Corrigan lets out a soft sigh, slowly walking through the chill night, careful to keep Kurt fully covered by the furs so they don't get too cold. The snow is mostly gone, the year pivoting slowly towards spring, the earth beginning to thaw, but at night it's still cold. He reaches out instinctively for the rest of the pack, for Holly, feeling each of them safe and warm and resting, Leo a bit lighter than the rest, keeping watch.
That satisfied, he turns his attention back to Kurt, resting his chin in their hair. He's been thinking the same thing, wishing so desperately that he could reach out the way he used to, overpower the horrific nightmares with his presence. He can feel the fractured bits of their link, sometimes, reaching out for his in the darkness, but wincing in pain whenever he gets too close. Corrigan knows he should give it time, should allow Kurt's mind and soul to heal.
But they're so unhappy. Corrigan doesn't need a link to see that, see the way his mate's slim shoulders are constantly bowed with the weight of their own memories, the way their smile doesn't always reach those big, beautiful eyes, the way they sometimes have to stop and take a deep breath and push away the pain and terror they still carry. He doesn't want to be patient, he wants to make it better now.
"I've been...thinking about...how to help," Corrigan begins slowly, pausing out by the woodshed, looking up at the clear night sky -- the moon, the stars. "And we can go slow. We can be as slow as you need, my love. You still need to heal. But what if...we tried to replace the memories. So the last one who touched you is me, instead." He doesn't know if it'll work, if it won't simply make Kurt even more frightened by being touched. But his whole body aches for them, for the touch of his mate, their body pressed to his, warm and beautiful and joined with his own. Corrigan misses that.
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That satisfied, he turns his attention back to Kurt, resting his chin in their hair. He's been thinking the same thing, wishing so desperately that he could reach out the way he used to, overpower the horrific nightmares with his presence. He can feel the fractured bits of their link, sometimes, reaching out for his in the darkness, but wincing in pain whenever he gets too close. Corrigan knows he should give it time, should allow Kurt's mind and soul to heal.
But they're so unhappy. Corrigan doesn't need a link to see that, see the way his mate's slim shoulders are constantly bowed with the weight of their own memories, the way their smile doesn't always reach those big, beautiful eyes, the way they sometimes have to stop and take a deep breath and push away the pain and terror they still carry. He doesn't want to be patient, he wants to make it better now.
"I've been...thinking about...how to help," Corrigan begins slowly, pausing out by the woodshed, looking up at the clear night sky -- the moon, the stars. "And we can go slow. We can be as slow as you need, my love. You still need to heal. But what if...we tried to replace the memories. So the last one who touched you is me, instead." He doesn't know if it'll work, if it won't simply make Kurt even more frightened by being touched. But his whole body aches for them, for the touch of his mate, their body pressed to his, warm and beautiful and joined with his own. Corrigan misses that.
"Would you...want that, Kurt?"