5055034455 | [exsilium] contact

I'm trying to help people! All you care about is yourself.

[That's not true and she knows it, but she wants to hurt him as much as he's hurting her and that's all she's got.]

I must be crazy, then. Isn't that what it is when you keep doing the same damn thing and expecting different results?

[She feels awful but she doesn't know how to stop.]

[And that just makes him laugh.

How can she even say that with a straight face?]

God, I wish. This would all be so much easier if I didn't give a damn about any of you. But no — here I am, standing in the middle of the hallway, trying to get you to believe that my life here is nothing at all like what it was back home. It's better. And not just because I can put my past a whole millennium and an entire universe behind me, but because I care about people here and they care about me and maybe this won't come as a surprise, all things considered, but that's kinda new.

[Fuck him.]

Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? People probably didn't care about you 'cause you thought poisoning a kid was an okay thing to do.

[And maybe she would've felt bad for him before this, but she's too angry and hurt to think about Saul's feelings right now. Maybe that makes her as bad as him.]

Why didn't you just lie?

[She might even have believed it, except for how she didn't at all when Jesse tried to tell her.]

I didn't want to.

[He shrugs; it's a simple enough answer, and true, and it doesn't give anything away.]

Your turn. What's the worst thing you've ever done?

I got hundreds of people killed trying to prove myself to a man who was just using me to get his son back.

[She says it flatly, looking anywhere but at Saul. He wants to know the worst thing she's ever done? Fine.]

I started a gang war and as soon as I realized what I'd done, I tried to fix it, and all it got me was hours of torture at the hands of a sadist and being kicked out on the street for Batman to find, like a broken toy.

[Isn't that what Sionis wanted her to tell Bruce? To thank him for the playthings.]

When I woke up months later all I could think was that I wished he'd just killed me, so I wouldn't have to live with the guilt.

[Nothing Steph says surprises him anymore. He watches her while she speaks, expression neutral and unchanging.

Sounds like she fucked up real bad.

Therein lies his point.]

So you made a mistake and it cost you. How is that any different from what I did and what's happened as a result?

I never got into bed with criminals.

[Even when she could have saved some pain by telling Sionis what he wanted to know, she wouldn't help him.]

[That's a really poor choice of words. If Saul really wanted to be the asshole she thinks he is...

In the end, he has no real response. He can't argue, he can't refute it. She's right. And she has every right to be as angry with him as she is.

This is when he finally moves closer by a few tiny steps.]

What do you want me to do, Steph?

[What he's really asking is how can I fix this?]

[She nearly hits him again, because she's got her back against a wall and he's stepping closer, but she forces herself to stay still, keeps her hands curled into fists at her side.]

I don't know if there's anything you can do.

[That's what it really comes down to, she's angry because she feels betrayed, because she can't trust him anymore, and she doesn't know if she can forgive him for any of this.]

[He hates the way he seems to cycle through this with so many people. Okay, then not okay, then better, then somehow worse. But she knows the worst of it now, so maybe this is the last time.

Then again, that's assuming they'll bounce back from this like they have everything else, and he doesn't think he's that lucky.

Saul doesn't move any closer. He sees her fists, can read her body language well enough by now. Getting slapped hurt. If she punches him, it'll show for a week, maybe two. But this is Saul we're talking about — Saul in the presence of Stephanie — and now that most of the anger has faded and left nothing but sad exhaustion in its place, he can't let her go on looking the way she does.

So he lifts a hand to wipe some of that wetness from her cheeks and says, again, as though this will help anything:] I'm sorry.

[Her breath shudders, a painful drag of air when he touches her and she knows she should step away or maybe even hit him again, but she finds herself closing her eyes instead, tension draining from her shoulders.

He says he's sorry and all she wants is to be able to believe him, but while it might be possible one day, it's out of reach right now.]

So am I.

[She doesn't know if she means that she's sorry about what he did, too, or if she's apologizing for her own actions.]

[There's his green light. His hand lingers a few seconds longer before he dares to try to pull her into a hug — and if she lets him, she'll find that her forehead is getting kissed, too. She can be as mad at him or as disappointed in him as she likes, forever and ever and ever if she can manage it that long, and that's just fine with him because he'll probably never stop feeling like he deserves it.

He deserves to feel like shit; she doesn't. Especially not because of him.

So how many of their conversations have dissolved into tearful apologies for nothing and for everything, at this point?]

[She hates whatever part of her it is that moves into the hug, sinks into it, really, because she wishes she were better than this. She wishes this didn't seem to be a repeating pattern with her and Saul, even if this is so much worse than each other time before.

This time, when her fingers curl into his jacket, there's no anger in the gesture; it's more like desperation.

There's probably some irony in the fact that last time they were together, he held onto her to cry, and now she's doing the same to him.]

[Saul doesn't hate any part of her. Not even a little bit.

He holds her close, holds her tight, strokes her hair, and will stay here — in the middle of the damn hallway — as long as it takes her to either stop crying or decide that she doesn't want his arms around her anymore.

He hopes the former comes first and the latter comes... well. Preferably never.]

[It takes her a little while, but eventually she manages to stop crying and even out her breathing. She should pull back, pull away from him, but all that happens is that her grip on his jacket loosens a little.]

Why does this keep happening?

[Not just with him. This feels like something that keeps happening.]

[Because she has too much faith in people, even after everything she's been through. That's what Saul thinks this all boils down to, and on some level, he's guilty of the same exact thing — otherwise, this scene wouldn't be playing out the way it is, with Saul sighing and kissing her head a few more times because past events have proven that to be the most effective approach...!]

I dunno, Steph.

[Whatever the reason, she's pretty sure it's also why she's still here, instead of having walked away so much earlier in this argument.]

I keep wanting to blame other people, but there's only one common factor, here.

[Maybe she's just broken.]

You're a good person, neshomeleh. It's not your fault.

[Despite what he said earlier, when he wanted to make her feel as shitty as she made him feel. Similar as he might think they are, he really believes that she's good; and he believes he's a good person, too, in some ways. It's easy to overlook all that when a discovery like you helped poison a kid is made.

But he's trying.]

[She should tell him not to call her that, but she should also tell him to stop holding her, and she should definitely not be here, so what does it matter?]

That's not what you were saying before.

[It's not fair to point it out, when he was probably just trying to get her back for the way she was hurting him with her words, but she doesn't know what else to say.]

Edited (sighs) 2013-08-30 14:22 (UTC)

I know what I said.

[He doesn't know what else to say, either, except for another "I'm sorry" that's lost in a mumble against her hair.]

[Yeah, she knows what she said, too, and none of it changes anything.

It's selfish and stupid and why she keeps ending up in situations like this, but for a little while she pretends that there's nothing wrong, that she doesn't know Saul helped poison a kid, that they weren't just trying to tear each other apart with words. She just rests her forehead against his collarbone and holds on and breathes.

After long moments, and in a quiet voice:] I want to go home.

[Real home, not apartment #104. She wants the Babs that she knows better, she wants Cass, her mom, even Tim. She doesn't want to be in Exsilium anymore.]

[He doesn't. Because she's not there, because he'll probably end up dead-for-good, because he's pretty sure returning to life as he knew it six months ago means none of this ever happened and he won't remember a thing.

He might be miserable right now, but he's had more genuinely happy moments in this dump than he did back in ABQ — even when he was up to his eyes in Walter's money.

It seems so cliche when he thinks about it like that. Kidnapped from his own world and tossed into a war zone with next to nothing and bam, all of a sudden he's reevaluating his priorities and feeling guilt and regret and trying to figure out what it is he really, really wants out of life.

Ugh.

Talk about a mid-life crisis.]

I think people get sent back, sometimes. So maybe. A lot of us would miss you, though.

[A lot of us would miss you, and although she probably shouldn't be thinking of Ellie right now, that's where her thoughts go. How can she want to go home when she'd be leaving Ellie behind? She hates that she's even thinking about going home, but everything here just hurts too much.

Maybe she's the coward.]

You'd be better off without me.

[Is that true? She doesn't know anymore.]

I wouldn't be. I dunno about anyone else.

[He's thinking of Ellie, too, actually.

And all the other people who've come to count on Steph for something. Saul doesn't know who they all are, but he's sure the list of names is long.

He combs his fingers through her hair, idly and gently undoing some of the knots she'd created by tugging at it earlier.]

Who else is gonna deliver booze to my window or threaten to steal my cat? I mean, someone else could try, but it wouldn't be the same.

[She can't see it, but he's sure she can hear him smiling.]

[Between his fingers in her hair, how exhausted she feels, and the stupid lines, she actually laughs. It's not much more than a huff of breath, but it's more genuine than the humourless laugh earlier.

This is so fucking stupid.]

I'm gonna take that cat one day, seriously.

[Just to spite him.

And after a pause, she adds:]

Can I ask you something?

[This is stupid, too, but after all the reveals and secrets being dragged out, there's something she's curious about.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject