and we can weather the great unknown

[forthsofar]

With Sabrina still recovering from all she'd had to do to save everybody, they set up a bit of a rotation in her stead, the two of them; quiet and watchful and dedicated, making sure that Nick's not left alone until she can be at his side. Rosie gets to the apartment as soon as she can, letting Charlie go to see Sabrina or head home to Newt and Kavinsky, and he does the same for her, letting her check back in with Neil. It works, because it has to.

When she arrives, Nick's sleeping--or maybe drifting, dosed up with the pills they'd given him at the hospital. Rosie checks on him, just to make sure, then busies herself with things she knows are just helpful distractions: washing the dishes they'd dirtied already; separating out the few real pieces of mail from the junk and advertisements that had piled up in what she carefully thought of as Nick's absence; staring at the book she'd brought with her and managing only to read the same two sentences, over and over again. She's putting on water for tea when she hears him start to stir. Carefully, she goes down the hallway and stops in the doorway to his room, looking in on him lying on the bed.

Something about the juxtaposition feels familiar, if distantly, a connection her mind tries to grasp and can't. She'd done this a few times already since Nick had come home, after all; that might be all it is.

"I'm here," she says, smiling faintly. "The kettle's on, if...there'll be tea, soon."

Comments

[forthsofar]

"That seems like an awfully big promise to make, Nick," she says, but she's smiling as she says it, more steadily than any of the others she'd managed thus far. "But...I believe you."

She looks at him, and he at her, and for a moment it almost feels like there's something passing between them with the way their hands are linked. A deepening of their connection, maybe, the same kind of renewed strength that they'd found after escaping from Kagura--an escape that had led them here, just as they were now. Whatever it is, it eases some of the tension in her chest, soothes a bit of the ache.

"Not just believe, honestly," she adds. "I trust you."

[awickedtime]

Whatever happens in that look is enough to make Nick's cheeks flush too, and he looks away, grazing his thumb along the length of hers.

"Good," he says. "I hope I deserve that."

[forthsofar]

"You do," she says, and right then it seems that nothing's ever been truer.

She notices the blush, but holds herself back--with no small amount of difficulty--from asking about it. Instead, she simply squeezes his hand once more, letting out a quiet breath at the sweep of his thumb along her skin.

[awickedtime]

It feels like something is happen here, something beyond what's been between them before and Nick clears his throat, taking his hand away reluctantly, but only so that he can reach for a mug of tea.

"Can you stay for a while?"

[forthsofar]

He coughs gently and takes his hand away, and Rosie has a brief, odd moment of concern; one that fades as she sees him do nothing more than reach for the mug. She picks up her own, fishing out the teabag and adding a bit of honey before taking a sip.

"Yes, of course," she says. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

[awickedtime]

"Come get comfortable with me," he says, shifting against his pillows as he sips his tea. "I've been indulging in some really, really bad TV."

[forthsofar]

"Do I dare ask how bad?" she laughs, going around to the other side of the bed and letting him stay exactly where he is. "Don't tell me you've started to see the merits of those awful worm movies Sabrina loves."

Slipping off her shoes, she gets into the bed, moving to sit as close to Nick as she can without crowding him.

[awickedtime]

Wincing slightly, Nick lifts his arm, giving her room to settle in against him if she wants, aware as he is that he's shirtless except for the bandages swathing his middle. "It's a show about a coven of teen witches."

[forthsofar]

"Oh no," she says, wide-eyed and playfully dramatic--though her expression shifts into something more concerned as she sees him wince. "From the way you said that, I don't suppose they get anything right at all about being a witch."

Rosie hesitates a moment, more out of a desire not to hurt him than the fact that he's wearing very little--though she'd noticed that, too--then nods and settles gently against his side.

[awickedtime]

"They do wear a lot of black," says Nick, more than aware of what his closet looks like. "But there's a lot more sacrificing small animals than I've ever seen at the academy."

[forthsofar]

"I suppose that's a mark in the Academy's favor," Rosie says dryly. She leans her head against Nick's shoulder, still careful even as she sinks into the closeness of the way they're sitting.

"Let's watch it, then, and...if you wanted, you could tell me how all of it's supposed to be." She smiles, and once more it comes to her with far more ease than it might have previously. "I want to know everything, or at least as much as you want to tell me."

[awickedtime]

She settles in against him and Nick lets out a soft sigh, getting more comfortable with her against his side, his mug resting in the puddled blankets in the hollow of his hip.

"Where do you want me to start?" he says. He already knows he'd tell Rosie anything she wants to know. He can't imagine holding things back from her.

[forthsofar]

Rosie had expected him to turn on the program he'd just been talking about, to start with whatever episode was next and explain things--or correct things, more likely--as they happened, so the question surprises her for a moment. There's almost too many places to begin; too many things she's curious about and too little that she knows already.

She thinks for another minute, then smiles, something faint and a little shy. "Start with...start by telling me about your favorite thing you've ever learned," she says. "Not necessarily the thing you're best at, or the most impressive, or anything like that. But the thing that makes you happiest to know how to do. And tell me why."

She turns her head a little, looking up at him--at the line of his profile and the tangle of his dark hair. Again, there's that sense of something warm sparking deep within her, a sensation that's confusing but pleasant even so.

[awickedtime]

He thinks about that for a moment, lifting his mug to hand a sip of his tea.

"I love knowing how to astrally project," he says. "Knowing that you can go anywhere, as long as your body is safe and you stay ahead of the psychopomps."

[forthsofar]

Rosie had spent far too many hours daydreaming about adventures in foreign places, traveling as far and as often as she could and seeing everything the world had to show her. In that respect, Nick's answer is more perfect than anything else she might have expected him to say.

"That sounds wonderful," she says, grinning against the edge of her own mug before she takes a drink. "That's...that's how you got that manuscript for Sabrina, isn't it? From the bottom of the ocean?" She frowns a little recalling the last time she brought that up, only a few days prior; how she'd tried to keep him focused and present despite the pain of his injury. At least this time, their surroundings are more comfortable, more safe and secure.

"And you're definitely going to need to explain what a psychopomp is."

[awickedtime]

"It's not, actually," he says. "That was translocation, with a bathtub full of water as a gateway. I was physically there for that. With astral projection, it's just that...a projection." He takes another swallow of his tea. "Psychopomps are like...guardians. On that realm. They come after you if your soul is out of your body for too long."

[forthsofar]

"Oh, it was translocation, forgive me," she says, her tone just on the edge of sarcastic and teasing--even as she drinks in everything he's saying with genuine interest. "So astral projection is just...watching, for the most part? Going where you like, certainly, but only for so long and only as an observer. If you need to actually be somewhere, you translocate."

Rosie's eyebrows lift briefly in concern when he mentions psychopomps going after people. "Goodness. I suppose it makes sense, if they're guarding things, but...that makes it sound awfully dangerous."