures towards the lit windows, “deserve more than that.” 

Harrow doesn’t say anything else. She looks at Gideon, though, and her expression is completely unreadable. There’s a heaviness in her mouth and the way her eyes seem tight at the corners and the set of her jaw but she doesn’t look angry. Maybe just resigned. Then Harrow climbs into her car the rest of the way, turns the ignition on, and drives off. Gideon watches until her headlights fade and the feeling that everything inside of them might collapse at any moment grows and grows and they think maybe it’ll swallow them whole and Drearburh with them.

***

Magnus comes out to the porch to sit with Gideon a couple of weeks later. He’s been giving Gideon a wide berth since the fight with Harrow, and Abigail along with him, but the solitude has begun to feel like a bruise that won’t heal. Magnus takes their hand and it’s very fatherly and comforting and Gideon can’t stop the onslaught of tears that comes with it. 

“I really messed up,” Gideon says, their voice thick. 

Magnus doesn’t say anything and when Gideon looks at him, he’s staring off past the shrubs at the end of the yard, out to the water that’s covered in creeping mist. He shrugs a little and squeezes Gideon’s hand. 

“Maybe.” 

“No. I really did.” 

Magnus looks at Gideon then and his brown eyes are very kind. “Harrow has been alone for a long time. Even before you left.” 

Gideon looks out at the water too. “Yeah, and then I went and made it worse.” 

“That’s life. Sometimes we hurt the people we love. All we can do is apologize and try not to do it again and then the rest is up to them.” They’re quiet for a long time, then Magnus pats Gideon’s knee in that same fatherly way, and stands. “You’re a good kid. You’ve really tried to help and make it up to her. Sometimes, that’s just not enough and that’s okay. She has a lot of reasons to be hurt.” 

“And I’m just supposed to go and pretend that none of this happened?” 

“Well, your mother and I hope you’ll come back and visit but you have to do what’s best for you. And we’d understand either way.” 

He walks back inside and Gideon listens to the screen door bounce on its hinges as it shuts behind him. Alone again, Gideon scrubs their hands down their face and slumps down against the bench until their back aches. They replay the last couple of months in their head, pulling apart every conversation, every look, every time they were in Harrow’s presence, trying to get a read on how she really feels and if it’s all futile anyway. In the end, they feel more confused than ever and they pull their phone from their pocket to call Camilla, their voice of reason. 

“I’m kinda busy,” she answers.

“With what?” 

Camilla doesn’t answer, just sighs and covers the phone and Gideon can hear her muffled explanation to someone, then the rustle of fabric against the microphone, and finally Camilla comes back.

“Were you in bed with Palamedes?” Gideon asks, scandalized.

“We were in bed. We weren’t doing anything,” Camilla says. “Unclench, Nav. What do you need?”

“I feel… stuck.” 

Camilla snickers a little and Gideon frowns. “Okay. What do you mean by that?” 

“What do I do about Harrow?” Gideon asks. “How do I fix things?” 

“I can’t tell you that. Only you can figure that out.” 

“But you know everything.” 

“Gideon,” Camilla says in a firm voice. “I can’t fix this for you.” 

Gideon wonders for a moment about what could possibly make this right. If abandoning their home and family and Harrow caused all the pain, maybe staying could undo the pain. Or, at the very least, ease it. 

“Maybe I should stay.” 

There’s a long pause and Gideon can imagine Cam’s face right now, stoic and straight and maybe even a touch bored because Gideon is always looking for Cam’s help. 

“Do you want to stay?” 

“I don’t know. Do I?” 

Another voice comes on the line. “Gideon, leave my wife out of this. You’re a grown up. You can figure this out.” 

“Thanks, Pal,” Gideon sneers but it’s Camilla who answers them back.

“He’s right, though. I love you. You know this. But you have to make the best decision for you. And I know it’ll be the right one.” 

“Will it?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Camilla hangs up without fanfare and Gideon ponders her question. Do they want to stay? 

They lay down on the bench, legs dangling over the armrest, and they actually think about it, give it a real thorough going over. The obvious draw is Harrow. They really want to say yes, because she’s here and they aren’t. 

But as they think about their time here and the possibility of staying versus what feels like the inevitability of leaving, their thoughts unwind a little and they think about late nights with Magnus watching baseball and making dessert with Abigail and helping them with their garden. They think about the diner, and their favorite waitress, the one who always gives them extra whipped cream. They think about the patients that they’ve helped and the way the water looks when the sun is out and the smell of the rain, heavy on the air, and the mist that secretly freaks them out to drive in. They think about the city park, decorated for holidays and festivals and the way the whole town came together to save the small fishing company that was under threat of closing down, because those were family members and friends and loved ones that would lose their jobs and their way of life here. They imagine going fishing again with Magnus and this time appreciating their quiet moments together out on the water. 

There’s a thought, then, just a whisper really, that maybe Gideon had it all wrong about Drearburh. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the dead end they thought it was. 

It occurs to Gideon that leaving might have gotten them to where they are now and they can’t regret that but staying might be what gets them to where they’re supposed to be. Harrow or not, Drearburh feels like home in a way the city never did. 

The decision is easy, after all that. 

Gideon cries again, laying on the splintered wooden bench that desperately needs to be sanded and stained and thinks that they’ll do it for Magnus and Abigail, that they’d do anything for Magnus and Abigail, if only they’ll let Gideon stay. 

***

Gideon gives it a couple of days to sink in and make sure they feel right about it all before they say anything. Then Gideon calls Camilla back who answers with, “This better be important.” 

“It is. Promise.” 

They explain what happened and how they’ve been feeling and tell Camilla that they’ll help her find a new partner to help run the clinic in Gideon’s place and won’t move until they’ve done that. 

“You think I really need your help that much?” Camilla says, but there’s teasing in her voice and Gideon grins. 

“Probably not. You’re the most in demand therapist in town. But I’ll help you anyway.” 

“Tell you what, Nav. If I can’t find a replacement by the time you’re meant to come back, then I’ll take you up on that. If I can, then you’re home free.” 

Home. The word sends a jolt of joy through Gideon’s veins. 

“You’ve got a deal.” They pause, then ask hesitantly, “You and Pal will come visit, right?” 

“Of course we will,” Palamedes says, his voice distant. 

“Am I on speaker?” 

“Obviously,” Camilla deadpans. When she speaks again, her voice is warm. “I’m really happy for you, Gideon. Can’t say I won’t miss you, but I’m happy for you.” 

“Don’t be such a sap. I might get the wrong impression.” 

They talk through some of Gideon’s appointments and the need to reschedule them and when they hang up, Gideon’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

Abigail cries and Magnus hugs Gideon tightly when they break the news to them and ask in a quiet voice if it’s okay for them to stay, at least until they find their own place. 

“Of course it’s okay,” Abigail finally says, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to ask to come home.” 

“And you’re sure you can use me in the clinic?” they ask Magnus. 

“I’m not ready to retire or anything, but there is plenty of work and it’ll be nice to have more days off,” Magnus assures them. “I’d love to work with you. I hear Naberius Tern would like it, too.” 

Gideon grins. “I’m sure he’s sung my praises.” 

Abigail makes their favorite cake for dessert to celebrate and that night, Gideon goes to bed almost giddy with happiness, which is a feeling they really weren’t sure they were capable of experiencing anymore. 

***

The date of Gideon’s flight back to the city comes and goes and Cam has almost too much success finding a replacement for Gideon. She offers to meet up with Gideon when they’re ready to sublet their apartment and help them pack up to move but tells them that she’ll just gather their mail in the meantime. 

“How’re things with Harrow?” Camilla asks. 

Gideon closes their eyes. It’s the one blight on their happiness: Harrow doesn’t know that they’ve decided to stay. They worry what her reaction will be but have talked themselves into staying anyway. There’s enough room in this town for both of them.

“We haven’t talked since that night,” Gideon answers. “I don’t know how to tell her.” 

“You’re not doing it just for her, right?” 

“Right. I am really happy here.”

“Well, she can’t fault you for finding your happiness.” 

“She can if it means she has to see me on a daily basis,” Gideon says. 

“Harrow needs that much physical therapy, does she?” Camilla asks. Gideon can picture her, eyebrow cocked, head tilted at the stupidity of the idea. 

“Listen. I just don’t want to hurt her more by being here.” 

“Then don’t. Let her come to you if and when she’s ready.” 

Still, Gideon thinks after they hang up, they should probably warn Harrow somehow. Maybe with a nice card or a bouquet of flowers or something like that. They mull it over in their heads as they pack their lunch and get ready to leave for work.

Turns out the answer is more simple than they realized. 

***

Harrow comes into the clinic a couple of days later looking hot and furious, her eyes blazing. 

“You’re still here?” she asks, pointing at their sack lunch on the desk and the half eaten sandwich in their hands.

Gideon hears Magnus chuckle in the back room before he enters, leaning on his cane. “Good to see you, Harrowhark.” 

Harrow blanches and takes a step back, her features schooling into a more neutral expression. “Sorry about that, Magnus. I’m glad to see you’re doing better.” 

“Just about back on my feet. Came in to help Gideon with some of the paperwork I’m sure has been plaguing them.” Magnus gathers up the files Gideon had been digitizing and waves them away when they stand to help. “I’m just going to take these into the back and work on them. Don’t let me bother you two.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Harrow insists, her face going a little pale. “It’s fine. I was just about to go anyway.” 

“Yeah, Magnus, it’s cool. Just stay,” Gideon says. 

“No, I really think I should go. You don’t have to keep talking but I’m gonna get out of your hair.” 

He leaves without saying anything else and Harrow and Gideon watch him go into the back office, then come around the side of the building with a wave as he climbs into his car to go. 

“He really just left,” Harrow says, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

 Gideon fights the urge to giggle out of nervousness and nods solemnly. “Magnus is just like that sometimes.” 

Their words seem to break Harrow out of her stare and she turns to them with that fury again, hot  and radiant. “Why are you still here? You were supposed to leave three days ago.” 

“How did you know I stayed?” 

“I’m not an idiot, Gideon,” Harrow snaps. “I saw your dumb rental car tooling around town and then it was out front of the clinic. It doesn’t take a nuclear scientist to put two and two together.” 

Gideon sets their sandwich down and stands, holding their hands out in surrender. “Listen–” they start but Harrow holds a hand up to stop them.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Harrow’s voice is trembling and before she can say anything else, she bursts into tears, loud sobs wracking her thin, narrow shoulders. Gideon looks at her helplessly and wonders if they should try to hug her or offer her a hanky or something. She cries hard for a few moments, then looks at Gideon with tears streaming down her face and a mouth twisted in anger. 

“You were supposed to go. You were supposed to leave again.” 

“Is that what you what?” Gideon asks. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Harrow snarls. “Yes. Fuck. I don’t know.” 

Gideon takes a small step towards Harrow. She doesn’t stop them. She just looks at Gideon miserably, her cheeks colored with bright splotches of red, her eyes those fathomless black pools that Gideon always loved so much. It occurs to them then that Harrow could use some clarity about why they decided to stay. 

“Harrow, I’m not staying because of you.” 

Harrow’s eyes narrow and she sniffles, then wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Gideon reaches down and pulls a crumpled napkin from the paper bag and hands it to her. She blows and balls it up and shoves it in her pocket. 

“Then why are you staying?”

“I love it here.” 

When Harrow bursts into disbelieving laughter, it’s just as startling as her tears were, though the fit is much shorter and then she looks at Gideon with scorn in her eyes and the remnants of hiccuping laughter and sobs coming from her chest. 

“What?” she asks.

“I didn’t realize what Drearburh meant to me until I came back. Cliche, I know. But it’s the truth.” 

Harrow looks at Gideon, her mouth serious and her eyes full of questions. But they’re questions she doesn’t say out loud and Gideon doesn’t ask her to.

“Anyway, I’m going to move back and see how things go. But you don’t have to see me. Not if you don’t want to and not any more than we normally would just, like, running into each other. I promised I wouldn’t bother you and Lola and I’ll keep that promise.” 

Harrow makes a noise that sounds strangely like a protest and looks away. Gideon can almost hear the gears turning in her head and then there’s a slow settling of something in her body language and she looks back at Gideon. 

“Fine. Well, then. I guess that’s settled,” Harrow says and her voice is rough with tears. “Please don’t come by my shop.”

“Already said I wouldn’t,” Gideon says.

Harrow turns on her heel and moves to the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. Then she stops and looks at them one last time, her eyes unreadable. She doesn’t say anything else, just leaves into the cold air and Gideon watches her go. 

***

Abigail hangs up the phone. “She said it’s fine.” 

“I can’t believe you’re making me go there,” Gideon complains. “She’ll probably poison the package before I pick it up.” 

“I’d leave if I could, but this is a very delicate bake and I have to keep my eyes on it.”

Gideon steps to the oven and peeks in through the glass. “I’ll watch it. See? I’m doing it now.” 

“Gideon,” Abigail says in a voice that tells them she’s over the conversation. “I promise, it’ll be okay. Harrow is perfectly professional. You can just pay and leave.” 

Gideon drives as slow as they dare to the small shop, then they sit in the car for a full minute before they get out, just trying to talk themself down from the heights of anxiety. They can’t see into the shop, can’t see if Harrow is already waiting for them at the counter or by the door or anything, so they take a deep breath and head inside. 

Harrow is, indeed, waiting at the counter for them. She holds out the package of chocolate wordlessly and Gideon takes it and equally as wordlessly hands them a handful of bills that may or may not be exact. Harrow rings it up and deposits the cash into the register, then passes over a couple of dollars in change. Their fingers meet and Gideon expects Harrow to pull aways instantly but she doesn’t and neither do they and for a second, they’re just standing there, fingertips touching over the wad of paper in their hands. 

“She’s making mille feuille?” Harrow asks.

“She is.” 

Harrow finally lets go and folds her arms across her chest, her fingers clenching into a fist. “Her mille feuille is the best.” 

Gideon furrows their eyebrows but nods in agreement. “It really is.” 

“Will you ask her if I can have a piece?”

“You can ask her yourself, nutjob,” Gideon says before they can stop themself. 

Harrow looks startled at the jab and for a second, her face screws up like she’s about to say something nasty in return, but instead a giggle squeaks out and Gideon laughs too, if not a little awkwardly. Harrow giggles a little more, covering her face and looking away, before she straightens and forces her expression to something more serious, but there’s still a twitch in her mouth that tells Gideon she’s not fully successful. 

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll pass on your request to Abs.” 

“Thank you, Griddle.” 

It’s not until hours later that Gideon realizes Harrow used their nickname and that feels something like hope. They carefully package the feeling up and tuck it away for later. 

***

When Gideon answers their phone a week later, they’re surprised to see Harrow’s number on the screen. 

“Hello?” they answer hesitantly. 

“Gideon, I need your help. I’m sorry to ask. You were my last resort.”

“Gee, Harrow, way to make a guy feel special.” 

Harrow scoffs. “It’s nothing personal. I’m just not used to you being around.” 

It stings, more than it should, but Gideon gives it to Harrow anyway. 

“What’s up?” 

“One of my suppliers has a large shipment for me but their truck broke down on the way here and it’s perishable items so I have to go pick it up. I would ask you to go but I have to sign for it because it’s liquor related and…” she breaks off and huffs in frustration. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I just need you to watch Lola for like three or four hours while I go pick it up. Are you available right now?” 

Gideon grins so big they’re worried they pulled a muscle in their jaw. “Sure, I can watch Lola.” 

“You can do it at our place, so she has all her toys and things.”

“I’ll be there in a few.”  

Harrow’s house is small and neatly painted with flowers planted along the low wooden porch. She’s waiting outside with Lola who waves excitedly as Gideon pulls up and gets out. Gideon steps up to the gate and Lola starts running toward them as fast as her tiny legs will carry her. When they meet, Gideon sweeps her up into their arms and onto their shoulders as she squeals in delight. 

“Griddle!” 

The familiar nickname makes Gideon want to cry. They look at Harrow in question as she joins them. 

“She was struggling with Gideon, so I taught her Griddle,” she says primly. 

It’s enough for Gideon. They hold their keys out with one hand and hold Lola steady with the other. 

“You wanna take my rental? It’s got a big trunk,” Gideon offers. 

Harrow looks at it and back at Gideon. “Are you sure?” 

“Yop. I just filled it up.” 

Harrow takes the keys in her hand and looks down at them, blinking furiously. “Okay,” she says, her voice small. She clears her throat, then looks up at Lola. “You be good, okay, Lols?” 

“Okay, mama.” 

“Listen to Griddle. And no tantrums.” 

Lola kisses her fingers and waves them at Harrow who takes it as her cue to leave. 

“Emergency numbers are on the fridge. She already ate, but might want to nap in an hour or so. You can just put her in her room and let her do her thing. She’s good about it. Call me if you need anything.”

Gideon reaches out and clasps her shoulder. Harrow looks at their hand, then back up at their face and she’s blushing. Gideon lets go. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”  

Watching Lola is very easy. She’s cake. She putters around Harrow’s small living room and plays with her toys and feeds Gideon fake food until she starts to yawn an hour or so into Harrow being gone. 

“Sleepy,” she mumbles, and rubs her eyes.

“You wanna take a nap?” Gideon asks her and she nods tiredly. 

Gideon scoops her up and walks down the hall, peeking into open doors until they find a nursery decorated in grays and blues with fluffy cloud lights hanging from the ceiling. They set Lola on her bed and she immediately lays down, curling up and clutching a small brown bunny in her arms. Gideon crouches next to her and strokes her hair until her heavy eyelids close completely and her breaths come more steadily. Then they stay a little while longer and watch her sleep. She’s red-cheeked and Gideon can see Ianthe in her now that they know the truth. Her nose is more sloped like Ianthe’s and this close, Gideon can see that her coloring is more similar to Ianthe as well. But the rest of her is all Harrow. Gideon wishes they’d been around when she was born. There’s no going back, but damn if they don’t regret ever leaving Drearburh. 

Gideon leaves quietly, shutting the door almost all of the way. There’s a room to the left of Lola’s that they glance into, with a huge fluffy bed and dark painted walls. Gideon is positive it’s Harrow’s room, so they leave it despite the itching curiosity that they have at what lays inside. They wander back down the hall, looking at the few pictures Harrow has hanging. Some are of her with Lola at various stages of Lola’s short life so far. Harrow looks so proud in the hospital, with Lola bundled up in her arms, tiny mother and tinier baby, and Gideon has to swallow past the unexpected lump in their throat as they study the picture. There are photos of birthdays and holidays and one of Lola dressed up and painted like a teeny skeleton for Halloween. 

There are other pictures there, too, pictures of Harrow when she was younger. Some are with her parents. Some are with friends and classmates. There is one, though, that stops Gideon in their tracks. They look at it, the lump in their throat growing. It’s of Harrow and Gideon, a candid picture, taken at some barbeque some summer. Harrow is uncharacteristically tan and wrapped around Gideon, sitting on their lap with her arms around their neck. She’s laughing and Gideon is looking at her, so stupid in love it makes their stomach twist to look at it. 

Gideon wonders when it was taken, filtering back through the memories of their summers with Harrow. It must have been the summer they worked at a nearby camp. They’d done it once and once only, both of them so exhausted at season’s end that they vowed never to work with kids again. But Harrow had been great with the kids as arts and crafts teacher and Gideon had secretly loved scaring everyone with spooky stories around the campfire each night. They gently take the frame from its place on the wall and into the kitchen where the light is better, then remove the photo from behind the glass and take a picture of it before replacing it on the wall. Then they go to sit in one of Harrow’s armchairs and cry. 

When Harrow returns a few hours later, Lola is awake again and snacking happily on apple slices and Gideon is watching her eat with the lump still stuck in their throat. Harrow comes inside looking wind-chapped and a little tired and drops her bag on the ground unceremoniously before kneeling by Lola and pushing her face against her hair. She’s quiet for a long moment, just inhaling as Lola patiently eats and watches the noisy show playing on the TV. Gideon watches her and all they want is to be part of that, to wrap their own arms around Harrow and around Lola and breathe them in and erase their past. But they can’t, so they stand uncomfortably and tell Harrow that they’ll get out of her hair. Harrow nods and pulls back from Lola, kissing her on the head, then stands and follows Gideon to the door. They stand together in front of the screen and the cold seeps into the entryway and subconsciously they move closer to one another.

Harrow looks beautiful in the dim evening light with her red-tipped nose from the cold and her serious mouth and her endlessly dark eyes. 

“Thank you, Gideon,” she says. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Gideon means it, but what they really want to say is how much they wish they could take it all back.

“Well, I’m thanking you anyway.” 

Harrow smiles up at them and it’s genuine and it’s soft and her house is warm and so are her eyes and Gideon wants to drown in her so badly that they feel lightheaded. They think, for one absolutely insane moment, that all it would take to kiss Harrow is to bend down the few scant inches between them. They already know what her mouth feels like, but they’d love to rediscover the taste of it and the way her small body fits so perfectly to theirs and the way she goes pliant when they taste her deeply. Gideon is so swept up in the longing feeling that they don’t realize they’ve started crying until Harrow touches their cheek gently. 

“What happened?” she asks, her eyebrows pulled together. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, Harrow,” Gideon says pathetically. They don’t have the words, can’t find them right now. They’re lost to the feeling of Harrow’s cold fingertips against their skin.

“Griddle,” Harrow breathes, her palm coming to rest against the salty tracks. 

Gideon leans into it, eyes still on Harrow’s, then turns their head slightly and kisses the heel of Harrow’s hand. Her breath catches and her eyes grow impossibly darker, her lips parted just so. But there’s too much between them for Gideon to do anything other than want and so they just look at her with an aching heart. 

“I’ll never make it up to you, will I?” Gideon says, a statement disguised as a question, their lips still brushing Harrow’s hand. 

It’s honest, at least. 

Harrow looks at Gideon’s mouth, then meets their eyes again. “I – I don’t know.” 

It's just as honest and it hurts like a son of a bitch. Gideon nods and turns to leave. Harrow’s hand falls from their cheek and they ignore the urge to pick it back up and hold it still against their chest. 

“Gideon,” Harrow says as their hand meets the doorknob. “You don’t… I don’t know what I’d need for you to make it up to me. Not really.” 

Gideon looks at her. “That’s okay. You don’t have to let me try. I mean it. I’d like to. But, it’s okay if you don’t want that.” 

“I know.” 

Gideon pushes the door open and steps outside, then turns back to Harrow. “Let me know if you need another babysitter. I’m around.” 

Harrow doesn’t answer, just nods, and Gideon leaves. The big oak tree beckons to them from the yard when they get home and they move through the dark to stand in front of it and drag their fingers across the rough letters, memorizing the sting of splinters from the H and the G, and they swear the feeling goes straight to their heart. 

***

Gideon is deep asleep when they’re woken with a tapping on the window behind them a few nights later. They rouse themself from sleep and sit up, rubbing their eyes and listening to see if they hear it again or if it was a figment of their imagination. A few moments later, they hear it again, then another immediately after. Gideon swings their legs over the side of their bed and stands when a rock comes flying through their window, shattering the glass and scattering shards of it all over the floor. Gideon shrieks unhelpfully and jumps back, trying to avoid the shrapnel, and hears quiet cursing coming from the driveway. Gideon looks out to see Harrow standing there looking panicked. 

“What the fuck, Harrow?” they stage whisper out the window. 

She shrugs, her eyes panicked. 

Downstairs, they hear stirring as Magnus and Abigail are woken from sleep by the clatter. 

“It’s fine,” Gideon calls to Magnus. “Go back to bed. I’ll take care of it.” 

There’s mumbled swearing but Gideon hears the squeak of a bedframe and knows Magnus heard. They step gingerly onto their bed and down off the end to avoid the glass, then slip on the first pair of shoes they find and make their way downstairs, fully awake now from the light vandalism that just occurred. 

“Hey, Harrow,” Gideon says as they step outside. “There are these things, called cell phones. You ever heard of ‘em?” 

“I’m sorry,” Harrow says frantically. “That rock was bigger than it seemed.” She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. 

Gideon waves their hands. “It’s fine. It’s fine, Harrow.”

Harrow still looks upset, has begun pacing and mumbling to herself about how she just broke a window, so Gideon takes her by the shoulders and ducks a little to look her in the eyes and says, “Hey, it’s all good, sugarpuss.” 

“Sugar — sugarpuss,” Harrow echoes, horrified at the nickname. “What the fuck.” 

Gideon opens their mouth to apologize, to let her know that it was the first random nickname they could come up with, but Harrow just lets out a small burst of giggles that grows into a full fit of laughter. The sound echoes off the house and into the night sky and Gideon grabs at her to shush her with a hand across the mouth but Harrow keeps laughing anyway, her shoulders shaking beneath their arms as they steer her towards her waiting car. They get close and Harrow digs her heels in, wiping her eyes. She shakes her head and points to a small cropping of decorative boulders at the edge of the yard instead.

“No, not in there. Lola is sleeping.” 

“You left your child in the car to commit a crime?” Gideon asks.

“I can’t very well let her see me commit said crime, can I, Griddle?” 

“True. Not very cool of you as a mom, I guess.” The rocks are cold when they sit down and Gideon shivers as they fold their arms across their torso, trying to conserve their warmth. “So, why did you break my window anyway?”

 Now that they’re alone and Harrow is no longer laughing, she seems nervous again, folding her hands together one way, then the other. “Well.” 

“Well.” 

Harrow shoots Gideon a brief glare, then starts over. “I thought about what you said at my house the other night.” She lets out a breath. “I don’t know, Gideon. I really thought I was over it all.” 

Gideon snorts. “Turns out, we’re both stupid.” 

Harrow gives them a half smile. “Guess so.” 

Silence draws out between them and Gideon shifts on the cold stone. 

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” Gideon says.

“Wait,” Harrow says, holding her hand up to stop them from standing. “I’m not done yet.” 

“I’m not trying to rush you but I need you to spit it out. My ass is getting frostbite right now, Harrow.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I thought about it and what I’d need and I think I’d need this.” 

Harrow unfurls her fingers and reaches for Gideon and before Gideon can process what’s going on, she pulls them in and presses her mouth to theirs. They’re cold, but Harrow isn’t. She’s warm and her lips are a little chapped and her tongue - her tongue! - is hot where it presses gingerly against Gideon’s lips. They open their mouth willingly to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders and everything shifts into place in their head.

Harrow kisses Gideon for what feels like seconds and an eternity and when the two of them finally part, they’re both breathing more heavily than Gideon thinks is good for them. They swallow and Harrow sits back on her rock and looks at them with heated eyes and a nervous smile. 

“So,” Gideon starts, their voice breaking a little. They cleared their throat. “So, you need to kiss me. That’s how I make it up to you?”

Harrow rolls her eyes. “I realize the message could have been more clear.” 

“Yeah, I think I’m missing something. Not that I’m complaining.” 

“Let me put it into words.” Harrow steeples her fingers and points them at Gideon. “I think what I need is to start over with you.” 

Gideon hears the words and knows what they mean but they don’t quite come together in their brain, so they repeat them back to Harrow. “You need to start over with me.” 

“Yes, Griddle. I think… that is to say, I know , that I still love you. That despite the time and distance between us, despite the incredible hurt you caused me when you left, I really never stopped loving you.” 

“You love me?” Gideon asks, because that can’t have been what Harrow just said. 

“Gideon. Are you listening to me?” Harrow asks, exasperated, but smiling a little. 

“I’m doing my best, Harrow.” 

Gideon takes a breath and lets it out slowly, then slips from their rock to kneel at Harrow’s feet. Harrow looks at them, her eyes widening a little as they reach up to cup her jaw and pull her closer. 

“I love you, Harrowhark Nongesimus,” Gideon murmurs before gently kissing her mouth. It’s chaste and it’s brief but it carries with it all the love they have in their heart. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you and I’ll keep loving you long past this life. I’d love to start over with you.” 

Gideon kisses her again and feels Harrow smile before she mumbles against their lips, “I’m supposed to be the one with the romantic gestures.” 

“Yeah, well, get used to it.” 

When their lips meet a fourth time, it’s old and new at once. They taste her and drink her in and feel her melt against them as she drops down to kneel with them, wrapping her arms tightly around their torso. Then their kisses taste like salt and Gideon touches Harrow’s cheeks to feel the warm drip of tears there and Harrow lifts her hands to brush her thumbs against Gideon’s face and they realize they’re both crying. It’s been six years and it’s been no time at all and all that matters is that they’re together now. When they separate, Harrow wipes her face with the cuffs of her sleeves and laughs breathlessly before sighing. 

“I can’t pretend I’ll always be a good sport about it all. I’ll need to talk about it. My therapist said that’s good for me.” 

“Therapist,” Gideon says. They whistle lowly and Harrow gives them a dark look. “Of course. We can talk as much as you need. I’ll listen.” 

“And, we’ll need to take it slow. Lola likes you but I worry about her.” Gideon knows what Harrow is trying to say. 

“I don’t blame you. But Harrow, we can take it as slow as you want and need. I’m not looking to move in and marry you right away.” 

“Marry me?” Harrow makes a strangled sound, her cheeks going red even in the dark. “I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to imply – marry me?”

Gideon laughs softly. “Chill. I said we’re not getting married.” Yet , they think.

Harrow goes quiet and presses her face against Gideon’s shoulder and for a long time, they’re just quiet together. Gideon gathers Harrow’s hand into their own and pulls it up to rest against their chest, wondering if she can feel the steady thumping of their heart. They hold Harrow as close as they can get her, tucked beneath their chin, and close their eyes. This is right, they think. So perfectly right. 

When they stand again, Gideon’s legs are full of pins and needles and apparently so are Harrow’s. She stumbles a little and Gideon catches her and they laugh together quietly. 

“I should get Lola home,” Harrow says in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry about the window. I’ll pay to get it fixed.” 

Gideon waves dismissively. “No need. I’ll get it taken care of.” 

Harrow opens her mouth to protest and Gideon sweeps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her quiet instead. That ends the debate and when they part, Harrow looks a little dazed, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Gideon asks as they walk her to the car.

Harrow nods and opens the door. “I think that would be okay.” 

Gideon kisses her one last time, then reaches behind her to tuck Lola’s blanket in a little tighter.

This time, Gideon watches her drive away and it doesn’t feel like their heart is getting dragged behind her car. It’s in their chest, beating and alive and warm, and they feel almost giddy with it. They are so giddy, in fact, that the shattered window is a surprise to them and they don’t end up in bed again for another hour as they clean up the mess and cover the shattered pane with some cardboard. It’s no matter, though. All they can think about is Harrow and what tomorrow will bring.