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Chapter Text

Around the same time Origin breaks and falls – although she does not know it at that time – Jill looks up at the sky, and sees the bright red glow of Metia missing, and she knows what must have happened.

Fear slams into her with the force of a raging Behemoth, and it takes her breath away. No. No! But no matter how her gaze scans the sky, looking for that single pinprick of red next to the moon, she cannot see it. Once she has scanned the entire expanse of the sky, she has to admit – it is gone. Her star, on which she had wished on Clive’s safe return, is gone.

Everything in her flares up in a pain which stems from no physical source, and she feels a scream claw at her throat; she barely manages to catch it behind her palm.

In her mind, there is only one possible reason for why she cannot find what she is looking for – and when she reaches inside herself, grasps desperately for that familiar pulse of ice at the very center of her being, it does not really surprise her that she comes up empty.

Shiva is gone. Her Eikon, the second soul which she has carried around with herself since early childhood, has left her without a trace.

And if Shiva is gone, then Clive, who had carried a piece of her as well-…

Jill had really thought that she knows what despair and pain felt like. She had lived it, for fifteen long years. But right here, right now, she learns a new depth of it. It feels as if someone has rammed a dagger in between her ribs, aiming straight for her heart, and aiming true.

She gasps aloud, taking a step back. Her chest hurts, and it feels so real that she truly expects to see blood when she looks down.

But there is nothing, neither on her skin nor on her clothes. She is unharmed, and yet, it feels as if someone has reached inside her ribcage and ripped something out of her.

In the general excitement, the sound and movement of her grief are completely lost; only a few inches away, Edda is rocking her baby boy in her arms, beaming down at him, and everyone else is swarming them, cooing over the little one.

Nobody notices when Jill stumbles outside, into the mess, tears running down her face and sobs bursting out of her; Torgal is the only one to follow her, howling at the moon in a sound which seems to stem from his very corr.

They're quiet grieving cannot last long. The sun is barely creeping over the horizon, dipping the Hideaway and the lake around them in golden hues, when the door to the infirmary slams open once more, and a whole group of people stumbles out, laughing and talking. They fill into the mess, a tumble of bodies and grinning faces.

"Jill!" Mid cries, pushing to the front of the group while waving enthusiastically. "Come celebrate with us! We will be toastin’ to Edda an' the babe!"

"You're not getting any alcohol, Mid," Otto interrupts her on a grumble.

" Pfft! We’ll see 'bout that."

Their obvious joy would be infectious, usually, but right now, it contrasts Jill's pain so much that it casts it in sharp relief, making it more pronounced. She does not want to interrupt their celebrations, but to pretend everything is alright...

Fighting to force a trembling smile onto her face, Jill shakes her head. "No... no, thank you. I think today has been... I-... I do not feel well. I'm sorry. Please excuse me."

She catches a glimpse of their faces falling, cheer replaced with worry, but she does not stop to be sure; she is hurrying away as fast as she can without running already.

Later, Jill had thought as she hurried through the Hideaway, swallowing hot tears so nobody would see, later she would have to tell them what she felt, what her heart already knew. That had her worries had already been confirmed, and Clive would not be coming back to them.

To her .

The tears started flowing around the time she dashes out of the elevator and along the docks, and she can only pray that her muffled sobs do not reach the happy assembly up in the mess.

As she impulsively choses a bark and drops to her knees to untie it, there is a quiet woof! behind her.

"Stay, Torgal," she commands with trembling voce, sniffing and shaking her head so she can even form the words. "I can't... please, stay ."

The rope securing the bark falls and Jill grabs the oar and jumps into the vessel without her usual grace. As she pushes off the dock, Torgal barks and whines, but she cannot bring herself to look at him. She keeps her head down and her back turned as she rows as fast as she can, attempting to bring as much distance between herself and the Hideaway in as short a time as she possibly can.

Behind her, Torgal's starts howling quietly, and it is too much - Jill's tears flow freely as she begins sobbing, rowing forward half-blind while she tries to keep a semblance of control for a little while longer.

In her state she cannot possibly make it far, but that is alright. All she needs to do is steer in between some pf the Fallen ruins, and there, into the natural cove among the smooth stones. There is a flat structure protruding above the water’s surface; only just wide enough to stand or sit comfortably without toppling into the water.

Finally at her goal, Jill stumbles ashore, and barely takes the time to drag her bark half onto the ledge beside her before she allows herself to crumble.

She sinks to the ground and rolls together tight, knees drawn up to her chest so she can hide her face in them, and bursts out crying. All the sobs and tears she has been holding back so nobody will be worried by them break out of her like a dam breaking, and she screams her pain out unabashedly.

Clive is gone.

Clive is gone .

She cries and cries; for the boy she had grown up with, and the man she has fallen in love with. For the memories she has of him, and foe the ones she will now never get to make with him now . She cries for missed opportunities, and a future they have been robbed off.

And most of all she cries because it is simply not fair .

Had they not suffered enough already? Not lost enough, not given enough? All these times they had tried to do the right thing - all the people Clive had saved, the sacrifices he had made-....

It's not fair , Jill thinks again and again, while her heart breaks and her tears won't stop. It's not fair , it's not fair, it's not fair .

She cries until she has no tears left to give, and when the flow finally runs dry, Jill is left feeling empty, as if the pain has been washed out of her along with the tears for the time being.

Lying there, rolled into a tight little ball, she sniffles and lifts a hand to her stinging eyes to wipe them dry. Every bit of her hurts, starting from her heart down to her very bones from where she has been lying on hard, unforgiving ground for too long. And yet, she cannot bring herself to move; what's the point?

And so she stays, eyes staring unseeing out onto the lake, where early morning is slowly turning over into midday.

Just when she wonders if she will ever move again, or simply lie here forever, an unexpected sound draws her out of her numbness: There is a splashing sound somewhere close by, too loud for a simple fish or bird.

Blinking slowly, Jill takes a sniffling breath and then holds herself as quiet as possible, listening out if she hears it again. And, yes - there it is.

And it's coming closer.

Some tiny bit of alarm manages to penetrate the fog holding her down, and she pushes herself up into a sitting position, hand shouting out to reach for her sword -

only to realize that it is missing

Of course, she closes her eyes, cursing herself a fool quietly. She had been in such a hurry to get away from the others and wallow in her pain, she has not even considered stopping to grab her weapon. And now she is sitting here on a silver platter, all alone, unarmed and without a means of a fast escape.

A spark of defiance flares to life inside of her, and Jill straightens, tensing up in readiness for a possible attack. Unarmed or not, she is not going out with a fight; not here, not now.

Seconds tick by, and with every moment, the splashing comes closer. As Jill watches, something moves around the corner of the ruins she has hidden herself behind. It lays low in the water, half submerged, and is steadily coming closer. The sun's flare shields it from her sight until it is only a few leagues away, and finally Jill sees it; a very familiar sight, indeed.

All tension leaves her, any alarm vanishing into thin air as she gapes incredulously. "Torgal?!"

Still treading water, Torgal gives a deep Boof of greeting and crosses the last few inches towards the shore under her incredulous gaze. Once there, Torgal begins dragging himself out of the water, huffing when his paws slip a few times due to the wet stones. It does not stop him for long, and soon enough, he is standing next to Jill, panting with his tongue out. While Jill can only stare at him, flabbergasted, Torgal huffs, sneezes, and then begins shaking himself off wildly.

With a little shriek, Jill throws her arms up, but it is too late: The amount of water splashing out of Torgal's long fur equals roughly that of a small wave, and in a matter of seconds, Jill is entirely drenched from head to toe.

She does not mind, per se. Hardly feels it, in fact, when she is too busy staring at their trusted companion, still trying to piece together how he can possibly be here right now. The only thing which comes to mind seems entirely farfetched. "Torgal, how did you - you swam after me?"

As if in answer Torgal huffs, and shuffles closer. Even sitting, his size almost dwarves her, but Jill does not mind. She readily opens her arms for the dear animal, and finds herself with a lapful of frost wolf only a heartbeat later.

Torgal shuffles around for a bit until his head lies comfortably in her lap, and then falls still. Only his big, round eyes blink slowly up at her, and he lets out a low whine.

The sound is so sad it drives tears into Jill’s eyes once more when she had thought she had no more to give. Sniffling, she lays a hand on Torgal’s head, scratching between his ears the way she knows he likes. Even without words, she thinks she understands all too well how he is feeling, and why he is here. "Oh, Torgal," she whispers, awed and grateful. "You're the best, and most loyal companion, anyone could even dream to have."

Another snuffling sound, and the dog closes his eyes, letting more of his weight rest on her. It is an anchoring weight, and warm as a blanket. As Jill sits there, scratching the dear dog slowly, she feels some of the numbness in her chest loosen,

They have not been sitting there long yet when yet another splashing sound cuts through their companionable silence. Jill looks up in surprise as she recognizes the sound of a bark coming closer. Again? What are the odds of this being a coincidence? This is not a well-known place, after all.

She wonders for the briefest moment if she should be alarmed; but Torgal is a heavy and reassuring weight in her lap, and he does nothing more than lazily flick his ears toward the sound. So, Jill figures that it must be save, and wait to see what is coming her way.

The wait is a short one. As she watches, still a little wary, a barks drifts around the corner of the ruin and into sight.

Imagine her surprise when for the second time that day, she is greeted by a familiar face.

"Hey." Gav calls out to her as he brings the bark to a wobbly stop. Leaning heavily onto his oar, shifting his weight to hold himself steady and not let the bark drift away, he smiles crookedly at her. "Figure there's space up there for a third?"

"Gav?" Jill blurts out incredulously, not sure if she trusts her eyes. Toegal was already a surprise, but Gav... "I thought-... shouldn’t you be with Edda and her child?"

"Eh." Gav waves the notion of with a shrug, as if he had not been the most excited of them all for this day. "Both sleepin'. They have earned it, I wager, and I - I would only be in the way, anyhow, so...uh."

He trails off a little and scratches the back off his neck, seeming to grow bashful under her stare the longer he speaks. "I thought - thought you could use some company, but I can - ya know, I can leave. If. If you want me to?"

For the briefest moment, Jill hesitates, two very different sides of her warring – for one, the urge to never burden anyone else with her feelings, and for the other, the comfort she would wish for.

The later, finally, wins out when her gaze finds Gav’s, and she sees the same sad understanding there she saw in Torgal. Ah. Right. This is Gav; if anyone in the Hideaway can even come close to what she is going through right now, it might be him.

Mind made up, she pats whatever little space is still left on the ledge next to her and Torgal. “Please, come sit with me.”

Lips quirking into a half-smile, Gav pushes his weight against the poll with a quiet grunt, and begins steering the vessel over towards her. Once he reaches the ledge, Jill offers him a hand to help him up, but he waves her away.

With the skill born in someone who has been doing this for years, he moors his own vessel to hers, and climbs up to sit on the ledge beside her.

Once he comes to sit beside her with a deep, satisfied sigh, Jill bumps him with her shoulder. “How on earth did you find me so fast? Some scouting secret I am not privy to yet?"

"Nah. Followed Torgal, if I'm honest,” smirking softly, Gav reaches over to scratch Torgal the way she was doing earlier, earning a single, slow thump of a wagging tail with it. "He kept barking and scratching at the docks, and since ya were missin' too, I figured, got something to do with you, all that excitement."

A new wave of feelings threatens to swamp her, and Jill breathes in deeply, slowly, to fight it back. With a glance at the unmoving Torgal, she buries her fingers deeper in his long fur, willing the touch to carry all the gratefulness she feels for the loyal beast. “Thank you, Gav,” she manages with barely a waver in her voice. “I’m sorry, that you had to come look for me-…”

“Aw, no,” he interrupts her, throwing up one hand. “’S no problem, right? Besides, I wouldn’t be a very good pal if I didn't keep one eye out for ya, right,"

As he says it, he taps below his single remaining eye and waggles his eyebrows at her playfully.

Snickering wetly despite herself at the terrible pun, Jill leans sideways until her head is resting against Gav's shoulder. She feels him freeze in surprise, but he does not pull away, so she stays. Once she feels him relax under the touch, she whispers, "You are more than a pal to both of us, Gav. You must know that."

Next to her, Gav clears his throat sharply, shifting around in place. "Aw, hell... don't get all sappy on me too, yea?"

Surprised, Jill lifts her had to peer up at him. " Too? "

"He... uh ." Gav seems unable to look at her. He gazes off to the side, scratching his cheek restlessly. "Clive, I mean. Said something similar. Lately."

"That you're family?" When Gav nods jerkily, hesitant, Jill feels as if something melts inside if her. "Oh, Gav . I thought you already knew we saw you as such."

"You, ah. You do? No, I mean-...not saying you're lying, just-.. . sure, Clive said it, and now, now you say it, I guess I just-..."

" Anyone ,” Jill interrupts him gently, "would be lucky to call you family, Gav. Please never doubt that."

He stops, and she can hear his heavy gulp. "Heh. Alright then," there is no way to tell what he is thinking since he still refuses to look at her, but based on the tremble in his voice, Jill can guess quite well.

Sighing fondly, Jill shakes her head and then rests it against Gav' shoulder once more. This time, he reaches up and drapes his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently.

They sit in silence for a while, only the sound of the gentle waves and the cries of a few birds between them.

It is Gav who finally breaks the quiet hesitantly. “Jill? Did anything… happen? Earlier?”

Whatever bit of calm had settled over Jill vanishes like it had never been there in the first place. She tenses, fighting back another wave of rears. “I….”

"You were – are - crying."

"Yes... I...." How can she explain? This horrible, wrenching feeling in her chest, as if somethimg has been literally ripped out of her. The sense that whatever deeper connection to Clive and to the part of Shiva he carried with him had been cut with a white-hot knife, leaving its marks deep inside of her.

Even just remembering it, she feels like screaming again.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she presses out, "Clive. Clive is... I think he might be...."

She does not have to finish, and she is glad for it. Gav had tensed while she had spoken, and when she breaks off, he hisses out a breath. He does not ask, he does not question. He simply grips her tighter and shakes his head. "Shit"" he grits out, voice tight. "Thats- , shit! "

The sheer anguish in Gav's voice is enough to trigger Jill's own again, and she presses her hand against her mouth as the tears start up once more. Gav's arm tightens around her even while he himself starts trembling, and next to her, Torgal shuffles closer with a whine.

"I always figured, if anyone can do it, it's him." Gav's voice is drawn so tight it trembles of the verge of breaking. His fingers dig almost painfully into her shoulder. "You know? Whatever he set his mind to, he just does it. Never seen anything quite like it. Sure, there was Cid, yea, he was - he was like that, too, but Clive? Even more. Every time I thought nah, never, that can’t work he just went and did it anyway, somehow."

Gav takes a deep breath, then pushes it out in a hard, sad laugh. "It always made me feel like I can do impossible things, too. Do... more."

A shaky silence falls between them. Blindly, Jill reaches to the side, and grabs Gav's free hand in hers.

He squeezes back tightly. "I can 't believe that he-... didnt make it. "

The quiet admission hits almost harder than his other confessions, and Jill breathes out deeply so as not to break into tears once more. "I can't believe it, either."

Gav grunts in agreement, but does not look up , keeping his face buried in the palm of his hand. He looks as if he would love to stay there forever, not facing the world any longer.

Jill can very well understand him, since she feels the same.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, hoping it will help her find a semblance of stability and comfort. It does not help much.

Gav's word still ring in her ears. she agrees fully - she, too has always believed, deep down, that Clive could do anything. Yes, sometimes she had worried what it would cost him, if he did, especially alone, but even then, she had never doubted that he could do it.

She had never doubted he would come back to her, as well.

Another tear gathers in her eye, slips quietly down her cheek. Jill does nothing about it. Clive had promised he would be back; even though he knew how dangerous his mission was.

He had never broken a promise to ger, so she had thought -

She is spiraling again, she knows it, but this time, it is different. When she had been alone, and the pain as fresh as a newly bleeding wound, all she had felt was despair. Now, surrounded and comforted by those she loves – those who love Clive – it no longer feels like despair, but rather denial.

I can't believe it , Gav had said, and Jill is inclined to say the same . I can't believe it.

"I won't believe it."

"Hm?"

Jill looks up. No fresh tears fall, dried up by her sudden new resolve. Gav is looking at her with a puzzled frown, rubbing at his red eye, and it makes her realize that she has spoken her thoughts aloud.

“I said…” she starts, stops. Hesitates while she wonders if she really should say it.

But to her own surprise, there is a sort of indignant spark flaring to life inside of her; breaking through the pain and numbness like a starburst. Perhaps it is insanity, finding her in her grief, yet if it is, Jill greets it with open arms. It suits her better than lamenting, she finds.

"I said, I won't believe it ," she says, firm now. Shrugging Gav's arm off gently and slipping out from under Torgal, she rises to her feet. A restless sort of energy has gripped her in stark contrast to her earlier stupor. "Clive - Clive never gave up on me, no matter how dire things looked," with every word, her resolve strengthens. "And neither will I give up on him!"

"Uh," Gav seems not to know what to do with himself as he blinks up at her. "'S not that I dunnot like a bit of that stubbornness, but didn't we just think that he-... ah. Didn't make it?"

"We only think ," Jill insists, then pauses. Is it hypocrisy, insisting now when it was her feeling had brought them here? But it had just been that - a feeling. She needed certainty. To think that she had almost given up without even trying!

Pressing her folded hands to her chest, she attempts to explain haltingly, "I... I know what I felt, it was real, but...it could also mean that something happened to him, that he is injured, not that he-..."

She cannot say it. She won’t. Instead, she looks at Gav pleadingly, willing him to understand where she is coming from. "I cannot say for sure , what happened."

For a few beats longer, Gav only stares at her, clearly flabbergasted by her outburst and sudden mood swing.

Then, he frowns, a new kind of steel entering his expression while he pushes himself up, and rises along with her. "A'right. So where do we start?"

The acceptance comes so fast and easy that Jill is thrown, having anticipated she would have to argue on it. She stares at Gav disbelievingly. "You believe me? Just like this?"

"Sure do," Gav looks more determined by the minute, rubbing his reddened cheeks with one hand while he shows his teeth in a determined grin. "Cuz you're right - Clive never gives up, doesn't matter how shit things look. And I spent too much time around the man not to become a bit of the same brand as crazy as him, so. I'm in. We will look for him, and we will find him."

Utterly floored, Jill gapes at him for a beat or two.

Then she surges forward, and throws her arms around his waist in the strongest hug she can possibly manage.

Gav flails and curses like a sailor as the unexpected force nearly sends them both into the lake. Somewhere behind them, Torgal gives a bark that sounds like laughter.

“Woah, woah,, what-…!”

“Gav,” Jill gasps out, crying again now for an entirely different reason, “how you could ever doubt how much you mean to us when you are this good of a friend, I will never know.”

“Aw, Founder,” carefully and with an awkward laugh, Gav wraps his arms around her to return the embrace. “Save me the tears until we found him, okay?”

Nodding, Jill pushes back, smiling up at him. "Yes you - you're right, of course."

"Ye, I got my moments," Gav answers with a smirk. “Com’ on. We got work to do. And I think I know some people who will help.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They hurry back to the Hideaway in such a rush, it is a surprise they do not capsize halfway there.

Jill is already running along the docks while Gav haphazardly moors their barks, heart beating fast and throat tight. But this time, it is not pain crushing her chest, but hope. Maybe their believe it is a farfetched one, but it is one she won't let go.

Otto greets them when they all but fall out of the elevator. He must have seen them approaching from up in the mess, since he is frowning darkly at them, lines of worry carved in between his eyebrows. “Gav? What’s going on?” He demands immediately as they come to a stumbling halt in front of him. “Something happen?”

“Ye. Clive's in trouble," Gav barely waits until Otto has straightened up, expression darkening even further, before he pushes on, “I need everyone here, as quickly as you can make it. We’ll explain.”

To his credit, Otto does not question any further. Nodding grimly, he lifts a hand to his mouth and whistles sharply on two fingers, a sound which has Torgal lay his ears flat and the people nearby look up in alarm. “HEY!” The man thunders, louder even than his whistle. “Everyone, gather up! We need all hands on deck, now! ”

On cue, the inhabitants of the Hideaway spring into action; a few of those who are close by run off to gather those who could possibly have missed the call to action, while the rest turns almost as one and hurries towards the mess.

In between everyone, it only takes a matter of minutes to gather every single adult – or near-adult – in the mess. The place is bursting with people, all of them looking expectantly at Otto, Gav and Jill where they are standing in front of the Hunter’s Board.

Otto claps a hand on Gav’s shoulder, the other on Jill’s. “So? You want to fill us in what you meant?”

“Hm,” Gav’s gaze snaps past the older man towards Jill, a crease in his brow. “You wanna go?”

She nods and steps forward. Immediately, the attention of everyone there swings towards her.

She does not let it cow her; she had been at Cid’s side for the past five years, helping where she could, and the entire Hideaway respects her. Let this be enough .

“Everyone,” she begins, deciding that straight to the point will be best. “I think something might have happened to Clive and the others.”

Her words have an immediate effect: the crowd breaks out in whispers; a few gasps can be heard; a buzz of activity. It is Mid who bursts out first, crossing her arms, “What do ya mean, something might've happened?”

There is that question again that gives Jill pause while she wavers to explain. But this time, she is more prepared for it, and pushes through quickly, “When Origin fell, during the night, I felt – something. A sense of foreboding. And I just know that it has to do with Clive.”

Another wave of whispers, a ripple through the crowd as everyone shifts and exchanges glances. A hand raises above the head of the others, and when a few people shift aside to make way, it becomes visible that it's Blackthorne who asks aloud, “You mean you felt that he’s in trouble?”

“I cannot be sure, of course,” Jill admits, twisting her hands together. “But I think it is highly likely, yes.”

Once she finishes speaking, she waits with batted breath for the reaction this will get her. It is not much, after all - basing everything on a feeling? Even though the people of the Hideaway know her, trust her, she wouldn’t be surprised if they scoffed at her for this.

Her hopes are surpassed when instead of skepticism, all she gets are worried looks, and people talking over each other.

"He probably should be back already, yes?"

"That crystal thing came down a while ago, yea."

“Woulda come back already, if he could,” Blackthorne grumbles, rubbing his chin. “Or at least sent word."

“You mean he couldn’t?!”

“Then what are we standing around here for?!” that is Byron who speaks up, expression taught and stormy. “If my nephews are in trouble, we got to help them!”

“That’s what we’re tryin’ to say, Lord Rosfield,” Gav interrupts not unkindly, gesturing for everyone to be quiet again. “But runnin’ off headless won’t help us. It ain’t like we even know where they are.”

“Then let’s find them!” Someone calls from the back of the crowd.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to say, damn you!” Gav bellows back, earning a few scattered barks of laughter and a “Let him talk!”. He goes on with his voice raised, addressing the entirety of the Hideaway gathered before them, “What we need is search troupes, an idea where to look for ‘em, and a damn plan. They could be anywhere between Waloed and Sanbreque, far as we know.”

“I can go look for ‘em on sea!” Mid pipes up immediately. She is bouncing on her toes by now, a restless energy about her while she tucks her arms closer to herself to hide her trembling hands. “Enterprise and I got that covered!”

“That’s what I was hopin’ for,” Gav nods at her, his serious expression flickering a little when a smile flits over it. “Best you check in with Vivian on some maps, maybe she has an idea where to start…”

“Leave that to me,” Vivian interjects grimly. “If it is maps you need, I will provide you with everything we got.”

“And perhaps,” a soft, gentle voice speaks up. There is movement in the crowd and Harpocrates steps forward, to stand beside Mid. He inclines his head towards her with a nod. “Perhaps I might assist you with a more detailed map of the currents in whatever area we settle on as a good place to start. I recall seeing something like that among the books I recently read.”

“Thanks”, Gav says to him with relief stark in his voice. He does not stop to see Harpocrates accept his thanks with a nod, but is already turning around, towards the next person. “Lord Byron, the men in Ran’dellah, you still in contact with them? We will need as many people as we can get.”

“Well even if I wasn’t,” Byron answers grimly, heavy browns drawn into a frown unlike his usual happy demeanor, “then you could damn well be sure I would not hesitate to twist my old friend's arm on this. I will be sending a stola, right now.”

He stomps off, and Gav nods, clearly relieved. “Good… then the rest of us, we will split into groups. Not too small, and make sure we got a fighter or two on every team. I know there is not that many who can fight right now, but-…”

“If I might interject,” a calm yet firm voice rises up gently from behind the crowd.

There is shuffling in the crowds, people whispering in surprise as they stumble back and away to make way for the speaker. While Jill and Gav are exchanging a quick, perplexed look – who could this be? - a entire troupe of dragoons pushes forward. Their armors are gleaming in the afternoon’s sun, and thanks to their readied spears and dragon-like helmets, they are quite the sight to behold, even though their numbers are few. Jill can understand why some of the Hideaway’s occupants who are standing close look wary, even though the dragoons have been seen going in and out of the Hideaway for weeks now thanks to Prince Dion.

At the very front of the unexpected guests is a single soldier who seems to be the leader. He is the only one who is not wearing his helmet, and despite his rather unassuming appearance with his brown short hair and his calm face, there is a steel in his voice that makes people listens when he speaks up once more, “The dragoons will aid you in any way they can, if you will permit us. We, too, are looking for His Highness Prince Dion, after all, and joining our forces might bring more success.”

“Uh,” very briefly, Gav looks taken aback by the offer, but he catches himself quickly, and nods at the other man. “Sure. We need all the help we can get... Errrr. Do you mind if we split you up, or-….?”

“We will help wherever we are needed,” the man raises his hand to gesture at the dragoon battalion. Each of them immediately shifts and falls into stance, raising their spears in front of them in a sort of greeting. The rattle of metal is impressive, and a little ear-numbing.

Despite the noise, Gav looks like the last of his surprise melts away, and he smiles at the leader of the soldiers with more warmth now. “Thank you, uh-…?”

“Terrence.” The man inclines his head in a respectful greeting. “In’ His Highness’ absence, I will take command of the dragoons. But we would gladly follow any order you might give us, to aid the search.”

“Well. Then, thanks.” Raising his voice once more, Gav turns back to all of them. “Everyone who is up for being a part of the search troupe, gather in front of Charon’s shop. We will split you into smaller groups, and figure out where you can start the search. Go!”

The crowd shouts an agreement, and starts filtering out of the mess and the entrance towards the Hideawy itself.

With them all on the move, Gav turns towards the only one besides himself and Jill who is not following the others. “Otto…”

Immediately, the older man throws his hands up in a defensive gesture and backs away. He had been staying quiet for the duration of this all, but now he grumbles, “Nah, don’t count me in. Not tryin’ to sound like an asshole, here, but an old fart like me is going to be no help scampering around in the wilds.”

“I was going to ask if you can keep things in check around here.” Gav looks more amused than offended at the outbursts.

“That, I can do,” a spark of mischief flits through the older man’s eyes, and he inclines his head slightly. “Cid.”

That immediately sobers Gav up, and he shakes his head. “Don’t call me that.” When both Jill and Otto glance at him, slightly surprised, he adds gruffly, “Title still belongs to Clive, and he better not be taking it back anytime soon.”

Otto’s smile melts away entirely, and he nods. “Get that. Well. You best be off then. They are not gonna wait for you long, these guys.”

“Right,” distractedly, Gav runs a hand through his hair, then takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “Alright. Gotta do this. No problem.”

And still muttering to himself, he dashes after the unlikely group of people he had just sent off.

Jill starts to follow at a much slower pace behind him, Torgal right at her side. Even from here, she can hear the noise coming from inside; there is an explosion of activity now, an organized chaos of voices trying to be heard and people running into different direction to the tune of Gav calling out orders.

Staying in the back of it all, Jill oversees the commotion while fighting to keep the swell of emotions in her chest at bay. To see everyone jump to action as soon as they heard Clive possibly needed help… she is so grateful , for all of them.

They love you , she thinks, blinking against tears. You did so much for all us, of course they do.

“Jill". A gruff voice cuts through the noise, and a hand settles lightly on her forearm.

When Jill glances over, surprised, it is to find Otto next to her. He is frowning, corners of his mouth pulling downwards and brows furrowed in a dark expression. "Bring him home, alright?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but even in all the noise, Jill hears him clear as day. "I already lost one good friend to all this; don't got anymore to spare."

His words sound court, rough, yet his eyes are soft, and the tension in his face betrays his genuine worry.

Her heart twists in her chest, but Jill does not let that sway her. She nods, firmly, laying ner hand over his hand. "We will."

At her touch, her words, some of the tension melts out of Otto's taught shoulders, and he nods jerkily, clearing his throat sharply. He is careful to hide his face from her gaze while he turns and hurries away.

Letting her gaze wander, Jill notes that she is alone now, with only Torgal staying at her side. Once he feels her gaze on him, the frost wolf begins wagging his tail slowly, looking expectant.

Leaning forward to hold his snout in her hands, Jill whispers to him, "Let's bring him home"

Torgal straightens immediately and barks, twice, then pants with what looks to be a grin of excitement.

And for the first time since the night before, Jill feels like she might have reason to truly smile again, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It quickly becomes clear that the search is going to be excruciating. Even with Vivian's help, they only have a vague idea of where to start looking, and the possible area is large, too large.

But they do not let that stop them. With Mid taking over the search on sea, all that is left for them is the search inland. To cover the huge area, they decide to split up; one half of them will scour the beaches and adjacent area of Waloed, while the other half will do the same on Sanbreque’s east coast. Those who have access to chocobos will cover the larger areas, the other ones will go by foot.

Jill finds herself at Gav’s side, Torgal with her, in one of the groups starting out from Caer Norvent’s Glorieuse Gate. She does not particularly mind; it does no matter where she will be looking, she just wants to do something.

Once they arrive a few leagues East of Caer Norvent, Gav rounds up their big group and assigning them to different areas, which he indicates on the main map he has brought with him. Each of the leaders of the other group is carrying their own crude copy of it, and they nod along while they mark their respective sections, eyes serious and expressions determined.

“You good to stay with me?” Gav asks Jill quietly, once everyone else has been given a respective role.

She gives him a fondly exasperated look. “Of course, don’t be silly,”

“Just checking. Okay.” He rolls out the map he has kept to himself, showing it to her. “I figured we would start around here, then go in a sort of circle outwards. It’s a bigger area than most, but I’ve been scouting here before, so I do know my way around a bit. Besides, we got the best nose in all of Valisthea with us.”

At the mention, Jill glances down at their animal companion with a smile. “True. If anyone can find Clive, it’s Torgal.”

As he hears his name, Toegal straightens from where he had been sitting next to them, and turns an alert gaze and pricked ears towards them.

“Don’t doubt it. Hey, Torgal," Gav addresses him directly. To Jill's confusion, the scout lowers himself to his knees before Torgal and holds his gaze seriously. "Listen here, okay? I know I'm no Clive, or Cid, and if I'm honest, I don't know if you even inderstand me. But if there's any chance you do, then I would really appreciate some help here. Can you help us find Clive?”

Torgal had listened intently. Once Gav finishes, the frost wolf rises and barks once, sharp and loud, tail wagging.

“That a yes? Yea?” Grinning widely, Gav gets back up, hands on his hip. “Okay, bud, I’m counting on you. Find him!”

As if he had only been waiting for it, Torgal ducks and starts sniffing. With his nose pressed to the ground, Torgal turns in a slow circle a few times, stops, raises his head to take another deep breath which audibly fills his lungs.

Before either Jill nor Gav can say anymore, Torgal stares barking and shoots off like the bolt of a crossbow, straight into the nearest thicket.

“Hope that means he got somethin’” Gav mutters grimly, and dashed after him.

Jill follows on his heels, heart hammering before she even takes the first few steps. Her throat is too tight to answer him. But Founder, does she hope he is right.

Their farfetched hopes to miraculously find Clive on the first try are quickly dashed. Whatever trace Torgal had picked up is lost in the sand - quite literally, as he loses the trail at the beach. He stops in front of the waves licking at the shore and sniffs, then whines long and low in his throat, walking back and forth along the shoreline.

Jill's heart drops. "Oh no. If Clive is somewhere st sea..."

"Aw, man," Gav has stopped next to her, and is pulling a face while scratching the back of his neck. "I almost hoped this is it. But if he's out there, Mid will find him. We focus on anything on solid ground."

Obviously having lost the trail for good, Torgal sits down at the shoreline and barks in the direction of the sea.

"I know," Jill catches up to him and bends to scratch his neck. "He was out there, wasn't he? But it would be better if he was not, anymore."

With a quiet whine, Torgal looks up at her, and nudges her with his nose.

She gibes him a shaky smile. "We will find him."

"Hey, look at this," Gav waves her over; while she had been distracted, he had rolled out the map again, pressing it against his tigh while he was studying it. He points out something on it. "Torgal is probably not that far off. We're here; and if I look at those currents Hapocrates wrote down for us, anything that falls into the middle of the Waloedian sea, will be washed in this direction. Most likely."

He looks up from his study and pulls a face. "It's a pretty big area, but we are right in th e middle of it."

"Then if we keep looking," Jill surmises, hope blooming in her chest, "our chances are not too bad."

Gav smiles grimly at her. "Let's go. Torgal!"

A bark, and Torgal darts off again in the direction of inland. They follow as fast as they can.

They spend the rest of the day searching high and low. Sometimes it is Torgal who runs ahead, following a trail only his sensitive nose can make out; sometimes it is Gav who tracks a trail and points them in a new diection. They search inland, double back towards the beach, adn then back. The shores with their washed-up goods seem especially promising to them, yet they also do not want to neglect the possibility that Clive could have dragged himself deeper inland.

If he was in any state to do so.

But whatever the try, and whatever trail they follow, they come up empty. By the time the sun has set, they have run themselves ragged, and are not any further than to begin. And there is only a small part of their assigned area they have not yet covered.

“Jill,” Gav calls out from behind her. He is sliding down a fragment of a ship they had checked for any hints, and lands heavily on the sand below. He stays seated for a while longer thsn neceassey, and then draws himself back up with a quiet groam. “I think we need a break.”

Jill does not give him an answer. She is surveying the besch, womdering in which direction to head nexr.

Gav does not make it so easy for her. “ Jill. ”

“I can’t stop looking, Gav. Not now," she calls back. It has gotten cold when the sun had gone down, and for the first time in a long time, she can really feel the chill affecting her. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, and shakes her head. "Not when-…”

" Hey ," Catching up to her, Gav drops an arm arouund her and rubs her shoulder gently. “I know. Trust me, I get it. But we’ve been at it for the entire day, and it’s damned pitch black by now. There’s gonna be monsters about in no time, and we’re in no shape for both search’ an ’ fightin’ beasts off.”

He is right of course, but it does not make it any easier. The decision costs her more than Jill would like to admit, but she finally gives in with a shaky sigh. "A short rest."

There is a sort of understanding pity in Gav’s eyes when she turns away from him, and she tries not to mind it too much.

They decide that they will leave Torgal in charge of keeping watch while they both take a short nap; it seems to be the fastest way to regain energy without stopping their search for long.

“We’ll find him,” Gav assures her once more as he slips into his bedroll. The map he has been pouring over in the dime light of the tiny fire they lit is still tightly rolled in his hand, as if he is loathe to let it go. “No much more to go on the search area, so we will find him soon.”

Jill does not point out that a small area being left does not mean they will be successful; it is redundant, since she knows Gav is aware of this as well. So she smiles shakily at him over the dying fire and nods.

As the fire begins to die out entirely and Gav’s quiet snoring begins to fill the air, Jill lies wide-awake in the dark, staring up at the nightsky.

Metia is still nowhere to be seen, despite the cloudless sky. The sight of the emptiness next to the moon sends a dull pang of pain through Jill’s chest.

Quietly, as quietly as she possibly can, she lifts her hands and folds them as if in prayer. “Please,” she whispers to the stars, the moon, whoever might be listening, “please, let him be safe.”

There is no answer to be found.

In the dark, Jill is not ashamed to let her tears flow silently once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their rest is a short one; they all are too restless to truly sleep. And so theiy pack up their things before the sun is fully up, and set out once ,ore.

Gav had been right, Jill surmises with a sinking feeling when she gets a look at their map, they do not have much more area to cover anymore. Only a bit of beach and a small bay are left to search now, and when they do not find anything there...

She will simply search somewhere else, Jill decides with a huff. She will not stop anytime soon!

While she is lost in thought, she almost misses when Torgal before her suddenly turns sharply and changes direction. She only realizes that the loyal wolf has left her sight when she looks up and does not spot him immediately. "Torgal?"

"Hm?" Next to her, Gav looks up from the possible trail he had been checking. "Where... ah."

He points, and when Jill follows his hand, she sees Torgal stand at the beach, completely silent, nose in the air and tail wagging slowly.

"You think he got something?"

"I dont know… Torgal?" She calls.

No answer. Torgal stays utterly unmoving -

Until he doesn't. Even from a distance, Jill can see the fur at the back of his neck rise, and spots a flash of teeth as Torgal seems to growl at something.

Gav must have seen it as well, since he reaches slowly for his sword belt and shoots a glance in her direction. Monster? He mouths quietly towards her.

Before Jill can so much as think about what to answer, Torgal moves again; he darts off with a single loud bark and sprints across the sand, off toward the far horizon. In a matter of seconds, he has crossed half the beach already, and he shows no hint of stopping any time soon.

Gav shoots to his feet, eye wide while he drops his weapon back into the sheath. “He wouldn't run towards danger, right?!”

“I don’t know,” Jill admits, just as thrown as he is. “Torgal! Wait for us!”

But her call seems to fall on deaf ears; by now, Torgal is only a moving shadow at the very edge of the shoreline.

“He stopped listenin’ now?! Come on!”

Together, they slide down the sand bank onto the sand below, and run after their companion. Of course, it is entirely impossible to catch up to Torgal by foot, but he seems to be making a point of staying in sight just so; Jill has no doubt that he could have shaken them off entirely if he only wanted to. Besides, his barking is now constant, and not easy to miss.

They run and run, Gav cursing more than once when the uneven and slippery sand sends him stumbling.

And then Torgal turns around a hill and is gone entirely from their sight.

“Torgal!” Jill calls out, now honestly worried for him and whatever has gotten into him. To leave them behind like that…

A sharp Bark! answers from out of sight, followed by howling. A small reassurance,

“Torgal!” Now Gav sounds worried as well. He gives another burst of speed and overtakes Jill, rounding the corner first. “Wait up, wait, you-… what...?”

Jill rounds the corner as well, panting, and then immediately has to stop as not to run into Gav, who seems to have frozen on the spot. “What is it?” She asks worriedly, attempting to push past him in order to see.

He lets himself be moved, completely unresponsive as he stares ahead. “It can’t…”

“What?!” Jill repeats, louder now, fear clamping down on her heart, and she shoulders past. And there, finally, she sees it too:

Torgal is ahead of them, running in a circle around something on the ground. They are too far away still to really make the shape of it, but to Jill’s hopeful gaze, the unmoving shadow looks very much like a person. A person in black armor.

As Torgal finishes another turn, she thinks she sees a distinctive flash of red across the fallen man's face, and tears begin to gather in her eyes.

“Clive…?”

Her whisper seems to jolt Gav out of his stupor, and he stumbles a step forward. “Clive!”

The tears start to fall – there is no doubt in Jill's mind, only wild hope, as she surges forward and calls out at the top of her lungs “CLIVE!”

Torgal sits down and howls at the skies while they dash across the beach towards them, all but flying the distance.

As they get closer, their hope gets confirmed – it is indeed Clive who is lying right next to the shoreline, unmoving and limb and terribly, sickly pale.

Jill is the first one too reach him, even before Torgal. She does not so much as kneel beside Clive as much as she falls, uncaring of the hard pang her knees give as they hit the ground and skid to a stop on the sand.

“Clive,” she whispers frantically as she reaches for him; he looks so quiet and pale, small in a way she is not used to from the broad-shouldered safety of him. “Clive!”

Her trembling hands find his face first, frame it briefly before she scrambles for his neck, brushing the wet hair clinging to the skin aside so she might find a spot to place her fingers. His chest looks still, unmoving, but-

Jill bites back a sob which threatens to burst out of her and leans forward, pressing her ear to his chest above his heart at the same time her fingers find the spot on his neck where an artery should lie.

Distantly, she is aware of Gav falling to his knees next to her, reaching for Clive as well. She does not pay it any mind; cannot, too busy listening for any sign of life.

Please, please, please!

She holds her breath, barely has the wits to count out the seconds while she waits an agonizing small eternity –

There .

The flutter of a pulse, weak as a baby bird’s wings, beneath her fingertips, and the smallest movement of the chest below her ear.

Jill makes a sound which could very well been have been a little scream and jolts backwards.

“What?” Gav’s voice is frantic and high, choking already while he stares at her. “What?!”

“He’s- he’s alive!” Jill sobs, and then laughs. “He’s-… there’s-…”

Gav’s shoulder fall so quickly it looks as if he might simply keel over right then and there. He reaches out, pushing Jill’s hand away to replace it with his own.

She does not begrudge him his need to feel it for himself, and watches with a trembling smile while he waits, and then, how his eyes fill with tears when he finds what he was looking for. He falls backwards into the sand, laughing a loud in a broken, trembling sort of way, and throws a hand up, rans it through his hair. “You bastard!” He barks, but his gaze is fond and relieved when he stares at Clive. “Never scare me like that again, you – I was kiddin ’ when I said I want your room, you berk!”

Jill bursts out laughing before she can help, the sound spiraling into a sob fast enough. She is absolutely hysteric with relief, now, and does not know if she wants to starts screaming or start laughing, so strong are the emotions swirling inside of her.

“We… we gotta get him back home,” Gav sounds as delirious with joy and relief has she feels, but he is pulling himself together faster; or attempts to, at least, since he nearly falls when he pushes up to his feet due to his shaking legs. “I could maybe carry him, but I dunno if that’s a good idea, we need- I will look for one of the other groups, figure out how we will manage. Why you gotta be so darned heavy, mate? Ach!”

“I will stay with him,” Jill decides immediately. She cannot bring herself to quite let go of Clive, now that she has him back; her hands flutter restlessly over him, pushing back strands of hair, stroking his cheek.

Gav shoots her a shaky smile "Didn't think you wouldn't."

“You would have to use force to move me," Jill tells him with a wet laugh.

“I know," walking backwards, Gav seems to have to force himself to look away from Clice. Finally, he turns away, and calls over his shoulder as he falls into a sprint. Be right back!”

The sound of crunching steps grows quieter, but Jill has already looked away again; as if drawn by an invisible force, her hand finds his way to Clive's cheek. “Clive.”

No reaction. His breathing, quiet but steady - visible now to her that she is looking for it - is the only indication that he is only unconscious and not...

Jill gulps, and shakes her head. No, don't think that. “Don’t worry,” she whispers, stroking his skin lightly. It feels too cold under her touch, almost clammy, but she tries to push that away for now. Bending over him, she presses a kiss to his forehead and whispers, “We will get you home. You’re going to be alright.”

There is, of course, no answer still. But as Jill looks up briefly, she is met with the sight of Torgal lying down next to Clive, pressed as close as he possibly can without lying on top of the man.

He is wagging his tail, and that is all the confirmation Jill needs. Torgal would not act this way if all hope was lost

And she herself is of the same opinion; Now that they have Clive back, there is no doubt in Jill's mind that everything will be alright.

Chapter Text

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gav is back at such a speed Jill would have accused him of magic, had that still been possible, and he brings a small army of helpers with him. While those who can fight double back to see that their loud approach has not called any monsters onto their trail, the rest of them discuss how to bring Clive back as swiftly as possible while also being as careful as possible.

Finally, they settle on building a makeshift stretcher with what they have and what they can find nearby; and between all of them, they manage to carefully lift Clive up on it to carry him back to a place where they can meet up with one of the search troupes on chocobo back.

The way back home is a slow one, taking much longer than it usually would since they have to be mindful on Clive's state. By the time they make it back, their nerves are frayed, jittery from being torn between hurrying and taking care.

Otto awaits them all as they come up. His grim face softens immediately when he spots the stretcher in between them, shoulders falling as a short half-smile flits over his face and eases the lines there.

"Rodrigue has already prepared the infirmary," he calls as the elevator comes up. "Go right through! And be careful with him!"

"We've been nothin' but!" Gav grouses, but there is no real heat in it. He shoulders past two men, and takes hold of the stretcher himself.

Jill follows close behind the group, Torgal at her heels. As they make their slow way through the Hideaway, several people follow them, trying to get a look at what is happening.

Their stares and voices feel like pinpricks on Jill's skin and she is glad when she can pull the door of the infirmary closed behind herself.

"Here, here," Rodrigue hurries towards them, directing them towards the isolated part of the room. "I prepared the bed and all my supplies here, lie him down, please, carefully."

Gav and the men are too busy lifting Clive's limb body off the stretcher over to the bed with quiet groans and a curse or two to protest once more over being careful.

Jill steps up to Rodrigue, who is watching the proceedings with sharp eyes and a pale, tight expression. "Will you let me assist you in the treatment, Rodrigue?"

"Gladly," he throws her a distracted smile. "I would - be grateful. I can use the help, I - Oh, I wish Tarja was here, but she accompanied Mid, I just hope-..."

Sensing that he is talking himself into a frenzy, Jill rests a hand on his shoulder and directs him to look at her. "But Tarja made you her assistant, did she not? She trusts you. And so does Clive."

Some of his jittery energy eases, and he smiles gratefully at her. "Right. Of course you are-... I can do this. Have to."

"This alright?" Gav interrupts. He is standing next to the bed they had laid Clive down on. He is fiddling with the cloak and sword sheath he had taken off the unconscious man, putting it aside nearly and then rearranging it, but seems unwilling to truly leave his side.

"Yes," Rodrigue seems to have gathered himself. He takes a deep breath, and begins rolling up his sleeves. "Now, please, Everyone except JILL - out. I need to focus."

The helpers do not grumble over being dismissed in this way; they go wilingly, muttering agreement and encouragement as they filter out.

Gav is the last one to go, patting Jill's shoulder before he, too, leaves and closes the door behind himself.

Left alone now, Rodrigue and Jill get to work

The next hour is a bustle of activity. Rodrigue's orders are firm and clear as he asks Jill to fetch him odds and ends, hold down this, hand him that. Where he had been a nervous mess before, he is now a picture of calm professionality. Jill does nothing to hide her proud smile while she does as she is told, and helps where she can. They clean, examine and treat Clive's wound, then give him a bit of water and lay him back down.

Finally, Rodrigue takes a step back with a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "There. That is all I can do for the time being."

Following his example, Jill steps back as well. She cannot quite bring herself to look away from Clive's unmoving form; he looks so... small. Vulnerable. The wounds they have cleaned and dressed are not deep, nor life threatening. What should have been reassuring only worries Jill further; it means that whatever is ailing Clive is something deeper, something they cannot treat with potions or tonics.

Frowning softly, she reaches up to her chest. There, dep down, she feels still the empty space where Shiva had been until two nights ago, a constant pulse of energy. Losing that energy had felt horrible, as if losing a limb. And that had only been one Eikon; Clive carried several.

How much did he have to sacrifice, to free them all?

"Will... will he be alright?" She hates how her voice shakes as she asks it, but she cannot help it. As much as she would like to remain strong, the way Clive had been so unresponsive during the treatment has grated on her.

"Hm?" Rodrigue had been clearing space off the table and arranging his equipment, but looks up at her quiet question. His eyes widen. "Oh! Yes, of course, I'm sure he will - I mean.  I am no Tarja, obviously, so - but I did all I could, and - and."

He falls silent, licking his lips and shaking bis head with closed eyes before he straightens with a deep breath.  "Sorry. I just meant. He is strong. He can make it."

Their eyes meet, and this time, Rodrigue sounds firm when he says with a soft smile, "He will be alright, Jill."

The reassurance - from a doctor no less - settles something inside of Jill, and she breathes in deeply. "Right. Of course."

"You were a great help," Rodrigue assures her while he begins cleaning again. "Now all he needs is rest. Probably a lot of it. Not much we can do for him now, apart from keeping watch, making sure he stays dehydrated, the likes."

"Would it be alright with you if I stayed?" Jill asks immediately. "I can do all of that, if only you tell me what needs to be done."

For a brief moment, the young doctor looks taken aback. "You don't need to - oh. Oh. Yes,  of course you would - yes, ah." He blinks, glancing between her and Clive and blushes a little. "Yes, yes, of course you will stay. It's just not... very comfortable in here."

"I do not mind. Thank you, Rodrigue."

"Not that for. Not for any of this," Rodrigue assures her. He smiles distractedly at her, then at Clive. "Clive... no, both of you, have done so much for this place. This is the least I can do."

Rodrigue proceeds to explain to her how to redress Clive's wounds, how to check if he is too dehydrated, how to look for any decline in his condition. A few of the things he tells her, Jill has learned in the past already; bits and pieces she has been taught, or forced to learn by watching it, on the battlefield or beyond. But she does not point it out, and instead watches intently, absorbing every single step of the process so she will be able to repeat it perfectly.

When all is said and prepared, Rodrigue excuses himself, but assures her that she can call for him whenever the need arises. Then he leaves her to it.

Alone now, Jill drags a chair over and settles down as close as possible to the bed, reaching over to take Clive's hand in both of hers.

He does not so much as twitch at the contact. Apart from the torturously slow rise and fall of his chest, there is no sign at all that he is still alive.

Shaking her head to get rid of that depressing thought, Jill smiles tremendously at him, and presses a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm here," she whispers. "I will be right here, until you come back to me... To us."

No reaction still; but she hopes that whether he is dreaming, or unconscious, part of him will hear her, and know he is not alone in this fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It does not take long for their visitors to appear.

Not even an hour after Rodrigue had left the infirmary, the door all but slams open, an audible crack against the wall, and someone thunders "Clive?!"

Having shot out of her chair at the noise, Jill turns just in time to take a step aside as Uncle Byron pushes his way past her; he only has eyes for his nephew and barely seems to notice her at all. "Is he -..."

There is something haunted in his eyes, all color having left his face, and Jill understands with cold shock what he is about to ask; what he is worried about.

 Shaking her head wildly, she grabs the man's trembling hand in hers and squeezes it, "He is on the mend, Lord Byron; he is healing."'

Byron finally rips his gaze away and turns towards her instead. His eyes are red-rimmed, stark amongst his ashen face. "He-...he will be fine?"

 "I promise," Jill answers immediately; she dares not question if she is only voicing her own prayers or telling the truth. "I promise, he will be alright."

For a tense second, there is no reaction; then the tension which Byron had been carrying snaps, and he sags as if his strings have been cut. He falls into the chair Jill has vacated moments ago with a bone-deep groan, throwing both of his palms over his face. That way, his words are muffled as he murmurs "My dear boy, the way you worry me."

Even hiding like that, it is audible how his voice shakes and threatens to break, and Jill feels a pang of sympathetic pain; not only because of the poor man's worry, but also because it reminds her of the night she and Clive had gone to meet his uncle for the first time in eighteen years. How beside himself with disbelieving hope the man had been! How overjoyed to have his nephew back! And now… In her own worry, she had not even stopped to wonder how Byron might feel at the thought of losing his nephews a second time, and now she feels ashamed with it.

Carefully, Jill lowers herself to one knee next to the man, and puts a soothing hand on his forearm. "Lord Byron. I am sure Clive will be fine."

There is an audible sniff between the lord's palms, before he clears his throat sharply and drops his hands, straightening. "Of course he will be," Byron manages with barely a tremor in his words. He reaches for Clive, but hesitantly draws his hand back before it can connect. His gaze does not waver, however, stays trained on the younger man's face with a fond kind of disbelief, as if making sure he is truly there. Despite that, he finishes firmly and proudly, "He is a Rosfield; we are quite the hardy bunch. And Clive more than anyone.”

Jill does nothing to hide her smile as she nods agreeably.

With one last look to the sleeping Clive, Byron suddenly pushes to his feet once more, looking determined now rather than worried sick. “Now that I’m sure Clive is safe and sound and in good hands, I will be off again. We still have to find Joshua, after all.”

Jill mirrors him and gets up as well. On one hand, she absolutely understands his need to get out of there and continue the search; if not for her worry for Clive’s safety making it impossible, she would have followed right behind. But still… “You only just arrived, Lord Byron. Are you sure you need no rest?”

“Hah!” He does not seem offended by her suggestion, but rather amused, winking cheekily at her. “I’m old, sure, but not that old. Still spry enough to keep up with some of those young ones out there!”

Amusement wins over the worry, and Jill answers with a smile of her own, “I would never suggest otherwise, of course.”

“Good, good!” Laughing good-naturedly, Byron turns to leave, but then stops, making a surprised face as if remembering something he had forgotten about. When he turns to a perplexed Jill once more, he looks almost sheepish, scratching his beard with a hum. “Would you do me a favor, Jill?”

“Of course, anything,” she answers immediately, a little surprised. “How can I help?”

“This might sound like the wish of an old fool but-… Perhaps, you could read to him?” Openly wringing his hands now, Byron explains with a look at Clive once more, “Before this entire mess happened, I brought back some books for Clive here, you see. The bound and illustrated version of The Saint and the Sectary, for one. Took me a while to find it, but, hm.”

His gaze softens further, embarrassment forgotten as he fondly smiles at his nephew.  "Figured he would like to read those again, sometime. Might be he has outgrown them, now, but since he always loved them so much…"

Instantly, all of Jill’s surprise melts away; she feels like melting right with it. “Oh Lord Byron!”  Smiling brilliantly, she claps her hands together. “He will love that! What a wonderful idea. Of course I will read them to him."

“You think so?” Perring at her carefully, Byron relaxes a bit and answers her smile with a grin of his own. “I cannot thank you enough. I will have them brought over then. Course, Sir Crandall has got nothing on my boy here, now, but he might still enjoy them."

“He will. And don’t let him tell you otherwise, Lord Byron.”

At her cheek, the man breaks into laughter once more, belly-deep and contagious. Jill joins him, relieved to remember how easy laughing really feels after all that.

She is startled out of her mirth when Byron reaches over and clasps one big hand over her shoulder, jostling her good-naturedly. “Splendid! But Jill, enough of that Lord nonsense! That is Uncle to you, don’t you forget that.”

“Oh, I-…” startled, Jill cannot help but gape at him. To call a Lord of Rosaria so familiarly…
she had been their warden, once upon a time, but nobody would expect a warden to address their caretaker as true family! “I could not possibly…”

“Bah! Nonsense, young lady – you have been family in all but name for so long now, and once Clive wakes up and finally makes an honest woman out of you, you will share our name truly, anyway,” Byron waves her weak protests off with nary a thought, “you would not hurt my feelings and insist on calling me by a ridiculous title now, would you?”

“I-.. ah-…” well and truly blushing and spluttering now and the suggestions flying around her ears, Jill wavers, then bursts out a hysteric little giggle, reacting a little to late to catch it behind her hand. Oh Founder. He is serious about all that, isn’t he?

Byron is grinning even wider at her, eyes dancing, and his good humor and easy acceptance makes it easy to come to a decision.

“… If it would hurt your feelings otherwise,” she admits, laughing a little still, “of course I will gladly call you whatever you want… uncle.”

“There you go!” Obviously delighted, the burly man draws her into a right bear-hug, pushing another laugh out of her along with her breath with his tight embrace. “Was that so difficult now?!”

“Not at all, Uncle” Jill admits. “Not at all.”

And if she clings to the man a little harder than she really meant to, both in relief and search of comfort…

Well.

Uncle Byron is kind enough not to comment on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not long after Uncle Byron had left with one last promise of not returning until Joshua had been found, a stola from Mid arrives.

A tired but amused looking Otto brings it to her, obviously biting down to a smile as he hands it to her. “Might want to see this.”

Surprised, Jill takes the message and unfolds it to read. In her back, she feels Otto lean over her shoulder to do the same.

Jill,

Heard Clive’s back and on the mend. Knew he would pull through, o’course! ‘s what we do in this family! And if he didnae, Dad woulda kicked him right back down ‘ere. So. Ye see. No way he wasn’t makin’ it back home! 

Take care of ‘im ‘til we’re back. Know I donnae’ve to tell ya, aye, but the git will nae stay down to rest as soon as he’s up, so you gotta make sure he does nae end up hurtin’ himself again

And. Tell ‘im he better wake up before I’m back. If I get home an’ he is not out of bed yet, I will kick the lazy berk’s butt outta there myself. He promised to go on a trip on the Enterprise with me once it’s all over, and he better not think I forget that. He’s her godfather after all.

Off to find Joshua and His Highness now. Leave it to me.

Love

Mid

“She would do it, you know,” Otto grumbles on a smile as they finish reading. “Kick his butt, I mean.”

Jill smiles back up at him. “Oh, I know. Isn’t it lovely?”

Her obvious enjoyment makes Otto snort a laugh, and he shakes his head. “Just as crazy as those two, you are.”

He pats her shoulder a little awkwardly. “Gav should be up any moment, by the way; he just got back from another trip and is setting up new search troupes – at least what he said. I think he just wants to have a look at our sleeping beauty here, make sure he’s alright. As if we don’t know what we’re doing here!”

“Can you fault him? We were out our minds with worry, that’s not going to go away so soon.” Jill chides him with a smile when Otto smirks at her, unrepentant. Lifting the missive, her smile softens. “Thank you, Otto.”

“Not that for. I will leave you to it.”

With one last fond look at her and Clive, the man turns and leaves the infirmary once more, drawing the door closed behind himself as quietly as possible.

Shaking her head fondly at his departure, Jill reads over Mid’s message once more, marveling how every single one of their friends has their own, unique way of showing care and worry and love, with not a single one being any less genuine than the other.

Her gaze falls on the last part of the message, noticing that one end of the paper is folded over twice. Curiously, she unfolds it, and finds another paragraph beneath it, in a different handwriting.

Jill

Got to add this quickly, before Mid runs off with this. I’m sorry I’m not there to look Clive over, but Rodrigue will do fine, I promise.

Should you still need more help, you will find a chest with my most potent high potions and strengthening tonics under my bed. Been storing those for any kind of emergency, or when supplies run low.

I’m counting this as an emergency, so. Help yourself.

See you soon

Tarja

Smiling, Jill glances up from the parchment over to the unholy amount of high potions Charon had sent Goetz over with earlier – for no payment at all. She doubts she will have much more need for any more, but the thought is a sweet one anyway.

Tucking the message between two bottles on the night table, turning it so it will be facing Clive when he wakes up, she settles back down more comfortably.

Behind her, the door clicks open once more, then closes again. When Jill glances over it is to see Gav approaching. He looks just as exhausted as Jill feels, maybe more so, but there is a spring to his steps, and a smile flashes over his face when his gaze lands on Clive’s sleeping form.

That, too, Jill can understand wholeheartedly, and she smiles up at him when he steps to the bedside and rests a hand on her shoulder.

“What did Rodrigue say?”

“He did everything he could, and thinks Clive will be alright" turning away from him, Jill fiddles with the blanket over Clive’s chest, drawing it down a bit so Gav can see the fresh bandages. “His wounds are taken care of; all we can do now is wait while he regains his strength.”

“He will,” Gav answers immediately, quirking a smile.

Jill hums in agreement while they exchange a smile. Only a moment later, however, something occurs to her, and her mood sobers somewhat. “Any news on Joshua and Prince Dion?”

To her dismay, Gav shakes his head. “Not yet, no. But the other search troupes are still out an’ about, and Mid is chasing the Enterprise in a zigzag course over the entire Waloeder sea at breakneck speed, last thing I heard. We will find them.”

“I see…” Those are not the happy news she had been hoping for, but then, perhaps it would be too unrealistic to except everything to miraculously become alright in the span of a day.

Gav must have sensed her mood swing, since he squeezes her shoulder gently, drawing her out of her musings. He indicates Clive’s peaceful face with his chin with a smirk, “Think he is staying asleep ‘til we find his little brother? Making us do all the work?”

Despite herself, Jill cannot hold back a chuckle, and reaches up to slap at his side. “You don’t even believe that as a joke.”

“Nah,” Gav laughs, and his expression softens while he looks back at Clive. “I know he would be at the very head of any search troupe himself, if he could.”

Releasing her, he steps closer to the bed and reaches over to pat Clive’s hand, perhaps a little awkwardly. “Just wait, pal. We will surprise you with good news when you wake up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Excuse me... Lady Jill?"

Surprised and a little disoriented, Jill looks up from the book she had been reading aloud in a low voice. She had not heard the door at all, to focused on the written tales of Sir Crandall defeating the evil Madu, while searching for any reaction from Clive to it at the same time.

Her searching gaze first lands on Torgal, who trotting over to her. "Hello there," she greets him with a smile, stroking his back as he stops briefly at her side before continuing on. She hears him jump up onto the bed behind her while she turns to her other visitor. "Edda? What a nice surprise!"

The young woman smiles at her where she is hovering by the door. She looks unsure of her welcome here, and her words confirm it. "I hope I am not disturbing you-..."

"Don't be silly. Some company is nice," Jill tells her warmly while she raises to get a second chair. "Please, sit with me. How is the baby?”

“Strong and healthy,” Edda explains while she carefully lowers herself onto the offered seat. She smiles down at the little boy in her arms, rocking him a little. He gives a happy little screech and grasps for a strand of her hair. Laughing quietly, the young mother finishes, “Especially his lungs, and his appetite.”

“Oh dear," Jill feels torn between real pity, and a giggle, unsure if the comment was to be taken serious or not. "If I can help, or you need rest-…”

Immediately, Edda's eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. “Oh, no, I was joking. Please don’t concern yourself with me – us. We got so many wonderful people helping us already.” Her expression softens as she looks down once mor; less at her son, and more reminiscing something. "Gav especially was a great help, of course. And all the women around the Hideaway have given me so much precious advice... I would be lost without them! And even Mister Otto seems to know more about child raising than I do."

Jill has been nodding along for the beginning of it - she does know, after all, how eagerly everyone had taken to supporting Edda - but by the end of Edda's little speech, she cannot help but feel that the younger woman sounds a little bit... ashamed, of those facts. Frowning slightly, Jill leans in and puts a hand on her arm, coaxing her to look up again. "I think raising a child is something that requires learning and practice, just like everything else. Don't you?"

A blush steals over Edda's face, and she looks away. "I-..."

So her guess had been right. Smiling gently, Jill clicks her tongue. "Edda, did you know that most of the women in the Hideaway have children of their own, or at least helped the others raise theirs?"

"I-... no?"

"And Gav grew up with siblings, and helped his mother around the house. And Otto..." here, Jill hesitates; she knows the gist of what had happened there, but feels like it is not her place to tell those tales. Changing course she goes on, "What I'm trying to say is that everyone you mentioned, already has that experience and practice. For you, this is your first child, so how are you supposed to know? You will grow into this. And until then, let us help you however we can. We will gladly be there for you."

During her explanation, Edda has listened quietly, apparently struck speechless. Only when Jill finishes does she smile slowly, a little bashfully, and ducks her head. "Oh... I know that, at least, Lady Jill," she murmurs, almost unconsciously drawing her son closer. Her smile is small but brilliant. "Everyone here has been so kind to me - to us, ever since I came here. It's... sometimes I can barely believe it."

She looks up sharply, as if remembering something, and looks over at the sleeping Clive. It makes Jill turn too, and take a look.

Of course there is little difference still; Clive is still unconscious. But she likes to think that he is getting some more color back in his cheeks with every passing day, and his breathing seems in better shape now. Tucked in with Torgal at his side, the frost wolf pressed to the man's side and wagging his tail slightly, he very well could have only been sleeping there.

"Master Clive, too," Edda explains, turning back toward Jill. "If it wasn’t for him, neither me nor my son would be here today. I cannot thank him enough. Please tell me when I can help?”

She looks determined now, eager to help. Softening immediately, Jill reaches for her and covers her hand with hers. “The offer is kind, but you’re already helping simply by being here. Clive will be so relieved when he wakes up and sees your boy born, and healthy to boot.”

Relaxing again, Edda turns her hand and grasps Jill's, squeezing it. "Of... of course. Do you think...? Um. Gav told me Master Clive would be alright soon...?"

"Yes, we are sure he is on the mend," Jill assures her. "There are chances he will wake up any moment now."

"Oh, what goof news!"

Edda seems to truly mean it when she exclaims it, and Jill smiles involuntarily at her. 

A squeal startles them both; their excitement, although subdued, seems to have upset the baby. He is moving about, kicking in his cocoon of cloth, and pulling a face.

"Shhh, shhh," Edda hushes him gently, rocking him. "Oh, he must be getting tired, he's a bit fussy..."

Jill watches the entire exchange with a strange kind of tug behind her breastbone. Like this, Edda truly looks like a mother and it is... touching in a kind of way Jill cannot quite grasp yet.

She must have been staring too long, since Edda looks up as if having felt her gaze, and immediately finds her eye. "Oh!" Smiling, the young woman waves her closer with two fingers. "Lady Jill, do you want to hold him?"

"Oh..." A little startled, Jill still instinctively scoots forward in her seat when the other woman leans over. "Are you sure? If he is fussy..."

"No, don't worry, It's fine. He is used to switching arms by now, everyone has been so eager to get a turn."

"I'm surprised they all got past Gav," Jill jokes, mostly to cover her own nerves. Edda has laid the boy into her arms now, and while it looked easy when Edda did it, now Jill finds it is quite the feat, to hold the baby so his head is supported while still holding tightly om the squirmy little body. I might not have experiences with this either.

Between the two women, they manage to get the little boy settled – and Jill finds herself assaulted with that sweet tug once more as she gazes at the bundle in her arms. The baby has fallen still and is staring at her with big, round eyes; obviously having realized that this is a new face looming over him.

The surprise only lasts for a beat or two before the little one seems to decide that this might as well happen, and tucks himself closer to Jill’s chest with a deep, weary sigh.

Jill all but holds her breath when the baby tucks in closer, nestling his face against her and apparently dozing off.

"You're doing great,” Edda assures her quietly, startling Jill out of her stupor.

“Oh!” Jill laughs, a little jittery. It does not feel like that at all, tense as she is, but at the assurance, she lets herself breath out slowly and relaxes. “I have no idea what I’m doing, honestly. He is making this easy for me."

Gazing down at the now sleeping baby once more, she reaches over with one hand to caress his cheek, marveling at the softness of it. She cannot seem to stop smiling. “He’s beautiful,” she whispers, awed. "Do you know what you will name him yet?"

Next to her, Edda takes a sharp, startled breath. “I-… About that..."

The strange reaction makes Jill look up from the babe, the lightness in her chest vanishing as she sees the young mother wringing her hands. "Edda? Is everything alright?"

If anything, Edda looks even more nervous, stuttering now not unlike the first few days after she had been welcomed in the hideaway. "I'm glad you asked, I-.... about the name-...I thought. Maybe you could give me your opinion on something, Lady Jill?"

"Please, Edda; simply call me Jill.” The request is made on instinct. Jill makes to reach out for the other, then realizes she cannot with the precious load she is carrying. She settles for smiling reassuringly at the young woman. "And if there is something I can help you with, I will gladly do it."

"It's not really help, it is - I was hoping to hear your opinion." Edda repeats, but now, she looks a little more settled. She even smiles haltingly back before taking a deep breath. "As you know, my son has no name yet. That is because… well. Actually, I wanted to wait for Master Clive to wake up, and ask him first, but... um. You see, I was... I was thinking of naming the child after him.”

After the onslaught of nervous words, Jill needs to take a moment to understand the conclusion, and when she does, she feels her mouth part slightly, in surprise. Oh. “You mean you want to name him Clive?”

Next to her, Edda suddenly goes pale, and shakes her head wildly. “Oh, no, I’m explaining this badly!” She exclaims, only serving to confuse Jill even further. She goes on talking, so fast it is hard to follow: “I meant, rather, the name he gave me when we first met? He said his name is Cid. Since he was so kind as to invite us back here, when we otherwise surely would have been taken by the Blight… it made me think about naming my child after our savior, you see. By now, I know it is not his real name, of course, but...”

With every word, she goes quieter, wringing her hands while she stares into her lap.

Where Jill had been too surprised to speak before, she now finds her voice desert her for entirely different reason. Tears prick at her eyes, and she would have loved nothing more than to hug Edda close, the sweet thing, but her arms are still full. “Oh, Edda,” her voice trembles with emotion. “Please do not be nervous about this - That’s a lovely idea. Cid was… is. Is, and always will be, someone very dear, to all of us.”

At her reassurance, Edda seems to finally relax fully. “Yes, that much I heard.” Her hesitant smile blooms into an awed, giddy one, and she reaches wordlessly for her child. Once Jill has handed the boy over gently, Edda gazes down at him with a watery smile, explaining quietly, “Everyone here speaks that name so fondly, and with so much respect. It’s so lovely that it made me think, maybe... and yet... I wondered if it might be a bit of a big name, for someone so small.”

“It is the name of a someone who made a great impact on our lives, yes” Jill agrees with her, in the same gentle tone. “But even more than that, it is also the name of a dear friend, of a good father, and of a man who brought kindness and hope to those who did not have any left. I think it is a wonderful thing, to give your boy a name with such a meaning.”

Edda sniffles, tears in her eyes as she listens. " Do you... Do you think Master Clive will be alright with it?"

"He will be delighted. You're making him a great gift with this,” Jill assures her immediately. Then she reaches out and finally draws the young woman in so she can hug her carefully, she and her baby. “As you do for all of us.”

Edda tucks her face against Jill’s neck as best as possible in her position, and gives a shaky laugh. “Then I hope all the more that Master Clive will wake soon. I can’t wait to have him meet little Cid.”

Between them, the baby gives a little, happy cry, and both women look at each other, then at the little one, and burst out into happy laughter.

“You know,” Jill sniffles once they have calmed down somewhat. “I think he likes the name.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One could assume that with all those visitors, Jill was hardly left alone in her vigil, but that is not quite right. Every time one person leaves, there are hours to cover where Jill is entirely alone in the infirmary apart from the sleeping Clive.

If she is honest with herself, deep down, she might even prefer it like that. It might seem ironic, considering Clive is not awake, but this was the first time in a very long time where they were alone, and not busy with their many duties. It gives her time to simply sit with him, no pressing matters or worries to attend, and only his peaceful breaths to fill her ears with.

Sometimes, someone attempts to coax her away from his bedside, citing that she needs her rest, or a break. Otto gruffly points out that she needs some sunlight, at some point, and Rodrigue frets over her health more than once. But Jill rejects them gently but firmly, and only asks for her food to be brought up to her, if it is no trouble.  Little naps are taken in a bed nearby, but most of her time, she fights sleep for as long as she can to keep up her vigilance.

The rest of her time is spent watching Clive, or reading to him, or simply holding his hand, hoping he might somehow sense her presence and now they are all waiting for him.

And her diligent vigil pays off, when finally, days after they had brought him back, she is the first and only one to see a definite change in his state.

Jill has just gotten up to get a fresh wet towel to dab some more moister onto Clive's lips with; they had seemed a little dry when she had changed his bent over him to check for a fever (which, thankfully, was not to be found).

Bent over the water basin, she takes the time wash her own face briefly, then goes to dib the towel in.

Behind her, there is the quietest sound of movement. At first, it does barely register to Jill – she thinks it a settling of the wood of the chair she had just left, or a breeze from one of the windows.

But then, it repeats… followed by a quiet cough.

The wet cloth slips from Jill’s fingers, and she whips around, heart in her throat. With batted breath and a buzz in her ears, she searches for Clive.

He is moving. Not the involuntarily little twitches of sleep, but a more purposeful movement – his face twitches, his chest hitches as he breathes in deeply and finally, finally his eyes flutter open.

For the first time in days, his eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling above him with slow blinks.

Jill’s heart is beating so fast, she feels she might faint. "Clive?"

She wants to yell it; to scream it. Instead, she cannot bring herself to speak louder than a breath.

And yet, he hears her. His gaze is bleary as it swings around, towards the sound of her voice. His eyes lands on her and he stares.

For a beat or two, there is no recognition, and Jill’s heart stops, then starts racing like a hare’s. What if he is not really awake at all? Or does not recognize her anymore?

Then, slow as thawing snow, Clive’s eyes clear, and his lips twitch and pull up into a lazy, bright smile. “Jill.”

It is no louder than she had been, rough and trembling, but it is possibly the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. Overcome, she laughs, then sobs dryly, and slaps a hand in front of her mouth. Beneath her palm, she can feel her smile spread, going so wide it hurts.

Still staring at her as if he is drinking her in, Clive suddenly moves, shifting in place. He doesn't come far; almost immediately he falls still again, groaning through grit teeth.

The sound of pain is enough to pierce through the happy stupor Jill has fallen into, and she gasps, surging forward to rush to his side. "Sshh, no, don't move," she pleads with him, taking his hand in hers, then lowering it again in favor of drawing the blanket he had thrown off with the movement back over him.  "You... you should rest still. You're in no shape to move about yet...."

She is babbling, she knows it, but the words won’t stop, her brain focusing on tiny facts so it does not have to grapple with the bigger revelation – he is awake. He is awake.

Clive is looking at her, but he seems not to be listening. His gaze is hazy but his smile brilliant as his eyes track her face, and a hand comes up to touch the side of her cheek.

The simple touch, barely a featherweight, makes Jill freeze in place and hold her breath. It is warm, and real. She almost feels sick another wave of relief, so strong is the feeling.

“’You're here,” Clive murmurs, stroking the apple of her cheek lightly.

He sounds well and truly awed, as if he had really thought she would not be by his side, and that cannot stand. Covering his hand with hers, Jill shakes her head at him. “Of course, I am. Where else would I be?”

“Mhm.” Now Clive seems to have become fascinated by their hands overlapping, since his gaze is glued to them. He blinks slowly, and as if moving through syrup, drags his gaze back over to hers. “How’re you?”

It takes a bit for her to understand what he means, but once she does, Jill blurts out a startled little giggle which turns into a hiccupping sob halfway, and shakes her head in disbelief. “How – you just woke up, and you’re asking me how I am?”

“Mhm. You’re cryin’.”

The words hit her like a light slap, and she reaches for her own cheek, truly surprised. When she finds wetness there, she actually feels a little shocked; when had she started to cry? “I…”

Clive’s smile vanishes slowly, and instead he frowns, attempting to catch her tears with a shaky yet infinitely gentle hand. “Don’t cry.” His voice is softer even than his touch, his eyes imploring. “’Don’t cry, Jill. Please.”

His gentleness combined with the dizzying fact that it is real is enough to elicit another wave of tears. Sniffling now while she stops his hand with hers, Jill laughs quietly, leaning in rest to her forehead against his. "Happy tears," she assures him just as quietly as he was. "These are good tears, Clive. I promise."

It is obvious that he does not fully understand; that he is not quite there with her yet. But her closeness seems to calm him, since he does not attempt to protest or stop her tears any longer. She more feels than hears his breath hitch before his hand comes to rest on her neck, holding her close.

"Jill," he repeats, reverent as a prayer.

“I’m so glad. I’m so glad you-…” Jill gulps in a breath, determined not to cry any longer; it proves to be more difficult than she would like. “You came back to me.”

“Mh. Course." Clive's words begin slurring together at the edges, sleep dragging him back under. But he is stubbornly fighting it, blinking long and hard to keep looking at her. “Love you.”

Of course that is enough to have Jill lose the fight. She sobs out a laugh and holds on tighter, stammering, “I know. I love you too."

Clive hums sleepily. His thumb rubs slow, soothing circles into her neck while his eyes fall closed once more. While his breath evens out once more, Jill holds onto him, her forehead pressed against his cheek, matching her breathing to his.

She does not know which one of them falls asleep first, wrapped up in each other, each other’s breaths and heartbeats their only lullaby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FF ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conscious returns to Jill slowly. She blinks awake, head empty still, and tries to gather her thoughts and awareness once more. She must have slept deeply, she mused, maybe for the first time since Clive had left with Origin as his goal.

Clive....

Clive!

Memory returns with the shock akin of a bucket of cold water, and her eyes snap open while she turns, searching for what must be there.

And it - he - is there, she realizes immediately, the panic going up in smoke.

Clive is lying directly next to her, and he is awake. He seems not to have noticed yet that she had woken up; instead, he is looking at his left hand, lifted up towards the ceiling so he can look it over without raising his head.

Jill's heart gives a painful pang. She knows what he is studying so intently there; in the bright morning light, the greyish white color on his fingers is visibly clearly, making it unmistakable that the sickly white has spread over the appendages all the way up to his palm.

Up until now, he had always been unaffected by the overexposure to aether, no matter how many battles he fought, or how many Eikons he carried. Origin’s fall, or perhaps his efforts before that, seems to have changed this.

“I’m sorry,” Jill bursts out, no louder than a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

At the sound of her voice, Clive’s hand falls, and he turns towards her immediately. Once his gaze settles on hers, a slow, brilliant smile stretches over his face. “I didn’t dream you, then.”

The quiet admission makes her giggle despite herself. “You thought I was a dream?”

“I seem to be dreaming the strangest things, lately. At least I think I was dreaming, sometimes,” Clive smiles back at her, before frowning slowly. “But what are you apologizing for?”

Her smile falls at the reminder. “Your hand.”

“My…” as if he has forgotten about it again, Clive looks down at the whiteish hue of his fingers and then startlers her by laughing quietly. “Jill… it is only one hand. I have another one.”

He looks up once more, and his face grows softer, eyes brighter. Reaching out to her with his good hand, he stops shortly before touching her, as if unsure if allowed. “I have you.”

The segue seems nonsensical; but something about it makes Jill’s heart squeeze with emotion, and tears spring to her eyes once more. The reality of this – of him, alive – slams into her fully now, chasing away the last remains of sleep. Hiccupping a sob, she pushes herself up just enough that she can move, and all but flies the short distance towards him, throwing her arms around him.

Without missing a beat, Clive’s arms warp around her gently, holding her as close as possible; when he buries his face in her shoulder, it feels as if he might try to inhale her.

Jill would not mind one bit, since she is attempting to do the same. The solidness of him; the warmth, where he had been so cold to the touch when they found him; his breath in her hair, his scent filling her senses. It all makes her sob out a laugh, and cling ever tighter. “You’re awake,” She still cannot truly grasp that fact; to think she had almost given up for a moment… she sobs all the louder. “You came back to me.”

“I promised,” Clive’s voice sounds as choked as hers, and there is wetness pressed against her neck. “I love you, Jill. I will always come back.”

Something inside her finally settles, his repeated promise a balm to her hurt heart. Carefully, Jill pushes back just far enough that she can resettle without letting him go, can coax him to look up and lean her forehead against his. “I know. I – really, truly know.”

She more feels than hears Clive's hum. His thumb finds her cheek, swiping over it; gathering the wetness there. “I always seem to make you cry,” he mutters, a thread of true regret in his voice.

“No” Jill protests immediately, almost offended at such a suggestion. “You always make me happy.”

His brows lift, eyes brightening as he smiles. His thumb stills, his whole hand covering her cheek. "Jill."

She knows that tone of voice; reverent and questioning, gentle and warm. It is the most natural thing for her to lean in, tilt her head the same time Clive does.

The kiss is little more than a brush of lips; a gentle caress of welcoming and relief. It tastes wholly like the opposite of the kiss before Origin, which had carried hints of goodbye and sadness.

Jill would have loved nothing more than to sink into it and stay like this forever. She almost did, softening and melting into the gentle touch, hands stroking mindlessly over Clive's shoulders to his hair, holding fast...

Only that then, some inane part of her brain noted that it had gotten a bit longer, since she had had to let him go. They should have cut it, maybe, while he slept...

And that is when the wonderful moment grinds to an abrupt halt, because her mind snags on the word "they".

They.

They?!

With a gasp, Jill rears back and up, out of the kiss, with a surprised "Oh!"

For half a beat, Clive looks lost, before his gaze softens with amusement. "Oh?"

"I-...the others!" Jill explains, or tries to, as she hurries to her feet, feeling torn between embarrassment and giddy relief so strong it makes her want to giggle hysterical. "They don't know yet that you - I have to tell them you woke up! Oh, Gav should still be here, if I hurry I-..." she stops, turns back towards Clive. He has settled back against the pillow and is watching her with gentle amusement.

Calming a little, Jill breathes out and smiles at him. "I will be right back."

"I know," Clive answers simply; echoing what she told him so often back at her.

Her smile widens, heart light despite how full it is. Assured like this, Jill dashes for the door and throws it open.

“Gav!” She calls out on a gasp, leaning out into the hall as far as she can without stepping out. “Is Gav here?!”

Her cry gets the attention of Otto, who had been talking with Gaute down in the mess. He is already moving toward the stairs as he calls back, looking pale and tense, “He’s with Charon, should be. What’s going on?”

“He’s awake!” Jill laughs, and sobs, all in one breath. “He’s finally – please get Gav, Otto, please!”

“He's-…” Otto looks a bit like he has been slapped, eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock, before his dark face clears like the clouds after a storm, and he smiles brilliantly in a way Jill has never seen from him. “I. Yes. Hang on, I will get him!”

And he runs off at a speed which belies his age, hollering Gav’s name.

Stepping back, Jill closes the door once more, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart is threatening to overflow with happiness. When she turns around, Clive is still watching her, eyes tired but bright. Wordlessly, he stretches out a hand towards her palm offered up.

If he intends it or not, the gesture is gallant, not unlike the knight he once trained to become, and which he is still at heart, in Jill's opinion. Smiling so wide it hurts, she readily lays her hand in his, and sketches a tiny curtsy in answer before settling next to him onto the mattress, her hand in his and her head on his shoulder.

The way he breathes in under her ear - is warm and solid and alive next to her - has her heave a relieved sigh, a burden lifting from her shoulders finally.

Clive must have heard it, since he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head in reassurance. He says nothing, but the way he squeezes her and leans into her says it all.

They sit there in comfortable silence until they hear heavy, hasty steps on the stairs outside; feet taking two steps at a time.

Then the silence is effectively broken when the door slams open with such a force that wood splinters, and Gav stumbles into the room in a flurry. He is panting, eye wide and hair in disarray as he pants out, “Really?! He’s awake?!”

Jill is laughing once more while she sits up more, nodding wildly, as if he cannot see the truth for himself. Next to her, Clive smiles slowly, looking a little tired, and greets their friend, “Hello Gav.”

The simple greeting alone seems to freeze Gav in his tracks, all the rush bleeding out of him while he stands speechless.

While the man is still standing frozen, a solid shadow pushes past him. Torgal trots across the room at speed, mouth drawn up in a dog-smile and panting, tail wagging. He is beside the bed in two steps, and jumps up onto the bed with such a force it dips the entire mattress to the side. Jill barely has the time to stand up and make way before the frost wolf reaches his master, panting and woofing, going straight for Clive's smiling face.

Spluttering only a bit and turning his face away, Clive catches Toegal around the neck to hold him away, laughing heartily. "Yes, hello, I missed you too Torgal."

Smiling at the display, Jill reaches over to pat the dear animal's back. "He's the one who found you, you know?"

"I don't doubt it," Clive's eyes are bright with smile and tears while he scratches Torgal's ears. "The finest hound in all of Valisthea, you are."

A choked sound from the door makes them look up once more. Gav is still standing there, eye wide and face ghostly pale.

A thread of worry pierces through the buoying happiness Jill feels. That is not the reaction she had expected…

Clive must feel the same, since his smile dims, and he let's go of Torgal. "Gav?"

His voice seems to startle Gav out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Hello Gav?!” He repeats, voice strangled; he seems unable to rip his gaze away from Clive, as if hypnotized; his hands are shaking while he takes another step forward, then stops, brows drawing together as if suddenly realizing something. His voice rises further, cracking a little. “Hello Gav, he says. Just like that-… Founder, Clive, do you have any idea how - ?!”

He breaks off, looking caught somewhere between bursting into tears any second now, and wanting to yell at the other man.

Feeling cold now, Jill holds her breath, suddenly unsure. Clive seems to be of the same mind; his expression softens, and his smile falls. “Gav, I’m sorry…” 

“And now he says sorry!” Slapping a hand over his eyes, Gav takes a deep breath, murmuring on a tremble, “You’re such a – shit. Jill, Torgal, you both you gotta move over, I gotta hug this berk.”

Worry is replaced by warm, bright relief, and Jill obediently stumbles further away with a laugh, out of the line of fire. Torgal does the same, leaping off the bed readily. Just in zime for Gav to take the last huge steps over to the bed and throw his arms around Clive in a tight hug, strong enough to nearly lift the taller man off the mattress.

Clive grunts, then huffs, and carefully lays one arm around Gav's shoulders, patting his back. “Careful.” he mutters, humor warm in his voice. “I’m hurt.”

“Ah, shut yer trap, deal with it.” Gav's voice still sounds tight and wet, but there is a smile there, and the grip on Clive gentles notably. Without letting go, he glances over Clive's shoulder at Jill, eyebrow raised. "You told the others already?"

"I only told Otto to get you," Jil answers, wiping away the new tears of relief gathering on her eyes.

Letting go of Clive, Gav pushes away, looking determined and amused at the same time. "I’m gonna tell them.”

Instead of happy, Clive looks faintly horrified at this, sighing a little. “I only just woke up. Can’t you wait five more-…”

“Nobody is asking you,” Gav interrupts him firmly, but he is grinning from ear to ear, even as he rubs a shaky hand over his eye and nose. Exchanging a grin with Jill, he turns around and hurries back toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “Might want to cover your ears!”

And the door slams shut behind him.

Watching him go, Clive seems to deflate somewhat, looking tired to the bone. Huffing out a weak laugh, he rubs a hand over his face.

Sensing what he is thinking about, Jill chuckles. “They will be happy to see you.”

“They will be loud,” Clive huffs another laugh, shaking his head. “I feel a headache coming on. Should have stayed asleep.”

“No chance.”

Her immediate answer makes him pause, and he looks up, eyebrows raised and laughter flashing in his eyes. “No?”

“No,” Jill tells him firmly, shaking her head. “If you had stayed asleep any longer, I would have woken you up myself.”

The laughter spills from his eyes, transforms his entire beloved face with how it brightens on a smile. "And how would you have done that?"

“It would have been very easy,” Jill assures him, while stepping back towards the bed and leaning over him. She holds his gaze utterly serious for a beat, before the smile breaks through and she leans into him with a grin, their foreheads touching together, “I simply would have called Mid over to do it for me.”

Clive's faintly curious expressions cracks immediately, smile blooming into a full-blown laugh; and when hearing him breath and talk had been a wonderful sound already, then hearing him laugh feels like sunshine after a storm. Jill joins into it gladly, feeling as if the world is finally alright again.

They are only separated when outside, loud cheering and whistles can be heard, voices rising in a cacophony of joy which is not even muffled in the slightest by the infirmary door.

The noise quickly grows louder, like a fast approaching, unstoppable wave rolling towards them.

While Clive looks faintly exhausted already, Jill is pressing a hand to her mouth to hide her smile while she glances at him. “They love you. So much.”

Instantly, his expression softens. “And I, them.” Still, he reaches for her, eyes amused yet pleading.  “Stay with me? I might not manage all of them alone.”

She wants to laugh at him for being so dramatic; to tease if the stories he liked so much as a child had impressed deeper on him than he realizes. But the real hope in his eyes stops her short, and laughter is the last thing on her mind. “Of course I will.” she assures him, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers tightly. “Always.”

He smiles at her then; that same nearly shy but no less genuine smile he already had when they were children, which always made her smile back near helplessly.

It is to be the last quiet moment they shall have for a while; a second later, the already abused door flies open once more, and what seems to half the inhabitants of the Hideaway fill in, shoving and pushing at each other as everyone attempts to be the first, every one of them smiling to widely and too excitedly to care about being shoved. A shout of joy rises out of half a dozen mouths as they all descend on them as one, “CLIVE!”

In the general noise, Jill laughs so hard she is crying once more, ducking into Clive's shoulder while she refuses to let him go even as they are smothered in a group hug by their friends. There is Otto's voice bellowing for some semblance of quiet, but he is laughing too; there is Gav, the very first to reach them; Blackthorne, who slaps Clive’s back with the force of a blacksmith and the underlying gentleness of relief; and above all, the shriek of little Cid where Edda is standing to the side from the worst of it.

And there, next to her, Clive, his hand tight in hers as he protects her with his free arm from the worst of it, grinning down at her with mischief and tears of gratefulness in his eyes.

Somewhere deep down, the void Jill had been feeling since the fall of Origin begins to fill once more, and she cannot help but laugh back up at the man she loves.

They will be alright. Here and now, there is no doubt in her mind.

They will be just fine.