#title is a combo of lyrics from light on by maggie rogers and the folk song johnny has gone for a solider

[dxppercxdxver]

honest to god i nearly made myself weep with this one (it is! once again! that collaboration with @chiropteracupola)

light on (gone the rainbow, gone the dove)

The day Julien returned to France was much like any other.

Salt burned his lungs as he stood on the docks of Boston Harbor, sun struggling to find its way through the meager gaps in the cloud cover, and the snap of the canvas sails intermingled with the chatter of the crouds and the crashing waves into a pleasant drone. Julien clutched his bag tight, and watched a weather-beaten ship standing proud over the pier begin its long loading process.

“Enjoying the view?”

At first it was unclear that anyone was speaking to him in particular, but then Julien felt a gentle pinch at the fabric of his coat, and turned to see Judith Thornton standing beside him, unreadable expression on her face. The meager sunlight brought out thin veins of gold in her hair.

Julien sighed. “What are you doing here, cherie?”

“Well, when I woke up this morning, you were quite thoroughly disappeared from my home,” she replied, running her thumb over the embroidery on her sleeve hem, “and I wondered whereabouts you would have gone.” Grimacing, Judith at last turned to face him, cool blue eyes unyielding as steel. “It didn’t take long to find you.”

“Am I really that predictable?”

“You really are.”

Together, the two of them lapsed into a less than comfortable silence, watching the passersby with a calculated interestd. Well, Judith appeared to be watching the people; Julien was primarily watching her. He truly had not meant for her to know, had assumed it would have been easier to simply disappear. After all, she would be in far more trouble if he stayed, and he had duties elsewhere whose importance far superseded his affections for one woman and her as yet unborn son.

Of course, Judith had very quickly wedged her pretty satin shoe in the door of his plan, and here she was, glowering at the early morning sky. Curiously, her hand still found its way to Julien’s, and she clasped it gently, tapping his knuckles with gentle rhythm.

“Do you have to go?”

The question came completely expected, but Julien was still taken aback by the wave of shame that rose in his chest, battering his ribcage with a horrible insistence. There was no way he could reasonably be expected to stay, to raise a child with a woman whose husband had passed a man of honor, but still, a not insignificant part of him yearned to throw down his bags and carry Judith all the way back to her little shop on the square and fix her the breakfast she had clearly skipped to meet him here. Mystery would save her life, her reputation, but with the way she was looking at him, Julien knew he would never escape this woman cleanly. She had her hooks in him, and all he longed for was her tug on the wire.

“What would you have me do instead?” was all he had to say. Judith took a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezed his wrist.

“We never even gave him a name,” she murmured. Around them, the throngs were slowly funneling up the gangway, settling in for the journey ahead, and Julien’s pulse began to pound in his ears. There was so little time to choose, to explain everything he had never bothered to tell her, and now his ship out of Boston was getting ready to leave without him.

Whirling, Julien gripped Judith’s shoulders tightly, pristine fabric wrinkling under his gloved fingers.

“Promise me you will keep him safe,” he said insistently. “Raise him well.”

“What would you have me do instead?” Judith parroted, squirming under his grasp. “I am his mother, Julien, I cannot simply step away when the burden of a son is no longer convenient for me.” Her words rang like the peal of a bell, ricocheting throughout Julien’s body and echoing in perpetuity, and her fury was plain to all around.

“We both know this is for the best.”

“Have you considered I may not want the best anymore?” Chest heaving, Judith threw Julien’s arms off of her and stuck an accusatory finger to his chest. “I am sick of the best! My husband died, my sons have left me, and all I have left is you and this godforsaken shop!” She sniffed, swiping at her nose with a vicious fervor. “I have always had the best, but what if I want something for me?”

Julien stared. “My love, that will ruin you.”

“Do you think I am unaware?” Voice like ice, fire in her eyes, Judith pulled Julien into a vice-like embrace, mouth to his neck. “Stay with me, sweet. Please stay with me.”

With Judith’s heart hammering against his chest, breath ghosting over his neck, Julien wondered if he would ever find the strength to leave. He placed a feather-light hand against her back, looking out over the ocean, knowing how far they would drift, unsure how to leave, yet unable to remain.

“Je suis désolé,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Merci, ma petite chou-fleur.”

“What?”

But before Julien could lose himself in her face, lovely though streaked with tears, he snatched his bag off the docks and bolted toward the ship, every step of his boots against the wood a gunshot to his ears. Judith’s shrieking was almost lost to the noise of the crowd. And still, still, Julien refused to look back.

Only when they had lifted anchor and were well on their way did Julien face the pier, scanning for Judith in the crowd. He expected her to be furious, if she had even remained at all, but when he found her again, she bore nothing but a soft, mournful smile, waving a handkerchief he vaguely recognized as his own in the breeze.

Something awful was building in his stomach, clawing its way into his throat, longing to escape.

“Ma lune!” he found himself calling over the roar of the waves. “My father’s name was Jeremiah!”

Although it was highly unlikely Judith had heard him, she nodded nonetheless, and turned on her heel, disappearing into the sea of bodies cloaked in fine fabrics milling about, and grieving just the same.

“Promise me you will write!” Julien cried once more, but she was already gone, leaving him with nothing but the bitter sting of salt.