August 26th, 1892 - Hatchitt Home
@"Fallon Hatchitt"

Just how long, with no notice, was it acceptable to be late for dinner before either worry or annoyance set in. Jess really wanted to know, because as he'd been told for their entire relationship, Fallon could take care of herself, so he assumed she wasn't in any danger, so she was just what? At work? Seeing Miss Skovgaard? Both of which could be easily dismissed, you know, if Fallon bothered to tell him. She got so worked up about him wanting a "normal" marriage, when he had even conceded otherwise, but honestly, was she even trying?

They'd been tiptoeing around one another since her return in June and Jess hated the feeling of walking on eggshells in his own house. One he was used to occupying solo, mind. He wasn't sure which was worse, her being gone or this weird limbo they found themselves in. Something had to give. The problem was, Jess didn't know what exactly that meant for them.

He'd come to the realization in her absence, that he was mourning the loss of the marriage he'd wanted his entire life, what he'd given up to be with Fallon. He loved her, he truly did, but she always made it sound like she was the only one making sacrifices. The agreement to wait a few years to have children hadn't been easy, but he was willing to compromise. It was apparently just taking him longer to come to terms with it.

Of course it didn't help that she'd been gone for months on end, only to come back from a mission in which her partner no longer knew who he was, and now they felt like strangers sharing a space, and she couldn't be bothered to come home for dinner. After thirty minutes, he'd eaten, left her plate on the counter in the kitchen, and retired to his study to read. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

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The pure excitement Fallon felt towards her best friend's upcoming engagement came to a screeching halt after it became a reality. Seeing how joyful Malou was served only as a reminder for how miserable her own marriage had become. They hadn't yet been married a year and already Fallon felt as though they were tethering on the edge of ruin, of officially living separate lives and resigning themselves to a marriage with which neither were content.

It'd taken one look in Sterling's direction to let him know she needed to spar that night. How was she to go home to her husband who never talked to her anymore when Malou was now being handed this beautiful, happy life? How was she supposed to have faith in marriage when most nights she considered sleeping in the guest room just to put further space between her and her husband? Fallon had expressed this much too — well to Sterling anyway. Every dodge, hit and kick were met with rants of her frustration. Marriage wasn't supposed to be this hard.

By the time she'd floo'd home, Fallon was sporting new bruises along her arms, legs and torso (though nowhere near as bad as when she'd come home in June). The house was dark and quiet — just as it always was these days — but she could tell just from the tense air that Jess was home somewhere. Even if the rippling tension hadn't alerted her to his presence, the ice cold dinner abandoned on the counter would have.

Bloody hell. Dinner.

Fallon had forgotten they planned to have dinner.

She wandlessly lit the lamps as she went down the hall and stopped at the closed door of his study. He had to know she was home by now, the creaking floorboards had revealed her more clearly than any shouted greeting would have. Knocking twice, Fallon waited for his greeting before opening the door. "Hey. I'm sorry I missed dinner, Sterling needed my help with something." She greeted him lamely, standing awkwardly stiff in the doorway.

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Jess was halfway through his book and more than halfway through a generous pour of scotch when he heard the floorboards creaking. He should have been further along in the book, if he'd been able to concentrate, but the seething annoyance that was simmering just below the surface kept him from really making any headway. The drink was going down much smoother and he really only had one or two more sips before it would be gone and that was probably not great. If he was smart he'd have gone upstairs and into the guest room before she got home, but that hadn't happened. Too late.

He'd almost hoped she'd tiptoe by and skip this, but the knock at the door signaled another choice that had Jess sighing and rubbing his temples with his hands. He waited a beat before making some noise of response and she was giving him some halfhearted excuse. "Yeah, alright." He replied, taking the last sip of his scotch, setting the glass aside.

What else was he supposed to say? Clearly work was more important than dinner, even if they had agreed to make time tonight. What was he supposed to do if she wasn't willing to meet him halfway? It wasn't like he begged for dinner every night, just once or twice a week so they could sit down and at least try to talk, but there really didn't seem to be any point if she didn't care enough to come home. He had conceded to giving her a few years to continue this career, but even when she was around, it wasn't like she was present.

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Fallon continued to stand in the doorway as if there were some sort of barrier preventing her from taking a single step forward. He didn't invite her in, didn't even look in her direction when she knocked. She would be hard pressed to believe her presence was welcome here. Merlin, did he even want her to come home? Did he even want to be married? Fallon suddenly couldn't remember the last time she heard him express an opinion that contradicted hers.

They never should have slept together that night. She never should have spoken as she left. Jesse deserved to be happy — he deserved so much more than this.

She stood staring at him for a second longer before conceding a small step back into the hallway. "Could we try again tomorrow?" Fallon surprised herself by asking. It really would've been simpler to just walk away.

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Jess really didn't know what to expect, but he certainly hadn't expected her to volunteer to try again. The question was, would she come home this time? Did he want her to? Merlin's beard this shouldn't be this difficult. "Sure, if you want to." He found himself saying, but it lacked enthusiasm. Did she want to or was she just trying to placate him? He cast her a look, unsure what to find in her expression, watching her stand there awkwardly in the doorway.

"It will have to be later, I have a department meeting." Which was part of the reason they had chosen tonight. His schedule was predictable and yes, he had to stay late too sometimes, but he knew when and for how long and if it changed he sent word ahead. Not to mention he was head of his squad, he had more responsibility. Regardless, he was capable of saying no when the time called for it and simply went home. Work would always be there tomorrow. Unfortunately he thought that felt like a foreign concept to Fallon.

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"Of course I want to." Fallon replied with a hint of defensiveness. "Do you?" She genuinely hadn't meant to abandon their dinner plans (well, not consciously anyway) nor did she intend to neglect to inform him of the change of plans. Fallon had simply needed to get her frustration out before facing him and his silent judgements.

She couldn't take another three years of this. They hadn't even made it one.

Fallon nodded and folded her arms across her chest. Unlike him, she respected his work commitments and understood the importance of his career. Unlike him, she supported him and wanted him to succeed. After all, Fallon wasn't the one sitting at home with a glass of scotch and a book filling the house with furious tension over his career choices.

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The following long-suffering sigh was meant to be his attempt to keep himself from saying something stupid. Jess tried so hard to watch what he said to her, to keep his tongue in check, which often led to long silences as he couldn't come up with anything productive to say. This was one of those moments where the silence stretched on for a moment as he tried to think of some reply.

Did he want to? That really was the question.

He did, but the problem was that every time something like this happened, he wanted to less and less. Jess really wasn't sure they were going to make it another three years. "Yes." He said finally, unable to come up with anything else to add. He wouldn't last much longer though.

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It was the long stretch of silence that ultimately shoved Fallon over the edge. He couldn't even answer a simple question of wanting to have dinner with her without having to deeply consider it, like she had asked about some dreaded chore and not just spending time together. And yes, Fallon knew herself to be equally at fault for having missed dinner (and countless others before it) but hell! At least she had a halfway decent poker face.

"What are we doing here, Jesse?" Fallon muttered, her frustration now just as obvious as his own. "Do you even want me here anymore?"

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"I don't know what it's like to have you here anymore, so I have no idea what we're doing." He countered, forgetting to think before he spoke. It was hard to keep his words calculated with the flurry of emotions that were simmering in his chest at the moment. All they were doing was tiptoeing around one another and trying to avoid a fight, but yet again, here they were.

He looked at her more purposefully now, noticed the ruffled look to her hair and the obvious signs she'd been physically active this evening. Clearly she thought he wouldn't connect the dots between this weird need to beat people up and whatever it was Sterling "needed help with." All of which was more important than dinner together and their marriage that was hanging on by a thread. "Do you want to be here anymore?" He asked after a moment. He wanted her here, he thought he'd made that pretty clear, but if she didn't want to be here, what was he supposed to do about it?

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"I'm here in the same bloody capacity I was before the mission. You changed, Jesse! You're so miserable all the time that it's a miracle we haven't yet spotted a dementor following you." He'd become someone entirely foreign to her, someone wrapped so intensely in resentment and depression that she now wondered if they'd ever been happy. Had she dreamt of Ireland or the picnics set up in her old flat? Did she imagine conjuring the woods and stars for his birthday in the hospital? Was it all some fantasy that they'd somehow freed themselves of along the way?

She leaned heavily against the wall in the hallway. It was ridiculous to be having this argument in two entirely separate rooms, but he hadn't invited her into his office and she wasn't about to cross that boundary. "I can't stand being here like this anymore, no." Something had to change, someone had to cave.

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It took all of his willpower not to growl at her. There it was though. If was, of course all his fault. It always was. He'd changed, he didn't support her career, he hadn't made any sacrifices, all the same bullshit. "Please forgive me if the reality of this marriage, one that is the polar opposite of what I had envisioned for myself my entire life, is a little much for me and I haven't adjusted well." He stood now, too much pent up energy to just sit there.

"And I know you're going to tell me I signed up for this but forgive me if your job still scares the absolute shit out of me; that the possibility of what happened to Cartwright— or worse, happening to you keeps me up at night; gives me nightmares. I watch what this kind of marriage does to my sister-in-law, has done to her for years. It wears on a person. It's hard to watch the person you love more than anything else constantly put themselves in danger, to put sparring with a colleague before dinner with your spouse." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's miserable and I'm sorry I suck at hiding it."

Jess blew out a breath, the rant lightening a tightness in his chest he'd been holding onto. Jess didn't exactly like the person he'd become either but he didn't know what the fuck to do about it anymore than she did.

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"You don't think I'm scared?!" Fallon shouted back, throwing her hands up as she did. Months of suppressing that fateful day, of ignoring just how closely Cartwright's injury had been her own, had left Fallon feeling less secure as an auror than ever. It was why she spent so many hours sparring and dueling, for if she was at the top of her game the odds of it happening to her were that much less. Fallon had scoured the campsite before summoning help, aside from Cartwright being gone she could find no signs of anything being amiss. It was as though he had just disappeared, which meant he couldn't have done anything out of the ordinary to attract attention.

He was just unlucky.

"You don't think I've been struggling with it? That I'm not terrified now every time I'm given field work? Two hours, Jess, that's all that separated them from taking him instead of me. Two bloody hours!" It might have even been less time than that, but Fallon had had to estimate the situation to the best of her ability. That day was a nightmare she'd never quite escape.

Angry, fearful tears spilled down her cheeks as she bit back another slew of angry responses. "You knew exactly who and what I was when you proposed — you knew the sort of life your sister-in-law lives. I was fine being a spinster and never inflicting this on anyone else, but ... you proposed." Her voice broke, her anger fading momentarily to give face to her own grief.

The pause in her anger didn't last long though, and she was soon back to ranting at him, "You wanted me, I'm sorry if I'm failing to live up to your expectations of what marriage would look like. I'm sorry that sparring with Sterling is the only way of surviving I have right now, it isn't as though I can come home and talk to you now, is it?" That was the cusp of the matter too, wasn't it? Somewhere along the way they'd stopped talking to one another, had ceased relying upon the other as a spouse might. It was as though they had boiled themselves down to being two ships passing in the night.

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Jess nearly rolled his eyes, instead letting the frustration roll around his thoughts, tumbling them all together as she continued. If she was terrified maybe she should just, give it up. Why would you continue to do a job that terrified you? He would never understand her obsession with his job. Never.

"How could I forget? You never let me." He was reminded every fucking day that she chose her career over him, even if she had married him. Cleary their vows didn't mean much. "We made a deal, yes. And I am trying like hell to uphold my end, but it feels like you're not even trying to see my side. I know this isn't what you wanted out of life and I am trying to let go of it, but you're not even close to meeting me a third, let alone half of the way." It was impossible to try and support her when she wasn't home or honest with him. How was he supposed to know she was scared? She didn't share anything with him, they never talked like they used to, even when they were sending letters it wasn't the same. They hadn't even been married a year.

"I knew this marriage wasn't going to look like my parents' but I didn't think it would look like this. You chose to accept my proposal. I'm not the only one to blame here. We came to an agreement I thought we both could live with. Just because I let you choose your career over me doesn't mean I have to like it and it doesn't mean you get a free pass when you make that choice again and again. It would be nice if you even considered choosing me once in a while." Merlin, what else could he do?

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"A free pass? When have you ever given me one of those?" Fallon scoffed. Every conversation about her career was met with more resentment. It was the wall that separated them — much as his study door presently did. Every missed dinner, stilted conversation, and reminded of his lack of children was another stone laid between them. No, Jesse didn't have to like her decisions, but he had to bloody tolerate them. He still had to support her as a husband might.

Fallon was tempted now to walk away — to go and ask Kieran if she might stay with him awhile. Any other time she might've gone to Malou, but Fallon knew better than to burden her best friend with this. Not when marriage was such a delightful prospect to the healer. A real fucking delight.

"I can't meet you halfway when you won't fucking talk to me." She pointed out bitterly.

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"Oh bullshit," Did she even hear what he was saying? Did she realize how rigid she was being? How hypocritical? He couldn't do all of the legwork here. "That goes both ways. You don't even give me the opportunity— not to mention I'm so fucking tired of watching what I say, all the damn time, trying not to upset you." Jess really didn't know what else to do. There had been optimism at the beginning, a determination to try and make this work, to defy the odds, but he didn't know if he could anymore. With every mission, with every late night, every missed dinner, every nightmare, his resolve crumbled. His hope that they could do this was waning and eventually it would be gone.

She wanted him to talk to her, but not about what was bothering him because that had to do with his distaste for her job. Which wouldn't be so bad if she would just fucking come home for dinner. They didn't seem to enjoy the same things anymore, what were the supposed to talk about?  Even when she was home, it wasn't like it used to be. "I don't know how to talk to you anymore, you don't hear me, you didn't even acknowledge half of what I just said!" He countered, unable to hold back.

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"Then don't! I never fucking asked you to censor yourself. Upset me! Let's argue, at least then we would have a better understanding of one another." Fallon would have rather had a thousand arguments than the months of eggshells they'd just endured. Anything had to be better than this.

Separating would even be better than this, she realized with an abrupt sigh.

She paused then, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. Yes, Fallon hadn't addressed every point he made, but neither did he. Neither of them were putting in the work anymore, neither of them appeared to even want to. Swiping at her eyes, Fallon looked down the hall towards where the floo was waiting. She should leave, they should look into alternate means of living.

"I hear you plenty, Jesse." Fallon sighed. "You wanted someone different — someone more willing to conform to the image of marriage you had dreamt of your whole life. You want children and a wife to greet you at the door every day. A dog, too, probably." He wanted this perfect, idyllic life. Something Fallon knew she'd never be able to fully provide. "A wife who goes on suicide missions for work and forgets about dinner plans was never in your dreams. So please, for once without weighing your words, answer me this: why did we even get married?"

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