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[theunpressuredclub]

It's so different from the Deck.

The city in which Ophelia has helped her set up has nothing of the suffocating smallness that her home has. Nobody here knows entirely who she is except for the small handful of people the Queen had pointed her in the direction of-- and even they only really know her as a Diamond, not necessarily a Suit-switcher. It's refreshing.

It makes it tempting, almost, for her not to come back, regardless of whether or not she decides to raise the child growing inside her-- a decision she's still struggling to make, this far along. Because yes, while she knows the boy (and it's a boy. Edgar would be thrilled, in other circumstances) would remind her almost constantly of his father, she's also not certain if she doesn't want the reminder. She misses Edgar Eicheln, after all.

But missing him certainly does not mean expecting him to show up at the door of the apartment she's staying in. Thank goodness she looked through the peephole before opening it.

It's tempting to not respond to his knock. But she also knows just how resilient he can be if he thinks there's anything like a chance.

There's a crack in her voice as she calls through the door, "Please leave."

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[ofthecubs]

It took a lot to leave home. It was excruciatingly painful to hug his brothers goodbye and tell Andrew and Argine not to follow him. But there was nothing else to do.

He needed to see her again. He needed to tell her he had been wrong and that it would be worth the sacrifice of his family to build a life with her. He needed to find her out in the world, because she'd vanished from the Deck almost without a trace.

Ophelia had been kind enough in her own way, but the Queen's loyalty was--rightly--with the young woman who had come to be her own. The Diamonds seal up before him, smiles like masks and shoulders shrugging with practiced helplessness. It's scraps of nothingness he leaves the Deck with at last, and it's a few overwhelming cities he drags through before he comes to the door that finally, finally has her voice coming through from the other side.

She sounds tired. She sounds unhappy. She sounds like she doesn't want to see him, but he can't make himself move away from leaning heavily on the door frame.

"I just want to talk."

[theunpressuredclub]

"I don't want to talk to you, Edgar."

It's a lie. It's such a lie. Her entire being wants to open the door and curl into his arms again, let go of some of the worries that have been resting so heavily on her shoulders for so long.

"It's-- haven't we said enough?"

And haven't they ruined everything as a result?

[ofthecubs]

His heart is already broken, but it feels like it cracks even further at those words. His breath comes rough and shaky as he leans his forehead properly against the door between them.

"Rachel, it-- I was wrong."

It's important to say, even if she doesn't want to have a conversation.

[theunpressuredclub]

It's not what she expected to hear, even if somehow she couldn't figure out another reason why he'd appear at her door-- other than their child, perhaps. Her hand presses nervously against her stomach at the thought.

But there's genuine surprise at his words. For a moment, she can't say anything for the fact that they take his breath away.

"You-- you-- were?"

He believes that?

[ofthecubs]

The pause worries him. The strain in her voice when she does speak again doesn't disperse the worries at all.

But this, at least, is what he'd come to say. There's nothing to do now but say it, rattled and exhausted and forcing himself through every syllable she needs to hear.

"I was wrong. It-- It wasn't too much. It wasn't-- beyond expectation. It was a fight I should have fought because you-- you're worth a much bigger sacrifice. Rachel, I--" Pushing at the locked door slightly was unconscious, but punctuated the statement with a frustrated sigh. "I love you. And if I have to choose, I-- I choose you. If it's too late, it's too late, but... but I didn't want you not to know you were right. Or to think I-- didn't love you."

[theunpressuredclub]

She starts a bit at the nudge on the door. Finds herself with a hand resting tentatively on the knob as she listens.

There's a rough sob that escapes from her lips, soft but still audible, as he works through things.

"I shouldn't have-- asked you to choose, Ed." She has to get that out there, as well. It hadn't been fair, after all, to him or to the lives they both had wanted to lead. So much for that, "And I-- I can't ask you to choose this-- choose me, now. This-- you've got a good plan for things, Ed. Always have. I don't-- want to ruin that for you."

And this will. There's no question of whether or not it will.

"I-- I love you." And it hurts to say it, so much, "But-- maybe it's better like this."

[ofthecubs]

"It's not better."

He doesn't know about the rest of it, perhaps. He doesn't really know if she should or shouldn't have asked him, or if he should or shouldn't have chosen differently. All he knows is that his plans--however good--feel like nothing without her in them.

"Rach--" He'd meant to call her 'Rachel,' but the crack in his voice keeps it back. "Rach, it's-- it's nothing at all like better like this. Please, just-- I can't do this. Rach, I can't-- do any of this without you."

[theunpressuredclub]

She's crying again. She's been doing a lot of that, lately, if she's honest with herself. She can't keep it from her voice when she replies.

"I-- Ed, I can't--"

She can't do this to him. She also can't do this without him. It's so hard to express, either way.

[ofthecubs]

She's crying. He knows her well enough--every hair on her head and every tone of her voice--to know she's crying. Shoving at the door again is entirely unconscious.

"We can't keep doing this. We can't. Please, Rach, just-- just let me in. Let's-- let's try talking about it again. Please."

[theunpressuredclub]

Shoving at the door also gets her starting again. It's so hard to breathe like this. His plea to be let in gets her voice rising with panic.

"N-no. Ed, please-- please, just go."

Because he'll hate her for this, she's sure of it. Him knowing that she didn't tell him will ruin any chance they have.

[ofthecubs]

"Then-- tell me how to do this."

Because he can't, anymore. He can barely walk away from the door, let alone any straws he's grasping at here for another chance.

"Rach, if-- if you love me, tell me how to-- keep going without you. Because I can't, right now. I-- I can't."

[theunpressuredclub]

"Find-- find someone else."

And it breaks her heart to say it. She doesn't know that it's a sentiment his father had expressed to try to get him to move on, as well, and is inadvertently the same thing that brought him to her door now.

"Find-- find someone else and try t'be happy with them, or else-- throw yourself into working.'s-- I know you can do that."

[ofthecubs]

He wasn't certain he could get any lower. Apparently he'd been wrong, because hearing those words again--in her voice, in the voice of the woman his entire heart is still desperately wrapped up in and unable to let go if--actually stops him from breathing.

Actually stops him from thinking, for just a moment. Actually brings him teetering to his knees outside her door.

He's just dizzy for a moment, kneeling there. He's just trying to remember how to breathe before he can choke out, "Is.... is that what you did? You... found some... someone else?"

[theunpressuredclub]

The silence is worrying. The way his voice trembles breaks her heart.

She should lie. She should tell him that she's found someone else and doesn't want to see him anymore.

She can't when the question makes her ache so much.

"N-no, Ed." Not in the way he thinks, anyways.

[ofthecubs]

"Then why-- why do I have to?"

Because it sounds like hell, trying to love someone else. It sounds like he'd have to live forever with a crack in his heart and a constant reminder of the fact that he wasn't happy--and wasn't making the woman by his side happy.

[theunpressuredclub]

"Because I-- think you could find someone, Ed. There's-- there's women back home who can-- make you happy. Help you-- do what you want to do."

Not hold him back with a child and the wrong Suit from the get-go.

[ofthecubs]

"They can't." Pressing his forehead to the door doesn't help. His voice still crackles unhappily with hurt. He still can't stand up. "Rach, they-- they can't. I don't-- I don't want to-- just be King and have good Club sons to-- treat the way my father's treating us."

Charles has, generally, been a good father. It's just that Edgar can't imagine, sitting here against this door, ever raising a child under this heavy a burden of expectations. This many demands that went against finding actual happiness.

"I want you. I want-- to make things work with you. Rach, I-- I want to-- get a place in Town so we can-- both go to our own Castles in the morning or-- or live here so it-- won't matter, just-- Rach--"

[theunpressuredclub]

Her breath comes out in a ragged gasp at the words, her own knees buckling beneath her and a sudden, firm kick from the child making her slump.

"Y-you-- don't want--?"

[ofthecubs]

His laugh doesn't sound much like one. It sounds more like a flicker of desperation trying to escape.

"I don't want a throne if I don't have you to share it with. I don't-- Rach, there's-- I want you. I want-- whatever that comes with. We tried this-- being apart and living our own lives, and-- Rach, I don't want it. I just... I just want whatever life we make together."

[theunpressuredclub]

The baby kicks again, leaves her temporarily breathless. There's another quiet sob she can't help but let loose.

"It's-- Edgar, if we did it'd-- be so complicated." So much more complicated than he knows, at the moment. "There's-- I've made such a-- such a mess of things."

[ofthecubs]

"We both did. We-- we both made this mess."

And he'll look back, someday, and understand more properly exactly how true those words were.

"Rach... Rach, it wouldn't-- We could stay here. Out here. No one-- no one would care. We'd tell Drew and Argine and-- and then we could just live our lives. How's that complicated?"

[theunpressuredclub]

"Because it-- is, Ed. It's--"

She can't tell him. She has to tell him. She's so torn in both directions she can't actually think straight.

"'f we-- stay or if we-- go home. Either way 'f we're-- together, it's complicated."

Because of the baby, mainly, yes, but also because of the nature of who they are. Of what they both want or thought they wanted out of their lives.

[ofthecubs]

"We love each other."

He knows he loves her. She says she loves him--and believing anything else is, in this moment, far too overwhelming. Far too entirely painful.

"That's-- that all it is. That's simple." His forehead presses more firmly against the door between them, voice rough from the struggle to keep speaking. "Everything else is-- is just us making it complicated."

[theunpressuredclub]

"Love's complicated, Ed," comes the reply, "It's-- it's complicated and confusing and it can-- hurt people."

And that was a lesson she'd started to unlearn with him, before things had gone south. It's not unexpected-- although likely it is painful-- to find her reverting to that way of thinking again when she's been under so much strain.

"I don't--"

Don't want to hurt him, and doesn't want to be hurt again.

[ofthecubs]

It sets his nerves on edge, the way she says it. It feels so much like progress--real, genuine opening up into someone who felt safe and secure and properly loved--has been cracked by this mistake.

His mistake. His mistake in handling what was her mistake in asking, but still his mistake.

"If..." It's a little easier to speak if he drops his voice down to a murmur, hopefully just loud and low enough to carry through the door. "If I could, I'd... I'd promise you wouldn't-- ever get hurt again. But-- I can't. That's not... that's not how love works."

And really, for better or worse, loving the way Eichelns did--almost all-consuming--only ever made that worse.

"All I can promise is... is doing my best. Is-- is putting everything else-- everything less important, Rach, which-- is everything."