evite | ✈ open post 2kforever

It's not about what I want. Do you hear what you're saying?

[ he shakes his head, rubbing at his face with the hand that's not gripping her ankles like his life depends on it. ]

Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. [ that she's basically telling him that she's disposal. that she's willing to let her life end because she thinks she's somehow more important. he doesn't understand how she can think that when she's...when she's her.

when she's so important to so many people. his having a kid should not put him on a pedestal. ]

I'm asking you to. [ it won't work. he knows that. ]

I can't.

[ her voice breaks, gaze falling into her lap; the anger and righteous indignation flows out like the tide, leaving her floundering in its absence, uncertain where to go or what to say.

so she doesn't say anything. she sits in silence for a moment, fighting back the moisture that threatens to well up in her eyes, hating that weakness more every second. eventually, though, she sniffs, a hand lifting to drag under her eyes. ]

If not for you, I'd do it for her. For all those kids in mutant foster homes who will never know their parents, because Sentinel Services or the Purifiers or whoever thought they were dangerous. I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant Dawn got to grow up with a dad who loves her.

[ because she didn't. because she didn't, and she didn't get a choice, and nobody ever cared enough to be that for her either. ]

Nothing I do could ever be more important than that.

[ though he hears the way her voice cracks, he doesn't try and comfort her because he's still — he can't believe that he's listening to her say this about herself. it's ridiculous and untrue and he hates how it makes him feel. he hates that he's going to expect her to dive in front of him or push him out of the way or something just so she can take a blow meant for him. ]

Don't move. I'm going to get you something to eat.

[ he doesn't give her a chance to answer before he's moving her legs and getting up. he has to get away from this conversation for a few moments or he's going to scream at her and that's not going to help her injuries.

so, he's going to walk away, leave her with zingo and disappear into the kitchen to try and scrounge for food that would be easy on her stomach. ]

[ she doesn't want anything to eat, but it's pointless to try and argue with him when he's already storming off, pulling a classic 'man with complicated emotions' punch card and closing off before they can actually have a conversation. refusing to see the reality of the situation because it makes him vulnerable or needy.

the loss of his weight on the couch tips the scales, leaving her feeling off-balance yet again, and daisy has to adjust; she pulls herself completely upright, legs curled under her hips as she leans against the side of the couch, one elbow propped on the armrest keeping her head up, her eye covered by her palm.

zingo, bless her unnaturally patient soul, simply waits for her to settle before curling up next to daisy's legs, her back pressed snuggly into the crook of her knees. daisy's other hand moves, too, absentmindedly playing with the fur at the nape of her neck.

she doesn't want food, but she doesn't ignore marcos outright when he comes back in, even if he ignored her in favor of leaving the room. being the bigger (more tired) person, even if it kills her. ]

Have you eaten?

[ if she had to guess? no. ]

[ he passes her a half sleeve of some saltine crackers before he sits back down in the chair he'd been sitting in when she'd first woken up. he sighs, exhaustion easing its way into his body. he stretches his legs out in front of him and stares down at his lap. ]

I had something when we got back.

[ he had some water. so, technically he's not lying. ]

Eat. Get your strength back.

I'm not hungry. [ she is, but she knows he probably is too, and he just doesn't want to admit it. so she leans forward to toss half the sleeve back at him, keeping half for herself. as it to appease him, she puts just one in her mouth and chews. ] Share with me.

[ they need to go on a supply run. they gave up everything they had when the morlocks got pushed out of the sewers, even though what they had was barely anything at all. but she knows marcos won't let her get up, not until caitlin comes back to give her a once-over, even if she swears she's fine.

she's probably not fine, but she wants to be. she wants to be useful. ]

Where is everybody?

[ it's unusual for the apartment to be so empty this early in the day. she'd expect to at least have seen john staring at the computer, scouring news articles for information, but he's nowhere to be seen.

a thought hits her, and she realizes she hasn't seen anyone since before they split up. before they went to the inner circle. before she got hurt. her stomach twists. ]

Where's John, Marcos?

I don't know exactly.

[ propping up his elbow on the armrest, he leans his cheek against his hand and shakes his head. ]

Clarice came back. Came out of a portal and said we needed to come with her. John and Lorna both went. I stayed back with you. She's alive but I don't have any details.

[ he figures john'll get the information while he's with her and relay it to him later. ]

Andy and Lauren are with their mom. I don't know exactly what Esme's doing. [ but that's why they were alone. ]

Wait. [ that's news. ] Clarice came — she's back?

[ they'd assumed she was gone. they'd assumed that if whatever gunshot wound she'd suffered when jace had shot her didn't kill her, getting sucked into an errant portal and disappearing involuntarily would have. they'd mourned her, bore the loss of her, cried. it buoys something in daisy's chest to think that's not true. that she's alive.

something else lifts, too, at the thought that marcos chose to stay behind with her. he didn't have to do that. she tries not to think about it, though.

he mentions esme, though, and daisy's eyes narrow. talk about emotional whiplash. ]

Why would you care what Esme's doing?

She's back.

[ he nods once, blinking at her slowly. ] I don't know how. I didn't get a chance to ask her before she took John and Lorna through a portal. I assume they'll be back in awhile depending on what she's showing them.

[ he's remarkably calm for having watched his best friend and his — Lorna disappear through a portal to parts unknown. maybe he just trusts clarice to get them back. ]

Esme came back. Found us and she's been helping out here and there. [ yeah, he knows. it's amazing to put those words in the same sentence. ] Lorna vouches for her.

[ daisy's favorite. ]

[ well. clarice coming back is a spot of good news that daisy didn't expect, but it's quickly swept away by the too-calm explanation marcos gives to justify esme's supposed presence in the underground. esme. the girl that brainwashed lorna into leaving them in the first place, who manipulated and tricked them all, who (along with her sisters) mindcontrolled lauren and andy into using their powers together and risked killing them or worse in the process. that esme? ]

Lorna vouches for her. [ there is absolutely no mistaking the deadpan tone for what it is — carefully controlled disapproval, hurt, anger. after all that lorna did, after all that her disappearance nearly destroyed marcos, for her to just waltz back in like everything was fine and then drag mindgame barbie along for the ride?

daisy can't accept it. won't. she doesn't understand how he can, either. ]

Wow. [ whatever appetite she had before is lost. ] You and Lorna, too, then?

[ she doesn't know why the words come out. why she wants to twist that knife in her own gut so much. ]

[ tread carefully, daisy. ]

Me and Lorna what?

[ if he was calm before, he's not anymore. he sits up, not sure he likes the accusation that he thinks is edging her words. ]

What are you implying?

[ out with it. ]

[ she doesn't answer. at least not right away. her mouth presses tightly together, a thin line that holds back all the words she's not ready to say; she shakes her head, just slightly. as if sensing the tension, zingo climbs down, wandering off, presumably to go lay in bed and wait for john to come home.

alone, daisy shivers, free hand wrapping around her upper arm. ]

Forget it. [ she should have kept her mouth shut. ] I'm happy for you.

You don't know what you're talking about.

[ he shakes his head and scoffs, disbelief settling over his expression. first the whole thing with him being on a pedestal in her eyes and now this. ]

We're not together if that's what you're thinking. [ they would always have something that connected them in their kid but he wasn't going to cross that line again. ]

But it's nice to know that you think I would. [ no no, it wasn't nice at all. ] Thanks.

That's not — [ but the way his expression changes, the way his jaw hardens, something flashing in his eyes... daisy stops short, exhaling, guilt twisting something sharp in her stomach. ] I just want you to be happy, Marcos.

[ she has her own problems with lorna after what she'd done, problems that could likely fill a novel's worth of angry, hurt, bitter speeches. but those were her problems, her own opinion, and if being with lorna again for whatever reason (happiness, the good of their kid, common comfort, delusion?) was what made marcos happy, she sure as hell wasn't anyone to stop him. what right did she have to try and dictate his decision on that?

the silence that follows is uncomfortable. heavy, painful; it makes her want to walk away the same way he had before, only she doesn't have anywhere to go. ]

It doesn't matter what I think, anyway.

We're not together.

[ this is getting tiring and more than that, it was getting frustrating. he doesn't know why she's doing this, making everything about his safety, his comfort, his happiness with little to no regard for herself. it can't be a death wish because no one's trying to kill her but he doesn't know why she's doing this to either of them. ]

Would you stop acting like this? Acting like you're nothing. Stop it.

[ the words come out sharp, cutting and he glares at her because he needs her to stop this. he doesn't want to hear defeat and fatalism in her voice anymore. no, she's more than that, she's better than that. and he's done listening to her think of herself this way. ]

I know we're not! [ wait, what? hard brake, backpedal, that's not what she meant. ] I — [ ugh. ] Never mind.

[ what's wrong with her brain? maybe she does have a concussion. maybe her impulse control is totally fucked from getting slammed into a car and then into the floor. maybe she's having delusions and not actually speaking. that would honestly be preferable. maybe this is all just a hallucination and she's not even conscious yet. that wouldn't be great for her, health-wise, but maybe it'd be better.

it's not exactly enjoyable to argue with him. she hates it, actually. arguing like this, it's exhausting and miserable and makes her feel like the world is spinning around her, topsy-turvy. though ... on second thought. maybe that's the concussion. ]

I think I need to lie back down.

[ really convenient segue into NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS. ]

[ that...that wasn't just a slip of the tongue. that wasn't just a simple mistake that anyone could make. no, there was absolutely more to her words than she wants him to believe and he's torn. torn between wanting her to elaborate on why she'd said that and so vehemently and letting her rest.

he was already going to be in trouble with caitlin for riling her up like this. ]

Never mind? Are you sure?

[ it's the...smallest opening he thinks he can give her without pressing. if she wants to talk, she can talk but he guesses she's going to try and say it was accidental and play that she's suddenly much more injured than she was ten minutes ago. ]

[ is she sure? no, she's not. she's entirely unsure. between the urge to continue backpedaling her way into laying face-first on the couch and pretending to pass out and spilling her guts revived coma patient-style, daisy doesn't know what to do.

he hadn't made a face, hadn't laughed, hadn't really reacted at all. he'd just stared at her, as if trying to channel the frosts and read her mind, and given her the softest opening known to man in a voice that sounded almost as unsure as she felt. not the voice of a man ready to casually dismiss the statement. ]

I … [ the answers feel heavy in her mouth, and daisy starts and stops a few times saying nothing at all, a deer in headlights look even without marcos' light flooding the room. ] I don't know.

[ this is such a bad idea. this is such a bad idea. she's repressed these feelings for so long that the sheer concept of letting them out feels like breaking the hoover dam.

it's easier to huff out a laugh at herself, self-deprecating and so soft, and bury her face in her hands. ]

I don't know what I'm sure about.

Okay.

[ this is uncharted territory. a slip of the tongue that he wants to latch onto and make into something bigger than it is, probably. because there's no way it's anything like he's thinking. maybe it's — god, maybe it's nothing at all. ]

Do you want to lay down till Caitlin comes back? She can check you out and catch you up on some things. I can —

[ give her some space. leave her alone. let her be. it's hard to tell what she wants and how she wants it. ]

I'm already gonna be in it enough for starting a fight. Maybe I should just let you rest.

[ see, there. brushing the entire thing aside with a simple 'okay', as easy as breathing. it should make her feel better, let her breathe a bit easier — but it doesn't. it just leaves that anxious uncertainty tight in her chest, the words she could have said if she was braver still milling in her mouth.

but she knows, without having to think about it, that she doesn't want to be alone. ]

If I have a concussion, she's going to be mad if you let me fall asleep again.

[ true. but also an excuse to keep him from leaving again, to keep him from turning away and leaving this half-started conversation before it can even potentially get started at all. ]

Don't go. [ not again. ] Please?

[ that was a good point. caitlin had given him pretty strict instructions not to let her go back to sleep once she'd woken up and he's pretty familiar with how easily she can fall asleep in just about any place that gives her a moment of quiet.

so, he nods, sitting back in the chair and slumping down a bit to be more comfortable. ]

She should be back soon to check you out. [ and while he knows daisy probably wants the okay to start moving around, he doubts she's going to get it today or for the next few days. ]

I can get the laptop and give you something to watch, if you want. [ so she doesn't just have to stare at him and wonder what he's thinking. or maybe that's what he was doing to her while he tried not to push her on things he's certain she's not telling him. ]

[ she is staring at him. but he's staring at her too, gaze hot against her skin, and daisy can't figure out why. ]

Marcos.

[ she says his name to stop him from inevitably listing off alternatives to pass the time, gesturing at the space next to her on the couch. it's not the most comfortable set of cushions in the world, they both know that. she's slept with her head against someone's lap in this couch more times than she can count. if he wants her to rest and relax, he's obviously the only person available to volunteer right now.

this should be no different than every other time. right? so why does it feel different? because it is. ]

I — [ she has to say something. ] You have to promise me things won't be weird, okay?

[ so dramatic ]

I — [ immediately starting with a disclaimer like that isn't a good sign. she's gearing up to say something deeply personal and he's getting a warning to not make things weird. he licks his lips and slides off the chair so he can drop back into the spot he'd been in a little while ago. ]

I can promise to try and not make things weird. [ but outright promising isn't something he wants to do until he hears what she wants to tell him. ]

What's going on? [ was she really that against watching something on the laptop? ] What's the matter?

[ he's so close. from the couch to the chair, there had been the buffer of space between them. the coffee table, the rug beneath it, the ugly carpet floor. her empty glass. things to look at between them, to trap her gaze, to make it less — anything? personal? she doesn't know. but he's right there, so close, his body a hair's breath from where hers stops on that small couch, and it takes more willpower than daisy thought she even had to restrain herself from getting up and running away.

he's so close, the reality of what she's trying to say hits her like a freight truck. hits her like she'd hit the car, even, the shockwave of reality slamming into her, and daisy swallows hard once, twice, three times before she manages to speak. ]

You've — you're — [ god, she can't do this. she doesn't know how to say this without sounding like a completely batshit insane person. the kind of person who's had feelings for someone who absolutely does not return them for years now, who's watched them fall in love and fall out of it, who's watched them have a kid and lose their kid and nearly lose their mind as a result. but she is that person, isn't she?

and he knows, for better or for worse, because she's already fucked up and said something she shouldn't. this is just... this is just finalizing it. clearing the air. maybe she'll feel better after. (probably not, but she'll cling to that.) ]

I know we're not together. [ better. she can actually release the breath that's been clutched in her mouth. ] I know because I've thought about it a million times since I met you.

[ her gaze finally, finally meets his, and there's a sense of resignation in it. not quite sad, but... accepting. ]

And it's never been — good timing, I guess. You were with Lorna, and then you weren't, and I just. [ she blows a breath out, lips vibrating ] I don't want things to be weird between us because of it.

[ she pauses for half a second, her tongue darting out to push through her lips before pulling back. ]

We don't have to talk about it. You can ... you know, put something on, and I'll wait for Caitlin to come back, and we can just.

[ move on. ]

[ well, the warning about not making things weird makes more sense now. she starts speaking and his stomach roils, twisting and turning with the revelation. he stares at her, surprise and shock commingling. had he picked up any sense of this? no. at first it had been because he hadn't taken time to know her. she was a good person and good in a fight but he'd been caught up in other things.

then, when he'd finally woken up and paid attention, he'd found her good as a person as well. warm and funny and kind and honest and unafraid. she'd stayed up nights talking to him when he hadn't wanted to be alone and shoved him awake on mornings when getting up was hard.

and now she was confessing something like this. something so big, full of possibilities. ]

Daisy, we've known each other for...years now. [ she'd been feeling this way for years? was that why she was throwing herself in front of bullets and bombs? was that why she was thinking of herself last in every single equation? ]

Some things make a little more sense now. [ their argument of earlier being the prime example of that. he blows out a breath and peers over at her. ]

Why did you — what made you tell me now? [ he hasn't dipped into his own feelings yet, hasn't examined them and told her what he feels and what he wants to do. he doesn't know if he's read for that just yet. ]

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