Welcome to Gaia! ::

Eventually she might tell Kostya, what it meant to her that she knew that. When she was running with someone else's blood on her hands. In the tense too quiets. Even as she backhanded Franklin over a look. She knew he wouldn't think less of her for it. That there was every chance everyone else would, herself included, but he wouldn't turn away. It meant more than America could possibly articulate, now or maybe ever, to know that she could come back to him.

Maybe that's what Taym had meant all along, when he talked of stability.

And at his words, she risked a cautious glance in the direction of the other bed and caught the motion and that was it. Whatever stiff upper lip she'd been attempting flooded out, leaving her small and trembling and young. "I was so scared," America admitted, voice small and breaking off into shuddering gasps. She wanted to thank them. For going and for staying and for trust and for right now. But nothing made it past the ugly, painful sobs that had been building for nearly a week. Maybe more. She'd missed home so much.

He watched them, watched her unwind, and instead of the blossom of resentment he'd been expecting there was only a sort of tired apathy, an empty space around which he shaped something that he thought might have been relief, and might have been the dregs of dread.

He wanted many, many things in that moment and one of them was the capacity to be jealous, but none of them were things he could have and the one thing he knew that he did not want was to disrupt whatever comfort Kostya could give her. There'd be space for him later, and maybe she'd be angry at him now and maybe she wouldn't even notice but he watched Kostya, who had once cringed and flinched even harder than Taym from any contact, wrap his arms around her, and he simply wanted to let them be without any distractions.

He tucked his cigarettes and his lighter into the pocket of his infirmary-issue flannel, and then reached for the cane they'd given him amid his flat, sarcastic commentary, but he touched his fingertips to hers as he squeezed past them towards the door, and said: "I'll leave you two alone for a while. I'll be back," he added, because he still believed (and what a strange and fascinating and wonderful thing to believe) that they wanted to hear it.

(That she wanted to hear it.)

America's grip was too-tight in the way they always held on to each other, but more. It almost felt a little like she was afraid he wouldn't be there if she let go. As Taym left, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, settling in against her. It was... disappointing, that he'd chosen that time to evacuate, although not entirely unexpected. Kostya had tried. He would, in the future, continue to try and include him with minimal exclusion, although he expected for those attempts to fail as well.

Kostya wanted to tell her a thousand tales to help her forget. But he also wanted her to resolve her thoughts more fully now, so they would not surprise and consume her at a later time. Maybe there was a fine balance between the two.

Kostya turned the words 'I was me when it mattered' over again and again in his mind, until they were smooth like river stones. Even though there was another force in his mind, moving pieces for him on his mental chessboard, Kostya knew that America's held some merit. He had been himself killing those humans, watching Jane, helping Vivienne, teaching the clones the mannerisms he knew so well. Kostya had done those things. It was food for thought.

"I love you," he said, "I vas scared too. I have not be so scared in months. Not since Szsceony shot me. But it vas you, and I expected to see your body every step of the way, because it vas a possibility, and I vas scared."

It was unbearable, to see her reduced to this. It was even more so to stare at the infirmary ceiling, waiting for her and Edith to finish talking.

You won't, he said, faith in her unshaken. He had so many doubts about Deus at times, despite the rigidity it gave him, and the idea of someone taking America away was enough to make him plan for the worst.