and i've been dreaming of revenge to make you love me more
But I don't want to play God either. I can't do that. I don't want to pick and choose.
But you have before.
Martha Jones is seated at a cafe, pouring over notes that her wedding planner gave her. There are choices she has to make even she told the woman that it doesn't particularly matter to her as long as she marries her fiance, as long as the ( Read more... )
But you have before.
Martha Jones is seated at a cafe, pouring over notes that her wedding planner gave her. There are choices she has to make even she told the woman that it doesn't particularly matter to her as long as she marries her fiance, as long as the ( Read more... )
It's just... The things that happened have torn through enough peoples' lives. It's not that she doesn't want to turn to Rusty, find comfort in his presence.
She feels like she's just here to dump more shit into his life and count on him to put up with it. And it's all she's ever done, it feels like, and it's not fair. Can't she spare him this? Can't she just leave him alone?
In the end, she rallies herself enough to raise a hand, and rap on the door.
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Rusty had not been seated. He'd been pacing, forcing away any need for heroin that might hit him. Fuck if he's gonna let himself be high for this... whatever this is. He tenses at the knock and walks over to his door, opening it up for her... at a complete loss as to what to say or how to act.
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She couldn't even pause to think about Rusty. She loved him too much. And the thought that she might not see him again if she didn't survive would have shattered her on the spot. She'd had to put all of that aside in order to pull through.
But she did pull through, and now here he is in front of her, and it's all she can do not to break down right here in his doorway.
It takes every last ounce of self-control she has to hold herself together. To muster the tiniest of smiles. To speak,
"...Hi. Can I come in?"
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The way that she's asking him is on a certain level of terrifying on its own. His chest clenches up in a painfully worried way as he looks at her. Something's horribly wrong. Something happened. He feels it in every inch of himself.
He reaches for her shoulder to guide her in. As if she needs the guidance to get through the doorway. Hell, maybe he does. As soon as she gets inside, he shuts the door behind her but he can't quite take that hand off of her shoulder.
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But he always knew her, read her, better than anyone. And he never made her feel like she had to hide anything at all. The need to be in control, to not show any weakness at all, especially in the face of what's been done, wars inside her with how much she wants to just let him bear the burden of what's gone wrong this time.
His hand on her shoulder makes her come completely undone. She fights so hard, but once she looks up at his face--God, he's so beautiful, he always has been--she loses it. She buries her face in her hands and starts sobbing.
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He doesn't know what's wrong. He won't ask until she's ready to say and if she never says, he'll understand. It feels a bit like a chasm though to have her in his arms so obviously broken. It's like a chasm has opened in his chest and swallowed all his organs whole, leaving him empty. No, he doesn't know the details but something's seriously fucked up, something was done, and it's beyond his scope of imagining but it's touched her. Fuck, touched isn't anywhere near the right word for it. He doesn't have the right word for it ( ... )
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He presses his hand against her hair.
"It's okay. You don't have to say sorry," he says softly. "Really did figure you were busy." It honestly wasn't even something he thought about or wondered about. It just didn't occur to him. Maybe if it had been a month or two, he'd have figured the worse and tried to get in contact with her but a few weeks of no contact is just not enough to get him thinking.
"Whatever it is, you don't gotta worry about protectin' me from it or nothin. Take care of yourself. Do what you need and want cause that's all you should be doin' right now. I mean... fuck." It's the best way he can- he can't actually say that she's broken and they both know it anyway so it seems best to cut himself off with a curse. "By doin' that, you'll be doin' what I need ( ... )
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"I love you," she whispers. Because she doesn't have words for the rest. How grateful she is to have him. How touched she is by his selflessness, his forgiveness, his concern. How sorry she is that her life, his life, Adrian's life, they all got so complicated because she chose to love him and make room in her life for him. And how little she actually gives a fuck about the complications, in the end, because she'd do it all over again. Best choice she ever made, in her eyes.
She lifts her chin and looks up at him. "I love you so much. That won't ever change."
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He kisses her. There's no wanting in that kiss. There's no asking either. He presses his lips against hers, and it just is. I love you, too. Better than he could ever express it in words.
Rusty nods, still looking down at her. "It won't ever change."
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She takes a deep breath and the words just seem to tumble out, like she needs to hurry up and say them while she still can. "Somebody took us. Me and Wes. He--he poisoned Wes so he could stop it, and he took us both. I don't know why. He never said."
Another breath so she can push the next part of the story out. "He held us for a couple of days. Tortured us. I got-- he shot me. He stabbed me and he fucked me up somehow so I... liked it ( ... )
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Fuckfuckfuckfuck- fuck.
And it takes about two seconds for him to guess who Adam is though he's not going to mention it. Even if he's... he's not too surprised. He may have even heard some shit, whispers of shit about it after all of it blew the fuck up.
This is. He does not know what to do. Or how to help. Or what to say. He's barely good at this on a smaller scale as it is, and fuck. It hurts so much that this was done to her. Yes, this is Chicago, but there are a lot of motherfucking people walking around, a lot of assholes, a lot of horrible people, and they never have shit done to them. Meanwhile, it's people like her who go through nightmares that he can barely imagine.
Rusty wraps his arms more tightly around her, struggling with tears of his own because he hurts for her. And what the fuck is he supposed to do or to say to make this better? Jesus. There's nothing he can do. No one can make it not happen.
"Jesus," he mutters out loud like releasing a pained breath, like someone's stabbed him in the gut and this is ( ... )
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What can he do? Only the thing she needs most right now--the one thing she's needed most all her life. He can reassure her it's okay to be who she needs to be, feel what she needs to feel, in her own time, and he'll still love her for it.
"I just..." She stares up at him again, holding on to him. Then she leans up and kisses him full on the lips, soft and slow. No demanding, no wanting, just reassuring.
"The best decision I have ever made in my life--will ever make--is loving you," she declares, on the verge of tears all over again. I can't even--"
She sniffles, and buries her face in his shirt again. "I'll give myself that permission," she says, her voice a bit muffled. "To not be okay."
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Rusty slips his hand into her hair when she kisses him, and there's that talking back to her through the kiss. I love you. It's okay. He keeps his hand in her hair even as she pulls back from the kiss.
The best decision I have ever made in my life is loving you.And then his heart hurts for a whole other reason. A better reason this time even if it's mixing with the hollowness and flood of emotion within him at what he's learned tonight. He's got no idea how to react to it. The only other person who ever really loved him, his sister... it's not something she'd ever say to him so it's weird to hear. It's weird and amazing to hear and a little terrifying too though he can't imagine what he's scared of. That he'll let her down? Somehow? Even after everything. Honestly, it feels good to be scared of letting someone down though. It's been too long since he cared ( ... )
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And then she's kissing him again, peppering little kisses over his cheek, his nose, his chin before kissing him properly on the lips.
I love you. It's okay.
For the first time since Adam came down those stairs and set her and Wes free, Rachel actually believes that's possible. That it's okay.
She cradles Rusty's face in her hands like she's holding something irreplaceable--and maybe she really is, he's that precious to her. "Maybe just a day or two? I'll see how I feel. I appreciate this, though. I really do."
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He closes his eyes at the kisses. Something warm fills him mixing with that pain for her. Before this happened, he might have concerned himself with the complications that still exist in how everything fits but he's not concerned with them at the moment. He's wrapped up in her and what she needs, and there's no way he'll even tense negatively at any movement she makes or word she says. Not for a long while. Maybe never again.
"As long as you want," Rusty says again. How ever long or short that might be... it doesn't matter to him. He meant what he said.
Rusty reaches up, pulling her hands from his face (and how breathtaking, scary, and amazing does it feel to be held like that?). He keeps his hand in hers though as he pulls her with him to the bed. Gently. He has never been the take charge sort but he ( ... )
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