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Every so often the witch would pull her gaze from the ground before them to incline her head up, just for a brief glance at his face. To ascertain that this was him, that this was real and legitimate. Naturally, when she glanced up and saw a smile, it nearly undid her. Just to see his smile, after she was sure it would be ages until she saw it again, was like being released from those tormenting waves she felt she would be drowned under. The current had broken, the tide had gone down and she could swim back to shore, safe and sound. Morning would come, things would return to normal... Or so it seemed.
Something lurked beneath his veneer of weary melancholy mixed with quiet smiles. Something not yet spoken of, something the witch feared, just a little.
But each foot was put before the other, continuously on a much longer trek back than the journey there had been. Thankfully it wasn't altogether too far, a solid five minutes at a light jog, so only a few more at this snail's pace. Warmth and color and goodness waited for them, so it was worth it just to keep trudging forward.

"There will be time to... Answer questions. Do not worry about it now." Belladonna told him with her own little smile, but that wasn't right. Yes there was time, but what else would they do but ask questions of the other? Quietly she dropped her face back toward the ground as they neared the dorm, the building far back and still away but at least within sight now. "It will be good to talk to you." She added softly, not sure what else to say. Once again she was stuck, uncertain and afraid that her words might further upset him. That if she said the wrong thing he would be unhinged further, that they were treading a thin line and that she had taken up so much already that one misstep was all it was going to take to ruin this beautiful illusion. At his last words she looked up at him, a little stricken with worry clear on her face. Her mouth parted but she could only shake her head.
"Do not apologize... You... I am just glad you are back. I would have waited for you as long as it took. I... I am just glad you're back with me." Though she managed to get all her words out, Belladonna's voice cracked, belied the false facade of strength she'd shrugged on for him. Just under the surface she was still broken, still a small, cracked thing whose love was so fragile one wrong touch would destroy it forever. But still she soldiered on, still they drew closer to the dorms and when they finally reached the doorway, the witch shot out a hand to pull the door open for him. The stairs would be a hassle, but already the inside of the building was much warmer than the air outside.
At the bottom of the stairs the witch stopped and heaved a sigh, but managed a smile for Mort. Words wanted to spill out, but they were all half phrases, unfinished thoughts and jumbled up. Instead she pulled him into a hug, just a momentary break from their journey since they were so close to being done.

The pause in the stairwell had been meant as one last attempt at romance before they traversed the stairs. The witch had intended it as one little touch of sweetness before they confronted the bitter taste of reality and blame and loneliness that waited behind her door, where everything else but the two of them would be shut out. Unfortunate that Belladonna would think this way, but perhaps it was just another way to shield herself from whatever tears that were left to shed, from any harm that might yet still come her way.
So when the hug was instead returned with a little more force, when the hug was an attempt at something they'd once previously had and enacted with such careless effort, it surprised her. But it also helped mend her heart, even just a little bit more. Belladonna smiled a little wider, wrapped her arms around him a little tighter and was momentarily delighted to feel herself pulled up on her toes. It lasted but for a brief second and her feet once more found the floor, flat and steady as she straightened underneath him, more surprised to find that she had just caught him. Never before had she been granted that, never had it been something that was necessary.
But now it had happened, now she had been able to keep him from falling. Now he could depend on her in this, too.

Quick to keep things light the witch turned her head and dared to press a kiss to his cheek. Yet still uncertain whether she wanted to try for something a little more, she pulled her head back to quickly take a breath of him. Ocean scent and decay, exactly what she'd missed.
"Worst enemy perhaps, but easily defeated with a bit of stamina. And you've got loads, you'll make it." Belladonna chirped as she straightened up, tucked herself back underneath his arm and puffed her chest out in show that this was easy, this could be overcome. She flashed him a small smile, before she rose a foot and placed it on the first step. "Plus you've got me!" And hopefully, for once, she would be enough.
So though it was a long journey, certainly, and definitely a tedious one, the stairs still dissolved one by one underneath them. Their heights were scaled, together they managed to conquer the seemingly never ending line of raise foot up and move forward, let foot fall. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Finally, finally they made it to the top, made it to her hallway where it was only a short walk down to her room. Belladonna sucked in a breath and kept herself steady, for it was vastly important that they make this last trek. That they keep going. Far worse waited for them on the other side of her door, but all that could be overcome. If they had made this trek together, if they had suffered the time without the other, surely a few words and some tears would not be enough to break them.
I love him.
Yes, that would be enough for Belladonna.

Whereas her kiss had invigorated him, his smile and accompanying kind words were what the witch needed to steel her resolve. It was exactly what she needed to make her spine even more straight and revive her need to help him. It deepened her well of patience for him, made the trek at least somewhat easier and inspired her to smile back at him. A true smile, perhaps one of the first since they reunited, which as they worked their way up the stairs, seemed all the more sudden and surprising to the witch. He was here with her, safe and whole and all her's. Perhaps a little sadder than she liked, but it was something the witch knew she could fix. Every time before Belladonna had pulled him back onto his feet, so know that she lead up him the stairs, paused when he needed and offered words and smiles of encouragement when he needed them, she knew this was surmountable as well. This too would pass, this mountain could be conquered. It would only take more patience, more smiles and more love.
And love was something the witch had in such abundant quantities that when they reached her door, it did not seem so bleak.

Still, they reached it, still it stared back at them with a pink and black sign that held the witch's name. Still it stood there with little strips of paper with doodles, or words, or phrases of hope scrawled across them.
But it was just a door. It was just a passageway from the hallway to her room. There didn't need to be anything monumental about crossing this threshold, so Belladonna fished for the little key in her pocket with a small smile as she turned toward Mort.
"Yes, it is quiet. I do believe everyone is still celebrating... At least Trouble and Victor and Binx are. So, we're uh... We'll be alone." The witch told him as she awkwardly fitted the key into its lock and opened the door. A soft push was all it took for the door to swing open to reveal the witch's room, unchanged save for the large, glistening black bowl on her desk filled with familiar knickknacks as well as a few discarded bolts of black lace and fabric thrown over her sewing table. But it was still her room, still full of pink and black and dotted with yellow stars and crescent moons.
The witch wanted to say more, but she only heaved a happy sigh to be home, to have finally reached this quiet destination that would could very likely be a haven for the tired and stressed couple. Certainly it had the capacity to turn into a treacherous hell where each of them stepped on all the mines and destroyed every last vestige of peace between them.
But that was yet to be seen. That was yet to have happened, for there was time yet to turn the tide.

"Alright, just a few more steps..." Belladonna told him with the tiniest of smiles as she maneuvered him carefully through the doorway and after a quick push of door back to close where it clicked peacefully shut, toward the bed. It would be the only place she could literally dump him without worrying about whether he would be alright simply because her bed was rather fluffy. But because she had tucked herself right underneath him, there was absolutely no way she could just drop him, let him fall without any sort of support system. Already she had shouldered his weight across campus and up the stairs, what was a few more steps? What was a fall down onto her own bed?
"Incoming!" The witch called as she shuffled him so that he fell with his back toward the bed as she ended up fallen across his chest. Vastly unwilling to leave, the witch only helped ease the fall by pulling at the two of them before they crashed down, and once fallen, only situated herself fully onto the bed with him. Feet left the floor and Belladonna quickly kicked her boots off before she pushed him further onto the mattress so that she could cling to his side. Here with him, suddenly vastly aware of the fact that he accepted her love on some level, Belladonna could not leave.
Instead she curled herself to him, pressed what she could against him and heaved the heaviest of sighs. This was her Mort, with her in her room.
Regardless of what happened next, this moment was perfect.

With the window shut and a golden ray of moonlight filtered through the glass, with the door closed and a dull warmth that lay over both of them, with Mort right there next to her, his arm around her, his chest under her head, with all these little bits wrapped into one singular moment, it was enough for Belladonna. The moment was enough to wipe away a heavy portion of her sadness and to bring a bit of light back into her heart. A heavy sigh left her as all the worry and fears and sorrow ebbed suddenly, flew from her as a hand curled onto the fabric of his tattered shirt, while the other drew the hoodie turned blanket closer. Besides Mort himself, this was what she had missed most. Just a simple thing, to just lie with him, peaceful and content.
After the long day of Trick or Treating, the party, meeting Natalia and seeing Ren and Grendel, then being confronted with a scary portal topped off with a pellmell run across campus, Belladonna was sure she'd be exhausted. Coupled with her sadness, a day like this should have been enough to knock her off her feet and have her asleep before she'd even gotten under the covers. But, oddly enough, she wasn't tired. Her head continued to rest on Mort's chest, but her eyes swept open to take in the too close details of being so near him. A moment surfaced where she realized he still had on his shoes, that he was bloodied and that her knees were dirtied from the ground and that they were on her bed, but it passed when she took a breath. Instead a familiar scent took its place and she sighed contentedly.

His question surprised her vaguely so that she pulled her head back a little to look up at him. It felt as though it had been a long time since either of them had spoken, but it also didn't. It was a heady mixture the witch didn't know how to react to.
"We could. The moon is rather partial to lovers." Belladonna replied after a moment of thought, her temple pressed against his shoulder so she could better address him as well as look at him. "And Halloween is the longest night of the year. I do believe we have plenty of time." She added with a genuine smile, reminiscent of her old self. Two weeks was not a very long time, but it felt as though so much had changed within her. What if Mort found he did not quite like this suddenly melancholy ridden witch? But what if he erased the melancholy, as he was the antidote to the emotion anyways, what would be left after that?
"Whatever you want love." The witch added after a long moment of thought before she reached up and pressed another kiss to his cheek. She'd aimed too low and caught the top part of his jaw where stubble rubbed against her mouth and made her laugh. For the hundredth time in the past half hour she thought He's really here. He's honestly here with me.
Perhaps that was the heady emotion that confused her. Such suddenly rampant joy was presented to her, offered to the witch, but she knew it came at a price. Yet who was to say they could not still enjoy this evening, at least in part? It was the most magical night of the year, so certainly a little bit of such a wondrous thing could be spared for them too.

Wholly unaware of the fact that he had not been able to speak her name, Belladonna was content to lie there. A small shift came when he began to move and pulled his legs onto the bed, which only prompted the witch to move herself until he was comfortable. But when Mort began to wrap around her, she was quick to oblige, quick to form herself in whatever shape would bring her closer to him. The scratch of fuzz from his chin grazed the top of her head and Belladonna only let out a small chuckle before she reached forward to press a kiss to his neck. It felt odd that she had not yet kissed him, but there was time for that. They had ages, for this night would slow its pace, just for the lovers.
Suddenly, the image of the card rose stark and fresh in the witch's mind swift enough that it nearly jolted her upright. Instead her hands only clutched tight at Mort's shirt, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
The cards had foretold of The Magician first, of choices and new paths, and then the Lovers. Yet, their reunion was happening now without a choice being made. Had a step been skipped, or had the options simply not yet presented themselves? Was this the new path, the choices that had to be made, only they had not quite presented themselves?
When Mort asked his question the witch pulled back to look up at him, eyebrows still slightly quirked in thought. Their talk would undoubtedly bring the new path to light and Belladonna was just not prepared to face that reality yet. Not for a few moments more.

So even though she had tried to be patient she could not stop herself as she reached forward and up. One hand found his hair and without apology she kissed him, softly for she had longed for this.
The kiss was another cycle completed, one Belladonna had not realized as a circle until she connected with him. Their last kiss had been just as emotional, but that had been the beginning of sorrow and this was the end. Whatever he had to say next could be heard without fear. The repetition of melancholy was being pulled away, bit by bit.
It was enough.

The witch pulled back and placed her head nearby but as even as she could make it with Mort's. If they were going to talk, she wanted to at least look at him. At least until one of them had to look away.
"What do you remember?" She dared to ask before she heaved a sigh. His own question was far harder to answer.
Was any sacrifice ever worth the unfathomable sorrow it brought? Had there ever been a martyr who left loved ones behind who did not weep for them, or curse fate at least a little?
Had this sacrifice been permanent, had his gift been irreversible, Belladonna would have said no. But because he was still here with her, because he had saved the day and come back to her, it felt equal.
"Red killed Caelius and took away the Hunters' weapons. She is back, but so are you. So, perhaps... Do you think it was worth it?" Certainly it was the wrong thing to say, but still it was said. Still the witch posed her question. There were a million more she wanted to ask, but this had to be slow, methodical. If he did not remember everything, it would do no good to prompt him into further stress.
The witch would not do that to her lover, not while he was here with her. Not when he was in her arms, safe and sound.

There was a vast difference between the chill from outside and the one that wrapped itself around Belladonna currently. This chill was welcome, was wanted, shifted against her skin and set her on edge with unexpected wanting. To be closer to him, to hear his voice say any number of kind and wondrous things, was precisely the thing she needed right now.
Whatever heady emotion had begun to snake over her shoulders pushed her further when she pressed her soft kiss to him and he did not balk. Instead there was a slight push forward that only resulted in pushing the witch back. Surprised by his reaction, Belladonna paused close enough that it would only take one last little push to bring them back to that loving action. Had it been her imagination, or had something different happened? Had this reaction not been the typical, even after months of dating? Or was the witch only hoping for more, confused by her emotions?
Regardless she eventually pulled back, tried not to look anything other than happy for that was how she felt. So glad he was back that she was letting other doubts cloud her judgement. Instead she let a smile bloom for him and blinked slowly, savoring the particular moment of opening her eyes and finding him still beside her.

Whatever questions had been posed were left unanswered and the worried, thoughtful expression softened from the witch's face at Mort's own dazed look. Unaware of the particular lighting she somehow missed that pooled around her, Belladonna blinked at his words before she issued a soft "Oh!"
Her left hand abandoned her hold on him and rose up, presented to him where the red ribbon stayed tied around her finger. But its glow was faint, a dull hum of pink light. His next words made a little color rise in her cheeks, for that was only the greatest compliment anyone could have paid her.
"Stars don't glow pink, silly." She replied, still unknowing of the moonlight that radiated off her. Instead her right hand reached out to untie the ribbon, slowly for she would miss it from her hand.
"This is for you. Its my token of favor... I... I wanted to give it to you before, but ah... It, um, it... Glows. Or its supposed to." Belladonna tried to explain, suddenly bashful as she pulled the satin from her finger and began to wrap it around the bicep of his arm closet to her. "I wore it, while you were gone... But, it glowed every time I wished for you. When you wear it, its supposed to glow when you think on it... So you always have a bit of light with you, no matter how dark it may get."
With her words she gave him a bright smile, before she reached up to press a kiss to his forehead. Unable to contain herself now that they had crossed one line of action, she would undoubtedly continue to shower him with affectionate touches and gestures. Mort had been gone for two weeks, and the witch felt she had at least that much, if not more, to make up for.

Part of the reason Belladonna had grown so very bashful was because she only realized now the great significance she had unknowingly put upon her ribbon. Kept on her person was one thing, but kept on the ring finger of her left hand was another matter entirely. It spoke of so much more than the witch had even realized she felt, had even considered she might one day feel, that she could not help but drop her head in what appeared to be a grateful bow, but really was meant to hide her suddenly red face. Inwardly she kicked herself for such a beautiful present undone with hidden meaning she hadn't meant to be there. It was supposed to be a gesture of love, but she had made it a gesture of much more. As of yet no word of love had passed their lips this evening, which made the much more seem a desperate ideal.
"A knight cannot go without a favor." The witch said with a small shrug and a still slightly bashful smile. The moment was supposed to be sweet, but she'd already blown past all that with her too dramatic gesture and Belladonna hated how she continually second guessed herself with Mort. They'd been dating long enough to have fallen in love, but still she questioned her every action. It was vastly off-putting for a ghoul who did what she wanted steeped in enough confidence that any screw up could be easily glazed over.
Still, there was no more time to consider all that as Mort sat up and Belladonna hastened after him.

Softly she shifted on the bed so that she sat in front of him, their knees touching as she placed her hands on the cross of his ankles between them. It was a gesture that brought her a little closer because she had to lean ever so slightly forward, made their talk seem almost conspiratorial. His words were not inspiring, made the witch question whether he had not mentioned love simply because he did not remember her confession. That stung particularly bad, but it hurt far worse when the witch recalled that she had never been given a return answer to her question over if he loved her or not.
"Do you remember Ofelia and Clover? I... Have not heard or seen them since... Everything." Which was a slightly upsetting thought because Ophelia had seemed such a needy creature, a girl who needed to be protected despite her tough exterior. But the witch had to believe that Clover was that person for her, that his bright carelessness and kindness could pull her through anything. She probably felt this was vastly important to believe so hard because that was how she felt about herself and Mort.
"I do not know what you gave to Red, only that it was a gem of sorts. The last time you came back was because I..." Here Belladonna had to pause to draw in a deep breath to keep her anger at bay, "Because I screamed at her to give you back. And she threw that gem thing onto one of the Hunter weapons and it became a... Stone tablet of sorts. As for Caelius, she at least rendered him useless, he looked dead and threw his body into a portal. She let all the other Hunters go after she turned their weapons to tablets."
As for his last question, Belladonna only nodded solemnly. Oh, Red was alive. Happy to prance around campus but refuse answers or help. The witch had approached her but had been refused, only told that Mort and Alexander were lucky.

"Is Alexander back? And Aymet and Shehk too?" The witch asked with a small jump, vaguely excited to learn all the others were alright as well. "Do you remember what happened when you came back? And you do not... Remember details? Of the battle?" It was a sneaky attempt to fish for information, mostly selfish. But she just had to know if he remembered all her futile attempts at keeping him, if he knew just how hard she'd fought for him. Or if he'd ever remember those things. Time spent in sorrow of him was good, but if he did not know that drastic extreme the witch had lived in, from harming herself to save him to inactivity waiting for him, even her favor would pale in its devotion.