leave the pining to the trees - destinyofamerath (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

"This isn't group therapy," Cid had warned Clive when he had first told him about the opportunity. "It's a job. It's work. From the moment you show up at the camp entrance, you leave that broody persona you keep trying to cultivate at the gates, I don't care how much the ladies love it. You're here for the kids - just the kids."

Clive had done his best to follow Cid's instructions - not that the man had made it difficult. The moment he had stepped through the entrance to Camp Bennumere, Otto, the camp activities coordinator, had shoved a plastic tote into his arms with orders to help offload all the supplies they'd need for the summer. He assisted Goetz in sorting through camping supplies, helped Geoffrey repair a deck with a couple of rotting boards, made a run into town for Tarja for extra antiseptic for her first aid kit and then turned around and made another run into town as soon as he returned when it turned out Kenneth had purchased far too many chocolate bars and not nearly enough marshmallows for s'mores night.

If there was an errand that needed running, Clive was the first in line to run it - and there were a lot of errands that needed doing in a sleepaway camp preparing to welcome three hundred-odd rambunctious kids and teenagers for the next six weeks. By the end of each day, Clive had run up and down and through every corner of the camp several times over, and had little energy for exploration and contemplation. His only thought was of finding and collapsing into the nearest open bunk.

But two weeks after Clive arrived, things had begun to settle down. For most of that time, it had only been the camp staff and Cid's closest compatriots that had been at Camp Bennumere - Cid himself, who was camp director, Otto, the activities coordinator, Tarja, the nurse, Kenneth, the head of the kitchen staff, and a handful of others.

And, of course, the odd man out - Clive himself, who had been volunteered by Cid to show up earlier than all the rest of the camp counselors to help make ready. He had explained it away to the others as a way to help one of their newest recruits familiarize himself with the lay of the land.

Cid knew as well as he did that though it had been many years, Clive knew his way around the camp like the back of his hand.

Clive didn't mind. He was glad of the distraction.

But distractions were becoming increasingly hard to find. Over the past few days, the other camp counselors started trickling into camp to get ready for orientation day before the kids started arriving. Some were new to the program, like him, while others were veterans with a dozen or more summers under their belts. Where once Clive was everyone's personal errand boy, now the staff had a score of people to help them, leading to the work being spread much more thinly - and, unfortunately, leaving Clive with much more time on his hands to think things over.

Early in the morning on orientation day, Clive checked in with Otto to find he had no work left for him. "Most of the other counselors have arrived, we're just waiting on the last couple stragglers," he told him with a shrug. "We have plenty of help, and you've done enough. Take the morning off."

It was only with great reluctance that Clive agreed, and wandered off towards the lake.

At the shore, Clive paused, skimming the area to see if there was anything that needed doing, anything to occupy his twitchy hands and already churning thoughts. But the boathouse had already been dusted, and the canoes had been waxed to a shine earlier in the week. The dock didn't even squeak under his footsteps as he made his way down to the end of it.

Out here, it was quiet. He wasn't more than a couple hundred feet away from the closest building, but a copse of trees obscured the camp proper from the lakeshore and provided the illusion of privacy. Tiny waves lapped along the shoreline, pushed by a breeze that jingled his dog tags against his chest and brought with it the scent of pine and lake water.

Clive inhaled deeply. It smelled just like he remembered it.

Cid had made clear that he should leave his personal problems behind so he could focus on the work. But...technically, the campers wouldn't show up for another couple of days. Surely it would be better to indulge them now, on the relative privacy of the dock before the camp session even started, than in front of the kids.

And so Clive gave himself permission to recall, and all the memories of Joshua came rushing back. They had spent five full summers here, and practically every corner of this place had some sort of recollection associated with it, even if it had been thirteen years since he had last set foot in the camp. Their first year here, Joshua had failed his first swimming test, and had been relegated to activities on land until he could pass. Only six at the time, Joshua had looked out at all of the other kids in his cabin splashing in the water under the lifeguard's supervision and had said nothing, but Clive knew how he longed to join them - so he had sat down beside his younger brother on the beach and promised him that he'd help him pass his next test, and until then he would stay on shore with him.

That day, Joshua smiled wide at him, full of gratitude, but it was the even bigger grin that stretched across his face when he passed the test later that week that was seared into Clive's memory.

Or there was the spot down by the trees, when Joshua had slipped and cut his knee on a stone hidden in the grass during their second year here. He had simply stood up and kept running, not wanting his brother to worry about him, and Clive had been none the wiser - until he had seen the ragged gash bleeding through his trousers, and had wordlessly picked him up and taken him to the camp nurse. She had cleaned and bandaged the wound and assured them that it was just a scrape and was nothing to worry about, the same that many of the other kids would sustain over their time here, and that Joshua would be fine to rejoin the rest of the campers. Joshua had been delighted to know that the injury wouldn't hold him back from playing with the other kids - even at that age, he had chaffed under his family's coddling.

But Clive knew, even at the tender age of twelve, that Joshua wasn't like the other kids at camp. Though no diagnosis had been made at the time, Joshua had been quick to take to illness, and when he did fall ill he was always the sickest. He had not wanted anything to hold him back from his fun, so Clive had resolved to protect him no matter what.

And he had tried to. He had tried so hard.

There, on that dock just hidden away from the camp by the treeline, the tears finally began to flow as all of his memories of Joshua came back, accompanied by a flood of emotion. His head dipped down and his hands fisted in his hair, his shoulders heaving with heavy sobs as he tried to muffle the sound, sure someone would come looking for him if he was too loud but unable to stop himself from weeping.

It took some time before the moisture finally dried on his cheeks, and even longer before he felt like he was stable enough to turn away from the lake and slowly trek back towards the camp.

But every sight along the way brought some new memory of his brother with it. Joshua, climbing the oak tree hanging over the lake, now much bigger with thirteen years of growth behind it. Joshua, humming along to a campfire song he didn't really know the words to, but was just happy to be singing with the other kids. Joshua, his hand sticky in Clive's from eating toasted marshmallows all night. Joshua, racing out of his cabin and bowling Clive over in his eagerness to come out and play. He thought crying was supposed to bring a sense of peace afterwards, but mostly, Clive just felt wrung out and empty inside. Every new memory made him want to start sobbing all over again.

Maybe he'd go check in with Kenneth and see if he'd be willing to give him something to do. The head of the kitchen staff had a good people sense, and had even had Clive delivering lunch to the busiest members of the camp staff without them even needing to request it. One look at his mussed hair, red-rimmed eyes, and the defeated look on his face, and no doubt Kenneth would shove a coffee mug into his hands and set him to work peeling potatoes or organizing the snack cabinet.

It would mean braving the mess hall, which he was sure would have a thousand other memories in store for him. Still, better to endure the pain so his mind could slip into blissful emptiness afterwards, rather than wander the campgrounds and have every sight send a new lance of agony through him. Maybe he'd even run into the camp dog, too. Torgal always liked to hang around the kitchen begging for scraps this time of morning, and scratching his furry friend behind the ears always soothed his troubled soul.

So when he stepped into the cafeteria, it was with great surprise that he wasn't assaulted by a memory of Joshua picking around his carrots or inhaling his breakfast so he could go play with the other children. His feet instead naturally took him to a table not far from the entrance to the mess, where a memory did bubble up to the surface - one that didn't send him into anguish, but instead suffused him with a gentle warmth.

It was his and Joshua's first summer away at camp, something that Clive had begged his parents for years to be able to do, but he had always been met with a stern refusal. Now that Joshua was six and old enough to attend, his father had finally relented, though his mother had fought him every step of the way, reluctant to send her baby boy away for a full six weeks, but she needn't have worried. Both he and Joshua had been having the time of their lives so far, swimming in the lake, climbing trees, and playing games. Their cabins were even scheduled to do a short hike together later that day.

At the end of the table, one of the counselors from a different cabin congratulated them all for getting through the first week of camp, and announced that it was time for the first mail call of the summer. Excited whispering was exchanged between the other campers as they were handed letters from their families and friends. Joshua was seated at the table next to his, and when Clive turned his head to look over his shoulder at him he could see him scratching at the table, his eyes downcast. Their father had left for a business trip before the bus had picked them up for camp, and wouldn't return for a couple weeks yet. Joshua glanced up from where he was drawing anxious circles with his fingertip, and Clive gave him a reassuring smile as the other kids received their letters. Joshua smiled hesitantly back.

When Joshua's turn came, it wasn't a letter that graced the space in front of him, but a package that hit the table with an audible thunk. Joshua's jaw dropped, and Clive's grin widened as a counselor took a box cutter to the top to help him open it up. "My mother sent me a package!" he gasped to the rest of the table as he read the return address, now fully focused on the treats right in front of him. He pulled out gift after gift - a bag of chocolates and another of sour candies, several pairs of fuzzy socks, extra bug repellant and hand sanitizer, stickers and a book of puzzles, and more. Nestled in the bottom of the box was a letter in a lavender envelope, and Joshua ripped it open and began to slowly sound out their mother's message word for word with the help of an older girl next to him.

Clive turned back to his own table, still smiling - he knew their parents wouldn't have forgotten about them.

The smile dropped from his face when he realized that the camp counselor at his own table had returned to her seat. The space in front of Clive was empty except for his dirty plate from breakfast. The other kids at their table were reading their letters aloud to each other or sharing photos of their pets that their family had sent. Clive was the only one at the table who had not received anything. His hands clenched into fists and his ears burned red from shame as he fought back tears.

It's fine, he tried to convince himself as he reached for an extra breakfast roll. The camp was far in the mountains, and mail was frequently lost or delayed. That was probably what happened to his. It would show up in a few days and he would laugh about it then as he shared its contents with Joshua and the other boys in his cabin.

Deep down, he knew that there was no package coming. It hadn't gotten lost in the mail, it simply didn't exist because his mother hadn't made one for him - only for her favored child. He had always known that she loved Joshua more than him, though he didn't know why, except for a deep-seated feeling that at some point, he had done something wrong. That something was wrong with him.

"Do you like Jolly Ranchers?"

His head jerked to the right to find the speaker - a girl who was probably a couple years younger than him. He was pretty sure they hadn't met before outside of the icebreakers they had done on their first day here, but she looked familiar enough that he had probably seen her running around camp. The badge on her camp shirt identified her as being in the same cabin age group as he, but on the girl's side - probably on the younger end of the age group, while he was one of the oldest boys in his cabin. Her silver eyes almost matched the color of her hair, which was cut short along her jawline, and there was a sunburn fading on her cheeks. Her head was tilted to one side as she looked at him inquisitively.

"What?" His words were muffled from the bread he had just shoved into his mouth to distract himself so he wouldn't cry in front of everyone, and his voice cracked embarrassingly. Clive flushed, trying to swallow down both the food and the unshed tears.

"I wanted to know if you liked Jolly Ranchers," she said. Her tongue was dyed an artificial shade of blue. "My father sent me some, but the bag he sent me is too big. I don't think I'll be able to finish them, so I...thought that..." she trailed off at the end, suddenly breaking eye contact as her voice faded.

"I like Jolly Ranchers," he confirmed, though he couldn't rightfully remember the last time he had eaten one.

Her eyes snapped back to his, and she grinned. "I'll share some with you, then," she said, and reached into the bag to select several. "Here. The blue ones are the best." She reached out to grab his other hand, still clenched into a fist. She uncurled his fingers and placed several blue candies in his palm. "I'm Jill, by the way."

"Clive," He introduced himself. "It's nice to meet you, Jill."

"It's nice to meet you, too."

She was looking at him expectantly, and Clive struggled to figure out what to say next. She seemed similarly lost for words, her eyes darting away from him. He should probably thank her, but now that the silence between them was stretching into uncomfortable territory, it felt awkward to say so. She seemed to think so too, because she turned away from him to push her scrambled eggs around her plate again.

He noticed the small package in front of her when she returned the bag of candy to it, the one her dad had sent her. In addition to the Jolly Ranchers, it looked like he had sent her a small bottle of aloe vera, a larger bottle of sunscreen, and...

"Is that the new War of the Eikons book?" he blurted out, and immediately regretted it - he shouldn't be snooping on the gifts her family sent her.

She didn't seem to mind as she turned back to him with wide eyes. "You’ve read the War of the Eikons series?"

"I love it," he said. "I've never met anyone else who's read it." He had tried to talk with some of his friends at school about it, but they all laughed at him and told him it was a girl's book, a kissing book, which was very silly because to his count, there had been exactly one kissing scene in all three books so far, and it had been the culmination of tens of thousands of words of adventure and sword fights and magical battles between the main cast. He had tried to explain that it was inspired by an ancient Valisthean fairy tale, but that had only made the teasing worse . Eventually, he had given up on trying to convince them to try it and just read the books on his own.

"Me neither," Jill replied.

"I heard that the new book was coming out, but I was supposed to leave before it was released. My father promised he'd have a copy waiting for me at home when I got back," he told her.

"I made my dad promise to send it to me when it came out. I brought the other books to re-read them while I waited, but I've been so excited for this one to arrive." Her face suddenly turned contemplative, and then she reached into the box to grab the book in question. "Here. You can read it first."

"I can't do that," he refused. "You just said you've been looking forward to this. I can't take that from you."

"It's fine," she reassured him. "I'm not done re-reading the other books yet, so I won't be able to start for another few days anyways. You should read it first, and I'll read it after you, and then maybe...we could talk about it?" she suggested, her voice full of hope.

He debated with himself for a moment, but he wasn't strong enough to say no, especially not with the cliffhanger the last book had left off on. "I'd like that," he said hesitantly as he accepted the proffered book.

"I just have one rule - you can't bend the pages," she told him firmly, trying her best to look stern. "My mom always says that boys are rough with their books. I don't want it all dog-eared."

"I'll be nice to it, I promise," he said with a smile, feeling lighter. When they both turned back to their plates, the silence between them was no longer awkward.

That night - after their hike, after dinner, after the whole camp gathered around the bonfire - Clive pulled the blankets of his bunk up over his head, turned on his flashlight, and flipped open the book. It wasn't long before he was completely engrossed in his favorite story again.

It didn't last more than a couple of hours. He was barely more than a third of the way into the book when his counselor pulled the blanket from over his head. He was bleary-eyed in the flashlight's glow as he told Clive to go to bed, or to at least try to rest his eyes so he wouldn't be exhausted come morning. Clive obediently turned off the light, rolled over, and tried to sleep.

But rest wouldn't find him. He had the book set on his chest, his arm wrapped around it, but he desperately wanted to keep reading. His fingers tightened just slightly around the cover. He wanted to know what happened next - about the battles to come, the journeys to be had, the new eikon to be introduced. Even more than that, he wanted to know what Jill would think of the book.

He wished he could ask her, but he didn't want to ruin it for her - he wanted her to experience it the same way he was. But by the time she was done, would he remember every moment, his every thought as he read through each line? He didn't think so.

That was when the idea hit him, and he sat straight up in bed with a gasp. The boy in the bunk next to his groaned and threw his pillow at him, clearly sick of his tossing and turning, but Clive tossed it right back at him.

He barely slept at all that night, turning back and forth in his bunk until the sun rose, but still practically bounded out of bed the moment the morning bell rang. His counselor, clearly exhausted from all the times he had to get up to tell Clive to go back to bed, didn't even question it when he asked for a pad of sticky notes and a pen. He just silently handed it over and told him to get ready for breakfast.

During their afternoon down time, Clive started to write. He skipped back through what he had already read to leave a sticky note at what he felt were the most impactful moments, but as he started up from where he left off, the notes got more and more frequent. Every time he had a thought he wanted to share, he'd place a sticky note by it and write down how it made him think, how it made him feel.

I have a friend who tried this once with his parents, he wrote near a scene where the main character had to climb a mountain face to reach an altar to Titan.

I knew he was alive, they couldn't let him die like that, he wrote when Bahamut made his heroic return.

Ramuh reminds me of my dad, he wrote as the elder eikon gave sage advice to the young heroes.

F I N A L L Y, he wrote when Shiva pressed her lips to Ifrit's scaley muzzle, and then Aw, not again! when they were separated again a couple of pages later.

By the end of the story, the book was practically bursting at the seams with sticky notes full of Clive's thoughts, but he still had one more note to write. This time, he used the nice stationary that he had brought with him from home, and he wrote her a letter thanking her for letting him borrow her book, and that he was looking forward to talking about it with her. Then, he sketched a crude picture of the camp, complete with the lake, the main buildings, and the major pathways running between them all. He drew an arrow pointing to the box that was supposed to be his group's cabin, and wrote I live here! Come and find me here when you are done.

The next morning, he wolfed down his breakfast at record speed, then stood and found where Jill was sitting a few tables away. She jumped when he put a hand on her shoulder. "Here," he said, handing her the book. "Don't worry, I didn't bend the pages. Thank you for letting me borrow it." He didn't wait for her response and left quickly after she accepted the book, feeling a little embarrassed by all the sticky notes poking out of the pages. Maybe it had been a silly idea, but it was too late to regret it now that it was in her hands.

He needn't have worried. The next evening as he and the other boys were getting ready to trek out to the restrooms to brush their teeth before bed, there was a soft knock on the cabin door.

"You're not supposed to be on the boy's side of camp this late," he heard his counselor say to the person at the door, not unkindly. "Do you need some help finding your cabin?"

"I know I'm not supposed to be here now, but, um - is Clive here?" His ears pricked at the familiar voice, high-pitched from nerves.

"I'm here," he called, grabbing his bag of toiletries and making his way to the door. "Hi, Jill."

"Hi," she said breathlessly. She was still dressed in her day clothes, her own toothbrush and toothpaste in her right hand. She had probably snuck out when the other girls in her cabin had headed to the restrooms to wash up for bed. Clive had a feeling he knew why, for the book she had lent him was clutched to her chest in her other arm.

His counselor was looking at them strangely, and then gave a long exhale. "All right, you lot, stop gawking," he said loudly, at which point Clive realized all the other boys in the cabin were staring at them. "Let's head out." Clive stepped off the cabin stairs with Jill as they filed out of the building, a couple of them snickering as they passed by and headed down the path. They weren't truly alone - his counselor stopped further down the lane at the bend of the dirt road, so he could see both Clive near the cabin and the boys walking towards the restrooms, but was far enough away that he might as well have not even been there.

"Did you finish the book?" he asked eagerly, and she hummed to the affirmative. "What did you think?"

"I really liked it," she replied. "I really, really liked it. Which is why I think you should reread it." She held the book out to him with both hands.

"I've already read it once," he said with a tilt of his head. "I don't want to take your book away from you all over again."

"I really think you should reread it," she insisted, and this time, she practically shoved the book into his chest.

Clive tentatively took the book from her. He wouldn't say no, he could re-read War of the Eikons a million times and he still wouldn't be bored, but he felt bad for stealing her book a second time. He flipped it open on impulse, wondering if she had removed his notes.

To his great surprise, she hadn't. In fact, every single one he had stuck between the pages still seemed to be in place. Though there was little light other than the moon and stars above them, he could make out his own writing - and new words, written beneath his own thoughts in response. Additionally, there seemed to be at least a dozen more sticky notes, added in her own neat script.

His letter was still in place at the front, but when he flipped it over he could see that she had written a response on the back. She had also added several more buildings and landmarks onto his map - a large pine tree, next to which was written The Best Reading Spot In Camp , the climbing wall, which said I want to get to the top by the end of summer , and several of the girls’ cabins. One of them had a star scribbled onto it in red pencil and was labeled Come visit me here!

"You're right," he said, gently closing the book once more, "I think I should re-read this - the writer is really good, she probably had a lot of really interesting stuff to say that I might have missed the first time around." He hesitated for a moment, then added on, "It might be a few days before I can give it back to you, but my brother and I are going to check out the archery range during free time tomorrow. Do you want to join us?"

When she beamed at him, all he wanted to do was make her smile like that again. "I'd like that," she breathed.

That one act of kindness had set off a friendship that had lasted for years. Jill had become his closest companion over the course of that summer, and she seemed to slot naturally into his life. With Joshua at his right, and Jill at his left, everything seemed to fall into place. Though they only met when they returned to camp, every summer they'd come back together and pick back up where they left off, like they had never been separated at all.

He hadn't spoken with Jill in years, since the last time he went to camp the summer he turned fifteen. He had thought of her frequently in the years after, had wondered how she was doing, if she had missed him the summer he had suddenly stopped coming to camp. He had thought of her less often as the years went on - not for lack of care for his former friend, but because his headspace had become too crowded with everything else going on. Remembering her in the midst of it felt like it would only taint the mental image he had of her.

Now, he turned the memory carefully over in his mind. Memories of Joshua felt like treading through broken glass: the further he dove into them, the deeper they seemed to cut. The memories of Jill were soft and warm by comparison, and eased the tightness in his lungs. They were still tinged by a bittersweet nostalgia, a longing for a childhood friendship long past, but the fondness within them was like a balm over his emotional scars.

So Clive let the memories of Jill find him as he slowly made his way to the kitchen. That first year, they had filled the pages of her book with sticky notes - at first about the story itself, but then sharing their own experiences and thoughts as they traded it back and forth. Jill was quiet and soft-spoken, but in those pages she didn't hold back like she did when she was in person, and even as a boy he could see she was insightful and thoughtful in a way that he had never seen in anyone before or after. The more they wrote back and forth, the more she opened up to him when they met up for camp activities or during free time. She started to smile and laugh more freely, expressing her opinions without reservation just like she did between the pages of their book.

Every summer after, her father had shipped her the new volume of the War of the Eikons series, and they traded off who would read it first, who would start the first note-writing session. They had had a thousand little adventures in the years they had been together, all stemming from that book. She and Clive (and later Joshua, when he was old enough to be reading it) had used to play-act out the books out in the meadow. And there, at the corner table of the mess hall, they had one day decided that they would become famous artists, and took turns sketching hilariously bad portraits of each other. There was that first summer together, when Clive had beaten her to the top of the climbing wall, but had helped her and taught her which rocks to grab and how to pull herself up until she finally made it to the peak on their second to last day there. There was the year they had both entered the camp archery competition during field day and Jill had left him in the dust. There were all the times they had snuck out of their cabins to meet, all the times they had begged their counselors to let their cabin groups do the camp activities together, all the goodbyes at the end of the camp sessions and joyful reunions at the beginning of summer.

The memories steadied him, and for the first time in hours, Clive finally felt like he could breathe easily. He let those memories carry him into the kitchen, where Molly was toasting several dozen slices of bread on her griddle to prepare for breakfast.

"Coffee?" he asked, voice rougher than he would have liked.

"Kettle on the counter to the right," she said without looking up from her task. "Sugar's in the pantry, milk and creamer in the fridge."

He scavenged a mug from the drying rack before pouring himself a cup. He had drunk his coffee black for years, but was finding that a splash of cream was a welcome indulgence now that he had the option.

Something was missing from the kitchen that morning, and it only took a moment to realize what it was. "Where's Torgal?" he wondered aloud. "He's usually here begging for scraps this time of morning."

"Oh, you haven't heard yet?" Kenneth was the one who answered his question this time as he rounded the corner back into the kitchen. "You've been replaced as his favorite. He took a liking to one of the girls that came in this morning - been following her around like the lost pup that he is!" he chuckled. "Good thing she seems to like dogs. I told her she could feed him breakfast if she wanted - I think she headed out back with his bowl."

Someone who Torgal liked more than him? Clive felt a twinge of jealousy. He and Jill had found the pup one year when they were at camp, abandoned in the woods. They weren't sure if he was from an unwanted litter that had been dumped there or if he had been the runt and had been abandoned, but they had taken him back to Jill's cabin and begged her counselor to let them keep him. Eventually, their pleading and cajoling had borne fruit, and the former camp director had decided to keep him on as the camp dog. When the camp had been sold, Torgal had gone with it and been passed on to Cid.

Clive set down his mug and grabbed a bag of Torgal's favorite treats from the pantry. "We'll see who's the favorite," he muttered under his breath as he headed out behind the mess hall.

To his surprise, Torgal's bowl was still full, sitting in its normal spot at the top of the stairs to the mess hall. In addition to his normal dry food, someone had layered an egg, sunny-side up with the yolk still runny, right on top of it. No wonder the dog had taken a liking to this girl - she was spoiling him. Not that he could blame her - Clive was constantly sneaking him pieces of cheese and letting him lick his dinner plate.

Torgal was sitting on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, not with a girl, but a young woman - one of the counselors arriving today, he assumed. She was bent on one knee before him, scratching him under the jaw just like how he liked, and the dog grumbled in a tone that told Clive he was pleased. His tail swished back and forth in the dirt behind him. He even let her lean forward and wrap her arms around him in a hug, a move Clive knew usually left Torgal feeling constrained and uncomfortable, but he only leaned into it and licked her cheek.

"Kenneth was right - maybe Torgal does have a new favorite," he interrupted, but he found his envy fading. It was hard to be mad at anyone who Torgal seemed to like so much.

The woman froze, her arms still wrapped around Torgal. Leaning against the dog, her silver hair seemed to blend into his gray fur, with only the blue ribbon woven through it to differentiate the two as she slowly withdrew.

But when she stood and turned towards him, something in her face gave Clive pause. There was a familiarity to the shape of her nose, the bow of her lips, the curve of her jaw, that tugged at a memory deep in his subconscious, and his brow furrowed as he tried to chase it down.

"Clive?" Her voice was more breath than sound. "Is that really you?"

Suddenly, it clicked into place for him. There was only one person who had silver hair like that, and even if he ignored that, the big, gray doe-eyes gave her away.

His jaw just about hit the ground.

"Jill?"

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Seeing Jill again was like seeing a ghost come back to life. The chances of her being here, of reuniting, were improbable. Near impossible.

And yet, she stood before him now, seemingly as frozen to the spot as he was, staring up at him with wide eyes and parted lips and he gazed down at her from the top of the small staircase.

It had been thirteen years since he had last seen her.

It had been Clive’s last summer at Camp Bennumere, not that he had known it at the time. Jill had turned twelve several months before, and they had thrown a small birthday party at camp when Clive had turned fifteen in the middle of the camp session, complete with cupcakes courtesy of the commissary staff.

He had noticed that something had changed about Jill almost as soon as they had reunited at the beginning of the summer. Of course, he had always noticed her, but this summer, he felt like he noticed her. He had observed small changes in Jill throughout the years as they had grown older too, as was natural as they aged. He was sure he had changed as he had grown.

But something was different about her this year - something that Clive struggled to place. Jill had always been quiet, but this year, she had settled into that reserve with an elegance befitting a young woman rather than a girl just entering adolescence. If he were the hero of one of their fantasy books, he might be tempted to call it poise. She was developing a confidence within her quietness, and it was noticeable to anyone who had spent even a small amount of time with her. It lent her an aura of mystery that was difficult to ignore - even for him, who called her his best friend and claimed to know her better than anyone else.

It didn’t help that she was pretty, either. She had always been pretty, but she had grown into it over the past year in a way that had him paying more attention to it than before.

Maybe the change wasn’t something that had happened to her, but something that had happened to him. He had, of course, noticed all the strange changes that they had warned them about in health class - the hair popping up in weird places, the embarrassing crackle in his voice if he wasn't careful when he spoke. He had shot up by four full inches over the past year, and was sure he had gained another inch just during the camp session, if the ache in his joints was anything to go by. But while his changes had left him awkward and clumsy no matter how careful he was, she wore her own well. He would have been envious if he hadn't been so enchanted by her.

Clive was familiar with the concept of a crush at this point, and had even had a few of his own. There had been a couple of girls at school that had caught his attention over the past year or so. Being in their presence was terrifying. He desperately wanted to talk to them, to get to know them better, but speaking with them only brought all of his teenage insecurity to the forefront. Just standing in front of them made him nauseous in the best way, his heart rattling like a bird trying to batter its way out of his ribcage. His tongue tied itself into knots whenever he tried to start a conversation. More often than not, his awkwardness ended up driving them away laughing into the arms of their friends, which didn't help his anxiety much. It had killed any attempts at teenage romance so far.

A crush was the closest description he could give of his feelings towards Jill, but this felt different from his past crushes. There was no impending sense of doom to go along with the desire to be with her, no churning stomach and knocking knees - only a deep sense of warmth and comfort, of a desire to be near her as much as she would allow.

This wasn't to say that he didn’t get butterflies in his stomach when he was around her, or that he wasn't still tongue-tied in her presence. Sometimes, conversation flowed easily with her, as it always had. At other times, she would press her arm against his as she read over his shoulder, or would rest her head against his shoulder as the evening campfire started to wind down and she started to yawn, and his brain would turn to television static. He would go silent, feeling foolish as he struggled to find the words, kicking himself for being unable to even talk to his closest friend.

But then she would turn to him and smile, and he would smile back despite the way his cheeks flamed, and that moment of anxiety would pass as she helped him pick up the threads of their conversation, leaving only warmth and camaraderie and something else that he didn't have a name for in its place. All he knew is that he wanted to spend as much of the summer with her as he could.

Which, unfortunately, was harder this summer than it had been in previous summers. Jill had grown close with the girls in her cabin this summer, and had started spending more time with them than she had with the girls in her cabin groups in previous years. There had even been an occasion where he had gone to eat dinner with her, only to find her surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls, all pressed together while they chatted about one thing or another. One had even turned to him and told him off. "This is a girl's only table,” she said snidely. “You sit with her all the time, give the rest of us a chance!"

Jill had turned to him with her palms outstretched, mouthing a "Sorry" before he slunk away back to Joshua, who was just as confused as he was as to why Jill wasn't sitting with them.

She had made it up to them later, ditching her friends at the campfire to go sit between him and Joshua. "Sorry about that - I finally managed to get away. I'm all yours for the night," she said, smiling at him even as his heart rate picked up in tempo.

That had been the pattern of the summer, and Clive did his best not to be jealous. Jill had admitted to him once that she sometimes felt that she struggled to make friends. Clive couldn't think of a single reason why anyone wouldn't be immediately drawn to her, but he couldn't fault her for the feeling. This was the first year he had really seen her closely befriend any of her cabinmates, and he tried not to get in the way or to resent her newfound companions, knowing that having the opportunity to make friends made her happy. It was made easier by the fact that she never made him feel left out, always making time for him and Joshua even as the girls clamored to be with her. She even managed to sneak out after curfew a couple of times during the camp session to meet at their secret hiding spot.

He only wished the camp session was longer, that she could have spent every waking moment with him and a few more besides.

The summer was drawing to a close now, and the time he had left with her was limited. Tomorrow, the buses would come by to pick them up and drive them home, Clive west to Rosalith, and Jill far back to the north.

He was down by the edge of the lake, taking in the sight of the sunlight reflecting off the waves, when she found him. Dinner was over - usually, the camp would gather around a bonfire after the evening meal, but this being their final evening here, they had been released to pack their suitcases or say their goodbyes. The camp staff knew the end of summer was a bittersweet time for the campers. Many were eager to return home to their families, but it also meant leaving their friends behind for another year. School would start again soon, and with it months and months of work and drudgery.

"A picture will last longer, you know," a voice said behind him, and Clive jumped slightly before turning his head so he could see Jill heading towards him at the end of the dock. She came to stand beside him, joining him in looking out over the water.

"I know," he replied. "I just wanted to take it in for a moment." The setting sunlight was warm against their backs, but her presence at his side was warmer. "I can't believe the camp session is over."

"Me neither," she lamented. "I feel like we only just got off of the bus yesterday, and now I'm not going to see you again for another year."

He wanted to ask her for a way to keep in contact. Clive had gotten his first cell phone earlier this year, an old flip phone he had inherited from his dad when he had upgraded, but he didn't know if she had one of her own. He could ask for her address to send letters to, or see if she had an email address - they had already exchanged notes in the War of the Eikons books every year, plus little messages on a thousand other little pieces of paper beyond that, and becoming pen pals wasn't such a huge jump from that. Even letters once a day didn't feel like nearly enough. He wished they were schoolmates, neighbors, even, so they could see each other every day once the summer was over, but he would take whatever she would give him.

He skirted the question for now, trying to find a good way to bring it up. "We're going to have to find a new book for camp next year," he said instead. The final War of the Eikons book had been released over the summer, and they must have exchanged it half a dozen times over the course of the camp session. The ending had been bittersweet, to say the least - but with the slightest tinge of hope shining through the bleakness and misery. "Maybe something with a happy ending this time."

"I'd like that," she replied. "Does that mean you'll be back next summer?"

"I think so. My parents have sent Joshua and I for a few years in a row now. They know how much we love this place - I don't think they'll stop now."

"Good. I think my family will send me again too." She was staring out at the lake, taking in the oranges and reds reflecting off the water.

Then, she shuffled a little closer to him, and her arm brushed up against his as she tilted her head to rest against him. Thanks to his unexpected growth spurt, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. He had noted with no small amount of satisfaction the dramatic difference in their height early on in the summer. He liked it - it made him feel strong, confident, like he was a knight shielding his lady like in one of their stories.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, so quietly that her words would have been carried away by the breeze if she hadn't been standing so close.

Kkkkzzzzhhhjjjjj, went his brain. "I'm going to miss you too," he heard his mouth say. He wanted to wrap his arm around her shoulders, and the hand closest to her twitched, but he resisted, not sure if the gesture would be welcome.

"I always miss you when we're not here," she admitted.

"You do?"

"Mm-hm," he felt her nod against his shoulder.

"I do, too." The admission brought a flush to his cheeks. He was glad for the orangey glow of the sun making it harder to notice.

This would be the perfect moment to ask - if she had an email, a phone, an address, anything to keep in contact with her, but the words stuck in his throat. Despite her admission, some part of him feared that she wouldn't want to be his friend out there. Camp felt like a whole other world away from the reality of family life and school, tinged with an ethereal glow in his mind compared to the drudgery of the world beyond it. Maybe it was the same for her, and he wouldn't be half as appealing of a friend out in the real world.

The moment slipped away. He was disappointed when she moved from her spot leaning against him, but mirrored her to face her when she turned to look at him.

"I still have to pack," she said with no small amount of regret.

"I guess this is goodbye, then."

"For now, at least. I just wanted to see you one last time before we have to leave, but we'll see each other again next summer, won't we?" Her voice was full of hope.

"Of course," he responded. "Until next summer, then."

"Until next summer," she echoed.

She held her arms up expectantly, and he didn't hesitate at the invitation, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace. Her arms twined around his neck, and he had to lean down to hug her so he wouldn't smash her nose against his chest. He tucked his head over her shoulder as her breath tickled his neck. She pulled him further against her, and his arms tightened slightly, savoring the moment.

This will be enough, he told himself. It would have to be enough to sustain him until he saw her again next summer, because he was going to miss her fiercely.

But they couldn't stand there holding each other forever, as much as he wanted to. The sunlight was fading, and they both had to return to their cabins to pack and clean up. With some regret, he loosened his arms to say his final goodbyes.

Jill also pulled back, but didn't release him completely. Instead of stepping back, her fingers laced behind the back of his neck, keeping him hunched over her, and looked into his face. Her gray eyes darted around it as she took in every feature. He tried to memorize everything about that moment - the way the breeze tickled her silver hair against her jaw and the deep blue of the bow she had tied in it, the way her eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks when she blinked, the fact that he could count every faint freckle. They were extremely close together - much closer to her than he could ever remember being for any extended amount of time. Some part of him wanted to pull back, and another part wanted to lean in further, but her hands kept him firmly in one spot. Slowly, Jill stood up on her toes, her fingers on his neck still keeping him in one spot, and he steadied her with his hands on her waist when she wavered.

Despite the fact that the rest of his body was frozen to the spot, his eyes slipped shut of their own accord when she leaned in and kissed him.

Her lips were so soft, and slightly sticky from the lip balm she had been using all summer. When he inhaled, he could smell the sweet scent of the artificial berry flavor of it, could practically taste it on his tongue. His hands flexed against her sides when she leaned in to press her mouth just a little more firmly against his.

Before he had a chance to press back, to worry about whether or not he was doing this right, she pulled back with a soft smack of their lips. His eyes drifted back open to meet hers, which were only half-open. There was a pretty blush adorning her cheeks and racing down her neck.

He wanted to lean down and kiss her once more, to get a second chance to try again. He had heard some people say that kissing took some practice to get just right, and though he couldn't imagine anything better than her kissing him just then, by the founders, he wanted to try. He wanted to kiss her a second time, a third time, a thousand times, until he was an expert, until he could knock her off her feet with just one kiss like she had just done to him.

Before he had the chance, Jill placed her hands on his chest and gave him a playful shove backwards. It wasn't particularly forceful, but he was surprised enough that he stumbled back several steps. Jill turned and sprinted away, her feet crunching on the gravel of the shore.

"See you next summer, Clive!" she hollered as she ran, turning and waving at him over her shoulder with a wide grin plastered across her face. Clive's hand jerked up automatically and waved woodenly in response, his ears still burning as he watched her retreat.

She had kissed him. Jill Warrick had kissed him.

This was the best day of his life.

He turned back to spare a last glance at the shore, a smile spreading across his face. He had already been looking forward to next summer, but now it felt like he couldn't wait to see her again. Maybe he could catch her before the buses left tomorrow morning - it was usually a chaotic time, and her bus generally left much earlier than his own did, but if he got up early, maybe he'd be able to see her before she left and ask if she wanted to keep in contact. He doubted she'd say no, not after this. Better yet, he wanted to convince her to sneak out of her cabin tonight to meet with him again. Maybe he'd even get a chance to return her kiss.

His pulse was fluttering like a bird's wings. How was he supposed to sleep tonight, or any other night for the rest of the year, knowing she felt the same way about him that he did about her? Still grinning like a fool, he turned from the shore to start making his way back to his cabin.

That was when the sound of girls' laughter reached his ears. Clive's heart dropped into his stomach when he recognized the sound.

Near the treeline at the edge of the shore, there were several of the girls in Jill's cabin group, along with Jill herself. One of the older ones slung an arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear, and Jill laughed and pushed at her playfully. When she refused to budge, Jill simply covered her face with her hands and whispered something back to her which set her cackling. The whole bunch left as a group, snickering the whole time.

Clive stood on that shoreline for a long, long time, watching the place where Jill and the other girls had disappeared. It was only when the evening bell rang, reminding everyone to return to their cabins to get an early night’s rest, that he finally stumbled away from the dock.

He finished out his camp session mechanically. He folded his clothes and placed them in his suitcase, and when it was time for bed, he lay down and stared at the bunk above him, though he did not sleep. The next morning, he ate breakfast, but did not taste it, and sat down in the first empty seat on the bus when they loaded up.

"Clive?" Joshua asked from the seat next to him as the bus jerked away. "You've been acting funny all day. Are you alright?"

"Yes," Clive replied hollowly, not even looking at him. "Everything's fine."

But he wasn't fine. When they finally returned home, Clive locked his door and threw himself onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow so his mother wouldn't hear him sob, because by the time the bus had pulled out of the camp parking lot, Clive had accepted that Jill had been making fun of him. Somehow, she had found out about his silly crush on her, and even worse, had found his feelings to be laughable. Nearly as bad was the fact that she had shared it with the other girls in her cabin, and they had found the idea just as ridiculous. The kiss had been a fantastic joke at his expense. The thought of it made Clive want to curl up and die.

By the time the school year had begun, Clive had resolved to give Jill the cold shoulder when they returned to camp. He would make her grovel to earn his forgiveness, because even if it was just a prank at his expense, it was a cruel one, and it had wounded him deeply. Still, he knew Jill, knew she didn't have a mean bone in her body. Even if she had scoffed at his crush, she wasn't the type to play a trick like this. Likely she had been egged on by the girls in her cabin and she had given in to peer pressure. It was still a vicious thing to do to him, but if she begged him hard enough, he would be willing to let bygones be bygones - after a week or two of sucking up to him, of course.

By the time the winter holidays rolled around, he had decided that as long as she apologized, he would forgive her immediately. He missed her madly, and he was too weak for her to refuse if she was sincere. He just wanted to be with her again.

And then his father died suddenly just before the new year, and his mother's attitude towards him went from neglectful to violent. His time from then on was spent trying to dodge her mercurial moods and protecting Joshua from seeing the worst of it. After that, there were no more summers at camp, and that was the last time he ever saw Jill Warrick.

Until today.

"Jill?" he breathed incredulously, drinking in the sight of her. He slowly made his way down the steps to be on level ground with her. She had changed so much since he had last seen her. Her hair was significantly longer, falling to her hips with a braid twining through part of it behind one ear. Her face had lost much of the baby fat of youth, but she had retained the same delicately pointed chin. Her eyes were still that same pale gray, but with an astonished look in them that he had never seen before. Despite how much she had grown, he would have been a fool not to immediately recognize her.

He didn't care about any silly, childish pranks from their youth - her mocking of his affections had been the sole sour note marring the otherwise easy, comfortable cadence of their friendship, and he refused to allow his teenage overreaction the opportunity to ruin another chance at a relationship. Besides, it was all far in the past, and though he may have been hurt at the time, it was silly to be offended by a joke taken too far, especially when it was so many years ago. All he cared about was that she was somehow, improbably, impossibly, here with him now.

A smile began to spread across his face. "I can't believe it's really you," he said, spreading his arms wide to invite her in for a hug.

But she didn't rush into him like he had hoped. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, staring into his face, her eyes enormous.

Oh. Right. The smile dropped from his face and one arm fell to his side. The other hand rose to the deep scar across his left cheek. Much of the camp staff had a similar reaction when they had first seen it, though most had concealed it better than she currently was. It was an ugly, jagged thing that marred his face, made him look far more frightening than he wanted to be. He glanced away from her, suddenly too ashamed to look her in the eye as he attempted to find the words.

He struggled to find a way to explain it quickly. The true story felt too raw to explain at such a delicate moment. "Ah, I know it's a little - "

This time, the sound of his voice broke whatever spell she was under. Jill jerked forward and stumbled the last few steps into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"It's really you," she breathed and she pressed her face against his shoulder, and Clive automatically hugged her back. "You're really here."

"I am," he replied, just as unbelieving as she was.

He wanted to stand there and hold her forever, but it would probably be weird to hug her for that long. After all, though they had once been close, they hadn't seen each other for more than a decade. Embracing someone who was more or less a complete stranger for too long would probably be uncomfortable for her, even if all he wanted to do was fall into all of the childhood memories that having her nestled in his arms brought rushing back. He took one last moment to enjoy the feeling of her cradled against him before preparing to withdraw.

"Wait, don't - " Jill clung all the tighter to him, but cut herself off halfway through her plea, as if realizing what she was saying. It was then that he realized - she had missed him just as much as he had missed her, and was just as nervous as he was about making the moment awkward. The thought made his throat swell shut with unshed tears.

So instead of stepping back, Clive pulled her back into him as she made to withdraw, holding her all the tighter. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, and his other hand came to rest on the back of her head, tucking it back against his shoulder. "Just give me a minute here," he choked out. He felt more than heard her give a contented sigh of relief, and she melted back into him. Clive rested his cheek against the side of her hair and closed his eyes, inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo.

They stood holding each other like that for a long, long time.

It was Torgal that finally broke them out of it. He nudged his nose against Clive's hip, jostling them, and licked at Jill's hand with a whine. A laugh bubbled up in his chest as he finally loosened his arms from around her, letting her pull back from him. "Sorry, boy," he said as she stepped back. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out."

"I can't believe you're really here," Jill said, and he looked back at her. To his surprise, she was pulling her hand away from her face, almost like she was wiping her eyes. However, when she turned to fully face him, she was smiling. "Both of you. After all these years."

"It's been some time," he agreed. "Jill...forgive me for asking, but what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," she replied. "I have a job here for the summer. I'm a camp counselor."

"You too?"

"You're also going to be a counselor?"

Clive nodded. "I've been here for two weeks already. Cid wanted an extra body here to help set up."

"I only just arrived this morning." Suddenly, a guilty look spread across her face. "I'm...actually supposed to go check in with Cid. I was supposed to go to his office as soon as I got here, but I was sidetracked when I realized Torgal was still here. Kenneth was kind enough to let me feed him breakfast before I went to go meet with him." Torgal barked and nosed at her hand, and she reached down to scratch him under his chin, just how Clive knew he liked.

"You probably need to get going, then." The words tasted like ash on his tongue, and he tried not to let his shoulders sag with disappointment. He didn't want her to go, even if it was only for a little while, but neither did he want to keep her from leaving when she needed to. Still, some selfish part of him wanted her to stay here with him, sit down on the steps of the mess hall and talk for hours, just like they used to when they would reunite in the summers of their childhood.

"I do," she replied, but she didn't move from her spot, still taking him in.

He gave her a hesitant smile. "Staff orientation starts in a few hours. We'll see each other then," he offered. "Even if not, we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other over the summer."

"Yes," she replied. Still, she paused before leaving. "Do you want to meet up after orientation? We can catch up again, if you'd like to."

Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders. He was eager for any time at all that she'd be willing to give him, and knowing that she was as eager to reconnect as he was made it a little easier to let her go - but only marginally so.

"I'd love to," he replied, perhaps a little over-eager. "At the usual spot, then? After dinner?"

"That sounds perfect," she breathed. "Until then, Clive."

"Until then."

Finally, she turned away from him and started trekking down the dirt path towards the building where he knew Cid's office to be. He watched her go, still half-believing she was about to disappear, or he'd wake up and she'd be gone.

But then she turned to glance over her shoulder at him, and smiled and waved before continuing the path. He didn't even get a chance to return the gesture. Even after she turned the bend in the path, he stood there looking at the spot where she had disappeared.

"Founder, Torgal," he murmured when Torgal leaned against his leg, looking up at him. He bent down to one knee and stroked the dog's ears, which Torgal gladly leaned into. "This summer just got a hell of a lot more interesting."

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Orientation for the camp counselors started at noon, and the commissary staff had provided lunch to go with it. There were sandwiches and fruits laid out on a buffet table, along with a tall stack of several packets of paper. As the staff filed in they picked over the meal trays for their favorites and each grabbed a packet before finding a seat, taking the opportunity to introduce themselves to their neighbors that they would be working with for the rest of the summer.

Clive had met most of the regular camp staff, but he hadn't met most of the other counselors yet, with many of them only arriving within the past couple of days. However, most of the new arrivals took one look at him, at the scarred cheek and the thunderous look on his face, at the way he was shredding the peel of his half-eaten orange anxiously, and gave him a wide berth.

Jill was here. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't been holding her in his arms just a few short hours ago. Already, it seemed more like a dream than reality.

He wondered what she had been doing for the past thirteen years. Had she been upset when he hadn't returned to camp the following summer, or did she manage to make other friends? What had she done with her life once she had aged out of the camp program? Did she still live in the north, or had she relocated? How many years had she been a counselor for? And, perhaps most importantly, what had drawn her to come back here all these years later?

Clive knew he'd get the chance to ask her when they met up again later that night, but that didn't stop the questions from burning in his mind.

When his orange peel was shredded practically into zest, Cid broke away from his conversation with Otto to take to the small raised dais at the front of the room. By that time, the tables closest to Cid were crowded with the camp staff, each with a lunch plate and a packet.

"Afternoon, all," Cid said, "and welcome to Camp Bennumere, our own little slice of heaven here on Storm. Everyone grab their welcome packets on their way in? We've got a lot to go over and only a few hours to do it." There was a chorus of "yes"s and "aye"s from the crowd, and one very confused sounding "there's a welcome packet?" before someone directed them to the stack of papers. "Good. Let's get started, shall we?"

Cid started out by introducing Otto, who was going to go over camp safety procedures, but Clive almost missed it when someone swung their leg over the bench to take the seat next to him. His table wasn't too crowded, with Gav sitting on his left and Molly on the far side, but with only counselors and no campers, there were a number of empty tables, many of them closer to the front of the room and not directly next to someone. Clive glanced away from Otto, who was taking to the stage, to see who it was -

The smell of wildflowers in his nose, the silver hair that brushed his arm when she sat down, the way her eyes crinkled a little when she smiled -

"Hey," Jill whispered as she took the seat right next to him. "Sorry I'm late. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," he whispered back. "Did you manage to grab one of these?" He indicated the welcome packet strewn in front of him.

"I didn't," she replied. "Is there a spare somewhere?"

There were a few more welcome packets stacked near the buffet table, but reaching it would have meant passing right in front of the dais and interrupting Otto, and already Cid had turned in his seat to see who was whispering. "You can share mine," he said, pushing the papers over so that they were positioned between them.

"Thank you," she said, and bent her head low to start thumbing through the provided papers. Cid caught Clive's eye from across the room, and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Clive didn't know how to respond, so he just shrugged. When Cid turned back to listen to Otto, Clive was pretty sure he caught a ghost of a smile spreading across his face.

Otto started in on their safety orientation, and the room collectively shuffled through the packet to find the camp map as instructed. Jill placed the paper on top of the stack and leaned over it. Her shoulder was a scant inch away from being pressed up against his. Clive resisted the urge to lean against it, like he might have when they were younger. They may have been that close once, but it had been many years since they were that comfortable with each other.

Up front, Otto was going over what was probably an extremely important speech about emergency evacuation routes, but Clive was struggling to pay attention. How was he supposed to focus when his old friend was here with him, after so many years? He knew they were supposed to meet later, but tonight felt like a million years away. He had so many questions for her, had so much he wanted to share and reminisce upon, but instead he was stuck here listening to Otto talk about where the closest fire extinguishers were. It was the sweetest type of torture - to be reunited with her after all this time, to be so close and yet so far away, to have her here with him but be unable to talk to her.

A smile came to him unbidden as he was struck by an idea. Clive picked up one of the pens scattered on the table and uncapped it. He made a show of listening intently to Otto, the tip of the pen hovering over one of emergency exit routes on the map as he debated the best angle. Then, right next to the rock climbing wall on the paper, he wrote, Have you passed by here yet? They upgraded the wall.

He passed the paper to Jill, and her head tilted curiously before she caught sight of what he had written. She pressed her lips together, but he could see the corners of her mouth pull upwards as she tried to suppress a smile, probably remembering the dozens of sticky notes passed back and forth between their books over the years. She took another pen from the table, and Clive did his best to pay attention to Otto as her pen scratched against the paper.

He glanced back down when she scooted the paper back to him. Did they rearrange it? Or was it reconstructed? Her writing was neater than it had been when they were kids, and a little less loopy. He could see she had kept her habit of circling rather than dotting her "i"s, though. The sight of it filled him with fondness as he wrote a response.

They added an extra ten feet or so to the top, he wrote back.

I guess I can't brag to the kids that I've climbed to the top of the rock climbing wall anymore.

Unless you manage to climb it again by the end of the summer. Clive paused for a long moment, his pen hovering over the page, to the point where he felt Jill turn her head to glance over at what he was writing. Then, he added on, I'd be happy to help you get to the top again if you'd like.

There was a long, tense moment where he could see Jill out of the corner of his eye looking down at the paper, not responding, and he wondered if he had pushed too hard. He tried unsuccessfully to focus on Otto talking about earthquake safety.

She nudged the paper against his arm when she passed it back to him. I'd like that, she had written. You're probably better at rock climbing than I am these days. Just like when we were kids, right?

He smiled down at the paper, and wrote back, Yeah. Just like when we were kids.

The room erupted into polite applause as Otto finished his safety orientation and Clive slid the paper back in Jill's direction. He belatedly joined in before Cid started speaking again, this time reminding everyone of the time off policy. Six weeks was a long time to work without a break, so the counselors rotated their days off every week, with the other counselors or camp staff watching the kids during their break time.

The corner of the paper jabbed into his elbow again. It wasn't the camp map that she was passing him this time, but the list of all the counselors, their cabins, and the kids in each cabin group. She had circled his name and written, This is your group? right near where the "Boys 10-12" label was. He wasn't sure what she was getting at, until he saw the arrow pointing to her own name and her own set of kids, girls in the ten to twelve age range.

We've got the same age range? he wrote back.

Looks like it, was her response. He had to suppress the look of joy on his face. Cabin groups often buddied up to do certain activities together, and though counselors were free to work with whichever groups they wanted, oftentimes the boys and girls in similar age groups would pair up for those activities just by virtue of the kids getting along better with other children close to their own age.

Seems like we'll be seeing a lot of each other this summer, he wrote.

It will be just like old times.

I'm looking forward to it.

"On the subject of teenage romance," Cid said, loudly and pointedly. Clive's head shot up from where they were exchanging notes. "I'd like to remind you all that this is not the place for a summer fling. I know you're all young, hot, and stuck together for the next six weeks, but this is a job , not a speed dating service. Especially for this group, " he accused, pointing to a table near the front where most of the junior counselors were sitting. The program was made up of seventeen to nineteen years old teenagers, most of them veterans from past camp years. Too old to join any of the regular cabins, but too young to be counselors themselves, most of them had signed up to pad out their college applications and job resumes, or to make a bit of extra gil during the summer. Some of them, he suspected, had been sent here by their parents just to keep them out of trouble.

There were several nervous giggles from the junior counselor table as the rest of the room shared in an indulgent chuckle at their expense. However, during the whole exchange, Cid had not looked away from Clive. His ears burned, and he did his best not to glance over at Jill sitting next to him to see her reaction, knowing he'd give himself away if he did.

"No summer flings," Cid repeated, finally breaking eye contact with Clive. "We need to set a good example for the kids, especially those of you in charge of the teenagers, aye? That being said, if you must, use protection. Tarja has condoms hidden in the nurse's office, but she told me she draws the line at STI examinations, and we don't keep pregnancy tests here."

"That's incorrect," Tarja called out. "I told you I have a limited supply of pregnancy tests, and I will be silently judging you if you come to the nurse's station for the second but not the first." Once again, the room burst into laughter. Clive finally risked a glance over at Jill. She had an elbow planted on the table and her fist pressed against her mouth as she tried to suppress her smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusem*nt and her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Her cheeks were flushed a fetching pink.

That sparked another idea in him. Now that Cid was no longer staring him down and was back to talking about the more vanilla aspects of camp conduct, he reached for the map once again.

There was a space on the map behind the dock house not too far from the shore that he had heard about from some of the boys in his cabin groups during his later teenage years. It was relatively quiet, and the corner of the building provided a decent amount of cover, and the sound of footsteps would be amplified on the wood of the dock, giving an amorous couple plenty of warning to jump apart if they were paying attention to the sound. There had been a brief time when the thought of kissing Jill in that quiet nook by the dock had featured in most of his teenage fantasies.

He drew an arrow to the dock house, and wrote, Under/Over on how many teenage makeout sessions we'll have to break up here over the summer?

When she saw the words he had written across the page, Jill snorted into her hand, which was still pressed up against her lips. Cid's eyes darted back to them, and they both made a show of paying close attention to his speech until he looked away again. He could see she was still suppressing a smile when she scribbled out her response.

Five?

Really? Only five? He responded. We're here all summer. That's less than one a week.

You asked how many we, personally, would break up, and only specifically there, she replied. It doesn't count if someone else finds them, or if we find them somewhere else.

He considered that for a moment. I'll take that bet. I still think it will be higher than that.

You're on, she wrote in response.

"Now that the logistics are out of the way," Cid said, and Clive paused in scratching out a reply to tune back into the conversation. "Let's stretch our legs a bit and take a tour of the camp, shall we? Clive, you've been here the longest. You probably know this place like the back of your hand by now. Perhaps you'd like to lead the group?"

Clive startled guiltily at the mention of his name. "I'd love to," he croaked out, though there was nothing he wanted to do less . He wanted to sit here and pass notes back and forth with Jill forever.

Scratch that. He wanted the chance to actually talk to her, but it didn't seem like that would be happening anytime soon. He'd have to bide his time until later tonight.

He rose from his seat, and the rest of the room followed suit. Cid jogged over to walk next to him as the group followed them out of the mess hall. "You can start here and take us to the hiking trails on the far side of camp, then circle back here to the arts and crafts hall," he told him. Then, Cid slung an arm around his shoulders, his mouth tilted up in a crooked smile. "And next time? At least pretend like you're paying attention."

The tour took longer than it should have - there had been some changes to the camp layout since he had been a camper, with a few new structures built or added on to, but even then, Clive knew his way around pretty well after running around as the camp errand boy for the better part of two weeks. However, Cid stopped at nearly every building to go over details or share amusing anecdotes, meaning the whole tour took over two hours despite the fact that one could walk from one end of the camp to the other within twenty minutes. The whole time, Clive was forced to stand awkwardly next to him as he waited to guide them to their next destination.

He could see Jill in the small crowd, but she was doing a much better job listening to Cid than he was, though when he glanced behind him she could see her chatting with Tarja every once in a while when Cid wasn't lecturing them. Clive wished Cid hadn't picked him out of the crowd to lead the tour - then he could be the one blending into the crowd and catching up with her.

Finally - finally - they had looped back around to the arts and crafts area, which was little more than a small, quaint hut where the supplies were stored with several picnic benches scattered around the deck in front of it. Cid finally stepped forward to relieve Clive of his tour guide duties.

"We've got an activity of our own on the books for you lot today," Cid said. "As stated in the welcome email you all should have received when you were hired, you'll all pick a nickname to go by while you're here. You can pick anything you want, but it's what all the kids are going to call you for the rest of the summer, so pick something you like that you're going to remember to respond to. You'll be expected to call each other by those names as well - at least, while the campers are present."

The activity in question involved painting badges for themselves with their nicknames written upon them and a drawing of some sort to represent their nickname. Blackthorne, the camp arts and crafts director, had already laid out the wooden bases of the badges, along with a variety of paints. "You don't need to be the best artist to draw these," Cid told them. "They don't need to be good, they just need to be fun ."

To Clive's chagrin, he found himself separated from Jill once again as the camp staff all crowded around the picnic tables. She was seated facing him two tables away, hip to hip with Tarja as they painted their badges. He didn't know what they were talking about, but Jill was smiling. Tarja made a comment and nudged her, and Jill laughed.

It was a nice laugh. The sound of it made Clive smile.

"What are you doing, smilin' down at your art project?" Gav asked, peering over his shoulder at the mediocre drawing he was sketching out on the wooden material.

"f*ck off, Gav," he said, doing his best to wipe the foolish grin from his face and failing miserably.

"It don't look like nothin’ special to me," he said, squinting at his handiwork.

"You're just jealous because I took the best camp nickname."

"Eeehhh...It's okay, I suppose..."

It was middling at best, but he wasn't about to say that out loud to Gav. "It's better than Scout, at least," he shot back, taking in Gav's drawing of a stick figure boy scout. He was much further along in his painting than he was, so Clive grabbed a clean paint brush and dipped it into the gray paint even as Gav stammered out a protest.

He had just finished by the time Cid called them to a halt. "Hopefully you're all done," he said. "Why don't we go around and do introductions? Some of you know each other from past years, but we've got a lot of new faces here. Let's start over here - tell the group your camp nickname and what you do here."

The introductions started with Tarja, who stood and introduced herself as "Stitches", the head nurse of the camp. She had been with the camp for a number of years, and the badge she hung from her lanyard was already well-worn, though she had touched up the paint so it wasn't as faded. One by one, each of the members of the camp staff introduced themselves as their new camp nicknames and their role within the camp. It was almost poetic - each counselor and staff member setting aside their old names and their lives outside of camp in favor of their role within the camp. Founder knew Clive could use some of that just about now.

Well, perhaps not entirely , he thought as it was Jill's turn to introduce herself. There were some memories from his old life he was happy to have stick around.

"Hello, everyone," she said as she stood. "You can call me Starlight - or 'Star', if that's too much of a mouthful. I'm a counselor, and I'll be with the girls' groups, ages ten to twelve. I look forward to getting to know everyone over the summer."

Starlight. It was the perfect name for her - he couldn't have come up with a better one himself. Not only did it match the color of her hair, but also called to mind one of her favorite hobbies from when they were children. Jill had always been better with constellations than he had been, and there had been many a late night that she had traced out pictures in the sky with her fingertip and told him the old stories associated with them. He wondered if she still had a love for astronomy.

It wasn't long before he was called upon to introduce himself to the camp staff as well, and Clive stood from his seat and cleared his throat awkwardly. He had known about the need for a camp nickname for some time, but had struggled to come up with one as he ran errands around the property. He had wracked his brain for the past two weeks to come up with something he'd be comfortable being called for the rest of the summer, and had eventually settled on one that he felt suited him well enough. It still didn't feel quite right, but he had run out of time to come up with a better one, so it would have to do. Besides, it brought to mind a good memory - of he and Jill, all those years ago, and the puppy they had found in the rain on that stormy afternoon. The same dog that had brought them together once again all these years later.

"Hello," he greeted everyone. "I'm a counselor, I'll be caring for boys in the ten to twelve age group. For the rest of the summer, you can call me Wolf."

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Dinner that night was a raucous affair, despite the fact that the mess hall was emptier than it would be for the rest of the summer. The staff crowded into the first several tables at the front of the cafeteria, leaving the back half empty, but it meant that conversations got layered over each other, and everyone's voices were loud so they could be heard even by the people just directly across the table from them, which caused everyone else around them to speak louder, too. Cid had encouraged them all to get used to calling each other by their nicknames, as they would need to be doing so starting tomorrow for the next six weeks. In the same vein, everyone was aware that starting tomorrow, they'd be caring for children for the rest of the summer, would need to be the adults regardless of the situation, which led to a certain amount of immaturity at the dinner table as everyone tried to get it out of their system. There was a more than liberal amount of swearing, only slightly fewer less-than-child-appropriate stories shared, and one dinner roll tossed at a poor counselor's forehead as he made an obscene joke. Only Kenneth's timely complaint about how long those rolls had taken to make kept the incident from devolving into a full-on food fight.

Clive, for his part, was actually enjoying himself. Once again, he was seated near Gav, and he was finding that he rather appreciated the other man's company. As the camp naturalist and a veteran of the camp of five summers, he had seen a number of wild things happen over the years, including the year when it had snowed in the upper peaks surrounding the Mere and driven frightened and hungry wildcats down into the campgrounds, or the year the butterfly migration pattern had changed, leading to the trees along the hiking trails looking more like a stained glass rainforest than the deep woods with all the insects hanging from the leaves. Clive suspected that his tales were at least slightly embellished, but he had to admit he did tell a compelling story, and he, like the rest of the table, was almost completely enraptured as he loudly shared his adventures. Only Vivian, the librarian's assistant, seemed content to call him on his inconsistencies.

It was only the sight of Jill the next table over that kept him from fully falling into the story. Jill was seated near Tarja, the camp nurse, Rodrigue, her assistant, and Kenneth, the head cook. He was a little disappointed when he had missed his chance to sit near her again, but she seemed to be getting along well with the group, listening along to something that Tarja was saying. He wished he could hear what they were talking about, but the group was quieter than his boisterous table, whose volume only seemed to be going up as the night wore on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jill stand, setting a hand on Kenneth's shoulder and saying something to him as she cleared her plate and brought it to the wash bin. Her eyes skimmed over the crowd as she walked back through the tables before finally alighting on him. She gave the slightest smile and a small wave before slipping out the side door. It seemed she hadn't forgotten their promise to meet later.

Clive resolved to count to five hundred before he followed her. Cid had already retreated to his office for the evening, but he didn't need to endure any more teasing from his mentor today. Besides, they weren't the only couple slipping out of the mess hall early tonight. Cid's comment about summer flings was fresh in everyone's minds, and there were more than a few people that had decided to take advantage of the grace period before the kids arrived. He didn't want everyone assuming the same of him and Jill, just in case anyone else had seen her sneaking out the door.

Clive had made it to sixty-three before he gave up and stood from his seat. "It's starting to get late," he said to the table. "I'm going to turn in for the night."

Vivian gave him a strange look. "Clive, it's barely seven-thirty."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "The kids show up early tomorrow."

"They don't show up until after lunch."

"I haven't even seen the cabin I'm supposed to live in for the next six weeks. I need to unpack and get settled."

Several members of the table shared a knowing look. So much for subtlety.

"Let him rest," Otto said, finally having mercy on him. "He's been running up and down the camp for the past two weeks. He deserves a break from you lot before he has to endure you nonstop for the rest of the summer."

"Yes. It's been a while since I got a full night's sleep," Clive grabbed onto the lifeline Otto had thrown him, grateful for his intervention even knowing that his early departure would probably make its way back to Cid.

The table finally let him go, with a chorus of "Good night"s and "Sleep well"s and one "Don't you stay up too late, now, you hear?" from Gav, and Clive swiftly made his exit.

In the time since they had entered the cafeteria, the sky had gone from the blush of sunset to the full black of night. The temperature had dropped quickly, as it did in the mountains, but the cool night air was a blessing upon his flushed skin. He exhaled slowly, allowing the embarrassment to melt away before heading off towards the outskirts of camp.

Many years ago, he and Jill had discovered a spot where they would often meet. It was within the gated campgrounds, but not marked on any of the maps. Though technically not a secret, one would have to wander off the beaten path to find it, so there were few that would intrude upon them there. The camp itself was well-lit, with porch lights on just about every building and lamps strung up along the paths, but there was no road to their usual spot. He took a left through the grass some ways past the arts and crafts hall, and paused to let his eyes adjust to the low light. The moon was full tonight, and the stars shone bright, but even then it had been some time since he had made this trip. Still, his feet seemed to remember the way, taking him on a turn past an ancient redwood and over a dry creek bed.

He smiled when he caught sight of a fresh footprint at a point where the light shone through the branches. There was a track where the grass had been parted by someone's footsteps, as well. It seemed Jill remembered the way just as well as he did.

The trees, once pressed so close it felt like he needed to weave between them, suddenly parted into a small clearing. When they had found this place many years ago, it had been after a spring of heavy rain, and the whole field had been covered in white wildflowers. Snow daisies, Jill had called them. At the time, he had thought that the field of flowers stretched out before him was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

As he exited from between the trees, he was greeted by a sight infinitely more lovely. The rains had been light in the mountains that spring, but though there were no flowers blooming this year, Jill was standing in the center of the clearing, shrouded in moonlight. In the faint glow of her chosen namesake, she was ethereal.

She had had more foresight than he did, for she had brought a small flashlight with her to help her navigate the dark path. It was currently gripped between her teeth, pointed down at the stack of papers cradled in her left arm - the same welcome packet that they had been reviewing this morning. Her opposite hand held an uncapped felt-tipped pen, marking something down upon the pages.

"Jill," he called, just loud enough for her to hear, reluctant to break the spell of the moment.

She looked up at the sound of her name, squinting from the light bouncing off the pages. It wasn't until she recapped the pen and removed the flashlight from between her teeth, pointing it at the ground to make sure she didn't blind him, that recognition washed over her face. "Hey," she responded, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a gentle smile.

"You really came," he breathed as he approached. After spending most of the day staring at her like a creep, he was moderately sure she wasn't a mirage about to disappear the moment he glanced away, but some part of him had worried that she was only being polite when she told him she'd meet him here later, and that she'd simply disappear back to her cabin to laugh about it with her friends.

"Of course I did," she replied softly as he came to stand before her. "I promised, didn't I?"

Suddenly, a pang of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. Once, at this very camp, he had promised to come back and spend another summer with her - a promise he had failed to keep. His eyes dipped down to his feet remorsefully. "I'm glad you did, all the same," he said.

Clive did his best to shake off the feeling - perhaps he hadn't fulfilled his promise in exactly the way that he had envisioned, but they were both here now. Instead, he tried to lighten the mood. "You're not still working through the welcome packet, are you?" he asked, indicating the stack of papers she had tucked against her chest.

"I am," she confirmed. "Unfortunately, someone kept distracting me as I was trying to go through it," she said with a pointed look.

Clive had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. I realize you only arrived this morning and haven't had a chance to look through it, I should have let you read it in peace."

She reached out to touch his arm to get him to look back at her. "It was the nice type of distraction," she admitted, and this time around he could see the amusem*nt in her eyes. "But I am hoping we'll get the chance to catch up in person. Trying to do it while writing with Cid looking over our shoulders wouldn't have been the best idea," she said with a soft laugh as she withdrew her hand.

"I'd like that," he told her. "Do you want to go for a walk around the camp? We can catch up, reminisce on old times."

"That sounds lovely," she replied. "Do you want me to lead the way back?" she asked, holding her flashlight up a little higher, careful to keep the bulb pointed towards the ground.

"Please do."

He let her walk in front of him for most of the way back, led by the light of her flashlight. When it came time to cross the dry creek bed, he hopped across first, then turned to extend his hand to help her make the jump. She took it gratefully, but he was reluctant to release her hand once she was across. If she noticed that his hand was slow to let go of hers, his fingers briefly tangling with her own before unwinding them, she didn't comment on it.

They were silent until they were back on the official paths of camp, most of their attention focused on not tripping in the dark. Jill turned off her flashlight now that the lights lining the path illuminated the dirt road in front of them.

"Down towards the lake?" she suggested. "We can make a loop of the camp's boundaries, if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful," he replied, moving to walk beside her as their steps slowly meandered towards the shoreline.

Jill was the first to break the companionable silence. "I still can't believe you're really here," she breathed, and he glanced down at her. Though now illuminated by the harsher lights of the camp porchlight, she looked no less unearthly than she had under the moonlight. "What have you been doing all these years, Clive? It's been so long."

It was a more loaded question than she knew, and one that he didn't feel fully prepared to answer. He debated for several moments, before realizing she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. "Forgive me. It's been more than a decade since we've last seen each other," he said.

"Trying to figure out how to best summarize?"

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, and picked the most neutral answer he could think of. "After I graduated high school, I went into the military," he said carefully.

"I figured it was something of the sort," she said with a smile. "Your tags kept tangling with your lanyard. You were adjusting them all day. Thank you for your service."

The revelation that she had apparently been watching him closely enough that day to notice was soured by her last sentence. He hated that phrase. If she knew the things he had done in the name of supposed peace, she wouldn't be thanking him. Almost by instinct, his hand rose to run along the length of his scar, but he stopped himself halfway up, instead untangling his dog tags from his camp lanyard with his nametag pinned to it. He could already tell that it was going to become a nervous habit of his for the rest of the summer.

"Are you on leave? Will you be going back after the summer?" she asked.

"No," he said, shorter than he intended, and immediately regretted it. He took a deep breath, and continued in a softer tone, "I decided to leave. Permanently. It felt like it was time to retire - after all, I'm not getting any younger."

Jill reached out once more to rest her hand on his arm as they walked, and her steady touch helped to soothe him. "You're not so old," she said to him. "If you're old, then I'm not far behind, and I hope you haven't grown rude enough to comment on a lady's age."

"Of course not," he said, glad for the change of subject. "I'm still young enough to pick up a few new tricks." He gave her a wan smile, more out of gratitude than out of humor, which she returned before pulling back and continuing along the path.

"Are you still living in Rosalith?" she asked as they continued their walk.

"No, but I try to go back frequently to visit. I mostly live on base in Northreach." He hadn't spent much time in Northreach, to be honest, but it was technically where his address was located and where he kept his personal effects. "I've...actually been thinking of moving back home to Rosalith now that I've retired."

He was thankful to her for steering the conversation into safer waters. He had always valued Jill for her discretion when they were children. It was a trait that she seemed to have retained into her adulthood, that sense for when to guide the conversation in a different direction when he wasn't sure how to articulate the need himself.

Unfortunately for him, she changed the subject to the only topic he wanted to discuss less than his time in the military. "What about Joshua?" she asked, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest. He wasn't ready to return to that particular train of thought, especially after crying his eyes out this morning had done little to soothe his troubled soul. "It's been so long since I've seen him. How is he?"

"The same," he just barely managed to choke out. It wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't really the truth either, but just the thought of saying it out loud was a knife to his throat.

"That's good to hear," she sighed. "I'm happy to hear you've both been doing so well. Maybe one day we'll have to have a reunion."

"That would be nice," he said falteringly. The mental image of him, Jill, and Joshua all reunited back at summer camp was a beautiful one, but one that sent a lance of agony through him.

He needed to change the subject, and quickly. He cleared his throat. "What about you?" he asked. "What have you been up to all these years?"

"Me?" she said, almost like she was surprised that he had turned the question back upon her. "Nothing quite so exciting as you, I'm sure."

"I somehow doubt that," he replied. "Tell me about it anyways."

"Very well," she assented. "I decided to keep with my schooling after I left high school, and I moved to Drustanus a few years ago for work. I'm actually an attorney."

His steps stuttered for a moment. "An attorney?" he said, shocked. "I thought you said you haven't been doing anything exciting."

"I didn't say it was exciting," she replied.

"I don't see how it couldn't be. Law school. Damn," he said with a low whistle. "I always knew you would go far, Jill Warrick. Even when we were children."

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

"And now you're a camp counselor. Decided you were tired of raking in the gil as a big-time lawyer?"

"Yes, well. I felt like I was ready for a bit of a change."

Her tone had gone pinched, and it was only then that he realized that he had just stepped on a metaphorical landmine. Clive looked sharply away from the path back towards her. Jill had always been better at disguising her emotions than he had been, and it had been many years since he had been able to read her as well as he could when they were children, but he could see that her expression, once open and friendly, had shuttered. He couldn't guess as to what was going on behind her storm-gray eyes, but for the first time, he wondered if she had endured struggles as he had these past several years.

He was not as adept in the art of conversation as she was, and struggled to alight on a new topic. For several minutes, the two of them walked in silence.

They paused when they reached the shore of the Mere. It was so much like the last time they had been here together, looking out on the water during the last summer together. This time, instead of the sun setting, the moon has risen high in the sky, its reflection huge and nearly undisturbed in the lake. Once more, a wave of regret washed over him - not just for his overreaction to her childish prank when they had last seen each other, but for the way he had left her here alone all those years ago.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out suddenly, and Jill turned to face him, her head tilted curiously. "The last time we met - I promised I'd be back at camp the next year, and I wasn't. I didn't mean to lie to you."

"Clive, that's not - "

He cut her off. "No, let me say this. Please." She hesitated, but then nodded, letting him continue. "I thought I would return at the time, I really did, but my father passed that winter. It was very sudden - a car accident driving back from the airport after a business trip." It was still painful to talk about, but it was an old hurt, one that didn't leave him drowning in the feeling. "Afterwards, my mother became...disinterested in parenting. Sending us back to camp wasn't exactly her first priority. I ended up taking custody of Joshua once I turned eighteen, and everything else was just so complex at that point, and I never got the opportunity to send him back to you. I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you alone at camp."

"Clive," she murmured. Her hand had come up to rest over her chest. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"It was a long time ago," he replied, and gave her a weak smile, "but I appreciate it all the same. I always felt bad that I didn't get to keep my promise."

"You don't need to feel bad," she told him. Jill's hand dropped from over her heart, and she broke eye contact with him to look out over the lake. He heard her take a deep, shaky breath.

"Truly, there's no need to apologize - because I never came back after that summer, either." She turned her head back to him to meet his eyes once again, though her gaze was shaky, like it was difficult to do so. "I don't know if you remember, but there was a financial crisis in the North that year."

That did sound familiar - he remembered the northern municipalities of Storm had suffered a huge market crash some years ago, but it wasn't until now that he realized that it had coincided with their last year at camp. "I do," he confirmed.

"Unfortunately, my father's business was hit especially hard by it. My parents knew that something was wrong before I left, and found out the full extent early on in the summer. The family home was actually foreclosed on not long after I left for camp. They'd already paid for the session in full by that time, and they figured they'd have a few weeks to sort out our living situation and everything else, knowing I'd be fed and sheltered and clothed while I was here, at least. I didn't even know anything was wrong until I returned. It was...quite the shock," she said, looking down and clearing her throat at the end. "After that, it simply wasn't in the budget to send me back."

Clive's heart went out to her, and on instinct, his hand reached out to take one of hers, just like he might have done to comfort her when they were younger. "I'm sorry, Jill," he said, squeezing her fingers in his own. The motion was perhaps more appropriate for their old friendship rather than their current level of familiarity, but he wanted to offer her that same support that she had given him. "I had no idea."

"Yes, well," she said. "Like you said, it was a long time ago. I had wanted to be able to tell you so you wouldn't feel like I abandoned you, and felt awful that I didn't have a way to reach out. I always wondered if you had missed me that summer that I wasn't there. I guess neither of us got the chance to return."

Of course I missed you. I've missed you for my entire life, he wanted to say, but it felt much too intimate at this point, even with her hand resting in his. "That isn't exactly true," he replied instead. "We're here now, aren't we?"

That finally prompted Jill to smile again. "We were just delayed by a few years," she huffed out with a laugh, and turned her hand to finally lace her fingers with his. "We'll finally get to spend another summer together, just like we promised. It almost feels like fate, doesn't it?"

"It does," he agreed, gently squeezing her hand, delighted when she returned the gesture in kind before releasing him. This time, when they looked out on the water together, the silence between them was easy, comfortable, and warm - just like old times.

"How did you come to be a counselor?" Jill finally asked.

"It was actually Cid that offered me the job," Clive explained. "He...helps out down at the VA sometimes. We met there." It was another half-truth, but it felt strange to admit that Cid was his group therapy leader. "I actually only found out that he bought the camp from the previous owner when he brought Torgal with him one day. He practically knocked me off my feet when he saw me." He hadn't cared at the time - he was just surprised that the old camp dog still recognized him after all these years, and was even more shocked when he had discovered why he was there with Cid in the first place. He had planned to beg Cid for the chance to come back to the camp when he had found out, even if only for a few hours. His time here was full of some of the happiest moments of his life, before everything had gone awry, and some part of him wanted to reach out and grasp that feeling again, just to hold it in his heart one more time.

Cid had done him one better by offering him a job. He had been in need of one, anyways, since leaving the military, and he suspected that Cid saw something of a kindred spirit in him, something that reminded him of himself that made him want to reach out and lift him out of the pitiful state he was in at the time. Clive would be forever grateful for his compassion.

"We never did a good job teaching Torgal not to jump up on people," Jill said, bringing him out of his thoughts. She was smiling again, which was nice. He liked seeing her smile.

"We did not," he replied. "Cid claims that he taught him better manners when he inherited him so that he wouldn't go bowling the kids over."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Jill replied.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow morning." When the real work began.

"Is this your first summer back?" Jill questioned.

"It is," he responded with some degree of surprise. "How did you know?"

"It's my first, as well," she said. "When Cid told me which cabin group I'd be working with, he said something about this age being both the easiest and the hardest group - that it was the easiest to start out with, but that it would also prepare me for anything that the other age groups might throw at me. Something about how 'they're old enough to have developed independent personalities, but young enough that they'll still listen to you.'"

Clive snorted. "He told me that they're old enough to get into trouble, but young enough that they still think the consequences can't touch them."

"That sounds about right," she chuckled. "I remember what we were like at that age. Do you remember that time we snuck out the first night of camp, when we wanted to be the first to jump into the lake before everyone else got to it? It must have been our last summer here." She turned her eyes away from him and out to the lake as she recalled the memory.

"The one before it," he recalled. "Your counselor woke up and found your bunk empty."

"She had the whole camp in a tizzy," Jill smiled. "When she finally found me, she panicked because she hadn't checked if I could swim yet. She was sure I was going to drown, despite the fact that I was treading water just fine. Besides, you were there with me - you wouldn't have let anything happen to me."

Clive was glad for the darkness hiding the way his face flushed. "As I recall, she didn't know I was there," he said instead. "You insisted that she couldn't find me out there with you and shoved me under the dock."

"I remember. Getting caught sneaking out at night was bad enough - I had a week of dish duty after that. If I had been caught sneaking out with a boy I think she would have hung me by my toes at the camp entrance as an example to all the other girls."

"You would never have lived it down," Clive agreed with a laugh. "I don't think I ever got caught, but in hindsight, I think my counselor knew." He had managed to sneak back into his cabin after the commotion had died down, feeling guilty for leaving Jill to her fate but not wanting to get her in any more trouble. When he had woken in the morning, still wearing his swim trunks and with a damp towel hanging from the end of his bunk, bleary-eyed from worry and lack of sleep, his counselor had given him a strange look as he simply asked if he had slept well. He had also organized for Clive to help Jill with dish duty during her punishment - probably as a punishment of his own for something he couldn't technically prove, but Clive had appreciated the extra time with her, anyways.

"We weren't nearly as clever as we thought we were back then," Jill said with an indulgent smile.

"No, we were not," he responded.

"Do you think our campers will be as bad at lying as we were back then?"

"I certainly hope so," he replied. "It will make it a lot easier to keep them out of trouble."

There was a strange sense of trepidation that filled him at the mention of the campers. He had known when he signed up for this job that he'd be taking care of children - that was kind of the point - but Clive hadn't spent any significant amount of time with kids since he was a child himself. He had a decent idea of how to talk to them, and he didn't think he'd have an issue getting them to listen to and follow him, but whether or not they would like him was another matter entirely.

"I'm a bit nervous about tomorrow," he confessed, and she turned back to look at him, her head tilted slightly.

"Any particular reason why?" she asked.

Clive shuffled his feet awkwardly, trying to figure out how to articulate his fears without sounding foolish. "I'm worried they'll be scared of me," he said softly. He couldn't quite look her in the eye when he spoke the words aloud. "I think they'll find me...imposing, but I don't want them to be frightened." Clive knew he could cut an intimidating figure. He was tall enough to feel like he was looming over many people, with broad shoulders and wide muscles from years of military training. Out in the field, it was an asset, but it would be easy for someone much smaller than Clive to feel daunted by the sight of him. Worst of all was the scar marring half his face, and once again, he reached up to run his fingers along the ugly mark on his cheek.

"You might be right," Jill said slowly, and his chin jerked downwards at her harsh words even though her tone was soft. "It is a little intimidating."

He should have known - of course she found him frightening as well, and he couldn't blame her. She had seen the shocked look in her eyes when she had first seen his face this morning. He appreciated her hiding her apprehension since then, setting him at ease, but he didn't want her to be intimidated by him as well. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to fear from him, that he would never do anything to hurt her, but he knew that would do little to calm the nervousness that the sight of him could cause. Still, the thought that even she was scared of him soured his stomach.

He jumped when he felt her fingers on his chest, not realizing she had stepped closer to touch him. His eyes jerked up to hers, but he quickly looked away, swallowing thickly.

She gently untangled his tags and his camp lanyard again, smoothing it out so the metal tags lay flat beneath the fabric of the lanyard. She ran the ends of her fingers around the wooden badge with his camp nickname painted onto it. "If you were worried about the kids thinking it was scary, why did you pick 'Wolf' as your camp nickname? There are so many fairy tales about villainous wolves. You must have known that some would find it frightening."

Oh. She had been talking about his nickname. "I hadn't considered it," he admitted. Now that he thought about it, he supposed that the thought of a wolf, ferocious and hungry, would be frightening to any small child. "I was actually thinking of Torgal when I came up with the name. It felt...fitting."

"Do you think the kids will find Torgal frightening when they meet him?" she asked. Her eyes were bright in the moonlight as she searched his face.

He had to think about that for a moment. "Maybe at first," he said. "He's a big dog, and he rather looks like a wolf, which I would think could be frightening to a child. But he's gentle, playful - like a big puppy. When they realize that, I think they'll come to love him."

She smiled at him. "I think so, as well - and I think it's going to be like that for you, too." Her words were much appreciated, but Clive struggled to reconcile the image of sweet Torgal frolicking with previously frightened children with himself, who he imagined had the potential to scare the kids throughout the entire camp session and beyond. Honestly, he was pretty sure babies started crying whenever he passed them on the street.

"I have an idea to give you a head start, if you like," Jill suggested.

He was open to any idea to help give him a leg up. "I'm listening."

Jill fished the pen she had been using before out of her pocket and brandished it before him with a flourish. "May I?" she asked. Clive nodded.

With his assent, Jill uncapped the pen once more, and braced her wrist on his chest to write upon his name badge. He could feel the tip of the pen scribbling across the wood of the tag, and hoped she couldn't feel his heart hammering through her hand.

Finally, when she had placed her addition upon the name badge, she withdrew and placed the cap on the pen, slipping it back into her pocket. "There," she said, satisfied as she stepped back. "Much less scary."

He took the name badge between his fingers and held it up, turning his head so he could look at the two extra letters she had added. "Do you really think this will work?" he asked curiously.

"I think it's a start," she replied. She stepped past him to meander along the shoreline, pausing for a moment while she waited for him to step up to her side and join her. "I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"

"I suppose we shall," he responded, and followed obediently along in her wake.

The kids started arriving about an hour after the camp staff had eaten lunch. The morning had been a cacophony of chaos, with everyone working to make sure that the final preparations for the campers were completed. The final decorations were put up around the mess hall and the cabins, and a table was laid out with polo shirts emblazoned with the camp logo with a size for each child, the same one all the camp staff were wearing that day to make them easily identifiable to the campers.

Clive had jumped in as soon as the luggage bays opened, helping to unload six weeks of baggage for the three hundred odd campers that were showing up today, simply piling it up for the kids to sort through and grab what they needed. Not far away, Oscar, the junior counselor that had been assigned to his cabin, held up a sign with their cabin group written upon it, as well as the clipboard with the list of names of their campers. He had been given the chance to meet with him for a bit last night, since they'd slept in the same cabin - the same one they'd be sleeping in with their cabin group for the next six weeks. He seemed eager-to-please and looking to impress him - and, more importantly, had a much friendlier-looking demeanor than Clive did. Even if Clive managed to frighten them all away, at least they'd still have someone they could feel comfortable talking to.

The baggage pile slowly dwindled as the kids grabbed their luggage, and eventually, the last suitcase had been grabbed by a girl no older than eight. She looked up at Clive, her chin ducked low as she approached, and he tried to offer her an approximation of a smile. It didn't seem to set her any more at ease than he thought it would, for she grabbed her bag and quickly scurried back off to her group.

He really hoped that wasn't a bad sign for how the rest of the camp session would go - but Clive wasn't confident, and he was running out of things to do before he had to go introduce himself to his cabin group.

Suddenly, from across the parking lot, he caught sight of Jill, who gave him a small wave to get his attention. She was already surrounded by her group of pre-teen girls, all chattering away with each other. She gave him a thumbs up and mouthed something at him: You've got this!

Right. He could do this.

Oscar was going over some basic ground rules with their cabin when Clive approached the group, his head held high, trying to seem more calm and assured than he truly felt. His conviction was shaken when he saw several of them go moon-eyed, the heads of some of the shorter ones craning back to look up at him as he drew closer. He clung to Jill's words from last night, about them growing more comfortable with him over time, about how the slight change to his camp nickname would help ease the process along, and tried to remember the sense of calm that had washed over him when she was at his side.

"Greetings," he said as he drew to a stop near the huddle the boys had made near Oscar. "I'll be the head counselor for your stay here, so I'll be taking care of you for the next six weeks. You can call me Wolfie."

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

By the time he and the kids sat down for breakfast the next morning, Clive was not confident that he would be able to earn his cabin's adoration by the end of the summer. The previous day felt like it had rushed by, packed full of logistics and explanations as the counselors prepared the kids for the rest of the camp session. All of the cabin groups had rotated through the nurse's office for a health and lice check, the lake for the swim test, and tours of the various camp facilities. Clive had found himself guzzling from his canteen throughout the day to keep his throat from going dry while explaining all the rules and quirks of camp.

Throughout the entire experience, the boys maintained a nearly deathly silence. Every once in a while, they'd glance nervously up at him, or say something to the person next to them, but usually he'd have to prod them into speaking through an icebreaking exercise of some sort. He'd learned through those that most of his group was new to the camp, but they'd done little to even start conversations between each other, which was even worse than if they were simply frightened of him. If they were too scared of him to even talk to each other, it would impact their ability to form friendships with one another, and Clive didn't want to take that away from them. He'd have to make sure he gave them some space on their own or with Oscar or otherwise away from him so they could actually enjoy their camp experience.

Even the breakfast table was awkwardly silent as everyone ate. The table he was presiding over was mostly populated by boys from his own cabin, the majority of them still too nervous to mingle with the other campers and most of the other campers sitting with their own cabin groups, as well. The sole exception was a girl from Jill's cabin, Crow, who had come to sit with her brother at Clive's table.

Thankfully, towards the end of breakfast, a stack of brightly colored papers was set at the end of Clive's table, and he grabbed at them, relieved to have something to cut the tension. "Looks like it's time for the first mail call of camp," he announced to the table, and several heads perked up.

There were no actual letters from home in the stack - their families would have had to have sent their letters days before the camp session had even started for them to arrive by today - but there was an intra-camp mail delivery system, which this stack was entirely comprised of. The campers were encouraged to use it not only for their own letters, but through a compliment gram system that he had gone over with the kids yesterday. Within the cabin and at all of the major buildings, there were buckets of paper in all different neon colors, left blank except for a few printed lines and with the words, "To spread the warm fuzzy feeling..." at the top, where the kids could write something nice about someone else and have it delivered to them. The system was supposed to be anonymous, but he knew some people still signed their names upon them, or would know who wrote it based upon what was written.

Clive had stayed up late last night after he had put the boys to bed, sitting on the steps of his cabin and agonizing over what to write in the low lamplight. The counselors were encouraged to write ones for their kids, especially that first day, just to get the campers started with the system when they realized how nice it was to receive a compliment, and how good it might feel to give one. Clive hadn't wanted to write trite niceties, but had wanted to find something specific to write about every boy in his cabin - easier said than done, when they had known each other for less than a day and they had been mostly quiet throughout. Still, by the end of the night, he had managed to find something to write about for everyone. He had commented on Josselin's kindness when he had volunteered to help Arthur stow his luggage after unpacking, on Tett's sense of humor when a story he had told had drawn the first laugh from the cabin group of the summer.

It seemed to have paid off. He hadn't signed his name, had worried that if they knew it was from him it would mean less to them, but as he passed them out based on the name he had written on the front, he could see them start to smile and ease up a bit. He felt a smile of his own spread across his face as he passed on the last one, happy to see them a bit more relaxed for the first time since the camp session had begun.

To his surprise as he handed them out, there was one extra piece of paper than there had been last night. As he took his seat, he turned it over to see who it was for.

On the front of the neon blue piece of paper was not any of the names of the boys in his cabin, but his own name. There was no dot over the "i", but instead a neat little circle.

He practically ripped it open in his eagerness to read.

I think the scar makes you look dashing - like a knight in a fairy tale. I bet they think the same.

Clive flushed, glancing up from the note to look for Jill. She was only a few tables away, talking to a young girl - not one from her own cabin, but from a younger age group, helping her sound out the letter she had received. She glanced up briefly and caught Clive's eyes, and he looked away quickly - but not before she flashed a smile at him.

He held the little slip of paper in his lap, reading the words over again. He wasn't sure that the boys viewed him as anything close to knightly with how they had been acting, but it was a nice thought, one that he turned over in his head a few times. He hoped that they'd come to see him so - protective, and there to help them no matter what they needed.

And that first part - she thought the scar made him look dashing. Dashing.

"Wolfie, why are you smiling at your breakfast?" Clive's head jerked up when Arthur, one of the boys in his cabin, spoke.

"It's a good breakfast. Why shouldn't I smile at it?" he hedged.

"You're all red, too," Honza helpfully chimed in, and Clive had to physically force himself not to scowl for outing him, knowing that such an expression would only scare them away.

"I got a letter from a friend," he finally admitted as he held up the piece of paper before folding it up and slipping it into his pocket. He didn't want to lose it, already knowing that he'd be lying awake in his bunk tonight reading Jill's words over and over. "It can be a little embarrassing to be complimented, but in a good way. It feels nice."

"It does feel good," Josselin agreed, smiling down at his own little letter. "What does yours say?"

He wasn't ready to share her words - he wanted them to be for him alone, to keep the feelings they stirred in him close to his chest. "It's a secret."

"Awww, I wanted to know what made Wolfie blush," Honza complained.

"I'd rather know who made him blush," Crow said devilishly.

"It's anonymous."

"But you know who it's from anyways, right?"

Clive heaved a sigh, knowing that they weren't going to let this go. Besides, this was the most the campers had spoken since they had arrived yesterday. "If you must know, it's from Starlight."

"From Star?" Crow asked. "She's my counselor. She's so nice."

"She is," he agreed, and brushed his fingers along the piece of folded paper in his pocket just to feel the tingling warmth that it sent radiating through his chest. "Now - who's up for a game of Capture the Flag after breakfast?"

----------------------------------------------

It was the end of free time a few days later when Jill sought him out. The bell had already rung signaling the end of down time, when the kids were free to roam within the camp's boundaries and partake in various activities. It was also a welcome break for the counselors - though many chose to partake with their kids, it was also an opportunity for them to rotate through taking some time off from child-minding. There still needed to be people watching the main thoroughfares of Camp Bennumere, like the mess hall, the lakeside, and the exits and entrances of the camp, but far fewer were needed to keep an eye on the campers, and they took turns each day so the others could rest.

Clive and Oscar were gathering up the boys, preparing to spend a bit of time down at the archery range before dinner. It would be their first session there of the season, and most of the boys were eager to give it a shot.

That was when he spotted Jill power-walking down the pathway. It was not the sight of her that was strange, though she should have been with her cabin group at this point in the day, but Clive's eyes were drawn to her quick footsteps and her clenched fists.

"Can you get them down to the range?" he asked Oscar. "I need to take care of something."

"Everything all right?" Oscar asked.

"I hope so," he replied, and set off at a jog after Jill.

"Jill!" He waited to call her name until he was far enough away from the kids, knowing they were supposed to use their nicknames around the kids but not wanting to call her by anything but her name if he could get away with it.

She whirled around at his voice, and Clive immediately knew something was wrong. She was ghostly pale, and her eyes were wide and distressed.

"What happened? What's going on?"

Her voice was panicked when she spoke. "One of my girls is missing," she whispered.

"What?"

"She was supposed to be back after free time," she said, quiet despite the fact that Oscar was leading his group in the other direction. "None of the girls in my cabin have seen her since well before the bell rang. We all went looking for her, but no one could find her. I don't know where she is - she could be lost, or injured, or worse - " Jill choked on the last word.

It was like something out of one of his worst nightmares - one of his kids disappearing after getting lost, or worse, running away so they wouldn't have to be around him. The forest was pretty safe, the activity of the camp driving away all but the most desperate of wildlife, but that didn't mean there weren't plenty of dangers that could befall a child here, and the thought that he could potentially lose one of his kids had haunted more than one sleepless night.

Watching it happen in reality to Jill was so, so much worse.

Clive rested his hands on Jill's shoulders and tried to keep the worry out of his voice. She needed him to stay calm, to be the one to think with a clear head right now. "It's going to be okay," he tried to assure her, but her head dropped, unable to look him in the eye. "Listen. There's someone watching the camp exits at all times, and a lifeguard on duty during free time at the lakeside. If she had gone that way, they would have stopped her and sent her back. She has to be within the camp somewhere - we just need to find her. I'll help you."

Jill let out a shaky exhale, but her head rose up and she met his eyes once more. She still looked frightened, but her composure was coming back. "You're right," she said, though she still sounded more than a little shaken. "I'm going to go tell Cid. He can raise the alarm with the rest of the staff - the more people looking for her, the better."

"I'll check the last place she was seen. What was her last known location?"

"Aimee said she was playing freeze tag with the other girls in the field near the arts and crafts hall at the beginning of free time, but no one's seen her since sometime near the middle of their game. They thought she had just wandered off to do something else."

Good. That was on the opposite end of camp as the archery range. There was little chance that she could have missed the warning signs and fence that blocked the space behind the range, but kids that age weren't known for their great decision making skills, and he didn't want her to accidentally have gotten hurt by an arrow gone wide.

"I'll start there and work my way towards the camp boundaries," he said to Jill, squeezing her shoulders lightly before releasing her. "After you talk to Cid, go check your cabin again. Maybe she wandered back there."

"All right," Jill agreed.

"And Jill," Clive stopped her before she could head back to the mess hall. "We're going to find her," he promised, his gaze steady.

She didn't smile, but some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. "Thank you, Clive," she said with a nod before heading back to the other side of camp, her steps quick and purposeful.

Clive only hesitated long enough for her to leave his line of sight before setting off at a jog towards the arts and crafts hall. He paused and checked in with Blackthorne, where he was supervising a group of younger boys in making little animals out of twine and beads, to check to see if he had seen a girl from Jill's cabin, but the arts and crafts director only shook his head and confirmed that he hadn't seen her.

There were a number of forested paths near that part of camp, so Clive resolved to check there next. The camp was self-contained within a wall, but it was a large camp spanning several acres, and it would be easy for a young child to get lost even when they stuck to the pathway. If you weren't paying attention and weren't looking at the maps posted at almost every intersection of the paths, it wouldn't be difficult to wander in circles for some time.

And that was to say nothing of the areas off the beaten path. The campers were taught to stay on the roads, but many of the older kids would wander off the path to see what adventures the forest had to offer. He and Jill had done it more than once - that was how they had found their usual place.

It seemed that was exactly what had happened, judging by the trampled stalks of grass off the road as he meandered towards the eastern boundary of the camp. This was likely the site of the game of tag that Aimee had mentioned to Jill - the last known place the lost girl had been seen.

There weren't any conspicuous deer trails (or child trails, in this particular case) leading away from there, but Clive circled the area just in case, trying to get into the mindset of a teenage girl. If he were Jill's lost camper, where would he have gone?

The answer came to his mind immediately - he would have wanted to explore. He didn't know how many years the girl had been at camp, but new or returning camper, all kids arrived at the Mere with the taste of adventure on their tongues. They were away from their families, some for the first time, in the deep woods. Even if the whole place was carefully curated with the children's safety in mind, there was something about the towering pines and the sounds of birds calling through the branches that created a sense of mystery that was hard for any child to ignore. By instinct, Clive turned towards the usual spot, his feet carrying him swiftly through the thick trunks of the woods and across the dry creek bed.

His hopes were dashed when he arrived in the small clearing, for there was no small child exploring the nooks and crannies of his old hiding place. There weren't even any tell-tale signs that one had been here - no flattened grass or broken branches to be found.

Disappointed, he turned back towards the main part of the camp, and wracked his brain for where else Jill's camper could be. Had she gotten hungry during free time and gone to the mess hall to find a snack? Or did she have a sibling in another cabin that she had gone to visit, and had simply not reported back to Jill? If that was the case, then one of the camp staff would tell Cid when he gathered the other counselors to look for her, and Clive would likely find out when he returned. Still, he wracked his brain as he left the clearing, slowly making his way back to camp. If she wasn't with one of the other groups, that would mean she was still lost out here somewhere, and though the forest was an exciting place for a young child, it could look all the more frightening when they couldn't find their way out.

No, better to stay out here and keep looking. He hated the possibility of one of the campers out here, lost and afraid, while he traipsed back to Cid for more bad news.

When it came time to cross the dry creek bed, Clive was so lost in his thoughts that he misjudged the jump, small thought it was. The tip of his right shoe just barely caught the edge, but the soil along the rim was loose from the water that ran through every autumn, and pebbles scattered as it gave way. He caught himself on his forearms, and it was only quick thinking that kept him from biting his tongue as his chin hit the ground.

"f*ck," he grit out under his breath. The dry creek bed wasn't particularly deep, more a shallow indent on the ground easy to mistake for a large trail if it wasn't for all the smooth, rounded stones at the bottom, so it was a simple thing to swing his legs back onto the same level ground as his torso, but it still hurt. He was just glad no one had been around to see him trip.

Clive took a moment to take stock of his injuries while sitting on the ground, though thankfully it hadn't been a bad fall. There was a layer of skin that had been scraped off the meat of his palms, though thankfully he hadn't broken through the flesh. There was a telling throbbing where he had struck his chin, though a quick swipe of fingers confirmed that there was no bleeding. He'd likely have a rather strange looking bruise come morning, but he could always cover it by skipping shaving for a bit - he had only planned to do so once every few days while here, anyways. He rotated both ankles, and was relieved to feel there was only the slightest twinge where he had rolled on his right one, which would dissipate as he walked it off. All in all, it had been a clean fall, with little more to show for it than a few bruises and some dirt on his Henley.

Clive stood to dust himself off - and then stopped, realizing that something was missing. He froze, having long since learned to trust his instincts, and took stock of the forest around him.

It only took a moment for him to recognize what it was - the forest was quiet. Normally, he'd be able to hear animals skittering through the undergrowth, birds singing in the trees, and though he would have expected them to disappear after his less-than-silent fall, there was something else that he had been hearing, so quiet and subtle that he hadn't even consciously recognized it until it had disappeared. Clive stood perfectly still, holding his breath and straining his ears as he waited for it again.

After a moment, he heard the tiniest, quietest sniffle.

"Hello?" he called out into the forest, his head turning towards the origin of the sound, somewhere to his left. There was silence, and then another shaky little exhale.

Clive followed the sound of sniveling, intentionally shuffling his feet a bit so they wouldn't be surprised by his approach. "I'm Wolfie," he spoke to the air. "Are you lost?"

They didn't respond, but it didn't matter at that point, for he had spotted who he was looking for. Some of the trees in this forest were ancient, had withstood a century or more of wildfires and floods and still stood proud, though not without their own scars. The space beneath the roots of one gnarled redwood had been hollowed out, the rains washing out much of the dirt between them, leaving a hollow underneath the tree. Clive dropped to one knee before the small cavern and ducked his head to peer inside. Within was a young girl sitting with her knees drawn up, her arms crossed atop them and her dark head of hair buried in them. Her jeans were cuffed and dusty, with a small butterfly embroidered near the hem.

A wave of relief washed over Clive when he recognized her as one of the girls in Jill's group. This must be her missing camper - and thankfully, she didn't appear to be hurt from what he could see.

"Hey there," he greeted, keeping his tone soft, overly cognizant of his intimidating face. He didn't want her to think that he was mad at her or that she was in trouble when it was more important that she was safe and uninjured.

"Go away," she muttered into her arms. "I'm not lost."

"You're rather far from the main trails, and the bell calling you back from free time rang over an hour ago," he pointed out. "I know you didn't miss it. I don't know if you noticed, but it's loud." It may have been a physical bell, but it was impossible not to notice the way it blared across camp. Otto had to wear headphones whenever he rang it, and even hearing it from the bottom of the hill made Clive's teeth feel like they were going to rattle out of his skull.

The girl didn't respond to his poor attempt at humor, and only sniffled again wetly.

"Can I join you?" Clive asked, but she only shook her head, not even lifting her head from her arms. That may have been for the best - he probably could have fit beneath the roots of the tree with her, but he had much wider shoulders and a broader form than she did. It would have been a tight squeeze, and though they probably both would have fit, he wouldn't have enjoyed the ache in his back or the crick in his neck that would have found him the next morning. Instead, he moved to sit with his back against the web of roots next to the entrance to the hollow, giving her plenty of room to crawl out and join him when she was ready. "I'm just going to sit out here, if that's alright with you."

"I guess I can't stop you," she grumbled.

She was still sniffling, and Clive tilted his head back against the trunk of the tree. "What's your name?"

"Kihel," she replied.

"Kihel," he repeated. "Starlight's been worried about you." When that didn't prompt a response, he continued on, "I'm sure she'd like to know what upset you. I'd like to know, too, if you're willing to share."

"Why do you care?"

"Because summer camp is supposed to be fun," he replied, "and if you're not having fun, I'd like you to tell me so we can try to make it better."

"You can't do anything to make it better," she responded. "Just go away and leave me alone."

"You'd be surprised," he said. "I used to come here all the time when I was a kid, so I know plenty of fun secrets about this place, but I can't help you unless I know what's happening."

There was a beat of silence, and then Kihel mumbled something into her knees. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I said no one wants me," she said, choking on another sob.

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Because it's true," she sniffled. "The other girls - we were playing tag, and I tripped and fell, and they didn't even notice. They just kept running away and laughing."

Clive could see how that would be painful for a small child, the memory of another set of girls' laughter ringing in his ears. He wanted to tell her that she was just imagining it, that the other girls were simply distracted by their game and hadn't been paying attention, but Kihel kept going.

"I thought things would be different when my dads took me home," she told him, now truly sobbing. "They made such a big deal about how much they wanted me and how they loved me already even though we had just met, but why would they do that if they were just going to send me away again?" Clive was frozen to his spot on the ground, unable to move even as he listened to her cry. As her weeping grew quieter, he heard her whisper, nearly inaudible, "There must be something wrong with me. If I was better, maybe then they’d keep me and I’d be loveable."

It was a sentiment that struck him to the core like a knife in his belly. He remembered that feeling intimately - the feeling of worthlessness brought on by his mother's neglect, the overarching knowledge that he had done something to upset her even when he had done nothing at all. He had struggled under its weight for years, and it was only more recently that he had begun to confront what she had done to him and how it had affected him.

He still wasn't sure how to handle it himself - but he knew that he wished someone had told him that it wasn't his fault when he was her age.

"Listen to me," he said firmly, and turned his head so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "There is nothing wrong with you, I promise."

She laughed wetly. "You can't say that. You don't even know me."

"Not very well," he admitted. "But I'd miss you if you weren't here all the same. Starlight would miss you too, and all the other girls in your cabin, too."

"If that was true, they wouldn't have left me behind when I fell."

"From what Starlight said, they went looking for you when you didn't show up after your game. They were worried."

Her head lifted just slightly, and there was the faintest hint of doubt on her face. "If that were true, then they would have noticed when I tripped," she said, but she didn't look so certain anymore.

"It's easy for people to get caught up in their own worlds," he responded. "They're so focused on themselves they forget about everything else."

"So they forgot about me," she said miserably.

"No, that's not what I - " Clive cut himself off. "All I'm saying is that I know how hard it is to feel like you've been left behind. To feel like something's wrong with you."

There was another long silence, this time only interrupted by her sniffling. Then, he heard her shuffling through the leaves as she crawled out from beneath the tree on her hands and knees. He tried not to move as she came to sit beside him, worried he'd scare her off again.

Instead of fleeing, she leaned against him, her head resting against his shoulder as she sniffled. "This sucks."

"It does," he agreed, and placed his hand between her shoulder blades to rub soothing circles on her back.

"I'm sorry that you feel like this, too," she said.

Clive wasn't sure what to say. I'm sorry, too wasn't quite right, since he had done a lot of healing since the days when that particular hurt threatened to overwhelm him, and It's okay wasn't it, either, since there was little that would make that feeling alright. "Thank you," he ended up saying. "You're very empathetic, you know that, right?" When she didn't respond, he continued on, "I bet the other kids think so, too - your family, as well."

Kihel just shook her head against his shoulder. "Don't believe me?" he asked, and she nodded. "It took me a long time to believe it when people complimented me, too. But I can tell you from experience - the feeling that something is wrong with you? The feeling is honest, but it's not true. It's hard not to listen when it speaks over everything else, but if you start to look, you'll see that there are so many people who care about you. The other kids, Starlight - I don't know your dads, but I'm willing to bet that they love you, too. Most parents don't send their kids off to summer camp to have the time of their life if they don't."

She gave a shaky sigh, but thankfully, her tears seemed to have dried. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Just because it was that way for you doesn't mean it's true for me."

"I can prove it to you," he said, and removed his hand from her shoulders to stand up. He dusted off the back of his trousers before extending his hand back to her. "Will you come back to camp with me?"

Kihel looked up at his extended hand for a moment, expressionless, but eventually exhaled and took his hand as he helped her to her feet. "I guess," she said, not sounding entirely sure. To his surprise, she didn't release it after she stood, instead squeezing it in her own fingers. He allowed it as he meandered them back towards camp, knowing she needed the comfort. They walked in silence through the trees, the quiet only broken by the shuffling of their feet through the undergrowth.

"Wolfie," she finally said, and he looked down to see her staring up at him. No, not at him - at the mark stretching across his face. "Where'd you get your scar?" she asked.

He was almost relieved by the question. He wasn't fond of the concealed stares he received from both children and adults when they saw his face, and some part of him just wished they'd comment on it and then leave him in peace. Thank the Founder for the bluntness of children - but there was no way in hell he was going to tell her the real story of the scar.

Improvisation wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d give it a try for her. "I got it while rescuing a princess.”

"A princess?" Her eyes were enormous.

"Yes," he told her. "She was locked in a tower by a horrible monster."

"Was it big? Scary?"

"Terrifying, with lots of sharp teeth."

"Wow," she breathed. "I can't believe you beat a monster like that."

"Oh, I didn't beat it," he said. "The princess did."

Kihel furrowed her eyebrows. "Was she the type of princess that had a sword?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the type of monster that could be beaten with a blade." Kihel tilted her head curiously as he spun his tale. "You see, the monster kept the princess trapped in the tower, secluded away from all the people that loved her. She was so lonely, locked away from the rest of the world, that she started to believe that there was no one who loved her. So she started to feed the monster. She gave it her grief, her fear, her anxiety, her loneliness. Just a little bit, every day - but every time she fed it, the monster grew bigger, stronger. It started to whisper lies to her, about how because no one had come to rescue her, that no one actually wanted her around, that they were actually happy that she was gone."

"Then when did you show up?" she asked. Her eyes were watering again, but she was still engrossed in the story.

"On the day the princess was at her lowest, I scaled the tower," he told her. "I snuck past the beast to visit her, and I brought news from her family - letters from her parents and friends and siblings and all the other people who loved her, telling her how much they missed her and wanted her back and wished she would come down from her tower. The princess has forgotten about all of their kindness and care, but seeing those words gave her the strength to finally leave her room. At the bottom of the tower, the beast blocked her path. The princess was frightened, but with her letters in hand, she stood her ground, and told the monster that it had no power over her. The monster cowered in front of her bravery, and every time she said that it couldn't control her anymore, it shrunk and grew weaker, until it was as small and harmless as a newborn kitten. With that, she found the strength to exit the tower, and we went back to her family, hand in hand."

They had finally made it back to the main path, but Kihel stopped at the top of the rise, looking down at the camp spread out below them as she contemplated the story. He squeezed her hand in his, and she looked back up at him. "What happened to the monster?"

"The monster never truly disappeared," he said, not unkindly, "but she refused to let it control her again and keep her away from the world. Sometimes, it would try to whisper lies to her again, but she would push it away, because she could recognize them for falsehoods, now. The monster would never grow big enough to control her again, as long as she remembered...?"

"Not to feed it," Kihel finished. She seemed more settled now, her eyes still red-rimmed but now dry.

Then, her brow furrowed. "There's one thing that I don't understand," she said slowly. "If you got the scar rescuing a princess, but you didn't fight the monster, then where did it come from?"

"Oh, that. I tripped after dropping her off with her family and fell face-first into the edge of a table."

Kihel snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth even as her giggles threatened to escape. "You can laugh," he said, cracking a smile. "It hurt at the time, but it's funny in hindsight."

"I won't tell anyone," she replied. "I'll tell everyone you got it punching a bear."

"Now that's a much more exciting story. Why didn't I think of that?" They were still standing at the top of the rise, and despite her improved mood, Kihel seemed reluctant to move, even when he took a hesitant half-step forward. "Do you want to ride on my back?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed. "I think I'm too old for chocobo-back rides."

"Maybe, but now that I'm older I wish I had taken more chocobo-back rides when I was small enough to do so."

Kihel thought about it for a moment, but then she nodded. Clive stooped down to her level and turned his back for her to climb aboard. His hands hooked beneath her knees and her arms locked around his neck. When he rose back to his feet, she squealed in delight, her arms tightening just slightly as she kept her balance from her perch across his back.

"Wow," she breathed. "You're really tall. You see like this all the time?"

"I do." It didn't seem all that exciting to him, but he supposed to someone much shorter than he that it would be like seeing the world from a whole new angle - literally. "Ready to go?"

"Yup," she responded, and just to sell the game, he gave a soft "kweh!", prompting another giggle from her, before trotting off down the road.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Jill was waiting near the mess hall as Clive came walking down the path with Kihel on his back, a gaggle of pre-teens near her. Oscar and the boys from Clive's own cabin were also there, milling about with the girls. They had probably been called away from the archery range when the news of a lost child began to spread - better not to have projectiles flying through the air when a lost camper could be behind any corner. Even if they were blunted, being hit by an arrow would hurt.

When Jill spotted them coming down the lane towards her, one hand flew to the railing beside her, the other to her heart as she breathed a sigh of relief before walking towards them.

Clive kneeled, and Kihel slowly climbed down from his back. There was a guilty look on her face. "Starlight, I'm sorry that - "

Jill dropped down to her knees before Kihel could finish and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm so glad you're safe," she breathed. "I was so worried about you."

Kihel didn't move, her arms hanging by her sides. She was staring over Jill's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Don't be sorry," Jill said, pulling back and placing her hands on her shoulders. "Just don't do it again, all right?"

"Okay," Kihel agreed solemnly. Her eyes dropped down to her shoes, probably still feeling guilty for making her counselor worry, but Clive noticed that it also kept her from looking into the eyes of the other girls.

But when Jill withdrew, she wasn't the only one who was eager to greet Kihel after her unexpected adventure. Almost as soon as Jill stood up, two of the girls in her cabin nearly tackled Kihel to the ground. "We missed you," one of them said as she buried her face in her shoulder.

Kihel stood perfectly still for a moment, shell-shocked, before she managed to raise her arms to wrap one around each girl. Her eyes welled up with tears. "I missed you too," she choked out, and Clive looked away so she wouldn't see him smiling.

"Let's get you down to the infirmary," Jill said once the two girls had released her. "We better make sure you weren't injured while you were out, hm?"

"Yeah," Kihel said, wiping her tears away. Then, to Clive’s great surprise, she reached out and took his hand again. "Can Wolfie come with us?"

Jill glanced up at him. "I think Wolfie has to go back to his cabin now."

Kihel's face fell, and Clive immediately felt bad for her. "Hey, Shepherd," he called, and Oscar’s head perked up at the sound of his camp nickname. "Can you take the campers for a little longer? Jill's, too?"

“Yeah, I’ve got them,” Oscar nodded.

"Aw, I wanted to ask Wolfie for a chocobo-back ride, too," Honza complained, and a chorus of agreement went up from the other kids from both cabins.

Clive's eyebrows slowly rose. "Do you...want me to give you a chocobo-back ride?"

"Yeah!" Arthur interjected. "You look like you give the best chocobo-back rides."

He glanced down at the girl next to him. "Sorry, but Kihel has sole rights to chocobo-back rides for the rest of the day - but starting tomorrow, I'm all yours."

There was a cheer that went up from the kids before they eventually filed down the lane with Oscar, who did his best to herd his now extra large cabin group into some semblance of order.

"Shall we head down to the infirmary?" Jill suggested, and Kihel nodded, obediently following along after her.

Tarja was just as relieved as they were to see that the missing girl had been found, and promptly sent Rodrigue, her assistant, to find Cid and call off the hunt. Then, she patted the bunk, and Kihel obediently hopped up and sat still so she could examine her. Thankfully, she was mostly unhurt. Her forearms were bruised from the fall, and there was a small scrape on her left shin, but otherwise, she was physically unharmed from her unexpected excursion. Kihel seemed uncomfortable with all the attention from the camp nurse, but sat quietly as Tarja fussed over her.

As Tarja started dabbing antiseptic on the cut on Kihel's leg, Clive realized that Jill had disappeared. He turned over his shoulder, thinking she might have just sat down on one of the other beds in the infirmary, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll be right back," he excused himself, and Tarja waved him away as he headed outside.

Jill was sitting on the stairs leading up to the infirmary, her shoulders slumped.

"Jill?" he called to her. She looked up, briefly turning to look at him, before turning back to bury her head in her hands.

He sat down on the stairs next to her. "I'm happy you found Kihel," she said, and despite her despondent posture, her voice was steady. "Where did she turn up?"

"Out in the forest, near our old meeting spot," he said. He told her about the conversation he had with her, about feeling unwanted and lonely, abandoned by both her family and the other girls in the cabin. "I'm glad the other girls were excited to see her when she came back,” he told her after he had finished. “I think it helped to prove to her that they do actually care about her."

"I'm glad," Jill said. Somewhere in the middle of his explanation, she had lifted her head up, staring down the dirt pathway. but there was a strange, empty look in her eyes. "I'm glad you were able to find her, and that you were able to make her feel better."

She didn't sound very glad. "Jill, are you well?"

"I - yes." She paused for a moment, then dropped her head back into her hands. "No."

He set his hand upon her shoulder, squeezing it gently. He didn't know what was troubling her, but he could see that whatever it was upset her greatly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She seemed to consider it for a moment before deciding to confide in him. "It's just...I should have known."

"How could you have?"

Jill shook her head. "I could see her withdrawing from the other girls ever since she arrived. I recognized that look on her face, but I hadn't thought anything of it. If I had intervened a little earlier, then she wouldn't have run away. I wouldn't have lost her. And she never would have felt like she had been left behind." He almost didn't hear her from behind her hands when she mumbled, "I should have known I wasn't cut out for this, I always ruin everything. I'm such a failure."

"That's not true," he said firmly, gripping her shoulder just a little tighter. "Jill, listen to me. The girls love you. The boys in my cabin, too. This isn't your fault."

"It is," she insisted, her head rising from her hands as she turned to look at him. Her eyes were dry, but her expression was miserable. "This is my fault. I should have known something was wrong, should have nipped it in the bud. Instead, there's a young girl in that infirmary right now who thinks that no one loves her. Clive, I lost a child. How can I be cut out for this line of work?"

"I sure hope you're not out here feeling sorry for yourselves." Cid had finally found them, coming up the road to the infirmary with Rodrigue in tow. The nurse’s assistant gave the two of them a wave as he passed by them to return to the infirmary, while Cid came to a halt in front of them.

"I hear we found the kid?" he asked. Jill averted her eyes at his question.

"We did," Clive confirmed, answering when Jill did not. "Tarja says she has a couple of scrapes but is otherwise healthy."

"Physically, at least," Jill muttered.

"Good," Cid said. "If she's well, then why the long face, Star?"

"Even if she is well, I know I failed today. It's due to my negligence that she went missing. She was stressed and struggling to fit in at camp, and eventually ran because I did nothing to help." Jill finally stood from her seat, and Clive's hand slipped from her shoulder. She squared her jaw, looking Cid right in the eye. "I'm prepared to accept whatever punishment you see fit. If you'd like me to pack my bags, I can be gone before dinnertime."

Cid observed her with a critical eye, and Clive's breath hitched, suddenly worried that Cid would fire her. He wanted to plead for her, to beg for her job back, to tell him that Jill was so wonderful with her kids and his own and every other camper he had seen her interact with since she came here. She had inspired in him a confidence in handling the kids just by watching her - and her guidance was finally bearing fruit, judging by the kids' reaction to him today.

There was a pregnant pause, but then Cid barked out a laugh and clapped Jill on the shoulder. Clive exhaled when he saw the mirth in his eyes. "You think you're the first person to lose a kid at camp?" he asked. "Sure, you may be the first one to lose one of your campers this year, but it's an occupational hazard. I won't say it's ever good to lose one of the kids, but once you knew she was missing, you followed protocol and brought her back quickly - and, more importantly, safely. Kids can behave in unexpected ways, but you adapted well in the end and no harm was done. Just don't let it happen again, aye?"

"But...I failed her," Jill said, face downcast. "She's lonely. She doesn't feel like she fits in with the kids here, and she feels like she's been abandoned by her parents. If I had addressed it earlier, this wouldn't have happened in the first place."

"Aye, perhaps," Cid said, still chuckling. However, all the mirth went out of him after that, and his eyes turned analytical as he took her in. "But that's all in the past at this point. What are you going to do about it now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said she's lonely. How are you going to fix it? If you don't, this will just happen again."

Jill's brow furrowed, and she thought long and hard about Cid's words. "She felt like she was left behind by the other campers, but several of them expressed how much they missed her when they returned. I think that will help to assuage that concern. But I think the deeper problem is with her family. She mentioned that she was adopted not too long ago, and Clive said she was feeling like they abandoned her here."

Realization dawned over Jill's face as the idea came to her. "I know what to do," she said, sounding more confident than she had since this morning.

Cid grinned. "Well?" he prompted. "Hop to it."

When Tarja finished treating her, Jill brought Kihel, Cid, and Clive down to the camp office. The dinner bell would ring soon, summoning all the campers and counselors to the mess hall to eat the last meal of the day before the evening campfire, but Jill promised it was important and wouldn't take long.

The office for the camp was near the gates, a small building that housed the administrative side of the camp, including offices for Cid and Otto and a reception desk. It was also one of the few places in camp with working wi-fi and a functional telephone, though it was an older one with a spiral wire connecting it to the receiver, which was hung on the wall. The campers had little reason to go to the office, and even the counselors rarely entered the building unless they needed to see Cid, which was why Desiree, the camp receptionist, looked so surprised to see them.

"Ji - Starlight," she corrected herself once she saw the girl they had brought with them. With so few campers coming through the office, formalities generally lapsed as soon as they entered the building, with most of the staff simply calling each other by their given names rather than their camp nicknames. "And Wolfie and Sparks, too. What brings you by?"

"I'm actually hoping you could tell us about the phone calls we've been getting. The ones you've had me take every evening?" Jill prompted.

"Ooohh, those," Desiree replied. "We've had some young girl's father call every day to check in on her. Said he didn't want to disrupt her fun, but he was worried and just wanted to make sure she was still happy and enjoying herself. I don't know if I've said so, but it's so sweet of you to take his calls and keep him updated every day, Star. You know, you can always tell him he can't call at dinnertime; I know you're probably hungry right around that time. What was his daughter's name, again?"

"Kihel," Jill stated, and Kihel's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Told you so," Clive whispered as he gently nudged her.

"He's due to call right about now, correct?" Jill asked. "Any way we could call him instead?"

"Of course," Desiree agreed, and flipped open the binder of emergency contacts. The page that she stopped on was moderately bent after being flipped to so many times in the past few days, but the information was still clear as she dialed the number and handed the phone over to Jill.

She was silent for a few moments until the person on the other side answered. "Dion? This is Jill from Camp Bennumere." He couldn't make out the specifics of what was being said on the other side, but Clive could hear the worried tone even if he couldn't understand the words. "No, everything's fine. I just wanted to call and give you the evening update on how Kihel is doing. She's doing well, but she's feeling a little homesick. I wondered if you might like to speak to her - maybe let her know why you decided to sign her up for camp?"

Clive went very still at her words and glanced over at Cid. Technically, they wanted to avoid the kids contacting their parents outside of letters unless it was an emergency. A phone call to the family of a homesick kid sounded great in theory, but oftentimes could make the longing to go back home all the stronger.

Cid's face was unreadable, but he made no move to stop Jill as she handed the phone down to Kihel. "Hi, Dad," Kihel breathed into the speaker. "I'm okay. I just really miss you and Papa, but...Starlight's been really nice to me, and Wolfie too."

"Let's give them some privacy," Cid said to Clive, and he let him guide him out of the office.

"Do you think they'll be all right?" Clive asked as they stepped out of the office and descended the stairs.

"Sounds like Jill's got some of her confidence back," Cid replied. "She'll be just fine."

It was some time before Jill returned, and during that time, the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over the camp and a reflective sheen over the water in the distance. He and Cid looked out over it in silence as the chill of the evening began to settle in, sending gooseflesh racing up Clive’s arms. He crossed them over his chest in an effort to keep warm, and did his best not to worry about Jill. Unlike earlier, when she was fretting over how she ruined everything, she had seemed perfectly confident when she walked into the office with Kihel in tow. He hoped that confidence persisted, but still had to fight the urge to go back into the building to offer her reassurances. This was her battle to fight, hers to win, and he didn’t want to step on her toes as she did it.

It was shortly after the bell rang to call the kids and campers to dinner that Jill finally emerged from the office. Thankfully, she still looked calm and assured, though there was a hint of exhaustion in her gaze, too. When her eyes met Cid’s, she hesitated, the slightest bit of trepidation entering her steps before she squared her shoulders and joined them.

"It's going well, then?" Clive asked.

"I think so," Jill replied, coming down the stairs to stand on level ground with them. "They're speaking now. I think Dion is assuring her that they didn't send her away - they've been missing her just as much as she's missed them. It sounds like it's a productive conversation."

Clive sagged with relief. He knew all too well the feeling of being rejected by one's parent, and he had secretly feared that the situation with Kihel would be much the same, though he hadn't wanted to feed into the girl's fears. He was glad to hear that it didn't appear to be the case - that her fathers cared for her, missed her. It would have made him a little jealous when he was young, but now, all he could feel was a sense of calm wash over him, knowing that she was well taken care of.

"We've worked out a system to help Kihel adjust - and them too, I hope," she continued on. "They're going to send emails through Desiree to check in with her so she can get them a little faster, and she can send her letters back through the post, just like the other kids. I'm also going to try to send photo updates back to them, so they don't feel the need to call every day."

Jill seemed to gather her courage and turned to face Cid head-on, with a familiar set to her jaw as she dug into her principles. "I know that we discourage the campers from calling their parents while they’re here, and that I went against that when I called her father for her. However, considering the special circ*mstances, I stand by my decision. I believe that this is the right choice to help Kihel adjust."

Cid gave her a long, hard look before he shrugged. "You won't hear me complaining," he told her. "Sure, we may not want the campers to be calling their parents every night, but it sounds like you examined the situation and made the best possible decision for the child. That's all I want for each of them."

That was when Kihel emerged from the office, and all three of them turned to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed again, but she was smiling, and she looked more settled than Clive had seen her all day.

"All done?" Jill asked, and Kihel nodded. "Why don't you head over to the mess?" she suggested. "The other girls will be waiting for you. I'm just going to finish up with Wolfie and Sparks and then I'll join you."

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll see you there." Kihel made to head down the lane towards the cafeteria, but then, she stopped. She looked back over her shoulder at the group of three standing by the office.

Then, she rushed in and wrapped her arms around Jill's waist, and Jill startled at the sudden contact, rocking back on her heels before she found her footing again. "Thanks, Starlight," Kihel whispered. Clive could just barely hear her murmur the words into the fabric of her blouse, and he turned his head away so that neither of them would see him smile. After a moment, Jill folded over to return the embrace, squeezing her lightly before Kihel released her.

Clive was ready when she turned to him, dropping down to one knee so she could hug him, too. "Thanks, Wolfie," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"No problem, kiddo," he replied, squeezing her back. "Listen - if you ever feel lonely, just come find me or Star. We'll help you out."

"I will," she agreed as she released him, before turning and heading down the lane back towards the mess hall, merely waving at Cid as she went, who spread his arms out in a shrug at the perceived snub.

Then, he turned back to Clive and Jill, grinning at them once more. "And you two were all worried that you wouldn't do well here," he said to them. "I think you both are going to do just fine."

"If you say so," Clive replied.

"You were the one who found her in the first place," Jill pointed out.

"Maybe," he agreed, "But I only brought her back. You were the one who came up with the plan to help her settle in."

"You opened the door, though. Don't sell yourself short."

Cid gave a conspicuous cough, and both turned to face him. "If you're done complimenting each other," he said, "Dinner isn't going to wait for us. Shall we?"

"Fine," Clive agreed, and turned to follow Cid down the road to the cafeteria.

But before he could take more than a couple of steps, Jill caught his hand in her own and squeezed it. "I told you that you'd do well as a counselor," she said, smiling warmly up at him. "I never had any doubts."

"Thank you," he replied. "For encouraging me. And for everything else." Even as his heart stuttered in his chest at the contact, he recalled the defeated look on her face when they had been sitting outside the infirmary, how harsh her words had been as she berated herself for not picking up on Kihel's troubles.

He squeezed her hand in return, wanting to offer her the same comfort that she had given him. "And...don't sell yourself short, either," he said softly. "You're not a failure. You don’t ruin everything. Not this. Not anything. Don't let yourself believe it."

It was the wrong thing to say. There was a flash of agony in her eyes, something deep and hurt, before she regained herself, her expression closing itself off once more into something far more aloof. She gently withdrew her hand, but she might as well have ripped it away with the way it left him feeling frozen inside and out, like being dunked into ice water. "You don't know anything about me," she said coolly.

He wanted to pull her back, to repeat whatever assurances he could to make her come back to him, but Jill had already withdrawn, both physically and emotionally, her hands tucked into her pockets where he couldn't reach for them. "I'll see you at dinner," she said over her shoulder as she turned, her tone stilted and composed, and she followed Cid down the dirt road, leaving Clive behind to wonder just what he had done wrong.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

The morning marking the end of the first week of camp dawned cold and dreary, with a layer of fog settling deep into the valley and a chill seeping up through the floorboards of the cabin. Clive's alarm had been set earlier than usual that morning on purpose, to just before sunrise, but when the clock started blaring from its spot on the ground next to his bed, he seriously considered muting it and burying his head under his pillow to get another hour of sleep.

Instead, he hit the "off" button with a little more force than usual, groaning as he swung his legs over the mattress to plant his feet on the ground and set his head in his hands as he tried to wake himself up.

Oscar turned over in his own bunk to look at him with bleary eyes. "You volunteered for this," he mumbled as a reminder, before turning over to go back to sleep. "Have fun freezing your ass off out there."

"Thanks," Clive grumbled, not feeling at all grateful, but he stood from his bunk to go wake the boys on the other side of the wall, anyways.

That morning was the first polar bear swim of the camp session, where the kids and some of the counselors would dive into Lake Bennumere before the sun rose when the lake was at its coldest and swim to a nearby island and back. Though no camper or counselor was required to make the swim, it was something of a right of passage for many of the kids, to prove that they could withstand the freezing waters. The first swim of the session was usually the most well-attended, if it was anything like it had been when he went to camp, and interest in it would die off as camp wore on and getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to plunge into freezing water lost its novelty. The last swim of the session usually saw a bump in interest, but the first polar bear swim was always something special.

Clive would have liked to say he had been forced into this, cajoled by the kids or pressured by Cid into joining in on the swim for its so-called "health benefits", but Clive had signed up of his own volition. Like many kids, the boys in his cabin had been eager to get up early and prove themselves when they had been asked about it the previous afternoon, and it seemed only fitting that Clive volunteer to swim with them to help encourage them. Still, interest in chaperoning the first swim had been high among the counselors, and Clive had debated staying on the shore and simply enjoying watching the kids struggle through the ice-cold water with a hot drink in his hand as he cheered them on from the beach.

And then Jill had been the first among the counselors to raise her hand to volunteer to get in the water with the kids, which meant that of course Clive had been the second to enlist. Since the day Kihel had been lost and found, they had spent woefully little time together - their duties had simply kept them apart. They both had kids they were supposed to mind during the day, camp activities to supervise, and a multitude of other tasks to keep them busy. The one day that week that their cabins were actually scheduled to do an activity together had turned out to be Jill's day off, and Clive had to content himself with Dorys' company instead as she minded Jill's girls. He couldn’t do more than glance over at her during mealtimes, as each counselor presided over their own table of kids to make sure everyone behaved themselves.

He had wanted to reach out to her after the difficulties that day at camp, wanted to assure her again that she hadn't done anything wrong and that she was a wonderful counselor, but circ*mstances had deemed it that they should stay apart for the time being. He considered writing to her through the camp mail system, returning the compliment she had given him, but given the cold way she had pushed him away the last time he had tried to say something nice to her, he wasn't sure how to begin. Perhaps with an apology, but he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be apologizing for in the first place. He had spent more than one evening bent over a piece of paper, blank except for the Dear Jill at the top as he agonized over what to say. So far, the words hadn't come.

But the polar bear swim was his chance to reconnect with her. He wasn't under any illusions about them having any time alone together, nor any significant amount of time to talk, but it was still time spent in her presence, which would be more than enough for him. Even better, it was the chance to smooth things over without accidentally stumbling into a topic that might upset her again. He'd have something to write to her about in his currently untouched letter, and they could return to their old ways, passing notes back and forth all summer. Just like when they were kids.

Now that it was early on the morning of the swim, the boys were significantly less enthused about waking up before sunrise to swim in a freezing lake. There was more than a little grumbling as he woke up each camper that had said they wanted to join in the afternoon before, but though Clive pointed out that they were free to go back to bed and skip the swim, most eventually stumbled their way out of their bunks after a requisite amount of whining to dig through their bags for their swim trunks.

The lake was mystical in the early morning light, mist rising from the surface and obscuring the island in a haze, though it wasn't far from the shore. The water, normally clear enough that the sun shone straight through to the bottom on a sunny day, was bleak and mysterious as it reflected the gray of the sky. It lent itself an aura of mystery, like there could be pirate ships and sunken treasure hidden just beneath a swimmer's toes, though Clive knew the water wasn't nearly that deep.

There were several counselors already milling around by the lake in various states of wakefulness, along with the kids from their cabins. Most of the campers had already shaken off the last of their sleep, and many were clustered in groups chatting. From the whispers he picked up as he passed by, Clive could tell that a good deal of them were anxious but trying to mask it with their excitement, which was equally genuine.

There were only two members of the camp staff that Clive could see who looked truly awake. The first was Kenneth, who had prepared vats of hot cocoa and chicken soup for the campers to have when they returned to warm them up when they returned. He had probably been up for at least an hour already preparing them, and had the added bonus of being able to stay warm and dry on land because he had to mind the portable burner keeping the pots warm. Lucky bastard.

The second was Cid, standing on the edge of the dock with his foot braced against one of the supporting poles as he looked out over towards the island. He had already stripped off his sandals and shirt, leaving him bare-chested in just his swim trunks despite the chill of the morning. He didn't look like he felt the cold mountain air, instead letting it brace him and liven him up despite his state of undress.

The other counselors looked like they wanted to crawl back into bed even more than Clive did. Gav and Dorys were working together to drag a canoe into the lake and practically dropped it off of the dock into the water, jumping back when it splashed them. Cole and August were much more careful with their own canoe, but Clive had to suppress a snort when August went to climb in and accidentally plunged his entire foot into the freezing lake. He couldn't hear him from here, but he could see his lips move with a few muttered curses.

Still, he was a little envious of them, because they also weren't required to get into the water. Some of the camp staff stayed on shore to remain with any kids that changed their minds about swimming at the last minute, while others, like Gav and August, would cross with the group in canoes, so they could pull any kids that couldn't make it the full way into the boats and ferry them across. The rest were supposed to be scattered amongst the group of swimmers.

"Kenneth snuck some coffee in an extra thermos, if you wanted some." Clive turned at the sound of Jill's voice. She was just arriving with her own group - it looked like a pretty good chunk of her cabin had decided to swim this morning, too. Tett broke away from Clive's group as soon as he saw his sister approach, and Arthur and Josselin waved Aimee over from Jill's group as soon as they spotted her. Like him, Jill was dressed to swim, but still covered up to protect against the chill, him with a hoodie, her with a blue slip dress that reached her knees. She had also brought a towel and some warm clothing bundled in her arms - Clive knew from experience that though the water itself was cold, the worst part was getting out of the water once you were done swimming, especially if you didn't have something cozy to slip into afterwards.

"Thank the Founder," he sighed. Coffee sounded amazing right about now. "I'll wait until we're back. I think if I drink something warm right now it'll only make the water feel colder."

"You never did like these swims," Jill said, a smile upon her lips. "You always complained about getting up early and about how cold the water was - but you did it anyway. Nice to know some things don't change."

Clive shuffled his feet. "Yes, well. I had someone I really wanted to swim with. I still do now." It felt like too much to admit that he was doing this for her, but their time together was so limited. Especially after he had accidentally hurt her the last time they had spoken, he wanted to make it up to her. To let her know how much he valued her company and friendship.

The implication, unfortunately, flew right over Jill's head. "You want to support your campers," she said. Clive wanted to bash his head against a wall. "I think that's very sweet. It's just like you used to with Joshua."

Any thoughts of correcting her died with the mention of Joshua, and Clive broke eye contact. He had helped Joshua make this swim for the first time when Joshua was eight, the summer Clive turned thirteen. Like him, Joshua hadn't been eager to dive into the icy water, much preferring to stay warm and dry on shore. However, every other boy in Joshua's cabin was swimming that session, and he had seen Clive make the swim multiple times over the years, eager to spend his time in the water with Jill. He and Jill had swum alongside him, but about a third of the way across, Joshua had begun to flounder. Clive had wanted him to climb into one of the canoes paddling alongside them, but Joshua had refused, not wanting to let the other boys down. Instead, he had looped his arms around Clive's neck at Clive's suggestion and let his brother ferry him across another section of the lake while he took a breather. He swam the last third to the island under his own power after he had the chance to rest, and the other kids, waiting for them on the island, had cheered when his feet finally touched dry land.

After that day, Joshua had never missed another polar bear swim.

Jill was looking at him strangely. Clive realized that his prolonged silence was suspicious, but this wasn't a discussion he was ready to have with her. Hell, it wasn't a conversation he was ready to have with himself. Even Cid only knew the scantest details about what had happened, and that was only after months that were like pulling teeth in group therapy and a lot of prodding from his personal therapist in one-on-one sessions. Clive had hoped coming back to this place would be healing, would help him recall all the happy memories of his brother and let him find some closure, and he had said so in less words to Cid when he had offered him an interview.

Instead, he was being blindsided once every few days, some new memory dragging him down into his grief once more. His saving grace was that this place was full of distractions - the kids kept him busy and were now growing comfortable enough to start trying to get into trouble, and even when they weren't, they were filling his head with chatter. Otherwise, Otto always had plenty of other odd jobs for him if he ever needed something to keep his mind and hands busy. It was almost enough to drown out the despair, and most days, it faded into the background like it wasn't there at all - until some memory like this rose to the surface again and threatened to sweep him away in its current.

"Do you still like these?" he asked hoarsely, just for a chance to fill the silence. It wasn't the smoothest of transitions, but he didn't want to have to respond to the question that would surely come up if he stayed silent.

"I haven't done one in a long time," Jill replied, and she turned her head to look out over the water. "I remember I used to love these - I never missed one, even during the few that you decided to sit out. I know you hated how cold the water was this early in the morning, but I never minded it. It made me feel...calm, I guess. Like I was taking the ice inside me and it was making me stronger."

"You always did have ice running through your veins, Starlight," Clive said absently, his head still full of Joshua, before realizing how harsh the words were. "I meant that literally. Or...metaphorically?" he fumbled.

"It's all right, Wolfie," Jill stopped him before he could make the hole he was digging any deeper. "I know you didn’t mean it like that."

“I only meant that you never seemed to mind the cold,” he finished lamely.

Cid had pushed away from where he was looking out over the water and was calling the campers and staff together to get into the water. Cid himself was the first in the water, having volunteered to lead the pack across the lake the day before. He had been far too eager yesterday to jump into the freezing water in Clive's opinion, and even now executed a perfect swan dive beneath the waves with nary a splash before emerging with a shake of his head, calling the kids to join him. The campers followed him in with varying degrees of trepidation, some choosing to jump off the dock just like Cid while others dipped their toes in at the shoreline and complained about the temperature before wading in.

"Cid wants me in the middle of the pack on the left flank," Clive told Jill, grateful for Cid's distraction. "Where did he want you?"

"I'm bringing up the rear," Jill replied. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on anyone falling behind. You get to do the fun part - moral support for all the campers."

He hummed noncommittally, still not fully present in this conversation. "I guess I should think about joining him out there," he said. About half the kids were in the water now, the other half still debating ditching in favor of their warm bunks.

"You probably should," Jill agreed. "See you on the other side?”

"Of course," he said before turning and heading towards the dock. Clive pulled both his camp lanyard and his hoodie over his head before kicking off his sandals, leaving all three next to the dock with the kids' clothing. He looked out over the lake at the group splashing through the water. Cid was at the head of the pack, leading the group like the first bird traveling south for the winter, and others following along. A couple of the older kids were trying to catch up to him, but Cid was in an easy front crawl stroke, dipping in and out of the water as effortlessly as a seal gliding through frigid northern waters. Hortense was on the left side of the group, already in the water and encouraging a young boy to keep going.

As he surveyed the water, most of the kids seemed to be doing well, most eager to get to the other side. No one seemed to be struggling beyond the initial dive in, though he identified a couple that seemed to be overexerting themselves in their effort to get to the other side quickly. He'd have to keep an eye out for them.

He couldn't delay getting in the water any longer. He knew from experience that wading in would only make the water feel colder, and it was better to dunk his head as quickly as possible to help him adjust. Clive took a deep breath, released it, and walked off the edge of the dock to plunge in.

As soon as he hit the icy lake, Clive knew he had made a mistake.

The water hit him like a thousand knives piercing through his skin, but years of training kept him from gasping while his head was submerged. Instead, he rose slowly, exhaling deliberately through his nose as soon as it cleared the water before inhaling on a ten-count. His fingers felt like they were going numb already - the water couldn't actually be that cold, could it? - so he flexed them to try to work the feeling back into them, focusing intently on the motion to push the strange feeling rising in him aside.

The last few kids were getting into the water, and at this rate, the group was going to leave him behind. Clive tried to ignore the deep chill penetrating his skin, the ache rattling his teeth as he grit them from the cold and the memory fighting to break through, and pushed off from the edge of the dock to try to make his way towards the center of the group.

There was something...familiar about this, setting him into a meditative trance even as the chill of the water washed over his body. Clive did his best to push off the sense of déja vu, but on instinct, his body settled into a breaststroke low in the water, keeping his chin and mouth submerged to make himself as inconspicuous as possible from anyone who might be watching for them from above. His breathing through his nose was slow and even, even though the cold made him want to gasp and chatter his teeth.

It was an old impulse from his time in the military, he realized. They had done this exercise half a dozen times in training, throwing the recruits into frigid northern waters and forcing them to swim to shore to force them to overcome their limits, to stand up to the harshest conditions the world had to offer even when all their bodies wanted to do was shut down and sleep. He could practically hear the drill sergeant's voice shouting in his ear, comfortable in an insulated coat in the speedboat skimming alongside them instead of in the freezing water, his fellow trainees gasping and floundering their way back to shore.

It took him a moment to realize that the person swimming next to him wasn't one of the other recruits, but instead one of the campers. Kihel was struggling through the water in a doggie paddle, kicking up water as she went and panting from the exertion. Stop splashing, slow your breathing, they'll see us, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue instead. There was no one here to see them that they should be worried about - why would he say something like that?

"You're doing great," he told her instead, but his voice was haggard, his smile visibly feigned. He could see that she was having trouble, but was pushing through it. He wanted to encourage her, to tell her that she could do it, but the island was still so far away. He wasn't even sure he could do it. "Not far now." His voice rang hollow.

"I can do it," Kihel huffed as she paddled along. "I can do it if you're with me."

Clive didn't know how to respond to that, so simply nodded and turned his eyes back to the island.

Even with Kihel swimming alongside him, Clive had trouble focusing. He knew he should be paying attention to the young girl beside him who clearly needed his help, but he was struggling to break out of the strange feeling still bubbling up within him.

It wasn't the memory of training that was dragging him down, he realized, but a memory of a time after he had been deployed. He had traveled to Waloed many times throughout his service, most often dropping in from a plane or sneaking in through the Shadow Coast on a small boat. However, there had been once when they hadn't even been able to do that. Their previous mission had gone wrong, and the waters and skies around Ash were on high alert. Dropping them in by air or ocean wasn't an option, a boat or airplane too conspicuous, but they had another high-priority mission, and one that couldn't wait.

Instead, they had taken them about halfway to Ash and pushed Clive and his unit into the ocean and told them to swim the rest of the way across the Narrow.

It had been the most harrowing few hours of his life. They had dropped them in some ways north of Twinside, where the water was draining in from the north down the strait. At one point, Clive was sure he could see an iceberg floating by somewhere to his left. The frigid water then had felt like the water now, and he had to force himself to stop shivering from the cold. Shivering would only burn energy, energy which he would sorely need once he reached the other side, to even make it to the shore of Waloed in the first place.

They had made it to the other side on equal parts luck and extensive training, his entire unit collapsing on the beach as soon as they arrived, relieved that they had made landfall without incident. His heavy gear was soaked through, weighing him down even further, but he had never been so relieved as he had been then - until they had been forced to get up again and get back to work.

He didn't know what to do with this strange feeling bubbling up within him, the memory dragging him down into its depths. Clive had, unfortunately, experienced panic attacks in the past, and was familiar enough with them to know what they felt like. He had used to experience them fairly frequently, and he had woken up many nights in a cold sweat and paralyzed with fear or had to lock himself in a supply closet and curl up in a ball on the floor, gulping down air and trying not to throw up until it passed. Thankfully, that which had once been his constant companion was now a rarity, well-controlled by the coping mechanisms he had developed in talk therapy and a careful balance of anti-anxiety medication.

This didn't feel like a panic attack, or at least not one he had ever experienced before. He was aware of what was going on around him, and if he focused he could identify the sights and sounds around them for what they were rather than allowing his brain to twist them into something horrific. But every time his focus slipped, the memory would claw at him and pull him under again.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't just anxiety or a bad memory fighting its way to the surface - it was a fear of himself, a deep-seated and growing dread of what would happen when he reached the island. Everything he had worked to put behind him would come rushing back, and the Clive he had been trying to become since he had left the military would be washed away by what he would have to become when he reached the shore, just as it always had with every crossing he had made back then.

"Is everything all right, Kihel?" Clive didn't turn at the sound of Jill's voice, but he could hear her swimming behind them. Unbeknownst to him, his pace had slowed as he wrestled with his memories, lagging behind where he was supposed to be as his instincts told him to swim slower, or they'll find you!

"I'm okay," Kihel replied, and Jill came into view on Kihel's opposite side, slowing down once she drew level with them so she could swim side by side with them. "Wolfie's having trouble, though. I'm helping him."

Clive would have barked out a laugh if he wasn't so stressed. Instead, he exhaled deeply, blowing bubbles in the water. He was the one that was supposed to be helping her, but he couldn't even hide his own struggles from a pre-teen girl. He was pathetic.

"That's very sweet of you," Jill said warmly. "Why don't you go check in on Heidemarie? She looks like she needs some encouragement. I've got Wolfie."

"Okay," Kihel agreed, and swam off through the water, all signs of her earlier difficulties gone as she darted through the water like a fish.

Clive paused, just treading water for a moment as he tried to regain himself. Jill swam around him so she was facing him, glancing behind her shoulder to make sure there weren't any kids nearby. "Clive, what's going on?" she said quietly. "Is everything okay?"

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just shook his head. How was he supposed to explain this feeling?

Jill glanced over his shoulder and waved, and one of the canoes came skimming to a stop near them. Jill grabbed the lip of it to steady herself in the water, and Clive mirrored her more on instinct than an actual desire for stability. To his surprise, he found that having the support of the canoe helped to pull him a little further out of his thoughts. Back then, there had been nothing to cling on to halfway across, nowhere to stop and take a break, so he slowed his arms and legs rather than fighting to tread water, letting the canoe bear a bit more of his weight.

"Are you all right?" Dorys asked from her spot at the head of the boat.

"Is the swim too far?" Jill asked. "Looks like we're about halfway there."

Clive shook his head. The military had kept him in great shape, and he had done his best to keep up the workout routine since he had left. The gym was one of the few places he could simply clear his mind and forget - a short swim across the lake wouldn't exhaust him. "It's not that," he said, finally finding his words. "I'm not sure what it is. The cold, maybe."

"It don't look like it's just the cold," Gav said from his spot at the back of the canoe. "You're white as a ghost, mate."

"This water isn't cold enough to cause hypothermia," Dorys noted.

"No," Clive replied. "It's not." He knew what that felt like, the frost seeping into your bones even through the insulted wetsuits until you couldn't even shiver. This water wasn't even nearing that cold - but while he would have expected to adjust to the temperature eventually, even after being in the water for several minutes, it still felt like it was trying to rip through him.

"Do you want to ride the rest of the way in the canoe?" Dorys asked. "It'll get you out of the water. We've got blankets up here."

Clive shook his head, and spared a glance at the group of kids swimming away from them. There were a few that were glancing curiously over their shoulders back to their group. As much as he wanted to get out of the water right f*cking now, he didn't want them to see his weakness. "I don't want the kids to see. I don't want them to think they can give up halfway through, too."

"You're not giving up," Jill told him firmly. "You're having trouble, and there's no shame in asking for help. The only thing they'll learn is to try their best, and that we'll be there to help them if they can't do it. If anything, it'll help them learn to push their limits, knowing that they'll be safe if they accidentally push themselves too hard."

Clive considered that carefully. He was still worried about disappointing his campers, since so many of them had been eager to take part in the swim. Even now, he could see a couple of them racing to the other side, Tett crowing with victory when his feet were the first to hit the shore of the island. However, he could see a few of them panting as they doggie-paddled along, having trouble but still trying their best. And wasn't that what he was doing, too? He'd certainly be humbled if he gave up halfway across, but would it help them realize that there was no shame in making their best effort, knowing that there would be someone there to support them if they couldn't?

He really didn't want to be in the water anymore.

"All right," he agreed. "Get me out of here."

"That's the spirit," Gav said.

Gav and Dorys both braced one hand on the opposite side of the canoe from him, and Jill dove underneath the waves and emerged on the far side, using her weight against the edge to counterbalance as they leaned over the edge to reach for him in the water. Each extended a hand and grasped his own. Clive kicked his feet under the water to give himself some momentum as they both pulled up to haul him into the boat.

Or tried to. As soon as Clive was partway out of the water, the canoe tilted dangerously towards him. Dorys and Gav both threw themselves in the opposite direction of him to try to counterbalance and Jill hauled herself further onto her side to keep them from tipping over, even as Gav shouted, "Woah, woah, woah!" They fought for balance, the canoe rocking dangerously from side to side, and Gav dropped Clive's hand to grab the edges in both hands to stabilize them. Clive dropped back into the water, his head dipping beneath the waves before he emerged sputtering from both the chill and the water in his mouth.

After a moment, they managed to hold the canoe steady. "Do you want to try again?" Jill asked, leaning against her edge of the boat again just a little.

"I think if we do, we're both goin’ overboard," Gav replied.

Clive exhaled. He was right. The canoes were pretty stable and the staff were trained to pull kids from the water if needed, but Clive was much bigger and much heavier than any of the kids at camp. There was probably a way to get him into the boat without capsizing the whole thing, but none of them knew how to do it. "f*ck," he muttered.

Dorys set her jaw, determined. "If we go over, then we go over," she said. "It's just water, we'll be fine."

"Speak for yourself," Gav muttered.

Jill reached up and smacked him on the arm. "This isn't the time for sarcasm."

"You're right, you're right," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "If the boat tips over, we can go under and flip it - might be easier than tryin' to drag you up here, anyhow."

Clive gripped the edge of the boat, white-knuckled. He didn't want to be in the freezing water anymore, worrying about what would happen once he reached the far shore, but neither did he want to toss Gav and Dorys into the water unwillingly. Neither were dressed to swim - they were in warm, water-resistant clothing, but their heavy jackets would drag them down if they jumped in the water, and would take ages to dry out when they finally returned to dry land.

"It's fine," he shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'll just push through it."

Jill was looking at him with a concerned expression as she swam around the front of the boat to tread water on the same side as him again. "Are you sure?”

He tried to smile at her. It probably looked more like a grimace. "I said I'll be fine," he repeated, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

She braced her hand on the side of the boat to glance behind her again. "What if we beached the boat?" she asked. "If we can reach the island, we can pull the boat ashore and you can climb in from there. I know it's not ideal, but at least then you won't have to make the swim back. Do you think you can make it?"

It wasn't a perfect solution - he'd still have to worry about the rest of the swim across, about who he would have to become once he reached the island, but at least he wouldn't have to do it all over again on the way back. "I can do it."

"You're sure?" Dorys asked.

"Sure enough," Clive replied. He had to forcibly remove his hand from the edge of the boat.

"If'n you change your mind, just wave," Gav told him as he picked up the paddle again. "We'll keep an eye out and come back if you need us. A mornin' swim would do us good, or whatever nonsense Cid keeps tryin' to feed us." He cracked a smile down at Clive before he and Dorys pushed away back to the main body of the group.

Jill was still treading water alongside him. "I'm going to swim with you," she told him.

"You don't have to do that," he said. He didn't want her to have to support his weakness, didn't want to drag her down with him.

"I know," she said. "But I'm going to."

He didn't want to take her away from the kids, not if they really needed her, but Jill seemed determined, and most of the kids were far ahead of them anyways. By the time she caught up to them, they'd all be on the other side and preparing to swim back. Clive slowly nodded his assent.

Jill smiled at him, and then turned to face the island. "Come on. I'll swim ahead of you," she said, starting to paddle across the lake. "Try not to worry about the water or the swim or anything else. Just focus on me."

Clive followed after her, his mind still stuck on the far shore, but Jill slowed her speed, swimming slowly and just barely in front of him, forcing him to slow his pace and think about his strokes so he wouldn't go crashing into her. Like this, he couldn't see the shoreline, most of his view eclipsed by the back of her head.

It made it difficult to worry about what would happen when they reached the other side, and instead his senses were flooded with Jill. There were no excitable kids in their vicinity, and in the mist of the early morning, it seemed like they were alone in the endless lake, their only companion the slight ripples across the water.

Jill moved slippery as an eel through the water, no sign of struggle despite the chill of the water and the early hour. She was a bastion of strength, the cold only seeming to make her more powerful and confident in her motions. Her hair was unbound, and fanned around her. As he trailed along in her wake, it floated back towards him, looking like silver seaweed. She reminded him of a mermaid, stunning and assured beneath the waves. She would not have been out of place in his fantasy of sunken ships and treasures hiding at the bottom of the lake. Maybe she was a mermaid, but a kindly one, not the type who lured unwary sailors to their deaths, but one who had swam up from the depths to help a lost soul. On an impulse, he reached out and caught one of the silver tresses, running in between his fingers just to assure himself that she was real.

Jill turned to glance behind her, and for a moment he worried he had overstepped. He made to withdraw, but his fingers tangled in the wet strands. "f*ck," he muttered, his other hand coming out to gentle unravel it from around his digits. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she said, and she smiled at him, her breath huffing out from between her teeth and steaming the air in front of her. She grabbed for his hand, helping to unweave him from her hair. However, she didn't release him when she was done. "Ready to keep going?"

"Yeah," he said distantly, and she turned from him once more, her hand still wrapped around his and stretched behind her to encourage him to trail after her.

Trying to swim with one hand bound was easier said than done, forcing him to splash the water just a bit more to stay afloat and keep up with her. Somehow, it made it easier to push the old memories aside - the more he struggled, the less this was like that old, freezing swim across the Narrow. Despite the cold of the water, her hand was warm, and every time he clutched at her fingers just a little, just to remind him that this was real, that she was real and he was too, she'd squeeze his hand back in return and glance back, self-assured and calm as the lake they were making their way through.

Swimming through the water like this, with her paddling along nearby, the water didn't feel nearly as cold. Or maybe it was just him that wasn't as cold, something inside him unthawing just by having her by his side.

He only realized they had made it to the opposite shore when he stubbed his toe on a rock. He stumbled in the water before his feet found purchase. Jill didn't give him time to worry about it, stepping out of the lake and dragging him out behind her before he had the chance to doubt himself. He didn't even feel the morning breeze, chilling the water sluicing off his body in rivulets, with how warm he felt when she turned and smiled at him. She faced him fully, taking the hand she was holding in both of her own.

"I knew you could do it," she said warmly, and Clive flushed from head to toe.

"Not without you, I couldn't have," he replied, grinning like a fool.

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But you still did it. You always had it in you."

He didn't know about that. When he had been on his own, he had been floundering, fearing the water, the shore, himself. With her, he was steady, focused, and, though not fearless, able to face that which frightened him so. She had given him exactly what he needed without even knowing it.

She had always done that for him.

He wanted her to know. He needed her to understand that she made him better, that he was stronger when she was by his side. He wanted to tell her how much he valued her, how much he cared for her.

He reached out with his free hand to touch hers, so both of his hands held hers. He stared deep into her eyes, needing her to understand what he meant even as he fumbled with the words. "Jill, I..."

To their left, one of the kids whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "Why are Wolfie's ears turning red?"

The girl she was speaking to giggled, "His face is getting all red, too."

Suddenly aware of the flush across his cheeks, Clive dropped Jill's hands like he had been burned and broke eye contact. "Thank you," he said lamely as the words and his nerve fled him. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Anytime," Jill responded after a brief pause.

The canoe was some way down the shore, and Dorys had jumped into the calf-deep water to drag it up onto the shore. "Do you still want a ride back?" she called out to him. He hesitated before responding, not sure how to answer.

"There's no shame in it," Jill reminded him.

No, there wasn't - now that his head was clearer and Jill's presence had calmed him, he could see that. However, he no longer feared the cold water, the steadily encroaching shore, not with the gentle fire filling his veins, though he worried plunging back into the icy depths might douse it.

"I think I want to swim," he finally said.

"All right," Jill said. "I know you've got it in you to make it back, too."

I do, he wanted to tell her. I can do it if you're with me.

But the giggling girls from before were still watching them curiously, and he was reluctant to give them any more fodder for gossip. "I'll be fine," he told her. "Will you switch spots with me, though? I think I'll do better at the back of the group."

"Of course," Jill agreed. "If you think that's best."

"I do."

Clive made the second crossing without issue, bringing up the rear of the pack of kids. This time, there was no fear, no strange memories bubbling up to the surface unbidden. When he started having the slightest doubt, when the flame in his chest began to flicker, he'd look up from the water, from the kids in front of him, to find her in the group. Just the sight of her brought the flame roaring back full force, giving him the strength to continue on.

They reached the opposite shore to the cheers of the staff and the kids getting out of the water. Any complaints they had harbored as they were getting in the lake were thrown aside in favor of boasting to their friends about how tough they were, how they had swam out and back in the freezing water in the early morning.

Clive looked for Jill as soon as he had finished toweling himself dry, slipping his hoodie back over his head in an effort to stay warm. She was surrounded by her cabin group, the girls congratulating each other on a successfully completed polar bear swim. With some disappointment, he watched them lead her away to the mess hall to find their breakfast. He still wanted to thank her for helping him, for everything she had done for him and for everything she was to him.

Now if only he could find the time.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

That night, Clive asked Oscar to help the boys settle in for bed. Most were fading despite the fact that it was still early, the effect of rising with the dawn that morning starting to affect them. Some of them had even been yawning through dinnertime, and he was pretty sure he spotted Tett falling asleep on Arthur's shoulder during the evening campfire.

"They look pretty tired out tonight. Just read them the next chapter of their bedtime story. They'll probably be asleep before you're halfway through," Clive told his junior counselor.

"Maybe, but they'll be disappointed you weren't there to say good night," Oscar replied.

"They'll be fine," Clive said. "I'll just say good night to them now. Besides, you do the silly voices better than I do."

Most of the boys were already in their beds when he rounded the corner to their bunks, with the exception of Arthur and Josselin sitting together on the mattress and talking. "Wolfie, you're not ready for bed," Josselin observed, noticing that Clive was still wearing his day clothes, and had even added a jacket over the top.

"I'm headed out for a bit," Clive replied. "I need to do something. I won't be long, but you'll probably be asleep when I get back, so I wanted to say goodnight before I left."

"Wolfie's leaving? " Tett said, suddenly sounding much more awake and increasingly distressed.

"I'm not leaving," Clive soothed. "I'll be back soon, you'll see me in the morning. I just need to go speak with someone. I'll be right back."

That seemed to settle him a bit. "Who are you going to speak with? Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"It can't," he replied.

"Okay," Tett said. "But be careful, okay? Scout says wildcats and bears come out after dark."

"Scout likes to embellish a bit much for my taste." It had probably just been a piece of information shared during a nature hike, but Clive would need to have a talk with Gav at some point about frightening the kids. Even if it was always good to be on alert for potential dangers, the chances of a dangerous wild animal sneaking into camp were minimal, and even if it wasn't, Torgal would be around to chase them off. "I'll be careful, I promise," he said anyways, which seemed to settle Tett's nerves before he left the cabin.

The fire circle was on the far side of the camp from the lake, about equidistant from the girls’ and boys’ cabins. Every night after dinner, the entire camp would gather around the logs laid flat on their sides, arranged in a circle around a roaring bonfire that was built up as the sun set. Once a week, the kids would be allowed to roast marshmallows over the flames, but more often, they'd use the time to share news from the camp, to sing campfire songs and tell stories, and for the kids to share the adventures they had enjoyed throughout the day.

Most of the kids loved campfire time - there was a certain magic to sitting by a roaring fire with their closest friends as the sky darkened. With the trees around pressing close and the darkness creeping in, there was a warmth to huddling around the flames, feeling the heat on his face and the chill at his back, his nose full of the scent of pine and smoke and cool night air. Some of Clive's fondest memories of camp were of sitting by the fire with Jill and Joshua.

Unfortunately, it left a logistical issue for the adults. They couldn't simply leave the fire burning all night - although the trees had been trimmed back around the fire circle, a stray spark that caught a branch or one of the pine needles on the ground could set the whole camp ablaze. Therefore, the camp staff rotated through the duty of staying behind at the campfire to keep an eye on it until it burned down enough to smother it. The job was an easy one, if a bit lonely, and it could get cold as the flames flickered into nothingness.

A job that had been assigned to Jill that night. She had sent her campers along to bed with her junior counselor as she took her spot on a log not far from the campfire. She had waved to Clive as he passed by with his boys, who were practically falling asleep at that point.

She'd be alone, and likely for a while, since the fire had still been going strong by the time they had left. It was the perfect time to sneak out and speak with her, to finally tell her what he wanted to say to her.

The fire was burning moderately by the time he arrived at the fire circle. She was sitting not far from the ring, on the edge of a log where she could be closest to the heat of the fire. She looked up when she saw the glow of his flashlight shining on the path, but he clicked it off as he approached, his steps guided by the light of the flickering flames.

"Hey," she greeted quietly when the light from the dying campfire illuminated his face.

"Hi," he said back, just as softly, not wanting to break the quiet, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire and the sound of crickets. Somewhere in the trees, an owl hooted, low and somber. "I asked Oscar to put the boys to bed. Can I join you?"

"Of course," Jill replied. "Will you be alright? It's going to get cold." She had the foresight to bring a blanket with her, and had laid it over the top of her legs.

"I'll be alright," he replied.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "I know you said it bothered you. The...cold." She tripped over the last word, and her eyes darted away from his.

He had mentioned that this morning, when they had been in the water, that the cold was getting to him. It hadn't exactly been the cold itself that had been bothering him, but the memory that the cold kept dragging up in him, but he still didn't know how to explain that. She needn't have concerned herself - he still carried the warmth she had gifted him this morning in his chest, and the sight of her before him only fanned it. It radiated out to leave the rest of him calm and comfortable from head to toe. He wanted to share that same warmth with her - it was why he had come out here.

Perhaps even literally share it, because even as the thought crossed his mind, a breeze swept through the trees, causing the flames to flicker even as it stole the warmth away from the fire circle. Jill shivered and tucked her blanket further under her legs before crossing her arms before her.

"I'm fine," he assured her, and approached where she was sitting. "I usually run warm. You, on the other hand, look ready to freeze, and it's going to get colder the longer you sit out here."

"It's only because I've been sitting out here longer than you," she replied, even as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Don't worry. I'll be heading back to my nice warm bunk after this. I even have a battery operated heating pad that I hid under the covers."

"Sounds lovely," he said. "But it doesn't help you much now." He tugged the zipper of his jacket down and shrugged out of it. "Here. This will help." He stood before her and swept it over her, draping it over her shoulders and arranging it so it covered her arms.

Jill frowned, and attempted to slip out of it, but he tugged the edges a little closer around her, insistent. "Clive, then you'll be cold."

"Like you said, you've been out here longer than me. I'll be fine for a while." Besides, the sight of her enveloped in his jacket only helped to stoke the warmth in his chest.

With a sigh, she accepted his offering, nestling into the soft lining of the inside, still warm from his body heat. "Fine," she huffed, and he was pleased to see her turn and bury her nose in the collar. "But I'm not going to let you freeze if you're going to join me," she told him once she had finished warming her face. "Come here." She patted the spot next to her on the log, and he sat beside her at the invitation. Jill untucked the blanket from around her legs and tossed half of it over his lap. It wasn't a large blanket, and half of one of his legs was still uncovered. He tugged it a little closer, but frowned when he realized that it only pulled the blanket further off of her.

He was about to tell her that he was fine, that sitting beside her was more than enough, but then she shifted and scooted closer to him. Suddenly her thigh was pressed up against his, her shoulder brushing up against his own. His breath hitched, and a flush climbed up his neck, but she reached over and rearranged the blanket over his legs. Pressed together like this, there was just enough blanket to cover both of their legs.

"There," Jill said, satisfied. "Now we'll both be warm."

"Thank you," he murmured, low and sweet, and she hummed in response, leaning just a bit further against him.

It was nice, being able to sit together like this, watching the fire slowly burn down. Though every once in a while a stiff breeze would whip through the trees and ruffle her hair, Jill didn't shiver, and neither did he, warmed by her body beside him, her knees knocking against his own. It reminded him of when they were young, sitting around this same fire circle, whispering to each other and being scolded by their counselor for interrupting the story being told.

Now, in this moment, there was no one to stop them, no one to worry about interrupting. They were alone, with only the stars and the flickering flames to overhear them. It still frightened him to speak, to say the words aloud, to tell her how much he meant to him, but he wanted her to know, needed her to understand what she had done for him. He had seen so much death and suffering. He knew better than anyone that they could both be dead by tomorrow - it may have been statistically unlikely here at a summer camp in the middle of the mountains, but he had already experienced the agony of losing someone he thought he had so much more time with.

Even without the threat of death hanging over them, who knew how much more time he had with Jill? True, they had another several weeks of camp left, but so far circ*mstances had seen fit to keep them apart, and they had precious little time alone. What he meant to say was for her ears only, and he didn't need anyone else overhearing and laughing about it.

Still, he found his resolve fleeing him. He knew what he wanted to say, but now that he had created the opportunity to say it, his doubts threatened to overwhelm him. After a moment of hesitation, he set his hand on his thigh, palm up, and glanced over at Jill. He needed some of her strength just about now, to give him the courage to speak.

Jill tilted her head curiously at his offering, and for a moment, he feared that she might refuse him. Then, she lifted her own hand to take his, skating her fingers down the inside of his wrist and palm before lacing them with his own.

"Everything all right?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied, giving her palm a soft squeeze. Her hand looked so small wrapped in his own, but the sight of it warmed him, giving the strength he needed. "It is now."

He pulled back slightly from where their shoulders were pressed together, but only so he could turn ever so slightly to look her in the eye. His knee nudged hers at the change in angle.

"Jill," he said, and with her hand in his own, he found the courage to speak. "I wanted to thank you for this morning."

"Clive, you don't need to thank me," she said, her voice soft.

"I know. But I wanted to."

She tilted her head curiously, but she didn't break eye contact. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said quickly, but not unkindly. He still wasn't sure what exactly had happened - some sort of stress response to the cold water, maybe, brought on by his distraction and breaking through his anti-anxiety medication - but he didn't want to examine it too closely with her at the time. Maybe later on, when he was alone, or in his next session with his therapist. "No, I'd...rather put the whole incident behind me, if it's all the same with you."

"If that's what you'd like," she responded.

"It is," he said, relieved, before he continued on. "But I still wanted to thank you. You caught me in a...difficult moment, as I'm sure you're aware. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it across. But with just one look, you knew that I needed help, and you knew exactly what I needed when even I didn't."

He glanced away from her briefly and swallowed thickly. Thanking her for helping him was one thing, but the rest of it was harder, and the words stuck in his throat.

But then, her fingers flexed in his own once more, and he returned his gaze to hers - calm and assured, yes, but also warm and inviting.

"You've always done that for me," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "From the very first moment we met, you've supported me. Whenever I was struggling, you were always there to lend me a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Even during all those years we were separated, the memory always helped me to pick myself up and carry on even when I was at my lowest. I know it may seem a little silly to think that, especially since we haven't truly known each other in so long, but I didn't want to let this go unsaid. I've seen so much go wrong in my life, and I don't want to live to regret it if I never got the chance to tell you how much that means to me. How much you mean to me."

His last words were barely above a whisper, so captivated was he by her wide eyes, the awed look upon her face. "And to come back now, after all these years," he said softly, squeezing her hand in his own, "and to find you still here, and that you still do that for me, that you have this power to stop all of my doubts and my fears in their tracks when I can't escape them - Jill, it's been the greatest blessing of my life to have you back in it, and I am so, so glad that you're here with me. Thank you."

"I did that for you?" she murmured. She was leaning in just a little, drawn in by his words.

"You did," he rasped, unable to look away. "You do."

Her gaze went from stunned to determined, but still with that glint of longing in it. Suddenly, her other hand reached out and grabbed his, so his one hand was cradled in both of hers.

"Clive, you don't understand," she breathed. "I always felt like you were the one who did that for me. From the very first moment we met, you saved me. Just by being there for me, you made me a better person, someone I've struggled to be for years."

His brows furrowed. "From the first moment we met?"

"Yes."

"I seem to remember that you were the one who helped me," he said, breaking eye contact with a soft chuckle. "I don't know if you ever knew, but that first day we met in the mess hall, I was having a difficult day. I thought I was the only kid who didn't get anything from their parents. I thought I was about to burst into tears in front of the entire camp, and you saved me."

"Maybe I helped you in that moment," Jill replied, and his eyes were drawn back to hers by her hands flexing around his. "But what you did for me after that changed my life for the better in ways that I don't think I can fully define."

He struggled to fathom how anything he had done that day could have affected her so drastically. He knew how she made him feel, how she had changed him for the better, but he couldn't imagine how anything he did could have done the same for her. He wracked his brain, but was coming up short. Finally, he said, "I don't think I understand."

"Then let me explain," Jill said, and Clive listened intently as she wove her tale.

She had just turned eight when her parents found her out.

Every summer since she had started kindergarten, her mother would ask her if there was anything fun she wanted to do over the summer, if she wanted to invite any of her friends from school over or if she wanted to go visit them. Jill would simply shrug and tell them she just wanted to stay home and read and watch cartoons. Her friends were all going on vacation to somewhere tropical and far away, she would say, or went to visit their distant relatives.

She didn't have the heart to tell them that she didn't have any friends to invite over in the first place. Ever since she had started school, she had struggled to connect with the other children. Every year, she promised herself it would be a new start, that she would be able to connect with another classmate, and every year she failed. Oh, she had people to sit next to during lunch, and people didn't complain if she was placed in their group for projects. If she spoke, they would usually listen, but more often than not, someone else would speak over her as if she hadn't even said anything. Jill had always been quiet, soft-spoken, but even the shyest of the class seemed to stand out when paired off with her.

Next to everyone else, Jill simply seemed to blend into the background, invisible. She wasn't picked on, but sometimes she wished she was. At least then someone would notice if she disappeared.

Instead, she simply faded away into the background, as permanent and overlooked as the carpet or the walls of the classroom.

She told herself that she was okay with it. She did well in class, and her teachers treated her well. Every summer, she checked out a mountain of books and mowed through the library's summer reading program. A late bloomer, her stories would call it, and she clung to that hope desperately. Even if no one knew she was alive this year, next year they'd surely start to take notice.

But when her parents surprised her for her birthday with a summer at camp, Jill had all but panicked. They had phrased it as something to be excited about, but Jill had her doubts. Not only would she be away from her parents all summer, but also her books and her home. It felt like she was being punished.

"You're going to have so much fun," her mother said when she expressed some of her anxiety. "You'll go hiking and swimming and all sorts of other fun things. You're going to make so many new friends - and because everyone is new to camp, you don't have to worry about breaking into a new friend group. Everyone starts out on equal footing. You're going to love it, I promise - six weeks is going to go by in a flash, and then you're going to wish it would never end."

Jill did her best to believe her. She even checked out a book at the school library about summer camps, an adventure tale about a group of kids searching for a treasure at their camp. As the months ticked down, she managed to talk herself around and tell herself that this was the summer she was going to change, become outgoing and charming and the type of person everyone wanted to be friends with. She was going to come back popular, with five best friends and twenty more who wanted the title. By the morning the bus came by to pick her up, Jill was ecstatic. She practically inhaled her breakfast and shoved her parents out the door to take her to the pickup spot.

She was nearly vibrating with excitement for the whole bus ride up through the mountains, but when the lake finally came into view over the rise, that familiar nausea was beginning to settle in, the same feeling that hit her at the beginning of every school year as she tried to introduce herself to her new classmates. She tried to push through it, trying instead to focus on her vision of how much she would love going to camp.

It didn't take long for her dreams to shatter. Soon after disembarking, her bus was sorted into cabin groups and introduced to the counselor that would be taking care of them for the next six weeks. Looking around, Jill could see she was probably one of the youngest ones in her group, but she wasn't deterred. She reached out tentatively to the girl next to her, but withdrew her hand before she could touch her, worried her sweaty palm would offend her. "Hi," she breathed, her heart racing. "My name's - "

The girl next to her shrieked, and Jill jumped. She practically shoved past Jill and threw herself into the arms of the girl on Jill's opposite side, screeching, "I missed you so much!" as she embraced her.

All around her, similar reunions were happening, with the other kids embracing and greeting each other. Everyone in her group seemed to already know each other, and she could already hear them recalling memories from their previous camp session.

The butterflies in her stomach died. It was eerily reminiscent of going back to school at the end of every summer, when the other children would greet each other as old friends, excited when they realized they were in the same class together again, exchanging stories about what they had done during the summer holiday.

She tried again, as the days went on. The girls were nice enough to her when they had to be, but they never included her, never spoke to her directly unless the moment required it. During their nightly chat sessions, Jill hovered on the fringes, technically sitting in the circle with them but not truly participating. Even when she did, they rarely took note.

On her third day there, she tried to write a letter to her parents. Please come and get me, she wrote, I hate it here. No one wants to talk to me. I've never felt so alone before. She stared down at the words on the page, feeling her throat swell shut with tears.

She crumpled the letter up in her hands and threw it into the trash. Her parents had such high hopes for her here, and she didn't want to disappoint them, even if she had to lie.

Jill started a new letter. This time, she wrote, I'm having so much fun at camp! The girls in my cabin are all my best friends, and everyone fights over who gets to sit next to me in the mess hall.

She shredded that one and threw it away too. She may not have the heart to tell the truth, but somehow telling a lie felt even more painful.

Now on her third piece of paper, she wrote an honest and exceptionally dispassionate summary of the past few days. They had jumped in the lake the first day and she had passed her swimming test, but the sunscreen provided by the camp wasn't strong enough and she had burned even in the water. They had gone on a hike yesterday and she had overheard the other girls daring each other to kiss a banana slug they found on the path. She had tried to scale the climbing wall but hadn't made it even more than a quarter of the way up before looking down and panicking. She signed off with a simple I love you both, see you in five and a half weeks and sealed it before putting it into the mail bin.

That night, Jill cried herself silently to sleep, her face buried into her pillow so that even if the other girls looked over, they wouldn't see her tears. They already knew the truth, the same one that she was starting to accept about herself - that something was deeply wrong with her, something that kept her disconnected from the others, and that they could see it the moment they saw her. Jill would have given anything to be normal in that moment.

She woke the next morning sniffly and with a headache, feeling wrung out and miserable but much calmer. Maybe she didn't have any friends here, and maybe she wouldn't make any, but it wasn't so different from home. She had brought a couple of books with her, and she had to admit that the camp was lovely, tucked into a valley with mountains all around, the lake pristine on the edge of the grounds. There were worse things in the world than being alone in a beautiful place with your favorite book.

Still, when she returned, she'd tell her parents that she didn't want to go again. There was no reason for her to come back.

That was how Jill spent her next few days at camp. She gave up on reaching out to the other girls in her group, and accepted her lot. She still participated in the group activities the cabin as a whole was signed up for, but she didn't join the others during free time. Instead, she took her book and sat on the steps of her cabin to read in the sunshine. Her counselor approached her once, wondering why she wasn't off with the others, and she told a white lie and said that she was at a really good part of her story and didn't want to stop. She didn't seem to fully believe her, but neither did she push the issue.

Breakfast time at the end of her first week there brought the first mail call of the camp session. Meals had informal seating, and the campers were expected to mix cabin groups. Realistically, everyone sat with their friends or their siblings in other cabins, so meals could be a lively affair as everyone chatted and caught each other up on their activities since the previous meal. Jill usually just slotted herself into the first empty seat she could find.

The counselors came around as breakfast was wrapping up, their arms full of letters and packages for the campers. Jill smiled for the first time all week when one of her own counselors placed a box in front of her with her parents’ return address in the corner, and she eagerly ripped it open. Her family had obviously gotten her previous letter, and had sent along some stronger sunscreen and something to help with her burn, in addition to some candy and the new War of the Eikons book that had come out a few days ago.

There was also a letter within, half written in her father's handwriting, half in her mother's, where they updated her on what had happened at home which, admittedly, wasn't much. Still, reading about the mundane happenings of her family's life, about what her mom had cooked for dinner or the old friend her dad had met for coffee, brought on a pang of homesickness. At least at home, she knew someone cared about her.

At the end of the letter was a postscript from her mother. I hope you're making lots of new friends at camp, she wrote. Just remember - the best way to connect with someone is to share a part of yourself with them.

Jill frowned at that, mulling her words over as she popped a Jolly Rancher in her mouth, the remnants of her breakfast forgotten. Saying that was all well and good, but opening herself up like that was easier said than done. It felt...vulnerable, especially when she was becoming so used to rejection. In the end, it was a moot point. She had no one to share parts of herself with in the first place.

To her left, Jill heard a quiet sniffle. A familiar sound, but one she was more used to hearing from herself than from another person.

She recognized the boy sitting next to her. He was at least a couple years older than her, and she had seen him around the grounds participating in the camp activities, hanging out with the other kids. Jill wasn't embarrassed to admit she had watched him the few times she had seen him around (besides, no one paid her enough attention to comment on who she watched, anyways). He seemed quiet, like her, but unlike her, his reserved nature didn't seem to drive others away. Instead, something about it drew people to him, and something about his soft-spoken words made the people around him quiet down so they could hear him rather than take it as an opportunity to speak over him. It was an easy, natural charisma that she found herself envying.

She didn't envy him now. His shoulders drooped as he crumpled in on himself, his hands clenched into fists on the tabletop before him - a table that was conspicuously empty of a letter or care package, unlike every other camper at their table. His dark hair was falling forward to cover his face, but sitting right next to him, Jill could see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, see the way his throat bobbed as he tried to swallow them back in an effort not to cry in front of the entire cafeteria, hoping no one would look over and see.

It was an expression she was intimately familiar with, and not one she would have ever expected to see on someone as popular as him. At that moment, he looked just as lost and lonely as she felt.

She hated seeing that expression on his face.

"Do you like Jolly Ranchers?" she blurted out before she had a chance to think better of it.

His head jerked to look at her with wide eyes. "What?" he choked out around the bread in his mouth, still sounding teary.

"I wanted to know if you liked Jolly Ranchers," she repeated, suddenly feeling much less sure of herself. "My father sent me some, but the bag he sent me is too big. I don't think I'll be able to finish them, so I...thought that..."

She trailed off towards the end of her sentence, breaking eye contact. This was a stupid idea. Why was she doing this? Maybe he was upset, but he probably had tons of friends to comfort him and didn't want some strange girl bothering him when he was sad. Why would he want to talk to her when he probably had people falling over themselves to be with him?

She had resolved to leave him to find his real friends when she heard all of his words come out in a rush. "I like Jolly Ranchers." Her eyes jumped back to meet his, and he offered her the slightest, watery half-smile.

She grinned back at him, hoping that her own smile would help to bring him some joy, too. "I'll share some with you, then. Here. The blue ones are the best." Blue raspberry had always been her favorite flavor, but she was happy to share if it would wipe away the miserable expression that had been on his face. She took his hand in hers to give him several candies.

She was still smiling at him, but her mind was racing. What was she supposed to do from here? She was pretty sure she was missing something.

Oh. Right. "I'm Jill, by the way," she tacked on awkwardly at the end.

"Clive," he replied, and shook the hand currently holding his own. Jill accepted it but quickly took her hand back, too anxious to keep contact for long. "It's nice to meet you, Jill."

"It's nice to meet you, too."

She wasn't sure what to do from here. It had been a long time since she had even gotten this far - usually, at this point, her new acquaintance would turn and go back to their other friends, and the chances of them ever speaking again plummeted, but Clive was still looking at her like he expected her to say something.

Was it her turn or his? She wasn't sure. The butterflies in her stomach were back with a vengeance. She cast about for something to say, but her mind had gone completely blank. He was still looking at her like he expected to say something, but made no effort to carry on the conversation himself.

Finally, she gave up and turned back to her plate just to have something to do, picking at her food. This has been a stupid idea. Even when she made her best attempt to reach out, she had no idea what to say, no idea how to forge a deeper connection. The disappointment welled up within her, directed more at herself than at him. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just be better at this? Maybe she was just destined to be lonely.

"Is that the new War of the Eikons book?"

Jill practically whirled in her seat to face him, jostling his shoulder in her speed to look at him. "You read the War of the Eikons series?"

"I love it," he replied. "I've never met anyone else who's read it."

"Me neither," she responded. Of course, she hadn't had much of a chance to ask anyone about what books they read, but he didn't need to know that.

"I heard that the new book was coming out, but I was supposed to leave before it was released. My father promised he'd have a copy waiting for me at home when I got back." He was fully engaged now, even leaning a little in to better speak to her.

Having the full force of his attention on her was almost overwhelming after so many years of being a wallflower. It was scary in an entirely different way to trying to make friends for the first time, but exhilarating, too, like the difference between jumping over a cliff and going down a long drop on a roller coaster. Jill preened under the attention even as a part of her wanted to shy away, but she fought the impulse. "I made my dad promise to send it to me when it came out. I brought the other books to re-read them while I waited, but I've been so excited for this one to arrive." She had refused to get on the bus until he had sworn to pick up the copy he had pre-ordered for her at their local bookstore and ship it to her.

Now, she was twice as glad that she had asked him to do so. Not only would she get to read the newest installment in her favorite book series while at camp, but it had also provided her the perfect opportunity to meet someone new, judging by the way that Clive's eyes kept darting back and forth between her and the book. Best of all, he didn't look sad anymore, the tears gone from his eyes.

Her mother's words echoed in her ears. The best way to connect with someone is to share a part of yourself with them.

She only hesitated for a moment before grabbing the book out of the box and handing it to him. "Here. You can read it first."

He balked. "I can't do that. You just said you've been looking forward to this. I can't take that from you."

"It's fine," she waved his protest away. "Like I said, I've been re-reading the other books. I'm not done yet, so I won't be able to start for another few days." It was a bald-faced lie. She must have re-read all three books twice over since she had come to camp, but he didn't need to know that. She was eager to read the next book, but she had spied her opportunity, and she wasn't going to let it go, tenacious as a dog with a bone. "You should read it first, and I'll read it after you, and then maybe...we could talk about it?" She did her best not to sound desperate and failed miserably. Jill could talk about her books for hours on end if given half a chance, and in this, she had an excuse to talk to him again. Not just one, but two full conversations with someone new, and with it a chance for a friendship to blossom.

Jill was desperate for a friend.

"I'd like that," he said softly. Jill beamed. She had never had the chance to share a book with anyone before.

Which did actually bring up one concern of hers. "I just have one rule - you can't bend the pages," she told him firmly. She had checked out too many books at the library and opened them up to find them torn and folded. "My mom always says that boys are rough with their books. I don't want it all dog-eared."

"I'll be nice to it, I promise," he said, and there was a lilt of teasing in his voice when he said it, but not the cruel kind. It only made the smile on her face grow wider.

When they both turned back to their breakfast, Jill felt more settled than she had in years, able to enjoy the easy silence rather than agonize over it.

That didn't make the next few days any less tortuous.

She didn't see him much over the next couple of days - her cabin was scheduled to canoe around the lake the next day and have lunch on a nearby beach, and she was too exhausted to look very hard for him at dinnertime. Neither did he seek her out, and Jill began to wonder if he had changed his mind, if he decided not to bother with discussing the book with her and would simply drop it off on her doorstep when he was done - or worse, not return it at all. She did her best to distract herself from these thoughts. She had no idea how fast of a reader he was - it might even be a couple weeks before he finished the book.

Even knowing this, the wait was still agonizing.

She actually caught sight of him the next morning, and took a couple hesitant steps towards him. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could sit next to him during breakfast and ask him how the book was so far, or ask if the awful cliffhanger from the last book had been resolved yet.

Looking over at his table, she could see that it was full already. He was sandwiched between a younger boy with a mop of messy blond hair and an older, dark-haired boy who was laughing boisterously. The whole of the rest of his table was already packed full of other campers.

She turned away, trying to tamp down on her disappointment. She just had to be patient and believe she'd get her opportunity to talk to him again. Instead, she found the nearest empty seat several tables away and loaded a pancake from the stack onto her plate, keeping her head down and listening in to the campers around her chat.

She wasn't even halfway done with it when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned to see him standing behind her, less shocked by the contact than she was by his presence in the first place. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but the two boys she had seen near him earlier were nowhere to be seen.

"Here," he said, and placed her book back into her hands. "Don't worry, I didn't bend the pages. Thank you for letting me borrow it."

Before she had a chance to respond, he practically fled the scene. Jill tried not to let her despondency peek through. She had been hoping that he wanted to talk about the book, but it seemed like he was disinclined to continue the conversation.

That was when she caught sight of the little yellow piece of paper sticking out from between the pages. She carefully thumbed open the book to find not a misplaced bookmark, like she expected, but a sticky note pressed between the pages. It had been carefully placed so he could draw a line near the top of it, directly beneath the line of text on the page. On it was written the words, I'm dying to know your opinion on what this could mean in blocky text.

Jill slammed the book shut with more force than was perhaps necessary. The girl next to her was staring at her with a curious look in her eyes. "What was that about?" she asked.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, and then added on, "I think I have a new pen pal."

"Oh," the girl said, like the revelation wasn't the ground-shaking, earth-shattering thing that it was. "Neat."

"Yeah," she echoed, still in shock. "Neat." It felt like the understatement of the century.

As soon as she was alone back at her cabin, Jill sat with her legs crossed on the bunk and carefully opened the book once more. Its pages were full of dozens of sticky notes - some of them sharing Clive's opinions on something happening in the book, some asking for her own, some simply sharing a story that the passage had made him think of. Jill ran her fingers reverently along one of the notes, as careful not to bend them as he had been with the pages of her book. These notes were important to her - a sign that someone wanted to reach out to her, to connect with her as badly as she wanted to connect with them.

Tucked between the first page and the cover was a letter, written on nice stationary and with her name on the front.

Jill,

Thank you so much for sharing your book with me. I've really been looking forward to reading the next book in the series, and I'm so glad you gave me the opportunity. Thank you for your kindness.

I hope you end up loving this book as much as I did. My dad has some old books where he used to scribble his thoughts in the margins, but I thought you would appreciate me writing in the book about as much as me folding the pages, so I added a couple of sticky notes so I'd remember what I wanted to ask you about later. I hope that's okay.

Enjoy the book! Please come and find me when you are done and we can talk about it.

Thank you,

Clive

There was a drop of fresh moisture on the corner of the letter. It was only when she sniffled that Jill realized it was from her own tears. She shoved both the book and the letter away from her so they wouldn't be stained.

She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so seen.

It took her a while to stop crying, but this time, it felt cleansing, purifying, rather than tears born of grief and loneliness. When she finally managed to calm down, she sought out her counselor to ask for a pad of sticky notes and a pen. She had a lot of work to do if she wanted to catch up to him.

Jill was a fast reader for her age, but not nearly as swift of a writer. She considered each of his notes carefully and wrote slowly and neatly to make sure it was legible, giving each note the proper time to respond to it. She asked questions when he shared a story about his life, responded to the excitement and disappointment he showed at different points in the story, debated him on certain points of text. She added in her own notes, too, marking them with a star in the corner so he'd know they were new instead of just responding to his own.

Finally, she took the letter he had written to her and expanded on the map he had drawn on it. At first, she just added in the girl's side of the camp with her own cabin pointed out, but then she started adding in extra landmarks and her favorite spots in camp. She hoped that he'd be willing to see them together with her once all this was over.

It was late the next evening once she was finally done, and her counselor was gathering the girls together to head to the restrooms to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. She probably should have waited until the next morning to track Clive down at breakfast, but now that she was done, Jill couldn't dream of sleeping with so much nervous energy crawling beneath her skin.

Instead, as the group headed down the dirt road to their closest restroom, Jill slipped away from the pack in the twilight and snuck over to the boy's side of camp.

It didn't take her long to find his cabin by following his map. She got a little lost shortly after passing the fire circle, but she traced the path with her finger and soon found herself back on track. Soon, she found herself standing directly outside of the indicated cabin. Now that it was mostly dark, the porch light was on, and a couple of moths flitted around it curiously.

Jill struggled to hold on to the bravery that had seen her this far. All of the courage that seemed to fill her when she had initially snuck out threatened to flee, but Jill steeled her nerves. She had come this far - she couldn't turn back now.

She took a deep breath, counted to three, exhaled, and then climbed the stairs to knock on the door.

It wasn't Clive that answered, but instead a tall man - an adult. A counselor, she thought. Jill froze, suddenly worried she had the wrong cabin. She had imagined all sorts of scenarios before she had decided to sneak out here, but for some reason, she had never imagined the possibility that she'd run into anyone other than Clive. She stared up at him looming over her, moon-eyed, and found herself completely unable to speak or move.

Though he was frowning when he answered the door, his gaze quickly softened at the sight of the young, wide-eyed girl standing petrified on the stairs of his cabin. "You're not supposed to be on the boys’ side of camp this late," he said, his voice gentle, like he was trying to soothe a startled animal. "Do you need help finding your cabin?"

It took a moment for her voice to unstick from her throat. She tried her best to remember why she was doing this, why this was important, and tried to sound more confident that she felt - and failed miserably. "I know I'm not supposed to be here right now," she squeaked, cursing her nerves silently, "but, um - is Clive here?"

The sound of footsteps reached Jill's ears, and then suddenly, a familiar face was poking through the door, ducking underneath the counselor's arm to stand before her. His dark hair lay only partially flat, like he had recently taken a comb to it but done a poor job of it, and he held his toothpaste and toothbrush in one hand. "I'm here," he said. His smile immediately set her at ease. "Hi, Jill."

"Hi," she breathed, smiling tentatively back at him.

It took her a moment to remember that they weren't alone, and her eyes darted over Clive's shoulder. Behind him, there were several boys, most of them at their bunks, and all of them staring at her like she had grown a second head. Not used to so many eyes on her, Jill shrunk back a little, but stopped short of actually stepping back. She took a deep breath and hugged her book to her chest just a little tighter, remembering all the wonderful things he had written in her book, and tried to let it steady her.

His counselor was also still looking at her, though he didn't share their wide-eyed, confused looks. Instead, there was a glint in his eyes that was amused, indulgent as he looked between them, like he was delighting in something they didn't yet know about.

At the sight of her hesitancy, he turned his head to look at the rest of the cabin, still gaping at the two of them. "All right, you lot," he said, with a gruffness that sounded forced. "Stop gawking. Let's head out."

Clive's head jerked to look up at his counselor, but he quickly turned his gaze back to her as he ushered her down the stairs to stand to the side. The other boys in the cabin filed out. They made no attempt to hide their stares as they passed by. Jill dipped her head and stared down at her shoes. If they were going to look at her funny, then at least she didn't have to see it.

Finally, when the sound of their footsteps crunching on the ground faded away behind the sound of the breeze through the pines and the soft calls of night animals, Jill finally found the courage to look up at him, but even in that moment, doubt crept in. She had snuck out here, against the rules, to meet this boy who she barely knew. Her counselor was probably worried sick, and she would be in trouble when she returned, all for an uncertain acquaintanceship. Why would he want to hang out with her, to be her friend? He probably saw that same, broken thing in her that everyone else did, and was annoyed that she had bothered him when he was getting ready for bed.

But then she clung the book just a little closer to her chest, and remembered all the notes he had written within. He had taken the time to do that for her , had probably thought long and hard about what he wanted to say, about what he wanted her to know about him. After having written so many notes in return, she knew how time-consuming it was - and you didn't do that for someone you weren't the slightest bit curious about. That you didn't want to connect with, at least a little bit.

Even if she hadn't found that source of strength, his next words eliminated her misgivings.

"Did you finish the book?" he asked eagerly. When he spoke, he stepped forward slightly, his attention fully on her.

"Mm-hm," she responded.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"I really liked it," she breathed, and she wasn't talking just about the words written on the pages. "Liked" didn't even begin to cover it. She didn't know how to even begin to describe how much his own words, written on sticky notes throughout the novel, had meant to her. She had loved the book itself, too, but the fact that he wanted to be her friend meant more to her than any fairy tale ever could, because it was real . "I really, really liked it," she repeated, because she didn't know how else to tell him.

Then, came the harder part. Thanking him for writing to her was all well and good, but returning the book back to him, with her own notes written within, was much harder. It felt more vulnerable, letting him read her own thoughts and feelings in return.

But hadn't he taken that same risk with her? The best way to connect with someone is to share a part of yourself with them.

So Jill steeled her nerves and held her hands out with the book clutched in her fingers. "Which is why I think you should re-read it," she said in a rush.

Clive's brow furrowed, and his head tilted just slightly. "I've already read it once," he said slowly. "I don't want to take your book away from you all over again."

Jill shook her head, and shoved the book at him again, so hard that it collided with his chest. "I really think you should re-read it," she insisted, and there was a hint of desperation in her voice. She had spent all that time writing him notes so she could get to know him better. If he refused the book now, any chance at a blossoming friendship withered.

With great caution, Clive accepted the book from her. He still had that same confused look on his face when he thumbed the book open - but he froze as the pages fell open. He flipped through a couple of the pages, the notes still within, and Jill felt her heart stutter in her chest.

And then, he smiled. A small, soft thing, just down at the pages of the book, more for himself than for her, and Jill's heart went from frozen in time to racing. He had seen the notes that she had left in place, had seen her own, and it had made him smile , like he was actually happy to see her reach back out to him.

It meant everything to her.

"You're right," he finally said, closing the book with great care and holding it against his chest. He looked directly in her eyes as he spoke. "I think I should re-read this - the writer is really good, she probably has a lot of really interesting stuff to say that I might have missed the first time around."

Jill's eyes started to water, but she swallowed thickly to try to dispel it. She knew he wasn't talking about the author of the book, but she didn't know how to respond to such kindness. This was the first time that anyone had ever cared so much about her opinions, had actually wanted to hear what she had to say. She didn't know how to express how much that meant to her, but she knew she shouldn't be crying. This was a happy moment.

But as much as that meant to her, what he said afterward meant even more. "It might be a few days before I can give it back to you," he said falteringly, "but my brother and I are going to check out the archery range during free time tomorrow. Do you want to join us?"

She could no more stop herself from beaming at him that she could stop the stars from twinkling above them, because this was it - what she had always dreamed of. Being able to reach out to someone, and have them reach out to her in turn - and with it, a chance for friendship to slowly bloom. "I'd like that," she finally whispered.

And when Jill finally fell asleep that night, still dancing on air despite the stern scolding she had received from her counselor for sneaking out, she rested with a smile on her face and a lightness in her limbs that she hadn't felt since she had left for camp.

"Your friendship transformed me," Jill said as she reached the end of her tale. "I know it must seem like such a small thing to you, what you did for me that day, but I was so shy as a child, so used to being sidelined and pushed away. It got to the point where I thought it was better to shut myself away from the world and be lonely rather than risk the pain of rejection again."

Jill tilted her head just slightly and took a deep breath before continuing on. "But then you reached out to me. You wanted to be my friend. You saw something in me that no one else did, something that I had lost sight of, and fought to bring it to the forefront. You saw value in who I was, and you were so lovely to me that I started to believe it, too. With it came confidence - to be myself, to let others in. To reach out to others in turn, and yes, to fail and to be rejected sometimes, but that same confidence helped me to pick myself up and try again - because I knew that if someone as kind and clever and wonderful as you cared about me, then I couldn't be worthless. And eventually, with time, I was assured enough that I didn't need to lean on you anymore to hold onto that confidence - but I have never forgotten that you were the one who gifted it to me."

Her confession knocked the breath from his lungs, and for several long moments he found himself unable to speak. "I did that for you?" he finally whispered hoarsely.

"You did," she said, and gave him a shy smile. "You still do."

He stared at her, awed and humbled in the face of her admission. He had known that Jill had struggled to befriend the other kids at camp, but had never realized that it had been to such an extent, nor that she felt that he had given her the courage to start to build those other bonds. He was floored, honored that he had been able to help her find her voice, that she felt that he had helped her grow into the confident, poised, and captivating woman that sat holding his hand before him today.

For several moments, he didn't know what to say, but eventually, he found the words. He reached out with his free hand and seized hers, so he was holding one of her hands in each of his.

"Jill," he said, with desperation in his voice and a wildness in his eyes. "I want us to be friends again."

She looked at him with something akin to shock. "What?"

"Let's be friends again," he said passionately. "You've changed my life so much for the better. It sounds like you feel the same. Don't you want that back? To get that feeling back from when we were children?"

There was an awed look on her face as he spoke. She leaned in a little at his words, like they anchored her, like she wanted to cling to him.

But because they were so close, he could see the moment something changed, the moment she prepared to refuse him. She broke away from his gaze, but there was something pained in her eyes, something that soured in her face before her expression started to close off again, going carefully neutral. She started to lean back and draw away from him. It was just like that evening after Kihel had run away.

His hands tensed around hers - not enough to hurt her or prevent her from withdrawing if she really wanted to, but enough to get her attention and to discourage her from pulling back from him. "Please don't," he whispered raggedly. "Don't shut me out again."

"Clive..." she mumbled, shaking her head, still not looking at him.

"If you don't want that, then just tell me," he said. It pained him to speak the words. "Just...please. Tell me what's wrong."

Her hands tensed in his, but finally, she stopped leaning back. She let out a breathy exhale that bordered on a sob, and when she returned her gaze to his, there was something raw and hurt in her eyes.

"It's not that," she whispered. Clive stroked the backs of her hands in soothing circles, silently encouraging her to continue despite the fact that it was clear that the words pained her deeply. "Clive, that little girl who helped you feel that way, who helped to support you and help you grow - she's been gone for a long time, and the person she's left behind in her place isn't half so gentle. I want so, so much to be that girl for you again, to go back to those halcyon days, but there's so much that's changed since I was her. Her compassion, her thoughtfulness, her selflessness - I don't have them in me anymore. They've been wrung out of me by this cruel world. That girl is long dead - if she ever even existed at all."

Jill gave a shaky exhale, and she dropped her eyes down to their joined hands. "I wish I could forget it all for a while," she murmured. Her thumb traced over his fingers, a motion he suspected was more to soothe herself than him.

Clive's heart went out to her, not in the least because he knew exactly what she was talking about. Looking back on the summers of their childhood, he couldn't deny how much he had changed since then - and how much he felt his younger self would have probably been disappointed in who he had become. Coming back here was supposed to help him feel better, to start the healing process and help him recapture part of that childhood innocence.

And it was helping, he realized. Not so much with the healing - Clive still found himself unable to confront all of his memories of Joshua, despite the fact that this place was drowning in them - but something about this place was good for him, he suspected. It reminded him of his younger days, of the person he had been, the kind little boy who just wanted to protect his brother and help his friends, instead of the adult weighed down by all of his sins and mistakes. It almost made him believe that he could be him again - it made him want to try to be him again. Here, it all seemed so clear who he wanted to be. The road to get there was less certain, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted to walk it. To be better.

He wanted Jill to have that same certainty, too - especially because she had no small hand in bringing up that feeling in him.

Her head was still dipped low and turned away. Clive gently squeezed her hands to bring her attention back to him. "Then do it," he implored her softly.

She looked back at him, and her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

"Forget it all for a while," he said.

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I don't think it's that easy."

Clive looked to one side, away from the fire, out into the darkness creeping its way in between the trees. Out in the distance, an owl cooed. "There's something about this place," he murmured, looking up at the starry sky above them, the fire to their opposite side, before his eyes fell back upon her. "We're so far away from civilization. Everything else feels so far away. And...it brings me back to the way things were when I was young. Before all the worries of the outside world brought me low. Do you feel it too?"

She considered his words for a moment. "I know what you mean," she replied softly. "There's something...magical about this place."

"I feel the same," he said with a smile. "Everything out there feels so complicated, but sitting here, with you, it all feels so simple. So why don't we let it be? Why don't we just forget about everything else outside of this place? We can go back to who we were before. If you can't face the adult, just let yourself be the girl you used to be."

"Reconnecting with my inner child, huh?" Jill said with a wry chuckle. "It can't be that easy, can it?"

"It can," he insisted. "We can just...go back to the people we used to be. Be friends just like we used to be. We can have another summer together, just like we'd always planned to."

Jill's eyes dropped back to their hands, and the smile on her face wavered. "And...after the summer?" she said hesitantly. "We'll have to leave camp and go our separate ways. I don't think it'll be as simple to pretend to be the girl in your memories out in the real world. Would you still want to be friends then? Knowing that we might be different people? That I might be different?"

His hands flexed around hers and he drew them a little closer into his lap, drawing her closer in the process. Her eyes darted back to his. "I will always want to be your friend," he promised, his gaze intense. "I don't want to lose you again. I won't deny that everything is more complex out there. I don't think I'll be the same person out there that I am here, either. So if it's too much to handle right now, we can worry about it later. We can deal with the after the summer part...after the summer is over, I suppose. What do you say?"

A myriad of emotions danced over Jill's face, and he counted each one. First thoughtfulness, then resistance followed by hesitance. There was no small amount of heartache in her expression, brought on by whatever had brought her so low over the years, but also a growing longing - for their childhood, for the girl she once was, for their bygone friendship. For him?

He wasn't foolish enough to latch onto the hope that thought brought with it, and instead brushed it away, instead focusing on her as her face settled into determined acceptance.

Jill nodded slowly. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, let's do it." And then, with very little warning, she threw herself forward, wrenching her hands from his to wrap them around him. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she drew him into an embrace, and he gladly folded her into his arms.

"Thank you, Clive," she whispered. Her breath tickled his neck as he reached up and stroked his fingers through her hair, running it down her back. "For being my friend. And for everything else."

Looking down at her, nestled against his chest with her eyelashes fluttering closed, a profound fondness took root in his chest, radiating out, practically glowing beneath his skin. He swallowed thickly, suddenly worrying that if he spoke, something in his voice would give it away, that she would be able to read it like it was etched upon his skin, hear it in the drumbeat of his heart, when even he didn't know exactly how to express it in words.

All he knew is that he wanted her to know how much she meant to him, how highly he thought of her. Even if she struggled to see how exceptional she was, he wanted her to understand how exceptional he thought she was, so that she might be able to take the feeling inside her and start to believe it herself, just like she said he did for her when they were young. But he didn't even know how to express the feeling verbally, how to make her understand such an all-encompassing sentiment. Instead, he just held her all the tighter against him, closed his eyes against the encroaching darkness, and let the feel of her in his arms and the smell of wildflowers in her hair chase away all of his worries.

It wasn't until much later, after they had finally released each other, after Clive had walked her back to her cabin and bid her good night, after he had made the long trek back to the boy's side of camp, that the perfect idea finally struck him.

Blackthorne was awoken by a horrible banging in his head and on the door. He groaned as he stumbled from his bed, banging his foot on a stool and swearing colorfully as he fought to maintain his balance.

He squinted out the window, and grumbled when he saw how low the sun was in the sky. He had always been more night owl than lark, to the point where he normally skipped breakfast in the mess hall with the rest of the camp, instead preferring to subsist on coffee from a pod machine that he kept in the arts and crafts building. Most of the staff and counselors knew not to bother him until after the morning meal was complete.

With the sole exception of whatever dumbass was banging on his door at this ungodly hour. Whoever it was, they had better be grateful that he didn't sleep in the buff while at camp like he did at home. Blackthorne wrenched open the door to shoot his early-morning nuisance a glare that would have withered leather.

Outside stood Cid's protegée, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and his entire cabin of boys who looked like they wanted nothing more than to crawl back into their bunks and sleep for another couple hours. One of them was leaning against the railing lining the stairs up to his hut. He was pretty sure that he had fallen asleep standing up.

"Good morning," Clive chirped, chipper and cheery despite the horrendous hour. "We're here to learn how to make friendship bracelets."

Blackthorne slammed the door in his face.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Clive had a day off scheduled about midway through the second week of camp. As he had with his day off the previous week, he sat down to breakfast with the boys in his cabin, slowly eating a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and a munching on a piece of toast with peanut butter as Torgal sat at his side, staring up at him with pleading eyes as he begged for a taste. Technically, his time off had started at dawn, and he could have done anything he wanted after that point, whether it be sleeping in or leaving the camp or hiding himself away in one of the break areas. It felt a little strange to leave before breakfast or to eat in the kitchen, so instead, Clive ate in the mess hall with his cabin group, then handed them off to Cole and Oscar for the day and said his goodbyes, letting them know that he'd see them tomorrow before heading out to the office.

He stopped by Jill's table on his way out, where the campers at her table were still picking over their breakfast. Jill had the last remnants of a banana peel on her plate, her waffle long gone. Instead, she watched the girls work through the last of their meals as she sat back and sipped a mug of tea - Earl Gray, he suspected. She had told him that she had developed a fondness for it as she grew older.

He had learned a lot about her in the past few days. They were both busy people, minding kids and taking care of the camp, so their conversations were few and limited, but they found a way to make time for each other after their talk at the campfire. It was important to both of them - to revive their old friendship and find that inner child both in themselves and in each other. There had been a tinge of awkwardness in their previous interactions, as each danced around the person they remembered the other to be and the knowledge that they had changed. The time and distance between them bred doubt about whether the other truly wanted to revive their friendship.

Now, with the affirmation of their shared admiration that night at the campfire, they harbored no such doubts, and both were eager to renew their acquaintanceship. They found scattered moments throughout the week to converse - he'd pass by her table after meals in the mess hall just to exchange a few words and catch up on her plans for the day, or she'd find him during free time and help him with his boys. He started writing her short letters, just to ask how she was or reminisce on old memories, and she was always quick to respond. Once, their breaks during free time lined up, and they had forty-five glorious minutes just to sit on the steps of her cabin and talk. They were even planning to take their cabins on a nature hike together next week, since their kids seemed to be getting along so well.

And with that limited time they had together, they began to slowly rebuild their friendship and relearn each other. He learned that she preferred tea to coffee, but had a fondness for those sugary caffeinated creations from the drive-through coffee shops. Jill still had a sweet tooth, after all these years, and she almost always kept a bag of candy stashed in her locker in the counselor's cabin. She was still a voracious reader, with a love for tales of fantasy and adventure, but had developed a fondness of mysteries and thrillers - anything to offer her a sense of escapism. (She had gone quiet after that comment, her eyes focused on where she was trying to dig a bit of dirt out from beneath her thumbnail, but her gaze was distant and unfocused. Clive quickly changed the subject to ask if she had ever learned to crochet like she had said she wanted to many years ago, which caused her to immediately perk up and tell him about her cross stitch project.)

It was as comfortable as slipping into a well-worn sweater. Even if they only had a few minutes for each other every day, they found ways to make those minutes count. Those stolen moments bred familiarity, and that familiarity brought fondness and warmth to their interactions, along with a cozy sense of nostalgia. It was as if they had been waiting for the chance to return to each other's lives, and now they were able to fall right back into their old friendship, all the years and cares and hurts melting away in favor of their renewed companionship.

He lay a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't jump at the contact, likely knowing that he would seek her out after he finished eating. Instead, she turned and beamed up at him. The sight of it flooded him with warmth, and he smiled down at her in return, unable to help himself.

"Hey," she said softly to him. Several of the girls at her table turned at the sight of him and waved or shouted their own 'hello's in chorus. Kihel, in particular, greeted him with a wide grin before going back to shoveling hash browns into her mouth. Clive raised a few fingers on his free hand in greeting before turning his soft gaze back down to Jill, who was still looking up at him. "What are you still doing here?" she asked curiously. "Isn't today your day off? I thought you'd be hiding away from the campers by now."

"I love my campers. Why would I hide away from them?" he asked, and the table responded with a series of "awww"s.

"Wolfie's going sappy," Aimee teased.

"Wolfie's always sappy," Crow proclaimed.

"Hush," Jill scolded gently. "It's rude to interrupt when adults are talking to each other. Besides, I happen to like his sappiness." That merited no small amount of oohing and aahing from the table which made Clive flush, but they slowly went back to their meals. Still, Clive was very aware that there were ten curious little eyes and ears only pretending to be focused on their breakfasts - and doing a rather poor job of it in the process.

"I'm actually about to head out," Clive told her. "I'm going to borrow the camp truck drive into town. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

Jill shook her head. "I think I'll be fine. Thank you for offering, though," she said to him. Then, her hand came up to rest over his own that was still placed on her shoulder. "Drive safe, will you?" she implored, her eyebrows knitting together as she looked up at him with a worried expression. "The winds have been picking up the past few days, and you know how twisted the road down the mountain is. Apparently we're expecting a storm sometime in the next few days. Be careful on your way down."

Her concern touched him, and he gently squeezed her shoulder in response. "I'll drive slowly," he assured her. "I just wanted to pick up a few things in town before the storm hits - I'll be back before nightfall. I'll come find you when I get back so you know I made it safe." He lowered his voice and his head when he spoke again, mindful of the girls pretending not to listen in on their conversation. "Do you want to take a walk later, after lights out?" he murmured, quiet enough that the campers at her table couldn't hear. "If you can get away, that is."

He was close enough that he could see the red starting to creep up her neck, but her cheek turned up as she smiled, too. "I'll see if I can make my escape," she whispered back before releasing his hand. One of the girls leaned in to try to catch what they were saying, and Clive removed his hand from her shoulder and leaned back before she could glean any fodder for the camp gossip machine.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," Clive said to the girls. "See you later, Star," he repeated to Jill.

"See you later, Wolfie," Jill replied, even as the girls nearly drowned her out with a chorus of, "Bye, Wolfie!"

He waved to his own campers on his way out of the cafeteria to head down to the office to talk to Cid. They were disappointed to lose him for the rest of his day off, but they knew that he'd be back by tomorrow. There had been complaints when he had told them that Cole would be in charge for the day, but he assured them that he'd see them again soon.

He hadn't thought it would be this way when Cid first hired him. He thought he'd frighten his campers away, that he'd be avoided by both the kids and most of the adults once the camp session started, put off by his intimidating demeanor and looming form. He thought they'd be delighted to be without him for a day, and would wish him gone for weeks at a time, preferably the entire camp session. He never expected them to care about him, to want to be around him, to actually be sad when he left. Instead, after the incident with Kihel, they seemed eager to spend time with him and to learn more about him - not just his kids, but the other campers and counselors, too. He suspected it had to do with the length of the camp session - as the days passed by and they got deeper into summer, the entire camp was settling into its routine, and as the unfamiliar location and situation became comfortable, they became more at ease with stepping outside of their comfort zone and getting to know him - and, to his great surprise, they seemed to decide that they actually liked him.

He still wasn't quite sure what he had done to earn their admiration, what with his frightening face and gruff disposition. All he knew was that it was a nice feeling - to know that he was going to be missed, even if he was only going to be gone for a short while. It made him look forward to returning to the camp after his day off was over rather than dreading having to go back to work.

Though Cid's door was open when Clive stepped into his office, he still tapped on the doorframe to announce his presence. Cid looked up from where he was working on his laptop - the camp office was one of the few places in the camp with dedicated wi-fi, allowing Cid, Otto, and Desiree to connect to the outside world and keep the camp running on a day to day basis. Most of the rest of the camp was a dead zone for both cell phones and the internet.

"Hey, Cid," Clive said by way of announcement when Cid caught sight of him.

"Clive," Cid greeted him back. "I thought today was your day off. I hope you're not still looking for work. You need to take a break sometimes, you know."

"I'm not. I'm going to spend the day relaxing, I promise," he responded, holding his hands up defensively even though he was smiling. "I’m hoping to borrow the camp truck," he told Cid, returning his hands to his sides. "I was going to drive down the mountain and spend the day in town."

"Sorry, lad, no can do."

Clive's brows furrowed at Cid's immediate proclamation. Cid had promised him use of the camp truck if he needed it when he first came up to camp. He had been too distressed to make the drive on his own and had admitted it to Cid - the stress of starting a new job combined with the anxiety of returning to the place of so many memories that he knew would bring an equal amount of nostalgia and pain with them had his hands shaking before he even went behind the wheel of his car. Cid had suggested he drive up with the rest of the group, insisting upon it for his safety once he had seen the state he was in, with the promise of the camp truck being his to use when needed.

"Is someone else using it?" he asked Cid. He had thought he had seen it out in the parking lot just beyond the camp gates when he was swinging by after breakfast, but perhaps someone else had claimed it for the day.

"That's not it," Cid replied. "The high winds up on the mountain knocked a tree across the road on the way into camp. No one's going to be getting in or out until it's cleared."

"A tree on the roadway?" Clive asked. "Isn't that a safety hazard? What if there's a fire - how would we evacuate?"

"It is a safety hazard - and a massive pain in my arse," Cid grumbled, carding a hand through his hair. Clive could see the way it was mussed and the haggard expression on his face - it looked like he had been working to resolve this problem for some time and wasn't liking his options. "The good news is that they're going to send a fire crew to clear the tree off the roadway. The bad news is that everyone has been busy preparing for the storm that's about to roll in - clearing trees, setting up sandbags for flash floods. Battening down the hatches, as it were. All emergency services have their hands full trying to prepare, and they're probably not going to be out to take care of it until late this afternoon - possibly not even until tomorrow morning."

That was a problem - both for Clive himself and for the camp as a whole. "What do we do if something happens in the meantime?" he asked.

"Pray that it doesn't," was Cid's only response. "They'd have to airlift the whole camp out of here, and I can't imagine they'd be quick about it. At least it should be gone well before the storm begins. Thank Greagor for small graces, I suppose."

"Yes," Clive agreed uneasily. The camp would probably be fine until morning, most likely - but it did pose a conundrum for Clive.

Cid looked back up at Clive. "Sorry about the camp truck," he told him sympathetically. "What were you going to do in town? Was it anything important?"

He should tell him the truth. He should be honest about what he was going to do in town. Cid was his group therapy leader, his mentor. He'd understand if he told him.

But one look at the drawn look on Cid's face, the dark circles under his eyes, and Clive knew he wouldn't. He couldn't imagine how busy Cid had been once he had heard news of the fallen tree, the logistical nightmare of trying to find someone to clear it on short notice, of how many ways the camp must be out of compliance right now just due to a quirk of the weather and how Cid was trying desperately to fix it. Cid was busy and stressed enough already - he didn't want to burden him with this when this was Clive's mountain to climb, his own path to walk.

"Nothing important," Clive lied. "I just wanted to get away for a while. Needed a bit of a break - a change of scenery, I suppose."

Cid's eyes went sympathetic, but not suspicious - thank goodness. "I see," he said. "Sorry I can't get you out of here for a few hours this time - I'll make sure the truck is clear for you on your next day off. In the meantime, the counselor's cabin should offer some peace and quiet, or there are some hiking trails that aren't normally used by the campers. I'm sure Gav can direct you to them - it'd be a welcome change from the camp itself, and the kids wouldn't bother you." Clive knew what he was implying - that he knew that Clive was fighting his own personal demons just by being at Camp Bennumere, and he wanted to give him a break from the location by getting him out of the places that would trigger those old, difficult memories.

It wasn't exactly the issue that Clive was wrestling with at the moment, but the sentiment was appreciated all the same. "Thank you. I may take you up on that," Clive said graciously before excusing himself.

He decided to take Cid's advice and head up to the counselor's cabin, though not for the reasons that his mentor had suggested. He trudged through the camp, carefully avoiding the mess hall where the kids were probably leaving breakfast by now to their morning activities. He knew from the schedule that his cabin had originally been scheduled on the water that morning, but it had been canceled due to the high winds. The valley where the camp was located was protected from the worst of the wind, but the breeze whistling through the pass still churned the water, making it hard to canoe and even harder to see a swimmer over the small waves. Instead, they had swapped at the last minute for a short hike with Gav outside of the perimeter of camp. With that in mind, he also avoided the main exit out of camp as he found the path up to the counselor's cabin.

The counselor's cabin was in an isolated part of camp, up a hill and buried in the trees. It wasn't exactly a secret, because everyone in camp knew about it, but it was impossible to see from the main part of camp, obscured by the thick, ancient pines and up a steep, winding path. It took several minutes to hike up to it, but the remoteness made it feel like it was a hundred miles away from the bustling summer camp. The sounds and sights and smells of the camp all faded away the closer he was to the cabin. He knew from experience that the only sounds from camp that would reach them was the bell calling the campers to dinner and the emergency alarm.

Contrary to the rumors that the campers spread amongst themselves, there was little that was exciting about the counselor's cabin. It was one of the few places in camp connected to wi-fi, and there was even an aging desktop computer, though most of the counselors simply chose to use their phones if they needed the internet. There was a shower with a locking door, as opposed to a curtain like in the main camp's restrooms, and a separate room with a few bunk beds made up to rest in. Lockers lined the walls - the camp staff had all been assigned a locker for their stay here to hold any personal effects that they couldn't keep around the campers, like cell phones, car keys, and more. There was even a washing machine and dryer for those who didn't want to use the camp's laundry service. Mostly, the cabin was just used as a break area during the counselor's rest periods - a place to relax away from the bustle of camp where they knew they wouldn't be bothered by the campers, with a few added creature comforts not available to the campers and those on duty.

Clive didn't come up here very often, instead opting to seek out Jill during his free time or meet with Cid. The cabin was deserted when he first entered it, which wasn't surprising - most of the counselors were with their campers this time of day, and it was only those with days off like himself or taking a break during the camper's free time that would frequent the cabin.

He made a beeline for his locker, spinning the lock to input the code and pulling it open. He only kept a few items in there, the first of which was his cellphone. He booted it up to check his messages. There was nothing particularly exciting - a message from his bank reminding him that his credit card would autopay on the first, another email from the military about rejoining the reserves, which he quickly deleted, and more mail from the VA reminding him about his group therapy appointments, clearly set up by some automated system that didn't know that he had temporarily paused the group therapy sessions while away at camp.

There were also several text messages from Jote, but that was to be expected. He didn't look at them and set his phone aside instead. If it was anything pressing, he had given her the camp phone number and instructed her to call it. He would have heard about it if there had been an emergency - the young nurse was as tenacious as they came, and he didn't doubt that she would have driven right up to camp if the matter was important enough.

Instead, Clive reached for the bottles of pills in the back of his locker and began to count.

First came the migraine medication. He only took it when he felt one coming on, so his use of it was irregular, and he had gotten a refill just before coming to camp. He had only experienced one since coming to camp and had caught it early, so the bottle was still well-stocked.

Next was his sleep aid, a medication not only to help him fall asleep, but also to soothe his dreams. He had struggled to fall asleep for years in the military and even more so afterwards, haunted by guilt and shadowed by the things he had done. What happened after he finally found sleep made him no more eager to rest, for when he did finally manage to fall asleep, he'd wake up shaking and gasping for air from the nightmares. It had taken some work to find the right one - one had given him sleep paralysis, which certainly hadn't helped his nightmares, while another one had made him sleep so deeply that he had once slept through his apartment's fire alarm, though thankfully it had only been a test. The current one was a fair sight better than both of the previous - though he found he missed dreaming, for it seemed to either make him forget his dreams or not have any at all, it was far better than night terrors or sleeping through an emergency.

This one, thankfully, was also full. He had spoken with his doctor before leaving for camp, and he had happily written him a prescription that would let him pick up three months at a time. He would have plenty of those even after the camp session was over.

Clive held his breath as he reached for the third and final bottle, this one in an opaque red bottle rather than a clear orange one. It was, in his opinion, the most important bottle of the set - his anxiety medication. He took it twice a day, once with breakfast and once with dinner, more or less twelve hours apart. He had gone through several different pills with his doctor, trying to find the right type and dosage. Some types hadn't been strong enough, leaving him still jumping at shadows and shrinking away from the slightest thing that reminded him of his time in the military. Others had numbed him to everything around him, dulling his senses and slowing his reaction time like he was on tranquilizers.

It had been a relief when the doctor had finally prescribed this one and it had started to kick in. It was the first one that Clive had felt himself on, the first time he had felt himself in years, if he was being honest. He still felt anxious at times, but they were times when it was appropriate to be nervous, and it allowed him to function at a level approaching normalcy. Before, he had kept a prescription bottle of medication meant to stop a panic attack on him at all times, because the smallest things could send him spiraling. Now, he couldn't remember the last time had refilled that prescription.

The bottom of the bottle rattled ominously when he shook it. He held his breath when he popped open the top, hoping his ears had somehow deceived him, but when he peered in he could see that they hadn't. There were only a few lonely pills at the bottom of the canister. He pulled his pill divider out of his coat pocket and opened it too, but there was only one more of that one left, too.

Silently, Clive began to count. Four in the bottom of the bottle, one in the pill divider - only five left. He took one with breakfast and dinner, roughly twelve hours apart. He had enough for two and a half more days - Founder, not even enough to get him halfway through the week.

Clive tapped his fingers against the metal of the locker as he stared down at the bottle and debated what to do. He had asked his doctor to write a note for an extended prescription, so he could pick up extra before camp and have enough to last throughout the camp session, but he had kindly refused him. He couldn't even if he wanted to, he said, for that particular medication was heavily regulated, and they wouldn't let him pick up more than a month's worth at a time, and he couldn't pick up more than a week before he was supposed to be finished with the previous bottle. One way or another, he was going to be forced to pick up more before the end of the camp session, and Clive had begrudgingly moved the prescription pickup location to the town closest to camp.

He should have been picking up today, should have made the drive into town to refill his prescription, which would have just barely lasted him until the end of the camp session. Now, he had two and a half days left on his anxiety medication and no more days off until next week.

For a moment, Clive debated asking Cid to take a sick day. The camp director had said that the road would be cleared by tomorrow morning - he'd ask Cole or Dorys to pick up an extra day for him so he could make the drive down and pick up his meds. Cid would probably understand - he led his group therapy sessions after all, he could probably guess that a good chunk of his group was on some sort of mood medication. He didn't doubt that he'd give him the day to get what he needed.

Still, Clive hesitated. He didn't like the idea of taking a sick day because he wasn't actually sick. He felt fine - a little nervous about how empty the little red pill bottle was, but that was a normal reaction to running low on his medication, the same reaction that anyone would have. It wasn't fair to ask another to take on the burden of his work so he could take an extra leisure day.

He considered the pill bottle carefully and took a deep breath, turning his thoughts inward to document how he was feeling - mindfulness, Cid called it. Physically, he was well - even the bruise on his chin he had earned searching for Kihel last week had faded. His emotional well-being was more up in the air, and he considered it carefully. He had been doing well ever since he had started taking the pills - better than he thought he would ever be again. He no longer suffered from panic attacks except in the worst of situations, no longer felt like every little thing would drag him down into the depths of his bad memories. He wasn't foolish enough to think he was cured, but he had been doing better than he had been doing in a long time. If he was doing well, shouldn't he be strong enough to survive without his meds for a few days?

Clive poured the contents of the bottle into his hand, his decision made. It would be a test run, he decided - a chance to see how well he was actually doing without the effects of his pills. Still, he'd space them out rather than stop taking them entirely. He knew that medications such as these could cause withdrawals if he stopped taking them suddenly, so he fiddled with his pill divider for a moment, debating on how to split them up. In the end, he decided to take his evening pill the day before his next day off, and one in the morning on his day off - at least if everything went wrong, then he'd hopefully be feeling stable enough to drive by the time he was supposed to leave for town. The other three he placed in the "morning" slot for the next three days, like he was weaning his body off of them.

He looked down at the pill divider, satisfied with his work. He was feeling good about it. The sight of the three days in the middle made him nervous, but it was to a degree that he thought he could handle. In fact, he felt proud of himself for sorting it out. Perhaps the pills were training his body to feel normal again, and he'd find he wouldn't need them once he was off of them, having learned how to feel like himself once more without the training wheels. If it went well, maybe he'd talk to his doctor about going off of them entirely.

He tried to hold that thought in his mind, but there was a sense of uneasiness as he tossed back that morning's pill with a swig from his canteen. He did his best to ignore it as he locked the now empty pill bottle back into his locker and headed back down to the main camp, planning to take a hike and then enjoy some much-needed rest.

It didn't take long for him to regret his decision.

As per his plan, he skipped the pill he normally would have taken with his evening meal. By the time camp fire was over and the counselors were making the call for lights out, Clive was already feeling twitchier than he normally would be. Jill noticed as soon as he picked her up for their walk and asked him if he was well. Clive shrugged her concern off and told her he was fine, and though the expression on her face said she didn't believe him, she didn't press the issue. He felt bad for disappointing her when he ended their walk early - on any other normal night, he would have been intently hanging on to her every word, but as it was he found himself struggling to focus.

He did remember to walk her to her cabin door and wish her good night, and she stroked her hand over his shoulder and told him to rest up and feel better. He took a deep breath and tried to absorb her strength, the steadiness that her touch brought him. He was going to need it if the next few days were going to be like this.

And oh, they were. By the time the morning meal came around, Clive was a shaky mess. He had barely touched his food before he threw back the pill, eager to feel its calming effect. It helped, and he sighed in relief as he finally felt it begin to kick in, settling his nerves. Still, he didn't feel quite as soothed as he should - after all, he had another night of unmoderated emotion coming up.

That was how the next two days went - his mornings were better, but as the evening crept up on him he felt his nerves spiking. He stopped seeking out Jill - not because he didn't want to be around her, because he thought her comforting presence might be one of the few things that might help him feel better, but because he didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want her to know what he was like at his worst - he was already scared enough that the wrong move might drive her away, and his anxiety pills' absence didn't help to soothe his nerves on the matter.

The fourth day was awful. By that point, he had run out of the pills he'd usually take in the morning, so couldn't even look forward to their soothing effects kicking in as his morning meal wore on. His boys were scheduled for archery that morning, which had to be one of the worst possible things. They picked up their bows and sent the arrows flying through the air. Even if it was steady and rhythmic, the whirrrrrr-plunk of each shot reminded him of projectiles whizzing through the air, of bullets striking flesh rather than the arrowheads burying themselves into targets.

When the boys started to jokingly aim their bows at their fellow campers and pretended to shoot at them, arrows undrawn, Clive barked out a reprimand, harsher than he had intended. The boys shrunk back, and Clive immediately felt bad - he had worked so hard to gain their trust and make them comfortable with him over the past few weeks, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he could lose that trust with just one wrong word. With his intimidating face and looming form, it would be easy to frighten them, which was the opposite of what he wanted. Still, he struggled to formulate an apology, his thoughts scattered, the words dying on his tongue.

Thankfully, Oscar stepped in to take over when his words failed him. "Wolfie is right," he told the campers. "Aiming a weapon at one of your friends, even as a joke, is dangerous."

"We didn't even have the arrows knocked, though," Honza replied.

"Doesn't matter," Oscar replied. "It's still dangerous. You could seriously hurt someone, even if it was a mistake. Wolfie and I are here to look out for your safety, and we can't do that if you're threatening each other, even if you're only having fun." Even though he was still feeling scatter-brained, he couldn't help but be a little impressed by Oscar and his handling of the kids. It was moments like these that Clive had to remind himself that he was a junior counselor and was only nineteen, practically a child himself.

The campers sighed, but they eventually agreed with Oscar. "Sorry, Shepherd. Sorry, Wolfie," Arthur said. "We were just having fun. We didn't mean to make you worry. We won't do it again."

"It's fine," Clive said, still feeling shaky. "I just want you to be safe. Just...don't do it again."

"We won't," they chorused, and went back to their targets, keeping their bows aimed directly at the shooting range and not each other this time around.

Oscar sidled up next to him as they watched the boys. The sounds of the arrows whizzing back through the air was back, leaving Clive's brain on pins and needles. "Hey, man. Are you all right?" Oscar asked. "I've never seen you lose your temper with them like that."

He couldn't tell him what was happening. He couldn't. He promised himself he would push through this, and he didn't want to let on that he was struggling. Besides, he only had a couple more days of this. He could do this.

But the sight of projectiles in the air, even if they were different from the ones in his memories, still set him on edge. "I'm fine," he finally whispered back. "Just...having an off day. I'll be fine in a little while. I think I'm going to sit down for a while if it's all the same to you."

"Take your time," he said. "I'll keep an eye on the boys."

And so Clive stepped out of the archery range. He specifically moved away from the roped off area at the back of the archery range, where stray arrows would be flying in case one of the boys missed the target. He moved away from the range until he could no longer hear the whir of arrows slicing through the air, couldn't see them firing at the targets. He moved off the path and placed his back to a tree, sliding down to the ground and resting his head in his hand, counting his breaths until his heart stopped racing and he could start to make sense of his tangled thoughts. It took some time, but by the time the boys were exiting the archery range, talking and laughing, Clive felt composed enough to rise from his spot on the ground and rejoin them.

But as bad as the fourth day was, it was nothing compared to the fifth.

He felt it as soon as he woke up. It was like someone was taking an ice pick through his skull, pounding away in rhythm with his heart. When he opened his eyes, the meager light coming through the thick clouds pierced his pupils, making the pouding pain in his head ten times worse even with the spots in his vision. When he moved to turn over onto his side, the nausea hit him - violently. Heedless of the pain, Clive jerked out of bed so suddenly that Oscar was shaken awake on the other bunk.

"Clive?" he called, confused and shocked enough to forget that he wasn't supposed to use his real name, but Clive ignored him, fighting the sheets tangling around his legs and bolting from the room as soon as he was free.

He only barely made it to the restrooms on the boys side of camp, collapsing to his knees and losing the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Even when it was empty, he continued to dry heave. Every time he tried to move, another wave of nausea would hit him and it would start all over again. Eventually, he just settled for resting his head against the rim of the toilet seat, not even caring about how unsanitary it was, and let the cool of the porcelain soothe his fevered brow.

It took a long time for the feeling to finally pass, but when it finally did, he became aware of a quiet knocking on the stall door. "Clive?" Oscar called, clearly worried.

For a moment, Clive didn't respond. He swallowed thickly, gagged, but didn't start heaving again. He reached out to flush the toilet before very slowly tilting back to sit on his rear rather than his knees, his back to the side of the stall. His stomach rebelled, and he exhaled slowly, allowing it a moment to settle.

Oscar's feet were still peeking out from under the door of the stall, and Clive could see him shift his weight nervously. Finally, he reached out slowly to the lock of the stall. His hands were shaking badly. It took him four tries to successfully undo it and pull the stall door open.

His junior counselor's face peeked warily around the door of the stall. Oscar looked surprisingly calm for someone who had been listening to him puking his guts out for the past several minutes. Clive was surprised - even he would have been a little green around the gills after that, but Oscar seemed to take it all in stride. Instead, he looked down at Clive, calm and concerned.

"You look like sh*t."

"And you're supposed to be with the boys. They're not supposed to be unattended," Clive croaked. He turned and spat into the toilet. His mouth tasted terrible. He needed some mouthwash or his toothbrush, but he didn't think he could stand to use either without throwing up again. Thankfully, his stomach was beginning to settle the longer he sat on the cool floor of the restroom. Unfortunately for him, it brought the pain trying to smash its way through his skull back to the forefront of his mind. Though the morning air was cool, he felt flushed even as he shivered.

"They're middle schoolers. They can figure out how to put their clothes on and get ready for the day without me hovering over them. They're fine to be left alone for a few minutes," Oscar said. He went down to one knee before him. Clive tried to duck his head so he couldn't look him in the eye, but Oscar followed him, his expression worried. "I'm serious, Clive. You look awful. Are you alright?"

"Yes," Clive said automatically, and far too quickly to be truly convincing. He tried to stand, but his stomach rolled again, and a worrying darkness crept up around the edges of his vision. He sat back down and rested his pounding head against his knee. "No," he amended reluctantly. "I think I must feel as bad as I look."

"I can believe it," Oscar replied. "I've never seen you so pale."

Clive licked his chapped lips. "I think I need to take a sick day," he said weakly. He hated the idea of taking a day off. He liked spending time around the boys, around the other counselors, around Jill when he got the rare opportunity to. He didn't want to give up another day of it, especially when the summer was so short, and particularly when it was his own weakness keeping him from it. If only he could push through this moment, he could get back to it.

But right now, he didn't feel like he could push through it. He wanted to lay in bed and sleep through until his next scheduled off day. He wanted his head to stop hurting and his stomach to stop rolling and his hands to stop shaking. He wanted to be healthy and himself again, without jumping at shadows and worrying about his trauma haunting his every thought, just waiting for the next moment to rear its head and ruin his life. He wanted to take his next pill.

Unfortunately, none of those things were going to happen. He hated that, and he hated himself for it, too. The only remedy he had was to separate himself from the camp for the day and hope he would feel better by tomorrow.

"I think that's a good idea," Oscar told him. "I'll tell Cid you're not feeling well. I can handle the boys at breakfast until he can find someone to watch them with me. Do you want me to get Tarja for you?"

Clive shook his head - too vigorously, because the motion left him dizzy. He took a deep breath and focused on Oscar, letting his face be the center of his vision until the spinning stopped. "I'll be fine," he said. "I think I just need a day to rest. I'll be right as rain by tomorrow." He hoped it was true.

Oscar looked a little uncertain, but he didn't fight him on the topic. "All right," he finally said. "Go get some sleep - and take something for that fever, too. Feel better, Clive. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Clive responded woodenly, and Oscar withdrew from the bathroom stall, leaving Clive sitting on the floor, still leaning back against the partition. Clive reached up and locked the door behind him.

He sat like that for some time, his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the wall. He heard the boys, both from his cabin and others, filing through to use the other restrooms and wash up before breakfast. Some of them were chattering idly, but most were quiet, teenagers still yawning and dragging their feet in the morning as they fought off the last vestiges of sleep. Clive blocked out their conversations, even when he heard his nickname come up once or twice. It was nice to know that the boys cared enough to be concerned about him when he didn't help to wake them up in the morning, but he didn't have the energy to listen to the camp rumor mill.

It was only long after the breakfast bell rang and all the boys had shuffled their way down to the mess hall that Clive finally felt well enough to move. Most of his dizziness had faded, and the worst of his nausea had dissipated. He slowly made his way to his feet, but his stomach didn't roll, and he didn't keel over. He still felt weak and shaky, and still shook with a chill, but he could finally walk under his own power.

His first stop was by his own cabin. The campers were long gone, though their bunks were still a mess. It was difficult to convince a teenage boy to make his bed, and though Clive had done the best he could to remind them every morning at first, there were always a few that were left unmade by the time they left for breakfast. Eventually, he had just given up. As long as there were no tripping hazards or anything they could get caught on, they could leave their bunks as messy as they liked. They were the ones sleeping in them, after all, and would have to deal with the consequences if they slept on a lumpy mattress because they had stored and forgotten their dirty clothes under their blankets.

He didn't spend much time in the main cabin, and instead made a beeline for his own bunk. He changed slowly, methodically, taking breaks when the pounding in his head grew too strong and he needed to sit on the edge of the mattress and take a break. He grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas out of his suitcase and slipped an old, well-worn sweatshirt over his head. It was threadbare after years of use, but warm and comfortable on his over-sensitive skin. He was still shaking from chills, but at least he'd be protected from the wind.

His second stop was the mess hall. He briefly considered not going at all. The campers would be in the cafeteria, having their morning meal, and he didn't want to risk them seeing him in such a state. Instead, he snuck in through the back entrance to the kitchen to fetch a thermos of coffee. He unscrewed the lid and sipped on it slowly as he made his way up to the counselor's cabin.

It was a longer hike that he remembered, and far more difficult. The trail up the hill was moderately steep, with multiple switchbacks carved into the side of the slope as it wove between the trees. Still, he had never struggled with it before. The walk had always seemed easy to him in the past despite how steep it was, but now, feverish and dizzy and ill, what had once taken minutes now felt like it was taking hours. He was forced to stop several times on his way up the hill to take a breather, resting his back against a tree or sitting down on a convenient rock when he started to feel dizzy again. He looked down at the camp in the gaps between the trees, watching as the thick clouds in the sky grew darker and heavier and listening to the wind pick up and whistle through the branches.

He made it to the counselor's cabin just in time, for as it came into view, he felt the first mists of the rain begin. He held his hand out, palm up, to feel a couple of drops strike his skin. He hurried into the cabin just as it began to rain.

The cabin was climate controlled, and with the warm, muggy air stagnating outside, it was several degrees cooler and less humid inside compared to the outdoors. Clive shivered as the cool air hit his flushed skin even as he delighted in it, leaning back against the door before reaching for his thermos again. He fumbled with the cap before finally managing to unscrew it to take a sip. Thankfully, it was still hot, though it did little to touch the chill within him.

Instead, he returned to his locker, punching in the combination to the lock and swinging it open. He dug through his pockets, emptying his personal effects into the locker. He paused momentarily when his fingers touched his pill divider, slowly drawing it out of his sweatshirt. He stared down at the plastic container and the two little pills he had set at the end of the week.

He could end his torment right now. He could take one of his anti-anxiety pills and settle his nerves immediately, wipe away the withdrawal symptoms he knew he was struggling with. He'd feel better once it kicked in and be able to go back down the mountain with much less trouble than he had going up it. He could rejoin his boys and Cid and Jill and forget this whole ordeal.

And then...what? He'd only have one pill left, and he'd still need to make his way back down the mountain when it was time to pick up the refill on his prescription. Besides, though he knew taking his meds would make him feel better, he doubted they'd make him feel better that fast. He'd probably need the rest of the day just to recover from this trial, and he'd still be back in the same boat tomorrow.

No, he thought decisively. The first day would be the worst, and then tomorrow would be better once he adjusted. It would still be awful, and he'd still be a scatter-brained, anxious mess, but he wouldn't be ill anymore, and he could push through until his next off day. He had to.

He tossed his pill divider into his locker without taking one of the pills out. Yes. He'd take the day to rest and take care of himself, and wake up feeling better tomorrow.

Instead, he reached for the bottle with his migraine medication, as well as a bottle of over the counter painkillers. They worked best when they were taken before the migraine started, but he still hoped they'd have some effect and give him a bit of relief. He'd shower and then try to rest. Hopefully, by the time he woke up again, he'd feel a little more human. He swallowed both pills with another swig of coffee before latching his locker shut once more and heading for the shower, locking the door behind him.

Clive turned up the water as hot it would go and hissed as he stepped in. It took a moment for him to adjust, but once he did, he dunked his head underneath and closed his eyes, focusing on the sear of the water rolling off of his skin rather than the pain in his head. The heat of the shower couldn't compare to the fever brewing beneath his skin, and he still found himself shivering.

He hated this. He hated how he didn't feel human without his pills, how stopping them left him sick and anxious and mean. He had thought he was getting better, that he was improving, was well enough to exist in polite society once more. The pills helped to mask that broken thing inside of him, the thing that had cracked further and further with every deployment, that had shattered when he had received the news about Joshua, too scattered and jagged to ever be put back together again. It had been a while since he had last been off of his medication. He had forgotten how bad it was - and how bad it made him act. He hadn't meant to shout at the boys yesterday, but his anxiety had been at a peak, and it had just slipped out before he could stop himself.

Sometimes, he wondered if that was his true self - if he was just as cruel and bitter as his mother deep down, and that broken thing had brought it to the forefront. Sometimes, he wondered if he was more his pills than he was himself - if they helped to cover up the natural state of himself, masking the person he truly was in favor of someone more presentable. Maybe it was the pills that made him a better, kinder person - the kind of person that Jill admired and wanted to be her best self for, and his true, callous self wasn't worth caring for at all.

He stood under the shower for a long time, letting the water run down his face. Like this, he didn't have to think about whether the moisture was coming from the showerhead or his own eyes.

But eventually, the water began to cool, and Clive let out a shaky exhale. He sniffled as he reached for his shampoo to wash his hair, and chose to believe it was from the hot water knocking loose some congestion.

By the time he emerged from the shower, Clive was feeling much more human. Though his head still hurt and his skin still burned and his hands still trembled and he still felt terrible, he no longer smelled like sweat and vomit, which was a fair sight better than he had been an hour ago.

He hung his towel up on a hook on the outside of the restroom door before stepping into the room adjoining the main section of the cabin. There were a grand total of four bunk beds in the side room, complete with blankets and pillows. Though he had been asleep just a little earlier, Clive was exhausted. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget everything that was happening and wake up feeling better.

Clive picked the bed tucked into the corner furthest from the door, wanting to be as far from prying eyes as possible and with a wall at his back to feel safe. He reached up to strip the covers off the top bunk, stealing it to layer over the first one on the bottom mattress. He climbed underneath both blankets, though he was still cold despite the thick layers of wool between him and the air. He pulled them up over his shoulders and settled in. He'd rest for now and hopefully feel better when he woke up.

Yes. He'd feel better when he woke up.

With that final thought, Clive closed his eyes. The rain steadily pattered away on the roof of the cabin, and Clive finally slipped into a fitful sleep listening to the rhythmic beat.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Clive was awoken by the sound of an explosion.

It crashed somewhere in the distance, reverberating through the mountainside and making something clatter in the next room. Clive jerked on the mattress, his head flying up off the pillow before immediately gasping in pain as his head throbbed at the sudden movement. He lifted a hand and placed it at his temple, blinking to try to alleviate some of the pressure even as he looked wildly around, trying to determine what had happened.

For several moments, it appeared that all was well. The rain outside had grown fearsome and was now pounding against the roof and the window panes in the next room. He remained very still, his heart hammering in his chest, his ears straining for the sound of screams or collapsing buildings, but couldn't hear anything.

He was about to chalk it up to his imagination, a nightmare-induced hallucination of his delirious, fever-addled brain, when it happened again. This time, he saw the flash of the explosive go off through the doorway to the next room, felt the tremor go through the cabin as the walls shook.

Without hesitating, Clive ducked his head back under the blanket and pressed his face back into the pillow.

He knew what this was. The Waloeder army, trying to flush him out of hiding. They were setting off bombs, hoping to make him flee his hiding spot so they could shoot him down.

Unluckily for them, Clive had played this game with them before. He knew what to do.

He hunkered down as far as he was able, his body pressed as flat as he could manage against the mattress. He pulled the blankets up over his head so he was completely covered, so if anyone happened to peek their head in they would be unable to see him.

Another explosion went off that made everything around him rumble. Even though he wanted to jump and flee, he kept still, kept his head down even as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. All he needed to do was wait for his unit to come and find him, and then they could fight their way out.

Clive hated this part - the waiting. His mouth was dry, his head hurt, his body felt numb. Was he bleeding? He wasn't sure, but he knew blood loss could cause a loss of sensation. Still frozen in place, he tried to catalog his body, searching out any strange pains, but the only one that he could find was the one in his head. It almost felt like it was migrating, not sitting behind his eyes, but piercing through his left cheek. He turned his head, pressing his skin against the pillow. If he was injured, then at least he could try to staunch the bleeding.

Feeling the threads of the pillow against his cheek was a strange sensation. He had never had a pillow in Waloed - he had always slept on his lumpy pack. On some level, he was aware that he wasn't there. He had left that life behind long ago, had returned to Storm when the information had come through about Joshua. He had been working for Cid, had come to camp to help out with the kids. Why would there be Waloeders here?

The thunder crashed again, and the question fled Clive's mind in favor of self-preservation. He pressed his cheek against the pillow a little harder and tried to recall the coping mechanisms his therapist had taught him.

None of them sprang to mind. All the breathing practice, all the exercises about clenching and relaxing every part of his body one by one, had fled his brain. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he could focus on that wasn't fleeing his hiding place straight into the arms of the enemy.

Clive's eyes focused on the stitches lining the pillowcase. It was hard to see with his head buried in the darkness under the covers, but he could just barely make them out in the dim light peeking through the threads of the blanket. He began to count them - slowly, rhythmically, trying to keep in time so he didn't count too fast or too slow.

One, two, three, four...

The blankets resting on top of him seemed to weigh heavier on him the longer he lay there. He had to force himself to breathe, to keep his ribs expanding and contracting to keep inhaling through the weight trying to crush them.

...fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...

The blanket was getting heavier - because it wasn't a blanket at all, but hundreds of pounds of rubble, burying him from the enemy's sight even as it pinned him in place. He couldn't move at all, or it would shift above him and crush him flat.

...sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six...

Biast hadn't inhaled in a long time. Clive was pretty sure he remembered feeling him breathing when the Waloeder foot soldiers had passed by, when Biast has whimpered in pain and Clive had pressed his hand to his mouth to keep him quiet. He had felt the puffs of breath against his palm, seen his wide, panicked eyes when he finally released him when he heard their footsteps crunch away. He had heard him cry out when the bomb had gone off and the building came down around them, seen the way Biast has thrown himself over Clive as the ceiling came crashing down and trapping Clive beneath him. He wasn't sure when he had stopped moving, but he couldn't think about that right now. All he could think about was being still and quiet despite the hammering of his heart and the shaking in his hands, staying silent until their unit found them and dug them out.

...Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two...

There was a stitch on the shoulder of Biast's uniform, one of the stitches he had been counting, that seemed to be coming loose, a break in the thread that if not repaired would eventually lead to a hole forming in the binding. He'd have to remind him to repair it when they got back. After all, a soldier who didn’t keep his gear in shape would quickly become a dead soldier

Hm. The frayed thread had made him lose count, breaking the steady rhythm he had set as he stumbled over the number in his mind.

Better start again.

One, two, three, four...

This time, he was in a broom closet, newly returned from Waloed. The hospital, he realized. Outside, the wind howled, and thunder rumbled in the distance. He was curled up in a ball at the bottom of the closet, trying to be as silent as he could, because if he made a noise, then the doctors would find him, and he wouldn't be able to flee the news then. Instead, he stayed very quiet, counting the bristles of the dirty broom right in front of his face.

...Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...

A door swung open somewhere, and Clive froze, just barely breathing. His palms and face were soaked in a cold sweat, but he didn't move at the sound of footsteps. Just one person - no, two, but the second had a strange gait, like they were walking on four legs instead of two. He kept his steady pace counting stitches to keep himself calm.

...Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one...

"Clive?" A woman's voice called out. She was looking for him - and even worse, she knew his name. She suspected he was here and was trying to coax him out, as if she wasn't trying to tell him the news that would shatter his life. Clive didn't respond, focusing on the stitches he could barely see in the low light.

Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five...

Both sets of footsteps were getting closer. He could hear the light scraping of claws on the floor. Clive held his breath.

...Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three...

Something touched the top of the blanket that he was buried under. Clive was so focused on not moving that he didn't even jump in surprise. Instead, every muscle in his body clenched as he prepared to spring out of his hiding spot. If they had found him, he wouldn't go down without a fight. He'd take as many of them down into hell with him as he could, he'd go out raging.

But it wasn't a hand that reached out to rip him out of his hiding spot, but instead a cold, wet nose that burrowed under the covers, snuffling and ruffling his hair with dog breath. Torgal gave a low whine and licked his sweat-soaked face. Clive was still frozen. He couldn't move, didn't even try to shove Torgal off of him as he attempted to worm his tongue into his mouth.

There was another person that was with him, alerted to his presence by Torgal seeking him out. A pair of hands reached out for the edge of the blanket to peel it down over his face. His hands were still in claws, his knuckles white as he gripped it to keep it pinned to the mattress so he could remain out of sight, but she was able to pull it down just far enough to reveal him from the cheekbones up.

"Clive?" Jill asked, her voice worried as she peered down at him. "Are you all right?"

Get down! He wanted to scream. They're going to find you! Get to cover and stay still! He wanted to protect her, too.

"Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight..." he mumbled instead.

"Oh, Clive," Jill whispered, her voice soft and full of sorrow. She reached out to touch him, but hesitated before her fingers made contact with his cheek, her eyes sympathetic.

Instead, she stood from where she was kneeling. "Stay right here," she told him. "You too, Torgal. Stay with him."

Don't go! He tried to tell her. Fleeing was the worst thing she could do at this point. It would practically guarantee that she would be found. Stay here and I'll protect you, he wanted to say, but even in his addled state he wanted to laugh it off. He couldn't even protect his own squadmates. How could he hope to protect her?

Instead of saying any of that, he kept counting stitches as she stood and left the room. Seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven...

He didn't know how long she was gone for - it felt like hours, but it was probably only a minute, because Torgal stayed with him, his chin resting on the bed as he watched Clive. He gave a low whimper once and nudged Clive's shoulder with his nose, but Clive didn't respond.

...Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four...

Eventually, Jill did return. He heard her walk back through the door and crouch by his side. She was holding something in each of her hands. One of them was a smartphone cradled in her right hand, her eyes focused on the screen as she scrolled through with her thumb. After a moment, she found what she was looking for, and reached out to him with her left hand. He wanted to pull back, to tell her that he didn't know what he'd do if she touched him, but he was too frozen to even flinch.

Thankfully, she didn't do much other than tuck something into his ear - an ear bud, he realized. It was already playing music. He didn't recognize the song, and the melody didn't register in his brain. He felt like he was underwater, and everything was muted. The lyrics were a muffled mess, and the higher notes were lost on him completely, but the low tones came through clearly. The bass was slow, moody, almost sultry, like something he could imagine at a nightclub, his body pressed intimately up against someone else's.

"You hear that?" Jill asked. The music wasn't loud, so he could hear her over the steady, thrumming beat. The tempo was slower than the one that he had been counting stitches to, and he quickly lost count of how far along he had been on the pillow. He couldn't remember how to respond to her, but he stopped silently mouthing numbers and licked his lips.

Though he didn't respond, Jill saw the small movement of his mouth. "It's good, isn't it?" she murmured. "Focus on it. Why don't you try breathing along with the beat? In for four, hold for four, then out for four. I'll do it with you."

At her count, Clive took a shaky inhale. It wasn't steady, with several hiccups in the middle where he forgot to breathe and had to suck in air, but he managed to hold his breath for a full four beats before exhaling.

"Good," Jill praised, her voice soothing. "Let's do it again."

She led him through the breathing exercise several more times. Each time, it got easier. Though his heart was still racing and his chest still felt tight, he managed to breath through it steadily by the third time. By the sixth or seventh, he was continuing the process on his own without having to be directed by Jill, and by twelfth, the song was starting to come through a little clearer in his ears.

"You're doing so well," Jill praised warmly, though he didn't have it in him to take pride in being able to do something as simple as breathe . "I'm going to take your hand, Clive. It's all right."

He did jump this time when she touched him, but Jill was undeterred. She didn't take offense as she gently uncurled the fingers of his right hand from the blanket they had been clutching for dear life. She was confident but not forceful, giving him every opportunity to pull away, but he didn't. Her assured touch comforted him - though he didn't know what she was doing, she seemed at ease, sure of what she was doing as she placed his palm on Torgal's head and released him.

"What do you feel?" Jill prompted, and Clive focused on the feeling of the dog under his palm. Torgal had a plush coat and was brushed frequently by Cid, which made his fur as soft and shiny as it was thick. He curled his fingers to dig them into the fur a little bit, then stroked them back and forth over the dog's head. He focused on the feeling of each individual hair sliding beneath his fingertips, of his hand rising up and down slightly as Torgal panted.

Clive swallowed thickly before moistening his lips once more. "Torgal," he mumbled hoarsely, and Torgal yipped in response. He sidled up closer to Clive, and Clive let his hand stroke down Torgal's neck to tangle the ruff of fur between his shoulder blades.

"Yes," Jill said, and he could see her smiling in his peripherals. "Very good. Let's keep going."

This time, she reached down and produced another object that she had set on the floor when she had first arrived - a thermos. She unscrewed the top and held it out to him. "What do you smell?"

She held it back just far enough that he had to scoot his cheek off the pillow to catch the scent. He hesitated for a moment, still worried that he was going to bleed out if he moved, but then picked up his head. His cheek throbbed fearsomely and it felt like his skull weighed a thousand pounds, but he felt no tell-tale trickle of blood skating down his skin. He leaned forward to take a whiff - something tangy mixed with something else spicy and aromatic, and he inhaled deeply, trying to pull the words from his muddled brain.

But more than that, there was another scent that called to him in the mix, something softer, sweeter. The delicate fragrance brought a wave of nostalgia with it, and the term sprang to the front of his mind quicker than any others.

"Wildflowers," he sighed, resting his head on the edge of the mattress. The smell reminded him of a youth long past, of a meeting in the moonlight with only the trees to hear them, of a warm hand in his own warding off the ice around them, of an affectionate embrace with arms clasped tightly around each other as the fire burned down low.

Jill's brow furrowed. "It's an herbal tea," she said, confused. "Kenneth said it was ginger and lemon." She leaned forward to give the thermos a suspicious sniff, as if suddenly questioning what had been poured inside.

"No," Clive said. He released Torgal and reached out to take her arm in his shaking hand. He leaned forward again, past the thermos, and pressed his nose to the inside of her wrist, inhaling deeply. "Wildflowers," he repeated, still unable to find the words to explain himself but wanting to take in more of the intoxicating aroma. He rested his head against the inside of her arm to breathe it in.

"Oh," Jill whispered, her face turning red - but, thankfully, she didn't pull her hand away, allowing him to take in the scent of the fragrance she carried upon her skin.

It took a moment and several more large inhales before he found the strength to raise his head, doing his best to pluck the words from his addled brain. "The pill divider," he mumbled drunkenly. "The one in my locker."

Though what he said was mostly nonsense, Jill seemed to understand. "What's your locker combination? I'll get it for you."

"My birthday," Clive mumbled in response. Her hand slipped away as she stood, and his brow furrowed as he tried to recall the correct sequence of numbers that would let her in. He wracked his brain, trying to remember as she left the room, but before he could retrieve the information, she had returned, the blue pill canister in her hand. "This one?" she asked.

Later, he would wonder how she had gotten his locker open. The only information he had given her about the code was that it was his birthday, but he hadn't told her what day it fell on. Long ago, they had celebrated his birthday at camp every summer, for it fell in the middle of the camp session. The kitchen crew would bake cupcakes, and she and Joshua would make him little cards and gifts with the supplies from the arts and crafts hall and they'd commemorate the occasion. They were better than the birthdays he'd had at home before that, and far better than any he had experienced afterwards, but it had been thirteen years since she'd celebrated his birthday. She couldn't have been paying enough attention, couldn't have thought of him often enough that she'd still remember after all this time...could she have?

Later, he'd turn those questions over and over in his mind - but for now, he was too relieved to see his pill divider in her proffered hand.

He popped open the one at the end of the week. f*ck waiting to take it until then. He wouldn't survive the night without it. He tossed it into his mouth and swallowed it down, not even bothering to reach for the thermos of herbal tea until afterwards. She still handed it to him, and he obediently took a couple of sips. To his surprise, his stomach did not rebel against the liquid, and even seemed to settle a little bit with each drink. He cautiously drank a little more. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was - after all, he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the morning, and even then it had only been coffee.

Still, he didn't want to overdo it, and after a few more swallows he handed it back to Jill. His hand was still shaking, and the liquid sloshed inside until she took it in her steady grip and screwed it shut. He rested his head back on the pillow again, still trying to moderate his breathing to the beat of the music thrumming in his ear. He eyed the stitches on the pillow for a moment, debating on continuing to count. It wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was the only one he could think of at the moment.

"Don't go back to that," Jill warned gently. She took the pillow from beneath his head, and he obediently lifted it so she could pull it from beneath him. She tossed it into the corner like it offended her. "Let's do another exercise. What senses are we missing?"

Clive thought for a moment. They had already done hearing, touch, and smell, so only two were left. "Taste? Sight?" he asked.

"Yes. Very good," she said warmly. She had been testing him again, trying to get him out of his own head and back in the present with her, he realized. "Let's do ‘taste’ next," she suggested, once more reaching for something she had set next to the mattress. Clive's brow furrowed. He had done well with the tea, but he wasn't sure he was in the right state to be eating anything.

But instead of anything of substance, she produced a brightly colored plastic bag. It took a moment for him to read the logo emblazoned on the plastic. "Jolly Ranchers?" he realized.

She hummed in confirmation. "They're my favorite," she told him.

"I remember," he replied. It reminded him of that first day he had met her, when she had so kindly shared the contents of her care package with him when all he had wanted to do was bury his head into his arms and hide away from the world as he cried. She had supported him then without even truly knowing what was happening - just like she was doing now.

He felt a little bad to be burdening her with himself once again, but more than that the memory brought with it softness and affection rather than the floundering that his thoughts had been bringing him since he awoke. He clung to it, needing the steadiness that she offered him.

"The blue ones," he finally said. "You always said you liked them best."

"I still do," she told him. "The others are fine, but the blue ones have the best memories attached to them."

The last time he had eaten a Jolly Rancher had been with her, probably during their last summer at camp as teenagers. He remembered the times fondly - their lips sticky and stained all different colors from the candy, sneaking them before dinner despite their counselors scolding them about ruining their supper. The brilliant cerulean of her tongue had entranced him even then. "I like the blue ones, too," he murmured, not referring to the flavor.

"Not to worry," she told him with a smile. "I have plenty." She dug through the bag for a moment before producing one. She didn't allow him to fumble through trying to open it, and instead unwrapped it herself. She placed it directly on his lips, and he obligingly took it into his mouth. His tongue accidentally grazed the pad of her thumb in the process, which he probably shouldn't have enjoyed as much as he did, but she didn't flinch away, only running the pad of her forefinger over the skin there with a contemplative expression on her face as she withdrew.

The sugar practically exploded on his tongue, and he had to blink once or twice to acclimate himself to it. "This is sweeter than I remember," he mumbled. The raspberry flavor was also far more artificial that he remembered, too, but not necessarily in an unpleasant way. The flavor was strong, overpowering, even, but it also brought with the sentimentality for years past even as it obliterated every other distraction in its path.

"They are rather intense," Jill agreed even as she unwrapped a Jolly Rancher for herself and popped it into her mouth, "but I still enjoy them. It's a nice treat from time to time. Makes me think of good times."

Clive smiled against the mattress as he watched her suck on the blue candy. Even though she had grown much since he had last seen her, it was nice to know that in many ways, she was still the same girl he used to know deep down.

He was about to reply to her when a flash of light came from the next room. Not long after came the crash of thunder rattling through the air, and Clive recoiled at the sound, turning his forehead into the mattress and closing his eyes as he was brought back to being trapped under the rubble in Waloed, the bombs going off all around him. He gulped down air, losing the beat to the song that he was breathing to as the headphone fell from his ear. It was only when he nearly swallowed the candy in his mouth whole and coughed around it that he was brought back to the present.

Jill turned him back onto his side and rubbed circles around his back until he successfully tucked the Jolly Rancher into the pocket of his cheek. "It's alright," she murmured. "It's alright, Clive. I'm here."

He focused on the music again, on the feeling of her hand on his back and the artificial raspberry flavor of the candy in his mouth. He counted his breaths and flexed his hands, centering himself with the feeling as he tried to reconnect with his body and ground himself in the present. "The meds will take a while to kick in," he told her as he tried to settle.

"Then we'll wait together until they do," she said firmly. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Here - sit up for me?"

She directed him to lean his head and shoulders up as she stood. He felt bad - she had been crouching on the hard wooden floor of the cabin practically since she had arrived, which couldn't have been easy on her knees. He scooted down the bed to make room for her, but rather than let him curl up to give her space, she sat down right where his head had been. "You can lay down again now," she told him, but she still had to encourage him with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his forehead to lean back again.

Once he had laid back with his head on her thighs, she patted the side of the bed twice, and Torgal eagerly hopped up. Rather than curling up next to him, he climbed on top of Clive and laid down over his chest and legs. Though Torgal was far from a small dog, Clive was surprised to find the weight of him soothing rather than crushing. It forced him to focus on his breathing, really feel the expanse and contract of his ribcage as he inhaled and exhaled. He reached up and scratched Torgal behind the ears with both hands, and Torgal turned to lick at his fingertips before resting his head on Clive's chest.

As he lay on his back with his head pillowed in Jill's lap, her fingers stroked along his forehead and through his hair, and he focused on the feeling. The scent of wildflowers was stronger now that he was laying closer to her. Like this, with his head laying on her thighs and her hair falling over her shoulder, covering part of his field of view and keeping him from the outside world, he was surrounded by her, protected by her. The storm raging outside, the fever on his brow, the memories of the war and that awful rainy morning in the hospital all faded away as his focus turned solely to Jill.

His head was still muddled, and his heart still racing, but even so, he knew that he needed to find a way to distract himself from thinking about her even as his attention came to rest solely on Jill leaning over him.

"Jill," he said as she brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. His voice was still a little hoarse, so he cleared his throat briefly before speaking again. "What are you doing here? How did you find me here?" It wasn't her day off - at least, he didn't think it was - and he didn't think that she would make her way up here otherwise.

Jill looked down at him, concerned. "Clive, you've been gone for the entire day. I asked around, but no one had seen you since breakfast."

Clive's brow furrowed. "The entire day?" he repeated. His sense of time got distorted during his attacks, making it seem like both an eternity and no time at all passed when they started, but had it really been an entire day? Still, he knew she was right. Looking around the shadows of the cabin, he could tell that night had fallen, though whether he had slept the day away or whether it had crept in during his attack he couldn't say.

"We put the kids to bed almost an hour ago," Jill told him. "The storm's been rather rough, and then I didn't see you all day. When I heard you disappeared after the morning, I was worried for you. I asked around before lights out, but the only person who'd seen you since this morning was Kenneth. He and Cid sent me to look for you. Kenneth said you might be hiding up here and asked me to bring you dinner - and if I didn't find you here, to let Cid know so we could call search and rescue."

Suddenly, the full force of her concerned gaze was too much for him to handle, especially with the way she was looking down at him and the way her fingers were tangling in his hair. Clive felt a surge of guilt wash over him. He swallowed thickly and looked down to where Torgal's head was laying in his chest, but the dog's golden gaze seemed worried too and did little to ease his conscience.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as he stroked his hands over Torgal's head. "I didn't mean to make you worry. And...I'm sorry that you have to see me like this, too. I never meant to burden you with it." He had wanted to leave all of this behind when he came to camp, hadn't wanted to drag all of his trauma and stress here with him. He had wanted to live in nostalgia, to try to remember that little boy who had come to camp all those years ago with his little brother, to try to be him again. Instead, he was still the same miserable adult he had always been, still choking on all of his faults - and even worse, now he was dragging Jill down with him.

A gentle touch on his cheek broke through the miasma of guilt taking hold of him. He kept his eyes focused on Torgal, not even sure he deserved to look upon Jill, but her hand cupped under his jaw, encouraging him to turn his gaze up to her own. His eyes met hers, and there was no judgment or pity or blame in their silver depths, only kindness and understanding and - affection?

If it was, he didn't deserve it.

"Don't be sorry," she said softly, her fingers trailing up his cheek and back into his hair. "You're a pleasure to worry about, and I'm glad to do so. I'm just happy that you're safe."

His eyes fell back down to Torgal, who was also looking up at him with those same, soft eyes. He nudged his nose under Clive's hand, almost as if he was agreeing with Jill's words. Their concern touched him deeply.

The thunder rumbled again in the distance, and Clive tensed. His hand trembled and his breath shook as he exhaled, but Jill and Torgal were there to catch him before he could fall back into his memories again. Torgal licked at his fingers even as Jill murmured soothingly to him, trying to smooth out his furrowed brow with her fingertips. He focused on the feeling of his chest rising under Torgal's weight with each inhale, of Jill's fingers on his skin, on the scent of wildflowers surrounding him.

Jill's tongue was beginning to turn blue from the candy in her mouth. The color drew his gaze when she spoke. "How can I help?" she asked him. "I know it might be a while before the medicine kicks in. Tell me what you need."

She was already helping him - more than she realized. Without her and Torgal here, he would likely still be burrowed under the blankets, back in Waloed or in that hospital closet as he tried to hide away from the world. Even if he had managed to get up and get his pills from his locker, which was already a stretch, he probably would have fallen right back into his panic attack without her to pull him out of it. Torgal's comforting weight, her reassuring words and touches, the way she had carefully drawn him out of the worst part of the attack, was already more than he could have asked for.

"Just...distract me," he said, sighing and relaxing into her a little further. "I just need something to keep my brain occupied - until it kicks in. Until the storm passes."

Jill looked down at him, her gaze thoughtful. "Do you know what this storm reminds me of?"

Warzones, one half of him said. Hospitals, the other half argued. "What?" he asked instead.

"The day we found Torgal." Jill looked away from him down to the furry head leaning on his chest. She briefly removed one of her hands from his head to scratch the dog between the ears. Torgal's tail thumped against his legs as he wagged.

"That's right," Clive realized. "It was storming the day we found Torgal. It was such a long time ago. I had almost forgotten."

"Then let me tell you about what I remember about that day," Jill said, and Clive listened as she told her story, entranced and distracted by the flashing blue of her tongue between her lips.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

It had been the wettest, rainiest summer that Jill had ever experienced. Living in the far north, she was accustomed to frigid winters, where snow coated the ground for several months at a time before thawing out into a lush, green spring. Her parents loved to gripe about the snowfall, but she was only a child with no need to worry about digging out the driveway or installing tire chains. She was free to make snow angels and build snowmen and draw snowflakes on the frost covered windows without a care in the world. The summers of the north were cool but dry, with only a short rainy season occurring in the springtime.

She had always thought of summer as a warm time, a time for sunshine and blue skies and reading in the field by her house as the bees buzzed lazily around her. Summers reminded her of swimming in Lake Bennumere, of making it to the top of the rock climbing wall or shooting a bullseye at the archery range, of bending over her favorite book with her favorite person. She associated the feeling of summer with Clive.

That wasn't how she thought of this summer. The rains had begun three days after the bus had arrived at camp and had yet to let up. The deluge had been coming down for two weeks, soaking the campgrounds and forming puddles where there had once been paths. Instead of swimming in the lake or hiking or any of the dozens of fun outdoor activities that normally took place at camp, Jill and the three hundred odd kids had been stuck inside for almost the entire time.

The camp staff tried to make the best of it. The arts and crafts tables were covered by a large tent, so the campers were still able to rotate in to tie-dye T-shirts and make lanyards, and the counselors read books aloud from the library to their campers and organized talent shows and skits. In the evenings, instead of campfire time, they shoved all the tables in the mess hall to one side of the room and set up a projector aimed at the wall and played movies. It wasn't what she expected when she left for camp this year, and Jill wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't bored, but it was time spent with Clive and Joshua that she otherwise wouldn't have gotten, and she was happy for it just the same.

But after two weeks, both the kids and the counselors were beginning to tire out being cooped up inside. The campers - Jill included - were beginning to grow restless and bored of the same activities every day. There were only so many coloring books she could fill out, so many puzzles she could bother to put together, so many hours she could stand to sit by the window and stare out at the raindrops hitting the lake before she wanted to tear her hair out. Only passing notes back and forth to Clive helped to ease the monotony. Even if they had both read her book five times over by now, at least their messages to each other always gave them something new and interesting to discuss.

Finally, after weeks of downpour, there was a break in the storm. The clouds still hung low and heavy over the valley, an angry gray that looked ready to crack open the sky again at any minute, but for the first time since they had arrived at camp the air was dry. The camp staff warned them that the weather report said the worst of the storm was yet to come and would start later that night, but for now, Jill and the other campers were delighted to be outside in the fresh air.

She got the feeling that the counselors were feeling a bit stir-crazy too, for rather than break them up into their cabin groups and assign them activities, the campers were set loose on the camp for a free afternoon to do whatsoever they pleased. The archery range was manned, the rock climbing wall was open, and there was even a lifeguard patrolling down by the lakeshore for anyone who wanted to swim on such a dreary day.

For Jill's part, stepping out into the fresh air for the purpose of enjoying it rather than sprinting to her cabin or the restroom or the mess hall almost put her in shock. She stood just outside the cafeteria, inhaling the scent of rain and pine and petrichor. She nearly felt paralyzed. She had so much she wanted to do and so little time with which to do it. She had no idea how long the next storm would last, and she didn't want to miss a moment at camp even as she could feel them slipping away as she stood there.

It was Clive that finally broke her from her stupor. Her line of sight to the lake was broken by his hand waving in front of her eyes, and she blinked at the sudden motion. "Are you all right, Jill?" he questioned.

She shook her head to clear the dazed expression on her face, glancing briefly over to where he had moved to stand at her shoulder. "I thought it would rain forever," she murmured, turning her face up to the weak light shimmering through the clouds.

"It's supposed to start again tonight."

"I know," she lamented. "Do you think it'll rain all summer?"

"I hope not," Clive replied. "It doesn't usually rain like this during the summer in Rosalith. I thought it would be similar here."

Apparently not. Camp Bennumere was closer to Rosalith than it was to Jill's northern home, but it seemed it was far enough that the weather patterns were different. Then again, in the three prior years that she had been coming here, Jill had never seen it rain like this. She could count the number of rainy days she had experienced at camp on one hand.

"I just wish I could do everything before the storm starts again, just in case it doesn't stop," she sighed. "I don't know what to do first."

Clive tilted his head forward conspiratorially as she looked away from the lake. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a small smile, and she found her own lips turning up to grin back at him. He had that effect on her, his joy infectious so she couldn't resist smiling back. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked curiously.

"Come with me," he said, and led her down the path towards the arts and crafts hut. Jill rolled her eyes when she saw where he was headed - she didn't think she could stand to spend any more time working on crafts. She had done enough of that for one camp session - she wanted to stretch her legs and do something outside.

Thankfully, Clive led her past the arts and crafts area and down one of the lesser used paths in camp. As far as she knew, there wasn't anything particularly exciting about this area of camp - she had always simply thought of it as 'the long way around to the campfire circle', and rarely walked that way unless she really wanted to meander. The road led through a forested part of camp and seemed sheltered away from the clamor of the main facilities.

Instead of following the path on to the fire pit, Clive drew her off the road and into a nearby field, and then further into the woods. "Watch your feet," he warned her as they passed by an ancient redwood. "There's no road here, so don't trip." They carefully picked their way around the gnarled roots of the tree, careful for stones and potholes.

By the time they got to the creek, Jill was thoroughly confused. She didn't know how far they were from the main part of camp at this point, but the entirety of the camp was enclosed in a fence with the exception of the lake. It felt like they had traveled far outside of the camp bounds, though - how could the woods be so deep even within the borders of the camp? It felt like they were a thousand miles away from civilization in the deep woods rather than likely just a couple hundred feet away from the closest pathway or building. And where was he taking them?

Clive hopped over the creek, the water babbling merrily over the stones lining the bottom after the weeks of heavy rain. He reached out to extend a hand to help her across, steadying her shoulders when her feet slipped in the unstable mud beneath her. She looked up at him with a furrowed brow when he released her. "Clive, where are you taking me?" she asked. She trusted him implicitly - she knew that wherever he was leading her was sure to make it worth the trip, but her curiosity was thoroughly piqued by this point.

"Just a little further," he urged instead of clarifying. He took her hand in his and led her behind him towards a gap in the trees. Jill squinted as the woods thinned out a bit, the light filtering through the trees as Clive led her out from between them.

The clearing he pulled her into was unlike anything she had ever seen. The hollow was nearly perfectly circular, and the trees pressed tight around it, leading the watery, gray light from above to shine directly down into the glade. The grass was young and a brighter green than the foliage in the woods, but it wasn't the grass that caught her eye. Instead, it the flowers springing up all throughout the meadow that made her stare in awe. White daisies with yellow centers covered every inch of the clearing, their petals reaching towards the sun, leading to it looking more like a snowfield in the dead of winter rather than a forest clearing at the height of summer.

"Wow." Clive was standing right beside her, and the way he breathed the word practically in her ear sent gooseflesh prickling up her arms.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, her eyes drinking in the sight of the field. "You found this place?"

Clive nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the clearing. "Joshua and I found it last year right before we got on the bus - your bus had already left. I've been wanting to show it to you all year, but it didn't look like this when we were here last. Where did all of these wildflowers come from?"

Jill stepped forward into the clearing and out amongst the flowers. She crouched down and plucked one of the fragrant blooms, raising it to her nose and closing her eyes to inhale the sweet scent, the aroma deeply familiar to her. "Not just wildflowers," she said, opening her eyes and turning to glance back at him. "Snow daisies."

"Snow daisies?" he repeated as he looked at her, mesmerized.

"Yeah," she replied. "They grow on the mountainside near my home, though not every year. They only bloom after a season of heavy rain. My mom says that the seeds can remain dormant for years, just waiting for the right condition to sprout. The worse the storm, the more bountiful and beautiful the blossoms. She says that whenever she has a bad day, she'll look out at the mountain and remember the snow daisies - if they can be resilient, then so can she." Jill had never understood her mother when she said that, but after a storm such as the one they had been enduring for the past two weeks, she was starting to get a sense for what she was talking about.

"Incredible," Clive breathed. He moved up to stand beside her, offering a hand to help her rise to her feet. She kept the flower in her other hand, absently twirling the stem between her fingers. "I wouldn't have guessed that the seeds would be here when Joshua and I found this place."

"You wouldn't have known. It was so dry last summer - but I'm glad you found this place, and I'm glad you showed it to me," she said with a smile.

The two of them spent more than an hour in that field of flowers. There was a flat rock jutting out of the ground near the center of the clearing which they sat on, Jill's toes not quite touching the ground while Clive's feet were planted firmly among the flowers. They plucked snow daisies and Jill wove them into a garland as they talked, which she placed upon his head like a crown. He asked her to show him how to do the same, and so Jill started a second chain of daisies to talk him through it. His braiding technique was sloppy, but he was determined, working slowly to firmly braid the long stems together. He improved quickly, with the chain becoming neater as he worked, the flowers more consistently spaced.

She giggled when she noticed that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. He glanced up to see what was so amusing, but she looked away quickly, embarrassed at having been caught watching him so intently. "What?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," she said quickly - too quickly. "I just think that if you keep practicing, you'll be a better braider than me."

"I doubt it," he replied, turning his gaze back to his garland, still only halfway completed. "Mine is still so messy."

"No, it's good," she insisted. "Messy? Yes. But still good." She took her partially completed-garland and held it up next to his own. "Look. We're both partway done - we can combine them together and make one big chain."

They worked together to weave the two chains together, tucking the stems into place. Jill tightened up the weave on his chain a bit as she went, and by the time they were finished, they held one, fully completed chain cradled between them. There was a definite visual difference in her half and his own, the flowers more unevenly spaced on his side, and her own side with few gaps between the braiding of the stems. Seeing it set in their hands in the space between them made her think that it might have been the best garland she'd ever made - not because it was perfect, but because they had made it together.Her hands tightened slightly around the weaving as she watched his fingertip stroke along a petal just a hair's breadth from her own fingers.

That was when she felt the first raindrop strike the back of her palm. She frowned, looking at the droplet of water slide down her hand. Then, another one joined it, and Clive jumped as one hit his own skin. He drew back and looked up at the sky, blinking as the water hit his cheeks in fat droplets.

"It's raining," he said, sounding a little dazed. Then, his eyes cleared as he looked back at her. The sound of rain hitting leaves was beginning to echo through the forest. "Oh. It's raining," he repeated, and quickly stood from his seat, pulling her with him.

The storm came on quickly - they could hear it as they made a run for the trees, the garland slipping from both his head and their hands as they sprinted. In the short time it took them to reach the edge of the woods, the sky had truly opened up, pouring water down into the valley. Even the trees provided little cover, and Jill shrieked from both the cold and with laughter as the rain soaked her hair, then her clothing. His hand still in hers, Clive dragged her further into the forest, where the trees provided more protection, neither of them truly paying attention to where they were going, only seeking out a dry spot to get their bearings. Even then, rain trickled down the trunks of the trees, leaving few places that were truly protected from the deluge.

They finally took shelter under the leaves of an old oak. Water dripped from one of the leaves and down into the spot where they came to rest, and Jill had to stand shoulder to shoulder with Clive so it wouldn't spill directly onto her head. They took a moment to catch their breath after their mad dash for a spot to protect them from the storm, panting from the exertion. Jill glanced over at Clive the exact moment that he turned his head to look at her. For a moment, they were both silent, until they burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"So much for the worst of the storm starting later tonight," Clive said, scrubbing his eyes to clear the moisture that had gathered there in his mirth.

"Oh, it's not so bad," she said, smiling at him as she caught her breath. She reached out and placed her hand under a trickle of rain coming from the branches above, letting it stream through her fingers to the ground below. "It's only water. There's nothing to be worried about."

Except there was something to be worried about, and it revealed itself almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. A rumble came from above, and the leaves around them trembled with the noise. As soon as she registered the sound, Jill tensed, her heart stuttering in her chest. "What was that?" she asked, her mouth dry and her voice high and breathy.

Clive looked up through the leaves, though quickly flinched back as a raindrop struck too near his eye. He blinked several times to clear his vision. "Probably just some thunder," he replied.

As if in answer, light arced across the sky, accompanied by a deep and sudden boom. This time, Jill jumped. It didn't sound like a storm. It sounded like an earthquake, like a landslide, like the mountains above were shaking apart and threatening to come crashing down on top of them. Jill shrunk back a little, but then clenched her fists and grit her teeth. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, trying to batter its way out, and every instinct screamed for her to run and take shelter.

But Clive didn't appear perturbed. He peered up at the darkening sky once more with a frown on his face, like electricity shooting from the heavens and thunder loud enough to deafen was an everyday occurrence where he was from. Jill wanted nothing more than to cling to the tree they were standing next to, to duck under its roots and curl up into a ball and cry, but she didn't want Clive to think she was a baby. He had taken the time to find the lovely clearing they had been playing in all afternoon, had held her hand as they ran for shelter, had wanted to spend the day with her. She didn't want him to think a little storm could scare her off, didn't want him to think less of her just because she was frightened.

So when the next crack of lightning split the sky and the next burst of thunder rumbled through the valley, Jill swallowed back her tears and fear and clenched her fists to hide the trembling. "Yeah," she echoed. "It's just some thunder. Nothing to be worried about."

Clive turned to smile at her, but it dropped from his face when he saw her expression. Her whole body was wound tight with tension, the space between her brows knit together to keep herself from crying. He co*cked his head at her. "Jill, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, too quickly to be plausible. She glanced away from him, not wanting him to see her worried expression. Thunderstorms weren't common in the north, and though she read stories with them, she had never lived through one. Clive had probably seen dozens of these. She didn't need him thinking less of her for her inexperience. If he wasn't worried, then she wouldn't be, either - or, at least, she'd fake it until he believed her.

Clive gave her a strange look at the tremor in her voice. He had known her for years now, knew her better than anyone else knew her - no doubt he could tell that something wasn't as it should be. Still, he seemed to dismiss whatever suspicions he was harboring in favor of peeking out from under the branches again to get a closer look at the sky and better gage the state of the storm.

As soon as he looked away from her, Jill wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking and hoping he would mistake it for the cold. She hadn't expected the wind to howl so loud, the way the rain poured down, how close the lightning seemed and how deafening the thunder. Even if she couldn't allow him to see her fear, it still made her quiver inside, setting every one of her nerves on edge. Her heart raced every time the gale seemed to pick up, every sense on alert as she fought her fight or flight reflex.

That was probably why she heard it before he did. At first, she mistook it for the wind whistling through the branches, but the wind came and went, gusting powerfully one moment and slamming the rain down onto every surface imaginable, then easing up a bit before coming back louder and scarier than ever. This noise was consistent regardless of the highs and lows of the tempest, a high-pitched whining that she feared she was making for a moment, revealing her state of terror. But it wasn't coming from her, and her head turned to look deeper into the forest to its source.

"We should probably think about getting back," Clive interrupted her thoughts regretfully. "I was hoping we'd get more time together out here, but we should return to camp before our counselors start worrying."

Though getting out of the wind and rain and away from the crash of thunder and flash of lightning sounded deeply appealing, Jill didn't look away from where her gaze was focused on the forest. The thick cover of clouds made the shadows cast by the trees all the starker, and the forest seemed dark and foreboding all of a sudden rather than appealingly mysterious. "There's something out there," Jill whispered.

Clive approached her again to stand next to her, peering into the shadows at her side. "What is it? I don't see anything."

Jill shook her head. "Don't you hear it?"

Clive's head tilted as he listened for the noise. He was silent for a moment, but another crash of thunder made Jill jump, and the sound grew louder and more insistent in response. It almost sounded like crying.

"What is that?" Clive questioned, and he took a step forward towards the noise.

Jill grabbed his arm in both hands before he could get far. "Don't!" she hissed at him, tugging him back to stand beside her. "It could be a..." A ghost, she wanted to say, but she knew ghosts weren't real, and she would sound all the more foolish if she said it out loud. Still, the noise sounded eerily like a crying child, and her imagination cooked up visions of a camper from long ago, lost in the forest during a storm who was now cursed to spend their afterlife haunting these very woods.

But she couldn't tell Clive that - he'd think she was even more of a fraidy-coeurl than he probably already did. "You don't know what it could be," she said instead.

But instead of moving back to her side, Clive's eyes were fixed on the depths of the forest. "I don't," he finally replied, "but whoever it is, they sound frightened. They might be hurt." He turned to look back at her and met her eye. "We should go and help them."

They should go back to their cabins and hide from the thunder under their bunks, but Clive didn't look like he could be deterred. He thought he heard someone lost in the woods, and ghost or no, he was determined to help them. All she wanted was for him to turn away and take her back to camp, but he wouldn't be her friend, wouldn't be the Clive she knew and loved if he turned his back on someone in need.

So she put on a brave face for him. She set her jaw and nodded once. "You're right. We should go check it out."

That didn't mean that she was going to release him. Instead of letting his arm go, she wrapped her own arms around it and walked by his side as they shuffled deeper into the forest. He glanced over at her with a bemused expression, but she didn't return the look. She didn't care if clinging to him gave away her fear. She didn't think she could stand to be out here for another moment without his arm to anchor her.

Their progress was slow with her clutching his arm, but they didn't have to go far to find the source of the sound. It wasn't more than a few dozen steps away, past a few more oak trees and beyond a big rock. As they grew closer, the noise grew louder. It didn't sound like a crying child, and for a moment, Jill feared the worst, but it didn't sound like the wailing of a ghost, either. Instead, it sounded almost like...

"A puppy?" Jill gasped when it finally came into view. It was small, no bigger than the ball they kicked around during free time, and curled up tight among the roots of a nearby tree. Its gray fur was soaked through and clinging to its skin, so Jill could see the bones of its ribs and hips jutting out. There was a white patch on its forehead, and it was shivering from the wet and the cold.

"I think it is," Clive said, stopping them several feet away from the shivering mass of drenched fur. When the thunder rumbled again, Jill trembled, tightening her grasp around Clive's arm even as the puppy squirmed and cried from fear at the noise.

The sight of it sent a sympathetic pang through her. Finally, she released Clive from the vice grip she had attached herself to him with and approached the dog to fall to her knees before it.

"Careful, Jill," Clive cautioned. "He might be a wild animal. He could be dangerous."

Danger or no, the sight of him terrified and trying to hide away from the storm nearly broke her heart. "He's just a baby. He's not going to hurt us," she whispered, her throat swelling shut with unshed tears. She tried to swallow them, but her voice was still tight when she continued, "Where's his family? Where are his parents?" She reached down to take the puppy in her arms. His eyes were only barely open, his ears still curled over, and he was far colder and thinner than he should have been, but he was alert enough to recognize that he was being moved. He squirmed in her arms, at first away from her, frightened of the mystery creature with unknown intentions picking him up, but he must have quickly realized that she was warm and probably harmless, for it didn't take much before he was burrowing himself against her stomach, shivering all the while.

"But how did he get here?" Clive asked. Jill didn't look at him, only giving him the barest shrug as she stared down at the tiny creature cradled in her arms. She turned to sit with her back against the tree. "Maybe there's a hole in the fence into camp, and he was brought through it? Maybe his mom thought he wouldn't be strong enough to survive and abandoned him. Maybe she left him here so she could take care of her other puppies." There was a strange tone in his voice when he said it, and Jill finally tore her gaze away from the dog to look up at him, glad that the rain masked the tears of fright and pity gathering in her eyes. His expression was closed off, his gaze distance as he finally went to one knee before the two of them.

The puppy had turned his face so it was buried against her. Both Jill and the dog were sopping wet, but her skin was still warm beneath her clothing and more protected by the flaps of her jacket, and he nuzzled against her to seek out her body heat. Clive reached out to pet him between his ears. The dog nudged into his warm hand, though she couldn't say whether it was because he enjoyed the feeling of Clive's fingers in his fur or if he just appreciated a second heat source.

That was when another flash of lightning lit up the forest and another crash of thunder shook the valley. Jill nearly jumped out of her skin, and the puppy began to cry all over again. She clung to it all the tighter, wrapping her arms around him and lifting him to her face to press her cheek to his flank, though she wasn't sure if it was to comfort herself or the dog. She hoped Clive would mistake the whimpering as coming from the puppy.

"He's so scared," she whispered when she felt she could trust her voice again. "It must be the storm. He keeps shaking and crying whenever the thunder goes off. This must be terrifying for him."

"He's only a baby," Clive told her. "He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know that the thunder and lightning can't hurt him here - only that he's cold and wet and there are loud noises all around. He's probably never experienced a thunderstorm before. No wonder he's terrified."

That was when the realization dawned on Clive's face. He ducked down to take in her expression, but she turned her cheek to further bury her face into the puppy's soaked fur. "Jill..." Clive said cautiously, "have you ever been in a thunderstorm before?"

Shame welled up in Jill as her cheeks colored. He had asked her indirectly, a kindness, but she still understood what his true question was. She hadn't been half as subtle as she thought, hadn't been able to pretend to be nearly as brave as he was.

Maybe she could still fool him. Jill steeled her nerves and lifted her face from the dog's flank to tell him that of course she has been in a thunderstorm before and that she wasn't afraid at all, what was there even to be afraid of?

But before she could open her mouth, another zig-zag of lightning pierced the heavens, and the thunder rumbled in the sky. With the sudden light that bloomed across the forest and the way he was closely observing her, he couldn't have missed the violent way she startled or the terror that flashed across her face.

As the forest went dark again, shame filled Jill's features even as she fought to slow her heart rate. She pressed her face back into the shaking puppy's fur. "No," she whimpered, both from the fright and the embarrassment, "I haven't."

Now he knew the truth, and there was no taking it back in the quiet of the darkening forest. He probably thought she was so foolish for being scared of the storm. It was just some wind and some rain, but the sound of it howling and the thunder rumbling set her off every time. Now she knew for sure that the warm water on her face wasn't just the rain. She couldn't stand to look at him, too ashamed of her own fear. Instead, she squinted her eyes shut and pressed her face deeper into the puppy's fur.

She didn't look up when she heard Clive sigh and shift his weight. However, instead of laughing at her or rolling his eyes or leaving her so he could finally get out of the cold, wet forest, he moved to her side and leaned back to sit next to her. His arm was warm when it came to slip around her shoulders, and he rubbed his hand up and down her arm on the opposite side of him, both in a bid to comfort her and to warm her up.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked her as he settled in beside her.

Jill sniffled, still not turning to look at him. "I don't want you to think I'm a baby or that I'm naïve. It's just a storm, it shouldn't be scary. But all the noise and the rain and the lightning..." She trailed off, feeling silly. "I shouldn't be scared. I wanted you to think I was brave. But instead, now you know what a wimp I am."

His arm tightened a little bit over her shoulder. "I don't think you're a baby," he told her softly. When she raised her head out of the dog's fur, she could see he had tilted his head close as he spoke to her. She quickly returned her gaze back to the puppy in her arms, who was shivering less now, seeming to settle in. "In fact, I think you're very brave. It's not easy to face something as scary as a thunderstorm for the first time if you've never been through one. The first time I heard one, I think I hid under the bed for the whole time."

Jill sniffed, her nose stuffed from the unshed tears. "I want to hide under a bed," she mumbled. "I don't think that makes me brave."

"Sure it does," Clive told her. "You're brave not because you're not scared, but because you're resisting your fear to help someone who needs it. I think you're braver now that I know you're scared but did it anyway than when I thought you weren't afraid at all." His free hand came down pet the puppy's head again. He had uncurled his body so it was pressed against Jill's stomach now, and his chin was cradled in the crook of her elbow.

Jill thought that over. She hadn't thought of that before. She had always thought of the heroes in her stories as dashing and fearless, afraid of nothing even as they faced down natural disasters and raging monsters. But wasn't it braver to be afraid of something, to be so frightened that you were shaking in your boots and wanted nothing more than to flee, and still do the right thing anyways?

She didn't know. She thought so, but she was having trouble applying that same logic to herself. "I'm still scared," she admitted softly. The wind picked up and howled once more, and she tensed, expecting another peal of thunder, but it settled down once more, leaving only the sound of the rain against the leaves above them.

No doubt Clive could feel the way she stiffened with the way his arm was draped around her shoulders, could feel every shiver as she trembled with fright. Instead of chiding her, his arm tightened around her in a sideways hug. "That's okay," he told her. "It's okay to be scared. I'm right here with you, and I'll help you get through it. What do you want to do?"

His words made her heart flutter. He didn't care that she was scared. He didn't care that he was stuck out here in the wind and the rain with her while she shook and cried. Sometimes, she wondered if he really cared about her or if he only hung out around her to be polite. It was a constant, nagging fear of hers, that her first real friend didn't really care about her and was just too nice to chase her away. But then, there were times like these, when there was every reason to leave her behind or to go be with someone else, a chance to rush ahead and do something rather than stay with boring, shy Jill, but instead, he'd metaphorically slow his pace, just so he had the pleasure of walking beside her. There was no room for doubts in her heart then, just as the genuine warmth in his tone and affection on his face chased them all away now.

It almost pained her to look at, and she turned away as her cheeks heated. "I...don't know..." she whispered. Thunder rumbled once more, but quieter this time, further away. It still made her shake. "I want to go back to camp and find something warm for the puppy to eat, but I think I'm too scared to move." Her rear end felt frozen to the ground, the joints in her knees creaky, like they'd give out if she decided to try to stand.

"Then we'll stay here until you feel ready," Clive said easily, as if it wasn't getting dark, as if he wasn't as soaked through and freezing cold as she was. "And until you're ready, I'm going to be right here with you. You can be afraid if you want - I'm going to sit here and support you. When you're ready to go, then we'll walk back - together."

Together. The word sent another rush of warmth through her, chasing out even the cold of the storm and her fear. Suddenly, she didn't think the tears filling her eyes were from fright anymore, but for an entirely different reason.

Jill swallowed thickly and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. His hand resumed its rhythmic motion up and down her arm, and she focused on the feeling, letting it soothe and comfort her. The thunder rumbled once more - distant, quiet - and though she was scared, this time, she didn't jump. Something about the sleeping puppy in her embrace, the weight of his arm around her shoulders, helped to ground her, making her fear seem a little more distant.

"Thank you, Clive," she whispered, closing her eyes and settling her head against his shoulder. "For everything." She'd have to get up and go back to camp with him soon, but for now, she just wanted to settle into the calm of his embrace and let it warm and steady her for the trip back.

As if in answer to her silent thought, Clive tugged her against his side a little more and rested his cheek on top of her head. "It's nothing, Jill," he murmured back. "I know that if the situation was reversed, that you would do the exact same thing for me."

And here she was, thirteen years and a lifetime of heartaches later, with his head in her lap and her fingers tracing through his hair. Both of their Jolly Ranchers had long since dissolved into nothing, her tongue still flashing alluringly blue from between her teeth as she spoke. The thunder rolled once again in the distance, and he trembled lightly at the noise, but it was a far cry from the way he would jerk and jump at the slightest provocation not long ago.

"Eventually," Jill continued on as she closed out her story, "I found the strength to stand up. We returned to camp hand in hand as the storm broke, Torgal wrapped up in your coat. We tried to hide him in my cabin, but it didn't last very long - in hindsight, there was no way the two of us would have been able to keep him a secret for long." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled down at him, and he felt the laughter bubble up in her in the way her body shook slightly from the repressed giggle.

"I remember," he murmured. His voice was much steadier than it had been before she had started her story, his heart still thrumming, but much slower and smoother now. Torgal shifted on top of him slightly, tilting his snout from where it was tucked under Clive's chin to rest on his shoulder. He had only wiggled a few times during the course of Jill's story, as if realizing they were talking about him, but eventually Torgal had settled down, stretched out atop Clive and grounding him to the bed just as surely as Jill's fingers in his hair and the smell of wildflowers grounded him in reality.

"I remember how scared you were of the storm," Clive pressed on. "And sitting with you out there until you stopped shaking and were ready to go. It's one of my fondest memories." He had been just as anxious as she had been at the time, but for different reasons. He had been stuck in the mire of his own thoughts back then, thinking of Torgal being abandoned by his mother. The sight had brought up thoughts of his own mother and worries about his own worthiness until he had seen the way Jill was shaking like a leaf. He had hesitated before he had put his arm around her, wondering if he even deserved to touch her, to have the pleasure of offering her a shoulder to cry on, but she had buried herself into his side, and that warm, soft feeling that he now recognized as the budding stages of his crush had begun to take root.

"For me, too," Jill told him softly. She pet her fingers through his hair again, tracing designs across his scalp that made him shiver. "Clive, I want you to know - I'd never wish you any pain or fear, but in a way, I'm grateful we can have this moment together today. I feel almost like I'm repaying a debt for how you helped me all those years ago."

Clive frowned at that. He didn't like that she felt that she owed him. It made their relationship feel...transactional. "You have nothing to repay me for," he said with a touch of sternness. "You came to my rescue here when I needed you to, even though I know it's an inconvenience. I doubt that this is the way that you planned to spend your evening." He glanced away from her briefly, unable to meet her eye, too ashamed of the state that she had found him in.

But a gentle touch under his chin brought his gaze back to her. "I apologize," she said as she looked down upon him. "You're right. Saying I'm repaying a debt is the wrong way to phrase it, but I simply meant that this is something I'm happy to do for you. In a way, it's an honor - to see you open up, to see you lean on me in a vulnerable moment, and to be allowed to comfort you and help you feel better. Does that make sense?"

Her hair slipped over one shoulder, obscuring his peripherals. Like this, he couldn't see the cabin, couldn't see the lights flashing outside - his vision was filled with Jill, because she was all that mattered. It brought him back to that grove of oaks in the rain as much as her story had, and the way that it had made him feel when she curled up against his side as the storm raged. He hadn't pitied her then, hadn't seen her as something to feel sorry for. He had cared for her deeply, even then, and to know that she trusted him enough to let him see her fear, to allow him to support her in her moment of weakness, had been touching. "It does," he whispered.

This time, when the thunder rumbled outside, Clive didn't jump, too entranced by the warmth of Jill's lap beneath his head, her fingers gently combing through his hair. Looking up at her was like looking into the past, beyond all the hurts that had occurred over the past thirteen years and into the storm-gray eyes of the young girl he had once been so close to. The look in her eyes, the tilt of her smile, all brought him back to lazy summer days spent reading and talking and laughing, the safety and comfort of the one who knew him best.

And with the memory the old feelings came rushing back in like a torrent - of how much he wanted to be close to her, to hold her hand, how he agonized to be in her presence, but how sitting beside her was almost as torturous. As a boy, he had wrestled with these feelings - even if he had ever gotten past the point of wondering whether or not he should act on them, he was only a teenager, fumbling and shy. He wouldn't have known what to do.

Her fingers carding through his hair traveled along the sides of his head, and her nails gently scraped around the shell of his ear. Clive shivered. His hand reached up of its own accord, catching a strand of her own hair and running it between his thumb and forefinger. She looked just as entranced as he was, her pupils blown wide, her lips slightly parted.

He wasn't a teenager anymore, and neither was she. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

He wanted to tangle his hands in her silver tresses and drag her down to him, to taste the sharp intake of her breath as he kissed her senseless. He wanted to roll her under him on the bed, feel her squirm beneath him as he pressed his body against hers. He wanted to bite down on her lower lip, to lave his tongue down her throat, to nip at her collarbone and sink his teeth into her cleavage. He wanted to suck the blue right off of her tongue.

Clive sat up so suddenly he nearly bashed his head against the bunk above them, displacing Torgal in the process. The dog scrambled off the bed as he was rudely disturbed from his place resting on Clive's chest, and he turned to level Clive with a look. Clive didn't have it in him to apologize to the dog at that moment. With a huff, Torgal lay down again, this time on the ground next to the bunk, resting his head over his crossed paws and watching the doorway.

"I think I'm all right now," Clive said hoarsely, turning so his feet were planted on the floor and focusing his eyes on his toes as the echoes of teenage girls' laughter rang in his ears. He couldn't look at Jill. He was too afraid that if he did, he might do something that he'd regret. Instead, he braced his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, his fingers tangling in his hair a pale imitation of the comfort her own had brought him.

In his peripherals, Jill had gone very still, her hands still hovering in the air where they had been carding through his hair. She seemed just as shocked as he was. After a moment, she clenched her fists lightly and rested them upon her thighs, her own eyes focused where he had once been laying.

Jill cleared her throat briefly before speaking. "Are you sure? Is there...anything else you need?"

Clive shook his head, but didn't raise it from his hands. His heart was racing, but it was no longer from fear, but anticipation - anticipation for something he was still trying to let go. Still, he carefully cataloged his reactions, focusing on each part of his body in turn before he spoke. His head still hurt a bit, but the dizziness, the nausea, the panic were all gone, with only a shake in his hands to betray the earlier attack - and the lingering butterflies battering about his ribcage that he suspected would remain as long as he was still in her presence. He now recognized the feeling that had been blooming in his chest ever since they had been reunited for what it was, even if he had so far been reluctant to put a name to it.

"I'm fine," he told her, still a little hoarse, but steady. "I think the meds have kicked in and the worst of it has passed. Thank you, Jill." He turned slightly to give her a small smile and glance at her, though he didn't raise his head up. She was looking at him with a concerned expression, but she smiled back at him when she saw him look over at her. He quickly tore his gaze away and returned it to his feet, afraid that something in his eyes would give him away.

"I'm glad," Jill said. "You had me worried there for a bit. I'm happy to see you feeling better." She reached out to touch him, but hesitated before she could make contact, her hand hovering in the air near his shoulder. Clive held his breath, but she seemed to think better of it, her hand falling to the sheets next to her to support her weight as she leaned in slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after a brief hesitation.

No! He wanted to scream immediately. He didn't want to tell her, didn't need her to know all the f*cked up things he tried to keep locked in his head, but he bit back the impulse and considered the question carefully. For a long time, he hadn't spoken at all about what he had gone through - not with his squadron, who would have told him just to shake it off, not with Joshua, for he feared the admission would harm his already fragile state. It had even taken him time to open up to Cid and in group therapy.

It wasn't until he had gone through many sessions with his personal therapist that were like pulling teeth that he had finally started to speak on the things that haunted him. He had told her before he began that he struggled to talk about it and, after assuring him that he needn't feel pressured to tell her anything he didn't feel comfortable, she had suggested that sometimes putting things into words and telling others helped them to lose their power over him, even if the act of talking about it was supremely difficult. He had made the first step that day, unveiling a small part of his story to her, and shockingly, he had found that it had comforted some part of him, leading to him telling her more and more over time, and eventually opening up more in group therapy, as well. It wasn't an easy road, and there were times that he did regret what he said and who he said it to, but he could still pinpoint that conversation as the moment he had started to improve.

But would it be the same with her? Clive didn't want to burden her with what he had seen, the things he had done, the tragedies he had endured. It was enough to make anyone break, and he didn't want to lay that on her shoulders.

Still, she had already endured one of his panic attacks, saw him incomprehensible and shaking from something as simple as a storm, and she hadn't turned away. She had comforted him, helped to ground him through it, had called it an honor to be able to help him. Would she think the same if he told her the truth? About what he had seen and done in Waloed, about being buried in the rubble, trapped beneath Biast? Or the storm after he had returned, hiding away in the janitor’s closet?

He didn't know - and he was scared to find out. Scared to see the judgment on her face, the disgust - or, even worse, to burden her with his awful memories, with the terrible feeling that lurked inside him, with the horrible truth. With himself.

"I...think so. Yes. I do want to talk about it," he said after a long pause. "Just...not right now. I think I'm still too close to the feeling. If I start now, I'm worried I'll fall back into it."

"Of course," Jill responded quickly. "Whenever you're ready. Just tell me when, and I'll always be ready to listen and support you. Whatever you need."

Finally, he lifted his head up from where it was nestled in his hands and sat up as straight as he could, though he was careful not to knock his head against the bunk above them. "Thank you, Jill. For everything," he said warmly.

Looking at her directly, he could take in the full force of her smile now, feel the way it made his heart flutter. "Of course, Clive," she murmured back. "Anytime."

However, because he was looking right at her, he could see the exact moment her expression changed, and she looked away, back to the pill divider that was sitting on the mattress. Clive mentally girded himself for the questions that were sure to follow, about what he was taking, why he was taking it, how he ended up with them.

But instead of giving him the third degree, she plucked it from its spot on the sheets and handed it over to him. "Here," she said. She hesitated for a moment, before continuing on, "The pills. They help? With...this?"

"Yes," he told her succinctly, not sure what else to say.

"And you take them regularly, or just when you need them?"

"Regularly. Twice a day."

Jill nodded decisively. "It looks like you only have one left in there. Do you have a bottle with more somewhere? Let's make sure we refill the divider so you can bring it down to camp with you when we leave."

That gave Clive pause, and a guilty flush came to his cheeks. "I...don't have any more," he mumbled.

She looked at him in confusion. "But...there's only one left," she repeated.

"I know," he replied lamely.

"Are you going to get more? Are they being shipped to camp?"

His ears were burning. "No. I have to go to the pharmacy to pick them up." She was still looking at him with a confused expression. Clive sighed and looked away from her. "I was supposed to pick them up last week during my day off," he said guiltily, "but the day I was supposed to go, the winds had knocked a tree over in the road and no one could get in or out of camp, and Cid was so stressed about everything else that I just...didn't bother to tell him. I didn't want to burden him with it."

"Clive..." Even just his name sounded like a gentle admonishing.

"I know," he groaned, the disgruntlement creeping into his voice. "I should have just told him I needed another day when I found out, but I didn't. Putting it off was a stupid thing to do and I regret it now, you don't need to tell me."

"That's not what I meant," she replied firmly. "I just worry about you. I only want you to take care of yourself."

Clive deflated, the frustration going out of him. He wasn't annoyed with her, not truly. Really, he was just angry with himself . "I know. I'm sorry," he said, setting his elbows on his knees again and resting his weight there. "I just...I've been doing well recently. I was only going to be a few days without them, and I thought I could get through it, but I'm not even strong enough to do that." He kept his gaze focused on the wooden floorboards beneath his feet, unable to look at her. The words slipped out unbidden. "Sometimes," he said thickly, "I wonder if I'm more the pills than I am me. If all the good parts of me come from them rather than myself, and this is all that I am without them. A broken wreck. A monster." He squinted his eyes shut, not even able to stand the sight of her in the corner of his eye. He didn't deserve it.

Her warm hands came to rest upon his shoulder, and Clive's eyes snapped open, though he didn't dare look at her. His feet seemed blurry through the veil of moisture. "I don't think that's true," she murmured from over his shoulder, almost directly in his ear. "I know you Clive - I know the type of person you are at your core. You are more than your demons. I may not know specifically what you're going through, but I do know this: those pills - they're not what make you a good person. They're not what gives you your empathy and your understanding. They don't make you good with the campers or kind or gentle. There's not a pill in the world that can do that - and if there is, please share your secret, because I can think of a fair number of people who could benefit from something like that. All it does is help you fight your battles. They alleviate some of the weight off your shoulders, fend off those demons so you can show all of those wonderful qualities that make you so special."

Clive was silent for a long moment, turning her words over in his head. He hadn't heard of it phrased like that before, and her words touched him deeply. His eyes suddenly seemed a little clearer, and with it he could see the drop of moisture that had hit the floor. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't clear, so instead, he gave her a short nod, his chin trembling.

He hadn't wanted her to see him cry, but it was too late for that. Jill leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder to embrace him. One of his hands came up to hold her own, not removing it but needing the comfort of her fingers lacing through his as he buried his face into the crook of her elbow to hide it. Even though his sniffles, the scent of wildflowers still filled his nose, and he breathed it in, allowing it to calm and settle him.

After some time, Clive finally lifted his head from her arm, giving her hand a short squeeze before releasing it. Jill took that as her cue to lean back on her heels, her hands sliding away from him, though she still left one hand on his shoulder.

She cleared her throat briefly, and when Clive glanced over, he was surprised to see that her eyes were red. Had she been crying for him? "Now," she said, all business, and his chance to ask her slipped away, "here's what we're going to do. My day off is tomorrow. You are going to take it for me."

Clive balked. "Jill, I can't - "

"You can and you will," Jill said sternly. "Besides, this is summer camp. I'm practically on vacation every day. Another work day isn't going to hurt me - I'll enjoy it." It was a lie, and an exceptionally kind one. Just because their job was enjoyable didn't mean it wasn't work .

"I'm going to take your boys with my girls for the day and watch them," she continued on. "Oscar can buck up and figure out their wake up and bedtime routine for another day. In the meantime, you are going to go into town tomorrow and pick up your prescription. You're going to come back, you are not going to skip any more doses without a doctor's express permission, and then we are going to spend the rest of the summer having fun and spending as much time together as we can get away with. If that's something you still want?"

"It is. Of course it is," Clive responded eagerly, shifting his weight onto his hip to turn and face her more fully. "I want nothing more than that, but - "

"Then it's decided," Jill said decisively, not giving him another chance to protest. "Drive safe tomorrow, will you?"

"Of course," he replied automatically. He considered debating her further on the subject, but he glanced back down at the empty pill divider. After a moment, he allowed his protests to slip away with a sigh.

Instead, he turned to face her again. "Jill...thank you. Truly," he said sincerely.

Her gray eyes were warm as she looked into his own. "Of course, Clive," she said warmly. "Any time."

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

"Absolutely not."

Clive wasn't sure what he expected when he and Jill went down to the office to tell Cid the plan the next morning, but a stern refusal wasn't it. Judging by Jill's reaction, she seemed just as surprised as he was. She just blinked at Cid as she processed his words.

"I can't allow you to just skip your day off, Jill," Cid continued on, "even if you're doing it willingly."

Jill's hands clenched into fists, and her shoulders tensed as she prepared for a fight. "I don't see why not," she shot back. "It's my day off. Why shouldn't I be allowed to do what I wish with it?"

"Because what you wish is going to leave you burned out and exhausted. I know working with children is fun, but it is still work," he told her firmly. "As camp director, it's my job to make sure that you take care of yourself so you can better do your job - even if that means stopping you from accidentally harming yourself with your own selflessness."

"But it's my choice," Jill protested once again.

"Not in this case, it isn't," Cid told her. "You're trying to do a kindness for your ill friend, but I'm sure he doesn't want you to hurt yourself in the process."

Cid glanced over in Clive's direction, but he glanced away from Cid, ashamed and unable to meet his eyes. Cid was right. He knew Jill loved her work, but he didn't want her to stretch herself too thin in her efforts to help him. She had already done so much for him, and if he needed to save her from her own good intentions, then he would.

But he also really needed his medication. He didn't think he could make it through to his next day off without it.

Finally, Clive decided to put an end to this. He pushed off from where he was leaning against the doorframe to Cid's office, stepping around Jill to stand in front of Cid's desk. He reached into his coat pocket and produced the pill bottle for his anti-anxiety medication. The single, lonely pill rattled pitifully down at the bottom as he set it down on the table in front of Cid.

Cid looked up at him suspiciously, but he took the bottle from where Clive had set it, turning it so he could read the information on the front. Clive could see the moment he found the name of the medication and knew he recognized it, for realization dawned on his face. Cid shook the bottle, looking down at the last pill sitting in the bottom of it before his eyes returned to Clive's.

"I ran out a few days ago," Clive said guiltily, no longer able to look at Cid. He knew he should have been better prepared, but he hadn't - and now he, Jill, Cid, and the camp as a whole were going to suffer for it. "I was going to go down into town the other day to pick up more from the pharmacy, but..."

"Ah, the tree that fell across the road," Cid remembered. "You couldn't get out of camp. No one could. Why didn't you tell me?"

Clive kept his eyes focused on the grain of the wooden planks of the wall. They looked like they were due to be dusted. "You were going through enough that day," he mumbled guiltily. "I didn't want to set another burden across your shoulders."

"You still should have told me," Cid said sternly. "As I said, one of my jobs is making sure the staff takes care of themselves so the camp can run smoothly. I can't do that if you don't tell me what's going on."

Clive's ears burned. "I'm sorry. I should have said something. I was just....ashamed," he whispered.

When Clive finally found the courage to look back at him, Cid's eyes were sympathetic. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of," he told him kindly. "No more than needing a refill on an inhaler or to buy something for your allergies."

Clive nodded slowly. It was something that they had talked about multiple times in group therapy, about not feeling guilt or shame over the healthy coping mechanisms and medications many soldiers needed after coming back from a warzone. Hearing it repeated back to him was one thing, but internalizing it was quite another. "I know," he whispered.

Cid nodded decisively. "Good," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. He observed both Jill and Clive with a critical eye, considering the both of them and his answer carefully. "Now that that's cleared up," he continued on, "the answer is still no."

Clive's head jerked up to look back at Cid, surprised. Jill seemed just as shocked as he was, because out of the corner of his eye he could see her mouth open and close several times as she tried to find the words to counter him. "But - You can't make him - " she stuttered out.

"You can't give up your day off to Clive," Cid interrupted. Jill's protests died in her throat, but her chin jerked up proudly as she glared at Cid. Clive had to suppress a smile. Watching her fight for him was touching, even if the end result wasn't what either of them had wanted.

Cid gave them both a firm look, challenging either of them to interject again. When they didn't, he nodded decisively. "You are right about one thing, though - we can't have Clive continue to skip his medication," he continued on. "So here's what we're going to do: Jill, you are going to take your day off as planned. Clive, you are going to take another sick day. You should be able to head into town without any trouble - just be careful. It may not be raining anymore, but the roads are still slick."

Clive's brow furrowed. "I can't take another sick day," he said. "I've taken one too many already. Who's going to look after my campers?"

"Gav will," Cid said breezily. "He can take your cabin on a hike and then just keep them for the rest of the day. If he needs any help, I'll be around, and Oscar's been doing a fine job when he's with them, too. They'll miss you, but they'll survive without you until tomorrow."

"Cid..." Clive trailed off.

Cid held a hand up to stop him. "One last thing," he said, looking back to Jill. "Jill. I doubt it's how you'd envisioned your day off, but I'd like you to go into town with Clive. It sounds like the poor lad has had a rough few days, and I'd like you around just to make sure he's all right."

Clive was about to protest - after all, this was Jill's day off, she shouldn't have to spend it taking care of him - but before he could even open his mouth to say so, Jill spoke. "Of course. I certainly wasn't about to let him go down alone." She sounded indignant that Cid had even suggested that she would do otherwise.

Cid smiled, unlacing his fingers and spreading his hands out in a shrug. "Good. Then it's decided," he said, simple as that. "Take your time in town, but make sure you're both back by sundown."

"We will," Jill responded brightly. "Thank you, Cid."

"Thank you, Cid," Clive echoed, still feeling a little shocked. He hadn't expected it to be that easy, especially after Cid had denied them the first time. Now, he was not only going to get a refill on his anti-anxiety medication, but was also going to go into town with Jill, going to spend the whole day with her. The thought made him feel dizzy.

"Just make sure you both meet up with your juniors before you leave," Cid told them. "Let them know you'll both be away from camp from the day, and let Oscar know you're taking another sick day but that I'll be around to help him. Poor lad's been left out of the loop."

"I will," Clive promised.

Jill finally turned away from the front desk. She paused as she passed by Clive. "I'm going to go let Shirleigh know where we'll be," she told him. "Meet you in the parking lot in half an hour?"

"Sounds great," he replied, still feeling a little dazed. "See you then?"

"See you then."

He was still standing there stunned as Jill left the room. Cid was still looking at him, amusem*nt dancing in his eyes. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," Clive replied automatically. He mentally shook himself and stepped forward to retrieve the almost empty pill bottle from Cid's desk. "Just...glad to be able to go into town and get more. Thanks again, Cid."

"Don't worry yourself over it," Cid waved him off. "Just don't do it again. You've worried me the past few days. Those are important - don't go skipping out on them."

"I won't," Clive promised, setting a hand over his heart with a solemnity that was only partially feigned. "I've learned my lesson, I swear."

"Good." The glimmer of mischief faded from Cid's eyes, and he stood from his chair, coming around the desk to clap Clive on the shoulder and steer him back to the door. He paused briefly before sending him out. "One more thing," he told him, his tone surprisingly serious - so serious that Clive was surprised at what he said next. "Buy that girl lunch while you're in town. She really stuck her neck out for you there."

Clive nodded. He hadn't expected such gravity from Cid, who always took an air of teasing whenever he mentioned Jill around him, to the point where he was beginning to think that Cid had figured out Clive's mind before he had. He didn't disagree with the sentiment. "I will. She really helped me out yesterday. She's helped me in so many ways."

"I can tell. I think she's good for you, Clive," Cid said. "I hope she sticks around."

"I hope so, too."

It didn't take Clive long to make his way back to his own cabin after Cid had released him. The sun was only barely touching the horizon, so the boys were still slumbering away when he crept in. Oscar sleepily opened his eyes when he heard Clive enter their room, but he seemed to understand when Clive told him the plan and wished him luck on his trip. From there, it was a simple thing to change out of his sleep-rumpled clothes and make a trip to the restroom to relieve himself, brush his teeth, and take his last pill before making his way down towards the entrance of the camp.

He was surprised to see that he had beaten Jill to the parking lot. She had left Cid's office before he had, but a quick glance around confirmed that she wasn't sitting in any of the few cars left in the area. He checked the time on his phone. He still had some time before they were officially supposed to meet, so he leaned back against the side of the camp truck, his arms crossed and his face tilted back to take in the sunshine. All signs of the fearsome storm from yesterday had dissipated, with only the puddles on the ground and a few fluffy clouds scattered through the sky leaving any indication that it had even existed.

Though he was enjoying the nice weather, he was grateful Jill didn't leave him waiting for long. She waved to him as she stepped out of the camp gates, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a couple of travel mugs in each hand, along with the handles of a plastic bag hanging from her wrist.

"Here," she said, handing him one of the cups of coffee as she approached. She also dug into the bag and handed him a breakfast wrap folded into a paper towel. "I stopped by the kitchens on my way out," she explained, digging into the bag for another wrapped burrito for herself now that she had a free hand. "Kenneth was working on breakfast for the rest of the camp; I picked up something for us to eat on the road. Figured you wouldn't want to head into town on an empty stomach. I certainly don't."

The coffee in the cup she had given him had more cream than he was used to, but was only lightly sweetened, just how he liked it. The breakfast wrap was stuffed with eggs and sausage and peppers, complete with melted cheese on top. As soon as he took a bite, Clive realized how ravenous he was. He had only picked at the food she had brought him last night, his stomach still unsettled after his panic attack and his realization, but his appetite appeared to have returned in full. He resisted the urge to wolf it down. "It's delicious," he mumbled through a mouthful. "Thank you, Jill."

They silently agreed to drive down together in her car, and he was grateful when Jill told him she'd drive, her tone brooking no argument. Though he had taken his anti-anxiety medication, Clive still felt jittery after his attack yesterday. Even if he hadn't, just knowing that his pill bottle was empty made him tense, his uneasy mood putting him in no fit state to drive. He wasn't even in a fit state to shave , and hadn't been since he had tried to ration his medication. His hands had an unnatural tremor in them, and he feared he'd nick himself in the process. He could feel himself getting scruffy, but wasn't in the right place to do anything about it. Soon, he hoped he'd be able to remedy that.

As he climbed into the passenger side of her car, he had to resist the urge to bounce his knee to release some of the nervous energy. Jill seemed to pick up on his apprehensive state, for she turned and gave him a smile after she had settled into the driver's side. He tried to give her a watery smile in return, but didn't think it was very convincing. Thankfully, she didn't mention it. "Will you DJ?" she asked. "There's not many stations that reach this deep in the mountains. You can pick whatever you want."

"Yeah," he replied, grateful for something to distract his mind and hands. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Anything is fine," she told him, turning to face fully forward again as she started the car. "Maybe something with lyrics? Though you might have to listen to me singing along poorly."

He cracked a smile at that as she pulled out of the parking lot, a genuine one, this time. "I'm sure you're a lovely singer."

"Clive Rosfield, you are about to see how wrong you are," she laughed.

As Jill started on the long road into town, Clive began to fiddle with the tuning knob for the radio. Most of the stations were only running static, and he quickly turned the volume down while he searched for one that was actually playing music. As they ventured further into the forest and then through the pass, a few more stations began to filter in, and Clive swapped between them as he decided what to listen to. He eventually settled on a country station, which was the only channel with a vocalist this far out. The first song was one he quickly recognized as a cover of an old rock song, the male singer's vocals longing and smooth as he sang about long car rides and a yearning for the lost idealism of his youth. He didn't recognize the version, but he knew the song, and it wasn't long before he heard Jill humming along with the melody. He turned to look out the side window so she wouldn't catch him smiling.

Jill was a careful driver, which he was grateful for. The road down the mountain was winding and full of switchbacks, and there were a few places where it narrowed down to a point where there was barely enough room for two cars to pass side by side. Jill took it slow, decelerating smoothly as they turned tight corners and hugging the side of the road when a large truck passed by them heading in the opposite direction. He felt at ease with her in the driver's seat, allowing him to enjoy the sight of the valley spread out below them. He didn't think he could fully relax until he had picked up his prescription, the empty pill bottle in his pocket taunting him every time he felt it brush up against his thigh, but the view and the sound and Jill humming along next to him was a welcome distraction.

She wasn't nearly as bad of a singer as she had complained that she was. It wasn't long before a higher energy song came on the radio, and Jill began to actually sing along under her breath. The lyrics were simple and catchy, and by the second verse Clive found himself tapping his food. He nudged her with his elbow when the chorus began again, and she glanced his way just in time to see him smile and start singing along at her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head before focusing back on the road, but she was grinning when she started to sing along in earnest with him. She struggled to hit the higher notes and warbled charmingly through them, but stayed consistently on pitch in her middle and low range, her voice sweet and euphonious. Even if she claimed she was no singer (he disagreed), the way her face lit up as she finally dropped her inhibitions and sang openly through the bridge made his heart flutter. He liked seeing her happy, with no trace of restraint or self-consciousness to dampen her joy.

He joined in with her again for another song, a call and answer between a male and a female vocalist, and they each picked up a role. Clive was only passing familiar with it, and ended up mumbling through some of the lyrics before coming back stronger for the chorus, but when he glanced over, Jill was still smiling despite his ineptitude. There was a trace of a flush in her cheeks, which made him start to actually pay attention to the passionate lyrics he had been singing and the sentimental meaning behind them. Though the sight filled him with warmth, he quickly glanced away. It was just a song. It didn't mean anything - and even if it did, she'd probably just laugh at him for it.

Their time driving down the mountain into town passed both quickly and amicably. Before he knew it, they were driving past little souvenir shops and local restaurants, the same types that only seemed to pop up in small Valisthean country towns. There was little traffic on the road - though it was the height of the summer, it was also the middle of the week, and Amber was more often a town people passed through on their way to elsewhere rather than visited for its own sake. However, it was also a town that Camp Bennumere relied on heavily during the camp season, and the camp staff were frequent visitors to the town to pick up essentials if they ran out.

There was a small city center towards the center of town, complete with a miniature park on a block in the middle of it, though it was mostly just a grassy field with a few trees, a fountain, and a path running through it all. What passed for a town hall took up one corner on the far side of the park, though it was little more than a nondescript brown building with the words City of Amber embossed above the doorway. The pharmacy was on another corner, sandwiched between a café and a shop that appeared to sell various types of yarn.

Jill pulled into a parking spot in front of the pharmacy. She set the brake but left the car idling as she turned to look at him. "Here we are." She indicated the pharmacy with a flourish, but there was a jerkiness to her movements, almost as if she was nervous. She wet her lips briefly, hesitated, then asked carefully, "Do you want me to go in with you? Or wait for you out here?"

Clive shook his head. "No. I'll be fine," he told her. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't want her hovering over him as he spoke with the pharmacist. Besides, he had something he needed to take care of while he was here, something he didn't want her privy to. "I...actually think I'd like to be alone for a bit, if it's all the same to you. I just need to think some things through," he said haltingly.

"Of course. I've got a few errands I need to run in town, and I think I'd like to window shop for a while, so I'll be around. Just...don't think too hard, all right?" She skirted the topic, but he could tell that she was concerned about his mental state. She needn't have worried. Though he still felt uneasy, he felt much calmer after her careful attention yesterday and her distractions in the car.

Which actually reminded him of what Cid had mentioned earlier, about paying her back for everything she had done for him. "Do you want to meet up for lunch later?" he blurted out. "My treat."

That finally broke her out of the cautious tone that she had been using with him, and she beamed at him. "Lunch sounds lovely. Did you have anything in mind?"

Clive shook his head. "We can go wherever you want. Do you have a preference?"

Her response was immediate. "Anything that isn't kid-food," she said without hesitation. "I don't care what as long as it's something with an actual flavor profile. Maybe even a vegetable or two, heavens forbid."

Now he was the one cracking a smile at her. The food at camp tended to follow a particular theme of bland, kid-friendly food. Kenneth and the rest of the kitchen staff did the best they could to keep the meals both balanced and interesting, but in the end, they had to appeal to the pickiest common denominator among the campers. There was only so much they could do, and after almost three weeks of dinners all rotating in on similar themes, he didn't blame Jill for feeling like it was wearing a little thin. Even he, who had subsisted on dried military rations for months at a time, was ready for a change.

He wracked his brain, and it didn't take long for an idea to pop up. "Gav mentioned that there's a restaurant around here that does really good Dhalmekian food. How do you feel about that?"

"Sounds perfect," she said warmly. "Do you want to meet me back here around noon?"

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

With that final farewell, Clive opened the passenger side door and climbed out of the car. He walked towards the pharmacy, but paused to glance over his shoulder at Jill sitting in the car. He waved at her, and she smiled and waved back before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the spot, allowing Clive to enter the building alone.

Thankfully, his prescription was ready and waiting for him by the time he reached the counter. Clive felt something in his chest unclench as the pharmacist handed over a full pill bottle, and for the first time all week he relaxed. The bottle of pills would last him another month, until the end of the camp session and a little beyond, giving him plenty of time to pick more up before transferring the prescription back to the local pharmacy in Rosalith.

That worry out of the way, as Clive stepped out of the pharmacy, he finally allowed himself to tilt his head back and enjoy the breeze and the sunshine. He hadn't wanted to take another sick day, but he was grateful that he didn't have to worry about rushing back to camp. He had the rest of the day to try to sort things through and get his head on straight before he went back to work.

Clive's next order of business took him to the city library. The building was attached to the Amber city hall and was nearly twice the size, though still modest to go along with the small town. The librarian at the front desk was a young man flipping through what appeared to be a textbook on engineering, but he glanced up from his homework when Clive came to stand before the table and quietly cleared his throat, and was quick to help when Clive made his request.

Though the library was small, there were a few enclosed study rooms available for public use. Since it was the middle of the week in a small town there were none currently in use. The only group scheduled for the day, a college prep course, wasn’t supposed to arrive until later that evening. The librarian handed over the clipboard with the mostly blank signup sheet, and Clive obligingly signed his name to reserve the smallest study room for the hour.

He took a few moments before entering, browsing through the shelves. Though the library was humble, their collection was well-maintained, with a good combination of older titles in addition to new books stocking their shelves. Clive smiled as he passed by the middle grade section to see the War of the Eikons series lined up neatly on one of the shelves. He thumbed open the first book, flipping through the chapters absent-mindedly, recalling with fondness the notes he used to write in it with Jill.

Eventually, he couldn't put it off any longer and made his way to the study room on the second floor. The room was small and cramped and looked like it had been adapted from a former closet, meant for no more than a couple people at a time, but he didn't need anything spacious for his purposes. A desk took up most of the room with a simple rolling chair pushed under it, looking out a window out onto the park. Clearly, it had been designed so that whoever was working there could people watch if they wanted a distraction.

It would do just fine. Clive closed the door behind him and sat in the rolling chair just as he felt his phone begin to buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it without looking at the caller ID. He already knew who was on the other line, for he requested the appointment earlier that morning.

"Hello, Isabelle."

"If it isn't my favorite client," Isabelle purred through the speaker of the phone. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected session?"

Isabelle had been Clive's therapist for almost a full year by that point. He had been uncertain of her when the VA office had first matched him with her - she didn't seem the type to be able to help traumatized soldiers work through their problems. However, she had surprised him - during their sessions, Clive had told her many things that could have made even the most serious of soldiers shrink back in fear and weep, but she had never once flinched away from him, no matter what he admitted to.

He had questioned her about it once, asked her how she could stand to hear about all of it from him and from the other soldiers she worked with and not be affected. It had all clicked into place when she revealed that she spent much of her young adult life in a warzone and had seen many of the horrific things he talked about firsthand. She had assured him that it did affect her, and that she did struggle with it sometimes - but that she had developed the healthy coping mechanisms to let it wash over her and move on, to let it build her up and make her strong by helping others. And then, of course, she had turned it back on him - telling him that with time and effort, he could see the same results if he'd be willing to put in the work.

And so Clive had. He made more of an effort in group therapy, and he stopped holding back during his sessions with Isabelle. She excelled at pushing him outside of his comfort zone, though no further than he was capable of handling. She poked and prodded and cajoled - sometimes, he even got the sense that she was casually flirting with him - to get him to step outside of his own head and see things in a different light. His time with her wasn't always easy, but Clive thought he was better for it.

"I've, ah, had a difficult time during the past couple of weeks," Clive said haltingly. "Thank you for granting me an emergency session," he tacked on after a moment's hesitation.

"Of course," Isabelle murmured. "We discussed this before you accepted Cid's offer - that returning to camp might bring up complicated feelings, and I told you I'd open up a session for you if you wanted guidance processing them."

"I know," Clive replied. "I knew this would be hard, that even if things were going well in general, returning to camp might throw me into turmoil, even if it might help me move past this...impasse. I just didn't expect it to be quite like this."

"It never is," Isabelle responded. She didn't speak after that, waiting for him to explain himself, giving him the space to explain when he was ready.

It took him a moment before he found his courage. He swallowed nervously. "I...may have done something foolish."

"Tell me," Isabelle prompted, and Clive did.

He started with the event during the polar bear swim, as that seemed the easiest to admit to - he had done everything he was supposed to do, took his meds and used his coping mechanisms to get through it. Then, he moved on to the past week, when his anxiety had been stalking him relentlessly, and how he had yelled at his campers during their archery session. He told her about the day prior, about the worst panic attack he had experienced in months. Throughout it all, Isabelle allowed him to speak, making noises of confirmation and sometimes interjecting to ask a question. It was almost like being back in her office instead of a cramped study room. He could imagine sitting on her couch as he spoke, watching her nod along and listening to her pen scratch on the pages of her notebook.

It was only when he finally fell silent that she spoke. "It sounds like the past couple of weeks have been difficult for you," Isabelle murmured sympathetically. "We prepared you for this, though. We knew that putting you under extra stress might bring up breakthrough attacks, which is why we practiced those resilience techniques before you left. How are they working for you so far?"

Clive thought back to the past week, to sitting under the trees outside the archery range, to Jill walking him through his attack the previous night. "Well enough," he replied, "when I remember to do them. Sometimes it takes me some time to calm down, but...when it's bad, it's like nothing else exists. I know I have exercises I could be doing, but I can't remember them. I just get...caught up in the moment."

"That can happen sometimes," Isabelle said. "We just need to find ways to keep you calm enough that you can remember them long enough to do them. How is your anti-anxiety medication treating you? Do you want to speak to your psychiatrist about trying something new?"

"No, no," Clive said, a little too quickly. Isabelle paused, waiting for him to elaborate. "I...may have skipped a couple of doses."

Isabelle went quiet again. Clive could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Did you forget them? I'm sure the camp has a nurse you can store them with who will remind you. They'd likely be happy to help if it will help you establish a new routine."

Classic Isabelle - she never accused him of anything, but he could tell from the way she phrased it that she didn't believe for a moment that he had actually forgotten to take his meds. She had said it as a statement, but she was waiting for him to admit his mistake on his own. "I, uh, didn't forget. It wasn't a mistake," he finally conceded.

"Ah. So this is the foolishness you were alluding to," she sighed. "How many doses?"

"...A few days' worth."

"Clive. " Her tone was admonishing.

"I know," he huffed. "You're the third person to scold me about this. I know it was a bad idea in hindsight, but at the moment I thought it was the right thing to do. I know better now."

"So why did you do it?"

"I just...ran out," he said. "I was supposed to pick up more, but circ*mstances kept me from going into town to get more on my day off. My options were to either skip a few doses or to find a way to get an extra rest day this week. I decided on the former, because the latter felt like...an inconvenience," he admitted. Bitterness swelled up within him. "Didn't do me much good. Everything went wrong because of it, and I was even more of an inconvenience than I would have been if I had just asked for an extra day off. I already feel bad enough about it, so please don't lecture me."

"It's not a lecture," Isabelle said, her voice gentling. "I'm simply concerned about you. I'm sure that's true of the others as well."

Clive exhaled, long and slow. "I know. You're just doing it because you're worried. I just...wish this wasn't such a burden."

Once again, Isabelle heard what he didn't say - that he wished that he wasn't such a burden. "Your health isn't an inconvenience, Clive," she told him. "I can see what you were trying to do - you were worried about burdening your boss and your co-workers by taking an extra day off, but you are allowed to need help, and you are allowed to ask for it when you need it. You tried to take everything on your own shoulders, instead of leaning on another, but you only hurt yourself by doing that."

It was one of his many character flaws that he and Isabelle had dug into during their sessions. He often struggled to identify when he was about to fall prey to it, and it was only with her help and hindsight that he managed to recognize where he had gone wrong.

But she wasn't entirely correct in her assumption this time. "Actually," he admitted, "I have had someone I've been leaning on lately."

"Have you?" Clearly, he had piqued her interest.

"I have," he said. "She's...actually an old friend of mine. It's a long story."

"We have plenty of time left in our session," Isabelle pointed out.

He pulled his phone away from his ear to check the time. "That we do," he said after he had returned it to his ear.

And so he told her about Jill - about how they had been friends during their youth, about how they had encountered each other again at camp and were working with the same age group, about how she seemed to pull back at times, but even then she was always there for him when he needed her most. She had helped him that day at the lake, had walked him through his panic attack, had distracted him when his memories of Joshua seemed too much to handle without even knowing the truth about what had happened.

"She's been more helpful than I can fully express. She doesn't even know the full extent of what's going on, but she never complains. She's just...there for me," he breathed out the last words, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

He could almost hear the smile in Isabelle's voice. "It sounds like she's been a great source of support for you," she said warmly. "I'm glad you've found someone to lean on as you navigate through this journey."

"Me, too," he replied, but even as he said the words, he felt a ball of guilt tighten in his chest. He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "I...haven't told her about Joshua yet," he admitted.

"Did she know your brother?"

"She did," he said. "We were friends, all three of us, when we attended camp. I keep looking for opportunities to bring it up, but every time one appears, I just...don't say anything," he mumbled, ashamed of himself. "She deserves to know. She cared about Joshua almost as much as I did, but...I don't know how to tell her, and every time I delay, it gets harder and harder to do it. At this point, I feel like I'm deliberately obscuring the truth from her."

The line went silent for several seconds as Clive and Isabelle both contemplated his words. This time, Isabelle was the one to break the silence. "Clive, before I say anything, I want you to know that you are under no obligation to tell her anything about your brother or your life. If you feel it is beyond your means to talk about it at this point, or if you are uncomfortable sharing it with her, you don't need to tell her anything. She may have been close to Joshua once, but that was many years ago. If you aren't ready yet, then you don't need to reveal anything, even if you feel indebted to her for helping you." Her words made sense, but the thought of hiding the truth from her hurt almost as much as the idea of telling her what had happened.

Thankfully, Isabelle wasn't done yet. "That being said," she continued on, "from what you've told me, it sounds like this is someone you care about, and who cares about you deeply in turn. She makes you feel comfortable. She makes you feel safe. I think that telling her the truth might help you as you process this, and that telling her might help you to navigate the complex feelings you have about your brother. I suspect she'd support you through the journey of understanding the feeling. Just remember - you dictate your own story. You get to decide what and how much to tell her, if you decide to tell her anything at all. You don't need to tell her everything immediately," she added quickly. "But I think you should consider over the next few days whether telling her could help you through this."

Clive mulled that over. He knew that talking things over and putting them into words could be freeing, but the thought of speaking everything aloud was like an insurmountable obstacle. Already, he could feel the words sticking in his throat, because if he said it out loud, then it was real.

But regardless of his reluctance to speak on the topic, it was real, and every time he thought about it, he felt like he could fall apart all over again. He didn't want Jill to pick up the pieces, but neither did he think he could face this without her support.

"I'll think it over," he finally conceded.

"Good," Isabelle said. There was a brief pause before she said, "We have a few minutes left in our session. How are you feeling?"

Exhausted, he wanted to say. Wrung out. Heartbroken. Introspective. Freed. They were all the truth - and all common feelings that seemed to come from his sessions with Isabelle. Even if they were draining, they were liberating in the same note, and left him with much to think about. "I'm fine," he said.

But there was one more topic that he wanted to ask her about before he let her go. He had debated whether or not to bring it up with her, had almost decided against it, but now that their time was almost over the words practically fell out of his mouth in his eagerness to tell her. "My friend," he started, but stuttered to a halt, suddenly having second thoughts.

Isabelle waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she prompted, "What about your friend?"

He drummed his fingers against the desk, trying to figure out the best way to explain himself. "When we were young," he began hesitantly. "We were very close. So close, in fact, that I...may have developed feelings for her in my youth."

Isabelle chuckled, the sound rich and indulgent. "You had a childhood crush? How sweet."

Clive laughed, too, though his was much more nervous, because admitting what he was going to say next was much more difficult. "The thing is," he said, tracing his pointer finger over the grain of the wooden table, "now that we're older and have reconnected, I think some of those feelings have been...resurfacing."

"Ah. The childhood crush has come back to haunt you."

"It has," he replied, and now that it was out in the air, he couldn't stop the words from flowing out. "And it's becoming...inconvenient. I hadn't wanted to admit it to myself at first. I thought I was just happy to be with an old friend - and I was, but it's more than that. I can't stop thinking about her - I wake up everyday thinking of her and fall asleep every night wondering if she’s thinking of me, too. I'll see something that I think is funny or makes me smile or makes me think, and my first thought is that I want to share it with Jill. I spend my days trying to figure out how to spend more time with her, but the time I spend with her never seems to be enough. I was trying to convince myself this is normal, and so I didn't let myself think it could be anything more than friendship because I didn't think I should have room for anything with everything else going on in my life, but when she held me last night, I was enraptured, and I was forced to admit the truth."

The words finally slowed to a trickle, and the truth finally slipped out. "I...care about her." He had known it in his heart for weeks now - perhaps even years - had known it in his head for a day, but it was only now, with the words hanging in the tepid air of the study room, that it finally felt immutably real.

Isabelle allowed his statement to hover for a moment in silence, giving him time to absorb his own admission. Finally, she asked, "And now what?"

Clive blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "What do you mean?"

"You have feelings for this girl," Isabelle prompted. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Oh," he said, though the answer seemed obvious to him. "Well, I'll need to move on, I suppose. I obviously can't tell her."

"And why not?" Isabelle asked.

Clive's brow furrowed. "Because...clearly nothing could come of it."

"And why not? "

Bewildered, Clive was forced to confront the possibility of telling Jill how he felt about her. Doubtless she knew that he cared for her, but did she know he cared for her? How would she react if he told her? How would he react if she decided she wanted to make something of his feelings? The thought was almost too much to bear - that he and Jill could have something together. Even the thought of it sent his brain spiraling pleasurably. At the same time, it made him want to panic.

So he did his best to rationalize it to Isabelle. "We live too far apart," he tried. "We could never make it work long term."

"There's no harm in a summer fling," Isabelle countered. "Besides, you clearly want to try to keep in contact with her after all this is over. What difference does it make if it's a long-distance friendship or relationship?"

"Every difference," he shot back, though he couldn't think of any particular one at that moment.

"And you're moving," she continued on. "There's no saying if the move could bring you closer to her."

Founders. Living near Jill. It would be like every one of his childhood dreams come true. His fantasy of being her neighbor and going to knock on her door to get her to come out and play quickly morphed into a dream about meeting her for coffee on lunch breaks from work. He had to physically shake his head to try to dislodge the thought, but it did little to help. That particular fantasy was going to frequent his every waking moment now.

"We're co-workers," he impressed upon her. "Isn't it immoral to date someone you work with? Isn't that...uncomfortable?"

"It can be," Isabelle conceded, "but the two of you are only co-workers for the next month or so. Why not pursue something?"

Clive opened his mouth to tell her why not, but nothing came out. He didn't know how to argue with that. "I...don't know," he stammered out, all of his protests resolved but still feeling deeply agitated by the idea of telling Jill how he felt. "I just...I don't think I can."

"You can if you want to," Isabelle told him. She paused for a moment, before asking, "Do you want to be with her?"

Did he want to be with Jill? Even as she posed the question, he knew the answer was a resounding yes. In his childhood, he had imagined a future where he could see her every day, and later on a future where he'd get to kiss her again, but as an adult, he could imagine a relationship. Dinner dates, movie nights, sharing books. After taking her out a few times, inviting her back up to his apartment for the night and burying himself in the scent of wildflowers. Much later on, getting a bigger place and moving in together. Greeting her when she came back from work with a bouquet of snow daisies in his hands just so he could see her smile. "I do," he whispered, more to himself than to Isabelle.

"Clive, have you had many serious relationships?" Isabelle asked out of the blue.

Clive sat up a little straighter in his seat. He debated lying to her to cover his embarrassment, but decided against it. Every time he lied in therapy he felt like he took a step back. "...No," he finally said. He had partaken in more casual relationships while in the military, meeting up with people for dates while on shore leave or rushed encounters with his fellow soldiers. That wasn't to say that there weren't people he had grown to care for, people who he had wanted more with, but each time it had simply fallen apart. At first, he had chalked it up to a symptom of his military service - he was away for long stretches of time, and even if he wasn't, his partners could never truly identify with the stresses that came with his service. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true - it was because he struggled to connect with them for fear that they'd mock him if they knew the depth of his feelings.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, Isabelle spoke again. "Both you and Jill are adults," she told him. "Adults have adult relationships of all sorts, and you don't need to feel shame about them. What you decide to pursue with her is your business - it may require some discretion around your co-workers, but if you're both interested, if she makes you happy, and if you want a relationship with her, there's no reason you shouldn't pursue something more."

Clive didn't respond, still mulling over her words. Isabelle, characteristically, picked up that there was something more to his quietness. "Unless...there's something holding you back?" she hinted.

He jumped guiltily. They weren't even in the same room, and he felt like she could still read his body language just from the weight of his silence. "What if - " he cut himself off, suddenly feeling foolish.

"What if...?" Isabelle prompted gently.

"What if she doesn't feel the same?" Clive whispered. "What if she rejects me?"

Isabelle hummed thoughtfully. "She might," she said considerately. "But it sounds like you care for her for more than what she can offer you in a romantic relationship. If she doesn't feel the same, you don't necessarily have to lose the companionship you've built up with her. Based on what you've told me, she sounds like she cares for you a great deal - at least as much as you care for her. Even if she's not interested in you romantically, I suspect you'll still be able to continue your friendship as long as you respect her rejection."

But it wasn't the rejection that scared him - it did, but it was a fear he felt he could manage if he knew their friendship could maintain intact. However, there was something that did scare him more than any other thought, a fear he didn't think he could get past if it came true. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but it had haunted his interactions with Jill, was the reason he held himself back with her, was the reason he held himself back in every relationship he had ever had. "What if she laughs at me when I tell her?" he whispered, cutting straight through to the heart of the matter. "What if she makes fun of me?"

The gears were turning once again in Isabelle's head. He could hear it in the neutral, calm tone of her voice when she asked, "What reason would she have to laugh at you?"

And so Clive took a deep breath before letting the story of their first kiss spill out of him. He told her of his childhood crush, of going to find her on the docks their last day of camp together, about the way she had leaned in and kissed him. He told her about how elated he had been when he found out that his feelings for her were returned, and how they had been crushed into the dust when he had heard her laughing with her other friends that day. The knowledge that she had found out about his interest in her and weaponized it for a laugh had been soul-crushing at the time, even if in hindsight he knew it was a childish prank.

He tried to explain that feeling to Isabelle, too. "I know it was just a bit of teenage fun," he told her at the end of his story after he had bared his heart to her. "To be clear, I bear her no ill will over the incident. She was just as much of a kid as I was, playing a prank on me, and I know she didn't mean to hurt me. I've gotten over it since then - in hindsight, my crush was a little silly, and my overreaction even more so." He tried to laugh to show how humorous he found the whole incident now, but it was sharp and forced, a bitter, broken sound.

Isabelle had been silent as she listened to his story. He could almost hear her gnawing on the end of her pen. "You don't sound like you found it silly at the time," she finally said.

"I was upset at the time, but I moved past it. I moved past it a long time ago." But even as he said the words, he knew they were an outright lie. They tasted like dust on his tongue. He leaned forward and braced his elbow on the table, carding the fingers of his free hand through his hair. "At least, I thought I did. I should have," he sighed. "I just...keep thinking of it at the worst times. I wish I could let it go. It's silly."

Isabelle didn't miss a beat. "I don't think it's silly at all," she said smoothly. "You were a teenager and at a delicate stage of your life. You were experiencing an attraction to someone you already cared deeply about. Even if she didn't feel the same, you would have hoped she would have let you down gently and would have treated you as a friend. Instead, she made fun of you. It's natural to feel hurt when someone teases you, especially a close friend, and particularly one you were feeling a strong connection to."

It was hard to argue when she put it that way. "It did hurt at the time," he admitted. "It took me months to recover - but it was so long ago. Why does it keep popping up in my head now? "

"Did you move past it?"

That gave him pause. "What do you mean?"

"What did you do to recover from this? How did you confront it and move on?"

He thought about that for a moment. "I was inconsolable for a while," he said, "and then I was angry with her. In the end, I just decided to let it go as long as she apologized to me - I cared about and missed her too much to stay mad. It didn't matter, in the end - I never went back to camp after that, and I didn't see her again until just a few weeks ago."

"And did she?"

Clive tilted his head. "Did she what?"

"Apologize."

His brow furrowed. "Why would she apologize? It was so long ago."

"It was," Isabelle mused, "but it still left its scar on your psyche. You wanted to see her again. You wanted an apology for how she hurt you, as is your due, but because you never got that apology, you never got to heal that hurt. You've carried it with you since then - subconsciously, perhaps, but the scar was still there, possibly even affecting you in ways you wouldn't expect. Now that she's back in your life, it's like ripping a scab off - the injury has always been there, but you didn't notice it until it started bleeding again."

He had never thought of it like that. Clive had endured physical injuries aplenty over the years, but he was still new to figuring out how to care for emotional injuries. The comparison made sense, though the idea that Jill had somehow permanently emotionally wounded him didn't sit well with him.

"She didn't mean to do it," he said quietly. "She's my friend, she wouldn't hurt me just for the fun of it. I can't just accept that she somehow psychologically scarred me. She's done so much for me. I care about her."

"You can care about someone and still be upset with them," Isabelle said gently. "You're allowed to be hurt and angry and be her friend at the same time. It just means you need to figure out how to confront the feeling if you want to maintain the friendship. If you keep it bottled up and don't face it, resentment will bleed in, and that friendship will be doomed to wither and die."

Clive allowed Isabelle's words to seep in for a moment. It was a strange feeling - to care so much about Jill and to accept that she caused him pain at the same time. He didn't like it. "So what do I do from here?" he asked quietly.

Isabelle hummed thoughtfully. "Have you ever asked Jill about what was going through her head that day?" she asked.

"No, of course not. It was so long ago." Besides, that meant asking her directly for her feelings on a fumbling teenage kiss they had shared many years ago. He didn't know if he could bear the shame.

"I think that would be a good place to start," Isabelle told him. "Find out why she did what she did. I suspect there is more to this story than meets the eye, and I think it would be good for you to hear it, whatever it may be. Or perhaps her own actions left their own scar upon her, and she's been seeking a chance to apologize for what she did. You won't know until you ask her. You deserve closure on this, Clive, and it's not until you find out her side of the story that you'll know what you need to recover from it."

Closure. He had simply wanted to leave the whole incident in the past, to forget it had ever happened, but what Isabelle said had made a disturbing amount of sense. Still, he didn't know if he was ready to talk to Jill about his teenage crush on her, especially because he suspected it would lead into a conversation about his current feelings - a conversation he wasn't currently ready to have with her.

"I'll think on what you’ve said," he promised her, because he would. She had given him a lot to think about over the course of this session. He didn't think he would be ready to have that particular talk with Jill anytime soon, but his session with Isabelle had settled his nerves and helped him to get his thoughts in order.

He was still mulling it over as he stood outside the pharmacy, scrolling through his phone now that he finally had cell reception, when Jill pulled up into a space a bit down the road from him. He took a moment to admire her, resplendent even when she was squinting in the warm afternoon sunlight looking for him. He didn't know how many more opportunities he'd get to appreciate her like this - not after what he was mentally gearing himself up to tell her.

She smiled and waved when she caught sight of him. He tried to smile back, but it came off as forced, and her face was concerned when he climbed into the passenger seat next to her.

"Did everything go alright?" she asked as he buckled himself in.

"It did," he replied. "I got everything I needed. I'll be set through the end of camp."

A look of relief passed over her face. "Good. You had me worried for a moment," she sighed, before asking. "Are you hungry? We can go and get lunch if you're ready."

"Lunch would be wonderful," he replied. He glanced away from her, straight through the front windshield, unable to look her directly in the eye. He let out a deep breath before saying, "And then, after lunch, I'd like to take a walk with you.” He could see her eyes dart over to him in the rearview mirror, a silent question in her gaze. “If you are still willing to listen, I think…I'm finally ready to talk about it.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Clive was quiet as they made their way to lunch, still mulling over the implications of his conversation with Isabelle. He was glad that she had opened up an appointment slot for him - the past few days had been difficult for him, what with skipping his anxiety meds, the panic attacks, and his sudden realization about Jill. Therapy was never easy, but it always helped to clarify things for him, made it easy to see the path forwards and determined to try to walk it.

Actually walking it was a different story. Knowing what to do was the simple part - it was the execution that was harder. He knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to say when he left his session - but now that the moment was approaching, it was like a ball was forming in his throat to keep the words from coming out, a block forming in his mind so he couldn't even think of what to say. He still wanted to try, but remained thoughtful as he deliberated the best way to go about it.

Thankfully, Jill kept the conversation light as they waited for their food. The Dhalmekian spot that Gav had recommended was in a quieter corner of town, and since it was warm they had elected to sit out on the terrace. There were a number of other empty tables around them, with only a family with two young children eating on the opposite side of the area from them, leaving them to chat in peace. Every time Jill saw his face darken as he started to fret about how he would break the news to her, she'd comment on the nice weather, or the smell of the spices wafting out from the kitchen, or ask what his kids were planning for the camp talent show, or see if he had any guesses about which teenagers were partaking in a summer romance during the camp session.

The food, too, helped to distract him. In characteristic fashion, he ordered the spiciest thing in the menu - dried military rations were hardly known for the diversity of their spices, and so he had developed a love for spicy food whenever he was back on Storm just because it was hard to find when he was deployed. The burning on his tongue and lips and the tingling numbness spreading over the roof of his mouth made him feel alive and reminded him that he was home and at peace, and even kept the darkest of his thoughts at bay.

At one point, Jill was brave enough to reach out with her fork and steal a tiny piece of braised meat from his plate. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he cautioned.

"And why not?" she asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "If you are going to be dining with me very often, Clive, then you should know that I am an incorrigible food thief. You had best get used to it," she told him as she popped the meat into her mouth.

Clive didn't say anything, only raising an eyebrow at her in turn as he waited. She chewed once, twice, and then her expression began to change. He could tell the exact moment the spice hit, because her eyes went wide, and a flush began to creep its way up her cheeks. She coughed into her fist, and his eyebrow jumped up a little further, waiting for her to admit her mistake. She exhaled, trying to blow the hot air out of her mouth, fanning her face. By this point, the red was racing all the way down her neck.

Clive finally took pity on her. "That's why," he told her pointedly, though he was trying to hide his grin as he passed her his glass of water. She took it gratefully and began to guzzle it down, but he knew that it would only temporarily dampen the heat. Instead, he also passed her the small cup of yogurt that had come with his meal. He hadn't touched it yet, enjoying the burn from his food a little too much, but Jill gratefully took a couple of spoonfuls.

After a moment, Jill no longer looked like she was trying to breathe fire, though she still kept the yogurt close at hand, and a charming blush still stained her cheeks. She scowled at him. "You knew that would happen," she said hotly.

Founders, even her indignation was adorable. She was going to be the death of him. "I did," he replied smugly. "I even tried to warn you. It's not my fault you didn't listen."

"Don't worry. I won't steal food from your plate again," she huffed.

He wasn't sure he liked that thought as much. "You can steal food off of my plate anytime you'd like," he told her. "You can have anything you'd like from me."

sh*t. He hadn't meant it to come off quite like that. Clive dropped his gaze back down to his meal, shoving it around with his fork so he would have an excuse not to look at her, and hoped she would think the red in his cheeks came from the heat of his food.

"Except, perhaps, the spicy things," Jill said lightly, and when he looked up at her, her eyes were twinkling with amusem*nt. "You're free to keep those. Anything else is fair game."

They passed the rest of their lunch much like that, keeping their chatter playful as they shared stories and occasionally food. They paid for the last of it to go - a couple of servings of spiced tea brewed in milk, and carried out in paper travel mugs.

There was a large park about fifteen minutes outside of town, not fully in the mountains, but shaded by the forest with a winding trail passing through it. Calling it a hike would have been generous, for though the path was small, it was paved and the incline was gentle, but the park was a little too wild to be considered a simple stroll, either. The trees lining the path created the illusion of privacy, and the breeze through the branches and the babbling of the stream running through it carried any conversation away from prying ears.

As they left the parking lot behind, Clive allowed their discussion to lapse into a comfortable silence. Jill didn't push him to speak, and instead she enjoyed the sounds of the forest, inhaling the scent of pine and mulch. She seemed to sense that he needed time to gather his thoughts before he was ready to speak, and gave him the space to put them in order.

He finally stopped them about fifteen minutes into their excursion. They were a decent ways away from where they had parked their car by that point, in a more overgrown part of the forest. There was a fine layer of dirt over the path and weeds popping up through the cracks in the concrete. They had to brush past ferns that were creeping over the path on their way up to a wooden bridge passing over the creek. The wood was worn and moss was clinging to its base, but was surprisingly sturdy despite the way it creaked under their feet as they stepped out upon it.

He stopped them in the middle of the bridge, turning to lean against the railing and look out over the view. They weren't far above the forest floor - he could have jumped safely down into the shallow brook below - and the cover of the trees and the undergrowth kept him from seeing far into the distance. The birds calling in the branches and the water flowing below added a pleasant layer of white noise. Somewhere to his left, a woodpecker was tapping against a dried out birch. Even though he knew they were only minutes away from a major highway, they could have been in the middle of nowhere. It felt private. Protected. Peaceful.

The perfect place to tell Jill what he knew would be a difficult story to tell - and likely just as difficult for her to hear. He hoped he'd be able to internalize some of that peace, keep some of the calm and certainty that he had felt after he had finished his therapy session inside of him.

Jill came up to stand beside him. She draped her forearms over the railing as well, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as she listened to the babbling of the brook and the birdsong in the air. The slight breeze passing through caught her hair, and a strand fell across her eyes. He had to resist the urge to brush it out of her face.

She wasn't quite touching him, leaving a few inches of space between them. He leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder, and she turned to smile at him. He didn't smile back, his eyes serious. "You asked me yesterday, when you found me, if I wanted to talk about it. I told you I needed some time," he said hesitantly. He glanced away from her, back out to the riverbed running through the forest. "I think I'm ready to tell you - but only if you're still willing to listen."

"I am," she said without hesitation, "but, Clive - if you don't feel ready to talk about it, you don't need to. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not comfortable telling me."

He couldn't imagine anything he could say that he would be uncomfortable sharing with her. Even when they were young, her presence soothed and comforted him, and she seemed to understand the things he didn't say as much as the things that he did. Now that they were older, that familiarity had been creeping back in and built upon in the weeks since they had been reunited. He had feared that seeing him at his lowest would have broken that, but she had stared directly into the void and had not flinched. Now, their connection seemed stronger than ever, but he still feared that telling her the full truth would drive her away - if not for the knowledge of what he had become, then because she would finally know all the myriad ways he had been lying to her over the past few weeks.

"I want to tell you," he insisted. "It's...freeing, in a way. To speak your demons aloud to another person. They're not easy for me to talk about, but I feel like speaking about them helps to lose their hold over me. But more than that," he said, and paused to swallow thickly, "I feel that you are owed the truth."

"You owe me nothing," Jill contested fiercely, and he turned to look at her in surprise. "You aren't indebted to me because I helped you. I helped you because you are my friend and you were in pain. Don't start feeling like you're obligated to tell me anything because you think I deserve to know why, because you deserve to feel safe and unafraid, and I would happily do so again. So please - don't tell me because you feel you owe me some sort of explanation."

Her ferocious concern for him was moving, the way her silvery eyes blazed with indignation in his defense sent a flutter of warmth through his chest, another reminder of how much he cared about her. A smile broke briefly through his serious expression. "Thank you, Jill," he said genuinely, but the smile quickly faded from his face. "I appreciate it, but - I didn't mean it that way. I meant..."

Once again, he hesitated. He looked away from her and back into the depths of the forest, lacing his fingers together where they were hanging over the railing. "I feel like I've been lying to you," he said bluntly. "Or, if not truly telling falsehoods, then lying by omission. I think I need to come clean. I know it's not exactly keeping with our promise to leave our cares from the outside world out of our relationship and just live like we were kids again, but I think it's something I need to get off my chest. So...will you listen? Knowing that it might change your opinion of me, and that you might not want to be my friend again afterwards?"

That, more than anything, was what frightened him. He could handle her apathy, her anger, her shock, her pity. He could even handle it if she didn't care for him like he cared for her, though he knew it would hurt like nothing had ever hurt before. But more than any of that, it was her rejection that he feared the most - that she'd hear his long, sad story and decide that he wasn't worth the effort.

Warmth brushed up against the outside of his bicep, jerking him from the darkest of his thoughts. Jill had closed the distance between them, pressing her arm against his, leaning against him to offer the subtle comfort of her presence. She always knew just what to do to soothe him. "Of course I still want to listen," she murmured. "But know that, at the end of your story, I will still be your friend. What you tell me now won't change my opinion of you, I promise you that, because I know you as you are now . Whatever happened before, it isn't who you are anymore. It may have shaped you, but it isn't you ."

She always knew just what to say to pull him out of his own head. Clive swallowed thickly and finally got up the courage to turn his head to look at her. Her expression was open and understanding, her eyes gentle and unwavering from his own. Founders, she was beautiful - but he didn't look away, wanting to absorb the sight of her, the strength of her gaze meeting his own, just in case it was one of the last times he got to see it. "It's not a pretty story," he mumbled. His mouth felt dry.

"I wouldn't expect it to be; not after the state you were in yesterday," Jill replied easily, still collected in the face of his anxiety.

Clive huffed out the slightest laugh. "No, it wouldn't be," he admitted. "All right. I'll tell you my story. You never were one to flinch away from the truth, even when we were younger." He looked away from her, back at the landscape around them, but still focused on the warmth of her arm pressed against his own. It seemed to radiate out from that point, centering him as he sorted through his thoughts. "Where to start..."

"The beginning seems like a good place," Jill suggested cheekily.

"That it does," he agreed, and the story finally began to take shape in his mind. "Do you remember what I told you that first night we were together again, right before the camp session started? About how I took custody of Joshua?"

"I do," she replied. "You said your mother became...'disinterested' in parenting, I think?"

He nodded. "’Disinterested’ doesn't cover the full story, but...yes. Things deteriorated over the years. I tried my best to shield Joshua from the worst of it, and when I was old enough, I was able to take custody of him and remove him from the situation entirely. I still think that was the best possible decision I could have made, but I was only eighteen - barely more than a kid myself. I had graduated high school, but I had no money, no job experience, no place to live. I received a small stipend from the government to care for Joshua due to the circ*mstances of how he was removed from our mother’s care, but it wasn't nearly enough to support us. I needed to find work and shelter quickly, or Joshua would be taken away from me - sent into foster care or returned to my mother."

"It couldn't have been easy for you."

"It wasn't, but there was an easy solution," he replied. Easy perhaps wasn't the most accurate term, but at the time, it had seemed like the only choice available to him. When given only one option, it was an easy choice to make.

Realization dawned on Jill. "Oh. The military."

Clive nodded. "Because I entered the military, Joshua and I could live together on base. I got a paycheck in addition to the stipend and we had a roof above our heads and a bed to sleep in at night. I was able to afford food and utilities and the clothes on his back. I was frequently called away for training or work, and we hardly lived in the most glamorous of circ*mstances, but we were safe and we were together. It was all that mattered."

If only it could have stayed that way.

Clive took a deep breath. "Do you know what the military does?"

Jill tilted her head slightly. "Fight when there's a war, I presume."

"Yes," he replied, "but what if there are no wars to fight in? Why keep a standing military if their only purpose is to fight in wars? What else do they do?"

Jill's expression turned thoughtful. "I'm...not sure," she admitted.

"For the most part," he said, "Nothing as comparatively dangerous as entering a warzone. We did humanitarian aid, we participated in search and rescue operations, helped clean up after natural disasters. Lots of guard duty for the political bigwigs who want to keep up the appearance of strength and prestige. As much as we do all that, we train to make sure we're ready in case an armed conflict does break out."

"Training is where they found me. I acquitted myself well, and slowly found myself being given more and more specialized training. I was shipped away from Joshua to far-off military bases for advanced combat exercises, given tests to check my reflexes and thinking, put in situations where I had to push myself further and further. None of the other trainees were treated this way."

"Finally, I confronted my superior officer about it - no easy thing, mind you," he told her. "After some prodding, he finally admitted that they were testing me - since I showed promise during my training, special forces began to take an interest in me and how I was doing. They wanted to recruit me. He told me it would mean deployment to other lands, more work away from home, away from Joshua. I'd actually be put in situations where I'd have to use my combat training - but it would also mean a larger paycheck and greater benefits, as well."

"And you said yes?" Jill asked.

Clive chuckled. "I said no," he said. "My superior officer tried to bribe me, cajole me, even yelled at me, but I refused to budge. Though we didn't have much, Joshua and I had each other, which was more important to me than glory or money or anything else he could offer me. Eventually, he was forced to relent, and we laid the matter to rest."

Clive's head dipped down again, staring at the water rushing below the bridge. "Or so I thought," he whispered.

Jill shifted her weight, the skin of her arm rubbing up against his. He was wearing his hoodie - he wished he could feel her touch against his skin, but even the warmth of her pressed against him and her serene gaze on his face helped to steady him.

"You may remember," he said slowly, "that Joshua was always sickly as a child."

Jill nodded. "I do," she said. "There was one summer where he fell ill for almost two weeks. We used to visit him in the infirmary almost every day and read to him or draw pictures or put on puppet shows and plays to keep him entertained, because he wasn't well enough to be among the other children."

He did remember that. He remembered playing the Sir Crandall to her Saint Sybil and seeing Joshua squeal and laugh as they played at sword fights or when he knelt at her feet to kiss the hem of her robe (actually the hanging arm of her jacket, which she had tied around her waist). The memory was tinged with warmth and fondness, even if he remembered staying up late every night worrying himself sick over Joshua's condition.

"Joshua had always been frail as a child," he said, trying to cling to the soft feeling of the old memories even as the more recent ones threatened to slice him open like so many shards of glass. "He was always easily injured, was always the first to get sick, and when he did fall ill he'd always be the sickest. We never knew quite what was wrong, but I was always cognizant of his delicate condition, and I did everything I could to keep him healthy while giving him a normal life. For a time, he seemed to be getting better - or at least, not getting any worse. He'd still get sick frequently, had far from a perfect attendance record at school, but every day he'd get up and try again, because he wanted to do well in his classes, wanted to be out among his friends. It wasn't perfect, but he was able to live something close to a normal life."

He let out a shuddering exhale. "...For a while, at least," he said. "We had a peaceful couple of years after that, but then Joshua suddenly started to get worse. He'd spend days too weak to get out of bed and he lost much of his appetite, and he started to lose weight at an alarming rate. It was to the point where I had to beg him to eat and drink some days, and even then I could see he only did it to help me feel better, not because he really wanted to. There was so much more - fainting spells, exhaustion, even seizures. There were so many nights I had to rush him to the hospital because I didn't know what else to do - and the whole time, I'd be missing work, getting shouted down by the officers for leaving early or showing up late or not showing up at all because someone needed to care for Joshua. The doctors kept trying things to fix him, but they were short term solutions at best, and when it wore off he'd get even sicker than before. And during all of this, the medical bills were piling up, but I had no way to pay them because the insurance wouldn't cover his treatment and my paychecks were getting cut for missing work. I was barely even twenty, and I was so lost and confused and I didn't know where to turn for help, didn't even know who or where to ask, but more than that, I was so, so scared that I was going to lose my brother - the only thing of value I had left in the world. The only thing that gave me meaning."

By the end of it, Clive's voice was shaking, and his hands had clenched into trembling fists. His eyes burned at the recollection - of how frightened he was that, after everything he had done, everything he had gone through, he might still lose Joshua. He wouldn't have known what he would have done if he had lost him at that point.

Jill's hand came to rest on the back of his balled up fist. "You were barely more than a child," she murmured. Her thumb came to stroke soothingly over his knuckles until he slowly unclenched them. "You took everything onto your own shoulders to provide a better life for your brother, and you felt it crashing down right before your eyes despite all of your hard work. You must have been so overwhelmed."

He wanted to reach out and take her hand to lace their fingers together, but didn't. Even so, the slow and steady motion of her tracing circles over his knuckles helped to center him. "I was," he whispered. "I was so, so frightened - and right when I was at my lowest, when everything was slipping through my fingers and I thought I would lose all that I had worked so hard for, my salvation appeared - or, at least, what I thought was my salvation at the time."

"And what was that?" Jill asked, not releasing his hand.

"The special forces came back and gave me a second chance," he said. "They told me the same thing they said the previous time - that I'd receive better pay, better benefits, better insurance for both myself and Joshua. Even more than that, they told me that they could cover everything related to Joshua's care - they'd set him up in a long term care facility, with doctors and nurses to take care of him, they'd pay for all of his medications and anything else he needed. They'd even get him access to exclusive drug trials and experimental treatments not available to the general public yet if his doctors thought it would be in his best interest. All I had to do was say yes. It was the easiest decision of my life."

"It doesn't sound like it was much of a decision at all," Jill told him.

"It really wasn't." Clive laughed bitterly. "It wasn't what I wanted, but it was for the best. Perhaps I couldn't be at Joshua's side, but he would be safe, he would have the best care the world could offer, and, hopefully with all of that going for him, he would be healthy. If he could have all this, then perhaps it was for the best that he and I were separated."

"It must have been hard for you," Jill said. "To have to leave him behind when you went into the special forces."

Clive nodded slowly. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do." He let that statement hang in the air for a moment, ringing deafeningly in the serenity of the forest.

Finally, Jill broke the quiet. "So you entered special forces," she prompted him gently.

"I did," he said slowly, wondering how to explain himself best. "We talked about what the military does in peacetime. However, I don't know if you remember, but we're not technically at peace."

Jill's thumb stopped tracing designs into the back of his hand, and when Clive glanced over, he could see the confusion in her eyes. "We're not?" Her expression turned pensive as the gears turned in her head, and he could almost see the way she was thinking back to her old history classes, going over every armed conflict over the past few centuries. Because he was watching her so intently, he could see the moment when it hit her. "Oh. Waloed," she finally realized.

Clive nodded. "Waloed," he confirmed. The war between Ash and Storm had happened decades ago, and there hadn't been an official skirmish between the two landmasses since well before either of them had been born. However, on paper, the war had never truly ended - there had simply been an official ceasefire without any clear resolution. Tension still simmered lightly between the two, too many old hurts between the continents left to truly end the war but not enough ire to reignite it, either.

"To be clear, there haven't been any official armed conflicts between Storm and Ash since the ceasefire was signed," Clive clarified.

As per usual, Jill picked up on what he wasn't saying just as much as she understood what he was. "And what about unofficial armed conflicts?" she asked slowly.

She had always been a quick thinker. "That's where the special forces came in," he said quietly, looking away from her once again. "They told us that our current peace doesn't come for free - that if we didn't work to maintain it, Waloed would come crashing over our borders again and bring war back to the Twins once more. The standing military acted as a deterrent, but sometimes they needed more than a disincentive. Sometimes, preventative actions needed to be taken."

Jill's thumb began its slow journey over his knuckles again, feeling the rise and fall of each one. "I take it you were in Waloed, then?"

He nodded. "We crossed the border several times during my time with them - sometimes being airdropped in, sometimes dropped on a deserted coast by ship. Once, we had to swim across most of the Narrow in the dead of winter. It was guerilla warfare - we struck at military bases building up their forces, sabotaged scientific facilities developing weaponry, sometimes assassinated political targets trying to stoke the fires of war. We wore no colors, and if we died, we'd die nameless and without a homeland - every country in Storm would deny that we even existed, and we accepted it, thinking we were keeping the peace."

He let out a shaky exhale. "Truth be told, I'm not even sure we were keeping the peace," he told her. "They told us that what they were doing was for the greater good - the sacrifice of a few lives for the protection of countless more. You've probably heard all the stories about Waloed, the rumors they peddle. They told us the same ones, hammered them into us so we wouldn't hesitate when the time came. They told us that King Barnabus was a fanatic and a madman, that his people worshiped him like a god and wouldn't hesitate to throw themselves onto the pyre if he directed them to, to die to bring all of Storm to its knees if it was his whim. What we were doing was simply deterrence - so he'd never get strong enough to turn his greedy gaze back to us."

"But the truth is very different, and I saw it every time I made the crossing. The Waloeders - they're no different from us. They get up every morning and begrudgingly drag themselves to work, they pick up their kids from school and make dinner and come up with excuses not to do their chores. They love and grieve and rage and celebrate no different from anyone else - they were just unlucky enough to be born on the wrong side of the Narrow."

He was shaking again, though not far gone enough to fall back into it. Jill leaned the weight of her shoulder a little further against his, subtly encouraging him to continue, and he did albeit falteringly. "I did question it," he said quietly. "I wondered at the purpose of what we were doing, wondered if we were actually making the world a better place with our 'deterrence'. If they didn't feel they were constantly under attack by invisible forces, would the Waloeders stop trying to build their armies? Isn't it natural for a man who feels unsafe in his own home to try to find a way to defend it?" Clive swallowed thickly. "But such thinking was...discouraged. The leader of my unit told me to keep my concerns to myself - it wasn't my job to question my orders, simply to obey them."

"And...I did," he admitted. "I kept my concerns to myself, and hated myself every day for it. I think some of the others had worries too, but we never discussed it. I couldn't even discuss it with Joshua - I was too afraid that hearing about it would cause him undue stress and make him sicker, but he could tell that something was going on, and was tenacious about getting me to talk about it. He always had a way of prising the truth from me - rather like you, actually." He shot her a watery smile, but she didn't return it, still observing him. He couldn't read her face, her expression closed off as it did when she was thinking deeply. He didn't know what it was about, but she hadn't removed her hand from his own, which he took as a good sign.

"I despised what I had to do, and I despised what it made me," he told her. "Joshua knew it too. Every time I came home, he could see how it ate away at me. He'd try to convince me to leave the military, to come home and find new work. He said he was getting better, and that he could work now, too. By that point, he was past eighteen - there was no need for me to keep supporting him, because he felt well and there was no danger of him being taken away and returned to our mother."

"But it was precisely because he was getting better that I knew I had to go back every time," Clive said, his voice shaking. "All of the doctors and nurses, the experimental treatments, the around the clock care - they were working, and with their help Joshua got stronger every day. I knew that the moment I left the military, all those benefits would be taken away, and chances were that Joshua would relapse even worse than before. If I left, I might lose him - for good this time."

Finally, Clive drew away from her. He pulled his hand from beneath her own and rested his elbows on the railing. He pressed his face into his palms, his fingers sliding into his hair to grip it, unable to look at her expression, undeserving to touch her.

"I made a choice," he mumbled, his voice choked. "I decided that I would save him. Even if the things I did were monstrous, even if what I saw unmade me, even if I'd be condemned for that choice - I was going to save Joshua, no matter what it took."

He didn't speak for a long time, unwilling to look at her and see the disgust that he was sure he would find in her eyes.

"You decided to put the lives of the few above the lives of the many," Jill finally said, her voice eerily calm.

He didn't know how to interpret her tone. He nodded once into his hands. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "It was - unforgivable . And I know that I will never find atonement for it."

He listened for her - to scream at him for what he had done, for the rush of air before she struck him in rage, for the crunch of her footsteps as she walked away from him in disgust.

He couldn't have expected what she did next.

Jill's arms wrapped around one of his own, and he jumped at the sudden contact. She tugged it back against her chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, pressed her side against his anywhere she could.

"Clive, you were faced with an impossible choice," she whispered. To his surprise, now it was her own voice that was thick with emotion. "I can't speak to atonement or righting wrongs. I'm not the person to ask if anyone is deserving of such things. But you sought to do a good thing - you wanted to save your brother's life. Grant yourself some forgiveness - if not for the things you've done, then for the reason that you did them."

He inhaled sharply when Jill turned and buried her face into his shoulder, her hands tightening where they were wrapped around his arm. It was only then that he realized that her fingers were shaking, trembling against his arm. He lifted his head from his hands to look at her, though he couldn't see her expression with her face hidden as it was. Had his story moved her so much? Or was there something else going through her mind that was making her quiver? He didn't know, and she didn't seem inclined to raise her head and give him an answer.

"I'm trying," he whispered. "I've been trying ever since I left, to let it go little by little, but..."

"I know," she mumbled into the fabric of his hoodie. "It's so hard. Trust me, I know."

He wanted to put his arm around her, to wrap her up in his embrace and take comfort in her own, but he still had more of the story to tell. She didn't yet fully fathom how he had lied to her yet, and there was one more part of the tale to tell before he could admit to it. Almost unconsciously, his free hand came up to trace over the ridges of his scar, the skin rough beneath his fingertips.

Jill must have seen the motion, for after giving a trembling exhale against him, she lifted her head to look at him again. He glanced down at her fingers wrapped around his arm. He needed her support if he was going to return to this moment, so he slowly removed his hand from his own face, dropping it to touch her hand. Perhaps she saw the distance in his eyes, or perhaps she needed the support just as much, because she released his arm just enough to take his hand in her own.

With that steady contact, her hand squeezing his own to ground him in reality, he found the words to tell her.

"When you found me yesterday," he started haltingly. "There was a specific place I went back to. It's always that moment that draws me back in, whenever everything gets to be too much." She didn't move her head from his shoulder, but her fingers tightened around his own, the steady pressure keeping him with her.

"It was one of my last crossings into Waloed," he told her. "My unit was supposed to take out a military base in one of the most remote parts of the country. We had been traveling undercover, avoiding towns, keeping to the wilderness so we wouldn't be discovered. It was both isolating and terrifying, because we knew if we were discovered, we'd either be killed or captured and tortured for information. Not an appealing prospect."

"By the time we finally arrived at their base of operations, we had been living in the wilderness for weeks, living off only what we brought with us and our own survival skills. We were tired and dirty and exhausted and we all just wanted to finish the job and return home safely. In the end, this was our downfall - our exhaustion made us sloppy."

The memory came back in a trickle, Clive only letting it in piece by piece. If he let it all come rushing back, the flood would sweep him away in its current. Instead, he focused on Jill's warm presence by his side, on the scent of wildflowers in her hair, on the singing of birds in the trees and the breeze through the branches. Waloed hadn't been like this. Much of the territory he had been moving through was rocky deadlands, with the only foliage being petrified trees. He tried to focus on that as he got to the most difficult part of the story.

"We were split into pairs to enter different parts of the facility," he said. "I went with Biast - one of the only members of my squadron that I might have called a friend. Even beyond that, we understood each other, and we worked well together. We always had. We were frequently paired together like this, and our unit leader knew that we'd work together to get the job done right."

Clive exhaled shakily. "But...it all went wrong," he whispered. "Somewhere along the way, we stumbled into a trap that they had set for us. Biast took the worst of it. We staggered out of there together, just barely supporting each other, with the Waloeder army hot on our tail. We knew we wouldn't be able to flee fast enough, so we hid instead - we'd stay low and sneak out when they finally let down their guard."

He could still remember it like it was yesterday - all the alarms going off in the facility, looking back when he heard Biast stumble, and picking him up by instinct. He couldn't stop to think, couldn't pause to feel his fear, because if he hesitated then they would both be dead. They had hid in an old warehouse behind some shipping containers, Biast cradled in Clive's arms. They could hear the Waloeders calling to their comrades, calling out for them, telling them that if they came out of hiding and surrendered themselves, they'd ransom them and send them home intact. They both knew it was a lie, but it didn't make the prospect of going home safely any less enticing in the moment. Throughout the whole thing, Clive had his hand pressed to Biast's side to try to staunch the bleeding.

"We were exceptionally well-hidden. The Waloeders couldn't find us, and our unit had realized things had gone wrong and were trying to draw attention away from us." Once, one of the soldiers has passed right by their hiding spot. Biast had been drifting in and out of consciousness by that point, and in that moment, he had whimpered in pain, his injuries starting to overcome him. Clive had pressed his hand to his mouth, because the footsteps had stopped right by their hiding spot. They both froze, Biast struggling to keep his breathing slow and steady even with Clive's palm blocking the way. It was only pure luck that something had shifted further in the warehouse, drawing the soldier searching for them further away from their hiding spot.

Jill's hand on his arm stroked up and down his bicep, bringing him back to reality. He looked back at her, focusing on her eyes instead of looking into the past. "You and Biast got out?" she prompted him gently.

Clive slowly shook his head. "No," he mumbled. "The Waloeders never found us, but they knew we were there. Eventually, they decided that they wanted us dead, and would make that happen at any cost - even if they had to take down the whole building around us." His voice faded down to a whisper by the end of his statement. "They started setting off explosives all around the base. Maybe they knew we were there, or maybe it was just bad luck, but the warehouse we were hiding in was the first one they bombed. Biast realized what was happening before I did, but it was too late. The only thing he could do was throw himself over me when the blast went off and the whole building came crashing down over us."

He couldn't look at her anymore, but he did squeeze her fingers in his own. "We were stuck under there," he said softly. "Trapped underneath hundreds of pounds of rubble, the entire weight of the shattered building on top of us. Biast took the worst of it. He was on top of me, keeping the bulk of the weight off of me, had taken the brunt of the explosion, and thus the worst of the injuries. His only saving grace was that the initial explosion knocked him unconscious. I couldn't do anything - if I so much as twitched, the debris would shift and crush us both. I couldn't move, couldn't dig us out, could barely even breathe. I just had to wait and hope that our unit found us and got us out in time. And eventually, they did."

His vision was beginning to get misty now, even with her gentle touch grounding him. Biast had always been good to him. Even if they never talked about Clive's struggles with being a soldier, he always knew how to draw Clive out of his own head. If he couldn't break free of the horrors of what he did and experienced, at least Biast knew how to make him forget them for a while. "Biast. My friend," he said hoarsely. "He died while we were under that rubble. I couldn't tell you when. I think I realized at some point, but I couldn't think about it, or I would panic, and if I panicked, I would die. He saved my life, gave his life for mine." He had attended Biast's funeral when they were back on Storm. Like many of the other soldiers in special forces, he had few friends and family. The funerary chapel had been mostly empty, and Clive had sat in the front pew, his face still bandaged and his crutches leaned on the seat next to him. He sat there, unable to move, unable to feel, still too shocked at seeing Biast's once-smiling face laying cold and expressionless in that casket, until it had gotten dark and the minister had stopped by to offer his condolences and kindly remind him that they were preparing to shut down for the night.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Jill murmured, bringing him back to reality once more. Clive tried to blink away the tears, instead focusing on her weight leaning against him. "Is that where I found you last night?" she asked.

Clive nodded shortly. "Yeah," he said, a little hoarse as he swallowed back the tears. "Sometimes, I have other memories of Waloed I get drawn back into, but that one's the worst. That's the place I always go back to - trapped under the rubble, trying not to panic, with my friend lying dead on top of me."

Jill shifted slightly. She left her hand twined with his, as if sensing he still needed that support, but removed her other hand from his arm. Instead, she reached up and touched his cheek. "Is that where this came from?" she asked, tracing her thumb over the hard, shiny skin of his scar. He glanced over at her, a question in his eyes. "You always seem to touch it when you're worried about something. I can see it in your eyes," she explained.

She had always known how to read him. In fact, she'd only seemed to improve in the relatively short time since they'd been reunited. "Yeah," he said roughly. "When Biast threw himself over me, he took the worst of the blast - most of the debris struck him in the back. There was a piece of shrapnel that struck me in the face, a couple more across the rest of my body, as well. I had dozens of cuts and bruises, a cracked rib, a broken leg. I was in bad shape when my unit finally dug me out from under the rubble. Frankly, it was a miracle that I survived at all, and even more of one that we managed to get back to the rendezvous point to be picked up. I was in and out of the hospital for months."

His lips tilted up just slightly in the bitterest of smiles. "But...there was a silver lining. I was shipped back to Sanbreque for my recovery, and because of that, I got to see Joshua again."

Jill stroked over his cheek one more time before sliding her hand down his jaw to rest on his shoulder. It would have been intimate enough to make him shiver in any other situation, but he knew he still had one more part of the story to tell - the part where he had to come clean on his lie. "It must have been nice to see your brother again," she said. Her smile was heartfelt and joyful - but only because she didn't know what was coming.

"It was," he replied. "His care facility wasn't far from the hospital where I was being taken care of. He was doing relatively well at that point - still ill, but getting stronger every day. His nurse used to sneak him out to visit me for a few hours every day. I think she must have had a crush on him - she never could say no to him." Clive tilted his head back to take in the warmth of the sunlight. "I was so glad to have him back in my life again," he whispered.

But just like everything else, he knew it couldn't last.

He tilted his chin back down to look at the stream. "After that, I was...different," he told her. "I had been slowly changing for years by that point, little pieces of me breaking away with what I saw and did with each deployment. But after Biast died...everything seemed to change. I was anxious, I was stressed. I'd wake up screaming in the night and would jump at shadows all through the day. I couldn't feel happy anymore. I couldn't feel much of anything anymore. Joshua at least took some of the edge of it off - even if I was suffering, every time I saw him, I'd be reminded of what I was suffering for, and I'd know that he was worth it."

He exhaled slowly. "Even though I hid it from him, Joshua knew that I was breaking down. He could see how each deployment wore away at me a little more. He had always tried to convince me to quit the military, though I was never able to. But as I healed, I found myself torn between two opposing forces - my superior officers in the special forces, who wanted me to return to active duty, and Joshua, who argued more vehemently every day for me to stay with him. He told me he hated seeing me like this, that he was worried about me, that he couldn't stand seeing me risk my life and wear myself down for his sake, not when he was well again. He used every trick in the book to get me to stay - he begged, he argued, he pleaded, he tried to bribe me. Once, he told me that I should retire and let him be the breadwinner for a while," he said with a laugh.

But the laughter went out of him after that. "Truthfully, I was impressed - he had so much energy, fought so ferociously on my behalf. He could do that because of all of the medical care he was receiving - and once again, I knew that he would lose that if I decided to leave the military. Seeing him so fired up was the first time I really felt something in months - and I knew I'd do anything to keep him healthy enough to feel that way, even if it meant that the force of his ire would be directed right back at me."

Jill's hand tightened over his shoulder. "And so you went back."

Clive nodded. "And so I went back. Joshua was furious with me, but I went back."

They were both silent for a moment, letting the sounds of the forest fill in the gap in their conversation.

"There's something I haven't told you yet," Clive said suddenly. "I should have told you about it weeks ago, but I didn't know how to. I came back to camp specifically to try to face it, but...I haven't been able to yet. Before I tell you, I want you to know that I'm sorry for keeping it from you. I never meant to keep it a secret, but that doesn't change the fact that I did. If you're angry with me, then I will understand. You'd deserve to be."

Jill pulled back a bit from him. She kept their fingers laced, but moved her hand from his shoulder back down to his arm so she could pull back and look at him. "Clive...?"

He didn't know how he was going to tell her. He hadn't managed to talk to anyone about it outside of therapy. He had gone through many sessions with Isabelle that were akin to pulling teeth before he had even begun to talk to her about it. In group therapy, he had only made the vaguest allusions to it, though Cid had extrapolated the rest - it was probably one of the reasons he had offered him an interview to be a camp counselor, in addition to knowing that he had attended Camp Bennumere when he was young.

"I went back to Waloed," he said quietly, "but I returned to Storm far sooner than any of us expected. I was called back at the end of the first mission, as opposed to pursuing multiple targets as we usually did. I thought they were simply taking it easy on me after my injury. I didn't even question it when they shipped me right back to the hospital after I arrived. It was only when they sat me down in the office for Joshua's doctor rather than my own that I realized that something was wrong."

His hand was shaking, even with her steady grip. Jill didn't move to squeeze his hand or run her fingers comfortingly over it as she had before. The intensity of her gaze was burning a hole through him.

"I ran when Joshua’s doctor walked through the door. I panicked and fled and locked myself in the janitor's closet, hiding myself away. There was a thunderstorm raging outside that day, and they all thought it was a panic attack brought on by the sound. They combed through the hospital looking for me, but I didn't want to be found. Even if they hadn't said it out loud, I knew what they were going to tell me, and I knew that I wasn't strong enough to hear it. If they couldn't find me, then they couldn't tell me, and if they never told me, then it wouldn't be real."

"But...they did find me. They brought me back to that doctor's office, sat me down, and gave me something warm to drink. And that's when the doctor broke the news." Clive's voice was quivering by that point. "They told me that Joshua got sick shortly after I left for Waloed that last time, and he took a very sudden and very drastic turn for the worse. The nurses found him in a bad way late one night in the hospital, and rushed in to save him, but - "

Finally, the tears gathering in his eyes spilled over and down his cheeks. He stumbled over his words, fighting to say them out loud. "Jill. Joshua, that night, he - Joshua - "

He choked before he could say it. He pressed his lips together, his chin quivering with the unspoken words.

"Clive," Jill said, her voice eerily collected though still full of emotion, projecting a strength he wished he could have. "Is Joshua dead?"

Clive gulped around the tightness in his throat. "Yes," he whispered in a quavering tone, and he heard Jill suck in air through her teeth. He thought her hand might have been shaking in his, but he couldn't tell for the tremble in his own fingertips.

"...And also, no," he whispered after a pause, and Jill's hand tensed in his fingers.

"I...don't understand," she whispered.

Clive took a slow, deep breath, trying to gather the words. He struggled to remember the way the doctor had explained it all those months ago, succinct and methodical, but still consoling. "Joshua was in a care facility, had the best doctors and nurses attending to him. If they had known something was happening, they would have gone to him quickly - but they didn't. Joshua isolated himself when I left. I think he was angry and frustrated, and he pushed even his friends among the staff away. It wasn't until his heart rate monitor went off at the nurse's station that they went in to check on him and realized he was having a stroke."

"They managed to save him," Clive choked out. "But - by that point, the stroke had wreaked havoc on his body and badly damaged his brain. They waited to see what would happen, but he simply didn't wake up. They tried every test they could think of, hooked him up to all sorts of machines and tested his brain function, and found that it was...minimal."

Now his shoulders were shaking, his breaths hiccupping with the force of his barely contained sobs. "They told me," he wheezed out, "That Joshua is never going to wake up. He's alive. He breathes. But he hasn't woken, no matter what they've tried, and based on his brain function, they don't think he will. Even if he does - which, according to the doctors, would be a miracle - there's no way of telling what type of person he would be. He would likely never be the same."

He finally dropped her hand, pulling his arm away and raising his hand to press it to his mouth to muffle the sobs. The pain in his chest hurt more than the shrapnel that pierced through him in Waloed, made him struggle to breathe, like the weight of the rubble pinning him down again was sitting atop him once more. He didn't deserve her touch, didn't deserve her sympathy, not now that she knew what he had kept from her.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry. Joshua was your friend too, and you deserved to know what happened to him. Founders, you asked me how he was that first day back at camp, and I flat-out lied to you, because I could barely even admit to myself that he was gone, and it's all my fault. If I had been there, if I had stayed behind like he had asked me to, he wouldn't have pulled away from everyone, would have had someone by his side when he got sick. Maybe I could have been there to help save him, but I wasn't. I abandoned him when he needed me most, and now he's lying in that hospital bed, probably forever. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be here."

By that point, he was literally gasping for air in between the tears. "I'm sorry, Jill," he babbled. "I didn't tell you because I did this to him, and I couldn't face my own guilt, but you still deserved to know. I'm so, so sorry."

He was prepared to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He wouldn't care if she didn't care for him anymore, wouldn’t even care if she didn't want to be his friend or if she abandoned him. He would have earned her ire, her scorn, all of that and more. But even if he deserved it, all he wanted was for her not to hate him.

But before any more blubbering apologies could fall from his lips, Jill's firm hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked it back, forcing him to turn and face her. He had only a moment to take in the determined glint in her eye, the moisture on her own cheeks, before she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and cradled the back of his neck in her other hand, pulling his head down into the crook of her shoulder. She tucked her arms around him and squeezed him in her embrace. Something about the force of her hug, her tightening arms around him, seemed to calm him just the slightest amount, like she was squeezing the tears and the fears out of him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she whispered right in his ear, surprisingly ferocious in the emotion of it. The effect was softened by the way she sniffled right afterwards. "What happened to Joshua wasn't your fault. It was a tragedy, and you have every right to be upset, but it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

He gave the barest wiggle, the most token resistance against her embrace, but she didn't release him. If anything, she hugged him all the tighter. "I lied to you," he whispered. "He was your friend. You deserved to know the truth, and I didn't tell you."

"Doesn't matter," she insisted through her own veil of tears. "You told me now, when you felt ready to face it, and I know now. That's what really matters."

It should have mattered more to her. He wanted to tell her that she should be furious with him. Some part of him wanted her to take her ire out on him, just to give physical proof to the cesspool of negative emotion that had been building up inside of him ever since he got the news. He would deserve it.

But as much as Clive hated himself for all of this, he was also so, so tired.

So he let himself melt into her embrace, let his limply hanging arms reach up and wrap around her slim form. His hands fisted in the back of her shirt, and he buried his face further into her shoulder, letting it take the force of his sobs. Jill took everything he could give her, pulling him fully against her. Her hand stroked wide circles over his back even as her own tears soaked his jacket.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there together on that bridge, crying their eyes out, but eventually, the tears began to slow and his heaving shoulders began to steady. The scent of the wildflowers in her hair started to come through again, and he let it soothe him in his grief. Still, he didn't release her yet, still clung to her and held her against him. She was the only thing holding him together at the moment, and he wasn't ready to go back to being a broken man just yet.

Thankfully, she seemed just as reluctant to let him go, and she held him there, even as her own breathy sobs faded into steady, even breathing. Eventually, she turned her head to pillow her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm sorry about Joshua," she said softly. "It's been so long since I knew him, but he was as good a friend to me as you were back then. I'm going to miss him."

"I miss him too," he whispered. He tucked his chin into the space between her neck and her shoulder, looking past her down the path.

He felt exhausted, but the twisting storm of emotions inside him still refused to settle. He huffed out a bitter, broken laugh. "Do you want to know the worst part of all of this?" he asked her.

Her hand traced a long, slow trail up and down his spine. "What?"

Clive licked his lips. "Some part of me resents Joshua for still being alive," he admitted in a whisper. Her palm paused ever so briefly on its journey back up his back before resuming its motions, letting him speak.

"If Joshua was truly still alive, then we could go back to being a happy family again," he whispered hoarsely. "I would never want him dead, but if Joshua had died that night, then at least I'd be able to mourn him. I could grieve, maybe even move on some day, but I am denied even that bit of peace. Joshua is in limbo, and because of that, so am I. It doesn't matter how many doctors tell me to let him go, it doesn't matter how often they tell me he's not coming back. I'm never going to be able to let Joshua go. Like this, there will always be some part of me that's going to hope that he's going to wake up some day and come back to me, and we'll be together again."

A few more tears leaked from his eyes. "But he won't," he said raggedly, "and some part of me, however small, hates him for it, even though I know it's a cruel and awful thing to feel."

Finally, Jill drew back. He loosened his arms to let her leave him, but she didn't go far, instead leaning back in his embrace to take his face between her hands. He wanted to shy away, his eyes red and face puffy, afraid she'd see the broken thing inside him too clearly if she looked into his eyes, but she didn't allow him to pull back.

"I think it's the most natural feeling in the world," she told him, wiping the tear tracks from his face with her thumbs. Her own voice was rough from the tears, too. "You love your brother ferociously - just as much as he loved you. When you love someone, all of your feelings, both negative and positive, are amplified. When you left Waloed after your injury, you described your joy at having him back in your life, despite the tragedy you had gone through and the depression clouding everything else. In the same way, your grief has been amplified, too. When emotions get that strong, they can get messy and tangled up in each other. Your anger at the situation gets caught up your mourning, and both of those are deepened by your love for him."

"I hate feeling this way," he whispered, even though he knew she was right. Her words were like a balm on his wearied soul.

"I know," she said, cupping his jaw in her palms. "The feeling is complicated, yes, and messy and tangled and it feels reprehensible. It's an uncomfortable emotion, and it's never going to feel right, but that pain and anger is a testament to how much you love your brother, and that's never something to be ashamed of - only to be embraced."

Clive shook his head gently. He understood, but hearing it and accepting it were two different things. "I don't know how," he whispered.

Her thumbs stroked briefly over his cheeks once more before drawing him back into her embrace. "I wish I had an answer for you on how to let it go," Jill murmured close to his ear. "But I don't think there is an easy answer. The important thing is that you try - and until the day you figure out how, I will be at your side to support you."

And with those words, Clive finally allowed himself to melt into her embrace once more, letting her soothing touch and the scent of wildflowers chase away his doubts, if only for a little while.