Archive of Our Own

Cara's watch was uneventful, and she woke Richard with a sense of profound disappointment. There'd been an itch in her limbs since the night before, a faint unease that she was fairly sure would go away if she could just hurt something, but alas, they'd met no bandits, banelings, rogue D'Harans, or even so much as a scraggly wandering thief since Kahlan's father had left their company around midday. So with a resigned shrug, Cara abandoned her hopes of violence and made her way to where her bedroll lay, a handspan from the slumbering Mother Confessor.

Who, as Cara realized when she settled to the ground, wasn't actually asleep.

"Oh. Cara," Kahlan said softly, hastily wiping her cheeks with one thumb and offering a thoroughly unconvincing smile.

"Kahlan," said Cara.

There was a moment of silence as she watched Kahlan's face carefully, considering. Finally, Cara asked, as mildly as she could, "Your father?"

The question tasted strange in Cara's mouth; it would be unlike Kahlan to cry over someone for whom she clearly held so much anger. But Kahlan had been entirely unlike herself around her father, skittish and subdued and far too grateful for Cara's presence, so further odd behavior wouldn't be a huge stretch.

But Kahlan shook her head, with a soft, simple, "No." Her watery smile turned fond as she said it, her eyes a little warmer, and Cara, who had had a very long day, didn't quite manage to suppress a tiny flicker of pride at picking the right response.

"No," Kahlan repeated, a little stronger. "I was just... thinking about my mom."

Ah. That, she thought she could make sense of. Still -- "You miss her," clarified Cara, just to be sure.

"I do," said Kahlan, pulling out yet another of her infinite arsenal of smiles, this one something along the lines of 'sad but calm'. "I wish... I know it's greedy, I know the chance to see her again, even for a moment, was already so much more than anyone could ask. But I wish I could have hugged her, one last time. Just have her hold me, again."

Cara couldn't think of a reply, but Kahlan must have read something in her face, because she explained, quietly, "When you're a Confessor, people don't get close to you, very much. A friend squeezing your hand in comfort, draping an arm around your shoulders, casually hugging you after a long absence... we learn to go without that kind of thing, when we're away from each other. I like to tell myself it's about respect, but honestly... it's not. It's people knowing what a Confessor's touch can do." Her eyes shuttered closed for a moment. "It's hard, sometimes. Lonely. Knowing everyone you meet is afraid of you."

"I'm not afraid of you," snorted Cara, rolling her eyes.

But Kahlan just said, "I know," her smile turning soft and pleased. "This morning, when I woke up from the poison, and my father was looming over me... I could feel you, your hand on my shoulder. It kept me from being... It kept me calm. Thank you for that," she added, low and sincere.

Cara shifted uncomfortably on her furs, but Kahlan's smile wasn't a strong as it should be, her eyes still faintly liquid, and so Cara tempered her skepticism as she said, "Someone touching you makes that much difference."

"Being held, by someone you trust, who cares about you? It's more powerful than any agiel," said Kahlan, and her voice was quiet but her conviction was bright as sunlight and firmer than iron, and Cara's objection died on her lips.

They lay there in silence for a while, watching each other, Cara trying to puzzle out Kahlan's expression and hating how clearly she was sure Kahlan could read her own -- the Confessor had developed a disturbing knack for knowing what Cara was thinking, and Cara didn't like to consider what that meant about herself as a Mord'Sith -- but it seemed they'd said all there was to say, and Cara could feel the heavy fingers of slumber brushing against her mind and eyes.

"If I fall asleep," she said, "are you going to lay here and think of your mother and keep crying?"

Kahlan laughed, and admitted, not sheepish in the least, "I might."

"... turn around," said Cara.

This smile was 'bemused,' if the upward twitch of Kahlan's eyebrows was any indication, but Kahlan didn't object or question, just rolled obediently until her back was to Cara.

Cara inched forward, keeping their bodies parallel, stopping just close enough to tuck her arm beneath Kahlan's, warm through two layers of leather where Cara's bicep brushed against her rib. Kahlan didn't speak or turn, but she leaned back a little until they lay flush, Kahlan's hips curled against the curve of Cara's and her shoulders just brushing Cara's collar, and Cara could swear she could feel the strength of Kahlan's smile beaming out into the night.

Cara didn't say anything either, as Kahlan adjusted her blanket to cover them both and then threaded her fingers through Cara's over her heart. But she took a moment to notice, curious, that the itch for violence had faded completely, leaving her muscles loose and relaxed, before she finally drifted off to sleep.