[ He nods a little, as much as he can manage, at least, sluggish as he is. Because he agrees with that much – he doesn't want someone bound to him if they don't want to be. He's not in the habit of forcing anyone to do anything they find exceptionally unpleasant, himself especially.
But this— this is different. Before, this thing between them was a terrible shock, an earthquake that uprooted his every foundation. Now that it's settled, now that they've leaped through fire together and felt how that bond had helped and hindered—
He doesn't know anymore.
He knows he feels more settled when she's nearby. Calm. Whole. And when they're apart, he feels antsy and heavy and uncomfortable in his own skin. And maybe with time he could learn to cope, but the idea of living with that discomfort is enough to make him cringe even now.
The machine tracking his heart rate picks up a bit with his agitation, quiet and insistent, though he hardly notices. He swallows that bitter taste in his mouth, frowns up at the ceiling. ]
What about you?
[ because his mind may not be made up, but hers very well could be. Emma Cullen is a determined woman. Focused. And there was a high likelihood nothing has swayed her opinion. He had felt uncertainty only moments ago, but not hope. Not happiness. ]
[ "uncertain" is a good word for how emma still feels about it all. she's usually so quick to know exactly what she wants, and she's absolutely one to make up her mind and stick to her guns, but...this is uncharted territory for her. she's never had to deal with emotions that she couldn't just rein right in, control when she needs to, and— move beyond.
it's awful hard to move on from it all with the constant reminders and discomfort, and then— this. this perfect wholeness that wraps itself around her as soon as she's anywhere near faraday.
where before she'd been faced with her own anger and feelings of displacement and betrayal (because faraday is by no means matthew, and that still niggles somewhere in the back of her mind), she's now been confronted with unease and almost fear.
what if they truly aren't compatible? what if their lives and who they are is so wildly different that there's no way to reconcile it between them?
what if the universe made a mistake?
she has no concrete answers, and that scares her. but what she does know is that faraday makes her feel things she didn't even think possible, and what they'd gone through together in rose creek truly is significant to her — something defining and powerful. she knows that all of that is important.
and that makes faraday important.
she presses a hand over the tingling mark on her arm, squeezing just a touch. ]
...I can't say as I'm very fond of that particular idea anymore.
[ so...no? she thinks she really has settled heartily on the side of wanting him to stay.
she just hasn't worked out the logistics or the capacity she wants him there. ]
And maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation now. Not while his mind drifts, hovering just on the edge of sleep. Or maybe it's best, with the drugs and exhaustion making him honest, making him set aside his usual hang-ups and landmines.
Doesn't matter, really, since they are having it now. And he doesn't quite know any better, anyway. Anything to make Emma stay longer, anything to keep feeling these ripples of contentment and completion. ]
Dunno that I can stay in one spot.
[ Which is true enough. Faraday tended to drift. Never stayed anywhere long enough to grow roots – and that's been the truth of his life since he was a young man, fresh out of high school. He'll settle up somewhere, stick around for a few months before a sharp pang of wanderlust hits him – or maybe that's just the fear of getting complacent? Either way, that feeling hits him, and he packs up his sparse belongings, hops onto the next bus out of there. ]
[ one she doesn't have an answer for — not right now. her house isn't anywhere near livable yet, but...what if it's isn't truly salvageable? the damage may be so thorough that she'd have to completely start over, and...she can't afford that.
possibly the worst realization of being faced with the rebuilds is that it's all expensive — and what usable funds she has are fairly limited. ]
...but I may also find myself in need of something new soon enough.
[ it would break her heart to leave behind the house she and matthew built together. the time and energy and love that had gone into making it their home is not so easily disregarded, but she also can't guarantee she'll be able to afford repairing all that bogue and his men did in the process of trying to run them out of town.
a flicker of melancholy grips her, but it's something she refuses to betray on her face, instead continuing to study faraday. ]
I think that all depends on whatever becomes of...this.
[ she gestures between the two of them, then gently settles forward again, carefully rearranging herself to return her arms to his bed. it's comfortable to lean forward like this, and it sets off even more of that sweet, soothing warmth when she's close again.
[ That contentment ripples through him again, and in spite of it all, he settles a little more comfortably, lets out another quiet breath. His fingers twitch toward her of their own accord as she leans against the mattress – not quite touching. She's a bit too far away to make contact without stretching. His head tips back a little, and the words fall from his lips before he can think on them: ]
Feels nice when you're close.
[ Something he would've been too ashamed to voice, were he not doped to the gills, but it seems so easy to express now. It's as much an answer to her unspoken question as it is an admission – he finds himself begrudgingly appreciating the benefits, even if he's still terrified by the weight of it. His eyes slip shut, and he enjoys that warmth as much as he can – a feeling so alien to him until recently. ]
Don't— don't much like when you're gone.
Doesn't feel— [ he struggles for the word for a few seconds and settles on ] —right.
[ the admission out of him is actually fairly startling to emma — even more so because of how much she agrees. nothing feels right when she's far from him, and it's nearly impossible to ignore, on top of that. it's only when she's here with him, within proper reach that she feels any real sort of whole. ]
It surely doesn't.
[ her voice is soft, a little tentative about her honesty, but...she can't really deny it (not without outright lying).
hesitating, she has to steel herself before she reaches out. the fact that he isn't looking at her, that his eyes are closed, makes it a little easier for her to lightly rest her hand on his, and it— makes her stop. it's different from the fleeting contact they'd had in the middle of the fight (which in itself had been intense and with so much pain between them, hadn't fully allowed anything else to seep through). it's a rush of— wholeness and sensation and she feels like she's been wrapped in the softest, warmest blanket imaginable.
her breathing catches, and all she can manage is a soft exhale: ]
[ The touch is like a spark falling on a fuse, something that floods him with contentment near immediately. It washes through him, feels like the scattered pieces of him finally snap together after ages of staring, of not quite fitting snugly. The sensation leaves him boneless, drags a quiet, involuntary noise from the back of his throat – little more than a soft, ]
Nnh.
[ His fingers twitch against the sheets before his hand turns up to hold hers, though his grip isn’t quite as sure or quite as strong. She could easily pull away if she wanted, though he hopes she doesn’t. His mind feels sharper, even as their bond dulls the edges of his discomfort, as his focus hones in on this, on this single point of contact.
God, it’s good. How have they kept themselves from enjoying this all this time? ]
[ all thoughts of pulling away have momentarily left emma's mind. with his hand gently cradling her own, she shifts her grip, laces their fingers together, and, oh, that's even better. the full, intentional contact is so dramatically different from anything she's experienced in her whole life, and it just makes her realize that this?
this is why the concept of soulmates has survived through the ages.
feeling so whole and complete and near perfect is a different kind of newness. it's like everything had fallen away in the world until it's just the two of them.
and strangely, she isn't bothered that it's the two of them. she doesn't feel self-conscious about sharing this intimacy with faraday, of all people (though perhaps that's just buried under these sensations?). ]
This is...
[ actually, she doesn't even have words for this. ]
[ Even if he were in a better state, Faraday doubts he’d be able to express the feeling, either. His vocabulary had always left something to be desired. All he knows for the moment is that this is good. Better than that, actually – near blissful.
Knowing how this feels, he’s not sure if he has strength enough to give it up.
So even if Emma doesn’t complete her thought, Faraday still nods his agreement all the same. Offers a vague sort of, ]
Yeah...
[ Though that leaves them no closer to naming whatever this sensation is.
His fingers twitch against hers – would grow tighter, if he had the energy for it, but this, for now. This is enough. He forces his eyes open, even as that peace tries to draw him back into sleep, and the corner of his mouth twitches up a little. ]
[ in fact, it's good. she feels so intensely relaxed in a way she's never managed in the past, even with matthew — which is indicative of exactly how much faraday affects her.
she brushes her thumb gently across the back of his hand, relishing in the prickles of sensation in her skin, in her mark, and just— in her. it's like a part of her has finally meshed with something she's missed, and that something...seems to be the man laying opposite her in the hospital bed.
through the link, she can feel how sleep pulls at him, how exhausted (but clearly relaxed) his body is. ]
You can go back to sleep, if you need it. I'll stay put.
[ if he wants her to. if he doesn't, she could come back at another time (as much as she doesn't want to break this connection). ]
[ His expression tightens for a second as she speaks – for a second, he worries she means to leave, at least until she offers to stay beside him. He lets out a breath after that, gives the barest of nods. ]
Please.
[ Little more than a whisper, but with an earnestness he’s rarely (if ever) used before today. Another barely-there squeeze of his hand against hers, as that sense of comfort drifts over him, warm and thick like blankets on a winter evening.
Exhaustion isn’t new – not since he’s been lying in this bed, hooked up to all manner of machines. Now, at least, he has that sense of ease, of serenity to smooth away the grating edge of it, to soften the pain that slips past the effects of the painkillers. Sleep quietly claims him again, and he relaxes, body turning toward her ever so slightly as he drifts off. ]
[ emma promised she'd stay, and she does. she even drifts off herself, if only for a short nap, because she honestly hasn't felt so relaxed and at-ease since the whole trouble with bogue started. he quiets her nerves and uncertainties with the warmth of his presence in their link , just like the contact does, and that's meaningful enough to let her rest.
(because she certainly needs it.)
unfortunately, it's only a couple hours later before a nurse is coming to check in, to let her know that the window for visitors is nearly closed. emma's about to protest, but then she quickly realizes that, in the eyes of the hospital, it isn't her place to stay. she isn't faraday's wife, isn't family at all, so she inevitably has to step out.
...as much as she doesn't want to.
reluctantly (oh-so reluctantly), she gets to her feet, tentatively prying her fingers away from faraday. she doesn't want to disturb him, what with how badly he needs the rest, but she does pause for a moment.
with his eyes still closed, she's bold enough to lean over—
—and press the softest of kisses to his forehead. ]
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no subject
But this— this is different. Before, this thing between them was a terrible shock, an earthquake that uprooted his every foundation. Now that it's settled, now that they've leaped through fire together and felt how that bond had helped and hindered—
He doesn't know anymore.
He knows he feels more settled when she's nearby. Calm. Whole. And when they're apart, he feels antsy and heavy and uncomfortable in his own skin. And maybe with time he could learn to cope, but the idea of living with that discomfort is enough to make him cringe even now.
The machine tracking his heart rate picks up a bit with his agitation, quiet and insistent, though he hardly notices. He swallows that bitter taste in his mouth, frowns up at the ceiling. ]
What about you?
[ because his mind may not be made up, but hers very well could be. Emma Cullen is a determined woman. Focused. And there was a high likelihood nothing has swayed her opinion. He had felt uncertainty only moments ago, but not hope. Not happiness. ]
You want me gone?
no subject
it's awful hard to move on from it all with the constant reminders and discomfort, and then— this. this perfect wholeness that wraps itself around her as soon as she's anywhere near faraday.
where before she'd been faced with her own anger and feelings of displacement and betrayal (because faraday is by no means matthew, and that still niggles somewhere in the back of her mind), she's now been confronted with unease and almost fear.
what if they truly aren't compatible? what if their lives and who they are is so wildly different that there's no way to reconcile it between them?
what if the universe made a mistake?
she has no concrete answers, and that scares her. but what she does know is that faraday makes her feel things she didn't even think possible, and what they'd gone through together in rose creek truly is significant to her — something defining and powerful. she knows that all of that is important.
and that makes faraday important.
she presses a hand over the tingling mark on her arm, squeezing just a touch. ]
...I can't say as I'm very fond of that particular idea anymore.
[ so...no? she thinks she really has settled heartily on the side of wanting him to stay.
she just hasn't worked out the logistics or the capacity she wants him there. ]
no subject
And maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation now. Not while his mind drifts, hovering just on the edge of sleep. Or maybe it's best, with the drugs and exhaustion making him honest, making him set aside his usual hang-ups and landmines.
Doesn't matter, really, since they are having it now. And he doesn't quite know any better, anyway. Anything to make Emma stay longer, anything to keep feeling these ripples of contentment and completion. ]
Dunno that I can stay in one spot.
[ Which is true enough. Faraday tended to drift. Never stayed anywhere long enough to grow roots – and that's been the truth of his life since he was a young man, fresh out of high school. He'll settle up somewhere, stick around for a few months before a sharp pang of wanderlust hits him – or maybe that's just the fear of getting complacent? Either way, that feeling hits him, and he packs up his sparse belongings, hops onto the next bus out of there. ]
Where's that leave us?
no subject
[ one she doesn't have an answer for — not right now. her house isn't anywhere near livable yet, but...what if it's isn't truly salvageable? the damage may be so thorough that she'd have to completely start over, and...she can't afford that.
possibly the worst realization of being faced with the rebuilds is that it's all expensive — and what usable funds she has are fairly limited. ]
...but I may also find myself in need of something new soon enough.
[ it would break her heart to leave behind the house she and matthew built together. the time and energy and love that had gone into making it their home is not so easily disregarded, but she also can't guarantee she'll be able to afford repairing all that bogue and his men did in the process of trying to run them out of town.
a flicker of melancholy grips her, but it's something she refuses to betray on her face, instead continuing to study faraday. ]
I think that all depends on whatever becomes of...this.
[ she gestures between the two of them, then gently settles forward again, carefully rearranging herself to return her arms to his bed. it's comfortable to lean forward like this, and it sets off even more of that sweet, soothing warmth when she's close again.
lord, but it just feels nice to be near him. ]
no subject
Feels nice when you're close.
[ Something he would've been too ashamed to voice, were he not doped to the gills, but it seems so easy to express now. It's as much an answer to her unspoken question as it is an admission – he finds himself begrudgingly appreciating the benefits, even if he's still terrified by the weight of it. His eyes slip shut, and he enjoys that warmth as much as he can – a feeling so alien to him until recently. ]
Don't— don't much like when you're gone.
Doesn't feel— [ he struggles for the word for a few seconds and settles on ] —right.
no subject
It surely doesn't.
[ her voice is soft, a little tentative about her honesty, but...she can't really deny it (not without outright lying).
hesitating, she has to steel herself before she reaches out. the fact that he isn't looking at her, that his eyes are closed, makes it a little easier for her to lightly rest her hand on his, and it— makes her stop. it's different from the fleeting contact they'd had in the middle of the fight (which in itself had been intense and with so much pain between them, hadn't fully allowed anything else to seep through). it's a rush of— wholeness and sensation and she feels like she's been wrapped in the softest, warmest blanket imaginable.
her breathing catches, and all she can manage is a soft exhale: ]
Oh.
no subject
Nnh.
[ His fingers twitch against the sheets before his hand turns up to hold hers, though his grip isn’t quite as sure or quite as strong. She could easily pull away if she wanted, though he hopes she doesn’t. His mind feels sharper, even as their bond dulls the edges of his discomfort, as his focus hones in on this, on this single point of contact.
God, it’s good. How have they kept themselves from enjoying this all this time? ]
no subject
this is why the concept of soulmates has survived through the ages.
feeling so whole and complete and near perfect is a different kind of newness. it's like everything had fallen away in the world until it's just the two of them.
and strangely, she isn't bothered that it's the two of them. she doesn't feel self-conscious about sharing this intimacy with faraday, of all people (though perhaps that's just buried under these sensations?). ]
This is...
[ actually, she doesn't even have words for this. ]
no subject
Knowing how this feels, he’s not sure if he has strength enough to give it up.
So even if Emma doesn’t complete her thought, Faraday still nods his agreement all the same. Offers a vague sort of, ]
Yeah...
[ Though that leaves them no closer to naming whatever this sensation is.
His fingers twitch against hers – would grow tighter, if he had the energy for it, but this, for now. This is enough. He forces his eyes open, even as that peace tries to draw him back into sleep, and the corner of his mouth twitches up a little. ]
Guess this ain’t so bad, after all.
no subject
[ in fact, it's good. she feels so intensely relaxed in a way she's never managed in the past, even with matthew — which is indicative of exactly how much faraday affects her.
she brushes her thumb gently across the back of his hand, relishing in the prickles of sensation in her skin, in her mark, and just— in her. it's like a part of her has finally meshed with something she's missed, and that something...seems to be the man laying opposite her in the hospital bed.
through the link, she can feel how sleep pulls at him, how exhausted (but clearly relaxed) his body is. ]
You can go back to sleep, if you need it. I'll stay put.
[ if he wants her to. if he doesn't, she could come back at another time (as much as she doesn't want to break this connection). ]
no subject
Please.
[ Little more than a whisper, but with an earnestness he’s rarely (if ever) used before today. Another barely-there squeeze of his hand against hers, as that sense of comfort drifts over him, warm and thick like blankets on a winter evening.
Exhaustion isn’t new – not since he’s been lying in this bed, hooked up to all manner of machines. Now, at least, he has that sense of ease, of serenity to smooth away the grating edge of it, to soften the pain that slips past the effects of the painkillers. Sleep quietly claims him again, and he relaxes, body turning toward her ever so slightly as he drifts off. ]
no subject
(because she certainly needs it.)
unfortunately, it's only a couple hours later before a nurse is coming to check in, to let her know that the window for visitors is nearly closed. emma's about to protest, but then she quickly realizes that, in the eyes of the hospital, it isn't her place to stay. she isn't faraday's wife, isn't family at all, so she inevitably has to step out.
...as much as she doesn't want to.
reluctantly (oh-so reluctantly), she gets to her feet, tentatively prying her fingers away from faraday. she doesn't want to disturb him, what with how badly he needs the rest, but she does pause for a moment.
with his eyes still closed, she's bold enough to lean over—
—and press the softest of kisses to his forehead. ]