David pushed the newly purchased wheelbarrow laden with gardening supplies through the walled garden's side entrance, closing the gate behind him.

  He was quite pleased that he'd managed to find everything Niala had wanted for tomorrow's project. Between the new tools to replace the rusted away ones they'd seen in the shed and the bags of soil and fertilizer, the wheelbarrow was just about overloaded. He parked it with a grunt next to the shed and dusted his hands.

  Shielding his eyes with one hand, he looked up at the sun's position- late afternoon. Niala must have started dinner by now. Maybe he was still in time to help some.

  With easy steps, he walked through the house's back door and into the ground-floor water room, washing his hands, before moving to the kitchen area, finding Niala sitting at the table and cutting vegetables into cubes. He smiled; he was in time to help.

  Retrieving a knife and the extra cutting board, setting them on the counter, then walking to Niala's side.

  “I'll help, hand me some of those.”

  Niala jerked to the side, surprise in her eyes as she whipped her head towards him.

  “Oh! Sorry, I was... concentrated on the veggies.” She said, averting her gaze from his.

  Why are her eyes bloodshot?

  “Did something happen? Your eyes look irritated.” He inquired.

  “Are they? I guess it's from the brew I did earlier; it smoked a bit, must have gotten into my eyes. I'm fine, though. Totally fine.” She offered him a faint smile.

  Strange. Safety-minded Niala would get smoke into her eyes? He shrugged, grabbed half the uncut vegetables, and brought them to his cutting board, starting to chop them up.

  For a while, the only sounds were the crunches and clacks.

  “David, are you... will you... Did you find everything?” She asked.

  “Hmm. Everything you told me to. If not, I can just run back to town. There's a surprising number of gardening shops.” He tilted his head. “Must be from being the local supplier for the farming villages in the region.”

  “That's great.”

  “...Seriously, did something happen?” He craned his neck, talking to the back of her head.

  “I'm just a bit tired, I guess. It's ok.” She replied, tail dangling, ears flopped down, eyes on her cutting board.

  “...alright.” He refocused on his chopping.

  Crunch - Clack.

  Crunch - Clack.

  Crunch – Clack.

  After dinner, David found himself some busy work, wanting to leave Niala alone to rest since she was tired. First on the line, storing the supplies into the shed.

  He hefted the bags in, put the new tools where the old ones had been, and even managed to find space for the wheelbarrow against a wall after rearranging a few things.

  As he stepped out of the shed he caught a glimpse of someone peeking through the cracked open garden gate. When the person noticed, they motioned for him to approach.

  Squinting, he approached, recognizing Karline. She kept beckoning him forward, stealing glances at the house's backdoor.

  Only once he was past the gate and it closed did she speak.

  “Mr. David, sir. We need to talk.” She said, eyes locked onto him.

  “What about?” He said, crossing his arms.

  “Not here, let's move back a bit.”

  He quirked an eyebrow but followed her nonetheless, past a few of the neighbouring house ruins. Whatever she had to say, she didn't want Niala hearing, which made him slightly wary.

  “So, what is it?” He asked again when she stopped leading him on.

  The courier woman didn't reply right away. She took in a deep breath, balling up her courage before she said a word.

  “Are you... set in leaving?”

  “In leaving... here? This town? Pretty much. There isn't a lot of high-paying postings in the region.” He answered, leery.

  “Not the town. Here, the house, her.” She pointed at Niala's house.

  David twisted, following the line Karline's finger made. He let his gaze linger over the then-decrepit, now-inviting home.

  He brought back his attention to her, narrowing his eyes. “That was always the plan. What are you getting at?”

  She stood motionless, eyes wide. Aggravation flashed on her face.

  “I'm getting at her! The girl!” She spun around and paced. “Why am I even doing this!” She gripped her face before dropping them into balled fists and stomping over to him.

  “Whenever anyone mentions your leaving, she implodes. Please, please tell me you noticed?!” She pleaded.

  He took a deep breath. Of course, he noticed it upset her. Of course, he noticed how it ruined the moment. Of course, he felt awful for being the cause.

  But what could he do? His work, his life, was on the road. He found purpose in being useful. He was a free courier. What would happen if he just stayed here forever?

  He would-

  He thrashed his head left and right.

  He was getting angry. Why was he getting angry? There was something annoying him, and he didn't know what it was, like a buzzing insect that you couldn't spot but kept invading your space.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  His anger seeped through. “Karline, I'd appreciate if you stuck to your own affairs from now on. Do you understand?”

  His tone let her know there was only one good answer.

  She leaned back slightly, moving her head up and down.

  He turned around and marched back h... to Niala's home.

  Maybe he had overstayed. Maybe it was time to rip the scab.

  One more week. Niala would have everything she needed to operate a successful alchemist shop by then.

  Then he'd tell her goodbye, wish her success, and return to his boots. David the Free Courier had been idle too long.

  In the morning, David and Niala began revitalizing the garden plot. Weeding, temporarily potting the plants and herbs, adding fresh soil and fertilizers, mixing it all, delineating the plots and identifying them with little signs, and finally replanting the original occupants.

  And since they were already outside, why not spruce up the rest of the yard? Trash was picked up, the grass was cut to size – David quite enjoyed playing the grim reaper with the old-style scythe he'd found in the shed – removing loose rocks and sowing grass seeds over the rougher patches.

  The day ended with both of them aching and sporting tanned napes, but satisfied from a fruitful day of labour. They rested their bodies on a wooden slate bench that David had 'recuperated' from one of the neighbour's yard and plopped down against the house, seeping in the content calmness that descended over the yard along with the setting sun, a tall, chilled glass of Niala's perfected fruit water in hand.

  They shared a smile.

  He couldn't shake the spike of guilt.

  The next day, David helped Niala order the storeroom shelves and identifying tags. They had spiced tomato soup and fresh buttered grilled bread for lunch. In the afternoon, they set up the small office. They dined on pasta with the leftover tomato soup turned into a sauce and fruity pudding for dessert. They chatted about the day, David teased Niala, and they shared a few smiles.

  The guilt reared its head again. He didn't manage to make it go away.

  The day after, they opened and catalogued everything that Jasmund had left behind in crates and barrels in the basement. With the manawiring fixed, the lights working, and the ventilation running, to David's regret, the basement wasn't spooky anymore. They found several books and specialized gardening tools, clothes, housewares, sheets, and general supplies.

  Niala relocated the books and tools to her library and workroom, respectively, and everything else was stored back.

  They prepared a dinner of meat strips cooked in a pepper sauce with a side of stuffed tubers.

  They sat outside and looked at the night's sky, David recounting past postings, Niala listening with her entire being. They shared a smile.

  The guilt was still there.

  Over the next two days, David helped Niala as she began filling her stock with potions, brewing from dawn to dusk. He fetched ingredients – so easy to find with all the tagging and signage, stored the completed potions, and helped her clean in between brews. By the end of the second day, she had an appreciable variety of potions and brews that she was confident would cater to the vast majority of her potential clientele. Anything it didn't, she would brew on demand.

  They celebrated with a home-made pizza and a small berry cake with lemon-vanilla icing.

  They spent the evening coming up with designs for pamphlets and flyers to advertise Niala's shop. They shared a smile.

  It was getting too much for him.

  On the last day, they spent the morning tidying up the small square in front of the house, scything the overgrown grass and pounding the pavement stones back into place. Later in the afternoon, David told Niala he had something to retrieve in town and left.

  He came back a bell later with a long and heavy cloth-wrapped package under his arm. Niala hovered around him, attempting to puzzle out what it was.

  He set down the package in front of the shop and untied the strings holding the cloth, revealing a masterfully engraved and lacquered shop sign, with 'Panacea Potion' in bold amethyst lettering over a lily-white background, framed by flowery curves of blues and browns.

  “Do you like it?” He asked the statue-still Niala, the tip of her tail barely twitching, mouth agape.

  “When... How...” She halted.

  “A while ago, after you decided on the name. I had a local artist come up with a ton of designs. I picked the one that felt most like you and sent a letter to Luke, asking him to commission an artisan back in Bellharbour. It arrived two days ago. Do you like it?”

  “It's perfect! I love the design! The colours! I love- I love it! Hurry, we have to put it up! Hurry!” She was practically jumping.

  Holding back his smile as best he could, David brought up a ladder and fastening supplies. Driving heavy masonry screws into the building's facade, hanging the sign on them, and sliding the locking bar in place, he gave the sign a good tug. It didn't budge. He climbed down and took down the ladder.

  All the while, Niala was looking on starry-eyed, hands clasped, tail slicing the air.

  He walked to her side and surveyed his... their handiwork.

  The house that had been nothing but a decaying memory, with decades pressing down on it, had been reborn.

  It was still scuffed and worn; it was an old building that had gone disused, but it wasn't a memory anymore.

  Now it was alive. It breathed again. An island of warmth surrounded by forlorn vestiges, it welcomed visitors like an old matron welcoming her beloved grand-kids.

  They had poured love, care, and ambition into its hollow form, and it now bore all of those proudly; so many little patches and repairs, the healed wounds of an abandoned survivor ready to love again.

  It was glorious.

  And it was Niala's.

  Not David's.

  He let the moment pass.

  He turned to Niala. Clamped down on his rowdy heart. He had to take the step now, while he felt he still could.

  “So... this is it.” He said.

  Her smile faded away. She turned to face him. “This is... what do you mean?”

  “You're all set up. You have everything you need. I can go back on the road knowing that you'll do well.”

  Her tail stopped moving. Her ears deflated. Her eyes moistened.

  “Ah... I... guess so...” She firmed up. “You can stay longer if you want! I don't mind at all!”

  “Thanks for the offer, but it needs to end at some point. I'll still come visit when I'm around, see how you're doing.” He offered, his smile strangely reticent in coming out.

  She slumped. “Oh... I... ok... wait!”

  She ran inside and came back out with a small pouch, offering it to him.

  “I... prepared this in case... for when you...”

  He accepted it and looked inside. “Tea bags?”

  She shook her head, desperately clinging to her smile. “No, old woman bags. Boil water to a roiling boil, cut the heat, add one of the big bags, wait 2 minutes, then add one of the small bags, stir for another minute, and take them both out, and you'll have an old woman's. I made about 30 of each so...”

  She gazed downward and squeezed her hands.

  He stood there holding her parting gift. She had fought through the despair she felt whenever the thought of him leaving came to mind to make these, with full knowledge that she would only give them to him when he left.

  She'd still done it, because she knew he liked having it in the morning, and she wanted him to have it even if she wasn't there.

  And I didn't think of a parting gift for her... oh, wait!

  He opened his courier pouch and retrieved the one cargo-cloth that wasn't keyed to him anymore.

  “Niala, thank you for these, truly. I didn't really think of a parting gift beforehand, but I think this will do.” He held out the folded cloth for her.

  With a trembling hand, she squeezed it, bringing it to her chest, adding her other hand to it. She didn't say anything.

  “It's the cloth I used to find you in the forest. It's yours now.” He forced his mouth to smile.

  Silence ran between them.

  He eventually cleared his throat. “Well, goodbye, Niala. I'll go rent a room at an inn and I'll be out with tomorrow's auto-carriage.”

  A drop of water hit the pavement. “You can stay here tonight if you want. There's a room for you.” She forced herself to say, never looking up.

  “If I stay here tonight, I know I'll miss the auto-car tomorrow because I'll be busy eating your breakfast.” He tried to jest. “It's better if I go. Take care, ok?” He managed to just smile.

  She didn't reply, didn't look at him.

  He ripped himself away, took one step, then two, the third came a bit easier, then the fourth, fifth, sixth...

  Before long, he was around the thicket and out of view.

  Niala stood motionless, gripping the cloth, her knuckles turning white. Trembling, she murmured.

  “Would it be so terrible if you stayed?”

  She fell to her knees, burrowed her face in the cloth, and she cried.