Late June, 2019

[andhiswife]

Greta's second worry is that something awful has happened to Elsa -- or perhaps Jessica -- but a few hurried texts are enough to put that fear to bed. Whatever this is, it's Darrow's doing, which means it probably won't last more than a few days. A week, at most.

Her first worry is for Regan and Saoirse, who are alone at the cottage (aside from the dogs, of course). There's no reason they should be unsafe there, especially since they're so much closer to town -- and therefore any potential rescue -- than Greta is here at the Gardens. But she hates being apart from Saoirse, in particular, while there's some sort of Darrow nonsense afoot. Even if it only takes the form of weather so poor that she, the children, and the staff who happened to be working when the skies opened are all thoroughly stuck.

She supposes there are worse things. The children are clearly relieved to have her here, and if she'd been snowed in away from the Gardens, she would have spent the whole time fretting over them and feeling awful that she wasn't here.

But the few days of ridiculousness that she was anticipating stretch into a full week, and then beyond. She's received some increasingly restive texts from Regan that she's done her best to mitigate. They'll be safe enough at the cottage, and the snow in the countryside has drifted so deep that frequent shoveling is the only reason they can open the front door at all. Going much beyond the stoop is a fool's errand.

Still, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't considering it. It's only a combination of pride and her lingering unease with being directly bespelled that's kept her from calling Magnus and asking if he might magically fetch her, somehow.

The absolute last thing she's expecting, then, is a knock at the door. More of a frantic pounding, actually, and she hurries over to pull it open. Who on earth would be out in all this?

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[andhiswife]

She can feel Regan stiffen, and it probably shouldn't surprise her. There are plenty of ways to shout at someone, and she's done several of them over the past minute or so. It was too presumptuous of her to go for a hug, and she withdraws her arm, curling it around herself, instead.

Her own cheeks are wet. How long has she been crying? Greta wearily swipes at the tears with the heel of her hand, unable to stop them despite her acute awareness of what a miserable sight they both make. If any of the resident children stumble across her like this, they'll be horrified, and then she'll have that mess to clean up, too.

She lets out a low, frustrated groan -- an indulgence she wouldn't allow herself in other company -- and picks up her phone again. But after typing a few letters, she lets it drop back into her lap. It doesn't seem right to communicate this in the manner most convenient for her.

Her fingers curl absently as she dredges her ASL vocabulary back up from the depths, and then she signs, a little stiffly, "I shouldn't have said that." She looks at Regan, still shivering and miserable, and so desperately underdressed that really, it's a miracle she made it here in one piece. It would have been so easy to get turned around, with the usual landmarks buried under drifts. It would have been so easy to get lost in the dark, or stuck, and to freeze to death.

Greta could have lost both of them, and she wouldn't even have known.

Part of her is still angry, but her eyes fill with fresh tears as she adds, with all sincerity, "I'm glad you're okay."

[negative_feedback]

Regan watches her, focusing more, because as soon as Greta's arm is gone, she wants it back. The way Greta picks her phone up, but doesn't write her a message. The way she wakes up her fingers, like she's the one that's been out in the cold.

"It's fine," she answers, sort of absently. It's not. Nothing's fine. But she doesn't know what else to say. She doesn't know how to do this. Her parents never said anything like this to her, after Beau.

They never really said anything. Nothing important, anyway. She reaches up to rub the tears from her face. They're cold against her palms, which must mean her fingers are warm, but they don't feel warm. Everything feels cold, still.

"I'll find her," she says, turning towards her a little. "I'll fix it. I'll find her and bring her back."

She doesn't know how, but she has to do this. She has to.

[andhiswife]

It's such an absurd attempt at reassurance that Greta almost laughs. "No," she replies, though there's no longer any recrimination behind it. It's just a statement of fact: none of this is 'fine.' Not their ill-advised attempt to visit, or Saoirse's resultant capture, or her own reaction. It's all terrible.

And so is Regan's insistence that she's going to fix this, somehow -- a different sort of terrible, but still. Greta shakes her head, sitting up a bit straighter. "You can't." That's not exactly what she means, but her signing is still rather basic. This is less about Regan's capabilities, which are hard to even judge given that neither of them know what they're up against, and more about the fact that Greta just won't have it. Regan could have died on the ostensibly straightforward walk from the cottage to the Gardens; she's not up for a bloody search and rescue mission. Neither is Greta, on her own, but she at least knows who she might ask for help.

She gives in and picks up her phone again. You're not going back out there. I need you here, to help with the children.

[negative_feedback]

You can't. It's another slap, and Regan looks down and away. She tries not to get upset again, but it's hard not to be. It's something her dad would say. She can't. She's too young, or too deaf. It stings all over again.

Then Greta shows her the phone, and she takes a breath. She's needed here. That's. Different. She's not sure how Greta can trust her after losing Saoirse like this, but she can't let her down now. Not again.

[andhiswife]

Regan doesn't respond -- not with words, anyway. But Greta's paying attention, and she sees the way the girl almost flinches at first. It goes beyond mere disappointment or frustration, but Greta thinks she understands. Goodness knows she hadn't tolerated being left behind when there was a Curse to break. Granted, that was different: she knew what dangers the Woods might hold (or thought she did), and her husband was no more qualified for the task at hand than she was.

He'd needed her help. What she needs from Regan isn't 'help' as much as it is some bloody piece of mind.

Her first phone message seems to mollify the girl a little, but Greta types out another one, just to make things clear.

I need to know at least one of you is safe. I can't lose you both.

Typing that last bit makes her eyes fill again, but she blinks the tears back as she shows Regan the screen.

[negative_feedback]

Regan's chin trembles as she reads the message. "I can help," she insists. "I'll do anything you want." She doesn't want Greta angry with her anymore. They need to find Saoirse, and they need to take care of the children.

[andhiswife]

The obedient promise just makes her feel worse, as if she's terrified the poor lass into acquiescence. Greta shakes her head, more at herself than Regan. She shouldn't have lost her temper.

"I know you can. It's okay," she signs, before cautiously resting her hand on Regan's back. Wary, once again, of overstepping.

[negative_feedback]

This time, Regan leans into the contact. Then she turns and wraps her arms around Greta's middle, hiding her face in Greta's chest. She just... needs to feel this. For a moment, it'd felt like she never would again.

[andhiswife]

It's an awful sort of relief when Regan clings to her, enough that her breath hitches with it. Given the circumstances, she isn't sure that she deserves it, or that it does anything but shine a spotlight on her own harshness. But it would be harsher still to push the girl away, or sit stiffly until she let go of her own accord. No, that's... unthinkable. Despite her lingering guilt, it feels far more natural to curl her arms around Regan and just hold her.

Part of her still wants -- needs -- to find Saoirse as quickly as she can. But this is needed, too, and she holds Regan close, absently rocking her a little.