[ He looks up at her, and her hand falls back away to her side without ever having landed back on the soft, tangled mess of his hair. Her other hand moves restlessly, fingers curling in and relaxing again, rubbing against each other, feeling strangely empty before she takes the photo when he offers it back to her. Then I am not alone, he agrees, even though she still has no idea how or why her company might be useful to him at all. And neither are you.
And neither are you.
They shook on it, last time. This time, she takes the photo and sets it carefully aside, then slowly sinks down once again in front of him, back to her knees, letting him look down at her instead of craning his neck to look up. His beautiful voice is ruined with tears and exhaustion and a cracked throat, but the richness still lends each word new weight, and she believes him. He's never lied to her; he might be the only one who hasn't.
That one curling lock of hair sweeps over his forehead and eye. She could reach up to tuck it back. Maybe she could let her touch linger; she could lean a little closer. She can't help but think of that moment in the woods, Levi and Fish and their deaths weighing on her, arguing with Doc about whether or not she's a killer, what happened next. The need for touch runs through her like an addict's desperation for the next hit, but— he's not Doc. He's something else, something new to her; she sees herself in him and she knows she can never measure up to his opinion of her, and she wants to try anyway.
She nods, lowering to sit on the floor, one knee up, her arm looping around it. Every part of her aches with exhaustion, gravity dragging at her bones. He looks as bad as she feels, worn and weary, his eyes red and swollen from his tears. He could probably use some water. She badly wants a drink. ]
You once told me there was a side to you that you wished I hadn’t seen. But screw that. There's no side of you I'm gonna turn away from, okay? Even the shitty ones. Even this one. So quit trying to push me away. I'm not going anywhere. You have me, too.
[ She reaches up to rub a hand over her face, then gives him a wry look, taking in the deep lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes, the nervous energy that's keeping him going. ]
no subject
And neither are you.
They shook on it, last time. This time, she takes the photo and sets it carefully aside, then slowly sinks down once again in front of him, back to her knees, letting him look down at her instead of craning his neck to look up. His beautiful voice is ruined with tears and exhaustion and a cracked throat, but the richness still lends each word new weight, and she believes him. He's never lied to her; he might be the only one who hasn't.
That one curling lock of hair sweeps over his forehead and eye. She could reach up to tuck it back. Maybe she could let her touch linger; she could lean a little closer. She can't help but think of that moment in the woods, Levi and Fish and their deaths weighing on her, arguing with Doc about whether or not she's a killer, what happened next. The need for touch runs through her like an addict's desperation for the next hit, but— he's not Doc. He's something else, something new to her; she sees herself in him and she knows she can never measure up to his opinion of her, and she wants to try anyway.
She nods, lowering to sit on the floor, one knee up, her arm looping around it. Every part of her aches with exhaustion, gravity dragging at her bones. He looks as bad as she feels, worn and weary, his eyes red and swollen from his tears. He could probably use some water. She badly wants a drink. ]
You once told me there was a side to you that you wished I hadn’t seen. But screw that. There's no side of you I'm gonna turn away from, okay? Even the shitty ones. Even this one. So quit trying to push me away. I'm not going anywhere. You have me, too.
[ She reaches up to rub a hand over her face, then gives him a wry look, taking in the deep lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes, the nervous energy that's keeping him going. ]
Dude, you need to rest. You're running on fumes.