Through The Ashes

15

"Can I take these off?" Mara asked, staring up into Jorn's eyes.

The shorter woman was kneeling on the canvas ground while Jorn sat at the edge of her cot. Her body tense but unmoving. Jorn didn't know how to answer that question. She wasn't sure.

Mara waited patiently for an answer, hazel eyes full of hope.

"Del gets mad when I use half a roll for them. I... try to make them last as long as I can," Jorn answered quietly, finally calm after her panic attack.

"I'll say it was my fault," Mara said.

Jorn didn't say anything back. Instead, she gave a small nod to let Mara know that it was okay.

Mara focused her eyes on Jorn's left arm, hands moving with care as she slowly began to unwrap the bandages, starting from below her elbow.

Mara's fingers were gentle, as if each movement held significance. As if each layer of cloth removed was more than just a bandage—another barrier between them falling away. She unwound the cloth in silence, her hands sure, her touch soft. The only sound was the faint rustle of the fabric as it came loose.

Jorn's skin prickled under Mara's touch, not from pain, but from the intimacy of it. No one had touched her like this in so long. The feeling was almost overwhelming, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't.

"Does this hurt?" Mara asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jorn shook her head. "No," she replied, her voice low, almost hoarse. She swallowed hard, her eyes trained on Mara's face, watching the concentration in her expression.

There was something so tender, so quietly focused about Mara in this moment. It was as if she wasn't just tending to the wounds but trying to understand Jorn herself—who she was beneath all the pain and grief, all the walls she had built.

Mara's fingers brushed against the skin of Jorn's forearm, where the bandages were finally starting to come loose. The touch was so light it made Jorn shiver, her heart thudding in her chest as her pulse quickened. She hadn't realized how close Mara had come, her presence a steady warmth in the cool night air.

"I'm almost done," Mara murmured, her eyes flickering up to meet Jorn's for just a moment as if checking to see if she was still okay. There was concern there, but something else too—something deeper. Something that made Jorn's body hum with want.

"You don't have to do this," Jorn said, though the words were hollow even as she spoke them. Because truthfully, she didn't want Mara to stop.

"I want to," Mara replied softly. "Let me."

The last of the bandages came off, revealing old scars beneath. Jorn had always been a little ashamed of it—the marks of survival, of battles fought and lost, of moments she'd rather forget. But as Mara's fingers ghosted over the scars, there was no judgment in her touch, only acceptance.

Jorn's breath hitched as Mara's hand lingered, fingers tracing a small scar along the back of her hand. It was an old wound, one she had nearly forgotten, but Mara seemed to see it for what it was—a piece of Jorn's story, a part of her she had never shown anyone.

"You've been through so much," Mara said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "But you're still here."

"Sometimes I don't know if I should be," Jorn admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She looked away, unable to meet Mara's eyes after the confession.

Mara's fingers stilled for a moment before she gently took Jorn's naked hand in her own, her grip warm and steady. "You should be," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "You deserve to be. And I'm happy that you are."