Again: fingers on his cheek, trailing lightly over his skin, little shivers coursing through his soul. He was calmer—more grounded in the words that had passed between them—and a little sore, his nerves thrumming to his heartbeat, so this time.. it did not quite set him on fire in the same way, did not make him think of things that were better left unthought for now. But he closed his eyes, gently leaning his cheek into the touch. It had been some time—too long—since he was touched.
As the hand fell away, he opened his eyes again to regard the man sitting on his bed. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, turning himself inside out in the span of minutes, with more secrets and bad memories sticking in his throat. Rory's fingers kept moving over the hand he held, eyes softening despite the pain tickling at his mood.
There were things, when remembered and spoken of, would have Rory bowing over the same way.
”My decisions have gotten people killed,” the fox said, and Rory's fingers traced little circles on the back of his hand. Whose hasn't? he wanted to say, thinking back on a childhood full of dreams and love and laughter, of boys growing up into still-not-men, but old enough to die all the same. But he sensed that whatever blame Rory had for that, it was much less direct than what Jigano meant.
But this wasn't about that. His hands tightened around Jigano's, holding it, for it seemed to be what he needed, but what words he might need, Rory did not know. He was silent for a while, looking at their clasped hands. There was much that he could say, but some things it was neither the time nor the place for. So he rolled the words around in his mouth and mind. And much of what he wanted to say was rather callous, and Jigano really did not look receptive to that at the time.
"The decisions we make are the ones that seem best at the time," he ended up saying. "It is only when we see how it goes that we know if it was good or not. It is hindsight that allows us to grow, and learn." He could hear footsteps coming down the hall outside, and he had a sinking suspicion they were making their way towards his room. He didn't know who else was in the Infirmary, after all, but it was not unreasonable to think a nurse was coming to check up on him.
"They are dead, Jigano," he said very, very gently, "and punishing yourself for it will not make them less so."
As the hand fell away, he opened his eyes again to regard the man sitting on his bed. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, turning himself inside out in the span of minutes, with more secrets and bad memories sticking in his throat. Rory's fingers kept moving over the hand he held, eyes softening despite the pain tickling at his mood.
There were things, when remembered and spoken of, would have Rory bowing over the same way.
”My decisions have gotten people killed,” the fox said, and Rory's fingers traced little circles on the back of his hand. Whose hasn't? he wanted to say, thinking back on a childhood full of dreams and love and laughter, of boys growing up into still-not-men, but old enough to die all the same. But he sensed that whatever blame Rory had for that, it was much less direct than what Jigano meant.
But this wasn't about that. His hands tightened around Jigano's, holding it, for it seemed to be what he needed, but what words he might need, Rory did not know. He was silent for a while, looking at their clasped hands. There was much that he could say, but some things it was neither the time nor the place for. So he rolled the words around in his mouth and mind. And much of what he wanted to say was rather callous, and Jigano really did not look receptive to that at the time.
"The decisions we make are the ones that seem best at the time," he ended up saying. "It is only when we see how it goes that we know if it was good or not. It is hindsight that allows us to grow, and learn." He could hear footsteps coming down the hall outside, and he had a sinking suspicion they were making their way towards his room. He didn't know who else was in the Infirmary, after all, but it was not unreasonable to think a nurse was coming to check up on him.
"They are dead, Jigano," he said very, very gently, "and punishing yourself for it will not make them less so."
