Not much to say here, just some relationship development and a dive into the issue of Cam's death, etc...
Saturday comes too fast for Layla's taste, she'd put off any major decisions all week in preparation for the funeral. Her guards have been called off, though her mother's check in's feel like they're still worried about her. She trusts the decision to withdraw them, though. If Archer is out there looking for something like money, there could be more people like Layla or Camden soon.
That and she doesn't want to make a fuss at the funeral for having two people as her guard. It might raise suspicion or cause drama.
She's never really been to a funeral before, as a kid for a grandparent maybe, but the memories are so blurry. Now, it just feels unreal, like she's in a movie to perform for cameras at a funeral of someone she doesn't know. The feeling of emptiness follows her into the cab to the cemetery, even the city has a film of gray on it, the muted colors matching her mood.
It becomes bleaker as the cab stops and she proceeds with the rest of the staff. Earlier in the week, they got together to sign a card and pay for flowers to bring with them. Dressed in black slacks with a black blouse, much like everyone else there, Layla wishes she had let her curls go free to hide the tears streaming down her face.
It's hard for her to understand her own tears. Is she in mourning? Is it because of what happened and her failure to save him? Or is it because everyone else is sobbing in his family?
She tries not to grimace at the picture on the tripod stand beside the grave.
Camden's smiling face at the head of the grave overlooks them all watching his casket lower into the ground.
Leading up to this moment, she assumed there would be a moment of clarity, of peace. The priest's words were kind, insightful even, but they passed in one ear and flew out the other. She feels guilty, but Camden wasn't much of an angel from her point of view. He had his kind moments, sure, but does that excuse his terrible behavior?
She feels worse listening to his mother's sobs and watching his family disperse to hug one another. He had a whole family, one that clearly cared about him given their tears and presence.
Her stomach churns watching the dirt pack on the casket, how is this real?
That could have been her too.
The moment replays itself in her head, getting faster and faster until she jolts from her thoughts when his mother lays a hand on her shoulder.
"It means a lot that you and the rest of the staff came by," she smiles, she's a sweet looking woman. Her eyes and nose remind Layla of Cam and she feels more tears well up at the thought. "I understand you were there that day. It must be awful to live with the guilt of thinking you could have done something. If there's anything I've learned, it hurts more to hold on than it hurts to let go."
She takes a breath to look at the fresh grave, her eyes somber and teary. "I love my son, flaws and all. I understand he was involved with some sketchy people and was willing to let you go down for it. He may never know forgiveness from that, but I want you to feel it."
Layla whimpers, tears spilling down her cheeks as she regards this woman. "I'm so sorry."
"I forgive you, honey," she pats her cheek. "It's best you let yourself move on. Now, I must go and grieve with my husband."
The brunette watches her go, lumbering over to a man with some resemblance to Cam as well, he offers her a nod that she returns. An unspoken understanding between them passes, Layla's chest clenches as his eyes drift back to his wife and they turn away. The supposed forgiveness from his mother only makes her hurt more. Forgiveness is supposed to make her feel the opposite, it only fills her with anger and more sadness.
Laid to rest next to his grandparents in the outskirts of Celadon surrounded by trees and the cries of pokemon. She feels a sudden chill slip down her spine as she watches the area clear of family. A breakdown here would be dramatic, and so she opts to hold it off until she gets home.
She kneels beside the fresh grave, placing her hand on the gravestone. "I hate that you almost got me killed. I hate that you were a terrible boss. But death wasn't what I wished would happen to you. These tears are not because I'm going to grieve for you but for the life you could have had.
"Your mother, somehow, forgives me...an-and I wish she didn't because I didn't even try to save you outside of the one illusion. Was that enough time?" her voice cracks at the end of the sentence. "If she hated me, it'd be easier to let this go... Hopefully, one day I'll accept her forgiveness, not today though. I hope you rest well and the next life treats you much better."
It's the best she can say, especially after the talk they had right before his death, despite the bitterness and anger threatening to well up. Dr. Miranda told her she might start to feel that way once the shock of death fades. Bitterness because of the way she was treated and anger at his willingness to let her die. She had said nothing about the feeling after hearing forgiveness from Cam's Mom.
Keep yourself happy.
She stands up after a few more moments, wanting to feel all that she can now as she won't be back to visit. Camden was never a friend, and barely a co-worker. His death is a tragedy and will leave its mark on her, but she doesn't owe him flowers each year or an annual visit.
She taps the top of the gravestone and saunters away, wandering through the throng of others who've died recently or in the distant past. Her gut tingles at the strange sensations usually floating around a cemetery. Oftentimes it's leftover energy from the ghost types that make their living hanging around here at night. Other times, it's spirits of the departed, though Layla can't see them.
At the apartment, she drags her feet from the elevator to her door, her eyes on her keys as she fishes them out of her purse. Cam's mom's words play in her head, making her hands tremble as she wonders what kind of person forgives something like this. She pulls the keys out only to run into the last person she wants to see after all the mishaps with them already.
"Again?" Morty chuckles, holding her shoulders to steady her, his smile disappears at the tears running down her face. "The funeral?"
Instead of answer, the floodgates open despite Layla's internal screaming to keep it together. She leans into his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him as she struggles to quiet her sobbing. At first, he freezes at her touch, unsure how to proceed, and not sure how to comfort her. Then he just hugs her, knowing she's reacting to emotions of today, and he can't turn away a sobbing woman in his arms.
"Hey," he soothes, laying his head on hers. "It's okay. It's not your fault."
She just cries against him, clinging to his sweater and letting out all the frustration and sadness piling on her over the past couple of weeks. The smell of tea, and flowers fills her nostrils as Morty slips the keys from her and helps her into her apartment. He sits her at the island and passes her a wet paper towel to clean up her face while he grabs some mugs.
She welcomes the cool feeling on her face, wiping away the hot tears and snot threatening to drip out of her nostrils. "I-I'm so-sorry."
"Why?" he raises a brow at her, setting the kettle on the stove.
"This is the second time you're helping emotional wreck Layla," she replies, trying to smile.
He shrugs. "You didn't choose to meet me during this time of your life. You had a funeral today, it's understandable to cry."
"It's not the funeral," she shakes her head. "It's... It was his mom."
Morty turns to get some tea from the cupboard. "Was she mad at you?"
"No," her face crumples. "She forgave me."
He turns back to the island, placing the bags in the mugs and dipping a spoon into a jar of honey. It's silent as he takes that in, turning it over in his mind trying to understand why that would make her react this way to forgiveness. When he comes up with nothing, he exhales and leans on the counter.
"Isn't that what you want?"
"No! Or-Yes!" she struggles. "How can she forgive me, Morty? Her little boy was murdered and I was the last person to see him! I could have saved him and all I did was save myself. I'm selfish."
The kettle starts to steam, not quite ready while Morty debates this in his head. He was just dropping something off for Eusine, finally getting a key to his place while he's gone, he didn't expect to comfort her. Not that he's trying to ditch her, he's just not prepared with comforting words for her.
"I don't think you're selfish for not saving him, for plenty of reasons," he finally states. He holds up one finger. "The first is because in your quick thinking of creating an illusion to dive out of the way, Cam had a chance to fight back and decided not to." He holds up another finger, interrupting her retort. "The second is because I don't feel guilty for every single person that has gone missing."
She frowns. "What?"
"I'm clairvoyant," he explains. "A human itemfinder, also able to find people and pokemon given they're not legendary. I could visit the home of every missing person and, most likely, find them for their loved ones. But I don't, rather, I can't. It's not my responsibility, the world isn't made up of heroes, and people with powers like ours shouldn't feel like the world rests on our shoulders."
Miranda has said the same thing, and it hurts to think about it.
Layla watches Morty prepare her tea, his voice gentle as he hums a song she doesn't know and presses the warm mug into her hands. It eases her body, getting her to relax against the counter as he stays across from her. His purple eyes remind her of fields of lavender in full bloom, beautiful and comforting.
"I-I hate this," she mutters, tearing her gaze away to stare into the cup. "He was a bad manager, why does it bug me so much?"
"He was part of your life," he responds. "It's natural to feel a bit of grief for him. It'll shrink over time and no one thinks you're selfish."
She takes a sip of the hot tea, marveling at the sweet and slightly spicy taste of it as it warms her from inside. It brings a small smile to her face, as do Morty's words as she mulls over them for a bit longer. There's no doubt she'll feel guilty for a long time to come, but it's just one of those things she'll have to live with until it cools down.
Her eyes meet Morty's and she sighs. "Thank you... Again."
"Of course," he smiles, holding up his mug. "I think it's safe to say we're friends now."
"Oh, yeah," she nods. "Do you have any traumas you want to lay on me?"
He snickers. "Not now, but I know where to find you."
"Not the best start to a friendship," she breathes. "I promise my life isn't always a mess."
"Trust me, I believe you," he grins. "Honestly, I'm happy to be here."
She starts at that, her brows furrowing at him. "Really?"
"Well, yeah," he shrugs. "If I wasn't, you'd be here by yourself while Eusine runs around south Kanto. Maybe, that's why we did meet?"
"You believe in fate?" she raises a brow.
He flushes a bit. "Sorry, it sounds stupid out loud."
Layla sees the red in his cheeks and wonders who's said that to him to make him feel that way. In any case, she shakes her head at him. "It's not stupid, Morty. It's... a sweet way of looking at it."
"Just a thought I had," he mutters into his tea, relaxing at her acceptance of his theory.
"Either way, I'm glad you were there for me the first time and now," she replies. "I feel... better. If you have someplace to be, don't worry about dishes."
"I'm not in a hurry."
"In that case, I'll make some food."
He pumps his fist. "Walked right into my trap."
She balks at him, her smile evident as she stands up. "Morty! You little shit."
"I'm kidding!" he shrugs, holding up his mug and muttering, "Mostly."
With a roll of her eyes, she gets to work making something simple, a leafy salad with berries and bits of chicken. Easy on the stomach and light enough to keep her satisfied for the rest of the afternoon until she has more energy to make something more for dinner. She and Morty eat in the living room, Layla flipping on the TV to help ease the mood as she probably looks like a mess.
He's a good sport about it though, asking questions about the show she puts on, a sit-com full of dry humor. They manage to laugh between bites and share some stories about their time with Eusine. It feels... natural, hanging out with him and after all the craziness she's been tossed into, Layla's grateful for it.
"Are you going to be okay tonight?" Morty asks as they finish up their meal and he rolls up his sleeves to wash the dishes. "I'm sure Eusine will be back soon."
"I'll be okay," she smiles, her heart warming to know he cares. Don't read into it so much!
"I really appreciate what you've done for me. Don't think that you can't come to me with stuff either, not just as a 'get even' kind of thing, but a 'we're friends now and I care about you' sort of thing."
He chuckles. "My life isn't as active as yours, so whenever that happens, I'll let you know."
She grins, thanking him for the company, tea and dishes before walking him to the door. As a goodbye, she gives him a hug, wanting a second sniff of his sweet, tea-like, flowery smell. This time he returns it without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her middle and giving a gentle squeeze. She hopes he doesn't feel her heart pounding against her chest at that.
They pull away and she waves him off. He disappears into the elevator and Layla can't fight the smile on her face as she delves into her bathroom to take a shower.
Steam fills the air as she forces herself to keep a distance from her emotions towards today and focus on the future. Morty was right about it always being there, now she has to practice living with it.