Sacrifice

"Maria, see that?" Camila pointed to what was perched over their mantle. No more of this.

The girl, fifteen for less than a month, nodded while throwing her aunt a look of deep gratitude. "Yeah, I saw it when I came in, it's... is it...?"

"A sculpture. Of your uncle." Camila leaned over the arm of the sofa so she could run her fingers through her husband's fair hair, careful to keep them away from the bandage across the left side of his face. She kept from putting any weight against him too, but she'd been doing that for weeks—agonizingly interminable weeks—so she was used to that. It was why she had such sympathy for Maria too, when the girl had sprinted at Link the second she'd stepped through their door.

"Someone made a statue of him?" Maria was honestly fascinated then, and stepped up to the three-foot high work of art. "That's... that's so cool." She tilted her head and took it in with a wide, toothy smile. "He looks like, like a superhero or something."

"Well, that's what he is to the sculptor, the husband of the woman he saved that... that night." Camila should have been proud of herself that she could get it out, the reference to the moment she almost lost him forever. "The one he took three bullets for."

The one he lost an eye for... oh god...

"Oh hell man... just... Jesus Christ..." Camila's brother, Luis, Maria's father, saw what was happening to his sister and beat her to the punch. "How do you do it?" His words were hard to understand past the hiccupping the big softy couldn't seem to control. Next to him, Yesenia had her hand on her son's arm—was, in fact, leaning fully leaning on him—and behind them both, Hector was cradling his newest grandson while he tried to be the stoic one for all of them. Tried being the key word there.

Link had been biting his lip and looking at the floor, but when he heard the hitch in his brother-in-law's voice, the sincerity of the question, he fixed his gaze on his blossoming niece and his happily slumbering nephew. "There's... there are a lot of Marias and Davids out there. A lot of Yesenias and Hectors and Luis and Cynthias..." That was Luis's wife, who'd been delayed but was on her way.

Link shrugged, embarrassed. "Someone needs to do it."

The room grew silent then, until, finally, Yesenia broke it. "So... fuck it." She ignored the universally surprised looks she was receiving. "I said I'd let her tell you when she moves back next month, and I hate to betray my youngest baby like this, but..." The stately woman smiled down at Link through the tears she stopped trying to fight. "Liliana is pregnant."

Link's eye widened and his sudden grin was like the sun emerging from behind black clouds, but his mother-in-law wasn't done yet. "Before you ask, it was some random cabron who is no longer in the picture." She grimaced. "Not all my children are equally wise, we know this. Still, she very vehemently had a question she needed me to find out the answer to. Obviously, she's not far enough along to know the sex." She grinned cheekily. "But just in case, what's the feminine version of Lincoln?"

__________

Camila couldn't seem to stop smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in the blue uniform filling her vision. Her fingers kept moving, and her eyes remained steadfastly forward, right on Link's chin. It was all she could manage thus far.

"Wow, I knew this day was coming, but..." She swallowed. "You sure you're ready? Maybe just a couple more weeks of convalescence?" She gave an airy laugh that wasn't fooling either of them. "Is it too much to ask for you to, maybe, just get... I don't know... a little slice across the ribs, one that'll put you out for..."

Shit, what's wrong with you? Foot firmly in mouth, Camila finally looked up at her husband's face, near panicking, and saw nothing but stone. "Christ, I'm sorry. Ignore me. I'm just..."

"I know." His arms were around her and she was safe again.

After a good time that way, too long, honestly, Camila pulled out of his embrace and gave her best smile. "Okay, you'll be late for your first day back, and the people on your beat will probably kick our big ass door down if they think I'm keeping you from them."

He didn't say anything, so Camila just watched his eye, the real one. Even the prosthetic one seemed to be weighing her, though. The less that was said about the new, ugly scar running across his face from where that third bullet had mutilated the socket—the one that looked like it must have come from his head being split in two—the better. She was proud of her skills, and proud how she'd kept it together to save him that night, but, good lord, it'd been the hardest...

"Save me."

The eerie echo of her thoughts caught Camila off guard enough that she stepped back and looked at him quizzically, honestly unsure if she'd heard him correctly. When she just blinked at him for the third time, her husband turned around and took a step towards the door like he'd never said a word.

"Link...?"

He stopped, frozen, and started trembling, but still didn't turn back around.

Not understanding why, Camila felt more frightened in that moment than she ever had in her entire life. "Love... talk to—"

Link spun so quick that she actually felt a breeze across her skin, so maybe that was responsible for the shiver and sudden gooseflesh. Two quick strides, and her bear of a mate had her arms in his paws, and was looking down at her like he was lost in the dark.

"Cammy... say it. Say it, please. Tell me I can... I can..."

"Link, Link... you're scaring me." She pulled him by his shaky arm to the sofa, forcing him to sit next to her. She took his hands—twitchy and sweaty—in hers and tried not to cry. About what, she had no idea, but she felt that something horrible was happening. "Tell me what I can do. Anything. Tell me anything, and I'll do it."

Link lifted one hand and cupped the side of her face, weaving its fingers through her soft hair. "Say it for me. Tell me I can, and I'll stop. Today. Right now. I'll tear it off and never look back." She saw his other hand pulling at the front of his uniform. "Yours is the only word I need."

"You'll stop... oh my god." Camila, finally, understood what he was saying. "Link, you... you're asking me?"

Though she wished with all her heart she could keep herself from doing it, her gaze nonetheless shifted to the sculpture of Lincoln the Hero that was the latest addition to their household.

"This life, we'll put it behind us."

Eyes over to the kitchen, where a veritable mountain of gifted food containers tottered precariously.

"Tell me I can let it go. Tell me I've done enough."

A stare right at the bureau where more than one drawer was stuffed with letters proclaiming eternal gratitude.

"I just need you to say it's all right."

The mounted medallion that a loving city had bestowed on its hero.

"Let me have what I said I couldn't."

The photograph of children desperate to touch their savior.

Link seemed to empty out entirely then and hunched over, putting his head in her lap. When he began to speak again, to let out his final plea, Camila didn't just hear it, she felt it. All through her body.

"Liiinnkkk..." Camila sobbed out that beloved name, her entire form suffused with misery. "Please, please..."

The love of her life, her other half, the one for whom she would gladly die if necessary, heard it and finally met her eyes once again.

"Tell me I'm worth saving."

__________

A gust of wind blew half of Camila's hair in front of her eyes, and, just for a second, she was surprised by how much gray had crept in there without her realizing it.

Not enough. The thought seemed odd for a second. Then it made sense. It was the cold truth, in fact. Not nearly gray enough for this moment.

No, her hair should have been snow-white and presiding over a hunched, wrinkled body long before she came to this time. This place.

She felt a hand rub her arm and turned to an actual snow-white mane, trying to express her gratitude to the dissolving face of her mother beyond it. Trying. Her hair wasn't this white a year ago. Or a month ago, she suspected. It was like it'd been drained of life.

That idea nearly made Camila run, to retreat within herself, but a tug at her wrist coming from a small hand brought her back, at least a bit. She knew she'd have to collect and cherish such moments, because they were the only such she'd ever be getting. Borrowed. Only ever borrowed.

"He's in there, right?" The small girl in the pretty dress looked up at her aunt with big brown eyes, trying to understand. "Is he... he's taking my name down there with him?"

Beyond them, the droning voice of a peddler of lies kept going on. "...taken from us by those who will face their own judgement someday soon... justice comes to all... everyone reaps the rewards they sow..."

The widespread, collective sniffles, cries, and wails were like a blanket thrown over the entire world, but Camila managed to bend down enough that her little niece could hear her. "He'd never take anything from you, Linky. You know what he was like. He only ever gave."

When the child smiled and nodded, Camila Winters touched the oak coffin once. The sudden pain in her chest was welcome, but it was much less than she knew she deserved.

"I made sure of that."