[ 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)
[ there's some hesitation in the suggestion, her lips pressing together. this, she's genuinely unsure about — would it even work? would it make a difference at all?
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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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[ there's some hesitation in the suggestion, her lips pressing together. this, she's genuinely unsure about — would it even work? would it make a difference at all?
would he want it? ]
To help with that. Maybe.
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[ was she going to knock him out? no, he knows she's not but it's a thought that runs through his head and makes him laugh anyway. ]
What is? I mean, what would you try?
[ he's open to it, at least. ]
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[ she's not going to knock him out. although she could. ]
No idea if telling you that you're calm and relaxed just before you go to sleep would help, but it might.
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