I hold with those who favor fire

If she leant forward, just a little, she would find his hand. She'd twine their fingers until his were curved tightly over the bank of hers. He was so near. It would be enough, and it would be nothing.

She struggled now to be content with her place. It hadn't been so hard in the beginning. The healer was needed, not the girl. It was what she expected. It was all she'd known.

In a few more days, he wouldn't need her assistance to remember. He'd already begun recalling pieces of his life with joy, his eyes alive with it.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he didn't need her at all...

The thought sent her to her feet, the suddenness startling her. She would learn yet. It was her fault, after all, letting her mind wander indiscriminately during his illness, taking liberties in the maudlin silence. None of them were real, not the soft raspiness of his voice nor the hammering of her heart.

Tomorrow I will forget. But just for a moment tonight, let me look at you, longingly and with no shame.

Memories are such volatile things, but he wasn't in the least bit intimidated. He was lucky. She would be happy for him, even as she fought to hear him in her mind, fought to hear those words that will never cross his lips.