[rp][locked to Sarah]
After Jeremy went with Sarah to get her things back, after he saw what remained of what she went through, the deaths that she saw, experienced, helped with on hand, Jeremy could not leave her, would not leave her. He asks if she'd prefer going back to her house or to his room at Martha's house. It doesn't matter which one she says, because he is
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It was obvious to him that she needed it. She passed out in front of him, and he half wondered if he should take her to the hospital instead. He remembered that Martha was a doctor and Martha looked over her, assuring him that she would be okay if she rested, got fluids and food when she woke up. Jeremy listened to her, but it hasn't been easy to not worry.
Every part of him is worrying. He saw the whole... setting. He saw it. It hurt to see. It hurt more to know that she was there when it all exploded, and he can't-- can't imagine what that must have been like, but he has a better idea after walking through the aftermath of it, seeing all the blood and the corpses that remained.
He would have appreciated the company, Elena. He really would have as otherwise, he would have just spiraled in his worry. It would be hard to do much else, say much else in the mean time, and he doesn't know if she'd rather be in her own home, but he wouldn't want her dad coming home to find him there unexpectedly.
That could be bad, and he would literally need to see her wake up again to know that she was okay, to stop himself from pacing at least in his head. Since it all it seems he can do while he waits for her to wake up.
It's not surprising to him tat she sleeps for so long. Whenever it's fitful, whenever she seems to struggle with something, he's there, sitting on the edge of the bed, uncertain but placing a hand on her shoulder or moving the blankets or doing anything he can think of to help in any fitful moment.
Jeremy is still seated on the floor, staring at nothing in particular at the moment. His journal is open, but he hasn't been paying attention to that at all, and it's not until he hears his name that he shifts at the sound of it. Jeremy looks up at her, relief flooding trough him to see her awake even if the worry hasn't and won't leave yet.
He gets to his feet and moves to sit on the edge of his bed.
"Hey," Jeremy says softly. "I hope you don't mind that we're here instead of your bedroom. It seemed better to take you here."
He looks at her carefully, trying to find the words to say. Something. Anything.
Jeremy holds a bottle of water out toward her. He took the cap off since he knows she must still be weak from... from everything.
"How are you feeling?"
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The problem is, no sooner you wake up, it all comes rushing back to you in distorted images and with rapidfire force. Sarah blinks away the lethargic, groggy feeling and lifts herself up, leaning against her elbows as she looked around. Her fingers slip into her hair, cradling the side of her face, and at least the painful thudding in her head is gone, too.
Elena would've kept him company, and also made him dinner since she wouldn't have expected him to remember to eat while he was worried. This should be threaded, either this or after Sarah leaves. Either way, there will be sibling bonding times, as she would've sat with him, while trying to quiet her own worry and wondering what Damon was doing.
Sarah takes a deep breath and glances backward, relieved to find her wings are nowhere to be seen. She doesn't know when they pushed themselves back in. She figures it doesn't really matter as he saw them already anyway.
It's still a relief to have them gone.
"No, no, it's good. I didn't want anyone knowing," she says, just as softly. Her throat feels scratchy and her lips are chapped, so she licks the corners of them before she looks upward, not quite meeting his gaze still, not quite knowing what to say, either. She doesn't expect him to say anything. There's not really a lot that one can say about something like this, and she really wouldn't expect him to.
She is horrified he had to go and see it, too. Would've much rather that he didn't, even if it was what was left of it all. If she was in a better frame of mind, she wouldn't have insisted on going to get her things right away, except it's better that she did since her journal and her locket were in the backpack, as she hadn't known how important the latter would be until now.
And now that she does, she's going to be guarding it with her life.
Her gaze drifts toward the bottle of water, reaching for it with a small thank you, drinking from it almost greedily.
"I've been better," she answers honestly, since she doesn't have the energy to say anything else. She rubs the side of her face but doesn't expand on the sentiment. There isn't even much to expand on. There's that empty, dull ache at the surface of everything once again, and she supposes that's another blessing in disguise. "Thanks for..."
Everything. She wouldn't know where to start.
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Martha would be there, and she would be able to help her medically wise if that became necessary and Jeremy was so afraid that it would become necessary.
He thought that it would have to be necessary, because she just passed out, but Martha assured her again that she needed sleep, needed food. She'd passed out from complete exhaustion, and Jeremy had swallowed but nodded in understanding before he had to just wait.
There was all the pacing across the hallway, across his room.
There was nothing else to do, but he wanted to do something.
BAW, Elena. ;_; THIS SHOULD BE THREADED.
All the sibling bonding time would be so, so amazing, and Jeremy would definitely want the company and would not have remembered to eat on his own at all. He would be only half aware of the time.
There's a lot for them to worry about if the Society is here, killing people Damon works with. What does that mean? Is his sister going to be next?
Jeremy shifts on the floor, looking up at her for a moment before he stands and settles on the side of the bed beside her. "Okay. I wasn't... sure, but I couldn't think of where else to go, and Martha is a doctor so I thought if you were sick or if you never woke up, she'd... be able to help," he says quietly as he looks at her.
The worry doesn't go away. It aches in his chest. It slides over his ribs, his heart, and he glances at the sheets between them, doesn't look at her eyes either, because he-- he thinks he knows why she's not meeting his gaze.
He nods with a you're welcome that's soft, quiet.
Jeremy swallows at the answer, and he knew that it-- that it wouldn't be 'okay'. Jeremy wouldn't have believed an okay, and she can't lie anyway, but he had to ask. He had to ask knowing there really wouldn't be an answer at all.
"It's--" He can't really manage a you're welcome then, and he presses his lips together, looking toward his journal and then back at her. "She was your friend, wasn't she? You told me about her before. Elizabeth."
There was an entry in the journal, and his sister told him too. He knows more than he should probably, and he doesn't know what to do with the information, what can be done about it. And now she's... she's in it too whether she wants to be or not.
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Sarah would not have wanted to go back home.
Even using the word for it feels like a betrayal. She doesn't have the best poker face but she has to start practicing if she's to get to the bottom of this, and if her father had returned early from his business trip to see her like that, he would've known she was there at Elizabeth's.
He would've known that she knew, and right now, the only possible weapon that she has is that she knows and they are unaware of it. Sarah swallows thickly and runs a hand through her hair again, assorting her thoughts as the awakened state becomes stronger. She's relieved the angel is once again shoved back into a quiet corner inside her mind, inside her chest.
It will remain this way until she sees death again, and she is as paranoid as she's ever been, and will try avoiding gazes, at least at first. Not for very long. It's who she is, whether she likes it or not, and there's no point in prolonging the inevitable, and as horrible as it all was, she was grateful to be there.
She was grateful she could take away the pain and they weren't alone.
She was grateful they died together, even if she hates they had to die at all.
It's what she is built to do, and Elizabeth embraced it because she knew death was not a bad thing, and it's not cold or scary even if it feels that way before it really happens. Elizabeth stood for something, her whole life, and how many people can truly say that?
Sarah tucks a strand of hair over her ear and glances over at him when he sits down, her eyes focusing on his neck. "I'm sorry I worried you," she says, and she knows it must've looked bad if he thought she wouldn't wake up again. "It's just what happens when the Calling is at its loudest. I should've warned you."
But then, she never in her wildest dreams thought she would have to, that something like this could happen, unless there was some natural disaster in which there were dying people all over. You can't stop, it doesn't matter if you're tired or hungry or sleepy or scared or don't want to see at all.
There is something greater than you behind the wheel, and always will be.
At the question, she almost lifts her gaze fully but doesn't. That icy feeling slides down her back and she straightens herself in place, folding her hands on her lap, fingers webbing together for lack of anything else to do.
"Yeah," she answers softly, almost inaudibly. Was your friend. Was. Sarah swallows back down the small lump in her throat and rubs at her eyes again to rid herself of the burning there, at the very edges. "I'd been visiting her. She was getting really sick. Angels of death, we--"
Sarah shakes her head. That's not so important right now. The point is she was sick. "I'd stay over sometimes, rent movies, just things that would distract her, but then the last time, I looked into her eyes and saw her death, so."
So she stayed.
Sarah couldn't be anywhere else.
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It's not like he would feel unsafe at her house, not that he knows why he should feel unsafe there. It's more that this place is as close to home that he has been able to find in Chicago. For that reason, he thinks it might help her too.
There are people around, and even if she doesn't see them, they can still sense they're there.
There's something very... very home about it, and he knows they have good security here. It's why Elena and he moved in in the first place, and he releases a breath, sliding a hand behind his neck as he sits there on the floor still. He reaches over to shut the journal.
He never knew either of them, but Damon did. Elena said that Damon did, and it adds a whole other level to all of this. If anyone saw Sarah there, she could be as dragged into this as he and Elena are. And it's her friend that died.
If it was his friend, he'd want to get to the bottom of it, want to make sure justice was had. They were shot up on the street, on the sidewalk, and the police themselves do not have the power to bring justice to the situation, to fight back in this case. They don't have enough power, enough knowledge. It's them against... the world basically.
However, justice is deserved, and they really can't let the Society people continue to get closer and closer. His sister is here. They would kill her if they knew-- and they could be so close to knowing. They could have the location centered down.
He tries not to think about it too muc.
Jeremy looks over at her at what she says, and he smiles a little but it's sad, almost unbelieving. "When would you have warned me?" He asks, shaking his head. She had no way of being able to anticipate what would happen, and he wouldn't have wanted her to talk about the Calling unless she wanted to talk about it.
She definitely wasn't in the state to warn him before she passed out. He shakes his head at the apology though. "Don't worry about it. It's what friends do. We worry."
And he will always worry especially if that's what happens when the Calling is loudest. It means that she could easily-- she could have easily been killed herself. Either after seeing the deaths or-- or when she went back for her things. She wasn't really aware of her surroundings, and it-- it will worry him.
Jeremy sees her almost lift her gaze but then not. He takes in a breath and lifts up his hand. "I have this ring. It protects me," he says without... getting into why or how or what it does exactly. It means he's not goign to die easily.
Though he could die like Elizabeth did, and so his hand falls down to his leg and he doesn't say anything more.
It may not be important 'right now', but Jeremy takes in what she says. Angels of death, sick. He's going to ask about it later, but right now, it's about her friend.
"That was really good of you. I'm sure she appreciated that. It's not easy staying with someone when they're sick, but..." He shakes his head, looking down, not knowing what to say. There's nothing to say to make it better.
Jeremy knows it. He can't even say I'm sorry, because so many people will say it and it doesn't mean anything. At the end of the day.
He slides his arm around her shoulders instead, tugging her gently against his chest and tightening his hold on her for a moment. "I can't really imagine what that'd be like," he says instead. "It must have hurt."
More than anything. "To want to stop it, but be unable to." And she must have wanted to even with the Calling as loud as it may have been. "But you helped. You helped her."
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They wouldn't live long enough to say the three of them were there and they knew what they were about, or rather, that Sonny and Damon did. Sarah still doesn't know who they are, only that that was an assassination, and there is a reason.
The fact she recognized one of them is going to haunt her.
She's seen that man before. Hasn't only seen him, but seen him often.
His name was Curtis, and he visited her father, they would smoke cigars in her father's studio, and he was there for her latest birthday. He gave her a pearl bracelet in his name and his wife's, and now he's--he's dead and she can't quite be as sad about it, considering what he was involved in.
That it was Elizabeth makes it all the more personal to her. Sarah won't have any peace of mind until this has been through. There's the angel that says everyone dies when they're supposed to, but there's Sarah, who saw her innocent friend gunned down, and someone deserves to pay.
A whole lot of someones, as she's beginning to see.
Sarah makes a small noise, that could almost be construed as a laugh, but it's not, and she shakes her head. "I don't know, as soon as we started being friends? There's a lot that comes with being... what I am," she says, and she hadn't said anything since it's nice to pretend sometimes that she's just another teenager when she's roller blading or having pizza.
She's just another teenager like any other, only she's not.
There's that small lump in her throat, but she nods. They're friends, like Elizabeth was her friend, and she has never had many, and she hates that she's remembering why. It's so much harder to care, instead of seeing the world through a canvas, where she can only observe rather than being involved.
She would've easily been killed if Sonny hadn't gotten there in time. She wasn't in the right frame of mind to leave, to be aware that she should, and if he hadn't locked her in that bathroom, she would not be here.
It's not something she ever plans to say.
Sarah hesitates a little, but her eyes study the ring wordlessly, and she steels herself before she finally looks up. Her eyes well a little, even if no tears fall, and she doesn't see anything. Anything other than his eyes, the color they've always been, but no--no death, and she bites on the inside of her cheek before she nods at him again, letting the relief slide through her.
He's not dying in seven days. Seven days, only for Elizabeth it was two.
"That's--that's really good," she says. She doesn't know how that ring works or why he would have it and it's not as important as the fact it needs to work. "I..." her voice trails off and she shakes her head.
Words are not really her strong suit right now, not that they've ever been.
"I wouldn't want her to be alone with it," she says. She honestly doesn't expect him to say anything at all, but after what he did for her, and after what he saw, Sarah believes he deserves to know. "It's what friends also do, right? She was... she was a good one."
Was. It's so strange to speak in past tense of someone that was present tense not even a week ago.
That stupid lump grows in her throat when he tugs her gently but she does, still feeling kind of tired. She rests her head against his shoulder and shakes her head once more. "I did." Want to stop it. "But it's what she wanted." Not so violently, not so horribly, not so much blood everywhere, all over, unable to escape it. "She wanted to die before she lost her mind. I took away the pain. She wasn't alone. And it's what she wanted. It's... something. I don't know what yet, but."
But it's something.
Sarah doesn't feel like she did much at all, but it's something that Elizabeth is no longer in pain, and she's at peace, and death is something she understood so intimately she must've welcomed it with open arms.
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The guns had strewn on the floor, covered in blood. Some arms that had been ripped from the bodies of those people, they were still attached to hands that still wrapped helplessly around guns that did not help them in the end from the hunger of that monster.
No one is really invisible in this city, in this universe. There is something reassuring about that, that he doesn't think the Society can last forever either. It's not how this world works. The universe isn't working with it but against it, against everyone.
It's what makes him think that there is a possibility that it can be destroyed, that it can be taken down someday by someone or something. A force greater than them. If they can at least get them off their backs, it would be a relief, get them too busy cleaning up their own messes and getting strong again and building themselves up again to worry for a second about Chicago, about the doppleganger- his sister.
And it has always put her in danger and he worries about that too more than he can say.
He hates that she can't even escape it in this universe.
There are plenty of reasons to want to take down the Society. A lot of them have to do with keeping this city okay from what he's heard, keeping this city as it is with the truces, with wanderers living here safely. There's also revenge. There's also protection of those closest to him.
It's strange to think they'll have to go back to school when there's all this weighing over them, hanging over them both.
After what she had to go through.
Jeremy shakes his head at what she says, and he doesn't smile, doesn't laugh this time. "You should be allowed to be you, Sarah. You should be able to be a teenager sometimes." Not just the angel, not just a doppleganger. He knows. Elena doesn't have a Calling, but what she was got in the way of her... being Elena sometimes, having fun.
He understands why she didn't say, doesn't mind that she doesn't say.
Jeremy for his part doesn't steel himself when she looks at his eyes. There's not really any fear of her seeing anything, and he wants her to see that, that he's not afraid of hanging out with her, spending time with her because of what she might see.
He nods at what she says and then he is quiet as she works through the words. Words may not be her strong suit but he knows after what happened, it would be even more difficult to find the words.
"It is. It's what friends do. There's nowhere else you could have been if you'd known about it, even if you didn't have an angel forcing you to be there. You would have been," Jeremy says quietly, and he looks between them, breathing in. "It makes a difference, Sarah."
It makes a huge difference. To not be alone with it, to not be alone at the end of it.
Jeremy keeps an arm around her, tightening his hold on her and resting his chin on top of her head, almost protectively. He feels himself, filled with confusion. It's what she wanted.
Before she lost her mind. Is that--
"Sarah, I don't--" Is that what she meant by angels of death and sickness? It's not the time to ask about it, but he's worried, but he's worried and he'll ask someone because he has to know.
Jeremy swallows down the worry, the tightening of his throat. "It is something. I know it doesn't take away... how much it hurts right now, but it's something, Sarah. Not everyone can do something like that."
To not feel alone and in pain when it comes.
And because she is his friend, because it was her friend that died, because she deserves to know. He has to say it. "...I know why. Why they were killed. Who did it."
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Sarah has experienced natural disasters and she's seen the CLF in action and she's run away from monsters and other things that come with living in Chicago. If you live here, you are bound to face any and all of those things, likely within the same week, since there's never any slowing down.
But that level of gratuitous violence is something she'd never been confronted with in person. It was one thing to see a broadcast of the CLF, horrible that it was, like something out of a Rated R movie, and it's another to be there, to be standing only a few feet away as bullet after bullet after bullet is fired and it is killing your friend.
She is not letting herself think of that.
If it's all she thinks about, she might never step out of the door.
Sarah doesn't know how she is going to go back to school, how she is even going to go back home, kiss her father goodnight as she does every night he is home, say she loves him, hear he loves her too, when she knows, when this has happened, when she cannot make herself go back in time before she ever knew.
There is never any going back. There's no clean slate. There's no starting over from scratch. There is just the past, and it builds up until you either learn to carry it or it crushes you.
That's all it is.
"That's the thing, though. I'm... not, Jeremy," she says with a helpless shrug, tearful smile as the corners of her lips sting at the motion. Just a teenager would be nice, and is nice when she isn't hit with the reminders, but it's not the truth. "I look like one most of the time, but I'm not, and anything else is really just... pretending. And sometimes that... hurts more."
It's pretending that she's human, it's pretending that she isn't built to see and carry death, that she isn't going to die soon if not lose her mind, it's all of these things in one, and it's nice and it's a comfort, and she'll likely do it again but sooner or later the reality sets in.
There's no hiding from it forever, and there's hardly any point in doing so anymore, or that's how it feels.
The lying is a comfort while you believe it, and then when you're confronted with the truth, it only hurts more when you are. There are lies you tell to the world and lies you tell to yourself, and once they blur together, maybe you forget for a little while but not forever.
There'd be no way to forget forever.
"I know," she says, and it sounds helplessly small. He's right, she knows he's right, and a tear finally slides down her cheek but she's quick to wipe it away. There's a difference, there has to be or angels of death shouldn't exist. They must for a reason, it's what she needs to believe, especially now. "It's not a bad thing, you know. The moments before can be as horrible and painfully as you can imagine but the actual dying is--it's warm. There's no pain. Just a lot of light."
And her hand. And her voice. And her face.
And finally, an answer.
Sarah looks away and doesn't answer, and thankfully, he doesn't press.
It's never going to be the time to talk about it, and he soon enough says something else that captures her attention.
She didn't plan on having answers this soon.
At some point, Sarah was going to have to track Sonny down, and she still might. He did say if she needed anything that she could go to him, and she'd want to do good on his promise, even if he doesn't owe her any answers. He saved her life, but he also knows more.
He and Damon know more, or Josef would've never entrusted them with his belongings, a locket that looks just like hers, and why does it look just like hers?
Sarah straightens up and looks at him, confusion and dread and a need to know all balling up into her stomach in one go. "... Josef said they were his enemies, but that's all he said," she says carefully, and she shifts so that she's looking at him more head-on.
"...Jeremy, what do you know?"
How does he know?
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He tries not to imagine it, and he knows anything his head could come up with would be absolutely nothing like what actually happened out on that sidewalk that she had to view. He has heard that so many people have seen and been through so many different things here.
It's the closest that he has ever been.
Jeremy's seen monsters before, but he's always kept his distance because there was literally nothing he could do and people with weapons were stepping in to save others.
But he hasn't even been here long enough to witness one of Chicago's famous disasters that he has heard about. The plagues, earthquakes, a flooding storm, a snowstorm that covered the whole city for a week and killed anyone left out in it.
It's one thing to hear about it, and it's another thing to see it first hand.
Jeremy knows, and he knew when he saw her on the sidewalk that things would change for her. It would all shift. She wouldn't ever be the same girl that she was before she saw those deaths, and she shouldn't be. No one would be after they went through something like that. Loss changes you, no matter how often you go through that.
He would know that.
Loss of that kind, loss that you see in front of you, it would change you even more.
Jeremy freezes at what she says, and he turns to look at her, shaking his head. There's some part of him that's trying to come to grips, trying to understand without misunderstanding, and he can't believe it. He can't. He understands she is more than a teenager, and he saw that earlier, but she's not only an angel either. There's so much more to her.
"So... you and me being friends... that's just pretending?" He looks at her, plainly but with that hint of sadness in his eyes, hint of something very insistent. "When we went roller skating, we were pretending? I don't want to--"
He releases a breath, looking down at his hands. "I don't want to hurt you right now. It's the last thing that I want, but I know we've had moments, we've had time together that wasn't just pretending. It's who you are, but it's not all, it's not only."
It can't be.
Maybe it feels like only pretending now, but Jeremy doesn't believe it and he doesn't want her to believe it either.
And he knows that she is hurting and grieving right now in a way that he cannot understand, but he-- he can't just let her feel that way without saying something even if his words can't reach her right now.
Jeremy is quiet, keeping her close against his chest when she speaks again. His experience with dying was different, but he didn't have an angel of death with him. He wonders if that's what makes the difference in the end. "That's good. That's good to keep in mind too, right? No pain, warm. People always think of death-- dying being like darkness, cold."
And that's how it was for him.
Nothingness.
No, he doesn't press but he'll find out. One way or another, he'll find out.
He kind of understands already even before she's said, and it's something else to shove down in his chest, shove away from him, lock it up for now and deal with it later. Though there is one question that he has to ask, has to ask. "How old was... your friend?"
That's as far as he will ask and it will be an answer in itself.
Jeremy glances at her as she straightens up, seeing the confusion, the dread, the need all in one. He nods in answer to that, not sure if he should say it, but at the same time...
At the same time... he doesn't want her to go looking in places that aren't safe without knowing, not when he has answers. "They're called the Society. I guess they believe angels and demons should fight each other, werewolves and vampires too, and that... wanderers shouldn't exist. They have a lot of power, a lot of control, they're really old."
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And it's almost painful how his words are mirroring Elizabeth's.
It's why she wanted Sarah to keep the painting.
To remind her of the things Sarah can do, and not just what the angel can and should do. Sarah bites down on her lip and shakes her head, not wanting him to believe that for a moment, genuinely annoyed with herself for making it sound like that could be it, though she understands why he'd think that.
If she's been fooling herself, then she's been fooling everyone, hasn't she?
But it's not like that.
Their friendship and her wanting to be his friend has never been about the pretend.
"It can be, I guess," Sarah says, and she--it reminds her of why it's so important that angels like her and Elizabeth exist. "That's why we can't--we can't just turn away from what we're supposed to do. We make sure people don't die alone, and we take on their pain so they don't feel it in the last moments, so they're not scared. I know it's important. I do."
If it's difficult to remember, it's only because there's grief she's not sure she's feeling fully. It's there, underneath the surface of things, but there's a hollow veil covering it and it's not as easy to reach.
She would've hated that he was alone.
As scary as it is to think she could lose the only other friend she's made, she would want to be there for him if it ever came to pass. No one should be alone, and no one should be scared, but definitely not someone like him.
He should have the light.
It's Sarah's turn to freeze as he asks the question.
The tightening in her throat resumes, and she doesn't answer at first, certainly doesn't look at him when she does. "Eighteen," she whispers. That really does say everything, doesn't it? Elizabeth was only eighteen. There was so much more to her, and she still had so much more to give, more than Sarah would ever have to give, and she's gone.
If she hadn't died, insanity would've claimed her.
There would've still been the loss of her, and death is kind in comparison.
Elizabeth had helped more people die than Sarah has, and likely that will make a year or two worth of difference but that's not a lot. Or maybe it is. She won't really know until the time comes, but the city was big enough and now there's an angel of death that is gone, and she and Charlie will have to fill that void.
They'll have to split those deaths among each other as angels of death are rare.
They are rare for a reason.
Sarah listens to him, doesn't take her eyes of him as he speaks. She doesn't know why it sounds familiar, why it sounds like something she's heard when that's impossible. She's been unaware, and she stares at a spot on the bed as she takes this all in.
She crawls over to the other side of the bed, but it's only to open her bag, retrieving the locket. Sarah bites her lip as she returns to her initial spot on the bed beside him, lifting up the necklace before placing it in his hand. "That's mine. That was given to me on my birthday. I didn't know it was important, until Josef--he asked me to give a locket exactly like this one to a man named Damon."
The part of it that unsettles her so much is that he made it sound like the locket was part of why he'd be killed in the first place.
The dread keeps sinking into her stomach like a stone.
She still doesn't know what it all means, but she at least now knows it means something, and why, why on earth would her father give her something that looks exactly like an object that would get her friend killed?
It makes no sense, or if it does, Sarah doesn't want to see it.
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The angel is not going to make friends.
The angel is not going to go bowling.
She may feel now like it was all pretending, like it hurts more that she did all of that, that she was pretending all that time.
"I just..." Jeremy pauses a moment as he takes in a deep breath that does nothing to settle the feeling in his chest. "I don't want our friendship to ever hurt you because you feel like it's-- it's not who you are or what- it was pretending to not be the angel instead of just being Sarah. I know I will never understand what it's like to have a Calling, and I'm not... claiming to."
Just he knows there's a difference between the two.
Between Sarah and the Calling part of her, the angel part.
"It is. It's really important, and it would be a lot scarier to die alone... in darkness, when it's cold and painful. You do good," Jeremy says to her with a small smile. "I kind of hate that you... have to do it at all. I know it's not fair to hate it, but I do." He hates that she has to see what she does, how it must change her, how it must hurt her. But she should get to be her too, Sarah too.
He's so used to death at this point even the cold, painful kind doesn't scare him at all.
Maybe that's bad, he doesn't know but he likes thinking of what she does, of how much different that would have felt if they'd had angels of death in his own universe.
Jeremy is looking away from her in turn, and it's a good thing she can't see his face, because it crumples for just that moment where neither of them are looking at each other. His chest feels... it feels a little bit like it's on fire.
He swallows past the feeling in his throat. That question echoes through his head that he asked his sister before Damon made him forget it all, and then he pushes past it. He's older now.
He's older, more grown up, and he doesn't ask the universe these things like he expects that it's something about him that does it. Not right now anyway, he doesn't ask it now.
Like he expects it's something about him that should be changed, that would stop the onslaught.
Jeremy swallows thickly, but he doesn't say anything in response. It's an answer in and of itself, and there's nothing to say. "That's young," he says softly like Vicki didn't die at that young age, like someone dying after they've spent over a hundred years as a vampire makes it any better.
He does not expect her to move after he tells her what he does, but then she does move and he's moving forward on the bed to look after her as she gets back to her feet. Jeremy holds his hand out and nearly shudders. "I--" Jeremy looks up at her. "It's Society. You can tell by this symbol on it, but... Damon. You- Did you meet Damon? He's from my universe. It's... kind of how I got involved in all of this."
And he doesn't really like thinking of her around Damon even if Damon has saved lives, he's done the opposite too and he's really dangerous after he's been hurt.
Jeremy knows Josef's death hurt him from what Elena said.
He looks up from the locket in his hand. "Who gave this to you?"
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She listens to him, and she wants to believe him, but it hasn't felt that way in the past... oh, seventy-two hours? And she just woke up from however long it was she'd spent passed out, which means she's not at her most rational. "Other people would've balked. Thank you for... not making a big deal out of it," she says, when he mentions he saw the angel, the wings and the almost focused not human look that means the Calling is in charge.
"See, that's the thing. I don't want... our friendship to hurt you, either," she says, and she knows that's more likely of the both alternatives. She can't imagine why his friendship would hurt her, when there are so many reasons as to why he could--Sarah shakes her head. "That's--it's never felt like pretending. That... I know that was me, with you."
But she can't ignore that other part of her that feels so much stronger sometimes, that takes away what choice she'd make if she could, since there really isn't. There's the angel, and the angel feels like it could take over whole.
It did take over whole, for three days.
Sarah doesn't say anything at first. The words that come to mind seem a betrayal to the angel, but maybe it's more proof that he's right, that there is more to her, or that she wants it to be more. She brings a knee to her chest and lets herself say quietly, "Sometimes I really hate it, too."
Maybe it's not fair. It's not as if life is all about giving them what's fair.
If it was, Elizabeth wouldn't be dead.
She doesn't see his reaction, no, but the silence feels deafening, and she knows in that moment there's not much else to explain. She quickly cups the side of her face and wipes away at it, doesn't look back at him until the knot inside of her throat is gone.
Sarah bites her lip to keep it from quivering as she nods in agreement.
It's very, very young, but she's helped younger to die. Sixteen-year old, eleven-year old, six-year old. Chicago doesn't discriminate that way, and death always has a date for everyone. "She was the strangest girl I'd ever met," she says, and she knows Jeremy will understand that is of the highest compliment. Because Elizabeth was strangely wonderful and amazing.
"You'd have liked her."
And she thinks Elizabeth would've liked him, too.
She thinks Elizabeth might've been happy to know Sarah had made more friends, that she'd let herself despite being scared to, despite knowing what it means, despite having more to lose by giving herself the chance.
Sarah brings an arm to curve on the back of her neck, expression indescribable for a second there. Damon was scary and unfeeling and he did all those things to those men, who weren't good, but--she would not mind if she never saw him again. "Briefly?" she answers in admission. "Josef asked me to give him something before he..." Well. "I didn't even know him very well, but... Elizabeth was in love with him, and they were his dying words, so... I called him over."
How could she not?
And if she hadn't called him and Sonny over, she would be dead. Those men would've killed her, or upon recognizing her... she's not sure what would've happened. It seems like death would've been the most preferable of the options, and at least now she can hide the secret that she knows.
Sarah had no idea it was a symbol.
It didn't mean anything to her until last night. It was only elegant engraving, almost the shape of a fleur de lis, but not quite. "Symbol? But..." Sarah leans in to take a closer inspection on it, and one can see the dawning in her face as she realizes it, recognizing it also from Josef's locket.
And then she is hesitating, as if by saying it makes it all the more real somehow, but if there's anyone she can trust, she knows it's Jeremy. There's really no one else she'd be able to tell, or wonder with, or try to figure it out.
"My dad," she says, again as a reluctant admission, and his reaction to it tells her all she needs to know. "It belonged to my mom, and before that it belonged to her mom, and... so forth. I was supposed to have it when I turned seventeen as some sort of family tradition."
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Not when she feels like the parts that are Sarah, that that's only pretending.
"Well, I mean there's different ways of hurting, and... I think what you're referring to- I've lost people, but I wouldn't want to not have had them to avoid the hurt," Jeremy says, and he knows what she means before she's even said it in words. It's pretty obvious to him, and he knows-- he gets why. "Okay, I'm glad it's never felt like pretending. I wouldn't want that to. It was you, and it's-- that's how I know that it's not pretending when you do those other things."
The things that aren't related to the angel.
He doesn't think that means she is ignoring that other part of her or pretending like it doesn't exist.
But he knows he doesn't understand it, could never understand it as well as someone else who has experienced it.
Jeremy looks sideways at her, concern hits him quickly. His hand slides down her arm, down the side of her as he keeps her close to him, and he nods. It's reassuring almost to hear those words, because it is proof that there's more to her than the angel but he's-- he hates she has to do something that she hates sometimes.
He hates that.
It's not fair. Nothing really is in life.
He gets that.
People don't get what they deserve. It's not how the world works at all. It's not how any of this works.
And there's silence between them and nothing to say as they both deal with the feelings, twisting up within them. The truth won't change. And Jeremy won't leave.
He listens to what she says about her friend, because he wants to, because she should be able to talk about her, to remember her in more than the way that she died. Jeremy would want that for her, because she was her friend and sometimes when you love someone and you lose them all you can remember is everything that hurt about losing them.
Jeremy wants her to think about the happier things too, because they were there. They were friends. He laughs softly at what she says, and he does know that this is the highest compliment that can be paid to anyone in the world.
"Well, if she really was as strange as you say, I'm sure that I would have liked her a lot," he says with a small but sad smile as he glances sideways at her. "It's too bad I didn't get the chance to meet her."
Elizabeth would have liked him, and she would have loved knowing that Sarah made more friends, has someone looking out for her. It's part of why she had to write to Charlie to ask him to look out for her because she didn't know for sure.
But he wanted someone looking out for her like Sarah would look out for her in the end.
Jeremy nods at her answer, letting out a breath. "Okay, that's... good. He's not really-- He's a vampire," he says finally, not minding if she knows because he trusts her. "Oh. I wonder... what he gave Damon. I think now that Josef's gone, they'll be looking out for those connected to him."
And that means his sister.
At the end of the day. It worries him like something gnawing at his chest, cleaning it out.
Jeremy nods at the question. It's a symbol, one of those Society symbols. Damon and Elena both wanted him to memorize it so he could know what to avoid, what to look out for.
He winces at the admission, looking at the locket and then back up at her face. "You don't... think he's involved with them do you?" And how... how terrible that would be for her if it was true.
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Sarah is quiet as he speaks, lowering her gaze when he says he knows what she means, and she doesn't know if that's better or not. She presses her lips together and fiddles with the locket in her hand. She could try to explain it better, but there's really no explaining or understanding until it's been lived.
And he did see her with the Calling at its strongest, so maybe he does have an idea.
"How... exactly do you think you'd be hurting me?" she asks in genuine confusion. "And even if you ever did, I mean, it's kind of inevitable isn't it? People hurt each other, some when they mean to and most when they don't. It's just a part of ... relating to each other, I think."
She can't be too sure.
It's not as if she's made too many connections in her life to tell, but it's what would make sense to her. When there are feelings involved there is always the risk of being hurt, and that's what's kept her on the sidelines a lot of the time, but she honestly can't fathom him doing anything to her that would make her think being his friend wasn't worth it.
Even now, that she's lost Elizabeth and there's that urge to retreat.
Sarah closes her eyes and looks down once he grabs her arm. There's that urge again to retreat, to back away, to lick her wounds alone, and there's another side pulling her in an entirely different direction, and it wants to hold on.
Her face almost crumples as she leans forward and locks her arms around his neck. It's not a tight hug. She's just sad, and she doesn't know what to do with it, and he's her closest friend in this world, and she hates he's involved in this to begin with. It means more dangers and threats and the possibility something like that could happen to him, too.
And she really does hate it sometimes.
She hates being an angel and she hates living in this city and she hates that no matter how much you fight and how much you do, it's not going to be enough.
She also laughs a little, and the breath catches in her throat as she almost chokes on the sound, but she nods. He would've liked her, and it is a shame that he didn't meet her, that it was--it was all too soon, but the angel knows it was time, and Sarah doesn't know much of anything anymore still, just that they would've liked each other.
"Oh," she says softly at Jeremy's confession. It's not a big reaction, not even surprised, just a small oh. "That... makes sense," is all she says. The speed and the look in his eyes and--she glances over at Jeremy, hazel green eyes dark with concern. "There was another man there with Damon. I don't know if they were working together, but they both seemed to know what was going on, and... there has to be something that can be done."
To keep them from looking to those connected to Josef.
Since that would mean this Damon person, and Jeremy says he's involved because of Damon.
Sarah doesn't answer immediately. There's what she wants to be true and what she thinks is true and what she dreads is true, and not all of them are the same thing. "I hope not?" she answers, almost too quietly. "It'd mean my whole life was a lie."
It's not as if she ever knew that much about her mother.
Her dad's painted a wonderful picture of her, given Sarah plenty of random stories that don't really say much about her at the end of the day. Sarah doesn't know where she was born, she doesn't know who her family was, what her last name was, how she ended up in America, or even how she died. It's nothing her father's ever wanted to talk about because it was too painful, but now she wonders.
She wonders if he hasn't talked about it because he can't.
"Either way, I'm going to find out." She shrugs a little helplessly. "What choice do I have? They killed my friend. I have this locket. And they're apparently a threat to you, too."
It's not something she can just walk away from.
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"Thank you," he says, small smile on his face though there isn't much happiness to be found since he's still concerned about her. Her friend just died, and it still wasn't long ago that they walked through the remains of it together.
He glances at her at the question and looks down. "It's just because you said that it hurt more, that when you... you were being a teenager it wasn't real. It was pretend and that hurt more, and I know that our friendship wasn't pretending, but that's what I was afraid of at first."
Jeremy could tell the Calling part wouldn't consider him a friend, doesn't have friends. He could tell that she only just recognized him, and there was a big difference in who she was before she passed out to who she is right now.
There's a difference in movement, a difference in her She may not only be a teenager. She's more than that, but she is a teenager too and that's what makes it harder. It's what makes it more painful that she has this angel within her too.
He will always think her friendship is worth it, and Jeremy gets it more now. He understands that her friend was eighteen, an angel of death who wanted to die to escape insanity. At 18. That's not far away for her, but he's here. There's nothing that's going to change that.
There's nothing at all that could change that, because he's fiercely protective, fiercely loyal when he's found someone that he cares about.
He cares for her a lot, more than he even anticipated until he'd seen her on the street outside of her house. And then it had hit him like fire, like a hold had been driven through the center of him. The hold hasn't eased, the worry hasn't eased either, and it likely... won't for awhile still.
When she leans forward and locks her arms around his neck, he tightens his hold on her, bringing her closer to him. Jeremy closes his eyes, and her hug might not be very tight but his is. It's tight, and it's saying the hundreds of things that he can't say, feeling the sadness that she so obviously feels and doesn't know what else to do with.
There's nothing that can be done with it but feel it, but she doesn't have to do so alone even if the urge is there. His arms slide around her back, and he keeps her close.
Jeremy knows he would have liked her. If she was strange, if she was Sarah's friend, she must have been pretty awesome, because Sarah is amazing and he really can't imagine what angels of death have to go through, how they ever survive. It would take so much strength to endure, and here she is, Sarah again, hurting and broken but--
But she's still here, still reaching out and that's not easy.
Jeremy glances at her with equal concern because she says oh in a way like she understands, and he's-- god, he's eternally relieved that she wasn't killed too. He knows how Damon gets, he's been on the other side of it. "That... was probably someone from the Crowbar. I guess they were working with Damon and Josef to try to figure all this out," he says softly, and he has to remember to ask Elena if she's ever gone and seen them.
He'd want to go too especially since they're kind of all in this together, not that he wants to trust people he hasn't even met.
He closes his eyes at her answer, and it's a wince, but he keeps an arm around her, because... because what else can he do? What can he say? "I hope not too. It's probably just-" Jeremy shakes his head. "He probably didn't even know what it meant when he gave it to you, family heirloom."
Jeremy has no way of knowing for sure, but he is going to hope it's not either. Because she doesn't need anything else on top of all the rest. It's been rough enough losing her friend in that terrible way without finding out that too.
He shifts on the bed, looking confused at what she said, not-- less confused and more concern. "Wait, what does that mean? You're going to find out?"
Jeremy understands because in her position, he would need to find out too. But... it doesn't mean he's not concerned too, very concerned.
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Strange is cave paintings and northern lights and haley's comets.
The world itself can be her own little wonderland if she looks at it through proper lighting. It's always felt that way but today and for many days that will follow, she will just hate it. She will hate every inch of the world for what it does to those that deserve it least.
"Oh," she says again quietly, and she sees how he would think that, after what she said, and she winces lightly, running a hand over her own arm. "I'm sorry. I sometimes--I don't know. I'm used to being alone, I guess. Which sounds... so emo now that I've said it, but...it feels easier to retreat and harder to care. I do know the only way your friendship could hurt me is if it was suddenly gone."
That is what would hurt most.
Not through death--though that would obviously hurt but it's not something she'd hold him accountable for--but just not being her friend one day.
Once his hold tightens, she lets herself do the same. Sarah doesn't realize she's cried until the shirt at his shoulder feels wet against her cheek. She is reaching out, surprisingly. It's why she can't always hate being an angel. It was the angel that existed throughout most of the worst of the night. It was the angel that took death in, welcomed it and stood fast and steady.
If it'd been only Sarah experiencing this night, she wouldn't have made it.
Even if she'd lived, she'd have been too traumatized to ever come back from something like that. The angel can make her stronger, can let her know this too, shall pass, as horrible as it seems and as much as it hurts right now.
She is more than the angel and without it, she'd be less, too.
If Sonny hadn't locked her in the bathroom, Sarah knows she would've been a goner. "Yeah, I think...he said something like that. Crowbar," she says with a frown, and the narration realizes Sarah didn't answer something in the previous tag that she'll do now. "He gave me a key to give to Damon. It opened a safe box. I don't know what was inside it, but he made it sound vital. That it'd have everything... Damon would need."
For what, she's not entirely sure. It's obvious they are going to try and bring these people done but... how on earth would someone go around that?
The narration feels that Josef might've also been able to find a ring of some sort for Elena that would gaslight the fact she's a doppelganger, but that still needs to be discussed, since he would've left literally things Damon would absolutely need.
She once again doesn't expect him to say anything. There's really nothing to say to something like that, but she doesn't fight the arm around her, only settles back, half-lying against him, since she's still tired. "Yeah, maybe," she says, turning it over in her palm. The sight of it alone makes her feel sick, that something like this could get two people so violently murdered.
What are genuinely the odds of it being a coincidence, her father not knowing?
Sarah glances back down at the locket, fingers sifting through the chain, before she looks back up at him. He's given her the truth and the least she can do is give it back. "I'm... getting to the bottom of this. The locket, why they wanted it, why she had to be murdered, too. The other man, Sonny, he said if I ever needed anything, I could go to him, to the Crowbar. I know they'd help me and they have resources I don't and..."
Her voice trails off, and she swallows thickly, fighting the tightening in her throat once more. "I really have to do this, Jeremy."
For herself, for him too, but more importantly, she needs to do this for Elizabeth.
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