Morrigan lay in bed, pressed up against Reid’s body, watching him sleep. When he slept, he didn’t pull away from her. When he truly slept, sometimes helped along by a nudge from their doctor, his body relaxed, and she could see how young he was.
She was going to keep him. She’d already known that when she hauled him into her van. She was going to keep him, because he was so strong, so brilliant, and so utterly vulnerable.
He made her want to take responsibility. He made her want to be a grown-up.
Shira watched them together, pouring over the new student lists. She wondered if Luke knew how his wings curled protectively over Regine. She wondered if Regine knew how she looked up to the older Ellehemaei, even when his opinion hurt, even when she stubbornly ignored everything he said.
Shira could see the echos of them, a hundred years past, a hundred years hence. She could see the moment Luke bent to comfort Regine, and the moment Regine learned how to be human for long enough to comfort Luke.
She wished her students, the ones who didn’t always understand friendship, could see this.
Summer. Finally. Mike saw the last of his Students off on vacation, spent one last evening with his favorite non-Mentored student, and braced herself to visit Luke.
He would glower, of course, and grumble. He’d invite her into his home because they were crew, and friends. He’d pour her a drink and have none himself, like he didn’t trust her. He’d refuse to touch her.
But in the end, he would hold out an arm, and hug her, and yell at her for an hour about being a better person. And when he was done, when she’d cried in apology and grumbled and yelled back at him, Mike always felt like she could be better, could be a nicer, more responsible person. Like he made her better.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/315437.html. You can comment here or there.