Dio's memory wasn't great. It was hard to classify the feeling that went through him at that. Certainly some part of it was guilt, because she'd been injured on his watch. There was, however, a realization that accompanied it. Dio had been one of very few people who'd known any of his plans for the spring, after he'd confided them to her onboard the Voyager. There were little parts of things that were obvious to different parties, but there were really only three people who'd known the whole of it: Jo, who was gone; Dio, whose memory wasn't great; and Ari, who obviously had other things on his mind. It was ... sort of freeing, in a weird way, to think that if he failed no one would be waiting in the wings sharing in his disappointment.
Or if he gave up before he had a chance to fail. He couldn't cut out on the first season at the Sanditon without burning his bridges with the Fudges, but maybe there were ways around that. Maybe the Fudges weren't that attached to the idea of a sailing instructor. Maybe they'd pieced together enough of his plans that he could just imply he'd tried and failed — that she or her father had said no — and they'd release him from his obligation out of sympathy. And if they didn't, if they never forgave him — if he picked a point far enough in the distance to chart his course to, it didn't really matter, did it?
This urge to run, for no other reason than because the wind would be behind him if he did, was new. New, or maybe newly recognized. Maybe it had always been here, and he'd only recently cleared out enough of his other feelings to make room for it and recognize it as what it was. It was similar to the frantic energy Jo had had when she had shown up in his flat for the last real time (because those hours in the blizzard hadn't been them). She'd never really asked him to go with her, but Alfred thought if the blizzard had never happened, and if she had shown up tomorrow in the same state... maybe she wouldn't have had to ask, and maybe his answer would have been different.
Alfred had been frowning at his drink half a second too long. He shook his head to clear it and raised the glass to his lips, knocking back a third of the stuff in one drink despite not liking it much. Maybe Zelda would think he was just worried about Dio. "Yeah, I hope so," he agreed with another frown.
Or if he gave up before he had a chance to fail. He couldn't cut out on the first season at the Sanditon without burning his bridges with the Fudges, but maybe there were ways around that. Maybe the Fudges weren't that attached to the idea of a sailing instructor. Maybe they'd pieced together enough of his plans that he could just imply he'd tried and failed — that she or her father had said no — and they'd release him from his obligation out of sympathy. And if they didn't, if they never forgave him — if he picked a point far enough in the distance to chart his course to, it didn't really matter, did it?
This urge to run, for no other reason than because the wind would be behind him if he did, was new. New, or maybe newly recognized. Maybe it had always been here, and he'd only recently cleared out enough of his other feelings to make room for it and recognize it as what it was. It was similar to the frantic energy Jo had had when she had shown up in his flat for the last real time (because those hours in the blizzard hadn't been them). She'd never really asked him to go with her, but Alfred thought if the blizzard had never happened, and if she had shown up tomorrow in the same state... maybe she wouldn't have had to ask, and maybe his answer would have been different.
Alfred had been frowning at his drink half a second too long. He shook his head to clear it and raised the glass to his lips, knocking back a third of the stuff in one drink despite not liking it much. Maybe Zelda would think he was just worried about Dio. "Yeah, I hope so," he agreed with another frown.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER