[for Sharon] [and Gene]

[remnantofjoseph]

[Continued from here]

He starts to remember in bits and pieces, as he turns corners and opens doors.  He keeps one hand on the wall like he's in a maze, then there are no more walls and he sets off for the beach, not consciously, just knowing that any aimless direction will eventually lead to the shore.  It's a small island.

He remembers the laundry

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[blessed_by_god]

Sharon reached down to help Joe up, but he was already more or less there. She pulled her hand back. She didn't even know if he wanted her there, but she couldn't let him go off to points unknown without being sure.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

[remnantofjoseph]

"Fine," not really talking to her, or even to himself. He can't just stand there, can't take root or he'll be stuck in it, so he takes another step, and now the fake leg drags in the sand. Couldn't get away from any of them if he wanted to.

[blessed_by_god]

"I'm sorry," Sharon blurted out, feeling pretty frakking helpless in all this. She still couldn't get the images, made large and crystal clear on the screen, out of her head. "I'm sorry I watched it. I'm sorry you had to see it, and..." She didn't know how to say it, just shook her head.

[remnantofjoseph]

"What is wrong with this place," he growled, watching the tide build before its fall. It was not what had happened, hardship was life, but there were times when the island seemed structured with it, intelligent for it, and cruel. He lost his leg because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time; he watched it happen, and the others watched it happen, because something wanted them to. He couldn't blame Shari, couldn't blame any of them, though he was nauseous with it and wanted to lash out. "Don't be," he remembered to say, before wandering away from her and retching on the sand. Some wry amusement in it, his mind turned back to her and the baby, and he would've said something about morning sickness but the taste of it was thick in his mouth. He couldn't speak to her with it there, but he thought of things to say, distracting himself by wondering how he might cheer her. He could offer drinks, but thinks again of the baby. He could ask where Hera was and distract her in turn. He could even take her home, let her meet the

[blessed_by_god]

Sharon watched Joe's awkward walk as he made his way further up toward the water, only looking away when he threw up. Her eyes burned, whether from the wind or something else she couldn't say, but the ache in her chest was for him.

When he was done she thought of leaving, giving him space, maybe finding his Gene to come bring him home. Only, when she finally moved it was to his right side, threading an arm around his back and under his, offering herself to lean on.

[remnantofjoseph]

He didn't need to lean on her, but realized it might make her feel better if he did--and relaxed against her enough that she might feel helpful.

[blessed_by_god]

Sharon just stood like that at first, turning her face to press her forehead to his temple. One thing that hadn't changed when her body had, was her need for touch.

"You never told me how that birthday card went over," she finally murmured, hoping to bring up something pleasant to focus on.

[remnantofjoseph]

Coughing, he cleared his throat, tried to be rid of the taste. Joe sighed and leaned a bit more, something going out of him, like a bird with its spirit worn out, getting lighter. "He liked it," and maybe it was good to fill the empty space with that day. He could feel himself needing to sit down, but the wooden support had no joints, could only stubbornly hold him up and wear him out. There had to be something to give her, some secret, or joy, to distract her from what she'd seen. "He said he loves me," he offered.

[blessed_by_god]

Sharon smiled, one she didn't have to force. "Of course he does. How could he not?" she asked, bringing her hand up to run her fingers over his cheek. "I bet you do all kinds of sweet things for him."

[remnantofjoseph]

He leaned into the touch like a dog and shook his head. "Not really. Not enough." He was asking himself why, on some level, but the level with an answer was too deep for him to hear it. Just the moth in his chest, and the hole in his side, the fear and vulnerability.

[blessed_by_god]

Sharon stroked Joe's hair like she would have with Hera, soothing. She found it hard to believe, with the way he had been with her, and wondered if he was telling the truth or just being modest. "Maybe you should start, then," she murmured. "I hope he's sweet to you."

[remnantofjoseph]

"Wouldn't worry about that if you knew him," he said. And maybe she was right, maybe what he'd been thinking was true, and he ought just give in. Pushing himself took enough energy without pushing everyone around him as well, and he was too tired to do either, right now.

[blessed_by_god]

"Good." Sharon felt a little better, knowing there was someone who was taking care of Joe. Someone who loved him.

"Let's go," she finally said, giving Joe's waist a small tug. "Your leg must be hurting from all the walking and standing. You should get home."

[remnantofjoseph]

Still a little weightless, but it came with a loss of strength, so that he went dully where she lead. As they neared the homestead, he didn't ask how she knew the way, he only thought of the people inside, and Gene, and how he had to salvage some of that strength on the way, so they wouldn't see him like this. He wanted to give in and let her hold him up, and lead him home, but it wasn't in his nature--by the time they could see the front porch, he had disengaged from her arm, and walked on his own, beside her.

[le_traiteur]

There is somethin' wrong. I know as soon as I see him, even though it's not obvious, maybe not the sort of thing that anybody else would notice. It's in the tense slope of his shoulders, like he's carryin' a weight he wishes he could lay down, too much like the way he was the whole of that first month.

I'm sittin' on the front porch eatin' an orange, a little pile of spent peel on the step beside me. I don't get up, don't demand to know what's happened, 'cause he's got that look. Thinks he has to be strong for everyone, thinks it's somehow easier if he holds it in where I can't see. Eventually, he might let me close enough to pick it out of him, maybe bit by bit, like shrapnel.

I look to Sharon and smile, briefly and not enough to erase the furrow in my brow. I know of her though we've never met, and I'm grateful now that she's seen Joe home, even though he probably thought he didn't need it.

[blessed_by_god]

Sharon didn't begrudge Joe needing to walk without her. He didn't want to appear weak and she understood. She did place a hand momentarily on his back, though, before returning Gene's smile, her own just as tinged with worry. She remembered him now from the baseball game.

"You must be Gene," she said, offering her hand. "Joe's told me about you. You're on the same baseball team as my friend, Kara."