Khari set her chin atop the stack of books she carried, shuffling up the stairs onto the battlements in a way that was admittedly less-than-graceful. It wasn't so much that the tomes were too heavy—she'd been consistent and ambitious enough in her exercise and training that she didn't often run into that issue anymore. Rather, they were just awkward to carry, piled on top of one another and also taking some pretty steep stone stairs.
But she could handle it, brushing off the offer from assistance one of the guards on the wall started before he could properly finish it, hitting the last stair with a sigh of relief and striking off towards Leon's office. It was actually kind of hot today, which happened even in Skyhold, at least smack in the middle of summer like this. She didn't envy the patrolmen their heavy armor in the heat, and had kept her own attire to a sleeveless tunic and the loosest pair of trousers she had. Hell, even her shoes were the kind that left her heels and toes uncovered. Kind of elfy, for her, but practicality won out on a day like today every time.
She didn't bother to knock when she got to the office, in part because that would have probably involved dropping all the books. The door was cracked, probably a concession to the temperature, and she shouldered it open. “Sorry I'm late, Leon." she said, moving immediately to the table where he usually had her do strategy exercises and dropping the books with a heavy thud. “Chess match with Cy ran late. He's getting a lot better. Almost had me this time." Khari could never quite get over the little bit of glee she felt at being able to regularly hand an actual genius his ass at a game for smart people.
She exhaled at being relieved of her burden, rolling her shoulders and shaking her arms out. After a bit of contemplation, she took hold of her long, haphazard ponytail and curled it around itself several times until all of it was off her neck, shifting a couple pins around on her head to make it stay there. Even the office was hot, but at least this way the sweat beading on the back of her neck might actually help cool her down instead of making her feel like she was slowly melting.
Leon didn't seem to be handling the heat any better than she was; probably in part because he was still wearing full sleeves for some reason. He never seemed to want to expose much of his skin, even when it would make sense to do it, and today wasn't an exception, clearly. He glanced up from his work when she entered, smiling with what seemed to be a slight edge of strain, but he refrained from speaking until she'd settled a bit.
"It's not a problem," he said mildly. "I was trying to catch up on some of the things I fell behind on while we were at Kasos anyway." And the week he'd spent in the infirmary after, no doubt. "Are you done reading those already? You really can't do anything halfway, can you?" He sounded vaguely impressed, or maybe just bewildered.
The latter was a reaction she was pretty used to. Khari grinned at him, then nodded once. “You bet. I read the history of the first Blight one twice, too." She was pretty proud of herself, actually, though it wasn't like it had been hard. The account had been gripping, narrated firsthand from one of the first Grey Wardens. Probably ever, since it was the first Blight and all. She had no idea where Leon got all these rare books from, though being a Seeker no doubt had something to do with it. It occurred to Khari, not for the first time, that by the time he was done with her, she'd probably have one of the best strategic and tactical educations of anyone in Thedas, for the books alone. Never mind how good he was at explaining things to her.
There was something a little bit humbling about that. A lot humbling, really. She took her customary seat at the table, pulling the quill and inkwell on it a little closer to herself. She wasn't sure if she'd be drawing maps, plotting assaults, or what today, but she was looking forward to it.
Leon tilted his head at her, leaning forward a bit in his seat to brace himself against his desk on his forearms. "All right, so tell me: how did the Grey Wardens first start? What's the tactically relevant information about their capabilities during the first Blight?"
Khari pursed her lips, but it didn't take her long to come up with the answer. Tactically relevant meant cutting out all the unnecessary stuff and providing as much detail as she could about the who, when, and where. Also how. Especially how. “Minus three hundred five Ancient." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “They were all veterans; they all knew what fighting darkspawn was like already, so they didn't have to waste any time training new people, and they discarded all the previous alliances they had, so they could move when and how they wanted, without having to answer to anyone else. That gave them mobility, tactical fluidity, and experience all at the same time."
Not so unlike the Inquisition, in that sense—or at least the Irregulars. Except not all of them had been particularly experienced beforehand. “Their first leader was Carinus, or so the stories say. Some scholars debate his existence at all, but the ones who acknowledge him say he was already a leader before, and was convinced of the danger of the darkspawn, and the connection between them and the Blight itself. They put themselves to getting information first, and from everywhere. Tevinter blood mages, elven slaves... everywhere. That helped them figure out the Joining, which was and is their biggest advantage over the 'spawn."
Her brows knit. “Actually, we're a lot like them, I think. They had the Joining, we have the marks. And the people to help us figure out the use we can best put them to, and the independence. Probably some of the governments at the time didn't like them much, either, but the book never said anything about that."
Leon smiled, clearly pleased. "The analogy had occurred to me as well," he admitted, "though perhaps it is best not made too frequently. We might be thought of as putting on airs were we to dare it publicly." The Wardens of the first Blight at least were considered unequivocal heroes, and that had been and still was the attitude of many towards their current incarnation, the events at Adamant notwithstanding. "We'd best take care to emulate only part of their history, however." Leon seemed to be thinking along that line, anyway.
He took a deep breath then, pausing before he exhaled it softly. "In any case, well done. I've got a few more for you to read, and perhaps some planning exercises as well, but... first I'd like to tell you something, if you don't mind." Leon's face wore an expression that was hard to place, as if it had been caught somewhere between melancholy and... something else. Acceptance, maybe, or thoughtfulness.
Khari might be pretty socially oblivious on the best of days, but even she knew this had to be something important. She stiffened almost by reflex, but then forced herself to relax, blinking large green eyes over at Leon. She didn't like the look on his face—hated it, in fact. He might be a pretty serious guy on the average day, maybe, but she knew all about the dry-bone sense of humor under it, and the fact that she couldn't sense it now bothered her. He shouldn't have any reason to look so fucking sad.
But even she had a feeling she wasn't going to get what she wanted on this one. “Is it about what happened at Kasos, before that guy stabbed you?" Khari had seen a lot of battlefield ferocity. Hell, she was probably one of the worst offenders she'd ever met when it came to sheer carnage. That was what happened when keeping herself alive meant tapping into her anger and letting it loose. But Leon that day... he'd made everything she was capable of look like a skinny kid with a stick all over again. In more ways than one, and not all of them good.
He grimaced; his jaw tightened. "Yes," he replied softly. "And no." Looking indecisive for a moment, Leon stood, crossing to the table she was seated at and taking the chair directly across from her. The table was only about two feet wide, creating a sense of very little space, considering how much he towered even with his posture hunched, as it was now.
He looked down at his hands, presently ungloved. They had become so mottled with damage and scar tissue over time that his knuckles were white spiderwebbed over shiny pink, gradually receding into the parts of his hands that weren't quite so frequently destroyed. But even there, lines crisscrossed, slashes of paler tissue knotted subtly over his already-fair skin. There was a new one forming over his palm, where he'd stopped the Lord Seeker's halberd mid-swing. He usually wore at least thin leather to cover them, but not when it was just them. "I don't know why, but somehow it's much harder to tell you this than it has been to tell anyone else."
Khari wasn't really sure why either, but she didn't like where this was going. “Because I'm so awesome it's intimidating to talk to me?" The grin she stretched across her face wavered and disappeared quickly, unable to quite penetrate the cloud of discomfort settling over their little corner of the room. Instead, she thinned her lips, ducking her head to meet his eyes. It wasn't so hard, considering the height difference. “Hey Leon... whatever it is, you know you're still great, right? Nobody can change my mind about that—not even you. I'm a stubborn sonuvabitch once I've decided I like somebody."
He exhaled a soft huff at that, though it wasn't quite even, like his breath would have shaken if he'd released it more slowly. "I know you are," he replied, dipping his head but choosing not to break eye contact. "Maybe that's what I'm worried about." He didn't explain that, though, instead visibly gathering himself to get around to what he wanted to say. "I'm... I'm dying, Khari. And not slowly. This might be the last summer I get." His throat worked as he swallowed, but he fell silent, regarding her with a clear mix of expectancy and resignation.
It felt like all the air had left her lungs. Like all at once, everything that kept her moving and active and alive had just... stopped. Heartbeat, breathing, train of thought, everything. She didn't know how long it lasted, how long she just stared at him, searching for the joke or the trick or the caveat she somehow knew she wouldn't find. He wouldn't joke about something like that. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone should joke about.
So he was telling the truth.
That thought started her brain going again, and the rest of her along with it. Khari shook herself, swallowing back the lump that had risen in her throat. “You're—but—how? Why?" She wasn't sure that was coherent, but then she also wasn't sure she could manage coherent right now. This wasn't the kind of bad news that she could just take in her stride, because it wasn't the kind where the setback was temporary, or where a little more practice, or effort, or just time would help it work itself out. And she knew without having to ask that there wasn't a damn thing she could do. That didn't quite hurt the most, but maybe the second-most.
Leon dropped his eyes to the table again, running a finger along the edge of a diagram she'd drawn during her last lesson. He'd had her running mock scenarios on some of the Inquisition's previous battles. The image was of Haven the night Corypheus attacked. "Reaver tonic," he said. "Repeated doses. I can explain the alchemy to you if you want, but it's not important." He shook his head faintly. "You know, if I were more like you, I wouldn't have this problem. But all my strength, all my... capability. It's borrowed. Not my own. This is just the debt coming due." He sounded almost wry. Like he'd accepted that much. Perhaps he had—he'd surely known it was coming for quite some time.
"I'm going to last as long as I can. Maybe it'll be longer than I think. But this... it's not the kind of thing willpower or strength can resolve. My body is decaying. Healing magic won't stop it. I wish I could say something more optimistic, but my position demands realism."
Khari felt her lower lip tremble. Probably she should be angry. Angry at him for not telling her, angry that the world had treated him this way, that this was his lot. Angry at the inevitability of it and angry that he seemed to think he deserved it—that it was just the price he owed for being what he was. And she was, she thought, angry about all of that. She could feel it in her guts, a slow volcanic simmer. But more than that—worse than that—was the chill she felt, a little higher up in her chest, like someone had found a way to shoot an ice spell directly at her heart.
“You can't—you can't die." Her voice cracked, but she didn't care. “Who's gonna command the army? Or get out there and practice with the troops first thing in the morning? Or lead the charges from the front, or quiz me on all the books I read, or teach me how not to be a big idiot, or beat me at capture the flag or—" Her teeth clicked shut. She could say a million other things, about how other army commanders wouldn't have cared enough to look after a bunch of orphaned kittens or talked to an elf in the ranks like she deserved to be taken seriously, or stuttered hilariously when she told him how impressed she was with his conditioning. Mostly they were selfish things, though, and really they all came down to one basic point.
“You make me feel like it's gonna be okay, Leon. Like we've really got a chance, like what we do matters, and I don't—fuck." She couldn't even finish her sentences right. There was a hot sting at the back of her eyes; she could feel the pressure building behind her cheekbones.
Leon looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. Almost shellshocked, like someone as strong as he was had punched him square in the jaw. "I tried not to make any friends," he said, almost too low to hear. Reaching up, he dragged both hands down his face, letting them land heavily on the table again. His eyes weren't any drier than hers. "I did my best to set things up so that it would be simple, to keep them moving if it happened while I was here." He exhaled, the tremble in his breath obvious now. The faintest hint of a wry smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "But you really don't make it easy for people not to be your friend. Before I knew it, I had more than one, even."
He shook his head, hands closing into fists where they rested. "My whole life, I've managed to be more or less alone. Solitary. Willing to give up whatever was necessary to do my duty. And now, when I really can't let myself be otherwise, suddenly I—" He grimaced. "Suddenly I just want to live."
Khari gritted her teeth hard to stop whatever it was that fought to tear free of her. Probably a sob, or a hiccup, or something like that. Instead, she gripped the edge of the table, pulling herself up onto it and lunging forward, scattering papers and knocking over her neat stack of books. They didn't matter. What mattered a lot more was the fact that he was within hug range now, and that was what she did, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. She didn't have anything to give him but this. No advice, no solution or cure or anything. Just this.
That was what scared her about having friends. About caring about people. Situations just like now—where someone she wanted to help was suffering and there was nothing at all she could do. He said he hadn't wanted to make friends, and she understood perfectly well why. Because this hurt a million times more than it would have if they'd never mattered to each other. He could have died content enough with what he'd done, and she wouldn't have had to watch it from such a near distance. Her fingers tightened in the roughspun fabric over his back, forehead resting against his shoulder. Even with her knees on the tabletop, he was so damn tall.
Leon went from stiff to slack underneath her, less relaxing than surrendering, like the whole thing was inevitable. Cautiously at first, he slid his thick arms around her middle, leaning his head a bit so his chin rested on her crown. When she remained where she was, he tightened his grip a little, a heavy breath gusting over her head. "When it happens, I—will you be there?"
She didn't want to think about it. Khari didn't want to plan what she would be doing on the day Leon died, because she didn't want to face the fact that he would. She didn't want to believe she'd have to wake up some morning and learn that it was the last day she'd get to spend with her friend. But it was worse than that, because Leon was something more than just her friend—a word that, on its own, she threw around too easily. He was a teacher and a mentor, but that wasn't quite right, either. She didn't have a word for what it was, and that frustrated her, too. All she knew was how important it was.
“If." She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling two warm fat tears leak out of their corners. Khari couldn't bring herself to give a shit. If there was anything worth crying over, something like this was it. “If it happens, I'll—" She choked, then sobbed, unable to make it stop. “I'll tell you the stupidest fucking jokes, and give you the best fucking hug you've had in your whole fucking life, Leon. Whatever you want. Whatever—" She turned her face into his shoulder, unable to say anything else.
Something landed on her head, like the first raindrop on a cloudy day, but warmer. He shook in her grip, a strained chuckle and maybe something else bubbling partway up in his chest. "It'll be difficult to beat this one," he said, rubbing her back a little with one huge hand. "But I'll hold you to that."
But she could handle it, brushing off the offer from assistance one of the guards on the wall started before he could properly finish it, hitting the last stair with a sigh of relief and striking off towards Leon's office. It was actually kind of hot today, which happened even in Skyhold, at least smack in the middle of summer like this. She didn't envy the patrolmen their heavy armor in the heat, and had kept her own attire to a sleeveless tunic and the loosest pair of trousers she had. Hell, even her shoes were the kind that left her heels and toes uncovered. Kind of elfy, for her, but practicality won out on a day like today every time.
She didn't bother to knock when she got to the office, in part because that would have probably involved dropping all the books. The door was cracked, probably a concession to the temperature, and she shouldered it open. “Sorry I'm late, Leon." she said, moving immediately to the table where he usually had her do strategy exercises and dropping the books with a heavy thud. “Chess match with Cy ran late. He's getting a lot better. Almost had me this time." Khari could never quite get over the little bit of glee she felt at being able to regularly hand an actual genius his ass at a game for smart people.
She exhaled at being relieved of her burden, rolling her shoulders and shaking her arms out. After a bit of contemplation, she took hold of her long, haphazard ponytail and curled it around itself several times until all of it was off her neck, shifting a couple pins around on her head to make it stay there. Even the office was hot, but at least this way the sweat beading on the back of her neck might actually help cool her down instead of making her feel like she was slowly melting.
Leon didn't seem to be handling the heat any better than she was; probably in part because he was still wearing full sleeves for some reason. He never seemed to want to expose much of his skin, even when it would make sense to do it, and today wasn't an exception, clearly. He glanced up from his work when she entered, smiling with what seemed to be a slight edge of strain, but he refrained from speaking until she'd settled a bit.
"It's not a problem," he said mildly. "I was trying to catch up on some of the things I fell behind on while we were at Kasos anyway." And the week he'd spent in the infirmary after, no doubt. "Are you done reading those already? You really can't do anything halfway, can you?" He sounded vaguely impressed, or maybe just bewildered.
The latter was a reaction she was pretty used to. Khari grinned at him, then nodded once. “You bet. I read the history of the first Blight one twice, too." She was pretty proud of herself, actually, though it wasn't like it had been hard. The account had been gripping, narrated firsthand from one of the first Grey Wardens. Probably ever, since it was the first Blight and all. She had no idea where Leon got all these rare books from, though being a Seeker no doubt had something to do with it. It occurred to Khari, not for the first time, that by the time he was done with her, she'd probably have one of the best strategic and tactical educations of anyone in Thedas, for the books alone. Never mind how good he was at explaining things to her.
There was something a little bit humbling about that. A lot humbling, really. She took her customary seat at the table, pulling the quill and inkwell on it a little closer to herself. She wasn't sure if she'd be drawing maps, plotting assaults, or what today, but she was looking forward to it.
Leon tilted his head at her, leaning forward a bit in his seat to brace himself against his desk on his forearms. "All right, so tell me: how did the Grey Wardens first start? What's the tactically relevant information about their capabilities during the first Blight?"
Khari pursed her lips, but it didn't take her long to come up with the answer. Tactically relevant meant cutting out all the unnecessary stuff and providing as much detail as she could about the who, when, and where. Also how. Especially how. “Minus three hundred five Ancient." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “They were all veterans; they all knew what fighting darkspawn was like already, so they didn't have to waste any time training new people, and they discarded all the previous alliances they had, so they could move when and how they wanted, without having to answer to anyone else. That gave them mobility, tactical fluidity, and experience all at the same time."
Not so unlike the Inquisition, in that sense—or at least the Irregulars. Except not all of them had been particularly experienced beforehand. “Their first leader was Carinus, or so the stories say. Some scholars debate his existence at all, but the ones who acknowledge him say he was already a leader before, and was convinced of the danger of the darkspawn, and the connection between them and the Blight itself. They put themselves to getting information first, and from everywhere. Tevinter blood mages, elven slaves... everywhere. That helped them figure out the Joining, which was and is their biggest advantage over the 'spawn."
Her brows knit. “Actually, we're a lot like them, I think. They had the Joining, we have the marks. And the people to help us figure out the use we can best put them to, and the independence. Probably some of the governments at the time didn't like them much, either, but the book never said anything about that."
Leon smiled, clearly pleased. "The analogy had occurred to me as well," he admitted, "though perhaps it is best not made too frequently. We might be thought of as putting on airs were we to dare it publicly." The Wardens of the first Blight at least were considered unequivocal heroes, and that had been and still was the attitude of many towards their current incarnation, the events at Adamant notwithstanding. "We'd best take care to emulate only part of their history, however." Leon seemed to be thinking along that line, anyway.
He took a deep breath then, pausing before he exhaled it softly. "In any case, well done. I've got a few more for you to read, and perhaps some planning exercises as well, but... first I'd like to tell you something, if you don't mind." Leon's face wore an expression that was hard to place, as if it had been caught somewhere between melancholy and... something else. Acceptance, maybe, or thoughtfulness.
Khari might be pretty socially oblivious on the best of days, but even she knew this had to be something important. She stiffened almost by reflex, but then forced herself to relax, blinking large green eyes over at Leon. She didn't like the look on his face—hated it, in fact. He might be a pretty serious guy on the average day, maybe, but she knew all about the dry-bone sense of humor under it, and the fact that she couldn't sense it now bothered her. He shouldn't have any reason to look so fucking sad.
But even she had a feeling she wasn't going to get what she wanted on this one. “Is it about what happened at Kasos, before that guy stabbed you?" Khari had seen a lot of battlefield ferocity. Hell, she was probably one of the worst offenders she'd ever met when it came to sheer carnage. That was what happened when keeping herself alive meant tapping into her anger and letting it loose. But Leon that day... he'd made everything she was capable of look like a skinny kid with a stick all over again. In more ways than one, and not all of them good.
He grimaced; his jaw tightened. "Yes," he replied softly. "And no." Looking indecisive for a moment, Leon stood, crossing to the table she was seated at and taking the chair directly across from her. The table was only about two feet wide, creating a sense of very little space, considering how much he towered even with his posture hunched, as it was now.
He looked down at his hands, presently ungloved. They had become so mottled with damage and scar tissue over time that his knuckles were white spiderwebbed over shiny pink, gradually receding into the parts of his hands that weren't quite so frequently destroyed. But even there, lines crisscrossed, slashes of paler tissue knotted subtly over his already-fair skin. There was a new one forming over his palm, where he'd stopped the Lord Seeker's halberd mid-swing. He usually wore at least thin leather to cover them, but not when it was just them. "I don't know why, but somehow it's much harder to tell you this than it has been to tell anyone else."
Khari wasn't really sure why either, but she didn't like where this was going. “Because I'm so awesome it's intimidating to talk to me?" The grin she stretched across her face wavered and disappeared quickly, unable to quite penetrate the cloud of discomfort settling over their little corner of the room. Instead, she thinned her lips, ducking her head to meet his eyes. It wasn't so hard, considering the height difference. “Hey Leon... whatever it is, you know you're still great, right? Nobody can change my mind about that—not even you. I'm a stubborn sonuvabitch once I've decided I like somebody."
He exhaled a soft huff at that, though it wasn't quite even, like his breath would have shaken if he'd released it more slowly. "I know you are," he replied, dipping his head but choosing not to break eye contact. "Maybe that's what I'm worried about." He didn't explain that, though, instead visibly gathering himself to get around to what he wanted to say. "I'm... I'm dying, Khari. And not slowly. This might be the last summer I get." His throat worked as he swallowed, but he fell silent, regarding her with a clear mix of expectancy and resignation.
It felt like all the air had left her lungs. Like all at once, everything that kept her moving and active and alive had just... stopped. Heartbeat, breathing, train of thought, everything. She didn't know how long it lasted, how long she just stared at him, searching for the joke or the trick or the caveat she somehow knew she wouldn't find. He wouldn't joke about something like that. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone should joke about.
So he was telling the truth.
That thought started her brain going again, and the rest of her along with it. Khari shook herself, swallowing back the lump that had risen in her throat. “You're—but—how? Why?" She wasn't sure that was coherent, but then she also wasn't sure she could manage coherent right now. This wasn't the kind of bad news that she could just take in her stride, because it wasn't the kind where the setback was temporary, or where a little more practice, or effort, or just time would help it work itself out. And she knew without having to ask that there wasn't a damn thing she could do. That didn't quite hurt the most, but maybe the second-most.
Leon dropped his eyes to the table again, running a finger along the edge of a diagram she'd drawn during her last lesson. He'd had her running mock scenarios on some of the Inquisition's previous battles. The image was of Haven the night Corypheus attacked. "Reaver tonic," he said. "Repeated doses. I can explain the alchemy to you if you want, but it's not important." He shook his head faintly. "You know, if I were more like you, I wouldn't have this problem. But all my strength, all my... capability. It's borrowed. Not my own. This is just the debt coming due." He sounded almost wry. Like he'd accepted that much. Perhaps he had—he'd surely known it was coming for quite some time.
"I'm going to last as long as I can. Maybe it'll be longer than I think. But this... it's not the kind of thing willpower or strength can resolve. My body is decaying. Healing magic won't stop it. I wish I could say something more optimistic, but my position demands realism."
Khari felt her lower lip tremble. Probably she should be angry. Angry at him for not telling her, angry that the world had treated him this way, that this was his lot. Angry at the inevitability of it and angry that he seemed to think he deserved it—that it was just the price he owed for being what he was. And she was, she thought, angry about all of that. She could feel it in her guts, a slow volcanic simmer. But more than that—worse than that—was the chill she felt, a little higher up in her chest, like someone had found a way to shoot an ice spell directly at her heart.
“You can't—you can't die." Her voice cracked, but she didn't care. “Who's gonna command the army? Or get out there and practice with the troops first thing in the morning? Or lead the charges from the front, or quiz me on all the books I read, or teach me how not to be a big idiot, or beat me at capture the flag or—" Her teeth clicked shut. She could say a million other things, about how other army commanders wouldn't have cared enough to look after a bunch of orphaned kittens or talked to an elf in the ranks like she deserved to be taken seriously, or stuttered hilariously when she told him how impressed she was with his conditioning. Mostly they were selfish things, though, and really they all came down to one basic point.
“You make me feel like it's gonna be okay, Leon. Like we've really got a chance, like what we do matters, and I don't—fuck." She couldn't even finish her sentences right. There was a hot sting at the back of her eyes; she could feel the pressure building behind her cheekbones.
Leon looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. Almost shellshocked, like someone as strong as he was had punched him square in the jaw. "I tried not to make any friends," he said, almost too low to hear. Reaching up, he dragged both hands down his face, letting them land heavily on the table again. His eyes weren't any drier than hers. "I did my best to set things up so that it would be simple, to keep them moving if it happened while I was here." He exhaled, the tremble in his breath obvious now. The faintest hint of a wry smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "But you really don't make it easy for people not to be your friend. Before I knew it, I had more than one, even."
He shook his head, hands closing into fists where they rested. "My whole life, I've managed to be more or less alone. Solitary. Willing to give up whatever was necessary to do my duty. And now, when I really can't let myself be otherwise, suddenly I—" He grimaced. "Suddenly I just want to live."
Khari gritted her teeth hard to stop whatever it was that fought to tear free of her. Probably a sob, or a hiccup, or something like that. Instead, she gripped the edge of the table, pulling herself up onto it and lunging forward, scattering papers and knocking over her neat stack of books. They didn't matter. What mattered a lot more was the fact that he was within hug range now, and that was what she did, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. She didn't have anything to give him but this. No advice, no solution or cure or anything. Just this.
That was what scared her about having friends. About caring about people. Situations just like now—where someone she wanted to help was suffering and there was nothing at all she could do. He said he hadn't wanted to make friends, and she understood perfectly well why. Because this hurt a million times more than it would have if they'd never mattered to each other. He could have died content enough with what he'd done, and she wouldn't have had to watch it from such a near distance. Her fingers tightened in the roughspun fabric over his back, forehead resting against his shoulder. Even with her knees on the tabletop, he was so damn tall.
Leon went from stiff to slack underneath her, less relaxing than surrendering, like the whole thing was inevitable. Cautiously at first, he slid his thick arms around her middle, leaning his head a bit so his chin rested on her crown. When she remained where she was, he tightened his grip a little, a heavy breath gusting over her head. "When it happens, I—will you be there?"
She didn't want to think about it. Khari didn't want to plan what she would be doing on the day Leon died, because she didn't want to face the fact that he would. She didn't want to believe she'd have to wake up some morning and learn that it was the last day she'd get to spend with her friend. But it was worse than that, because Leon was something more than just her friend—a word that, on its own, she threw around too easily. He was a teacher and a mentor, but that wasn't quite right, either. She didn't have a word for what it was, and that frustrated her, too. All she knew was how important it was.
“If." She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling two warm fat tears leak out of their corners. Khari couldn't bring herself to give a shit. If there was anything worth crying over, something like this was it. “If it happens, I'll—" She choked, then sobbed, unable to make it stop. “I'll tell you the stupidest fucking jokes, and give you the best fucking hug you've had in your whole fucking life, Leon. Whatever you want. Whatever—" She turned her face into his shoulder, unable to say anything else.
Something landed on her head, like the first raindrop on a cloudy day, but warmer. He shook in her grip, a strained chuckle and maybe something else bubbling partway up in his chest. "It'll be difficult to beat this one," he said, rubbing her back a little with one huge hand. "But I'll hold you to that."