'Holding a Candle For You' (James Version)

[Alternate Text: A header image of a close-up on a burning candle. The curled wick is visible along with the golden and orange hues of the lone flame. The background is pitch black to let the candle be the focal point. The title 'Holding a Candle For You' is similarly dark with a dim glow effect around it as if it's meant to be obscured.]

This Alternate Perspective is from J. Corvin. 💚

It takes place during TFS: Book One in Chapter 3, the memorium! It's important to note that I wrote this with J having a past crush on your Returning Visitor along with you choosing them for the candle lighting, which is a romance choice. The oak that's referenced in this writing comes up in both books; however, the choice to learn about its greater emotional significance can be unlocked by going on J's RO excursion/date in Book Two while having had a past crush on them.

(I'm mentioning this^ in case any of you are curious!)

Also, you're friendly with R. Verner rather than romancing them or being lukewarm, which means it influenced the conversation between them and J. There are variations in Book One as well.😌

Through the gloom hanging over the town square's edges, James watches out for those gathered in its manicured, grassy center. They mill about in loose tangles, socializing during an event that should be quietly somber, if not reflective, but he doesn't fault them. He can't.

To fault them would invite him thinking about his own feelings about tonight's memorium.

James isn't remembering [Grandfather_Name], only you, and a part of him knows that's wrong.

It's why he's further separated himself tonight by seeking shelter beneath your oak tree, the one you once shared a clandestine first dance behind. This spot is the both of yours. It helps during these town events, seemingly providing the perfect sightlines for him to project a lawful presence, but James is also clinging to what's comforting when those eyes turn to him in silent question, expectation, and judgment. It adds to his guilt concerning this grisly case.

You're back, which is something he had once desperately wished for, but the circumstances are grim. He's thinking of your shocked face when you were taken away from the Corvin farm instead of [Grandfather Name]'s mutilated body. James's frightened screams for you overtake the ones from your grandfather when he tries to mentally reconstruct what really happened. Hurting you any further is what's bothering him in addition to the case's facts.

[Grandfather_Name] is dead, yet his grandchild still lives on after everything, so why harm you more by pointing out these inconsistencies…?

Because it's the right thing to do.

Would he do the wrong thing, if it was for you?

James forcibly banishes that whisper of a dark thought from his mind by concentrating on the patterns within the crowd. He recrosses his arms, feeling a very mild sting along his right forearm from where his nails subconsciously rested, digging into old wounds. It abates in a few seconds while his eyes scan for the cause of the ripple through the townsfolk. He knew when you arrived. It's easy to tell where you are from how the crowd moves in tandem: peering over in your direction, murmuring about your return, and treating you differently than before.

There's a magnetism—a shared gravity—from your childhood that James finds hard to resist; however, the townsfolk must feel something else. They're keeping you apart, not quite repelled, but there's an understood distance. He saw Ruby speaking with you earlier, parting the crowd with her powerful stride to take a moment to speak privately.

It gave you a minor reprieve from the staring.

It's back now as you seem to be killing time before the memorium's lighting ceremony, possibly seeking out familiar faces like Mrs. Dor—

"Such a clandestine location."

James abruptly startles, catching his work boot on one of the towering oak's raised roots during his quick pivot around. Ruby comes into the faint glow cast by the string lights wrapped around the tree trunk. Her ebony suit helped her blend into the darkness, but her hair is the giveaway that he should've caught in his peripheral vision rather than giving into his habit of startling from the slightest of things. It isn't very Detective-like, too much James in that mannerism along with watching over you in particular.

"Ruby," he states her name stiffly. His reaction has more to do with where his mind's at than Ruby's unannounced arrival. "I—"

"It was not my intention to frighten you," she interrupts him. "I simply wanted an update."

"I thought we agreed on distance?"

Ruby raises a perfect eyebrow at his immediate counter before her flicker of concern gives way to a warning smile. "We agreed to boundaries for appearances since we are essentially conspiring, but"—she leans closer, weak shadows dappling across her face—"this case has a humanizing aspect. [Surname] shouldn't be left in the dark for long… It never ends well, even if you have the best intentions, Detective."

She's regarding him with too much perceptive understanding that leaves him feeling uneasy, or that may be his own guilt wriggling about.

"I couldn't speak freely at the station," he points out. James hates having to say this about his place of work where protecting the community should be their main purpose. He is having some fledgling doubts. "I didn't want to ruin the memorium—if I told [Name], it could've changed tonight's meaning for the [Surname] family."

"It also could influence [his/her/their] behavior in front of the crowd," Ruby knowingly remarks. "But you will be explaining it sooner rather than later to let that reaction—the real one—occur."

That wasn't a question.

James locks his jaw during the familiar tension that crops up when Ruby levels an expectant look his way that's to be met with unequivocal agreement. There is absolutely no playfulness to it. Your grandfather's death and subsequent return is affecting them differently—his need to shield you contrasts with how your childhood rival wants it handled. "Tomorrow," he agrees. "I'll ask for permission to use his cabin as a meeting place—it's remote, a starting point."

"Until then, try to get through this 'event' by taking it as the poorly lit spectacle it is," Ruby suggests. "Very rarely do people mourn here."

If there's more beneath her breezily bitter suggestion is unclear to James, although he observes Ruby's side profile during the pause until he resumes his normal vigil. He seeks out the ripples that propagate from your presence; there are none. His heart stutters at the mere idea of you feeling the need to leave this event, possibly due to the scrutiny or the heaviness of another loss in your family. James straightens up, prepared to leave the comfort of his distant vantage point early, when he locates you again.

You're slowly picking your way across the field.

"Ruby, look."

She follows his signal, both of them pivoting in your direction to avoid appearing overly furtive as you close the distance. It'll be another reunion, except it's in the massive shadow of your oak tree. He wonders if you'll realize the emotional significance, which prompts him to avoid lingering near its broad trunk like it's a pillar of support… Even if it has been for years.

"Hey, [Surname]."

Ruby raises her hand in a lazy wave, languidly rolling her wrist once before lowering her arm back down. It's useful—helpful—when James is finding it hard to play off what they were just talking about. He swallows roughly, unwilling and unable to muster up a smile or quell the tension setting into his features. He's far too worried about how you'll shoulder everything.

What if he's the one to hurt you this time?

What if he's just like him?

"It's almost time for your big moment."

"Yeah," you agree after sparing a glance at the steadily conglomerating crowd. "I guess."

"I have final check-ins to perform." Ruby spares one last look at James, only stepping away once she receives the barest of nods in reply. "I will be in the front row, if you need any pointers on setting things ablaze. This would be hard to mess up."

James furrows his brow at Ruby's advice that was encouraging in her own way; he saw how her smile broadened once she spotted you.

"Thanks…? I think."

There's a momentary quiet following Ruby's departure that he doesn't disrupt. Each word he says to you before sharing the details about [Grandfather_Name]'s death is going to weigh on him. You're watching the path Ruby is taking across the square, whereas he's still drawn to you. James waits for you to speak up.

He has never minded waiting for you.

. . .

. .

.

His gaze leaves you the very second you turn back around with the lit candle in your hand.

James stands tall and rigid in the front row of the crowd where he doesn't belong. He isn't the only one who believes that based on the outline of space respectfully ceded to him that he prefers, expanding on it after delivering a stern look to a man who was getting antsy during the lighting. You had struggled to light the Flame of Remembrance. No one was going to ruin this moment that may mean something to you despite how James feels conflicted.

He would quiet down the entire first row.

Now, he's stalwartly staring at the obelisk as if you aren't the focal point of this memorium—of his turbulent thoughts—of his honest concern.

You don't deserve any of this tonight, but that changes come tomorrow, and James hates it.

He detects the minimal change in lighting too late—how what's artificial from the monument's few lights grows warmer. His attention falls on you as you draw closer to where he stands somewhat apart from the others. James can't hide his silent confusion behind the Detective's inscrutability, not when you're this close.

He gives a small, unsure frown, even letting his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly since this seems unreal to him, almost dreamlike, but also so nightmarish given the circumstances.

You've made a choice…?

Is your new friend standing behind him? Mrs. Dorran? He doesn't deserve to receive First Light from you when he can hardly bring himself to think of the dead man in question. It shouldn't cross his mind how the soft candlelight accentuates your features—what he remembers and what has changed since then.

James watches you, stunned for a second time by the sight of you and left in free fall.

Why me?

That rises above everything else.

He doesn't remove the stick candle from the front pocket of his peacoat, never believing he should have been given one to hold tonight.

But James will raise it for you—only for you—if that's what you're in need of from him.

…It isn't the only thing he's holding onto for you…