When Eileen had been forced by her aunt to go into the passageway, she had honestly expected it would not be the last time she saw the older woman. It wasn't out of a childish faith in Rachel, out of a disbelief in the ability of another member of her family to fall. It had been simple necessity.
She couldn't worry about Rachel. She had to worry about the troops, about herself, about the men and women gasping for direction in the heat of the battle. Personal concern wasn't allowed.
It wasn't until the war was over, not until the last assassin had been carted off and the final body count tallied, that she allowed herself to shake, to breathe without confidence. To worry about the people she loved with her full heart who hadn't come marching in exhausted triumph back to their home.
There are a few beds she's been circulating between in her time not devoted to building a more solid structure to rebuild their world in. It's happenstance that the bed she's fallen asleep, entirely exhausted, against is Rachel's.
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She couldn't worry about Rachel. She had to worry about the troops, about herself, about the men and women gasping for direction in the heat of the battle. Personal concern wasn't allowed.
It wasn't until the war was over, not until the last assassin had been carted off and the final body count tallied, that she allowed herself to shake, to breathe without confidence. To worry about the people she loved with her full heart who hadn't come marching in exhausted triumph back to their home.
There are a few beds she's been circulating between in her time not devoted to building a more solid structure to rebuild their world in. It's happenstance that the bed she's fallen asleep, entirely exhausted, against is Rachel's.