[mature] I will commit my soul to your door tonight; beth

[bethlehem]

I can get there on my own. you can leave me here alone.

He is not equipped for this, certainly.
But he can make himself solid enough for her to lean against.
He can brace himself against the weight of her that seems to suddenly lack in any real significance. As if someone or something had carved all of the substance out of her.

She sobs into his neck and he closes his eyes against the sound of it. Tentatively ducks his head to press his mouth against her chest, as if she might somehow draw some comfort from the gesture. The heat of his breath. The weight of it.

Until she speaks and he goes perfectly still. He does not draw breath. He does not exhale. It’s almost as if the heart ceases to beat, too. Until his eyes flutter open and he exhales long and slow. It is not resignation but something else. A quiet kind of understanding.

And he wonders where she had gone, where they had crossed paths, if she had gone looking for their daughter, thinking she could bring her back. But he doesn’t ask because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the blood. Her blood, though it feels like his, too. With how desperately he has loved it and how thoroughly it has soaked into his skin now. He lifts his head and lays a ginger kiss against her temple and exhales another long breath.

How he wishes he could vow to destroy Ghaul. But he cannot. He will not make promises that he cannot keep. He leaves his mouth where it rests against her temple when he mumbles, “what can I do?”

BETHLEHEM

I'm just tryin' to do what's right. oh, a man ain't a man unless he's fought the fight.