AU: 1 BROTHER

[forkedroad]

Since meeting and traveling with the Tanners, Annabelle had seen a lot. A lot of death, destruction, and chaos; all the darkness that she'd always felt magnetized towards, even coveted, had stared her in the eyes several times in their journeys. It humbled her, and finally, had even scared her a little. She didn't let as much on, very often—the two boys had seen her rattled a couple of times, but she always recovered with stoic grace into her eventually typically impish facade.

A year or so into being with them, she pondered loss, having learned why they were alone. She wondered about her own family, and her own heart—if she would feel that sort of grief.

She decided if she lost either of the Tanners, she would.

But it was grief uncompared to Lauren's—she'd never heard such soul shaking wails of despair in her life, and sitting awake in the corner of his room, she can still hear it. Though Lauren has stopped crying, she can't shake the image of his face in the fresh of it. And it hurts her, too—she loved Susan as well. She cried and screamed as well. But quickly, perhaps too quickly, she's gone and steeled herself; she had to be strong for the remaining brother.

She doesn't sleep, and she's not sure if Lauren does, either. But late in the night, she slips out, whispering she would be back—just in case he's awake. She returns hours later, when the sun is up. She feels cold, and wonders if he does as well. The lack of sleep and the despair has left a chilliness in her bones, but the cold morning air hadn't helped.

Quietly, she moves carefully to the bed. They're staying in an inn—the owners have been kind about the cost of their stay, because tragedy is starkly clear when it strikes. She moves the sheets and comforter back, wordlessly moving beneath them. She settles on her side, laying beside Lauren to look at him.

She has no words, and she's not sure if it's okay to touch him. She seems stoic, because she's shocked—but she feels her grief would be imposing.

Comments

[forkedroad]

What Lauren says makes sense, but Annabelle furrows her eyebrows anyway, taking in a shuddering breath as she tries to keep steely. She wants to explain that it's just that she's never lost someone, before—but she doesn't want to remind Lauren that this isn't his first time losing what was his everything.

She buries her face into his neck as he squeezes her, sniffling.

She's quiet, her cold hands relaxing finally against his back. It's a little broader than when they'd first met. She flattens her palm against his shoulder blade, rubbing him softly.

"If you want to sleep...or when you want to, Lauren, I... have something."

[mylastchance]

He shakes his head no. He's assuming she means magic, but of course elves were immune to spells of enchanted sleep, one of the only things he'd inherited from his mother besides her speech and ears. "Last I slept Susan was there. In my dream. When I woke it was like realizing the truth all over again."

[forkedroad]

She's frustrated. She wants to help, but she can't; she's at the beginning of a journey learning that there's nothing one can do with grief but survive it. There is no handling it. There is only enduring it. And fussing Lauren, trying to do what she can for him because he suffers more than her, is a distraction for her own grief anyway. Not knowing how what to do, so clever, quick thinking and book learned, is unfamiliar and irritating.

"Right. Of course."

But she has to stop pushing him—to bathe, to sleep.

She nods, closing her eyes, eyelashes wet, cool from the morning air. She continues to pet his back, listening to and relishing in his heartbeat. She can feel it.

"Sorry."

[mylastchance]

Lauren shivers as she presses closer, her body finally beginning to warm up as they're heat collected beneath them underneath the blankets. Her hands are on his back and he realizes he can feel her chest pressed up against his. It's strange, it doesn't make him feel uncomfortable now as it normally would, instead it's a distraction from his weary minds incessant thoughts. It's physical, something that ties him here to the real world instead of to the world of his fears and despair.

"You don't have to apologize." he murmurs, his voice nothing more than a whisper. It least he had Anna now. He would never have been able to do this alone. "Thank you."

[forkedroad]

She feels a little bad for how he shivers, knowing she's responsible—but she feels herself warming up as well, so it's okay.

"You don't have to thank me," she counters, shifting to get a little more comfortable. She's exhausted; her eyes hurt. But her mind is a numb, loud buzz. She can't rest. Absent-mindedly, she combs her fingers upwards, through Lauren's dirty hair to rub his scalp a little. She remembers as a child, her mother used to do this sort of thing for her when she was stressed about her studies; it had always done well to calm her.