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... )
She didn't really want to relive this with a random dude on the street, but he's not a total stranger! He's an angel so they're united on that front. Or something.
Elizabeth lowers herself so she's dangling from another branch.
"I didn't- It would be better if he thought I was dead believe me. Unfortunately now he's going to know that I've run off again, and he'll try hunting me down so- I don't know. So he can mold me into the perfect daughter. Not even so he can love me, just so he can- To ease his guilt over mom."
The branch cracks under her weight (which really isn't much but a tree is used to squirrels, girl) and she drops. Really if she fell from here and landed on the ground, she'd probably only sprain her ankle anyway. Elizabeth counts this as a success even as she's squeaking and falling. Right.
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And then he isn't allowed to continue with his speech, not that he has any right to be saying it at all. He's Wes, though, and lord knows nothing shuts this boy up.
Wes also has good reflexes. He knows the exact moment the branch cracks in two and moves over quickly, poising himself directly beneath her.
Elizabeth, you get the opposite of a tiny angel catching and breaking your fall, scooping you up into his arms before there can be any serious injury. Enjoy.
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"Thank you. For catching me," she says softly, remembering suddenly what he'd said before the fall. "I do- I did respect him. I just didn't... I wanted him to respect me, too. I just wanted him to listen to me like an adult, and he couldn't... do that. He locked me in my room so he wouldn't have to, cause he thought he was protecting me. He doesn't love me. He- My mom was his ward, and I... I killed her when I came out of her... womb or whatever. He can't love me."
..and this doesn't bother her at all. No. Right. She had been perfectly accepting of it when he told her he didn't know her and left her in her room. Now it's- Her chest hurts a little. Her head is killing her but that's because she needs to eat. Badly.
Time for a subject change which isn't hard because she's just realized that the hard surface she's pressed against... is this man's chest.
"Holy... moly, is- is your chest real? It's like- Are you hiding a wall under your shirt?" Elizabeth blinks up at him and stares at his shirt like she'll be able to see through if she tries hard enough. Elizabeth reaches out to touch his chest with her hand instead when it becomes clear that she won't be able to see through it. "Seriously. That's... wow." A goofy smile slides on to her face. "I guess this is what they mean when they say rock hard abs, huh?"
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... Talking about this with a virtual stranger in the middle of a street is vastly uncomfortable. Not that this wouldn't be uncomfortable, no matter who he was talking to and where the conversation was taking place.
He shakes his head in amusement while she talks about his stomach, carefully setting her down. "I'm all real, girl. Don't know about rock hard, but thank ya for the compliment."
Glancing at her again, he adds, "And ya didn't kill yer mother, though it may feel that way. Nature has its way of doing its work. It's not that yer father doesn't love ya. It's that--it's that connection that's gone that messes ya up in the head." He swallows thickly as he remembers how he felt when Rachel was being tortured.
"I'm sure he's doin' the best he can."
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Yes, that was a Josef quote. She has a difficult time remembering information for tests or remembering where she left something but she can still remember almost everything he's ever said to her.
Elizabeth only wobbles a little when she's set down. Her head hurts more now that she doesn't have the tree to focus on. She winces and then looks up at him, not going to look at those abs again... even if she is wondering what those rock hard abs actually look like.
"I don't blame him... for whatever he can't give me and how ever he treats me. I don't. But I can't stay up there locked in a room so he can fulfill his last promise to my mother. He's not the only one that has a calling even if it's... if it's hard for him to admit it anymore. I have- this city needs... what I can give to it especially after everything I saw in the plagues and the people I know who are out there killing." Never mind that she's in love with and lives with one of those people. "I'm not made for school. I can barely focus, and I was about to fail, again. This." Her hand balls into a fist. "This is what I was made for. It's what I was made to do. I can't turn around and have a 'normal' life when I know what happens in this city. I tried to show him that, tried to make him listen, but he couldn't. Or wouldn't. I don't know which."
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"The thing is, these callings of ours aren't something we can shake off. You can tell the world who you are, sure. But who you are is largely influenced by what you become. That ain't a choice, kiddo. What happens to a ward, it's hard to begin to explain what that does to a guardian."
He won't try. He's still trying to repress it all. He still wants to drink himself deep inside a bottle, drown in it, and never come up for air.
"This city does need a lot. But ya can't change the world on your own. If ya think ya can, or ya try, you're gonna be in for some real disappointment as noble as the thought is. Gonna hurt yerself and then you really won't be able to help the way ya want to. You can still help the city by going to school, making something of yerself other than that calling, but that's yer choice. Ain't gonna pester you about that when you barely know me."
He cocks his head to the side. "Ya really think that yer father's not gonna come lookin' for ya if he went through enough trouble to lock ya up?"
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"It sounds like you know from experience," she notes softly. Not really pressing, just pointing out that it does and if he needs to talk about it she's here. On the sidewalk of her own house. What the flying kite? She should really leave before her dad comes back.
She's starting to feel lightheaded, mixing that in with the headache is... not a good feeling at all. It's making her feel nauseous which is kind of ironic.
There's something about what he says that hurts. She can't place what but something sharp and painful wedges its way within her chest, and she bites down on her lower lip to keep whatever it is under control. Elizabeth takes in a deep breath.
"I know. I'm not trying to change the world... that was never the goal," she says, swallowing past whatever that painful feeling is or means. She doesn't know. She couldn't guess. Sometimes her emotions don't make sense to her but for once, she's not looking up at him. "There's nothing I could do that would change the world. I'm not smart. I'm just- This is the one thing I am good at. It's not about changing the world. It's about making sure people don't die alone. Not everyone." Elizabeth takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes. "I know I can't get to everyone but the one person who's spared that, who would have had to suffer alone and afraid because I was taking some History test that I'd fail anyway? They're worth it."
Elizabeth bites down on her lower lip again. She had thought of it, of course, but she can't remain locked up in her room forever. She can't unsee what she's seen. She can't unlearn what she's been taught, and he will never see her as anything as a girl even when she's showing him self control that most adults wouldn't have, even when she's speaking of responsibilities greater than herself or them. "I know he will. It's a big city though and every time he finds me, I'll leave again."
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He's never talking about it. Not with anyone. He will never speak about what happened within that cage, within that prison, to him and to Rachel both. Sometimes, if it's quiet enough, he'll still hear her singing. He'll still feel Esther's dead body pressed up against his. He'll remember when his heart stopped beating.
"Ya know what they say about being unable to help others until yer taking care of yerself?" God, what a flaming hypocrite. "That person is going to die, alone or not. It is better they do not die alone, yes. But yer gonna remain here, alive. The point is to live. Following yer calling like I said, is a noble thing. There is more to life than that, that includes yer education. It includes yer family, it includes more than just going around finding people whose fates are already sealed."
Wes rubs his face with a calloused hand. "I don't even know what I'm sayin' anymore. Do ya at least have some place to go or are ya just runnin' blind here? Ya realize I can't just let ya walk these streets on yer own."
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She doesn't say anything to what he tells her either which makes her uncharacteristically quiet. Never a good sign. She slips a strand of her hair behind her ear, staring into the grass. There's plenty more that she could argue about but she's slowly starting to understand that no one will ever understand. No one can understand because they haven't experienced it. They don't know, and there's no way for them to ever know. A fellow death angel... maybe. But maybe not even them. Maybe she's the only one who thinks that what she does is so much more important than herself.
Her head is pounding, and she closes her eyes from the pain. Elizabeth takes in a deep breath and forces herself to look up at him again, forces herself to smile and how good she is at making them seem real even with tears building behind her eyes, begging to be spilled.
"I do. I have a home. This is just the house I used to live in," she says, turning her attention to it. "When I was still young."
That last part of the sentence is meant to come off more lightly than it does, like a joke because she realizes that she's sixteen, and she's a child in most everyone's eyes. It doesn't though. Her smile widens a fraction more.
"So you don't have to worry. I'm not that crazy that I'd run off without a place to go."
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"Yer growing up," he agrees with a nod, something caught tightly inside his throat. He's eighty, and he feels a lot older right now, but when he was her age he didn't know the difference between a house and a home. It was one and the same.
She's already one step ahead.
"I'd still feel better if I walked ya to wherever that is, yeah? Don't need to be tellin' ya this place ain't safe."
He finally stretches out a hand, introducing himself, which is long overdue. "Wes Gannon."
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She swallows with difficulty. Growing up. It's better than people calling her a child, saying she doesn't know what she's talking about... locking her away and shutting her up.
"Okay," she says, still with that smile forced on her face when really, really badly just wants to be with Josef again who treats her differently than anyone else, who takes her more seriously than anyone else ever has and probably ever will. Actually, she just wants to sleep for like two days straight. Somewhere she feels safe even if she shouldn't feel safe there, even if he's never promised her that.
God. It didn't hurt at all when she was so determined to escape and had that on her mind. It didn't hurt while she was lying in bed battling hunger pains and pointing at the plates to her father to show him, to show him how much control she has, how much determination. Everything's hurting now though. And she feels weak. Physically and emotionally. Suck it up, Elizabeth. You knew before you saw him again. You knew how he felt.
She takes Wes' hand, which is strong and huge in comparison to hers, and she might have preoccupied with staring at it. "Elizabeth Jules. It's nice to meet you even if I'm meeting you as I do a big, old escape from my dad's house."
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"At least it's memorable, right?" His smile is strained, and it never quite reaches his eyes. He doesn't want to linger on the fact this kid is leaving her father's roof.
Doesn't want to linger on the fact he can't bring himself to feel much of anything anymore, and the fight is easily drained from him. Before, he might have reacted very differently. Hefted her over his shoulder if he had to and thrown the front door down.
Wes is not that man right now, but a part of him still cares. And that's better than nothing at all.
"Just want to make sure ya get home safely, that's all."
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She wants to ask but something stops her from doing so. They're strangers. It's not like everyone's willing to spill their life story to the first person they meet. She's not either really. There are some things she'll never say.
Her smile is more sincere this time. She wants to get home so badly but the man with the strong abs and big hand is being very nice to her. It's always nice to see that in this city where people insist is only filled with darkness. Everyday Elizabeth sees something happen that proves them all wrong. It brings enough lightness back to her chest that she can start to ramble again with that smile pulling helplessly across her lips as she walks beside him. Boy, he's tall. Taller than her dad, and she used to think he was the tallest person on the planet.
"Thank you. I appreciate that a lot though you know I'm totally capable of kicking serious patooty," she says. yes, she can fill up the silence so whatever's making his smile strained does not consume him as long as she's near... and rambling. "Usually I walk these streets all on my own. I took out a zombie once. A real, live- or well, I guess he was undead... zombie. I found a giant knife and I chopped off his head. Gosh, that's probably not the best story to tell while walking. Either way! He's dead... now. Dead dead though I guess he was already dead so he was no longer animated? Yes. I don't understand the specific technicalities of zombies. The point is that I was like Ash from Evil Dead without the boomstick."
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Ridding himself of his thoughts, Wes welcomes the distraction in the form of chatter. "Yer welcome. And I don't doubt you can take care of yerself. It's good ya know how to but since I'm already here I might as well join ya in yer walk, yeah? Just in case."
He snorts as she rambles about the zombie. "I don't mind the stories. Sounds like Chicago, all right. My first night back in a few months ago? Rift spit out some nasty monster. Don't know my mythology, so beats me what it was. I just know it had claws and ugly scales and was one big sonofagun."
"...I ain't ever seen that movie, but I trust she kicked serious patooty in it, too."
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"Yep. Just in case. It doesn't hurt to have a man with abs of stone walking beside me. If nothing else, you'll scare off most of our foes with your ultra manliness, right?"
Often times Elizabeth just says words especially when she's as tired and lighteheaded as she is at the moment. Yes, she's insisting on using that as an excuse for acting the way she always does.
"Claws and ugly scales and big. See? You are like a serious BAMF. I don't usually curse and really the cursing in that is implied but I think that situation called for it. You and your abs of steel. Or stone. Or something very hard. Seriously do you work out like 10 times a day or something?"
Elizabeth laughs, glancing sideways at him. "You definitely have never seen it then. Ash is a bamf, too, just like you but with less in the ab region. And he's a dude with a big gun that he put in place of his hand which he had to chop off cause it got infected with zombie mojo. It's really hilarious. I highly recommend it, and after you watch it, you'll have to contact me with your thanks and your review. Obviously."
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"They're not of stone," Wes says with another laugh. He is surprisingly humbled when his physique is pointed out to him. He knows he's good looking, Wes just doesn't think about it too much. He likes working hard. He likes pushing limits.
"Don't really work out the normal way?" he answers her in a genuine voice. His southern twang is thicker just now. "I like swimming. I run sometimes, work on bikes and other engines in my bike shop. Do all sorts of heavy lifting. Running on a tread mill and lifting weights would bore the heck outta me, honestly."
"I'll be sure to do that, then. The thanks and the review." His smirk turns into a confused little frown. "And BAMF means...?"
Sorry, Elizabeth. Wes is eighty and he is largely ignorant to what's 'hip' these days.
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