Chapter Text
It was over.
The stillness of the woods on the walk home did little to quiet Matilda’s flurried thoughts as her chest ached with loss and her blood pounded in her veins. Kat was gone. She’d given everything she could and it wasn’t enough to save her friend.
And yet—that wasn’t the only cause of the empty space in her heart, a hole that somehow pressed against her ribs from the inside, causing her breath to catch in her throat.
For the last few days that felt like a fever dream, this was the first time that he wasn’t by her side.
Matilda risked a glance to him walking with his arm around Rip, chatting away as he caught his friend up on the last year. The grip around her heart tightened with his every gesture, every smile that she knew would never—could never—be directed her way again.
The chaos of the last few hours hadn’t been enough to hide the hurt on Brom’s face when he realized what was happening--what she was doing.
That was the last time he’d called her “Hon’”.
And why should she care?! It was a fake marriage, a means to an end. They just hadn’t had time to do anything about it, with trying to find the Headless Horseman’s head. It was always going to be over, one way or another.
Matilda realized the dirt path had turned to gravel under her feet and they were about to turn onto the main street. She looked up and her gaze automatically fixed on Brom.
Damn it. He was looking at her. She looked away quickly, first to Rip, then Ichabod. Her eyes darted downwards again, not daring to look at any of the three guys in front of her.
“We’re just go—”
“I better go—”
Brom and Matilda both stopped awkwardly. She dared to look up again, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
Brom started again. “We’re, uh, just going to the diner,” he stated, jerking his thumb behind him. He paused, and Matilda could feel the invitation die before it passed his lips.
Of course she couldn’t go. She’d kidnapped his friend and had almost trapped him in a fate worse than death. Well, she did trap his friend in a fate worse than death. Her thoughts passed from Ichabod to Rip, adding to the already unbearable weight of her conscience that still threatened to crush her.
She’d also omitted some important details about Brom’s high school sweetheart on whom she was pretty sure he’d been nursing a crush for the last ten years.
“I’d better get back to the bar,” she mumbled, brushing past Ichabod in an awkward maneuver that put as much space between her and Brom as possible.
Matilda fought the heaviness in her legs and willed them to carry her to the familiar doorway of Drugs ‘N’ Stuff as fast as they could. She slammed the door behind her, recklessly threatening the glass in its frame, before she let out a deep sigh.
Kat was gone. Brom was lost to her. Rip surely would never talk to her. Heck, she’d even miss seeing Ichabod’s puppy dog face every day.
The thought made her eyes well up with tears that she didn’t have the energy to hold back. In no time at all, they streamed down her cheeks as she slid to the floor, her legs crumpling beneath her.
“Anyone I need to kill for you? Or haunt for eternity?” Verla popped up beside Matilda, her dry tone unable to hide the sentiment in her question.
Matilda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head. “No—no thanks,” she managed.
Verla nodded and glided towards the back of the shop before she disappeared through the shelves of bottles.
Matilda leaned her head back, her body resting on the door behind her. She took a deep breath, desperate to keep her tears from turning into sobs. She knew that if she let herself go, she would never move from this spot, and she couldn’t turn into a mess at the entrance of a public shop.
She also couldn’t bring herself to move.
Images of the last few days washed over her in pounding waves: Brom’s disbelief when she followed Kat after the bard, ignoring his cries. (If she was honest with herself, that was probably more because she didn’t trust herself with Brom and Ichabod than her being worried about Kat.) The look on Brom’s face when she told Judy that they were in love—shock followed by a strange willingness to commit to the bit. (Why on earth was that the first thing that came to her mind? And how did it lead to him uttering the words, “I’d marry her”?!) His certainty when he brought Ichabod to her with the Headless Horseman, his belief in her almost touching. (So much of the town either thought she was crazy or kept a few feet away from her when they happened to cross her path outside of the bar. Behind Brom’s jovial teasing, however, there had always been a strange respect. Well, and maybe a little bit of healthy fear.)
This was crazy! Was she really falling apart over a boy? She let out a snort at the thought. No, she was not crying over Brom Bones—Brom, the epitome of the dumb jock who never really left high school. No, this was just displaced grief after losing Kat and almost sacrificing Ichabod to her spell and seeing a stranger murdered in cold blood in front of her by her best friend and—
A knock at the door made Matilda jump. She shot up and whirled around before she could remember to wipe her face.
“Brom?” she asked through the glass as she fumbled with the doorknob. She asked again as she managed to crack the door open, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Brom? What are you doing here?”
She kept his gaze, terrified to see her suspicions confirmed. Loathing. Hate. Disgust.
Disappointment.
Instead, his eyes softened as he took one hand out of his pocket and leaned it against the door, hovering closer to her. “I just wanted to check in on you,” he said.
Matilda glanced down at her feet, her hands clasped at her front. She unclasped them and held them behind her back before dropping them at her sides. “I’m fine,” she murmured. She knew they’d have to have this conversation soon, but she couldn’t face him now. Not just yet.
“Are you sure?” Matilda could hear the concern in his voice and she felt more tears sting her eyes. Not now, please Goddess, not now . “It’s just—that was a lot—with Kat....” he trailed off, and Matilda forced herself to look up again as the memories of the last night threatened to overwhelm her.
“It’s fine, Brom,” she said with a wave of her hand, her words more cool and clipped than she expected as she felt her cheeks flush. “We’re not really married, and you don’t have to babysit me.” Her words began to tumble out before she could stop them, each pricking her heart one by one without her fully understanding why. “You probably don’t want to even look at me. I promise we can go see Judy soon to clear up this whole mess and you don’t have to see me again and we can go back to the way things were but for now I just need—”
“Matilda, wait!” She tried to close the door but Brom grabbed her arm before the door could latch. Matilda froze, the pressure of Brom’s large hand wrapped around her wrist causing her heart to pound in a myriad of ways. Was her body really going to betray like that as well?
“I don’t—I didn’t mean—I don’t want things to go back to the way they were,” Brom said, and Matilda could see the earnestness in his expression. She held her breath as she realized how close he was, their bodies only separated by the opening in the door that he could easily swing open should he choose.
Part of her wanted him to.
Matilda kept her gaze on his, waiting for him to continue. Her mind raced, unable to decide what she wanted, never-mind trying to put any of her thoughts to words.
“I mean, I, uh, don’t think things will ever go back to the way they used to be,” he chuckled in an attempt at humour. Matilda could feel her muscles tighten, and Brom quickly continued, his expression serious once more. “No, not, I just mean...” He sighed and started again. “Look, I can’t pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. Rip probably doesn’t want to see you for awhile, and uh, Icky is still a little shell-shocked.”
Matilda searched Brom’s brown eyes, her lips unable to form the words her heart beat out. And you?
Brom paused as his gaze flitted back and forth as if to read Matilda’s thoughts. “I just can’t imagine what this has been like for you, Matty,” he said quietly.
Matilda swallowed. Matty. Not Wifey , not Babe , not Hon’. And yet, as much as she missed those pet names—she couldn’t deny it—the way he said her name was far more intimate.
Matty .
A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill. Matilda blinked to clear her vision, determined to remain strong for a little bit longer. But with Brom looking at her like that, his dark eyes filled with concern like he could see straight into her core was enough to take her breath away in a wave of terror and relief in equal measure.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered with a tremour. “I’m so, so sorry.” She licked her lips, unable to say more though her heart screamed within her. Her fingers gripped the frame of the door, the wood digging into her palm, and every muscle in her legs fought to keep herself upright.
“I know,” Brom murmured. She could feel his hand around her arm loosen, and he rubbed his thumb up and down her wrist that felt more comforting than such a small gesture should. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me you could hit like that? I would have recruited you as Assistant Coach ages ago.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand for emphasis. “At least we both know I have a thick skull.” He quirked a smile at her and Matilda let out an embarrassing snort in a release of tension she could no longer keep bottled up. She looked away with a sad chuckle before meeting his eyes once more.
“You did the right thing, Matty, no matter what you’re telling yourself right now. I’m just sorry you had to go through this past year alone.”
Matilda nodded, the weight in her chest lifting ever so slightly as she took in the truth of his words along with the reassurance in his eyes. “Tha—thank you,” she whispered, barely able to speak as more tears welled up. Could she just hold it together for a few more minutes?
Before she knew what she was doing, Matilda pushed the door open and threw herself into Brom’s arms, unable to resist the pull of him, his weight an anchor to the storm of her thoughts. He barely moved, save to slowly wrap his arms around her and give her a squeeze. The comfort of him warmed her chest and tears began to fall. Matilda buried her face in his shoulder, unable—or unwilling—to stop herself, and before she knew it, her whole body was wracked in ugly sobs. Still, Brom didn’t move, and Matilda clasped her hands around his solid frame, squeezing with more strength than she meant as if her body fought to purge the demons of the past night—the past year. Decisions no one should have to make had left her battle-weary and it was only now that it was all over could she even begin to grapple with everything that had happened.
Grief, fear, confusion and hurt all ripped through her with every sob, with Brom planted in place as she leaned into him. He began to rub her back, returning her squeeze with his own, and he murmured into her ear.
“It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s going to be okay.”
Matilda tried to nod in reply, knowing she should stop without the strength or care to do so. After carrying these secrets for so long she couldn’t help but give herself to the tears and the sense of relief to finally have someone else know everything.
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, planted in the doorway of Colonial Drugs ’N’ Stuff, until Matilda’s tears finally slowed to a stop. Even after she had run dry, she stayed in place, unsure if her legs would hold her upright once she pulled away from him. Still, she couldn’t stay here forever—even if part of her wanted to.
Eventually, Brom broke the silence. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice firm. “Kat… and Baltus, and… it wasn’t your fault.”
Matilda nodded into his shoulder and he brought one hand up to her head and stroked her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut as she warmed at the intimate gesture, and she let out a sigh to steady herself.
Finally, she summoned her strength and pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, not daring to release her hold on him. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she whispered.
His eyes softened as he smiled. “I know you,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve known each other for years, Matty. I know you fight for your friends.”
Matilda replied with a weak smile. “Thanks, Brom.”
With a deep breath, she unclasped her hands from around him and took a step back. Brom slid his hands to her arms. Her skin flushed under his touch through her jacket. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, and she willed herself to take deep breaths for some semblance of control, her awareness of every sense, every nerve-ending, every fibre of her body no small cause for alarm. Not for the first time could she help but wonder, was this purely a physical reaction of her body—and her very human emotions—being pushed to the brink? Or was there a more magical culprit?
Whatever the cause, Matilda felt hyper-aware and drained all at once, and she couldn’t bring herself to move. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her on their own, and there was a part of her that didn’t want to lose the comfort of Brom’s grasp on her arms.
“Do you need any help?” Brom asked, tentatively loosening his grip as he studied her. “You just, uh—you should probably get some rest.” If she wasn’t so tired, Matilda would have laughed at his offer, as if she was swaying on her feet from too many margaritas and needed help after a night of partying. Just like…
Matilda swallowed. “There’s a couch in the back. I’ll probably crash there for a bit.” Any soft, horizontal surface was beginning to sound divine, and she’d have more sustenance in the bar's kitchen than at her apartment. Besides, news would travel fast and no one would expect the bar to be open.
“At least let me walk you there,” Brom insisted. He guided them through the doorway and clicked the door closed behind them. Matilda couldn’t tell how they got from the front of the bar to the back staff room, but she was highly conscious of his arm around her as he led her to the couch and grabbed her a pillow and a faded blanket. The next thing she knew, the world had shifted by ninety degrees and the sagging couch cushions were the most comfortable bed she’d ever laid on. What she wasn’t so sure about was the brush of fingers across her face, though her heart finally felt a bit lighter as the sunlight began to streak across the room through the cheap blinds before she drifted off to sleep.