When You Take, You've Got To Give
Cat drew Richard a hot bath and took his clothes, leaving him to clean and relax as he wanted while she did what she could to clean the blood from his clothes. It was something she had practice with. She scrubbed most of it out, then left it to soak over night. Then she gently knocked on the bathroom door and opened it far enough to peek in when Richard called permission. He was rubbing his hair dry with the towel, feeling somewhat better for being clean.
"You want something to eat?" she asked quietly.
"Mm, no. thank you." He slipped his mask on and gathered his things, following her up to the attic, looking at her nervously as she took his towel and the rest of his things from him. "Go lay down," she said gently as she put things away. Richard cautiously sat down on the bed, and after a moment of internal debate took off his mask, then laid down, curling himself into a ball. "I think you should just stretch out," she said as she joined him in bed. "Maybe if you go to sleep already sprawled, you won't take over my bed?" her tone was light and kind. She set her glasses on the table neck to Richard's mask and cut the light, curled up beside him, clutching the pillow to her stomach; damn cramps were the wretched frosting on an already shitty cake, weren't they just? Richard uncurled his body, felt Cat's back against his. It was calm, and peaceful. He felt the last of the tension ease from his body, and sleep overtook him, and for the first time he slept deeply and well after a kill. At some point in the night he rolled over and felt Cat beside him. It was the most natural thing to wrap his arm around her and pull her against him, fitting his body to hers. Cat wasn't much for cuddling but she didn't mind it this night. His arm around her waist was a little more pressure on her aching midsection, and his breath near her ear was relaxing. She spooned back against him and went back to sleep. And that was how they passed the night, taking and giving what small comfort they could.
What woke them in the morning was Robin frantically calling Cat's name and pounding on the door. Richard grabbed his mask and put it on, handed Cat her glasses, then pulled the sheet up over himself as Cat called for Robin to come in.
"What's on fire that you have to be so loud?" Cat said around a yawn.
"Cat...someone broke into your dad's house last night. He's...they shot him." Her voice was thick with grief, and her brown eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm so sorry, Cat...he's dead."
All the color seeped from Cat's face. She licked her lips, opened her mouth to say something, but there were no words. Her brows creased in puzzlement, because she couldn't quite make sense of what Robin just said.
"Who?" she finally managed. Robin closed the distance and sat down beside Cat, giving Richard a shooing motion with her eyes. Richard took the hint and got up, grabbing his things and leaving the room. He dressed there on the top stair, then went downstairs. He asked the first girl he saw for a pen and a sheet of paper.
Cat,
I'm so sorry. Send for me if you need me.
Richard
He folded the note and asked the girl to give it to Cat when circumstances allowed, then he slowly walked home.
Robin took Cat's trembling hands in hers.
"I don't know if the cops have any clue who did it," Robin said softly. "There's one downstairs. He wants to talk to you. Maybe he'll tell you something." Cat nodded and went about getting dressed. Once she was presentable, she went down stairs, finding a young, blue eyed cop who introduced himself as Detective Hiddles or Higgles or something like. He was gentle but thorough as he questioned Cat.
"We had dinner together Wednesday," Cat told him. "That was the last I saw of him. We would have gotten together later this week, we always did."
"Did your father have any enemies that you know of?"
"We all have enemies, Detective."
"But no one you can think of who would want to kill him?"
Cat shook her head. "No, no one. He was a kind man. He was always willing to help people out. Maybe...I don't know. Maybe someone he was helping wanted more." She could only shrug.
"It looks like someone robbed him," the detective said. "It's just my theory, but I think whoever did it was surprised to find your father home, and they panicked, and shot him. I doubt it's any consolation, but I don't think your father suffered."
"You're right," Cat said. "That doesn't console me at all."
"Yes. Well...you have my sympathies, Miss Tolliver. I'll be sure to let you know if we learn anything. You'll need to go to the morgue, just for positive identification. They'll let you know when the body will be released so arrangements for his funeral can be made."
"Thank you," Cat replied, realizing she would have to be the one to make those arrangements. The detective bid her and Robin ( who hadn't left Cat's side) a good day and left. Cat stood where she was, feeling so old suddenly. "You know," she said to Robin, although her eyes never left the patterned rug, "every time things seem to be going right, something like this happens and makes me realize it's pointless to be happy. It just gets crushed anyway."
"You don't mean that, Cat. Not really. You're upset right now and the whole world looks like shit because of it. But you're not the kind of woman who lets something like this get you down. You're too fucking mule-headed."
"So you always tell me," Cat said, a small smile forming in spite of her grief.
"And if you weren't so fucking mule-headed, I wouldn't have to keep reminding you." Cat managed to laugh even though she wanted to cry.
"You didn't, mm. Tell me it...was her. Mm, father."
"Would it have made a difference?" Nucky asked, spreading his hands questioningly. "I would think you'd prefer not to know who they are."
Richard shook his head. "I mm, would have. Done things. Differently, mm. If I...had known." Like, not gone to her after. But he should have figured the man he had killed had something to do with Cat; he lived in the same neighborhood and Nucky's main mission lately had been getting Cat to fold, so why was he surprised that Nucky would start taking out those close to her? "Not having a crisis of conscious, are you, Richard."
"No," Richard answered honestly. "Mm, I just. Don't understand why...a man. Who did, mm, nothing...to you. Had to die."
"It's war," Nucky replied as if were the most obvious thing. "People die in war. You of all people should know this." Richard regarded Nucky in a way that eventually made the treasurer feel uncomfortable. Nucky shifted and lowered his eyes from that almost blank gaze of Richard's. "That woman needs to understand I'm not fucking around," he said, wincing at the petulant tone the words came with. Richard continued to stare at Nucky, suddenly realizing the man was nothing but an overgrown spoiled brat. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and damned to anyone or anything that stood in his way. He had no qualms about doing vile and completely unneeded acts to obtain what he wanted. Richard knew this, he had always known it but now it was SO OBVIOUS and Richard knew without a doubt that he would not stop with just Cat's father. The next person Richard would be asked to kill would be one of Cat's girls, and he could not and would not do that to one of those innocent young women. But he said nothing, he just continued to stare at Nucky. "Look, Richard. You'll see...this will make it easier for you to get Cat out your way. Point out to her that it could have been her, she could be the next one. If she's starting to trust you like you think she is, she'll believe you." Nucky waited for a reply. When none was forthcoming, he said "You could at least blink, let me know you hear what I'm saying."
Richard blinked, and Nucky was certain there was a great deal of sarcasm in that small motion.
Cat stood at the graveside, staring blankly at the coffin that held her father's remains. She could feel the tears burning hotly behind her eyelids, but the anger she felt at whomever was responsible for her father's death kept her grief from manifesting itself. The past few days were nothing but a haze in which she had gone about doing what needed to be done, eating if someone shoved a plate of food into her hand, and eventually collapsing into her bed at the end of the day when she finally managed to wear herself to exhaustion. Even after the funeral, she couldn't shake the numbing anger that encompassed her. She went about her business, but her mind was no where near being on it. She could only think in dark black and red images of hurting the mysterious someone. Her temper began to grow short, and soon the girls were doing their best to avoid her. Only Robin dared approach her, and not even she was spared Cat's wrath. A week after the funeral, Opal approached Robin.
"So the other day, when we, you know...heard about Cat's dad? Um, well, Richard gave me this note to give to her, but, um...I kind of forgot about and and now, um...I don't want to bother her." The pretty young girl all but shoved the note into Robin's hand. "I didn't read it. I hope it wasn't important or anything."
"Don't worry," Robin said soothingly. "I'm sure if was important, Richard would have come by. Go on back to the lounge. I'll make sure Cat gets this." Opal gave a sigh of relief and hurried back to work. Robin waited until Opal was out of sight before she opened the note and read it. It wasn't urgent, but it did give Robin an idea.
Richard was surprised when the knock on his door came; he couldn't imagine who would come visiting him, at least no one who would come for a good reason. He carefully stood up and grabbed his gun, walking quietly across the floor. He adjusted himself just so and opened the door just far enough to peer out. Surprised, he stepped back and opened the door wider.
"Hey, Mr. Harrow!" It was the young boy who had delivered Cat's note a while back. "Can you come out please? Ma wants to talk to ya." Richard slipped his gun into his waistband and followed the boy outside, wondering why the boy's mother would want to speak to him. It made sense when he saw Robin waiting nervously on the buildings steps.
"Ma'am," Richard said politely, giving a small bow of his head. "Your son, mm. Said you wanted...to speak. To me?"
Robin nodded and smoothed her skirt nervously. "Run along home, Jason," she told her son. "Make sure you mind your father. I don't want him coming by later to tell me you were a wretched brat."
"Yes, Ma," Jason replied in that long suffering tone children were so good at affecting before he darted away, leaving Richard and Robin to stand in uncomfortable silence. Richard waited patiently for her to speak, curious to know what she wanted but understanding that sometimes you just couldn't blurt things out, no matter how much you wanted to. Robin studied him carefully; he wasn't sure if that boded well for him or not. After a moment Robin nodded as if to herself and said "Cat isn't taking the death of her father well. No, that's not true...I think she's handling the death itself well; it's the manner of his death that she's not handling well."
"Losing. Mm, someone you...care a. Great deal for. Mm, to cold. Blooded murder...hurts," Richard replied, speaking from experience.
"I would imagine so. Cat's father was a good man. We were all shocked and incredibly saddened by his death. Not as much as Cat, of course, but..." She sighed and looked away from Richard. "Right now, the only thing Cat has on her mind is finding whoever did it. It's getting unbearable to be around her. She's...she's tense and angry and constantly on edge. I don't think she's sleeping much, and getting her to eat is almost impossible. The girls are afraid to get near her, the clients can tell he's in a foul mood any time she walks into the room, although she's been doing that less than she should. She spends most of her time in her office or her bedroom. I'm worried about her, and...I don't know what to do to help her."
"And, mm, you think...I do?"
"Cat...," Robin looked at Richard, her hands palm up and flexing as if that action would help her better grope for words. "She trusts you. In a way she doesn't trust any one else. I think...if anyone can get through to her, it's you."
Richard shook his head. "If she, mm. Wanted to see me...she. Would have. Sent, mm. For me. I left a...note."
"I know. Opal gave it to me today, and I gave it to Cat, suggesting she get in touch with you."
"And?"
"She threw an ashtray at my head and told me to fuck off." Robin shrugged, as if this were normal behavior for Cat. "That's why I'm here, now. I think you're good for Cat..." Richard couldn't help but snort at the inaccuracy of that statement. If Robin only knew the truth of things. But she pressed on. "You might not believe me, but it's true. When Cat turned her attention solely to running the house, I think a small part of her died. She's good at keeping things together, making sure everything runs smoothly, and she takes good care of us. But she really missed taking clients." Robin debated how much to tell him. What did he really need to know? How could she explain it all to him? "I've known Cat for just about my whole life. She's almost like a sister to me. We've been there for each other through everything, from crushes on the boys in the neighborhood to disastrous clients. She's strong in so many ways, and incredibly stubborn. I mean INCREDIBLY...you'd have an easier time talking a brick wall into crumbling than you would talking Cat into changing her mind. She's also proud, and sometimes that's a bad thing. But she always loved her job. And she was good at it. But when her eyesight started to fail, oh...about ten years ago, she ran into a problem. It wasn't so bad at first, but it's been getting steadily worse as time goes on. She finally accepted that she was going to have to wear glasses, but one or two of her clients didn't exactly find that attractive. One night, it's been four years now, she was with one of her...I don't know how to really describe him; he was one of the more influential business men in town, and he was very used to getting his way. He wanted Cat to tie him up, whip him fuck him...the usual. But he didn't like Cat's glasses, and he told her to take them off. Cat tried to argue, saying she couldn't see with out them, he was like 'it's my money, take them off' Well, she did, and...she brought the whip too close to his face, and she ended up taking out his eye. It was ugly, and Cat was devastated. She hung it up right then and there, and didn't take another client after that...Until you showed up. That first night, she was convinced you were there because Nucky sent you, even though you denied it. But when you came back the second time, she...some spark that had gone out in her came back. The next morning, when she finally woke up and came downstairs, she looked so...pleased with herself and life in general."
"She, mm. Had every right...to be," Richard mumbled, color creeping into his face in spite of himself.
"Yes, well...Look, you've already done a lot to help Cat, and the house. I probably don't have the right to ask you, but can you please try to help her again?"
Richard could only nod. How could he not help Cat? It was his fault she was suffering, after all.
Richard nodded after a moment. "Please tell me. What, mm. The police said...happened."
Well, at least the police bought the setup, Richard thought as he made his way up the stairs to the attic. They firmly believed someone had broken into the house to rob it, been startled to find Mr. Tolliver at home, sleeping (although, really...who would be shocked to discover a man sleeping in his own bed at night?).
Robin had given him a lot of information as they had walked from his boarding house. He even asked her to show him where Cat's father had lived, acting as if it were the first time he'd seen the house.
I'm starting to think like Jimmy. That didn't exactly end well for him. I wonder...am I trying to get myself killed?
Richard didn't really have a plan. Robin had no advice to offer, either. He would just have to see where it went. He knocked gently on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. Maybe she had fallen asleep; if there was no response to the second knock he would sit and wait. But Cat did respond, yelling 'go away'. Richard turned the door knob and pushed the door open."I said go away," Cat snapped. She was standing by the window, staring out but seeing nothing. It was where she had stood the first night Richard came to the attic, but all of the strength and confidence she had displayed that night were gone. Now she radiated tension and anger. Richard cleared his throat and she turned to face him, and when he looked at her, his heart shattered. He was the cause of this; it was his fault she had dark circles under her eyes, the unhealthy pallor, the pain filled, angry look in her eyes."Go away, Richard," Cat said softly. "I'm not in the mood. See one of the other girls."
"You look. Mm, like shit."
"Fuck you."
"You just said. You...weren't in. Mm, the mood. But if...it will, mm, make you. Feel better..." He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Do you know what would make me feel better? If all of you would leave me in fucking peace. 'Just making sure you're okay, Cat,'" she mimicked. "Do you want anything cat?' 'Gee, Cat sure wish you'd cheer up'..." She shook her head and turned away from Richard once more. "Just leave me alone."
"No," Richard said as he moved deeper into the room. He didn't approach Cat, not yet. He had a vague idea...whether it would work was debatable, but it's something he thought would help. He knew it was more than likely going to hurt. "Mm, you've been...alone too much. Lately," he told her. "That, mm...isn't making you. Feel better and, I...have a mm, feeling it's only. Making you. Feel worse." He took off his mask and set it in a safe place; he couldn't afford to have this one damaged. He also set his gun and his knife aside. He knew there were weapons aplenty in Cat's room, but he wanted to keep ones that actually penetrated flesh out of her reach, if it all possible. "You've, mm, been left alone...by those dingbat girls, mm. You employ. They've left you...to wallow in..mm, misery because they're...afraid of you. Mm, and what. You might do to...them." He took off his jacket and his tie, rolled up his shirtsleeves and slowly walked towards Cat, stopping behind her. "They don't understand...mm, what you're feeling." He put his hands on her shoulders, she tried to shrug him off; he wouldn't let her, though. He was going to have to keep prodding her. "Mm, they don't...know. How it feels, to ache with. The need for vengeance. They can't...comprehend. Mm, how it feels to know. The person, mm. Responsible for taking a ray. Of light from...your life is. Mm, walking around." Cat was trembling beneath his hands, and he could see her jaw flexing. He leaned close to her ear and said in a deep, slow tone. "It was...me, Cat. Mm, I broke the door in, and mm, went through your...father's things. I, mm...didn't care who he was. Or who might, mm. Suffer for my actions." Cat inhaled sharply, clenched her hands into fists. "I, mm. Was the one. Who shot him..."
Cat spun around and shoved at him, giving voice to a strangled scream of hurt and anger. Richard kept goading her, forcing her rage out and onto him. She responded, shoving and slapping at him.
"He was...sound asleep, mm. When I shoved the. Bedroom door open," Richard said. Cat punched at him, connecting with his shoulder. He backed away, Cat following him step for step as she kept hitting him. "He died, mm. So I could steal...some cheap silverware and, mm...a few dollars." That was all he could get out of a while, because Cat took after him with fury, slapping and punching where ever she could connect. His shoulders, his arms, his face, she didn't care. She didn't even really see him through the red haze of her anger. She just heard the words and reacted. In the back of her mind, she realized that Richard was goading her, but she was too far gone in her anger to care. She needed to lash out, and here was a target, and he was telling her what he had done, how he had done it, how he hadn't cared at all that he would be causing pain.
"WHY?" she cried, beating his chest with her fists. Richard found himself being backed towards the opposite wall. "WHY? WHY DID YOU DO IT?" The tears she hadn't been able to shed began to spill as Richard pressed against the wall. "WHY?" Cat repeated. "Why?" And that's when the sobs began, thickening her voice and giving truth to all the pain she'd been feeling "Why?"
She pressed her face against him as the sobs took over. Richard wrapped his arms around her, all he could do now was offer what strength and comfort he could. Her tears were hot as they soaked through his shirt. Between her anguished sobs, she kept asking the one question Richard couldn't answer: WHY. He kept his arms around her, held her close to him as she wept, and when her knees gave out, he slid down the wall with her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her face against his chest, weeping with her although he shed no tears. He hurt for her. Her anguish was his, and neither of them could understand why her father had been killed. Richard did understand that innocents died in war, but this was not really war, no matter what Nucky thought. *Well, it wasn't war before* Richard thought as he held Cat. *It is now. I am going to help Cat save this neighborhood. Nucky will pay for this.*
Cat kept crying, her grief finally freed from behind the wall of anger. Something about Richard's arms around her made her feel safe enough to let everything out. When she collapsed and he went with her and pulled her against him, she was able to really let it loose. It hurt, and she was still angry at whoever had killed her father, but the release was needed and by the time her sobs eased into deep, shuddery hiccoughs, she felt more like herself. Not necessarily better, but at least she felt like she could think and function and even get on with her life. she took comfort from Richard being there, and she couldn't help but be grateful to him for letting her take out her anger on him. He did for her what she had done for others. Because it had crossed Cat's mind to start dragging in anyone from the neighborhood who had been known to break in and rob from people. It might have taken her a long time to find the right person, and there was no telling how many people she would have beaten to get a confession. She knew it would have been the wrong course of action; she knew it wouldn't bring her father back, but it had been tempting, and Richard had saved a lot of people undeserved pain.
"Thank you," she finally managed to choke out, her voice raw and thick. She tried to sniffle her nose clear; Richard pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. He continued to hold her as she wiped her face, his arms loose enough that she could move away if she wanted. She didn't. She stayed, with her head resting on his shoulder, feeling vulnerable but protected.
"How, mm. Do you...feel?"
"Better, I think."
"You think?"
"I...I still hurt. Inside, I mean. But I feel empty, too."
"Hungry?" Cat thought and shook her head after a moment. "When, mm. Was the...last time. You ate?"
"Yesterday? Maybe the day before?"
"If you. Can't remember. Mm, you haven't. Eaten enough." Cat only shrugged. She wasn't sure what day it was, or when the last time was she did anything, to be completely honest. She only knew that she was suddenly very tired.
"I really believed you did it, for a minute," Cat told Richard. He didn't know if she was even aware she was doing it, but Cat was nestling herself more comfortably against him. "You gave details like you..." she paused and let out a wide yawn. "...like you had been there."
"What, mm. Did I say...that made you, mm. Think it wasn't. Me?"
"The thing about..." yawn "...his eyes. Dad's eyes were dark blue. Not at..."yawn "Not at all like mine."
Richard recalled saying something about 'frost blue eyes opened wide in terror as the first bullet struck', but the truth was, Richard wasn't sure if Cat's father had even had a chance to open his eyes. If he had, Richard certainly hadn't taken note of the color of them. He had to push aside the sharp stab of guilt that tore through him. Bad enough that he had done the deed; even worse that Cat believed him innocent. He knew he should tell her the truth, but he couldn't. He was too afraid to. And he could not see any good coming from it, at least not now. Maybe later, maybe years from now. Maybe never.
"Can you..."yawn "talk to me...for a few minutes?" She was falling asleep, Richard could tell it from the sound of her voice and the gentle relaxing of her body.
"Mm, about what?"
"Anything," she murmured, and so Richard began talking about his life growing up, although he didn't get four sentences out before Cat fell completely asleep. Richard trailed off when he realized she was out. His back began to hurt after a while, his backside went numb, his arm was cramping up from the awkward angle it was at combined with Cat's weight on it, but he held as still as he could, not wanting to risk disturbing her. It wasn't any worse than any time he had to sit stock still in Europe, it was actually much better than them all. He was dry, he was warm, he wasn't alone, and there was no one twenty feet away wanting to kill him. He watched Cat as she slept, listened to her even breaths, felt the ache of the bruises she had caused begin to form; took them for a small penance for his sins, and silently begged her forgiveness for what he had done.
When Cat slowly woke up, she was unsure at first how she came to be sitting on Richard's lap with him sitting on the floor. But the way her head and chest ached from her sobbing quickly brought events back to her. She took a deep breath and slowly sat up, stiff from the odd position she'd been in. Then she reached up and straightened her glasses, looking at Richard as she did so.
"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I am so sorry."
"You...hit hard." She had smacked him twice on his right cheek, which had turned a bright shade of scarlet while she'd been sleeping. There were also two bruises going to purple on his face; one just below the outer corner of his right eye, and a larger, darker one low on the left side of his jaw. "You throw. A, mm...mean right hook," he said as he rubbed his jaw. He was aware of a couple other tender spots, mostly on his shoulders and chest, but also a doozy on his ribs.
"Dad taught me to punch," she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of crying again. "He said..he said I needed to know how to defend myself." She took a deep breath to force back the threatening tears. Richard changed the subject.
"Mm, you need to. Take a bath, then...eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"You will, mm. Still eat...something."
Cat didn't have the energy to argue. She slowly made her way to her feet and shuffled down the length of the attic, opening the door to what Richard had assumed was a closet, but turned out to be a bathroom. She turned on the light and started the water, stripping down while the water warmed up, then turned the shower on and stepped under the spray. She simply stood there for a while, letting the water run over her face, mixing with the tears that once again streamed from her eyes. It seemed that now that the dam had been broken open, the flood would end only when it was ready. When she finally thought they were done, she scrubbed herself until her skin was red and her hair hurt.
When she stepped back into the room, Richard was just coming in from the steps with a tray of food in his hand.
"The woman in, mm. Your kitchen just...informed me. Mm, I'm not fat enough," Richard said, slightly annoyed. Something about his statement, possibly the tone he said it in, or the look on his face when he said it, made Cat give a quick snort of laughter. He sighed and shook his head, setting the tray down on the bed.
"Eat," he told Cat, pointing at the tray. She walked over and sat down, noting that there were two sandwiches and two bowls of soup.
"I'll eat if you eat," she said, looking at Richard.
"I, mm. Would rather not...eat. In front of. You, mm."
Cat raised one eyebrow at him and pointedly crossed her arms over her chest.
"I can't...eat with. Mm, my mask on," Richard explained. Cat continued to look at him. "It's, mm. Awkward how. I have to...eat, and. Mm, you can see. Me chewing, mm. And crumbs get everywhere..." And Cat's expression changed not at all. Richard sighed and took his mask back off, setting it carefully down on the bed before grabbing one of the sandwiches. Cat took the other and looked at Richard, who gave her a baleful, uncomfortable look. She gave a small nod and turned her back, giving him a bit of privacy so he could eat. Richard ate slowly, trying hard to not make a mess, grateful that Cat wasn't able to see the awkward way he had to put food into his mouth, or the disgusting sight of him actually chewing. He had watched himself eating in a mirror, once. It had greatly depressed him, to the point that he hadn't eaten for a week afterward. Two nurses had pinned him down while a third shoved stew down his throat, and the absolute embarrassment of the situation had gotten him back to eating, although he would not do it where people could see him; not even Jimmy had ever seen him eat. But if his eating something would get Cat to eat, so be it. He was hungry, anyway, and the sandwich was good. He wasn't going to try the soup, however. Liquids were tricky; he really didn't want to dribble tomato soup out the side of his mouth. But Cat was so hungry that she ate her entire sandwich, her bowl of soup, and most of Richard's before she was full. Richard wiped crumbs from his mouth as Cat finished eating, then he took the tray and set it just outside her door, as he'd been instructed. He looked Cat over, noting that her color had come up somewhat, and she looked slightly better, although she still looked tired and pale.
"You need, mm, more sleep," Richard said gently. Cat yawned at that moment, supporting his argument.
"Will you stay? Please?" Cat looked at him uncertainly. "I know it's a lot to ask, and...you've already done so much for me tonight...but I...I don't want to be alone...and...and..." She trailed off, looking down at her hands, which she was wringing nervously.
"I, mm. Promise not to...push you off. The bed," he said as lightly as he could as he came back to the bed and sat down beside Cat. He gently took one of her hands in his, softly tracing the lines on her palm with his long fingers. "You know... mm, I think. I...understand you. A little more. Mm, what you do...why you, mm do it. The...taking someone's pain. For them. Mm, I'm sorry...for judging you." Cat brought her eyes to meet his, the look in her eyes was a deep gratitude mixed with something he couldn't name, but he knew he had said the right thing.
"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "You're the first person who's ever said that."
"Mm, that they...understood you?"
"That they were sorry for judging me."