Reagan
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
He speaks to her in ways that she knows he does not speak to others. Open. Honest. Frank, and pragmatic.
Because with her he knew he had nothing to lose.
He speaks as though he forgets that she can read his mind. And yet he speaks anyway, because he has the respect for her to tell her to her face what he feels about her. What is on his mind. How many shadows had this man run from in his long time on the earth? How many shadows had he created?
She says nothing as he speaks to her, and one solitary tea drips down her cheek as she stares across the sea—she refuses to look at him, even as he pulls away his warm body from her side to try and look her in the eye. She had already known that he had given into the darkness... that his immortality had a price. She was losing him, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Even this was beyond her magic.
Finally, he quiets, his chest heaving as he finishes his confession—heavy words for what had started out as such an honest exchange of easy moments. Reagan turns her head to face him then, rotating her body behind her. The stain of her cheek is still there. She does not bother to try and wipe it away.
"I do not need to fix you," she says. Her voice is strong. There is no hesitation, no quavering. Clear as a silver bell, she speaks again. "And I do not need you to protect me. Least of all from yourself. You saved me once..." she sighs, her green eyes boring into his pupils. "But I am a strong woman. I have loved, and been loved before. But what we have..." Another sigh. "It's different. It's always been different. Don't you see? You can't hurt me, because I won't let you."
"Just give me the rest of the days you have left. No one deserves to die alone, or unloved. And I will love you for the rest of mine."