Cherry Blossom Snow

Moving On

In a special news report, the Tower of London loomed ominously behind Lubin in the pale light of dawn. "As we usher in this new era of stability and order," Lubin announced, "we must also confront the harsh realities of those who seek to disrupt the peace we strive to maintain. In the pursuit of justice and the preservation of peace, we are compelled to mete out punishment to those who dare to defy our laws."

With a solemn nod, Lubin signaled to his attendants to proceed. Two stoic soldiers approached, holding aloft Caoimhe's lifeless body. "As a symbol of justice and deterrence," Lubin continued, "my father's killer has been unceremoniously executed, granted an audience now only in death."

One soldier lowered Caoimhe's lifeless body to the ground, while the other drew forth a gleaming sword, its blade catching the early morning light with a glint of cold steel. With a swift and decisive motion, the soldier brought the blade down, severing Caoimhe's head from her body. The second soldier took the severed head, and with measured steps, he approached a waiting pike, its tip sharpened to a deadly point. With practiced precision, he impaled the head upon the spike, raising it high for all to see.

Lubin continued his speech, but Mia didn't hear any of it. She collapsed, struggling to breathe. She couldn't stop crying. She didn't want to believe it. Throughout the whole ordeal, Mia was worried for Caoimhe, but at no point did she truly accept as a possibility that they wouldn't rescue her. As Mia trembled, Dalziel picked her up and hugged her.

"She wouldn't have wanted you to be like this," Dalziel softly reminded her, his voice filled with compassion as he cradled Mia in his arms. "She knew what she was getting into. She knew she was putting her life on the line, and she accepted the risk. This was always a possibility. We all knew it. Come on. I'll bring you home."

Mia clung to Dalziel, her tears dampening his shoulder. With great care, he lifted her from the floor and held her close as he carried her to her home. The journey felt like an eternity, each step weighed down by the burden of grief. When they reached her front door, he found it locked, and he knocked with a sense of urgency, waiting for an answer.

Evangeline, disheveled and still in her pajamas, answered the door with sleepy confusion. Her eyes were heavy with drowsiness, and she was actively struggling to keep herself from falling over. "My parents are intoxicated at the moment. What do you want?" She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Then, she looked up and saw Mia in Dalziel's arms. "Oh, hi."

Dalziel gently set Mia down, her grief-stricken expression still etched upon her face. "I brought Mia home," he explained softly. "She's very sad. If you could help her, 'twould be appreciated. Unfortunately, I must be going. There is business to attend to."

Evangeline's eyes filled with concern. "What happened?"

"You remember Caoimhe?" Dalziel asked, his gaze steady.

"Remember Caoimhe. Of course," Evangeline replied. "Mia thinks of her like a mother."

Dalziel's response was simple and direct. "She died."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Dalziel replied simply, his own emotions concealed beneath a stoic exterior. "Well, bye." With a quiet nod, he prepared to take his leave, while Mia hugged Evangeline and wept.

Evangeline understood that sometimes just giving people some space and time to themselves could be helpful, and initially tried to focus on her own recovery, but by the end of the week, when she was feeling at least somewhat functional again, Mia still seemed unchanged, sitting and staring at the ceiling.

"You're not speaking, or smiling, or laughing, or even crying," Evangeline voiced her worries, her words filled with genuine care. "That's not good. Talk to me."