Sage hummed softly as Jora kept talking, letting her tilt his head towards her again, nodding along. He knew she wasn't doing this to try and hurt him....to rip open scars as she'd put it. He offered her a small smile when she admitted she was scared, though it was a small one. "You're the only reason I haven't gotten lost in them so far," he murmured softly. "You and Lyra," he added, glancing over towards the room the baby was currently sleeping in.

Her comment about him being too stubborn did pull a chuckle from his lips. He supposed that was true. Even when he wanted to give up on himself, he was too stubborn to give up on Jora and Lyra. He'd never do that. He couldn't, no matter how bad things got. He knew he'd have bad days ....he already admitted, and they seemed like they'd never go away. But his family was there, and that was all that mattered. He'd have them forever.

"I'm not planning on needing you to do that," he chuckled when she mentioned dragging him out of the ocean. "I won't loose myself. Not when I have so much to fight for." He might question himself....to lose part of it. But not entirely.

Jora’s eyes softened as she watched him glance toward the baby’s room, her chest tightening in that way it always did when he said things like that. Not the dramatic kind of tightening—but the aching, breathless kind that came with loving someone so completely it scared her. She brushed her fingers through his hair again, slower this time, like she was memorizing every strand.

“You’ve got more than just stubbornness in you,” she murmured, voice low but steady. “You’ve got fire, Sage. And heart. And more strength than you ever give yourself credit for.” She paused, letting the silence stretch between them as she looked him over—really looked at him. “You say we’re your reason. But you’re ours too, you know?”

Her hand stilled where it rested over his chest, fingers spread lightly across the steady beat of his heart. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to never fall. But if you ever do again—and you find yourself thinking about crawling back into the bottle like it’s the only safe place left—I need you to remember what that did to you.” Her voice didn’t shake, but it deepened—took on that sharp edge she used only when it mattered most. “I need you to remember what it almost cost you. What it almost cost us.”

Her jaw flexed slightly, tension winding through her spine, though she didn’t pull away. “I meant what I said. I’ll be here. I’ll fight with you. Through every bad day. Through every rough night. But if you ever drink yourself senseless again—if you start using it to run away instead of reaching for help—I won’t just drag you out of the ocean.” Her gaze met his fully, unwavering and fierce. “I’ll dump you myself.”

She didn’t say it to be cruel. It wasn’t said in spite. It was said because she loved him. Because she'd watched him lose himself once and claw his way back, and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen again. Not while she still had breath in her lungs to stop it.

Her fingers curled tighter into his shirt again, and when she spoke next, it was quieter. More vulnerable.

“I don’t want to threaten you. I just... I need to know you’ll choose us when it gets hard. Not the bottle. Not the past. Us.” She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m all in, Sage. But I need to know you are too.”

Sage met joras gaze as she spoke, taking in her words and humming softly before responding. It was a heavy conversation, he knew that...but it was an important one all the same. They hadn't really talked about it before, but he supposed it did need to happen sooner or later. It wasn't something that could just be avoided and never talked about. He shifted slightly, guilty crawling back into his chest. He'd hurt her...he knew that. And he was sorry for it. If he'd known she'd survived his response would have been much different. But what was done was done now, and they just had to move forward.

"I know," he noted softly, moving to clasp his fingers around her hand that was clenched onto his shirt like she was scared he'd just...drift away. Evaporate into the wind without a second thought or a goodbye. "If you do dump me out there I would blame you," he added softly. "But...for you and Lyra, for us...I'll keep that fire burning as long as hard as I have to," he promised. "No matter what." He wouldn't give up on them. Not when there was so much here that he'd finally found. They had something now, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen or experienced. He wasn't willing to let that go. Not now, not ever.

He'd closed his eyes, leaning against her forehead gently. She was right, saying what she's said. If he couldn't manage to stay out of the bottle, he'd want her to keep him away from Lyra too. He didn't want to turn out like the adults who'd hurt him as a kid. Although he supposed, in some ways, he already had. He'd stopped just as quickly but ....it still haunted him, every step he took, every time he filled his lungs with air and then breathed it out again. But Jora was fighting for him, so he'd fight alongside her, even if his motivation was more for them than himself.

Jora's breath hitched a little, not from surprise, but from the weight of his words. The way he spoke so softly—meant what he said—it dug beneath her ribs and wrapped around something tender. She didn’t speak right away, just let the silence settle between them like a blanket, warm and real and still heavy with everything unsaid. She watched his fingers lace through hers, watched his eyes close, his forehead pressed to hers like some quiet vow.

She squeezed his hand in return.

“I wouldn’t want to dump you,” she said, her voice low and thick. “But I would. Because I love you too much to watch you drown like that again. Because Lyra needs a father who fights even when it’s ugly, even when it hurts.”

Her other hand moved up to rest at the back of his neck, grounding him there against her. “And I know you don’t want to become what they were. But you’re not. You never will be, Sage.” Her voice didn’t waver. “Because they didn’t care who they hurt. You care too much. It tears you up, and yeah... maybe you don’t always know what to do with that pain. But you don’t turn it outward. You don’t make other people bleed for it.”

She leaned into him then, lips brushing his temple, the gesture soft and solemn. “You do have that fire,” she repeated quietly. “But you’ve got to burn for yourself, too. Not just for us.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, her thumb brushing over the edge of his cheek. “You deserve to be whole. Not just functioning. Not just surviving for our sake. You deserve that. And I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it for yourself.”

Her gaze searched his, unflinching, the weight of her loyalty and love clear in the silence that followed. “We’re not going anywhere, Sage. But you’ve gotta keep showing up. Not perfect. Just... present.”

Then, softer, “That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

Sage just rested against Jora as she spoke, taking in her words. He knew he should believe what she was saying, that he deserved more than to drown himself again. But he couldn't. Not yet. Maybe he'd get there one day....and he knew she'd never stop telling those things to him, so maybe he'd eventually believe it. He wanted to. He just didn't know when that would happen.

He nodded though, offering her a soft smile. "I know," he noted. "I'm not going to let you down," he promised. "Not ever." He wasn't going to go back on that promise either. If fighting for them meant fighting for himself, then so be it.

(Sorry, it's short but my phone's going to die in about two seconds lol)

Jora watched him closely, her expression softening as he spoke. She knew it wasn’t a switch he could flip—believing he was worthy of more, worthy of healing. That would come slowly, maybe in pieces. But hearing him say he wouldn’t let her down… hearing him try? That meant everything.

Her fingers tightened slightly in his, anchoring them both.

“Good,” she murmured, voice warm but tired. “Because if you did, I’d have to track you down across the entire ocean, drag you back by your boots, and make you clean fish guts until your fingers blister.”

She raised an eyebrow, daring him to laugh, her tone finally dipping into something lighter, teasing. She let the silence breathe for a few moments, then gave a small sigh and leaned back just enough to look around the room. “Alright,” she said, nudging his leg with hers, “if we sit here any longer we’re going to mold into the furniture. And I refuse to become part of this couch. It’s got too many mystery stains.”

She wrinkled her nose a bit for emphasis, then looked down at him again with a slight smirk. “Help me up, sea slug. If we don’t stretch our legs now, we’ll both fall asleep and wake up with bad backs and even worse attitudes.”

She didn’t mention the baby—if Lyra cried, they’d both hear her. But for now, a walk around the house, maybe to check the garden or hang the laundry, would give them a moment of lightness. Something simple. Something that didn’t involve deep wounds and long shadows.

Sage couldn't help but chuckle in response to her comment, her tease lifting his lips to curl upwards into a soft smile. That was one thing Jora was good at...pulling him out of the dark and shadows and giving him some light. Something to smile at, or laugh with her about something. "That would be a lot of fish guts," he noted with amusement. He'd lived his life on the ocean so seafood was pretty common by then. Take that and caring for a while ship of pirates....well, he'd cleaned his fair share of fish.

But he groaned when she said they had to get up, and flopped over onto her lap. "Why," he sort of huffed, but allowed her to shove him up and half off the couch. He hauled himself to his feet though, reaching for her hands and helping her to her feet with a sort of grunt. "I dunno, I think those mystery spots give it character," he mused lightly, eyeing the couch.

For now, though, wherever Jora went, he'd follow. He had missed her....and had honestly been pretty well attached to her hip since then. He'd gone and done some small jobs around the house, of course, but aside from that he really hadn't left her side, and he didn't plan to. Things needed to happen ...like the dock....but she'd wanted him to rest and heal for a few days, so he was doing that.

Jora let out a sharp exhale of laughter when Sage flopped dramatically into her lap, grumbling like a child told to get out of bed. She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, carding her fingers through his hair with lazy affection before promptly giving him a light shove. “You’re lucky I don’t toss you right back onto the floor,” she muttered, half-hearted in her threat.

When he finally stood and offered his hands, she took them without hesitation, letting him help her up with a quiet grunt of effort. Her knees cracked. “Ugh. I swear I wasn’t this creaky before the baby,” she said, brushing her hands off on her pants before glancing down at the couch. At his comment, her nose scrunched up again.

“Character my ass,” she scoffed, then jabbed a thumb over her shoulder toward the back door. “C’mon, character-boy. Let’s check on the clothesline before some gull tries to steal my underwear again.”

She started toward the back of the house but didn’t walk too fast, slowing just a bit so he could naturally fall into step beside her. Even now, she wasn’t really used to letting herself enjoy this—quiet, domestic peace. A calm house. A safe place. But Sage was here, and Lyra was napping, and the breeze outside was warm. That was more than she ever thought she’d get.

After a moment, she glanced at him sideways and added dryly, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve been following me around like a lovesick barnacle. I’m onto you.”

Her tone was teasing, light, but the warmth in her voice was genuine. It was nice having him close. Even if she'd never say it outright.

Sage snickered softly in response to her comments, sort of just wandering after her as she mentioned the possible gull attack. "Well if I were a gull I'd go for your undies too," he mused, eyes crinkling with amusement. He figured it was pretty clear that he was joking around, though he supposed it held some truth to it. Though, he could admit if he was looking at undies he'd rather them come off, but he'd keep his mouth shut about that for now. That wasn't really the mood they were in. It was lighter than that.

He sort of wrinkled his nose when she teased him, though he moved to loop his arm around hers as he wandered along next to her. "Don't look so disappointed," he teased with a light chuckle, nudging her gently with his hip. It was a fairly accurate description, he figured...the whole lovesick barnacle thing....though he'd never admit that. And she probably knew it. He could joke though, especially since he knew she'd never be disappointed or upset he was wanting to spend time with her.

Jora let out a dry snort, shooting him a sideways glance that was half amused, half exasperated. “You would say that,” she muttered, giving his arm a small, swatting smack with the back of her hand. “Gull or not, you touch my undies and you lose a hand.”

Her threat didn’t carry much heat, not with the smile tugging at the corners of her lips and the way her fingers casually adjusted the fold of his sleeve as they walked. She didn’t mind the teasing, not really. Not when it was light like this—easy, simple. A hell of a lot better than the last few months had been.

When he hooked his arm around hers and nudged her, she stumbled a bit, laughing under her breath as she bumped her shoulder back against him. “Don’t tempt me to be disappointed,” she said, narrowing her eyes with mock threat. “I likemy space, y’know. You keep clinging to me like this and I might start charging you rent.”

But her voice betrayed her. It was warm and soft around the edges, laced with the kind of affection that came from years of knowing someone, loving someone, through hell and back. She leaned into his side just a little as they stepped out into the sun-warmed grass of the backyard.

Jora paused at the line, inspecting a pair of small trousers that had half-slipped off the clothespin. “Huh,” she muttered, pinning it back in place before glancing at Sage again. “You gonna follow me around when I go fix that busted floorboard too, or are you gonna miraculously remember you hate manual labor when it involves splinters?” she asked, one brow raised, smirk tugging at her mouth.

She already knew the answer. But teasing him was half the fun.