"I know, I know." She does know. She's been watching and worrying after him since she calmed down from the fight, wanting to look after him and knowing that it's due to her that he's been in such a bad way. "I'm sorry. I should have, I should have said earlier."

But her pride was there, trying to protect her and it from humiliation. And fear, and shame, all of those twisting up to still her tongue and keep her from walking over. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned and been a prideful little brat.

His arm around her feels right, the length of him against her. How close he is, and she's missed this, she's missed him, all so much. Too much. Enough that she turns her head, twists a little to be able to face, and kiss him. Finally.