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Being Her

Summary:
A series of one-shots in Claire's perspective throughout the series For Her.


Notes:
Um, will not go in any order. they come as i get bored enough to write them. PSSSTTT if you want a new story, go review with her!


48. No Sorry

Rating 5/5   Word Count 554   Review this Chapter

I wait patiently for him, wondering what the result of my little breakdown will be. He’s in his room. I can hear him pacing the tiny length in a single step, back and forth. He sounds quite tense.

I start to worry, as he’s in there. What if he thinks, really thinks, about the imprint? And chooses… to… fight it off. To do what’s best for him, remember himself like I’ve been urging him to, and leave me? How am I supposed to live without him, after this?

I breathe in. This is morbid. Quil loves me. Of that, I am certain.

I see him walk towards me, hilariously outsized in our cardboard box of a scrawny apartment. He smiles, as he sees me.

I lift an eyebrow, and I hear his hiss of inhalation. I store that knowledge for future reference—eyebrow effective on Quil. “Well?” I ask.

“You were right,” he says.

“Of course I was,” I tease. Then I smile. “But I’m glad you agree with me. Now you can be right, too.”

He stands there, just stands there, but he’s looking at me with that look that weighs a hundred pounds but makes me feel like I could fly. “I have seen the light. I love you.” The first part of his words are teasing, but the second is entirely serious. He means absolutely every word of his love.

My smile widens as I fully realize the import of his words. We’re talking about… about that… and he isn’t begging for forgiveness for something that was never his fault.

“I note the absence of any form of apology, thanks to what ever heavenly power there is. I am sick of apologies. I never want to hear you apologize ever again.”

My voice is stern on the last words, and he playfully rebels. “What if I… er… I know! Accidentally break your stuff!”

He sounds so excited.

I just have to let him down.

“No sorry.”

“Dang.”

I crack up. It’s not really the word, just his completely earnest delivery that gets me. Between the giggles, I manage, “You’re so funny. I love you. See, that’s the important thing. I love you, flaws and all. I love exactly what you are.”

I watch his eyes widen, and it sobers me. Could he honestly not have known that? Why haven’t I made it clear? Of course I love him, completely and unconditionally. Does he not accept me, no matter what I have to do? Isn’t he still here? Why would he doubt me, in turn?

And then he smiles, slowly. He doesn’t ask if I mean it, simply takes my words for the truth they are and spins to face me, grinning. He takes my hand. The heat is as comforting as always.

Then he spins me gently around, on the spot, and rests one of his big hands on either side of my face, so I’m standing close to him, held there, safe, happy.

One hand moves behind my neck, and I press the cheek he’s just released against his chest.

I could cry, I’m so happy, but I settle for a simple feeling of total peace.