You must continue and you must keep going

[maintiensledroit]

Who: Benton Fraser & you!

What: July-August catchall

When: July-August

Where: Milton, Lakeside, the woods

[open and closed starters through July & August in the comments! hmu @ repeatandfade for questions/plotting ]

Comments

[castitas]

[ It's not fair, she thinks. She doesn't speak the words with her lips, but she thinks them. Loud enough for him and anyone close by to hear them. It's not fair to lose him after everything. Even if she knows he was given so much more time. He should have died almost immediately after he ended up here, but he didn't.

But maybe it's fair he could have had something so peaceful, when everything else in this place is so violent. It's a blessing. But— it's still not fair. She doesn't realise she's holding her breath, and she inhales shakily, nodding at Fraser's words a little numbly.

Kate doesn't feel surprised at the preparedness, but there's a little of it in her expression — reaching to take the envelopes. She gently touches her name written in Heartman's hand, carefully opening it to read the contents. She's quiet, other than the tiny breaths almost like laughter as she reads along to certain places, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. ]

He did go back to the Beach, it looks like. He thought that'd be the case too. I hope this means this time he finally did find his family. [ She really does. She prays he does. ] He... he wanted to thank me, give me advice.

[ Very carefully, she brings the letter and second envelope towards her, cradles it to her chest. ]

Homo Ludens. [ She whispers it softly, her head dips. ] Thank you for bringing this to me for him.

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[ He listens, head bowed, the brim of his hat loose in his fingers, and nods as she speaks. ]

I hope he did, too.

[ Certainly Heartman himself had been confident that he would, and now... well, he'll have all the time he needs to wander the Beach and find them.

Kate folds in on herself, fragile as a flower, and his fingers tighten a little on her arm, trying to offer support and comfort the only way he can: by listening, by offering a soothing touch. If he were a different man, he might draw the girl in to hug her, let her cry herself out into his chest -- and he would, without hesitation, if that was what she wanted -- but physical affection has never come naturally to him. All he can offer her in this moment is the knowledge that she isn't alone in her misery.

That's not quite true. He can offer a little of his own honesty in return, and so he doesn't simply say you're welcome, but instead takes a deep, steadying breath. ]

This is almost the last thing I can do for him. He'd done... a great deal for me. I'm happy to be able to help him one last time.

[castitas]

[ Kate nods along. It's hard to speak, at first. She can only nod along, her lips pressed to a hard, thin line — trying to hold back the worst of her tears, even holding her breath as little as if breathing would betray her. She's thankful, she is. And the fact Heartman has done so much for him both warms her and aches in a particular way. It won't happen anymore. ]

It's not fair. [ It's chokes out of her, even if it's quietly spoken. Almost childish, selfish. Things she has never allowed herself to be. There are reasons as to why these things happen, even if she doesn't know the answers. But now, it's just not fair. And she hates that it isn't fair.

Her body tilts forwards. She wishes Lieutenant Little were here. Or maybe Wynonna. Or Ruby. But they're not, and the last thing some small part of her brain wants is to cry all over him because it's Constable Fraser. But she just needs—

The top of her forehead bumps against his chest and comes to rest there. She still clutches Heartman's letter and the second envelope to her in one hand, the other moves to gently cling onto him. ]

I— I know he wasn't supposed to stay as long— I know, but— [ Heartman should have died twenty one minutes after arriving in this place, with his AED no longer functional. But he didn't. He was always living on borrowed time. And yet: ] why couldn't it have been just for a little while longer?

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[ He does hesitate, but only for a moment — the memory of her crying out in pain is still very near, but even if it weren't, he's not a man familiar with physical affection or soothing. He'd been loved and looked after as a child, but neither his grandparents nor his father were much on physical interaction beyond shaking hands—

But after that brief moment of pause, his arms go around her, gently squeezing, offering his steadfast support as she quietly rails against the unfairness of it all. He can't help but agree, deep in his own heart. ]

I wish it could have been longer, too. But we're all richer for having had any time with him at all.

[ Life is full of greetings and partings, and no matter how welcome the greetings there's always some sorrow at the partings. Even knowing Heartman had expected this, was at peace with it, doesn't quite dull the blow. ]