𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

somewhere in between

Location: The Iron Lion's east balcony, just after sunset.

The balcony was quiet, washed in orange and lavender light. The wind tugged gently at the tattered curtains hanging in the arched windows. From below, the faint clatter of dishes and laughter drifted up from the mess hall.

Thèrèse was sitting alone, boot propped on the stone ledge, fingers idly twisting one of her knives as she stared at the darkening sky.

She heard the footsteps behind her but didn't turn.

"You planning to throw that at the stars or are you just flirting with the moon?"

A voice she hadn't heard like that in weeks.

Thèrèse glanced over her shoulder.

Bea stood there, hair wind-tousled, arms folded tight, expression uncertain.

"I don't flirt with celestial objects," Thèrèse muttered, a small smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Could've fooled me," Bea said, stepping beside her.

They didn't speak for a moment.

"I've been... gone," Bea finally said, voice raw. "Not physically. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah."

Thèrèse nodded slowly. "You've been... floating somewhere between here and not-here. We all felt it."

Bea looked out over the horizon. "I didn't know how to come back."

"You don't 'come back.' You just... show up again. One broken piece at a time."

"Did I hurt you?"

Thèrèse's jaw tightened. "No. I mean... yeah. But not in the way you think."

Bea turned to her, brows furrowed.

"You're my best friend, Bea. I'd walk through hell for you. I did, kind of. I just... hated not knowing how to help. Hated that you shut me out."

"I hated it too," Bea admitted. "But I didn't know how to be the Bea you all remembered."

"Screw that version," Thèrèse snapped, gently but fiercely. "We don't need her. We need you. Even messy. Even grieving."

Bea's eyes brimmed again. "You're really bad at emotions, you know that?"

Thèrèse snorted. "I stab people for a living, Bea. You think I go around hugging people in my spare time?"

"You hugged me once."

"You were bleeding out!"

"Still counts."

They laughed. A breath caught in the throat kind of laugh. The kind that hurt and healed at the same time.

Bea reached out, not a full embrace, just fingers brushing Thèrèse's arm.

"Thanks for waiting," she said softly.

Thèrèse didn't say anything. She just leaned into her shoulder, gently, eyes fluttering shut.

"Always," she murmured. "Even when you think I won't."