Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fact that Beldonna had made up the guest bedroom for him was a clear enough message. Untucking his shirt, Chilchuck pulled off his belt and laid it on the chair, next to his coat and boots. Padding over to the basin, he poured some water in it from the chipped enamel pitcher and started to wash.

Someone knocked at the door and he straightened, toweling his face dry. "Come in?"

Beldonna was in her nightgown, folded blanket in her arms, feet bare. "It gets cold in here at night, since there isn't a fireplace," she explained. "I thought you could use another comforter."

"Um. Thank you."

He watched as she moved to his bed and spread the comforter over it. It was stupid of him to even imagine that they could just pick things up the way they'd been, like the past three years had never happened.

That was exactly what he wanted to do.

"Bel," he said, and then stopped.

She looked up from fluffing the pillows. "Yes?"

What could he possibly say? 'If it's going to be so cold, why don't we share our warmth?' 'Does your bed have room for both of us?' 'I just want to be husband and wife again?' 'Hey sexy?' "Nothing," he said, turning back to finish washing his face. "Thank you for the blanket."

When he turned back, she was sitting on the bed, her feet tucked up beneath her. "You said you brought a cookbook with you," she said, "Can I see it?"

"Oh. Um, of course." He got it out of his pack and handed it to her. "I haven't read it myself yet," he warned, as she untied the twine around it. "And some of the recipes might be a little... unorthodox."

She opened it, flipped through the pages, then looked up at him. "It's in Common."

He scratched his head. "Sorry, I should have thought. Fler can translate, and --"

"There's an inscription here," she interrupted, "It looks like a few different hands. Can you read it to me?"

Please be something normal, he prayed silently, sitting next to her to look. "They're from my party," he told her. "The first one, that's the leader's handwriting. He says, uh." He whispered the Common to himself, then translated. "'Thank you for everything, I hope we can have many more meals together. Come to visit soon.' Then this one, that's the one who came up with most of the recipes. He says, 'I have included notes about...'" he squinted, trying to come up with a decent cognate. "'the philosophy of eating well, so that you can live a long and healthy life.'"

"Philosophy of eating well?"

"He's a bit of an odd duck," Chilchuck sighed. "That one's not anything, just a scribble. Probably the cat. Then Namari, you've met her, she writes, 'Eat well.' At the bottom there, that's our healer, she says 'I cannot wait to try all of these recipes and I hope you and your family will help me prepare some,' and then this long one, here..." Taking the book from his wife, he peered at Marcille's small, neat handwriting. "'Dear Chilchuck,' he translated, 'The word 'companion' comes from the word 'to break bread with.' From antiquity, there has always been a link between sharing food and sharing friendship. Please share these meals with your family, and I hope that your family will share these meals with us. Your companion, Marcille.'"

"They sound nice."

"They are." Chilchuck shook his head, handing the book back to her. "Crazy to a one, but nice."

Bel paged through the book slowly, studying the pictures. "I think I recognize some of these," she said, "I'll have Fler help me and we might make something for dinner tomorrow."

"I'd like that." Looking at her profile, Chilchuck's heart ached. He wanted to say something that would fix everything. But there were no such words.

Instead, he stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed. "I've had a long day," he said. "Do you mind if..."

"Not at all," Beldonna told him, turning down the gas lamp and not making a move to get up.

Chilchuck froze, trying to interpret. Did she intend to stay the night with him? Did she want him to ask? Did she maybe not notice, or had she somehow forgotten?

Giving up, he pulled off his trousers and got between the sheets. Thumping the pillow a few times, he laid on his back for a moment, then turned to look at his wife. She was still studying the book by the light from the lamp, her lovely face inscrutable.

Then, with a sigh, she put the book aside and slipped beneath the covers herself, lying on her side to face Chilchuck in the dim glow. "I'm glad you're back," she said.

There were a thousand and one things he wanted to tell her, but all he could manage was "I am, too."

"This king you mentioned. Have you met him?"

"You could say that." Chilchuck chuckled. "I didn't want to tell Flertom, because I knew she'd get hysterical about it. And you have to promise not to tell anyone else, at least not yet."

"I promise," Bel told him, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"He was my party leader."

She gasped softly. "The one who wrote in the book?"

"The very same."

"Is he really like what they say?"

"As I said, I don't know about handsome. He's a Tallman. Always treated me fair, and more canny than you'd think to look at him. Crazy, like I said, but good. He earned that crown fair and square."

"He didn't really devour a demon," Bel said.

"Technically he ate a physical manifestation of the demon's link to this world."

"Actually ate it?"

"Once Flertom starts translating those recipes, it will make a bit more sense."

"And the cat?"

Chilchuck groaned. "Oh, I'm sure you'll meet her before long. Some sort of artificial beast-man, she seems to think I was put on this earth to be her personal bed-warmer. My friends and I have been doing our best to civilize her, but I'm afraid it's a lost cause. Although she did save us from succubi."

"Succubi?"

"It was a whole swarm of them. My comrades fell one by one. I fought them off as best I could, but they eventually overwhelmed me with sheer force of numbers."

She pouted. "Should I be jealous?"

"Of bugs?"

"What did they look like?"

Propping himself up on his elbow, he cradled her face in his hand. "They had," he said, kissing the hollow of her throat, "Your neck." Another kiss. "Your chin. Your nose," a kiss on each. "Your eyes," kissing her closed eyelids, "And your lips." He lingered on her mouth. Then he added, "And blonde hair."

Snatching up a pillow, she walloped him and he fell back, laughing. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, getting up on her knees and pummeling him playfully. "You awful, awful man! I should just let them have you!" She squealed as he hooked a leg around her and pulled her down, rolling her over and pinning her arms to her side in a hug.

"I am awful," he grinned, looking into her smiling face. "Look at me. It's been one day, and I've already seduced you into my bed."

"Why, Mr. Tims," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. "You think that you're the one who's been doing the seducing?"

Chapter Text

"Well?" he finally asked, when their breathing and pulses had steadied again.

"Well, what?"

"Was that 'Hello,' or 'Goodbye'?"

"I don't know, Chil," she sighed, nestling closer to him. "I'd rather be a wife than a widow, but I'd rather be a full widow than the partial one you made me for so long."

Neither of them said anything for a while.

"Why did you come back?" she finally asked. "What do you want?"

He thought about the question. Then, "I just want it to be like this forever," he said softly. "You and me together. But..." It was his turn to sigh. "I need to pee. Don't laugh, there's a point. I have to get up out of this bed sooner or later, and so do you. And then we'll have to get dressed, and there will be water to be pumped, and linens to be washed, and, and, and." lifting his hand, he looked at how her fingers laced together with his. "You said you want time. I just don't know how to give that to you."

She was quiet. 

He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, then let go and rolled upright. 

When he got back, she was resting her forehead on her knees, arms crossed, the way she'd done when she was thinking hard about something ever since they were kids. Without looking up, she asked, "What would it be like if I came back with you? Not what you want it to be, what would it be?"

"I don't know," Chilchuck said. He couldn't be anything but honest with her, not now. "The dungeon's gone, and I'm too old for it anyway. But I can't stop working. Bel, I don't want to stop working. Maybe you're right, maybe it's just because I want to feel useful and important. It's good work though, and I'm proud of it."

"Hm." She didn't say anything for a moment, still with her head down. Finally she straightened and sat back against the pillows. "I guess I'd hoped that when I left..." she trailed off. "Never mind."

"No, tell me. You hoped what?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You hoped, what, that you could make me do something? That you could leverage me, that you could force me to do what you wanted? Because I swear, Bel, if this was all some sort of test —" he realized his hands were shaking. 

She frowned at him. "What do you mean, 'test'?"

"Tell me you didn't leave just to see if I would come after you."

"What?" She laughed. "Like in a romance novel? Goodness, Chil, what kind of butterfly-brain do you take me for?"

She was right. He should have known better than to let Marcille get to him. "Okay. Yeah. That was stupid."

"I left..." she ran her hands over her face. "I left because I felt like I was drowning. Like I'd been swimming for shore all those years, and at the last moment it disappeared. That you'd taken it from me." 

"So you wanted to hit back at me?"

"No. No, I wasn't hitting at you. I know it had to have hurt, Chil, but it would have hurt so much worse if I'd told you." 

"I don't think that's possible. You said I took the shore away from you, but you..." He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to remain calm. "You were the reason I had to stay alive, Bel, you and the girls, all those years. That's what you took from me. You really think that giving me an explanation would have made that hurt more?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Because I would have told you that I hated you. I would have told you that you were killing me, that being married to you was worse than having no husband at all. I would have —" her breath caught. "I would have told you that it made me sick to see your face in Meijack's, your eyes in Flertom's and Puckpatti's."

Chilchuck's throat hurt.

"I hoped that when I left, I'd stop being angry at you."

Looking at the ceiling, Chilchuck swallowed. "I was angry, too."

She waited for him to find the words.

"It's just... for thirteen years. That was my whole life I kept giving to you, and, um." Breaking off, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "It turned out all my life was worth to you was a scribbled note. You looked at everything I gave you, and you decided that was a fair exchange."

"You really think of us that way?" 

He looked at her, surprised.

"You think of us in terms of buying and selling? This is all just... some sort of business arrangement?"

"Don't twist my words."

"No, that's exactly what you said. This is a contract dispute to you."

"Bel, it's our marriage. You're the one who said it, we swore vows to each other. If you're going to accuse me of not keeping those vows, I think I have a right —"

"A right? You're talking rights to me? What's next, you're going to be asking for backwages and overtime?"

"What..." he stammered for a minute. "I'm trying to tell you how I feel! Why am I the bad guy for that?"

She glared at him. "You haven't changed one bit."

"You're right," he snapped. "I haven't. I'm the same man I always was, and that used to be good enough for you."

"That's not what I mean. You're not the same man I married, you're the same man I left."

"Was I or was I not a good husband?"

"A good husband?" She laughed, harsh and hard. "Oh, you tended and plowed. You provided, I can't fault you that. You were always a good husband. But you were a bad friend." 

Opening his mouth to retort, he stopped, then closed it again. He'd forgotten. They had been friends at the start, hadn't they? Best friends, even.

How would he talk to one of his friends?

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to her. "I'm sorry," he said, simply.

She didn't answer. The silence stretched out between them.

He ran his hands through his hair. "This is what it would be like, Bel. More of the same." He looked at her. "Can you live with that?"

"I don't know." Picking up her nightgown from the foot of the bed, she pulled it on over her head. Then she sighed, and patted the blankets next to her. "But I can sleep with it. At least tonight."

That would have to be enough for now.