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He shakes his head a little. "He's either back home where his magic is steadily killing him...or he's not. There's little I can do now." Unless...unless whatever magic he'd been working on alongside Chris had worked. What if it had sent him through the gate properly? What if it had sent him to Nate and Nick like he'd been hoping? His own hair wouldn't serve Caleb, Chris wasn't inherently magical, but if he'd just gotten to the others...it's foolish, but he chooses to believe it.

"But that's not...I'm not just me. I'm..." He sighs and shakes his head again and moves to sit up and roll off Hawke. "Are you alright? You must have swam hard. Your lungs make it?"

"My lungs are fine, stop trying to redirect," he tugs at Chris, trying to coax him back down by taking hold of his sleeve. He'll not force him, that feels wrong and especially cruel right now but, pathetically, he just wants that weight of Chris on him or against him, the solid assurance that he's not lost. "You're always yourself. That's what I like best and fell in love with, you're always you."

He's not making sense really, but the words feel right on his tongue even if they scratch coming out. He shouldn't have cried, shouldn't have yelled when he'd reached for Chris there in the water. All it did was exacerbate his still healing throat and gut. It's not much, the feeling nearly gone just for time, but he hadn't bothered to heal it in the moment - or hadn't the expertise for it - and once he'd returned to conscious thought it wasn't a priority. The still-open wounds, yes, but a rough throat and sore midriff muscles? They would heal on their own, eventually.

He leans up again, rolling so his forehead is against Chris' arm when he doesn't choose to simply pull the cleric back down atop him. It's not ideal, but it's contact and that's what he wants if nothing else. Just contact. Just the kind hand of someone who hasn't hurt him. It's unfair to ask, especially with Chris dealing with Just One More Thing regarding Caleb and his departure. One more support of Chris' foundation cruelly kicked away.

"I'm glad-" he starts but his voice breaks and he coughs and shakes his head, forehead rubbing against Chris' arm. "I'm glad we're still here. Selfish as that is. I-I don't want to lose you."

He pants a little, the effort of so much emotion driving him to speak making the soreness more acute, but he ignores it. He doesnt want nor have time for it so it may well not be there. "Please, just. Just lay with me awhile, if you can. I want to help but I need it too and simply being near you right now is more than enough, if you don't want to talk."

They can just be miserable together.

Chris looks over his shoulder at his mage when he catches his sleeve, but he doesn’t turn toward him until Hawke’s struggling voice becomes apparent. He knew that sound. That ache.

He hates that he has to return the favor from over a month ago, but he places a hand over Wolfe’s throat and just within the divot of his rib cage. The healing comes with its customary chill and the feeling less of putting something back than taking something away, but it saps the damage and strain from Wolfe’s body.

There was nothing to be done for the scars on his arms, but so be it. He shifts then and lays out on his side to pull his boyfriend in closer to his chest, tone softening a bit. “I can lay with you…but I’d like to know what happened. As detailed or not as is your want, but I want to know…so I can help tend to it or carry it as you need.”

Cool magic runs through him, humming softly and easing the ache. He swallows without difficulty and there's a moment of relief there as he swallows again to make sure. His breathing evens too, his diaphragm finally understanding that he's not moments from shock or suffocation.

"Thank you," he bids to Chris, no longer at all croaking, but he does still bury his face against his love's chest. He shouldn't. He should be the one wrapped around Chris, and it makes him raise his head again after that momentary indulgence, shifting so they're eye to eye instead of his body tucked into the hollow of Chris' chest; no matter how comforting that is, he's not just going to take.

"I will, but only if you agree to the same, for the same reason. We are neither of us delicate, even if we feel fragile at times" He won't let Chris focus on him entirely just because he'd cried too. Chris doesn't get to shy away anymore from the hard talks.

But neither does Hawke.

"They had Grayson take my throat. And Amelia cut on me. Extensively, but not at the same time. They both did the best they could, I don't blame either of them. I'm not angry at them, but I am angry at any of it happening. At the Creator for making it happen. On a whim.

He feels that prickling of his eyes again but fights it back this time.

He looks away at the stipulation but nods. He gets where Hawke is coming from, any other time, he’d agree. Holding each other up is the wiser thing to do, it’s just hard to do when faced with the hurt on his loved ones. He’s only just starting to get there with Jon, it’s…a process.

But he only nods and Hawke has fire in him when the clinical is past. The part with Grayson is uncomfortable and unfortunate, but better to know it was someone who likely did do his best to get through something unpleasant for both. The Amelia part…he wishes he was surprised. They’d clearly made certain arrangements intending to hurt.

He sighs and reaches up to brush back some of Wolfe’s hair. “The horrors of tyranny. We weather their familiar return just as it seems he’s lost interest in us. You know what to do with that anger, my love…but your allowed to let yourself be tired and take a breath afore you do.”

"I know. I spent all yesterday with Amelia. I thought after that we'd be..." He trails off, uncommon for him when he's usually so sure of what he's saying. He holds just that much tighter to Chris for trying to find words. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, as if sharing some shameful secret. "She didn't want to do it, I know that. We both know that. But I can't help seeing it behind my eyelids. She was just... Blank. Focused. That look on her face was the same one she gets when hunting a mark. I couldn't even- They'd taken my magic again, too, so I was helpless, and it made it so much worse. I trust her, this isn't anything she'd wanted to do, but now I... I flinch. If she's anywhere near a knife, I flinch."

He sighs raggedly, like some of the weight has shifted and it's not a comfort, just a source of shame to have what's underneath be revealed. "I don't want to be afraid of someone I love. It's not her fault, and I don't know how to fix this."

Chris' brows crease and he shifts to be able to bring both hands up to cup Hawke's face. "Darling, it'll take more'n one peaceful afternoon in the sun to things right. You've been hurt, she's been hurt, you can't make that right with one action or one conversation. I know you know it."

He looks away a moment, thoughts turning and that practical tactician's mask slipping into place. "Do you feel that stir of discomfort around her without the knife? When she comes up behind you or turns too quickly? And when you talked over what happened, was she open with her part or did she seem to close off and focus on you?" Break it down into manageable pieces, easier for him to move about and easier for Hawke to follow Chris' logic as he goes.

Watching Chris' mask slip on has Hawke feeling guilty for it. He should be the one trying to help, to support Chris through losing so many of his loved ones in so short a time. But he's still frustratingly right and if Hawke tried to bring the subject back around now, he'd only hit a wall. He sighs, letting his head loll to the side a bit in the sand.

"A little at first but it's faded. It's just around the blades. It reminds me of the bonfire, how the ocean spray hit me in just the right way and then my mind put me back in the Pit for a moment. I see the flash of steel and suddenly I'm in Realignment. That's not even the worst part, though."

Turning his head again, Hawke does his best to look at Chris, craning a bit for the angle. "She feels so guilty it's like she's a different person. Small and not standing up for herself or her wants at all. I don't like being treated as if she thinks I'm better than her but I don't know how to address it, but it's making me feel guilty for what happened too even though I know we were both victims."

Chris shifts and sits up a bit but only to take more of his weight onto his knees and run a hand soothingly over Hawke's chest.

"As with the sea spray, the blades will likely fade with time and patience from you both...and if it doesn't, you can decide what to do then. For the rest...I think she needs to know that. She needs to know you're creating an echo chamber of guilt and sorrow that's eating up the happiness you ought to have with each other. Neither of you'll heal that way."

He sighs and his thoughts shift to he and Jon, stood naked and clutching to each other as they let their grief run through them.

"Jon and I've fallen into a similar issue before. We did for this too, what happened in Realignment. We each blamed ourselves for the pain we caused the other...up until we could name that we were going in circles with it. Only then were we able to talk properly."

"You have talked though, yes?" Hawke's concern shifts focus readily, reaching to catch Chris' fingers in his as a reassurance for them both. He looks at Chris with patient openness, setting his worries over Amelia aside to simmer in this new advice. They'll talk, when he's ready they'll talk, but he's for Chris right now. He's not about to go running off and leave his boyfriend - his best friend - to suffer alone.

"I'm glad to hear it." He wants to reach up, brush the hair from Chris' face, but he stops himself, not entirely certain why. It just seems like he shouldn't. He feels small too, in a way. Helpless in the face of such insurmountable sorrow. "You need each other. You're... Better, with each other, in a myriad of ways, even when it seems the opposite. You're more open and he's far happier in general."

Hawke smiles and it's only slightly forced. Real enough in intention, just pushed through a layer of weariness. "You can tell by his grousing, but he takes better care of himself too. He wouldn't just for himself."

Jon loves Chris more than himself, but Hawke's certain that's no revelation. What or whosoever Jon loves is always going to be more than himself. It's himself he loathes.

As soon as Hawke asks, he realizes his mistake. The shift in focus wasn’t what he was after, but it’s here now and fondness wraps with annoyance in him for their usual dance.

The words themselves pull a small smile to his lips and he brings Hawke’s hand up to kiss his palm. “He does…and he minds my more…destructive tendencies with compromise that betters us both. We can be terrible together, we’re not great people inherent and I know we both see better looking at each other than in the mirror, but we manage.”

Chris leans down, his arm bracing on one side of Wolfe’s head while his other hand sweeps through wet and sandy hair to dry it as he goes. “I think you’re one of maybe two people who feel that way about us, though…and I appreciate it. Neither of us’d be anywhere so good without you, in our different ways.”

Edited 2023-05-10 16:51 (UTC)

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