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Priming is becoming harder. Not that Jill would ever show it; despite the curse that creeps over her skin and the ache in her bones and the blood coughed up with increasing frequency, she stands tall beside Clive, now the known Cid the Outlaw, as they liberate what bearers they can throughout Valisthea. It’s not the physical burden that truly takes a toll though. It’s the reminder of every person hurt because of her, every life lost under Shiva’s frigid gaze.
Sometimes she wonders if that’s really why she’s doing this, as a sort of penance. Saving bearers even if they hate her for it, because at least they’re alive. And not—and not dea—
Hands trembling as she tugs free her glove, she looks for any sign of the curse’s encroachment, anything that might hinder her from priming. She can’t tarry—they’ve not stopped for long, just to refill their waterskins and give Torgal a chance to drink before they continue on to the hideaway. A quick glance shows her hands are clear, but as she pulls up her sleeve to inspect her arm she hears,
“Jill? Are you over here?”
Clive turns the bend around the rocky outcropping by the river looking for her, and Jill hastily turns away as she pulls her sleeve back down, praying Clive didn’t see anything.
“Yes, I’m here,” she calls back, fixing her glove in place again. There, nothing amiss—
“Jill, you’re hurt!” Clive says with alarm, and Jill freezes where she’s kneeling by the water. How could he have seen?
Gravel crunches beneath Clive’s boots as he approaches. Jill doesn’t move, nor does she flinch when Clive’s gloved hand brushes her hair away from her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Clive asks, exasperation mostly masked by worry.
Jill finally turns her head, spotting the splotch of red over her left shoulder, the stain slowly spreading across the fine fabric of her shirt. Now that her attention has been brought to the wound, she can feel the stinging pulse of it.
“I hadn’t noticed,” she replies honestly, reaching back to gently feel the injury. Even when only semi-priming she doesn’t always realize when she’s been hurt, the adrenaline of the fight and Shiva’s frozen exterior keeping her sense of pain deadened.
She pokes again and Clive sighs, reaching out to gently guide her hand away.
“Let me take care of this,” he says, and he sounds so earnest she actually hesitates rather than giving an instant ‘no.’
“You don’t have to,” she says instead.
Clive kneels down beside her on the rocky shoreline, still holding her hand, and looks her in the eye as he says,
“Please. I want to help.”
Jill’s cheeks are warm as she looks away and nods. Whatever hold Shiva had over her in the fight earlier, it is well and truly gone now. There isn’t a speck of cold anywhere in her.
“All right,” she whispers, drawing her hand back.
It takes some awkward maneuvering to free her arm without fully undressing, but Clive doesn’t rush her as she tugs her vest strap off her shoulder and unlaces her shirt just enough to slip her arm out of the sleeve. The air is cool against her bare skin, the throb of her aching shoulder hot in counterpoint.
Jill turns her back to him and sits still as Clive begins to wipe away the blood, unmoving even when the damp cloth brushes over her injury. Clive’s movements are slow and gentle, cleaning the blood from her skin so he can take a closer look at the wound.
“It doesn’t look too deep,” he says after a few moments, surprisingly close to her ear. Jill shivers and clenches both hands in her lap. “I’ll patch it up and Tarja can take care of the rest.”
Jill nods, then there’s silence save for the quiet rushing of the river and the rustling of Clive hunting for a clean bandage. When he finds one he gets to work wrapping up her shoulder, and Jill bites her tongue to stop the noise of pain she almost makes when he puts pressure on the wound. Neither of them speaks, but Jill is quickly distracted by the appearance of Torgal, who is clearly tired of waiting for the two of them.
Torgal sits before her and Jill gladly reaches out to take Torgal’s snout in both hands, rubbing his fur and making Clive ‘tsk’ softly as the movement interrupts his bandaging. Jill grins at Torgal, scratching him behind the ears, and she can almost imagine Torgal smirking back at her.
Clive doesn’t complain any more than that, and it only takes another minute before he’s satisfied with his work and sits back. Jill immediately rolls her shoulder, making sure she can still move properly should they run into trouble on their journey home.
As if sensing her willingness to get into more fights, Clive says, “You should rest when we get back.”
Jill sighs, dropping her arm back to her side. “I’m fine, Clive. An injury this small won’t hinder me.”
“I’m not worried about your injury.” Jill stays silent, long enough for Clive to eventually add, “Well, no, I am. But I’m more worried about you. I feel like this has been a lot for you.”
“I’m fine,” Jill repeats, still staring ahead.
She can hear Clive moving to stand, but rather than help her up, he kneels down in front of her this time, Torgal lazily moving out of the way to let him claim the space. Clive takes both of Jill’s hands in his, holding her gently.
“I do not say this to lessen the value of what you have done,” Clive says, soft and serious, “but you’ve been carrying quite a burden these past few years. I do not wish you to take on more than you can handle.”
It feels as if she’s been slapped. Pulling her hands free, Jill reins in her emotions tight before she speaks.
“I assure you, I am wholly capable of handling myself,” she says, voice clipped.
Despite her hurt, it’s Clive who looks like a kicked puppy.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Jill. You are one of the very few things that has kept me going all this time. To lose you again would be…unthinkable.”
Jill studies Clive’s face, looking for any sign he’s trying to placate her, but she finds nothing but honest devotion. An uncomfortable lump settles in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Clive being alone again, a feeling that quickly morphs into anger—not at Clive, but at the circumstances that separated them in the first place and the suffering they both endured as a result.
This time Jill is the one to reach for Clive, grasping his hands in her own.
“You will not lose me,” she says firmly, her resolve strengthening the words. “It won’t be like before. We’re stronger now. Both of us.”
The initial surprise is clear on Clive’s face, but then he smiles and grasps Jill’s hands back.
“I’ve never doubted you, Jill. Your support means everything to me, truly. I just…” He drops his gaze to their clasped hands, contemplative in a moment of silence. “I worry I am forcing you to carry me, rather than support me.”
Jill shakes her head without hesitation and says, “We’re doing this together. I the sword and you the shield. We will save Storm and Ash and everyone within from the Blight and from those who wish to do harm to this world.”
She can feel Shiva hum inside her, a drumbeat of the Eikon’s magic against her ribcage threatening to burst forth. To seek justice and freedom. Reminding her that this power is not a curse but a boon, one she can use for good.
Yet there is ice filling her heart and frost sticking to her bones, and that too is Shiva calling into the night, howling for vengeance like a winter storm. It does not slow her down but keeps her going as powerfully as any inner fire.
Clive too seems bolstered by her words, and tightening his grip on Jill’s hands he pulls her to her feet, careful of her injured shoulder. She takes a moment to put her clothing back to rights, wincing slightly at the pain. Perhaps Clive isn’t entirely wrong; a day or two of rest might be of benefit.
As if to finally get them moving again, Torgal nudges her in the back of the knees with his head, and Jill laughs, reaching down to pet him as he comes up beside her. When she looks back up, Clive is staring at her.
“What?” she asks, amused.
“I…” Clive trails off, still staring. Then he shakes his head and looks away. “It’s nothing.”
Jill steps around to try and meet his gaze again. “You can tell me.”
Clive’s cheeks have gone a little pink, but he gamely answers, “It’s just good to see you laugh.”
This spurs another laugh out of her, expression fond as she looks back at Clive. “Come on, I think Torgal is telling us to get a move on.”
Torgal barks and bounds back toward the path they’d been traversing before they stopped, and Clive and Jill give each other a look.
“We can’t argue with Torgal, now can we?” Clive says.
“No we cannot,” Jill replies, and the two of them set off together across the rocky riverbank, back to the place they both call home. A home, Jill thinks, because that is where Clive is. With all the strife in the world, all the pain and uncertainty, one thing has always held steadfastly true.
Clive is her home.