"No." The correction is one of the few things he does sound certain about. "We don't have to. But...we're going to." And that was almost as bad. If it didn't kill them this time, he'd be really surprised. "We'll find a way....we'll look for others. We'll...we'll figure it out." He's remarkably less certain by this point.
He reaches the car and lets Eileen have the umbrella, braving a brief drenching while sliding into the driver's seat of his car. It's not like it mattered now. This is downright cheery to what they were likely going to see before long. He stifles a shudder.
Once Eileen's sitting, he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Eileen...we don't...don't have to. Sometimes I think-" He's staring straight ahead, but the words aren't coming out right and he frowns. "I just...after this is over....I- I....I don't know." Despite how much he wants to tell her they should leave this world, even he doesn't think he can now. He might not have his own parents, but he's attached to hers, to her family, to their life. It's a hard thing, to leave everything behind. And right now, he can't think about how likely it is this will change everything again.
She understands perfectly well what he's saying, but speaking back is a different kind of task than it usually is, and her response is not as diplomatically phrased as she'd usually prefer. She's at least tactful about not rudely contradicting him with some childish variant on 'No to your no, we do have to!' "It wouldn't be a life, thinking every night about who we left to die." She pales a little at her own mention of death, squeezing her eyes shut and bringing a hand to her mouth. Looking a little crushed, but at least no crying today. "O-oh God. Christ, I, I just..." Just wants the impossible, as she imagines he does as well. To do the right thing and have her safe normal life too, these two things mutually exclusive yet that's exactly what she has to try to pull off.
Her voice is a little muffled by her hand, but the look on her face is unmistakably apologetic. "I don't know how many times the 'I was in a car crash' excuse can hold up." It's only been used once so far by her, but she's hard pressed to think of anything else that would be able to explain that level of shocked aftermath, much less if either of them gets hurt again. They might come off more suspiciously this time, especially with law enforcement in their own backyard involved in the problem. But this goes beyond uncertainty about others accepting her excuses; she doesn't know how many more times she can make them. Eileen can be a half-decent actress sometimes, when it's congeniality the job calls for, but she's definitely no con artist. It's suddenly abundantly clear, all the lines and edges of it laid out in sharp relief, that she's going to have a breaking point sooner or later when it comes to having two lives. When and where might she crack? In front of her parents? In front of the police?
The tapes click against each other as her hands tighten their grip on the handbag in her lap. "What if I can't...? You're the only constant thing." She sounds a little distant, but depths of both gratitude and regret are written all over her face.
"If..." That word hangs in the air as he thinks it over. There were so many 'ifs' about this, and more of them involved something awful happening to the both of them. He puts one hand on her arm, needing the contact possibly more than he's trying to comfort her. It's a difficult thing to say, and difficult for her to hear. But maybe it's necessary. "If you can't...then we won't. There's....god, you know how much it's been. For you, for both of us. It might- it might never be enough, but...we've earned some peace."
He wouldn't be saying this if he was alone, but Eileen deserves better than all of this, and it makes him angry that she has to be reminded of it again and again. Every time they touch that damn place, it's like nothing's changed. He'd never admit that being angry about something is a lot easier than being scared.
He adds on just a little bit to what, for him, is almost a speech. "And I'll...I'm going to be there with you, no matter what happens." He wishes he was more sure than that.
Her eyes drift closed and she hangs her head with a faint sigh of relief. 'I'm going to be there with you' is a promise that's lost none of its importance or potency for her. It's been a long time since she woke up in a hospital battered and mutilated with his the only human face in sight, and a great deal has happened in the interim. But the primal terrifying need to keep company, especially his, closeby hasn't gone away. Perhaps because, unlike number sequences and umbilical cords, this is not something that made its debut in Walter's world.
A more permanent and peaceable assurance of his presence is very attractive, the reality is that if she can't manage to hold together a life like this in the end, it won't be for lack of trying. It's just the inescapable fact and that's all there is to it: "Two people. She's nineteen..." Her expression crumples a little at the thought.
But trying to bring her thoughts back to the immediate at least grants her a little more clarity. "If it's never enough, then... God, I'm no good at, at looking real far ahead." She takes his hand in both of hers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a whisper that sounds harsh in the absence of other voices, "But I am going to hold you to that." Eileen squeezes his hand and somehow manages to look chiding and comforting, to sound desperate and certain at the same time. "No looking for peace in the wrong place." Naming the town aloud isn't coming to her right now.
He turns and stares at her for a long time, his hand turning so his palm rests against her cheek. He would have to be enough to help her. They'd be enough for each other, it was just how things were, wasn't it? They'd help these people and it would hurt them, but they'd do it anyway, and they'd pick up the pieces afterwards. Maybe it'd destroy them this time, but he can't let himself think that way. And neither can she.
"No," he finally answers quietly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Not in the wrong place. I promise."
He squeezes her shoulder, then starts the car. They have a lot of work to do now.
He reaches the car and lets Eileen have the umbrella, braving a brief drenching while sliding into the driver's seat of his car. It's not like it mattered now. This is downright cheery to what they were likely going to see before long. He stifles a shudder.
Once Eileen's sitting, he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Eileen...we don't...don't have to. Sometimes I think-" He's staring straight ahead, but the words aren't coming out right and he frowns. "I just...after this is over....I- I....I don't know." Despite how much he wants to tell her they should leave this world, even he doesn't think he can now. He might not have his own parents, but he's attached to hers, to her family, to their life. It's a hard thing, to leave everything behind. And right now, he can't think about how likely it is this will change everything again.
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Her voice is a little muffled by her hand, but the look on her face is unmistakably apologetic. "I don't know how many times the 'I was in a car crash' excuse can hold up." It's only been used once so far by her, but she's hard pressed to think of anything else that would be able to explain that level of shocked aftermath, much less if either of them gets hurt again. They might come off more suspiciously this time, especially with law enforcement in their own backyard involved in the problem. But this goes beyond uncertainty about others accepting her excuses; she doesn't know how many more times she can make them. Eileen can be a half-decent actress sometimes, when it's congeniality the job calls for, but she's definitely no con artist. It's suddenly abundantly clear, all the lines and edges of it laid out in sharp relief, that she's going to have a breaking point sooner or later when it comes to having two lives. When and where might she crack? In front of her parents? In front of the police?
The tapes click against each other as her hands tighten their grip on the handbag in her lap. "What if I can't...? You're the only constant thing." She sounds a little distant, but depths of both gratitude and regret are written all over her face.
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He wouldn't be saying this if he was alone, but Eileen deserves better than all of this, and it makes him angry that she has to be reminded of it again and again. Every time they touch that damn place, it's like nothing's changed. He'd never admit that being angry about something is a lot easier than being scared.
He adds on just a little bit to what, for him, is almost a speech. "And I'll...I'm going to be there with you, no matter what happens." He wishes he was more sure than that.
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A more permanent and peaceable assurance of his presence is very attractive, the reality is that if she can't manage to hold together a life like this in the end, it won't be for lack of trying. It's just the inescapable fact and that's all there is to it: "Two people. She's nineteen..." Her expression crumples a little at the thought.
But trying to bring her thoughts back to the immediate at least grants her a little more clarity. "If it's never enough, then... God, I'm no good at, at looking real far ahead." She takes his hand in both of hers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a whisper that sounds harsh in the absence of other voices, "But I am going to hold you to that." Eileen squeezes his hand and somehow manages to look chiding and comforting, to sound desperate and certain at the same time. "No looking for peace in the wrong place." Naming the town aloud isn't coming to her right now.
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"No," he finally answers quietly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Not in the wrong place. I promise."
He squeezes her shoulder, then starts the car. They have a lot of work to do now.
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