Adam closed the door with a sigh, sat down on the sofa, and closed his eyes.
“How was it?” Hannah asked, slightly tense.
“You know. The usual. Far too many people dead, got some lizards, hardly made a dent in their population.” He opened his eyes and held out his arms to her. She sat, made awkward by the weight of her stomach, and placed her head on his chest. He closed his eyes again, suddenly more at ease, and stroked her face. She didn't mention the civilian casualties this time - they'd had the conversation too many times already and they were both tired.
“How is he?” asked Adam, looking at her tenderly.
“Fine. As am I, thanks for asking,” she said, sitting up again.
She hesitated. “I'm sorry. I'm snappy recently. You're out every day like that, doing stupid, dangerous things… You don't need a whining pregnant woman to come home to.”
“No, but I do need someone to tell me it's all worth it, and I'm doing the right thing?”
“Well, I'm not sure about that. Some of your ideas are worse than Loki's.”
“But they do usually work,” he said, and she nodded grudgingly. He bent and kissed her. “You make it worth it.”
She smiled at him fondly.
“Love you.”

After, when he was dead, she went through his things. Yet another organisational task fallen to her, because it was what she was good at. Everything was a mess, of course - dirty clothes, pizza boxes, books, envelopes with scribbled song ideas and idly sketched runes, later replaced with notes like 'remember to talk to the Hound. Ask Loki about possible distractions?' and addresses with weak points marked in red.

And tucked neatly down by his sofa, a half-full crate of their favourite whisky and a CD, a lovesong recorded for her back before Nibiru came, his voice accompanied simply and speaking of lost innocence. She let herself cry, then. For the length of the CD played twice. And then picked herself back up and went back to work.

fic/epithet.txt · Last modified: 2010/03/09 17:49 by gareth
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