Caesaria

XV

There was only the light of the moonlit sky.

This was their first night together in weeks. A dim glow fell upon their blanketed forms, naked limbs intertwined in the cozy darkness. Amelia's head was tucked under his chin, nestled against his tattooed chest. Carter's fingers were lost in her brown curls. She pecked his neck. He'd thought she was asleep. She always was a deep, quick sleeper, even with the distant rumble of the village celebrations.

"How do I apologize to him?" she whispered.

"Honestly. Genuinely. The only way one truly can."

"I don't think he'll ever forgive me."

"Of course he will."

"No. No, I don't think he will. And I wouldn't blame him."

"Don't let that consume you."

"I blamed our son. To his face, I blamed him," she said. "I thought I left... I left what I was behind me. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself."

"You're not a monster."

"What you said... when you got upset with me the other night..."

He said nothing. Only waited.

"I think you were right. I did... I thought horrible thoughts. About Lucy. About her birthfather. Stupid, delusional thoughts, about her waking up and being him. Like she'd wake up with that same look in her eyes..."

"Amelia --"

"-- I had nightmares of it. I still do. Of him. And Carter..." she closed her eyes, tears burning. "Part of me did want... I was scared that the nightmares would come true. I was so scared. She looks so much like him, it's like I'm -- how could I think she was anything like him? And how could I even think that... that..."

He held her closer. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I said, it was a horrible thing to say. Amelia, I know you'd never hurt her. You'd die for her. Almost died for her, a hundred times over. You ran across the world for her."

"But that's just it, Carter. I did think about it. I thought of it. I thought about how I could end it right there. With... with a pillow. Maybe poison. To think he passed on that... curse to her, to our daughter..."

"Amelia --"

"-- Please forgive me," she whispered through her sobs. "Please, please, please..."

He held her, one strong arm underneath, one calloused hand cupping her flushed cheek. He hushed her, all as she convulsed in her silent hysterics. "No, Amelia. No more. It's done. She's awake, alive, and healing. And she's not him. She'll never be him. And you would never hurt her. I know that. This has been hard on all of us."

She said something again, but he couldn't understand through the sniffles. Until the earliest hours of the morning, he held her tight, guarding her through her tears. All would be well, he thought, rising sun shining through the window.

All would be well.