Lachlan frowned, surprised by her response. Lach had always been something of an optimist, even if he thought himself silly for being that way sometimes. He wasn't sure what she meant by "accepting of the change". Who really was, anyways?

"I think we'll have to agree to disagree. There are plenty of things out of our control, and feelings are one of them." He thought about his relationship with Fallon. They hadn't chosen to be together on that train when it became necessary to work together.  They hadn't chosen to take a liking to one another, even if their initial acquaintanceship was rocky and riddled with bickering. They hadn't chosen to happen upon each other twice, once when the key was discovered and the next when they'd disappeared into the arctic tundra. "I think it takes more effort to walk away from that sort of change than it takes to welcome it. The natural order of things. Nobody likes having regrets." The words left his mouth wistfully, almost morosely. He had plenty of regrets, both related to his personal life and professional; perhaps that was why he was more willing to look into a settled life. He was afraid of missing out. Near-death experiences had a way of doing that to people, he'd realized.

"You're still young," he said to her, offering a half-smile. She was younger than him, at least, and was not in any rush like a debutante might be. "I am, too, I know, but you've barely reached the prime of your career. I'm past mine. You never know what will happen, who you'll meet. Maybe that's why I'm more willing to settle" He looked at her, an intensity in his gaze, and lowered his voice. "We nearly died, Fallon. I thought we would," he admitted. "I know it's different for you, but I can't help but fixate what I might have missed out on. You can't tell me it didn't change how you think about life?"

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"I agree that you can't control feelings," she said quickly. After all, if she could she wouldn't still be harboring a crush for a man who saw her as a friend only. "It's what you do about those feelings that you control." Men proposed, not because their love and feelings were limitless, but because it was the next step meant to be taken. Because they sought after the security of marriage. "But, yes, we can agree to disagree."

The questions he posed left her deeply uncomfortable. Despite her overwhelming gratitude at having survived, Fallon couldn't really be anything but furious. Even now that a suspect was in custody she was still capable of murdering the bastard in cold blood, of torturing him in ways she hadn't even imagined yet. Pondering the opportunities she could've missed out on hadn't ranked anywhere near high enough to surpass the rage.

Shifting in her seat, Fallon met his gaze briefly before dropping it back down to her hands. It wasn't just rage she felt, but shame too. Shame for giving up as she had, for allowing him to get as sick as he did. If only she'd been just a little more focused, just a little more determined, maybe they could've escaped sooner. "All I am is angry, Lachlan. Angry it happened. Angry that I sleep so fitfully because I'm alone. Angry we — I gave up." She said lowly, her hands clenching into white knuckled fists. "I can carry on, act like everything's normal, but the second I think of it I'm right back in my fury."

  

He supposed, in a way, she was right. He  could fall in love, but he had to choose to propose. He could be angry, but he could choose whether or not to act on it. But feelings also had the potential to overwhelm, to consume. He’d never been one to let himself be ruled by emotions, but he was not one who suffered in silence with ease. If he was willing to accept his emotions, he was likely to act on them.

At her admission Lachlan could only frown. She had a right to be angry. They both did. In the days following their return, Lach had spent most of the time angry, too, but although he’d love nothing more than to get his hands on the suspect, he didn’t allow the rage to eat at him any longer. It was too exhausting—and he’d suffered enough exhaustion in a one-month period to last him a lifetime.

He reached across and placed a hand over her closed fist, giving it a gentle squeeze. His head dipped down as he sought her gaze. “It’s done. It’s over, and life will go on.” He was usually the brash one, the one who acted first and thought later. He’d never been particularly good at giving advice, and even less so at following it, but sometimes his method of avoiding further pain ended up being the healthier method. He didn’t miss that she’d mentioned sleep, and all he could think of was his restless nights too, but before she’d mentioned it he hadn’t considered that it was loneliness that kept him up.

“I don’t blame you. How could I? I’d be dead if you would’ve given up.” He didn’t care that they were in a bar; he allowed his palm to slip into hers at the first moment her fist relaxed, and he squeezed it again. “Maybe it’s the addition of the quidditch incident that made me realize, but nothing is going to be normal for a while. No need to act like it will be.”

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All Fallon had to offer his gentle touch and kind words was a sad smile. It was done, but at the same time it wasn't. It was happening again and again every time she saw a candle's flame or felt a cool breeze. No matter how hard she tried or how good of a day she had, the results were always the same, the trauma was always there.

She sighed. "You're right, nothing is normal." Fallon wished her world was, though. More than anything else, she desperately hoped for this all to be a drawn out nightmare, and tomorrow she'd wake up on the morning of the quidditch match all over again. "I should probably call it a night." Slowly, too slowly, she withdrew her hand from his. "It was nice to see you, Lachlan."

  

He wouldn't fight her for leaving, not like the other times. He understood how draining it could be, thinking and talking about their trauma, even if it was to each other. Both of them had had different experiences, different fears, and different emotions. He wouldn't make her stay if she didn't want to talk anymore; he imagined he was as much a reminder as fire or ice was.

Before she could get very far, he reached out and caught her hand again. "Before you go," he said quietly, making sure to catch her eyes before speaking, "Promise me you'll be careful—and write me if you need anything." She hadn't since the last day she visited him in the hospital apart from the brief ones they'd exchanged to schedule the pub meeting, so he doubted she would. Still, he wanted her to know he was here. "I'll be at home while I recover. You won't be bothering me."

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Lachlan reached for her just as he had the first time in the pub, and, just like then, Fallon stopped in her tracks to face him. Hazel eyes met green, a gaze full of emotion she couldn't quite express. "I promise," she nodded and squeezed his hand. "I'll be home, too, if you ever want company. I imagine the house arrest will be lifted now." A bit forward of her, maybe, but she meant it in the platonic sense only. There were few people she felt as safe around as she did Lachlan. "My roommate is a great cook and a healer, so she can keep an eye on you if need be."

  

Lach smiled and nodded, understanding her completely. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, and meant it. Part of him wondered if either of them would follow through with their offers, or if this would be one of the last times they enjoyed (if that was the word to use) a beer.

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