(Untitled)

[little_moons]

I'm sitting in the sand.

I don't know how long I've been here.

I didn't run away, this time. We went home, after the fired died down, a small, wooden box of ashes held in Tom's hands. We had dinner. We sat in heavy, aching silence in the living room, Mike's absence hanging thick and suffocating between us. This home that had been warm and happy

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[off_the_ceiling]

Jess did what she could. She helped make sure the Winchester didn't fall apart and she helped make sure her family didn't fall apart, but it all felt so small when she saw Neil in the water and thought about what he'd been going through and what was still to come. But here, too, she would do what she could.

She left her shoes on the sand and was glad she'd worn a dress today, the light skirt barely falling past her knees as she walked a few steps into the ocean to Neil's side. She didn't want to offer empty platitudes, no "it'll be all right," definitely no, "he's in a better place"; he'd either heard them too many times or didn't want to hear them at all. Probably both.

"I taught myself to make baklava today," she said instead. After the funeral, but she didn't think that needed to be said. "Or at least I tried. Turns out phyllo dough is a bitch to roll out by hand. It was kind of a disaster." But it had been good to have something physical to focus on for a while, so the absences of people--both still alive and otherwise--weren't quite so keen.

[little_moons]

Coughing out a dry laugh, the sound of it brittle from more than just smoke, I say, "Don't think I've had it before." I know that it's a pastry, and that it's Greek or Italian or fucking Jewish or whatever, but I didn't even really know you could make phyllo dough. Far as I knew, it comes from a box in the freezer section.

"Didn't fuck up my kitchen too much, right?"

[off_the_ceiling]

"Nah," said Jess, as a little wave kicked up over her ankles and tickled her calves. "And I promise I didn't use it to drive anyone away either, not even the people I don't like. I made some pie after, to make up for it, and hid one away in the back. In case you wanted to take it for the girls."

[little_moons]

"Thanks," I murmur, and I mean it, no matter how distant it might sound, "They'll like that."

I'm quiet for a moment, chewing on a hangnail and tossing the butt of my cigarette into the water. When I do open my mouth, it's to admit, "I haven't been there since yesterday mornin'." There's something about the place... Too many fuckin' memories. It's hard enough just to go home, the thought of walking into that kitchen... I just can't.

[off_the_ceiling]

"I could bring it by," said Jess, though that wasn't really what this was about. Or she could go over to the the Winchester with Neil, not leave him alone with the place, but she'd let him take the lead on this. She'd lost people on the island, but always with that comforting little myth they told themselves that anyone who disappeared from the island was just going home. Neil didn't have that. "I could bring anything by that you guys need."

[little_moons]

"Yeah, I-- We could probably use... Stuff. Fuck, I dunno," I say, pushing a frustrated hand through my hair, "Somebody brought food over earlier, and we ate it. Tom's the one keepin' it together enough to remember when we're supposed to fuckin' eat and when the girls need to get dressed and sleep and all that shit, and I just... I feel like I'm losin' my mind."

[off_the_ceiling]

She would have been a lot more surprised if he'd said he wasn't having any trouble keeping it together. She didn't even know how she would have coped if it had been her.

"There's no shortage of people who can help," she said after a moment, reaching out to him but not quite touching. "Who want to help. You're not supposed to...I don't know anybody I think could keep things going without a hand right now."