[A/N: realizing I'm late to the party, I have to say now that I've started, I'm intrigued by this program. I was dropped a few episodes into S2, then caught myself up with S1-6 on my portable hard drive. S2 is thus far one of my favorites though; I guess you never forget your first. And just b.c it's not on here now doesn't mean other people weren't speculating on this back when it was first on, but I can't help but wonder what would've happened if he and Lila had gotten together for real. The woulda coulda shouldas that we fanfic writers get to set to writes & rights. Anyway, the comfort in the motel scene, from a different perspective. Enjoy]
She's just told him one of her secrets. It's real… for the most part. The one major thing she's keeping from him is that she's never really been high, unless one counted the rush she gets from creative bursts and the vibrant undulating power of dancing flames.
But like a novice confessing to a priest, she lays her emotional confession at his feet, as he lay with his head in her lap, drawing comfort from her as she holds him like a pieta. And of all the questions he could ask, of all the questions she anticipated, he surprises her by simply asking if Marco deserved to die. She thinks about it a moment, the span of a few heartbeats in time, and answers truthfully with a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes and voice: yes.
The look in his eyes as he turns to regard her is amazing, completely nonjudgmental as he blesses her with quiet absolution. She hadn't done anything wrong. In that moment, she recalls that Shakespearean standby about mercy falling as a gentle drop from heaven. For as trite as that always seemed, for the infinitesimal degree of a fuck she ever gave, she understands that expression now with perfect clarity. To have him know and not care, to not turn away, to grant her that twice bless'd assurance… is truly a blessing.