Jason King is perfect. Whether it's the British accent, his flawless fashion sense or having been able to pick up life again after having been through trauma as a result from his kidnapping, everyone agrees that this man is immaculate.
However, thin...
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JASON HAD A BROAD SMILE as he approached Emily, the gravel crackling under his feet. "And we meet again," he said.
Emily's expression changed visibly when she saw Jason, her upside down smile turning the other way and reaching her eyes. "We do," she said, and that was their way of greeting one another.
In the dark, Jason's hand wandered in search for Emily's, and they both felt a shock when their skin touched. But it was a comfortable touch, one that made them forget about where they were and that made them feel invincible. Because after all this time, they still had each other.
When they stood side by side, their eyes focused on the same thing standing before them. Two graves, next to each other, displaying an awful reality. But they had both seen this too often to be much affected by it.
"How are you?" Emily asked.
'How are you?' How many times hadn't he asked her that question, back then?
Their eyes met, and just the expression on their faces could tell entire stories to the other. 'I hope you're okay.' 'Don't lose hope, we're getting out of here.' And this time: 'Don't let me go.'
"Fine," he answered quickly.
She turned her head, but her body posture remained the same. "How are you?" she said again, this time pressing each word.
She knew him, through and through, and proved it here once again.
And none of them did. The touch became their hands holding as much as their cuffs would allow them to and as long as the man sharing the room with them didn't notice.
"Not good," he admitted, not taking his eyes off the two gravestones.
And she didn't ask any further, knowing he would talk when he wanted to. Both of them were tired of being forced into things they didn't want to do.
But the man did notice and he got up from his seat, took a few steps in freedom before he reached them. Jason felt Emily's grip on his hand loosening.
"What do we have here?" he asked, and as if on cue, a scowl appeared. It wasn't even the same man as the one who was usually guarding them, but he didn't act much different, as if all the guards had been instructed to behave a certain way around their prisoners.
"What about you?" Jason asked then, filling up the silence that reigned at the graveyard.
"I'm good," she said, "actually." And he believed her; although the graves reminded them of the past, she'd been the one who had been able to move on from it.
"Good," Jason said, and his eyes drifted back to read the words on the tombstones. Ones that had been carefully made, with words that people close to him had thought about a lot before it was written in stone for eternity. This had been their goodbye when they hadn't had the chance to say it in person.
