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It had been five days since he first saw her.
He still couldn't believe his eyes.
He thought it was an hallucination brought on by the scorching heat of that land, by the sweltering wind that tormented his face.
It can't be. It can't be her.
It simply cannot.
When his lips parched, his eyes receded, his skin burned, and his sight began to fail, he thought of seeing her again.
He hoped to see her again. If only for one last time.
Now, I Need Somebody to Know
The bed he woke up in was nothing special. And it wasn't even a bed, to be honest. It was more of a straw pallet thrown on the ground, but it was more than Jaime had had in a long time. More than he deserved.
As soon as he woke, he felt a tremendous pain in his head, as if someone had crushed it between two enormous hands. And he was thirsty—a great, endless thirst.
Beside him, placed on the floor, was a pitcher of water. Jaime drank greedily, not caring whether it was poisoned or not.
Even if he died, who would have cared?
If he died, he would see her one last time; of that, he was certain.
Perhaps, however, he truly was dead, because when the door opened, Jaime thought he was seeing a ghost.
It wasn't possible that she was dead too, though; he couldn't believe it. He had made sure that didn't happen; he had broken his own heart and broken hers to ensure that she lived.
She couldn't be dead, she couldn't. He would have fought the Stranger himself if He had held her in His cold embrace.
When he saw her more clearly, however, he realized that neither of them was dead. No, they were far too alive. She was far too alive and far too wounded.
"Kingslayer."
Jaime wanted to be dead.
Somebody to Heal
He ate the soup Brienne set before him greedily. It was cold and stale, and also the best soup he had ever eaten.
He had a thousand questions, yet the strength and courage to ask them were not there.
"I thought you were dead," she said.
Jaime smirked. "I thought so too."
Brienne looked at him with hard eyes. "Where have you been?"
Jaime shrugged. "Everywhere and nowhere, looking for the courage to die."
At that, Brienne huffed a bitter laugh. "Yes, you were always a coward when it came to your own life."
It hurt less than Jaime expected. And it wasn't as if she were wrong.
Finally, Jaime let the spoon drop into the soup bowl, splashing a bit of the foul liquid onto the table.
"What happened to you?"
Brienne twisted her lips horribly. "I did everything to survive. Even if I destroyed myself to do it."
Jaime wanted to ask her what she meant.
Somebody to Have
Jaime was washing himself in a basin Brienne had provided. He felt a bit ashamed to show himself naked to her. Not because of what had happened with her, but because of what had happened without her.
Still, he undressed anyway.
"You look even worse than I remembered," she said listlessly.
Jaime huffed a laugh. "You're not in great shape either."
Brienne grunted a murmur of assent. "Your sister?" she asked suddenly.
Jaime no longer flinched at the sound of her name.
"Dead. She was braver than I was."
"Why didn't you follow her?"
Jaime stopped washing, turned toward her, and sighed.
"I didn't want her to be the last thing I saw. I hoped to see you, but if I couldn't, I wanted at least to see a beautiful city before I died."
Brienne’s eyes hardened even further, and she moved to speak before being interrupted.
I fall into your arms
Podrick looked at him with a gaze grimmer than that of his knight.
The child he held by the hand, however, looked at him with curiosity.
Jaime didn't want to think.
"Who is he, Ma?"
"Nobody, sweetheart. Just an old acquaintance," Brienne replied without taking her eyes off him.
Jaime wanted to be dead.
Jaime wished he had never left.
"Podrick, we’re going outside to talk. Please, make sure Gal eats and goes to bed."
Podrick nodded pensively but did as his lady ordered.
Brienne walked out the door and Jaime followed her.
I'll be safe in your sound 'till you come back around
"When did it happen?"
Brienne turned her face toward the burning sun of Meereen.
"About seven moons after you left. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, more than fighting death itself."
Jaime nodded. "You named him after your brother."
Brienne seemed distant, as if she could not be reached.
"At least I have a part of Tarth always with me."
"Did your father not take you back?"
"And how could he?" she scoffed indignantly. "The Kingslayer’s Whore and her bastard. My father could not accept it."
Before Jaime could answer, she continued.
"No one could. Not Queen Sansa in the Frozen North, where hatred for the Lannisters burns as strong as wildfire; nor Queen Daenerys, who only left me alive to show mercy to her nascent kingdom. No one could, and no one did. Not even Essos, not even Meereen."
She said this, placing a hand on her scarred cheek.
Jaime couldn't stop looking at her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to beg for forgiveness.
He wanted to die.
He wished he had never left.
He wished he had returned sooner.
"What...?"
"...happened to me? Queen Daenerys may have abolished slavery, but even the Mother of Dragons had to compromise. The Fighting Pits. And the more brutal the fight, the better it pays. The better it pays, the more your son can eat. Even when you're fighting a beast that tears your face off with its teeth."
For a while, they remained in silence.
"What did you come here for, Jaime?"
"I wanted to see you before I died."
"So now you’re going to go die?"
Jaime remained silent for a moment.
"I can't."
"Because you're a coward."
"No. Because I don't want to die."
He wanted to live.
Brienne looked at him for a long moment before standing up and dusting the dry earth from her skin.
"Come on. Tomorrow is another day," she told him, gesturing toward her house.
Jaime wanted to live—with her, with his son, even with Podrick.
He wished he had never left; he wished he had returned. But he couldn't change the past; he could only shape the future and live in the present.
Jaime followed her.