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As the sound of rain hitting the roof of the study grew suddenly from a whisper to a thundering, Alek glanced up from his book to observe the storm. Sure enough, fat, wind-blown raindrops splattered against the windowpane and rushed downwards in a gathering stream. Abandoning the thick volume Dr. Barlow loaned him -- “The Natural and Fabricated Evolution of Beasts of Burden: From Mules to Mammothines” -- Alek pushed himself from a plush armchair to perch on the broad windowsill. He pulled his knees into his chest and leaned back, resting his head against the fabricated wood of the tall bookcase behind him. Being indoors during a gale like this, safe and warm while the sound of rain muffled the noise of the rest of the world...it used to be comforting. Now, Alek didn’t know what to think of it. Where as a child he would have been transfixed by the thrashing elm branches in the distance, he now stared searchingly at the wall of water just beyond the glass, reminded acutely of rain washing over a different membrane.
Well, “washing” was putting it mildly. The torrent that had swept down the flank of the Leviathan that night was more reminiscent of a waterfall than anything rain could accomplish. Flashes of images had haunted Alek’s dreams for weeks -- the mass of water rushing through the flooding channel, the rain-diluted blood staining the fabric of his glove, and the bone-deep cold that threatened to drag him from consciousness. But the stitches at his left temple had healed months ago, and the nightmares left with them. (That’s not to say they weren’t replaced with new ones -- his airship home splitting with flames, a clever midshipman burning without him -- but that was neither here nor there.)
But the rain...drizzle or downpour, it was now irrevocably linked to that cold night topside with Deryn. And when the sheer fear of it was gone, all that remained was her. Her determination to mend the godforsaken wire, the set of her jaw as she clipped them to the rigging on the beastie’s flank, the way she had wrapped herself around him -- as if her wiry form could somehow save him from drowning. The only thing he’d been conscious of saying was a demand for her honesty.
And she had given him her last secret. A brief press of lips confirming what Alek had already guessed, but awakening a secret of his own, one that --
“Well, this is rubbish.”
Deryn was perched in Alek’s vacated armchair, examining Dr. Barlow’s book with apparent distaste. She’d crept in so silently she may as well have just appeared there. Alek usually didn’t startle anymore, having adapted to Deryn’s talent for skulking about, but his mind had been so far away that he couldn’t help but jump a bit. If Deryn noticed (of course she did, Deryn noticed everything) she didn’t let on.
“I thought you approved of my studying up on your beloved Darwinist fabrications?” Alek queried.
Deryn stood, replacing the book on the armchair and drifting toward the windowsill. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love them too,” she scolded. “Besides, that was when you couldn’t tell a messenger tern from a strafing hawk. You know plenty more now, working at the bloody zoo. This,” she cast a hand toward the book, “is just dull.”
Alek hummed thoughtfully. “But you know this stuff,” he reminded her. “Studied it same as I’m doing. It’s only fair I...subject myself to it as well.”
“No, it isn’t, not when you’ve got every beastie in existence within walking distance of your own front door.” (Our own front door, mused Alek, the thought making his insides feel pleasantly warm.) “If you want to know about...” Deryn glanced at the book, open to a dense entry on lupine life-threads. “If you want to know about tigeresques, go march up to their enclosure and give one a scratch hello.”
Alek laughed softly. “I think that’d earn me a snarl at best, and an amputation at worst,” he replied, shuddering. “I will stick to my book, thank you very much.”
Deryn smiled, exasperated. “Suit yourself, your Serene Highness. I suppose it’s as good a day as any to get some reading in.” Eyes fixed on the growing storm outside, she hoisted herself onto the windowsill across from Alek, swiveling around to entangle her legs with his. They were silent for a while, Alek pretending to watch the trees thrash outside, unable to ignore the feeling of Deryn’s eyes searching his face. “What were you thinking about?” she finally asked, voice quiet.
Of course she’d noticed his deep thought from earlier -- who knows, Alek realized with a start, how long she had watched him before making her presence known? She was irritatingly perceptive, his midshipwoman. Alek decided to give her an equally irritating answer.
“Rain,” he told her. Hey, it’s not as if he was lying.
Deryn sighed, knocking at his feet with her own. “Wow,” she began, voice flat, “I always had you pegged for the philosophical type, but I’d never have guessed you’d be such an enigma.”
Alek snorted. “Yes, well, being raised in a palace does that sort of thing to a guy.” He made the mistake of looking up at Deryn’s face, and her blue eyes held his, questioning.
“Alek,” said Deryn, gently admonishing. “You know I can tell when something’s bothering you. What were you thinking of?”
The ex-prince let out a breath, long and slow, holding her gaze. “The rain...that night we were topside.”
“Oh,” Deryn uttered. She paused, thoughtful. “But I thought the nightmares--”
“Yes, the nightmares have stopped. But I still dream about it. About...about you. The way you saved me. The way you…” Alek trailed off.
“The way I what?”
Alek glanced around at the rows of shelves. Assured that they were alone in the library, he stretched forward, catching Deryn’s lips in a chaste kiss to demonstrate. “The way you saved me,” he repeated, conclusive.
“Oh,” Deryn breathed again.
Alek felt like talking about it, suddenly. He didn’t know why, but he needed to explain this to her -- to himself, maybe. He shifted closer to Deryn on the windowsill. “It was the first time I saw you...as you. Not just as a girl, not just as Middy Dylan. It was the most complete Deryn Sharp I’d ever known. And I…” he swallowed, realizing what he was about to say, realizing that he meant it. “And I loved her.”
Across from him, Deryn visibly stiffened. Dropping her gaze, she turned towards the downpour beyond the window. Alek watched her reflection in the glass pane, saw her eyes close. “And do you still?” she whispered.
“No,” said Alek lowly. Deryn’s eyes sprang open, but she kept on facing the window. Alek reached out to rest a hand atop hers. “It’s changed.” Deryn moved as if to draw her hand away, and Alek grasped it in both of his. “I do believe I’m in love with her now.”
Deryn finally looked at him, expression unreadable. “A worser fate, indeed.” Her other hand joined Alek’s own, but Alek’s eyes were fixed upon her face, where a faint redness she would later deny was blossoming high on her cheekbones. “But one that we share,” she amended, leaning forward to kiss him firmly without bothering to check the perimeter. Alek couldn’t blame her -- spectators be damned. This was worth it.
Deryn didn’t need to say it, but she did, breaking the kiss to exhale the words into the small space between them. “I love you too, you daft prince.”
Alek couldn’t help but grin into their next kiss.