[ He rarely — if ever — considers what he wants. What's important is what is necessary, what is right, what aligns with one's responsibility and obligation.
It's probably for the best that she does turn away from him. He's a black hole; everything and everyone he's tried to help ends up ruined. Maybe once it wasn't the case — but it is now. He's a shell of whatever man he once was, and he isn't... strong, isn't good, isn't anything worth protecting. And there will surely be repercussions for what he's done; it would be better in that sense too if she held no association with him here...
But she won't, and he doesn't want her to, and he sits reeling quietly from it all, staring down at her when she returns from setting her picture back, telling him that she isn't going anywhere.
Loyalty. Why is she so steadfastly loyal to him? Him? Is it for those same reasons he is, to her? There's so much he can't define, so much that's confusing, but stripped down to the core of everything, it's just — the thing that they keep coming back to, again and again. They're important to one another. It sounds so simple, too simple, but that's what it is, beneath anything else it may be.
'There's no side of you I'm gonna turn away from, okay?'
And he believes her. What a dangerous thought — and one that aches, and one that he holds onto with a desperate tightness. Someone who would never abandon him, even when it's every single thing he deserves.
(She's a killer. What happened with her father was no... no fault of hers, she was only a girl, it wasn't fair, a gunshot that struck the wrong man, but — she'd killed more men, and these intentionally. He doesn't know how many.
Does it matter? Does he actually think killer when he looks down into this woman's eyes? No. Maybe he should, but he can't. Of course he can't. Whatever else Wynonna may be, she's good. He would trust her with anything. He would defend her without question.) ]
Please, worry not for my sake. I'll catch my breath for a while, and then return shortly. Make certain that others are all right, and—
[ He needs to... deal with Mikel (but no, he can't even think of that, not really. It steals his breath with another odd shudder; the words cut off). He finally lifts his arms, hands moving to the arms of the rocking chair, as though to make movement to stand. Everything feels so heavy, sore, strange through the weight of emotions spilled and red eyes, and a heart heavy for her pains as much as his own. He still, somehow, can't quite find embarrassment through the variety of emotions within him, maybe that will come later, but for now — he isn't embarrassed.
He bared his soul and she bared hers right back. He's never experienced it before. Not like this. His voice lowers again, soft beneath the hoarse edge. ]
...I'm sure you must be exhausted, yourself. You should try to find rest, as well. I'll not disturb you.
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It's probably for the best that she does turn away from him. He's a black hole; everything and everyone he's tried to help ends up ruined. Maybe once it wasn't the case — but it is now. He's a shell of whatever man he once was, and he isn't... strong, isn't good, isn't anything worth protecting. And there will surely be repercussions for what he's done; it would be better in that sense too if she held no association with him here...
But she won't, and he doesn't want her to, and he sits reeling quietly from it all, staring down at her when she returns from setting her picture back, telling him that she isn't going anywhere.
Loyalty. Why is she so steadfastly loyal to him? Him? Is it for those same reasons he is, to her? There's so much he can't define, so much that's confusing, but stripped down to the core of everything, it's just — the thing that they keep coming back to, again and again. They're important to one another. It sounds so simple, too simple, but that's what it is, beneath anything else it may be.
'There's no side of you I'm gonna turn away from, okay?'
And he believes her. What a dangerous thought — and one that aches, and one that he holds onto with a desperate tightness. Someone who would never abandon him, even when it's every single thing he deserves.
(She's a killer. What happened with her father was no... no fault of hers, she was only a girl, it wasn't fair, a gunshot that struck the wrong man, but — she'd killed more men, and these intentionally. He doesn't know how many.
Does it matter? Does he actually think killer when he looks down into this woman's eyes? No. Maybe he should, but he can't. Of course he can't. Whatever else Wynonna may be, she's good. He would trust her with anything. He would defend her without question.) ]
Please, worry not for my sake. I'll catch my breath for a while, and then return shortly. Make certain that others are all right, and—
[ He needs to... deal with Mikel (but no, he can't even think of that, not really. It steals his breath with another odd shudder; the words cut off). He finally lifts his arms, hands moving to the arms of the rocking chair, as though to make movement to stand. Everything feels so heavy, sore, strange through the weight of emotions spilled and red eyes, and a heart heavy for her pains as much as his own. He still, somehow, can't quite find embarrassment through the variety of emotions within him, maybe that will come later, but for now — he isn't embarrassed.
He bared his soul and she bared hers right back. He's never experienced it before. Not like this. His voice lowers again, soft beneath the hoarse edge. ]
...I'm sure you must be exhausted, yourself. You should try to find rest, as well. I'll not disturb you.