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Jill drummed her fingers against the wooden desk. Missives were piled high and Clive was nowhere to be seen. Last she had heard, he had been roped into helping the children with their lessons again. The children's pleas had hounded his footsteps whenever he stepped into the hideaway and he could never say no to helping their allies, let alone children. His dour demeanour hid the softest heart and the children circled him like sharks, knowing it would take only the slightest puppy eye for him to crack. Torgal hadn’t been much different as a pup, despite the fact in his older age, he curled under Charon’s feet whenever he could. The prospect of treats was never far from the frost wolf’s mind.
Jill sighed as she cracked her fingers together. She swept her skirts to the side to sit and picked the first missive up. Otto had been kind enough to sort the urgent ones addressed to “Cid the Outlaw” to the side so they could prioritize them over the general pleasantries that meandered their way into the hideout, but the rest were a mix of general concerns, Curse Breaker reports, and the occasional personal letter.
With the workload piling on as they had steadily grown in numbers, she had begun to wonder if “Cid” wasn’t a two- or three-man position considering the workload was equivalent to running the duchy. That was a thought she kept to herself and didn’t dare bring up around Clive. The man had enough burdens weighing on his shoulders without adding additional “what-ifs” to the equation. Even Vivan could begrudgingly admit “Cid” had a knack for managing affairs.
The thought was brushed aside as she immersed herself in the woes written in ink. Reports were from all over the realm and every day more piled in. With the reception they had received by freeing more branded, some days she wondered if it would ever end. Or if they were doomed to set a pace of craving out a fraction of space for themselves, only for the ones they wished to help to continue spitting in their faces. The reception they had received in the Dhalmekia Republic from the bearers they had tried to save still stung, despite it being weeks ago.
She mulled over the thought and lost track of time as she read the missives, taking notes to create a summary of the concerns embedded in the text. The pile slowly decreased in volume, until only a scant few letters remained. Those were personally addressed to Clive and despite the trust they had built, Jill had no desire to read his personal mail. She leaned back in his chair and stretched her back. She relished the stretch and the freedom that came with the hideout. For all it took a small army of people to make the hideout work, the freedom was unmatched and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Freed from her self-imposed duty of paperwork, she realized the sun had set. The last traces of an orange sky painted Clive’s room with warmth she might have felt at a campfire. It was a comfort that reminded her of childhood memories. Of sneaking out to lit campfires outside of the duchy while Clive kept watch over her and Joshua.
She shook the memory away, much like she shook her limbs out. Ever since Drake’s Head, Clive was convinced Joshua had saved them and was alive somewhere in the realm. While she had her doubts, she could not deny she had been knocked unconscious in the Heart’s chamber and had little first-hand knowledge of what happened after. There was also no denying the Phoenix feather that Clive would often take out to stare at in contemplative thought. The few times she had glimpsed her troubled friend gazing at the fiery feather, she had been struck by how young he still looked. Often times, she wished she knew the words that would comfort him, but knew they would fall flat. She dearly hoped the little boy who had welcomed her so warmly into his home was still alive, and if Clive was able to find her years later, she kept faith that they would see Joshua again.
Her thoughts were disturbed when the door to Clive’s room was opened and Gav poked his head in.
“Ah, Jill! I don’t suppose you’ve seen Clive recently?” He asked careful hope splayed on his face.
“I’m afraid not.” She replied. She smiled apologetically as he sagged against the door.
“He’s probably caught up in the little one’s schemes again. Always chasing after his cloak with their little grubby hands, I swear.” He sighed before he shook his head. "Well, he can’t hide for long. Nothing gets away from this nose.” He tapped his nose before closing the door. She had to laugh quietly to herself as she heard his footsteps fade.
“Nothing ever slows Gav down for long.” She mused out loud. She shook her head and decided to make her way to the Fat Chocobo. It had been too long since she last ate. With the sun setting lower every moment, she exited Clive’s chambers into the belly of the hideout.
The flood of people as they mingled below always took her breath away and she had to marvel at the work they had accomplished. People spoke and smiled freely, able to eat enough so they didn’t go hungry. It was a safe place to sleep with little fear of repercussion, so long as the Hideaway stayed secret. A deep sense of pride settled over her as she walked the stairs into the crowd, stopping for idle chatter. Hands pressed against her arms, shoulders bumped into hers, all accompanied by a flash of a smile that crinkled the person’s eyes. It warmed her to her bones that this sense of community existed.
It seemed everyone had the same idea, with the sun sinking below the horizon as they began to swarm around the Fat Chocobo. Molly and her army of kitchen workers could be seen diligently spooning stew into bowls while Maeve manned the counter with a smile. To her amusement, Jill could see Clive and Gav surrounded by a gaggle of children. The twins had taken to crowding under Clive’s cloak, hands clutched tight to the ragged fabric. The rest of the children were shouting and pointing at Gav, who had his hands up in defense of what the children were saying, while her oldest friend had a hand held up to cover his mouth. She suspected he was stifling his laughter as the children grilled Gav about the latest story he had told them.
“It’s true! I swear it!” The man’s voice rang out clearly enough that Jill was surprised the workers down at the docks didn’t hear it. She’d have to check in later to see if they had heard the blond man.
“Tell the truth!” One boisterous boy stated, pointing a finger at Gav’s nose.
“I am!” He sputtered indignantly, a hand held to his chest. “Clive here saved my life!”
“I’m not sure I’ve heard that story,” Jill said as she stepped up to the table. All eyes swiveled to her momentarily before the children began their chorus of begging for a proper story. Gav met her eyes in disbelief and she tried to hide a smile.
It wasn’t missed by Clive and he bumped her side with his elbow. He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking his eyes to Gav. Her attempt at hiding a smile morphed into a smirk.
“I think you should tell it again, Gav.” Clive spoke up and the children fell silent. “It’s been a while since it happened and my memory is a bit foggy.”
“Your memory is foggy my right ass cheek,” Gav muttered under his breath but began to regale the children with the tale all the same. The twins had emerged from Clive’s cloak and had settled to sit with the rest of the children while the blond man began to make grand motions with his hands and the tempo of his story had picked up in pace.
“Your paperwork is done,” she said and her friend turned his head abruptly to her. A sheepish look settled on his face.
“My savior," he said, a smile in his eyes. “What would I ever do without you?”
“Hm, I’m not sure. Do your own paperwork?” She tilted her head as he winced, amusement clear on her face.
“You take the coeurl’s share of the work as it is and I wish I could do more. The least I can do is a little paperwork at home.” Clive shook his head. “I’m sorry the children distracted me.”
“I don’t mind.” Jill replied and sat beside him. “It makes me feel like I have agency in what I do. Even if it is paperwork.” A frown pulled at the corner of her mouth at the thought. The unspoken void that existed between them in the form of time spent apart had closed in many ways over the past five years, but still, there were things there she had yet to make peace with. The day they set sail for Drake’s Breath couldn’t come soon enough, despite the fact a part of her dreaded the thought of returning there.
"Still..." he tried to protest before she placed a finger on his lips. The surprise in those blue eyes of his sent Jill’s heart fluttering but she focused on the words she wanted to convey.
“I don’t mind. I’m happy to help with paperwork, especially considering how much there is.” Her tone was firm and he seemed to sink into himself with a helpless shrug.
“If you’re sure," he hedged as he grasped her hand in his, seemingly at a loss now that he held her hand.
“I am,” she whispered. She shifted her grip so their hands were twinned together and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it at her raised eyebrow. His non-verbal hum was enough to know he had heard her clearly and they settled their hands on the seat between them. The side eye Gav gave them as he gestured to Clive at what appeared to be the climax of the story told them he noticed, and they could expect a multitude of commentary over the next few days. Likely of the variety of when they’d officially get together.
Jill didn’t mind. They were free to choose and she would choose as she wished. The blistering memory of the heat of Drake’s Breath lingered in her mind and she knew she would make her choice once she was no longer haunted by the Patriarch, who had dared to commit such atrocities that her stomach would sour at the mere thought.
One day she would be free from all the strands that had dared to have tied the Dominant of Shiva down. And Drake’s Breath would be frozen to the bones of the volcano. She would make sure of it.