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"Hey, Jericho? You in here?" A soft knock sounded on the door. Veryl pushed in to the dark room. Moonlight streamed through the open window as a cool breeze sifted through the room. There was no response to her query. Veryl tip-toed her way in and softly shut the door behind her. Lorelei had assured her that his flat was on the second level of this block. Number fifteen. She'd apologize for picking the lock later.
The rooms were dark as she shuffled across the floor, the walls were a light color that reflected enough light to make her way to the only other doorway easy. She tried her best to make as little noise as possible, removing her boots in the entry and happy to find that unlike her own, his flat was clean and organized, save for the several stacks of books that decorated the rooms. She'd save her curiosity for those for another time.
The small crate of supplies from The Viper in her hands found its home on the floor near a settee, it too contained more books. He'd given her the task of delivering the supplies when Jericho hadn't reported in. He didn't explain why, but based on the fresh air, the dark rooms, and the bundled figure in a bed, it wasn't hard to piece things together.
"Jer? It's me." Veryl slowly approached the bed, unaware of how to handle this new version of her friend. "I brought some stuff for you. Lorelei told me where you lived… so I brought…it." She stood awkwardly at the side of the bed, popping her knuckles and shuffling her feet. They hadn't talked in several days, breakfast after meeting with Elek had been strained at best. Jericho had seen her home and then left. Neither one had reached out since.
That day had driven home the ripple of her choice. The mindless decision to sleep with a man she barely knew. The pain in his eyes, her role in it's sudden appearance when he looked at her, it kept her awake more often than the worst memory.
"Can I do anything for you while I'm here? Have you eaten today?" She desperately wanted to offer some comfort to him, but felt it might be rebuffed or unwanted.
He stirred under the blanket, his voice muffled against the pillow. "No, haven't eaten anything. Just been trying to sleep. 'S not working though. Nightmares. Head's splitting open."
His exhausted voice whispered out into the room and while Veryl was relieved to hear it, the context made her anxious. "I have a pain relief powder, I'll mix it for you." If she could grant him some kind of reprieve, anything within her power, Maker knew she wouldn't squander it. "Just give me a second."
With a hasty exit from the room, she wandered back into the main living space where the kitchen joined a small sitting area. She grabbed a glass off an open air shelf and pumped a small amount of water into it. A small clinic in town kept her stocked with medicinal herbs and powders, she kept them close on her belt just like any good Watcher would. Ripping one of the small sachets open, she poured it in and mixed with a wooden spoon she'd pilfered.
"I had to open a few drawers to find a spoon, I hope you don't mind." She said by way of an apology as she entered into his room again. Jericho was still nestled into his pillow, she set the glass on a small bedside table and knelt next to the bed frame, and pulled at the sheet that covered half his face. "It's not hard drugs, I promise. Just some dried elfroot and other medicinal plants."
Jericho blinked slowly at Veryl, his eyes tired and unfocused, and sat up wearily. "Thank you." He muttered, taking the glass off of the table and downing the concoction. "Ugh." He grimaced. "That tastes awful." He attempted a weak smile in Veryl's direction, not wanting to appear ungrateful for her efforts.
"Oh, it's terrible." She returned his smile from her spot on the ground, punctuated by a wrinkle with her nose. "But it does the job." He returned her joke with a weak breath of laughter and she watched as he closed his eyes and let his head sink back against the wall.
Several moments passed in cool silence, Veryl kept her place on the floor, arms propped on the mattress. The whole endeavor felt clumsy at best, she wasn't sure if she should stay or go. If her desire to help would actually aid him. Determined not to let her own apprehension get the better of her, she got up, gathered the empty glass, and exited the room.
Confused, Jericho kept his eyes closed, willing the pain to recede, and listened as his visitor left the room. Was she really leaving without a word? That wasn't like her. Then again, he hadn't given her much reason to treat him kindly lately. Not since he'd pushed her away after they'd met with Elek. She couldn't have known how that would hurt him, but he'd kept his distance anyway. Another mistake. The help she offered now was unexpected enough. He couldn't ask her to do any more. Not even to stay, even if part of him had hoped—
There was a distinct smack of a cupboard door followed by a soft "sorry."
With a start, he realized she must be still be in the apartment, as he could hear her opening drawers and cabinets and moving things around. He resisted the urge to go see what she was up to, knowing that standing would cause his head to swim uncomfortably. He tried to puzzle out what she was doing. Chopping something? Surely she wasn't cooking for him? He didn't deserve all that. No one had ever… he was used to taking care of himself in these situations. Sleeping off the pain, if he could, or just powering through when he needed to. He didn't know how to be taken care of. No one had ever bothered to try. It might've been easier if she had just left.
The soup took long enough for Veryl to start to yawn by the time it was done. The day had been long, and started well before sunrise. Even with longer days during the summer months, there never seemed to be enough time to finish everything she set out to do. But when someone had offhandedly expressed concern in passing about Jericho's absence, she couldn't let it go. Home could wait. It wasn't like there was anything waiting for her there. Nor would sleep come any easier.
She ladled some of the savory lentils into a small bowl and grabbed the small chunk of bread she'd found in the larder. It wasn't great, but in a pinch, it would do. If he hadn't eaten in several days it would be easy on him. Both went on a small tray she'd found in a cabinet as she'd rifled through looking for what she would need.
Pushing back into the dark room, she spoke quietly, "I hope you don't mind a vegetarian soup, it's hearty though." She placed the tray on the table again and turned to the curtained window. The moon was large tonight, and bright enough to guide her around a dark kitchen, still, the soup was hot. "Do you have any matches?"
Finally opening his eyes at the sound of her voice, Jericho turned to look at her, and with a small flick of his hand, had every wick in the room lit with small, dancing flames. He grinned at her, "Don't need matches."
With a huff Veryl put her hands on her hips and considered him. "Show off."
He chuckled at her exasperated expression, realizing at the same time that his headache was finally starting to abate. Was it the medicinal herbs, or just her presence?
"Do you feel like eating, or does your head still hurt?" She took the time to blow out a few of the sconces on the walls just in case too much light made things worse, and made her way back to the tray.
Watching her with wide, surprised eyes, he shook his head. "Headache's not completely gone, but I'll live. Food shouldn't make anything worse."
"Good, because it's getting cold. But you could probably fix that with one of your fancy little tricks," She teased in an almost mocking tone, wiggling her fingers about in a portrayal of casting. It was tentative and uncertain, but it felt like the rift was closing. She placed the tray on his lap and sat down on the side of the bed. "I haven't made it in a while, you'll have to tell me if it's any good."
He let out a short laugh at her tease about his magic, and looked down at the food. It smelled delicious, and he hadn't realized how hungry he was through the fog of pain. He took a small bite and felt it warm him from the inside out. "It's good, Veryl, thank you." Yet, instead of continuing to eat, he stared at the bowl, contemplating as his mood shifted. "What are you doing here, Ver? Why are you taking care of me?" His voice was quiet, confused.
Veryl watched him and tried to gauge the way his personality had changed. He looked haggard, unkempt, the hollows under his eyes were a deep lavender. It must have been days of whatever was torturing him, judging by the scruff on his jaw. It'd been a while since she'd seen this. The migraines used to happen more often.
Sighing, she removed the tray from his lap back to the table and pulled her knee up on the bed, "Viper asked me to bring some stuff by. Said you hadn't reported in in several days. I knew something had to be wrong." She gave him a serious look. "What was it this time?"
Continuing to look down, he avoided her gaze, his answer was almost a whisper. "It changes. Every time I try to sleep. They're all whispering in my head. Taunting me. Twisting my dreams. " His breathing grew deep as the images flashed up behind his eyes, his hand went to his face to scrub at them. "Grief. Regret. Heartache. Isolation. Different aspects of Despair. They keep showing me things I can't change. Things I can't fix. Things that hurt. They won't leave me alone." He knew he must sound like he was on the verge of tears, but he didn't have the energy to let them fall.
Veryl couldn't keep the horrified look from her face, her own whisper coiled around morbid curiosity, "What things are they showing you?" They'd talked at length about these things, sometimes finding that verbalizing them gave it less power.
His eyes stung as he finally looked at her. What could he tell her? How could he admit that she featured in his nightmares? That the visions that stung the most were the ones where he'd been abandoned by her. He sighed deeply. "Memories. People I've lost, that I can't get back. Things I've fucked up and can't change. And how it's just going to keep happening. Everyone leaves. And I'm alone. Elek. You. Both of you. Happier without me in your lives." Jericho looked away again, not wanting to see her reaction.
Veryl's eyes were misty with sorrow for the man in front of her. There was nothing she could say to remove the weight of the things he'd been shown. It seemed so much worse than usual. No one deserved to experience such devastating things every time they closed their eyes. Her own nightmares were things she'd earned. This tender soul wasn't built for such acute torture.
Veryl shifted impulsively, rushing too quickly through her motions, startling him when she reached for his cheek. Jericho's head snapped up and back to anticipate her movement. He watched her warily, old instincts flaring to life in his eyes. Surprised, she let her fingers relax and then drop away.
Jericho rushed to grab her hand as it lowered, "I'm sorry I-
"It's okay-" Veryl herself rushed to reassure him, clutching his hand. "You don't want to be touched, I get it." She gave him a sad smile. The truth burnt a little on her tongue, and a frown pulled at the corners on her mouth. In a switch up that felt daring considering his ordeal, Veryl lifted his palm to her own cheek.
"I'm here." She whispered quietly into his palm, keeping her eyes cast down, focusing somewhere on his neck. "I want to be here. I came to find you. I was so worried. And if I could… somehow…" She didn't know how to word it but the intense desire to protect ran deep, an emotion she couldn't discern stuck in her throat.
Staring at his own hand held against Veryl's cheek, Jericho couldn't find the words he wanted to say. How he regretted recoiling from her touch, a reflex, born of events from his past, that kept him from receiving the comfort he craved, yet didn't feel he deserved. Quietly, hardly able to choke the words out, he spoke. "Will you stay?"
Amidst a watery nod and a quivering lip she bit to hide, Veryl reached for him again, this time to throw her arms around his neck and clutch him close. She hadn't slept in days for fear of her own nightmares. That he was facing them alone and struggling through the painful repercussions of it was unfathomable to her. She would die of exhaustion, and he would die of pain. Their suffering so different and yet still the same.
Pulling back, she moved light fingers to his neck, feeling his pulse, "None of it's real, okay? But I'm real, I'm here and I'm real." She searched his eyes for any sign of the hope that always just flickered in his eyes.
Surprised at her sudden display, Jericho nodded, letting her words sink in. Grounding him. Yet, he still found himself near tears, unable to handle the mess of emotions swirling inside him, and the desperate hope that she wouldn't let go. "It all felt so real. I couldn't… I tried to fight against it, but they kept getting more persistent. I'd wake up screaming. Or not want to wake up at all. So I'd try not to sleep. But the whispers wouldn't stop. All of the worst things I've ever felt… kept coming back. It's all I could see." The words fell out of his mouth, and he couldn't focus on a single place as her image swam before his eyes.
"Just me, alone with my mistakes and failures. And everyone I care about… just gone. I just wanted it to stop but I couldn't… I couldn't do anything. Nothing worked until… until you got here." Jericho tried to breathe, but all that came out was a sob as the tears finally started flowing free.
Veryl hugged him close as the sobs wracked his frame, tucking his head under her chin and brushing her hands through his hair. She rocked them back and forth, making little noises to help calm his torrent of weeping. They shifted in tandem to tangle up as she cradled him, keeping close, no longer able to stand the separation. She rubbed gentle fingers along his spine and hummed softly until the gasping breaths became less choppy. Her own tears slipped quietly down her face, swift and undisturbed
The minutes passed quietly, with only their breathing and a few hiccups or sniffs breaking open the silence. Her fingers still sifted through his hair in a repetition that seemed to comfort them both. His arms wrapped around her middle as he buried his face into her stomach. The distance that had grown now shrunk to the smallest amount, and yet it still felt as though they were trying to somehow sink further into each other.
"Hey, Bluebird?" Veryl gently uttered into the quiet.
Sleepy eyes lifted to look at her, a response to her call. Veryl tilted her head toward the window and Jericho shifted to glance at where she indicated. "Sun's coming up, we made it." Gauzy shafts of light filtered through the curtains, announcing the death of yet another torturous night. With it brought a dawning hope that neither of them would struggle alone again, punctuating the importance of their presence in the other's existence.
Jericho made a little noise, nuzzled further toward her, and gave a small flex of his arms around her, "five more minutes." Together, they ignored the sun as it rose, choosing instead settle deeper into his bed and cling to each other as though their lives depended on it.