Chapter Text
In the privacy of her tent, Casca laid against Guts' chest and let him hold her in his arms. Her stomach was churning, her head felt like it was going to explode, and she couldn't break the urge to cry.
She listened to Guts' quiet and steady breathing and tried to quell the melancholy of her thoughts, closing her eyes to feel the rise and fall of his chest.
Guts was warm and his embrace was secure. His presence comforted her—made her feel that maybe everything would be alright. Guts was so much stronger than her… two weeks since Griffith died and he was done with tears and regrets.
Casca sighed. "I'm sorry Guts… I should already be done mourning, shouldn't I?"
The man below lifted his hand and placed it on her head, running his fingers through her short strands of hair. "It's okay, Casca," He said softly.
Somehow, his understanding, gentle tone made Casca want to cry more. She sniffed and buried her head in his shirt, wetting it with silent tears.
She felt ashamed to still be so distraught when Guts was already done mourning, but she also felt guilty.
She felt guilty for crying over Griffith in front of Guts, because it suggested that he was more to her than valuable friend and venerated leader. For years, he had been more than that. Griffith had consumed her thoughts with his presence—with his hand on her shoulder, with his soft and reassuring smile. She had wanted to be by his side—to be trusted and loved by him. But he never really trusted her, or anyone else—not with his heart. He was incapable of being vulnerable. He hid what he felt and trusted no one with his true feelings.
When Guts had come into her life as a friend and then a lover, he had revealed a softer and more vulnerable part of his soul—a part of himself that she'd angrily assumed didn't even exist when they first met. He had yielded his heart to hers and told her things that she knew he had never been willing to tell anyone else. He dared to trust her in a way that Griffith never had and never would. She knew Guts' heart was cautious—that he had been hurt badly and he was afraid of rejection. Her guilt came from the fear that she might inflict further injury on his wary heart by crying now.
Casca wrapped her arms around Guts' waist and hugged him tightly. "I… I don't want you to think that I wouldn't cry just as much over you," She choked.
"What do you mean?" He asked quietly, continuing to stroke through her hair.
"I'm afraid that because I'm still crying," She choked back a sob and her lips trembled. "…you'll think that I love him more than I love you."
"Casca…" Guts said with sympathy and tenderness, moving slowly to turn them both over, so that she lay below him. He wiped her teary cheeks with his thumb, and Casca saw the compassion in his eyes when he smiled at her sadly.
"I love you, Guts. I really do… More every day." More tears flowed down Casca's cheeks. "I don't want you to leave me… just because I can't stop crying." She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Guts let her sob for a few moments, then took her small hands in his large ones and gently pulled them away from her face. "I'm not going to leave you, Casca." He said, before pressing a chaste kiss on her right hand. "I," He kissed her other hand. "Love," He kissed her on the nose. "You." He smiled at her caringly.
Casca hiccupped and cried some more, but the anxiety in her heart died with his sweet smile.
Any time they had argued in the last month, Griffith was the figure at the center of that argument. He had been a source of turbulence in their relationship for years--and as lovers, that turbulence didn't die—only changed form. There were terrible shouting matches between them: jealousy, insecurity, anger, stress, blame, and guilt twisted together and had nearly torn them apart in the months that they cared for their former leader. They said things they didn't mean because of their grief. The love they felt for each other only made their arguments more intense and hurtful. Fighting with Guts was stressful and infuriating—only adding to Casca's concerns over her leadership, how they would make it out of Midland alive, and… the life she found out she was carrying inside of her.
She hadn't told him yet, because by the time she found out, Griffith was already sick—already dying—and it wasn't the right time. She couldn't deny that she also feared what his reaction would be. Would he be frightened? Troubled? …Happy? She was afraid that if she told him, he might feel obligated to stay with her—even if he didn't really want to. She wanted to cling to Guts, be held by him, be loved by him—but not if he didn't want the same thing—not if he wanted to leave.
More tears slipped quietly down her cheeks. "You wanted to cut a path for yourself with your sword… what happened to that dream?" She asked. The question of why he was still here had been burning in the back of her mind for weeks. He had said he would stay only until the Hawks got back on their feet, but they were now safely outside of the king's grasp, and still he stayed by her side. Still, he cared for her and comforted her—even though it hadn't been easy, the world with all of its sparks waited.
Guts let his eyes fall on her hands still in his. "I set out to find my own dream in the first place because I wanted him to call me his friend. But now he's gone, and I guess I've realized lately that maybe…" He bit his lip, and then looked at her. "All I wanted was… a family."
Casca's heart skipped a beat.
Guts put his hand on her cheek. "You and the Hawks are that family. I was just too stupid to see it."
Casca rested against his hand and the anxiety that had been building in her for months began to calm. "What about fighting stronger and stronger opponents to build your skills? What about making sparks?" She asked quietly.
Guts frowned thoughtfully. "Well… I make plenty of sparks with you." He offered, grinning at her devilishly.
Casca couldn't help but laugh a little at that, though she nudged his shoulder for ruining a serious discussion.
"But in all seriousness, I don't wanna leave anymore," Guts said, his brows suddenly furrowed. "I thought there wouldn't be any battles that I wanted, but that Black Dog Knight freak sure proved me wrong... Besides, we could still travel together. Judeau could hold down the fort long enough for you to take a break from leadership, at least now that we're safe from the damn king trying to kill us."
"Hmm… Like a vacation?" Casca sighed and smiled. "That actually sounds really nice."
Guts smiled back and started trailing kisses down her face and neck.
"It'd be best to go now or wait a few months, though…" Casca said softly—unsurely.
"How come?" Guts asked between kisses.
"…Because your family's about to get a little bit… bigger."
Guts stopped and sat up on his knees, his eyes wide. "Waddya mean, Casca?"
Her heart pounded. "…I'm pregnant." She said, her eyes widening as well to best gauge his reaction. She could hardly believe she'd actually said it.
"P-pregnant…" He repeated, almost inaudibly.
Casca sat up and bit her thumb in anxiety, fearing that it was all wrong—that she shouldn't have told him. There were so many things he must be thinking. Their relationship was so new, they fought all the time, and the news was completely unexpected. And how would Guts feel about being a father? Would it scare him, considering his past? Guts was still staring at her with that same look of shock, and Casca prepared to say something—anything—to kill the silence: Tell him it would be okay, that he didn't have to stay if he didn't want to, that... that...!
Guts laughed suddenly, and put his hand over his mouth. "My god…" His eyes misted. "We're gonna be parents!"