Way Down I'll Go

That Swells with Silence in the Soul

"See? Who needs Intelligentsia?" Rachel declared as she slowly poured steaming water over freshly ground coffee in a circular motion.

The smell of pour-over coffee was the finishing touch of cozy in the ambience of Rachel's flat. Jo found it hard to keep his eyes open when all he wanted to do was sink into the inconceivable comfort of the wing-back chair and let the boys' chattering lull him to sleep. Though he'd been awake for roughly 26 hours working a double shift, he shook his head and commanded his eyes to refocus on the baby he was feeding. He had brought the boys here for Sunday brunch, not for Rachel to babysit.

"Jo, you look like you could use some of this," Rachel called to him from the kitchen, where she embodied the very picture of health and goodness. Her blonde mane was piled on top of her head in an organized mess and her makeup-less cheeks were pink from sleep. Walking over with a steaming mug of coffee, she bent over him and place a gentle kiss on his unwashed hair. Jo flinched, both from habit and from the thought of her being near him in his unkempt state. Thankfully, Rachel seemed to be used to his skittishness when it came to touch. Smiling, she perched on the arm of the chair and traded the coffee in her hand for the bottle in his.

"What do you think?" she asked expectantly.

Jo sipped the roasted liquid. "Just what I needed."

"How late did you work last night?"

Jo tried not to tell her when he worked doubles. She already worried too much. In truth, paying for the repairs to the apartment had been far more costly than he had anticipated, and he was still trying to catch up. His landlord had been more than lenient, but Jo knew there was an extent to Daryl's grace, and he didn't want to exceed it.

"A little later than normal," he mumbled vaguely, hoping she wouldn't press.

Which was completely futile.

"Meaning you just got off, right?"

Jo sipped his coffee. Rachel sighed and ran her hand through his hair.

"Go get some sleep, sweetie. You can crash in my room if you want."

As much as he wanted to argue, Jo knew he would be useless if he didn't get at least a few hours. Handing the squirming child in his arms into her capable ones, he brushed some hair from her face, allowing his scraped knuckles to graze her roseate cheek in an unspoken thank-you.

No sooner had he settled on the fluffy white rug at the foot of the giant bed than the door opened wide enough for Rachel's head to peek through.

"I had a feeling..." she muttered with a measure of incredulity. "Beds are meant for sleeping. Not floors."

She pulled back the covers of her neatly made bed, to Jo's horror, and fluffed the pillow.

"Rachel, I'm filthy."

"Then go take a quick shower, if you want. Or don't. It doesn't matter to me." 

She gently pushed him toward the bed until he found himself sitting on it. She took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. 

"My sweet, strange Jo..." she murmured against his skin.

Jo's eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of her: clean, delicate, soothing. As he breathed her in, he began to feel heavy. He was vaguely aware of his head being guided to the pillow and then was aware of nothing.

_______

He awoke to tight lungs and muffled sound, as if he was underwater.

Water.