i was practically asleep writing this but so are they

[nepheliad.livejournal.com]

Cancer.

Cancer, and he hadn't noticed it. Hadn't been aware of that change in her. Not only had he not been aware but then all hell had broken loose around him and he had left her.

Robert had never truly loathed himself more than in that moment. Never. Not when he'd fought with little Valerie and made her hurt so. Not when Eliza had died and when he and Philip had had to tell Anraí about it. Not after Yulianna Cyrus. Not after every patient he lost, not after every war, not after any personal or public tragedy. Nothing could compare to this. All the guilt for leaving came back tenfold, and then some.

It was early in the morning.

Robert shifted slightly in bed, curled back up around his sleeping wife. He leaned close and took an inward breath, burying his face in her curls, trying not to mess her hair with his tears. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered, "I will never be away from you again." A hesitation, and, just to remind her, in case maybe it slipped her mind, because it was always nice to say, "I love you."

Alice, asleep, didn't hear him. But she knew he was there. Her fingertips found his own and their hands intertwined and Robert slept, too.