it was a dream but when marcos had woken up, he'd felt gutted, raw and vulnerable. he hadn't come out of his room immediately, choosing instead to pretend like he was asleep, like he was exhausted and not up to conversation.
but that's falling back into habits of avoidance and he'd been trying to stop that since coming out of the fantasy that was zerzura. so, he finally pulls himself out of bed sometime around midday.
he expects she'll be at work so it gives him some time to clean himself up, shower, trim his beard, put on clean clothes, eat something, focus. it's not easy. he can feel the heavy weight of that dream on his shoulders but he's trying to put it aside, put it back in its box so he can keep going. ]
[ bobbi doesn't usually remember her dreams — but she remembers this one, lorna taking dawn away from marcos, his break-down, the sense of loss he felt.
she remembers and she's been in new amsterdam long enough to know that sometimes, dreams aren't just dreams. sometimes, they have real life consequences. sometimes, they change the world. sometimes, they're shared between several people.
sometimes, they're memories. (that's a new one, but it isn't entirely surprising to her.)
marcos isn't awake yet by the time she has to go to work and she figures he deserves a lie in after last night. emotional exhaustion is real. she just hopes he's actually resting, that he isn't caught in another nightmare.
at work, she tries (and mostly manages) to put it aside, not to think about marcos. there's a lot to think about, between the memories of being married to him, of having a family with him, the way zerzura had taken the way she cared about a friend she'd kissed under the mistletoe once and turned it into something more, something deeper and more encompassing and altogether stronger.
when she comes home, she half expects marcos to avoid her again, but he's there in the living room when she comes in. bobbi sets her stuff aside, greeting him with a hey that's more casual than she feels.
she comes to sit next to him on the couch, not as close as she had in the dream. ]
That dream I had last night - [ she starts, watching him. ] That happened, didn't it? It wasn't just a dream.
[ it's hard to not just leave the apartment and find some place to have a drink and brood. it takes a lot of effort to stay where he is but he does. he sits on the couch, relaxes a bit and that's where she is when she arrives home.
she greets him quietly and he responds, nodding, wondering if that'll be it. if it'll be mutual, unspoken avoidance but no. she sits down and looks at him and then goes right to it. he sighs and closes his eyes for a second, rubbing at his brow with a forearm. ]
That really happened.
[ it had happened and it still ate him, made him wonder if he'd been the one to do something wrong, to cause lorna to leave, to take his kid. ]
It was a dream but it wasn't. You, obviously, weren't there when it first happened but it happened.
[ he purses his lips and nods. ] I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get caught in whatever was going on in my head.
[ he exhales a laugh, humorless and dry before pushing his fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit. he could agree, he knows. maybe it wasn't his fault. but, agreeing would feel like a lie because he does think it's his fault. ]
You can't really say that. I had the dream and you were obviously close enough to get dragged into it.
[ he wasn't here the first time the dreams came around but he'd heard about them. guess it was only a matter of time. ]
If I hadn't been here, you probably wouldn't have seen all that.
If you hadn't been here, I probably wouldn't have seen any of that. But I probably would've seen something else, someone else's dream, or someone would've seen mine.
[ she shrugs a little. ]
This place or something about what's in our chests — it does that, sometimes.
[ so, she'd gotten to see one of the worst times of his life. that wasn't the real issue. he trusts her, doesn't mind her knowing but having it seen like it was a movie on a projection screen was a little discomfiting. ]
Maybe I just won't sleep anymore. [ that was an empty threat. ] I'm still sorry you had to see it like that. Or see me like that.
It's not that I didn't want you to see it, it's how you saw it.
[ he hates reliving it and he hates that she'd been there to see him completely meltdown like he had. he sighs and sits back, slouching down on the sofa to be a little more comfortable. ]
Only one other person knows I have a kid here. [ he shrugs. ] I trust you with it.
Well. [ she presses her lips together, briefly. ] I'm sorry for the invasion of your privacy. Even if I couldn't help it.
[ i trust you with it earns a flash of a smile, something warm. she doesn't tell him that she won't betray that trust because she thinks he already knows that she won't (and she won't, unless it has to become a weapon for the greater good and then, she'd hate doing it).
[ he certainly doesn't blame her for it. it had been his dream that she'd been pulled into and it had been his nightmare that she'd had to witness. and from what he knows of her, she'd have wanted to take action, do something but she'd held back because nothing could change what happened. ]
Guess it's just my luck you couldn't see one of the better dreams that I sometimes have.
[ sometimes. maybe once a month he had a good dream. maybe twice. ]
[ for a moment, the instinct is there to make some flirtatious joke, to ask him what sort of dream the good ones are, to touch him while she asks — but that isn't what they do, that isn't who they are.
not here. not anymore. ]
You couldn't help it any more than I could.
[ either they're both to blame, or neither one of them is. ]
[ he rubs a hand across his face and then back through his hair before sighing. ]
My dream, my fault. [ something about his dream and that particular dream had made it so she got pulled in with him. ] I ended up here pretty soon after that happened. Probably for the best because I was not — doing good there. After that.
[ he thinks about it for a second before he shakes his head. ]
There's a lot of good things here. A lot of good people. But I hate the question marks. The act of not knowing where she is and if she's okay and if she'll even remember me is a killer. It's awful.
[ and there's nothing he can do to change it either. ]
[ sometimes, one has to be cruel to be kind. sometimes, it's just cruelty. bobbi would like to think that she knows where the boundaries lie, but she isn't so sure right now. ]
There's no guarantee you'd know any of the answers or be able to find out if you were home.
[ it hurts to hear it so bluntly said. it hurts but he knows it's true. that doesn't make it any easier to hear, though. he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees and slides his hands through his hair. ]
Yeah. I know.
[ there's a possibility that he'll never see his daughter again and he knows it. but he hasn't made peace with it. ]
I'm trying not to think of that, though. I don't know if I can deal with it.
[ he's pretty sure he's going to end up dying at least once before his time here is up (if it's ever up). it's a cold comfort to know it won't be permanent. ]
And if we don't, here's hoping this place doesn't become too unbearable.
[ he pauses and snickers. ] Feels like I should be lifting a glass of something alcoholic when I say that.
[ both of those things. it is optimistic — but some of it is also in their hands. not what this place throws at them, but how they react to it. whether they focus on the good or the bad. whether they create more good or more bad. ]
[ he snickers quietly and then looks down at his hands, wringing them together a bit because — he doesn't know why. this still isn't all that easy but he's trying. he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. ]
I would love to just...close my eyes and not dream about anything for once in my life. It's always something. You just happened to see that one.
[ sometimes it was the plane. sometimes it was gus dying. sometimes it was nearly dying himself so many times. lorna leaving, july fifteenth, and so many other greatest hits. ]
Edited (that was not the icon i selected) 2019-09-22 12:22 (UTC)
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➤ action ( dream share aftermath )
it was a dream but when marcos had woken up, he'd felt gutted, raw and vulnerable. he hadn't come out of his room immediately, choosing instead to pretend like he was asleep, like he was exhausted and not up to conversation.
but that's falling back into habits of avoidance and he'd been trying to stop that since coming out of the fantasy that was zerzura. so, he finally pulls himself out of bed sometime around midday.
he expects she'll be at work so it gives him some time to clean himself up, shower, trim his beard, put on clean clothes, eat something, focus. it's not easy. he can feel the heavy weight of that dream on his shoulders but he's trying to put it aside, put it back in its box so he can keep going. ]
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she remembers and she's been in new amsterdam long enough to know that sometimes, dreams aren't just dreams. sometimes, they have real life consequences. sometimes, they change the world. sometimes, they're shared between several people.
sometimes, they're memories. (that's a new one, but it isn't entirely surprising to her.)
marcos isn't awake yet by the time she has to go to work and she figures he deserves a lie in after last night. emotional exhaustion is real. she just hopes he's actually resting, that he isn't caught in another nightmare.
at work, she tries (and mostly manages) to put it aside, not to think about marcos. there's a lot to think about, between the memories of being married to him, of having a family with him, the way zerzura had taken the way she cared about a friend she'd kissed under the mistletoe once and turned it into something more, something deeper and more encompassing and altogether stronger.
when she comes home, she half expects marcos to avoid her again, but he's there in the living room when she comes in. bobbi sets her stuff aside, greeting him with a hey that's more casual than she feels.
she comes to sit next to him on the couch, not as close as she had in the dream. ]
That dream I had last night - [ she starts, watching him. ] That happened, didn't it? It wasn't just a dream.
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she greets him quietly and he responds, nodding, wondering if that'll be it. if it'll be mutual, unspoken avoidance but no. she sits down and looks at him and then goes right to it. he sighs and closes his eyes for a second, rubbing at his brow with a forearm. ]
That really happened.
[ it had happened and it still ate him, made him wonder if he'd been the one to do something wrong, to cause lorna to leave, to take his kid. ]
It was a dream but it wasn't. You, obviously, weren't there when it first happened but it happened.
[ he purses his lips and nods. ] I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get caught in whatever was going on in my head.
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[ she nods, leaning back a little and curling one leg underneath her body, half-turning toward him. ]
It's not your fault. [ that she got caught in it. that lorna took dawn away. either. both. ]
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You can't really say that. I had the dream and you were obviously close enough to get dragged into it.
[ he wasn't here the first time the dreams came around but he'd heard about them. guess it was only a matter of time. ]
If I hadn't been here, you probably wouldn't have seen all that.
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[ she shrugs a little. ]
This place or something about what's in our chests — it does that, sometimes.
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[ so, she'd gotten to see one of the worst times of his life. that wasn't the real issue. he trusts her, doesn't mind her knowing but having it seen like it was a movie on a projection screen was a little discomfiting. ]
Maybe I just won't sleep anymore. [ that was an empty threat. ] I'm still sorry you had to see it like that. Or see me like that.
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[ he might not believe that, but she means it. ]
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[ he hates reliving it and he hates that she'd been there to see him completely meltdown like he had. he sighs and sits back, slouching down on the sofa to be a little more comfortable. ]
Only one other person knows I have a kid here. [ he shrugs. ] I trust you with it.
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Well. [ she presses her lips together, briefly. ] I'm sorry for the invasion of your privacy. Even if I couldn't help it.
[ i trust you with it earns a flash of a smile, something warm. she doesn't tell him that she won't betray that trust because she thinks he already knows that she won't (and she won't, unless it has to become a weapon for the greater good and then, she'd hate doing it).
it means a lot, his trust. especially now. ]
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[ he certainly doesn't blame her for it. it had been his dream that she'd been pulled into and it had been his nightmare that she'd had to witness. and from what he knows of her, she'd have wanted to take action, do something but she'd held back because nothing could change what happened. ]
Guess it's just my luck you couldn't see one of the better dreams that I sometimes have.
[ sometimes. maybe once a month he had a good dream. maybe twice. ]
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not here. not anymore. ]
You couldn't help it any more than I could.
[ either they're both to blame, or neither one of them is. ]
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[ he rubs a hand across his face and then back through his hair before sighing. ]
My dream, my fault. [ something about his dream and that particular dream had made it so she got pulled in with him. ] I ended up here pretty soon after that happened. Probably for the best because I was not — doing good there. After that.
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[ bobbi shakes her head. he isn't. he wouldn't blame her if their positions were reversed. ]
Is it easier, being here? [ the distance, maybe? ]
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[ he thinks about it for a second before he shakes his head. ]
There's a lot of good things here. A lot of good people. But I hate the question marks. The act of not knowing where she is and if she's okay and if she'll even remember me is a killer. It's awful.
[ and there's nothing he can do to change it either. ]
I hate that I don't know.
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[ sometimes, one has to be cruel to be kind. sometimes, it's just cruelty. bobbi would like to think that she knows where the boundaries lie, but she isn't so sure right now. ]
There's no guarantee you'd know any of the answers or be able to find out if you were home.
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Yeah. I know.
[ there's a possibility that he'll never see his daughter again and he knows it. but he hasn't made peace with it. ]
I'm trying not to think of that, though. I don't know if I can deal with it.
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[ for saying it. for the entire situation. for not being able to help.
she wants to reach out and touch him, comfort him, help. she doesn't think she can, not really. she's not sure the touch would be welcome, either.
not given what she knows now. ]
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[ to accept that he wouldn't see her. ]
It's not like I haven't thought about it. I have. I've thought about it a lot but I just keep...hoping things will be better. And I'll get a chance.
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[ even if it means he'll leave again. even if she'll miss him so much more this time around than she had the last time he'd left. ]
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[ just because he wants to be better than his own father. just because he wants to know her at least a little. ]
But, if it doesn't happen, I'll learn to live with it. This place...isn't that bad when it's not trying to kill me.
[ that part had been pretty bad. ]
I hope you get to go back too, you know.
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[ right now, the thought of leaving feels like relief and leaves a bitter taste at the back of her throat all at once.
she wants to go home — but what will she have to leave behind? she's already lost a life of memories, a family, what-could-have-beens. ]
Here's hoping we make it somehow. All of us, safely.
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[ he's pretty sure he's going to end up dying at least once before his time here is up (if it's ever up). it's a cold comfort to know it won't be permanent. ]
And if we don't, here's hoping this place doesn't become too unbearable.
[ he pauses and snickers. ] Feels like I should be lifting a glass of something alcoholic when I say that.
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[ both of those things. it is optimistic — but some of it is also in their hands. not what this place throws at them, but how they react to it. whether they focus on the good or the bad. whether they create more good or more bad. ]
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I would love to just...close my eyes and not dream about anything for once in my life. It's always something. You just happened to see that one.
[ sometimes it was the plane. sometimes it was gus dying. sometimes it was nearly dying himself so many times. lorna leaving, july fifteenth, and so many other greatest hits. ]
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