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A dry knock on the thick wooden door snapped him out of his daydreaming. He pondered about his will to go and open it, but few people knew where to find him when he was not on alfean grounds, and he very much wanted to avoid pissing these people off. So he dragged himself out of his old leather couch and soon found himself facing a tight-lipped Farah Dowling, who entered after granting him a disapproving look.
The curtains were closed, and it took her a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside, even though she could easily guess in what state the cottage was in.
“When was the last time you went outside?”
“Don’t know,” Saul shrugged. “Couple days, maybe.”
“More like six,” she huffed, looking around the living room. There were several empty bottles of liquor and cans of beer on the coffee table, some on the floor next to the couch.
“Have you eaten?”
“Made some noodles,” he pointed towards the couch where a cup of instant noodles lay abandoned.
She glared. That was hardly enough for all the alcohol he drank.
“Here,” she sighed, handing him a thin vial filled with a deep purple liquid. “Ben’s craft. It’ll clear your head and revive you overall, apparently.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Well, maybe if you looked in the mirror, you’d disagree”, she snapped, referring to his unkempt stubble, ruffled hair and stained t-shirt.
With an annoyed sigh, he turned away from her. “I don’t need you to lecture me, Fa.”
She had already tried that. She tried leaving him be, she tried reasoning with him, yelling, sending Ben to give him a pep talk and a pat on the back. She had even asked Rose to try and make him react, but Saul never gave any of them anything other than a blank stare and a sloppy plea to leave.
“What do you need, then? And don’t tell me to leave you alone, I’ve had enough of this.”
“Well, I’m sorry if my pain is inconvenient for you.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about pain. You know that’s not it.”
The harsh tone of the fairy matched the anger he felt bubbling through the bond, and he fell silent. He knew well enough how short-tempered she was, and part of him actually wanted to push her, make her yell at him. That was all he deserved. But he kept quiet and so did she, her eyes silently pleading as she handed him the vial again.
He took it reluctantly, his eyes averting hers. To be honest, he had no desire to not feel cloudy, but soon enough he caved and drank the whole thing, and he almost gasped as the feeling of an ice-cold shower spread to all his bones. Then he needed to drink water like he needed air, his tongue parched like it never had been, not even during his days tracking Burned ones, when they had to ration their supplies because they underestimated the difficulty of the mission, and they were gone for a week and a half instead of five days.
“Here,” she handed him a water bottle. “Take a shower, okay? I’ll wait here.”
He nodded and headed to his wardrobe. Dirty clothes paved the way from his bed to the bathroom, and his eyes fell on the nearly empty bottle on the nightstand. Shame settled as he undressed, and he remembered why he had not wanted to drink that purple thing in the first place.
When he returned to the living room, he found Farah sitting on the couch facing the table that was now cleared of every evidence of his drunken days.
“You didn’t need to clean that. Thank you.”
“It’s alright.” She stood up. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Saul followed, not daring to question where this was going. The bright sun made his eyes water, but the warmth on his skin was much welcome, as was the light breeze. They walked in silence to the horses, Farah leading the way.
“I miss you,” she said after a while, her hand soothing the long neck of a magnificent Mustang. “Ben and Rose miss you. And Sky needs you. He’s alright,” she added, seeing the instant panic in his eyes. “He’s okay. But he needs you.”
“I can’t. I’m not…”
His words caught in his throat, and he would have given anything for a whisky. Every single time he thought about the boy, his lungs instantly deflated, and he was left nauseous and wobbly. So he drank, and then some more, until his whole being felt numb, and oddly enough, he could finally breathe again.
“Not what?”
She cocked her head, watching him struggle to gather his thoughts. His eyes were ringed with weariness, his eyebrows knitted above them, and Farah would have pulled him in for a hug had she not been so cross.
“It’s my fault if he has no one”, he mumbled, his eyes set on a dry patch of grass near his foot.
“Okay, first, that’s unfair. He has you. And me. And second, enough with beating yourself up. How long are you going to keep going in circles like this? Andreas made a choice. He would have killed you, Saul.”
“Well, he didn’t. And now, I have to live with what I did. And the consequences.”
“So, what’s your plan, uh?” she asked, frustration tinging her voice. “Spending your life locked up in your cottage, drinking away your guilt while we all try to move on?”
“I don’t know, Fa. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Farah’s heart ache witnessing such defeat in her Specialist. He had never been the giving up type, his determination to see things through to the end was incidentally a quality much appreciated by their former leader. He was always the first to carry others back to camp, when he himself would have needed support. She had lost count of the number of times she had held on, thanks to him. Always him.
“Then let’s figure it out together,” she offered, taking both his hands in hers. “Please”, she added as she squeezed them, getting closer to him.
He closed his eyes as their foreheads met and let go of all the built-up tension in his body. It hit him then how much he craved to have her so close. The bond thrived in their proximity, sending waves of contentment in both directions. A few silent tears dampened his cheeks without either of them noticing, too caught up in the moment.
“How do you do it? How do you deal with everything?”
“I just keep busy, so I don’t have to think about it too much.”
His heart clenched hearing her bitter chuckle. He reached to pull her into his arms, providing her a hug to don like an armor, for lack of soothing words. Words never seemed enough after what they have been through, anyway.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
“Well, how about you let me be the supportive one for a change? I can’t be there for you if you don’t let me.”
He nodded in the crook of her neck, his arms tightening around her slender waist. Wrapped up in that feeling of being right where you were supposed to be, he deeply inhaled before Farah moved back to cup his face. She sought his gaze before offering him a genuine smile, any trace of annoyance replaced by a glint he had not witnessed for a while. She leaned into him and found his lips, sealing their deal with a delicate kiss.
“Come on,” she said as she took his hand to lead him back to his place, “Let’s get some groceries and cook a proper meal.”
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In the following weeks, Saul tried with everything he had to make it work. He kept busy, so he would not have every second of every day to dwell on his sadness and his guilt, and it turned out Farah was right: it did help. Nights proved to be more challenging, even though these last few days, he had not felt the urge to drink whenever he felt overwhelmed. Having his fairy next to him, squeezing his hand or kissing his temple whenever she sensed him slipping away, ready to give in to his dark thoughts, undeniably helped. Hearing Sky's laughter during their games of peek-a-boo and feeling the boy clench the fabric of his t-shirt in his tiny fists made him sick for a few seconds, before it being replaced by such an intense joy it could have taken his breath away. And even if he did not yet feel worthy of such happiness, these two deserved it. So, he would keep fighting with his own mind for them, if not for himself. Healing was sometimes the best way to love, he decided.