Thank you to Kara for the beta. I am absolutely terrified of new fandoms but I just love this show and these characters!
Damaged.
The word rolls around in her mind and she clings to it with the desperation of someone who's drowning. A single word, both meaningful and meaningless but encompasses everyone; everything she knows. Her father, Adam, Lucas, Connie (God, Connie) and even Ben. She surrounds herself with the simple truth that nothing is at is seems and hates herself for that.
She wonders when it became easier to hide the truth in quiet lies. (I'm fine, I'm ok, There's nothing wrong).
She stares down into her drink and watches the amber colored liquid swirl around. The color reminding her of the sunsets she use to watch as a little girl; its color creeping away from the land only to have the darkness of the night blanket around it. She misses that little girl and knows that her confidence is lie.
She just wants to forget everything for one night (just tonight, please) and start this cycle she's trapped in all over tomorrow. She brings the glass to her lips wanting to savor the slide of the liquor as it makes its way down her throat. A hand reaches out and grabs the glass before she can drink from it. Rarely caught off guard, she turns to retrieve her glass and looks up into eyes of Lucas.
"I've killed for less," she murmurs, her hand outstretched for the glass.
"Mind if I sit?"deep brown eyes cut through to her and she wonders (not for the first time) if he can really see her. He hands the glass back to her and watches as she finishes the contents in one swallow.
"As you like, I'm not staying." She reaches a hand into her pocket and tosses a couple of bills on the bar. Grabbing at her coat she tries to brush past only to have him reach over and tug gently on her arm.
"Stay. One drink with me." He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
She wants to (something she will question herself on later), and he sees the hesitation in her stance.
"We don't even have to talk to each other, we can pretend we're strangers." His eyes hold a strange sadness that compell her to slide back into the seat she recently vacated.
"Aren't we though? Strangers?"
He half smiles before he lifts his arm to gain the bartenders attention and points to her now empty glass; indicating two refills. He turns back and watches her stare straight ahead into the glass wall behind the bottles of liquor. "Yeah."
The bartender drops off their drinks and she eagerly reaches for her glass. Silence builds between them but she finds that its not awkward, isn't weighted. The things they've seen these past months, only what they know shrouds them.
And binds them in a way she's not entirely comfortable with.
She's so tired. She still wakes up with the bittersweet taste of tears and memories; they linger like the ash and dust that took Adam from her. There's comfort in the pain and she allows it to hold her in its empty arms. She's not ready to let go of it; the rage, the hurt, the emptiness only fuel her.
But she's still tired.
He doesn't say anything, just continues to share her silence. He leans back to finish his drink and grabs his coat. She repeats the motions she'd started earlier when she had tried to leave last (a small part of her regrets the loss of his company as it was).
His voice, quiet in the dark of the pub, stops her, "Do you ever think that the price is too high and the rewards are few and so far in between?"
She looks at this quiet man, with all the horrors that he's face and the scars he still wears (eight years he wears), asking her if the price is too high. She thinks she's starting to understand the echo of silence between them and isn't quite sure where it changes.
"We wouldn't do it if the price was too high."
His eyes are bleak as they stare back at her, "Right. For queen and country."
She keeps moving, weaving her way through the crowd; wonders how she even got here and realizes that she has no one to blame but herself.