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ashes to ashes


She was right; Bix had come back, even if it had taken a while for Gale to realize that he was still alive, to admit to himself that he was real and that he still existed. But he still remembered being curled up Candace's bed, her arms around him, her gentle whispers in his ear as he'd fallen apart, piece by piece.

Cool fingers slipped the cigarette from his own; Gale dragged himself out of the memories and brushed his hand over Stormy's temple in idle gestures.

"I don't know," he said softly. "The...my eye, I suppose, is a part of it."

He hadn't told her yet what had happened, because she hadn't asked, and he hadn't wanted to burden her with something else on top of the pain that seemed to be in her very veins. There was no way she wasn't wondering, but it had seemed a little small, almost inconsequential compared to his desire to be as supportive as possible for Stormy.

Gale exhaled a breath and smiled a little at her, the smell of smoke drifting up to meet his nose.

mechanisms

Tuck had been laying low, for all intents and purposes. He'd spent a healthy chunk of time feeling guilty for what he'd put everyone through, and admittedly there were still times that he loathed himself. Sometimes it was easier to be alone and he'd come to terms with that. He was still living in his own dorm room, and he was fine with it. It was easier that way.

"Good," Tuck answered for himself, watching Stormy carefully. The near frenetic way she moved put him a little on edge - the nicotine that barely lingered on the air only compounded that feeling. Tuck kept silent; if Evan wanted to say something, he could. There was a thin veil of fragility that seemed to shroud Stormy, and the big Moon couldn't put his thumb on it.

So, instead of causing trouble - and in order to preserve the desperate sense of normalcy that pervaded the room - Tuck remained silent.

"How you been, little bit?"

ashes to ashes

She didn't understand the little smile or what it was doing there and averted her eyes back down to the stick she was inadvertently chewing. Bitter tastes flooded her mouth. She tugged the cigarette out by his fingers and let their elbows sit where they would for the moment while she tried not to pucker her face in response; it was a step up from accidentally crying. Ash tray, Stormy belatedly remembered. But that would require getting up.

Like water, she poured herself in and sought the crack. "Wanna talk about it?"

ashes to ashes


He didn't understand the smile himself either; it was more just a tired reaction, involuntary at best.

"My eye?" Gale asked, the puckered expression on Stormy's face making him a little anxious, a little wary. He wondered if she was dissatisfied with his answers, not that he could blame her, considering he was dissatisfied with his own. He felt there was no right answer here, tripping over his own two feet. The desperate desire to help her, to stay with her, remained within him, a slow burn.

His hand lifted, touched the eyepatch that, while not strictly necessary to wear, made him feel a little better anyway about his blurred vision.

"It was a Horseman," said Gale softly, by way of simple explanation. "She took me captive for a few days, but I managed to get out. I can still see, it's just, it's a little blurry, is all."

He rubbed at it. "A lot blurry, I suppose. I'm still trying to get used to it, but I'll manage."

ashes to ashes

It was a risk, asking to hear about it. Stormy had an awful habit of absorbing too much of what was around her, from the happiness of a simple hang out with friends that permeated the walls long after to the cycle of sadness and apathy she had soaked into the very air, humid and hard to breathe. Horseman was enough for her to take, judging by the hitch in her breath. Captive for a few days. Blurry. And she had, what, been sitting alone doing God only knew?

The taste became too bitter. She wanted to toss the cigarette out and scream as she crushed it under her bare foot. She wanted something to burn her for her crimes until she felt absolved and pure again.

Stormy sat up a little, sunken eyes bright, and touched his cheek below the bandage, letting him hold the cigarette on his own. "I-I'm sorry," she said in a thick voice. "Gale--" She blinked and the tears were one step closer to the edge, her breathing that much more uneven. She could have been there. She should have been there.

roots

"I-I think so." It was so hard for her to make concrete decisions that even when presented with a better alternative to her current situation, Stormy hesitated. She opened her mouth to continue, then decided the distance no longer was necessary. Gale's opinion mattered, maybe too much; he hadn't expressed disinterest or dismissal, and now she felt safe to approach and continue down this thought's particular train tracks.

"Maybe it'll be better," she continued, sinking into the space beside Gale rather than occupy his lap and completely, physically and verbally, interrupt. "Maybe--Maybe without me worrying so much about the next bad mission out, I-I can do something. We can't both, we can't," she tried to find the words, made vague gestures with one of her hands, "can't...can't come back like this all the time. Worn and beaten and just...You've been there. You've been there so much," she emphasized softly. "One day you'll need me to be there. And--And I don't know if...Maybe next time I can make it, maybe next time I won't knot up and tangle and be this noose around your neck, maybe next time I can be there and still be there, but I'm scared that next time maybe I-I won't, Gale. I'm scared."

She wouldn't notice it until much later, but this was progress. She was speaking in her usual haphazard fashion, but it was the usual.

"I'm scared," she repeated weakly.

ashes to ashes


He could tell by the sharp intake of breath, the widening of her eyes, too bright to be normal, too bright to be considered okay, that she was tearing herself apart. Gale's heart skittered a little in his chest as she touched his cheek, and he lifted his free hand to cover hers and keep it there, curling his fingers.

"Hey," he said softly, and pulled her to him, careful not to drop the cigarette or get it on her clothes, his arm looping around her waist to keep her against his chest. Gale tilted his head down and pressed his lips to her temple once before pressing his forehead against hers, exhaling a slightly shaky breath.

"Don't you dare blame yourself," he said softly, firmly, and he closed his eyes briefly, giving a minute shake of his head. "I was able to come back to you, that's what matters to me."