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Josephine stares up at the ceiling. It is the next day, early morning.
Regulus is silent beside her, but she can feel his gaze, as if making sure she is still there, still alive.
The room is dim, with the curtains closed, allowing only a small amount of sunlight to peek through.
She is fine.
Completely fine.
Regulus obviously doesn't believe that statement whatsoever.
After a few minutes, Josephine finally sits up with a sigh.
"I want to go see my aunt," she says. "I'll only go there and back... nowhere else," Josie promises as she looks at Regulus.
He nods, but she can tell he is hesitant.
Josephine hates it, but she understands. She would be the same if their roles were reversed.
Josie tries to ignore him as she gets dressed quickly.
Just as she is about to leave their room, Regulus grabs her arm.
"I'm not going to judge you," Regulus says, his voice soft, his gray eyes even softer as he stares at her. "I am just... worried. I know you hate it when people worry about you, but someone has to. You worry for others enough; let me be the one to worry for you."
Merlin, she hates that he knows her so well, hates that it seems he knows every thought that passes through her mind.
"I..." Regulus pauses, gathering his thoughts. "I want to be here for you. I want to listen to whatever thoughts go through your head. But it's hard when you won't let me because you think I am going to hate or judge you." He takes a deep breath. "I would never hate you, ever. It doesn't matter what you have done or will do. It doesn't matter to me because I love you. I know that I wouldn't have survived if not for you. And not just because of what you did for us by becoming a spy."
Josie's heart skips several beats at that.
She doesn't say anything, only moves closer and hugs him.
He immediately hugs her back tightly.
"Thank you, Regulus," her words are low, quiet.
Regulus simply kisses her temple.
And then she is leaving the house, content with taking the ten-minute walk. At least her body no longer hurts, but the wound on her arm is still sore and tender. Every movement is a painful reminder.
Soon she is in front of her aunt's door. Nerves prickle at her because she will be explaining... everything.
It takes her a moment to knock, her anxiety high. Still, she forces herself to knock.
The situation is almost laughable. She has killed four, possibly five people, yet she is nervous to knock on a door?
Her aunt opens the door quickly, a smile forming as she sees Josephine standing there.
