He wasn’t used to being so open, or so vulnerable. It scared him as few things did, but for once he didn’t feel the desire to run away from what could hurt him so deeply. Rory held his hand securely, an anchor against the tumult of his emotions and a point of steadiness in a world that was turning upside down and changing in ways he wasn’t ready for. In ways he would never be ready for, but when had change ever waited for him to be ready?
As he had been since the day they had met, the hunter was a pole star, firm and true, and Jigano found himself reaching out, layering their hands and seeking that little extra point of contact, shamelessly sharing Rory’s warmth. The corners of his eyes crinkled a little at the reassurance and the tacit forgiveness for his anxiety over his alienness, though the smile still eluded him in the confused emotions of the moment. Not since Hiraku had he trusted someone so completely… and he had never spoken of any of this to the stone-faced bodyguard and friend who was the only other survivor of the Silvermount. What was happening with Rory was something new, and precious, and fragile… and stronger than he was ready for.
Which didn’t stop him from wanting it… whatever it was.
Rory’s wince drew his attention immediately, and he freed his recently-moved hand to reach up and brush light fingers over the unburned portions of the hunter’s cheek. He didn’t have to tell his friend to be careful – the wounds would remind him just fine without Jigano’s unhelpful words – but he let his touch speak for him as he considered what Rory asked.
There was a great deal of pain down that road, old and at best only partially healed. There were shadows that stood in his memory, accusing, angry, or innocent. There was a world that had been saved for the price of a single broken heart and three lives, and could there be any cheaper bargain? But though he had agreed to pay the cost and bear the weight of those decisions on his shoulders, he was not as strong as he had believed himself to be, four and five years ago. Even now he seemed to shrink under the burden of them, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as his hand dropped away from Rory’s face to rest on the cot beside him.
”My decisions have gotten people killed,” he said quietly. ”And… worse. It… has not seemed right, that I should know happiness while they are dead. When I’m with you I… forget that.” And what that meant for him – for them - going forward, he didn’t know.
Except that he didn’t want to lose what he had found, and his hand tightened around the ones that held him as if to a lifeline.
As he had been since the day they had met, the hunter was a pole star, firm and true, and Jigano found himself reaching out, layering their hands and seeking that little extra point of contact, shamelessly sharing Rory’s warmth. The corners of his eyes crinkled a little at the reassurance and the tacit forgiveness for his anxiety over his alienness, though the smile still eluded him in the confused emotions of the moment. Not since Hiraku had he trusted someone so completely… and he had never spoken of any of this to the stone-faced bodyguard and friend who was the only other survivor of the Silvermount. What was happening with Rory was something new, and precious, and fragile… and stronger than he was ready for.
Which didn’t stop him from wanting it… whatever it was.
Rory’s wince drew his attention immediately, and he freed his recently-moved hand to reach up and brush light fingers over the unburned portions of the hunter’s cheek. He didn’t have to tell his friend to be careful – the wounds would remind him just fine without Jigano’s unhelpful words – but he let his touch speak for him as he considered what Rory asked.
There was a great deal of pain down that road, old and at best only partially healed. There were shadows that stood in his memory, accusing, angry, or innocent. There was a world that had been saved for the price of a single broken heart and three lives, and could there be any cheaper bargain? But though he had agreed to pay the cost and bear the weight of those decisions on his shoulders, he was not as strong as he had believed himself to be, four and five years ago. Even now he seemed to shrink under the burden of them, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as his hand dropped away from Rory’s face to rest on the cot beside him.
”My decisions have gotten people killed,” he said quietly. ”And… worse. It… has not seemed right, that I should know happiness while they are dead. When I’m with you I… forget that.” And what that meant for him – for them - going forward, he didn’t know.
Except that he didn’t want to lose what he had found, and his hand tightened around the ones that held him as if to a lifeline.
