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[rosarianoath]

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[rosarianoath]

"Any boy raised in our circumstances would feel the call of duty," he replies. No comment on the other part.

[noburden]

"Of course," she says quietly. She's been witness to it. "I do worry about him. Sons want to please their fathers regardless of circumstances, don't they?"

[rosarianoath]

Clive nods, picking his way across the yard.

"It is a pity that the father he had to please was a terrible man."

[noburden]

Jill follows. Her eyes rest on Clive's back.

"Yes. And Dion refuses to see it. Or... perhaps he does, and doesn't wish to admit it to himself. We talk about many things, but his father is a topic that quickly leads to upset."

Go figure, a son riddled with guilt doesn't like hearing his father was no saint.

[rosarianoath]

"It's only been six months," he replies. "Maybe in time he'll feel differently, but for now, if he feels responsible, then he should be permitted to."

[noburden]

Only six months. Only six months since they all lost everything.

Jill falls silent for a few heartbeats.

"I suppose I've lost track of time."

[rosarianoath]

Clive hasn't. He stops to kick a mostly-gnawed bone towards the muddy garden beds, where the remaining flesh can rot and feed the soil. He lets the silence hang however long she wants, and then he says:

"What he did is going to take a lot longer than that to learn to live with."

[noburden]

She spends so much time purposely not thinking of her own sins that she forgets, in a sense, the battle to come to terms with them.

"I still hope the two of you will become friends," Jill says softly. "I think it would be good for you both."

[rosarianoath]

“I would like that,” he says, if only to assure her he agrees. It just doesn’t seem likely to him, which feels sore if he lingers on the thought too long. “I’m sure I’ve tarnished any favourable impression he might have ever held towards me, though.”

[noburden]

"He knows you're a good man. He asks me how you're doing," she tells him. Dion might think he's a fool, and maybe Jill agrees, but she's not here to start an argument.

[rosarianoath]

“That’s kind of him,” Clive says. He’s not sure what else to say. He just settles on: “And kind of you to keep him abreast of how I’m doing.”

[noburden]

"I don't know if any of my answers have been accurate," Jill says. "I don't ask you as much as I should."

But it's another thing she's unsure about.

[rosarianoath]

A fair point, and something else to ponder. Does she feel guilty about that? He cannot even guess.

“I thought you didn’t want to know.”

[noburden]

She doesn't.

But she does.

"It's more complicated than it should be, isn't it?" She asks sadly. "And I know much of that is my fault."

[rosarianoath]

Clive looks at her. He can’t help it; the sadness in her voice is like a choke chain on his neck. His brows furrow, concerned, and he rests the tip of the shovel against the ground.

“It’s confusing, Jill.”

[noburden]

"It is."

She lets the hefty bag of wolf crap rest on the ground as she looks at Clive. She wants to ask him how they make it less confusing, but it's obvious by now neither of them know what they're doing.

She gives him a helpless smile before deciding that they have to try.

"How were you doing today? Before we came out to shovel Torgal's shit, that is. I can make a good guess of how you're doing right now."

It is what it is.

[rosarianoath]

The way his heart twists is swiftly buried by an avalanche of discomfort.

“I’m fine,” he says. A proper courtly deferral — you’re never supposed to answer that one honestly. “I worked late, I slept late, and now I’m trying to get this done.”

[noburden]

The ease of their old conversations feels lost forever. Jill doesn't want to believe there's no going back, but even this feels so forced.

"Sorry. Let's keep working," she says with a smile and a nod. The sooner it's done, the sooner she can dunk herself into a bath. And he can escape awkward small talk.

[rosarianoath]

The way she surges forward and then shrinks back just ramps up that discomfort. He turns to her fully.

“Jill,” he says. “Have I upset you?”

[noburden]

She's been upset ever since December. In this moment? No, and she shakes her head.

"No, Clive. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She gives him another helpless smile.

"It feels like I've lost the ability to read you."

Maybe that happened back in December, too.

[rosarianoath]

“It’s not your fault. I’ve changed,” he says. It feels like an admission of guilt as much as anything else. “I’m not the man I was six months ago, and I don’t know him any better than you do.”

[noburden]

The look she gives him is sympathetic.

"Then perhaps you and I can both get to know him. I know I'd like to," she offers gently, but she doesn't want it to be mere talk.

"If it's any consolation, I've seen you change more times than you've realized. Some things about a person never go anywhere."

[rosarianoath]

Clive looks at her, quiet for a moment. She wasn’t, he wants to argue, with him in those early years after Phoenix Gate. Then again, he wasn’t with her either. He swallows his breath.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he says. “But if you’d like to… I would too.”

[noburden]

She promised to be there, whatever he must become. She thinks she will always love him whether he knows himself or not. It's in the marrow of her bones.

Neither of them know where to begin, but maybe she can throw ideas and see what sticks.

"We're in the middle of a poor example, but do you enjoy working out here in the yard, Clive? Or do you think you might?"

[rosarianoath]

There’s a flicker of humour in his eyes, even if his mouth stays firm.

“If I had realized this was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have bought a house with quite so much yard,” he admits. “I’m not very useful for these things, but they’re tolerable.”