Reagan and Caius
“You have every right to be upset,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Worth it or not, it’s like being struck blind, and who wouldn’t be upset about that? No one expects you to buck up and get over it but you, and you should stop that. You deserve more compassion.” Caius kissed her cheek and moved to steer them toward where he’d parked the car. Fuck the valet tonight. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll be home soon.”
Did she deserve compassion? Maybe. But she was fairly certain someone like her mother would have never given up her magic for love. And if they couldn't fathom that kind of sacrifice, could they feel compassion for someone who did? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she was thinking too much instead of just letting her brain shut down completely for a while. "I wish I had your Obscurities," she told him as he led her to the car. "Then I could just let them take me into the woods to lose myself the way you did. Of course now they would probably just kill me." She certainly wouldn't have the power to hold them in place the way Caius did, if that was even how it worked. The Obscurities made her think of the tunnel, and what was inside, but she left that alone for the moment, her mind too busy trying to piece things together, even if she wasn't sure what that might be.
Reagan was right that she wasn’t equipped to handle the Obscurities anymore, if she ever had been in the first place. Not that he doubted her strength, it was just a kind of magic that he didn’t think Reagan had ever really delved into. It had taken him a lot of dark work to get there and keep them under control. But he understood her desire for escape. It made him want to whisk her away somewhere else all over again, but constant vacations wouldn’t fix anything. “It wasn’t that fun of a time, believe me,” he murmured, not having anything more useful to say. He wished he could help her more, give her that sort of mindless release, but it seemed all he could do was get her drunk and let her vent.
Reagan didn't really expect Caius to know what to say. This was new territory for them both, something that had been unfathomable before it actually happened. At least with Caius missing his memories, Reagan had been able to talk to him about their life together and answer his questions. Caius didn't have any answers for her. She fell silent until they were in the car and she began to warm up even more, keeping her coat wrapped tightly around her. Reagan stared out the window. It was dark but she could still see some snowfall. It probably wouldn't stop until Point Pleasant was completely buried. "What about that thing in the tunnel," Reagan murmured, only really half aware of what she was saying anymore. "I bet it could fix me."
Caius didn’t try to fight the silence -- it wasn’t something he’d ever shied away from, better silence than awkward words that helped nothing. His brain was tired and had its own share of alcohol running through it, but it still insisted on stumbling around the same circles it had already been running in, trying to think of answers. Just because he’d enlisted his father’s help didn’t mean he’d stopped trying to solve it on his own. The options were just so limited. Caius glanced over at Reagan when she spoke again, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “We agreed that wasn’t an option, remember?” he said quietly back. “It wouldn’t do anything for us for free, and things like that don’t accept checks.”
"No you're right," Reagan said before she closed her eyes. "It's a bad idea." And not one she would probably consider fully sober. It was just a thought fueled by wine and being around so many witches tonight, her husband included. She couldn't think of anything more to say, and frankly, didn't want to talk anymore. Getting home and either drinking some more with Caius or just crawling into bed both sounded like wonderful ideas. As long as she didn't have to talk about it anymore. That's all she wanted.