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When the Volkvolny returns to port, he’s there. Of course he’s there. A distance away from the pier, perhaps, but he’s there.
Oretsev gives him a nod as he strides past carrying ropes and hollering orders at the disembarking crew. He nods back – already distracted.
She’s walking down the pier in confident strides, hair blowing in the breeze, sun glinting on her daggers. Tolya’s big arm rests around her shoulders and she's not shrinking away. In fact, hers is curled around his waist, fingers tucked into his belt.
His jaw tightens and his fingers ball into tight fists around his cane. He plants his feet and locks his knees, forces himself not to be a coward for once.
Her gaze lands on him. And brightens, softens.
His follows suit, with a warm, knowing smile. He blinks and takes a breath, momentarily reeling.
-
When she’s standing in front of him, she squeezes Tolya’s arm. The pirate’s gaze sweeps her face before he gives them a gentle nod and steps away.
Not far. And while his gaze ostensibly searches for his sister, he knows he’s still tuned into her, listening for her breathing, her heartbeat. He can respect that.
“Did you find your brother?”
She exhales. Relieved, but her smile is bittersweet. “Yes. He has a new family, now. We… promised to write.”
“Hmm.” His gaze bores into her. “And you?”
She tilts her head in that familiar, exasperated way and sighs, challenge heating her eyes and sharpening her voice.
“I came back, didn’t I?”
The to you is silent and he wonders if he imagined it. He blinks slowly and glances five steps away and to the left.
“Yes. You did.”
This time she does not fail to roll her eyes. She reaches out her left hand and Tolya is there at her side, fingers intertwined with hers, his gaze steady and warm on her. And then on him.
She lifts her right hand in front of her, palm open, eyes burning. Willing him to figure it out. Willing him to swallow the dregs of fear and pride and accept.
“Yes. We did.”
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