𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐓. 𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fidior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-02-06 05:13 pm
fidior) wrote in singillatim2024-02-06 05:13 pm
Entry tags:
how to hold a thing one loved
Who: Kate Marsh & Edward Little.
What: It's been some time since Kate came to Edward's cabin while he had a Visitor, and there are hurts to amend.
When: Early February.
Where: The Community Center / through town.
Content Warnings: Depression, mention of / allusion to suicidal ideation.
[ The thing (the tangible, cold thing) is gone, but it hasn't fully left him.
The particular veil it cast over his eyes has faded, leaving his vision clear again — like waking from a long, lingering nightmare. But the things in that nightmare still exist, and he can see them with that cleared vision, now. He sees the terrified features of La'an Noonien-Singh, forever frozen, unmoving and body cold, dead. He sees the faces of all of his men, too — some dead, some dying, all suffering. He sees the faces of those he has come to care for in this town and knows he cannot truly protect. He has already failed. He will fail again and again.
He still feels all of that empty, cold ache from the shadowed double that had attached itself to him, or perhaps come from within. Edward mostly perceived it as his own soul made free, capable of moving and walking and watching him. Black and miserable and dripping with guilt. He's since learned that others experienced something similar — Wynonna had a visitor come creeping out of the dark to fix itself to her, perhaps others as well — but still, he can't help thinking that it was a punishment he was always deserving of, and doomed to face someday.
His shadowed twin faded away, and he no longer thinks about the number of bullets in his gun, but he feels no less heavy. No matter that he sheds literal layers of himself, hasn't worn his greatcoat or the other outer pieces of his uniform for days now. They've stayed tucked in his wardrobe; he only wears his jumper, trousers, and boots. It's... about as casual as Edward Little could get, hair an unruly mess of waves, freed of his officer's cap.
He hasn't left his cabin in what feels like a very long time, and the last person he's seen was Wynonna — and it helped, oh it helped immensely, feeling connected to someone again — but as he steps from the wooden door and starts making his way up to the town again, he feels like a stranger to it. He feels much smaller without the usual layers of his clothes or the familiar weight of his gun. He feels... like an imposter, almost. Fortunately there aren't many out and about, and he's glad for it, not quite ready to socialise or explain or be looked at when he's like this. And yet there is someone he seeks out, someone he'll allow to see him this way, because she deserves it, she deserves so much from him — apology, remorse, a plea for forgiveness.... His heart is in his throat as he steps up to the Community Center and lets himself in, quietly. He hopes there aren't many lingering in here now, either. But he hopes she will be.
She is. It doesn't take long to locate Kate Marsh, and when he does, he's giving a soft exhale of breath, stomach twisting. She must think he's abandoned her. It's exactly what he'd done. ]
Miss Marsh?
[ The familiar name feels a little less so, after going so long without speaking it. He's still re-finding how he fits with everyone here. But when Kate looks up to him and he makes contact with the familiar soft hue of the girl's eyes, he remembers more of how he fits with her, at least. Edward swallows, fingers pressing into palms. ]
I apologise for disturbing you precipitously, but I was wondering if... you might have a walk with me? So that I may... speak with you. I—
[ He's still formal around the border of things, but falters a little with that, and voices how he feels in the next breath. ]
I very much would like to speak with you.
What: It's been some time since Kate came to Edward's cabin while he had a Visitor, and there are hurts to amend.
When: Early February.
Where: The Community Center / through town.
Content Warnings: Depression, mention of / allusion to suicidal ideation.
[ The thing (the tangible, cold thing) is gone, but it hasn't fully left him.
The particular veil it cast over his eyes has faded, leaving his vision clear again — like waking from a long, lingering nightmare. But the things in that nightmare still exist, and he can see them with that cleared vision, now. He sees the terrified features of La'an Noonien-Singh, forever frozen, unmoving and body cold, dead. He sees the faces of all of his men, too — some dead, some dying, all suffering. He sees the faces of those he has come to care for in this town and knows he cannot truly protect. He has already failed. He will fail again and again.
He still feels all of that empty, cold ache from the shadowed double that had attached itself to him, or perhaps come from within. Edward mostly perceived it as his own soul made free, capable of moving and walking and watching him. Black and miserable and dripping with guilt. He's since learned that others experienced something similar — Wynonna had a visitor come creeping out of the dark to fix itself to her, perhaps others as well — but still, he can't help thinking that it was a punishment he was always deserving of, and doomed to face someday.
His shadowed twin faded away, and he no longer thinks about the number of bullets in his gun, but he feels no less heavy. No matter that he sheds literal layers of himself, hasn't worn his greatcoat or the other outer pieces of his uniform for days now. They've stayed tucked in his wardrobe; he only wears his jumper, trousers, and boots. It's... about as casual as Edward Little could get, hair an unruly mess of waves, freed of his officer's cap.
He hasn't left his cabin in what feels like a very long time, and the last person he's seen was Wynonna — and it helped, oh it helped immensely, feeling connected to someone again — but as he steps from the wooden door and starts making his way up to the town again, he feels like a stranger to it. He feels much smaller without the usual layers of his clothes or the familiar weight of his gun. He feels... like an imposter, almost. Fortunately there aren't many out and about, and he's glad for it, not quite ready to socialise or explain or be looked at when he's like this. And yet there is someone he seeks out, someone he'll allow to see him this way, because she deserves it, she deserves so much from him — apology, remorse, a plea for forgiveness.... His heart is in his throat as he steps up to the Community Center and lets himself in, quietly. He hopes there aren't many lingering in here now, either. But he hopes she will be.
She is. It doesn't take long to locate Kate Marsh, and when he does, he's giving a soft exhale of breath, stomach twisting. She must think he's abandoned her. It's exactly what he'd done. ]
Miss Marsh?
[ The familiar name feels a little less so, after going so long without speaking it. He's still re-finding how he fits with everyone here. But when Kate looks up to him and he makes contact with the familiar soft hue of the girl's eyes, he remembers more of how he fits with her, at least. Edward swallows, fingers pressing into palms. ]
I apologise for disturbing you precipitously, but I was wondering if... you might have a walk with me? So that I may... speak with you. I—
[ He's still formal around the border of things, but falters a little with that, and voices how he feels in the next breath. ]
I very much would like to speak with you.
time to cry i guess....
There hasn't been an easy answer on what to do. It's been more than a week since she'd tried to see Edward Little at his cabin and he'd known she was there — he hadn't come to the door. She didn't know what else she could do. It had hurt, more than she could exactly explain. A particular kind of sting that left her at a loss. She doesn't know why, she doesn't understand it. But she refused to push, she didn't have the nerve to. Didn't want to accidentally push him away completely.
Some days she sleeps too much, others she sleeps too little. She's tired, weary. She doesn't even feel like playing her violin, or doing her Bible study. She misses him, terribly. Still at a loss of what to do about it all. Methuselah will be returning to town soon enough, and there'll be plenty to do. More people will likely be coming to this place. But for now, she sits on her cot, mindlessly scribbling — killing time. There's too much of it.
It takes her a beat to register the voice, gazing lifting from her notebook and eyes fluttering in comprehension. Kate inhales, breath catching in her throat — expression blooming into an open stun. There's a long moment where she just... takes him in, a startling lack of most of uniform and gun — it's so... different, from how she last saw him. ]
Lieutenant Little. [ Another voice, accidentally spoken: 'Edward.' He'll hear it, although she doesn't mean for him to. She's spurned into movement, rising from her cot but then frozen in her stun as she stares up at him. He's here.
Her hands come together, wringing them a little as she stand there. Her eyes are wet, there's fretfulness but relief — some small quivering sliver of it in her breaths as he speaks. Finally, she nods: a walk. The tiniest hints of a smile manages to coax her lips. ]
I'd like that.
[ She really would. And she bites back emotion, looks down to retrieve her coat, scarf and gloves — hands shaking a little as she pulls them on. But once she's bundled up enough against the cold, there's a tiny nod to say she's ready, and she's quietly walking out with him.
Once outside, she doesn't... know where to start. Or if she should let him start, and her hands are back to twisting themselves as she walks beside him. For a long moment, her mind is completely blank of thoughts. Her throat feels tight, and her mouth presses to a thin line — gaze lowering to concentrate on where she walks for the longest time.
She has to say something, she has to. ]
Are... you okay?
tears on the menu tonight, boys!!
And he's heard Kate's.... second voice, although he couldn't make sense of it and wasn't in the mindset to be able to even push through and grasp onto his concern and worry as to the matter. Back at La'an's funeral....
But in the moment, it's that little echo of a smile Kate sends him that he focuses to, and he doesn't conceal his relief that she's accepting his offer; it shows in his eyes, the way they soften, understanding. He nods and waits for her to be ready and then they're stepping into the crisp chill.
Edward's quiet too, to begin with. His heart's nervous, painfully aware of everything it wants to say and needs to say and not knowing at all how to begin. He's had opportunities in this place to mend so many things — or at least to try to, or at least to.... apologise to those he has wronged. It never gets easier, no matter how many times it happens. To know that he's hurt someone is.... a very particular and very familiar ache.
But then Kate's asking him a question, and that anxious heart within him melts a little. Of course she would voice concern for him, even as much as he's wounded her. The man dips his head forwards a little as he walks, movements guiding them through the town, quiet this time of day. ]
In truth, I have not been well.
[ It isn't easy to say this (and not to her, someone he knows has suffered from her own ghosts and pains), but he owes her the truth, and he will give it, no matter how much speaking about such things breaches any of the norms he is used to. ]
There has been much.... heaviness in me, Miss Marsh. I know now that this place has been... exacerbating it, but that heaviness has been within me for.... a very long time. Since my arrival here, and even before it.
[ He nudges his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he walks, slowly. ]
I have felt myself progressively becoming... consumed by the melancholy. It has been all I could see. I—.... even now, I am... I feel very heavy.
[ He frowns, some part of him still feeling the discomfort of speaking about such things, but the other part (and the bigger part) aching to be saying this to Kate, specifically. He doesn't want to worry her, or upset her. She doesn't deserve any more of it, but.. he knows he needs to confide this to her. To explain. ]
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She agrees about this place making things worse with a short nod, her brow pinching in worry. Plenty of other people have been... getting kinda dark, lately. Wynonna sitting in her cabin, with the door left open and the fire almost out. Eddie sprawled on his couch alone, listless. She's... had her work cut out for her, trying to gently coax them out of it. It's been like... the January Blues, but like... a million times worse.
And she knows what it's like, sometimes. When she has days she can't get out of her cot, days when she just... doesn't want to exist. Days when she remembers that there's nothing for her back home but a rooftop, but she's here and somehow she has to keep going because she's still alive.
And the Lieutenant too — she closes her eyes briefly, almost scolding herself silently. He's been like that, too. Like Wynonna and Eddie, she thinks. ... She should have tried opening the door, she should've tried hard than she did. She wishes she tried harder. He deserves that. But it's— it's more than that: Since my arrival here, and even before it. ]
Because of the Expedition. [ Not a question, but a careful statement. ] Everything... going how it did. People... sick and starving and... dying.
[ In different ways, she knows now. She looks up to him briefly, her expression grim. Yes, she knows. Her brow pinches again, and she has to take a breath to fight back the sting of tears. She knows what happened to Mr Goodsir, and it still hurts. But she continues, head tilting slightly in thought. He had... next to no choices left. Just that one. ]
And... you're a Lieutenant. [ Someone with authority over those men. Responsibility. ] I can't imagine how hard that would be to carry, but— I would guess that would be a lot for anyone.
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Yes. [ He affirms softly, sadly; 'Because of the Expedition. Everything... going how it did. People... sick and starving and... dying.' All of those things, the horrors of them; it's.... been weighing on him. Eroding him away, slowly, over time. He continues to gaze to the ground for a few moments before he slowly looks back up to Kate, still walking alongside her, but very slowly so that his breath is for his words, his focus on them. ]
My ranking.... among the lieutenants, I was the first. And therefore the captain's second. [ It isn't a brag by any means, only an explanation, and he draws in a slow, steadying breath, knowing his own words are going to ache almost unbearably. He had more authority than almost anyone else on those ships. More responsibility. And he.... ]
....I failed them. The men. The captain. During the times I was left in command by him, I.... I was not enough. I see that now. And... there was so much suffering. As his second, I am to blame for so much of it.
[ The confession hurts deeply, and is difficult to explain, and he struggles with it now, hands tightening, fingers brushing over his thumbs slow and intentional, again and again, as he attempts some self-soothing of his own. ]
I failed to protect those I was meant to protect. Some of those men are here now, with us. And for some time, I have thought... perhaps I could.... not undo what was done, but.... do all I could so that their ghosts here are protected, and safe, and do not know the suffering they knew then.
[ He's watched out for Jopson especially, but he's kept his eye on the others, as well. Goodsir, Gibson, Crozier — he's tried to take care of them. Not to be forgiven or be absolved of his guilt; he knows those things will never happen and he knows he doesn't deserve them to. ]
I have sought to do that for all of the people here, in this community. All of you— my heart has wanted nothing more than to keep you all safe. I thought if I kept true to my rank, if I held onto Lieutenant Little, that he could.... protect you. [ His eyes tighten as he looks to Kate, voice faltering with emotion that catches at the back of his throat, and he swallows. ]
I have tried, but when Lieutenant Noonien-Singh was killed, I—.. I was reminded once more that it is not enough. That everything I have held onto.... it has been foolish. I have been foolish to believe I could be what I.... thought I was. To believe that remaining Lieutenant Little would mean anything so substantial in this place. Once more, others have suffered because of me.
[ He closes his eyes for a moment, aching with loathing of himself. Why is he even here? Why not one of the other men instead, someone who could actually do some good for these people? Commander Fitzjames, Lieutenant Gore; why has he been given a second chance and not those great men? When Edward peels open his eyes again to look at her, they're heavy, wet — miserable. ]
You have also suffered because of me. I am so... deeply sorry, Miss Marsh, for what I have done. I abandoned you when you needed me, and I— I failed you. [ He pauses with a shuddery, wet sound, some part of him aware he's saying a lot, sharing a lot more than is probably appropriate, revealing his emotions, but— this is Kate. She's different, she's something especial to his heart, he— ]
You mean a very great deal to me. To know that I hurt you— My heart aches unbearably. It feels as though it may break.
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I failed them. The men. The captain. During the times I was left in command by him, I.... I was not enough. Her head lifts and she shakes it. No, she doesn't believe that, and she's quick to speak up. ]
But... you were in circumstances beyond your control. I mean... the ships were stuck, and you were trapped there for years. Starving, and getting poisoned by your own food. [ There's also the... uh, bear spirit that Goodsir mentioned. But she omits that part, not really knowing if it's entirely relevant. But like... bear spirits, that's definitely not normal. Still, what she's mentioned is worse enough — how is anyone to supposed to deal with any of that? ]
You were... in an impossible situation. [ He would have tried his best, she doesn't doubt that. Tried in an impossible and messed up situation. The fact he tried at all means something. She doesn't think he's to blame for struggling in all of that. ] And... and this place should be impossible. Being taken from our worlds, monsters and... all of that stuff. You can't, like, hold yourself to that — that's not fair on you.
[ Even with what happened with La'an, with whatever terrible thing took her. How could he have stopped something like that? How could any of them? He's one man in the face of impossible things, forces beyond anything she's ever seen. But he's not powerless, he's not nothing. He's not failing people, causing suffering. She doesn't believe that. Not him. She slows to a stop, staring up at him for a long moment. ]
You didn't fail me. I don't think that, not for one second. You've... you've done a whole lot for me, you know? I... I wouldn't... be here if it wasn't for you. [ It's a blunt admission, but like... it's not wrong. Kate knows if he hadn't helped her into town, if he hadn't talked her down from the ledge — she'd be long gone by now. No one asked him to, no one told him he had to do any of it — but he made it his... well, duty, she guesses. ]
I— I'm sorry I did try harder when I came over. I should have, and I really wish I had. You deserved that. [ Internally, Kate scolds herself. She wishes she'd been more insistent. That she'd... gosh, she doesn't even know. Kicked his door down or something, like something Wynonna or Ruby would do — even if she probably couldn't kick a door down to save her life. There's a little shake of her head, the idea of it — her doing something like that — sounds so dumb. ]
Lieutenant Little and Edward Little aren't so different, you're still the same man. You can still be you. [ Lieutenant Little means something to her, and maybe part of her is selfish for leaning on it — when everything else scares her to death and is just a mess. Is it unfair of her to hold onto it?
Emotion shifts in her face, tears prickling at her eyes. She exhales hard, mouth twisting to one side briefly. Very slowly, she holds her hand out — wanting to take his hand. ]
If you want forgiveness, then you've already got it. [ It... goes without saying. Of course he has it, for any wrong he thinks he's done against her. ] You matter. You still matter. You matter to me.
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Something. Anything, his mind still insists. He can't stop loathing himself for it. And for everything to come here, in this place. Still... Kate's words are sensible, and true, and he can see that, head tipping forwards in a slow nod. ]
There were.... so many things that went wrong. I do see that now. I am not certain that any one action from any one man could have saved us.
[ It would have had to be multiples of them, coming together, staying on the same page, but... it could not be. They cracked, fell, one by one by one. Some sick, some mad, some aching more than others. And even if they had all stayed together until the very end.... would it have mattered? They were going to starve. To rot away and die.
But at least they would have died as men, and not monsters. ]
But I... was not as strong as I should have been. There, nor here.
[ He shakes his head with a soft exhale. He won't burden her with the specifics, and in truth is afraid to reveal them, even now. She has met Thomas Jopson. What would she think of the man who left him to suffer and die alone? Who betrayed the captain's final orders? Who abandoned himself as much as he abandoned those relying on him?
But he's looking up as Kate continues, eyes widening at the girl's own honesty in the face of his own. Things that aren't easy to hear and certainly aren't easy for her to say — that she wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, and his heart tightens like a closed fist. He's stopped walking, turning to face her now, staring as he sees the sparkle of wet glittering in her eyes, emotion leaking forth. Edward listens to her continue, each word a small but deep pang within his chest, and then her hand is lifting, and he realises why. He shudders softly with his own emotion, something barely kept back, eyes wet in the face of her own.
'You matter. You still matter. You matter to me.'
This time, a hand is offered to him. This time, he gently lifts his own in response, fingers finding Kate's, giving another trembling exhale of breath. She forgives him — and there's a sort of acceptance to the act, the gesture. ]
You did as much as you could. I can see now that there were... forces at work. Things affecting me. I could see only those things, and nothing else. [ The shadowed thing that followed him... Even if Kate would have broken down that door and stormed in like Wynonna Earp, he would have stayed turned away from her. The thought of it breaks his heart, and he gives the girl's hand a soft squeeze, voice trembling a little. He has to swallow around some of the words, take pauses inbetween them. ]
That you came to me at all... that someone came to find me... If ever I feel so lost again, that will be what I remember. You, at my door. For that, I cannot thank you enough. I— I have felt very alone, for a very long time, but you remind me that I am not.
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[ Kate can't speak of the Expedition. She wasn't there, after all. But she doesn't doubt that he didn't try his best there in such a terrible, impossible situation. And maybe she'll never fully find out. It's a hard one to really know either way. But it's okay.
What she can speak of is the time in which she's know him. Their own relationship over the past several months. And for her...? He's done... so much for her. He's been there for her, even when she didn't ask him to. Even when no one asked him to. He took it upon himself, right from the very start, and tried his best and she's so grateful for that — for everything he's done for her. She wishes she could show him that better.
He takes her hand, and she manages a small, sad smile. Gently squeezes it back after he does.
But she... understands. She gets it. Guilt is a powerful feeling. She knows how easy it is to be gripped by it, and it's a grip that is hard to shake off. It's a feel that comes as easy as breathing to her. Guilt and shame, even when she knows that it was other people who created the situation for her.
And she understands what he means by 'forces at work'. He hasn't been the only one she knows who's... had something weird and heavy going on. Eddie had been sat alone in his cabin, like he'd given up. Wynonna sat alone in hers, the door open and fire barely embers. She hates this, she really does. She doesn't understand why these things are happening, it's not fair. ]
Of course I would. [ Come to find him. It hadn't been right, not seeing him. His absence didn't feel right. And he matters, matters enough she came to call. ] You don't need to thank me for that.
[ Her brow pinches at the last thing he says, and she inhales shakily with the upset. It hurts to hear it. That he's felt alone. It's a strange sting and ache all at once, and Kate's still for a moment trying to grapple with it. She looks up at him, and something shifts in her.
Very gently, she lets go of his hand. Instead, she moves toward him, closing the space between them to embrace him. Her arms raise a little, wrapping around his middle as she presses her face into his chest. She's quiet for a moment, just holding onto him, before she shifts her head to one side a little to speak. Her voice hushed, crackling a little: ]
No, you're not alone. I hope you don't forget that.
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Ah. The words catch him, stun him — not unwelcomed, certainly not that. But it's so unexpected to hear such a thing. Truly, it catches him off-guard and he just stands there for a moment, speechless.
He.... did try his best. Deep in his heart, Edward Little knows that. The horror, the guilt, the remorse, comes from the fact that it wasn't enough, that his best couldn't be enough for those men, or even for himself. That he would never have been able to be anything more. That he lacked some strength that a better man could have possessed. That perhaps a better man could have done more, if he stood where Little was, instead. Perhaps another man could have saved them. Done something. Done better.
He still feels that way, but.... it means something to hear someone say that they think he's enough. That one person doesn't see him as failing, or less, or lacking. 'I never once thought you weren't enough.'
He believes her, this kind, sincere girl who believes in him so much. And perhaps that is where a new type of strength can be born, can blossom, grow. Even if he still flinches back from his own reflection at the mirror, avoiding the deep dark ache of his own gaze, even if his stomach still twists and his heart stings and he feels the unbearable coldness of so many ghosts, always, even if he loathes so much of himself.... there is someone who believes in him, and he must keep trying for her.
It stirs forth memory of sitting on a bed with his shotgun so close, and everything around him so heavy and hurting, and Kieren Walker telling him that he has to keep trying — 'You can't stop suffering, Edward. But you can be there for people, you can be with them through it.'
There are people he still has to protect.
He's still reeling a little from the words when he realises that Kate is moving, slowly, quietly — closer, and then there are arms wrapping around him and the soft pressure of the girl against his chest, and he's giving a shaky exhale. He can't recall the last time he was embraced, the last time anyone came so close and wrapped themselves tight and warm to him, closing any distance. It's foreign — for a moment he doesn't know what to do with himself, but then it comes, nothing unnatural but the only thing that feels right in response.
His own arms slowly slip around Kate, and it's gently at first, carefully, but then he feels himself holding on more tightly, returning the embrace with a soft sound, the hot sting of his eyes welling enough that he needs to close them, and so he does. And he stands there like that, lets himself seek the comfort that Kate is providing to him; for so long maybe he's needed it. Needed to be held.
Gently his head tips a little, and his own words are quiet, wet — and warm. ]
Thank you.