middlefinger | IC Inbox for Penance

(there is something wrong with her though. there feels like it. klaus' words had echoed doc's on the porch so vividly. i don't love you because you're broken, but i think you love me because i am, and that does matter. the stark realization that she didn't even know how to love herself, and how can she properly love other people without that?

she wishes she knew how to give the people she loved what they needed. that it didn't always feel like too little too late. the problem is when people tell you that you're terrible your entire life you begin believing it.

she honestly doesn't know what to say in response, so she says this instead, trying to blink away the tears threatening her eyes:)

He loved you too, you know. He would want us to take care of each other, I think. (a pause and then:) It'd be easier if I knew he was going home to his daughter. Or something. And not just...nothing. I'm so tired of people dying.

⟨ He... yeah, he knew that... feeling. Being broken. Looking for someone else's pieces to try and fill your own. Jason would never admit it, but he just had to... he just had to say what he said. And she doesn't need to have a reply. Maybe she will one day, maybe she never will, and that's okay.

Jason slipped the bottle back into his grasp for another pull before setting it back down between them and just listened. There's really... nothing to say to this kind of grief. He reaches out to ask permission. If he can hold her hand, or come closer, or something, anything. ⟩ It sucks, man. I just

⟨ The more she says it the more it sinks in. Jason has always believed that people who came here really did die, even when Grayson told him he didn't. Maybe it was just easier to comprehend this way than wonder why. Even with that in mind, processing the idea that someone they cared for was gone in a way more permanent than even this place was... hard. ⟩

Thought Hell would be fire and torment. You know, non-stop burning sands and other divine comedy bullshit. I think this is worse, isn't it? How do you... keep enduring this much loss without losing yourself in the process.

(she pats the spot next to her on the bed again, as if to indicate it is okay to come closer. and if he chooses to sit down she'll wrap her arm around his shoulder. maybe this all they can do, weather this together. not be alone. the grief is something they'll have to ride out, but they don't have to do it alone.)

You don't. (it's the harsh truth, but she knows jason wouldn't want her to lie to him.)

Each death was like another weight around my neck -- it made me more and more determined to keep what I do have, to try to make sure no one ever takes away what matters to me again. I'm not who I was before all that. I never could be again. You have to find a way to put yourself back together, make peace with who you are now. Assuming that's even possible.

⟨ He does, he easily does. Jason gladly fills that spot and leans against her. This wouldn't be the case many months ago but he'd found a profound trust in Wynonna, in all of these people, in his family. This may well indeed be all they can do, and maybe it was good enough. Jay chose to stay quiet; to listen. A hand idly picked at hers, running down slender fingers, just to maintain some kind of grounding. Then, after letting his eyes drift and wander in thought as the heaviness of her words sunk in, he spoke. ⟩

Yeah, yeah.⟨ His head hung. ⟩ Death changes people, informs who they become. Time can't rewind. There's so many people I think of, too. Why? Why? And I'm scared, Wynonna. That maybe I'm getting hardened to it. What if one day I can watch the lights go out and walk away; and feel nothing?

⟨ He pauses again, letting out a shuttered breath. Part of him remembered just how... nonchalant he was when he'd seen Homelander all mangled up. And he cared about Homelander. He cared about Klaus; about Wynonna. He felt it, but he felt things... changing, too. ⟩ We should have a dinner for him. I--I can cook, I can actually cook, I mean. ⟨ Jason laughed. ⟩ I'll make something I know he'd love. Set the table for him, pour him a whiskey or wine. Remember him, you know? ⟨ Eyes shifted toward her. ⟩ I think he'd like that. Like to know we're all still in it together.

(she's glad that he trusts her, that she can still invoke that kind of trust and love out of people. she's not so far gone yet, maybe. even if she has had that moment where she shot someone in the back and she felt nothing. it was the only thing to do, at the time.

she can't promise that day won't come for jason, though she hopes it won't.)

I think the fact that you're so scared means there's a good chance that won't happen. But if it does...sometimes we become who we have to to survive.

(it's not pretty, but the truth rarely is.)

I can make the drinks. No one wants me involved in the cooking. But that would be nice. Remembering him.

⟨ Maybe that day will come, one day. When he's lost too much of himself to this fucking place. He wouldn't hold it against her like he didn't hold her choice against her and sure, Jason wasn't there. Still. Sometimes you need to spill blood. And that's just how it fucking is. ⟩

You feel that? ⟨ Eyes looked over to her, voice quiet. ⟩ Ever felt that, I mean... like you're slipping? And maybe holding on to this hurt helps us remember we're still human. We lost someone we loved.

⟨ No. It's not pretty. Jason inhaled. ⟩ You're good at those. ⟨ Came with a laugh. ⟩ Fucking barely remember the Christmas party, holy shit.

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