But are they really fine? How much do they remember? After- after everything that happened, I wouldn't be surprised if some of them found it hard to even consider going back to normal. If such a thing as normal even existed, after all of that; after everything that happened because of me... because of a story I was trying to fix.
[ He goes quiet for a minute or two as his mind tries to bring to mind everyone who died because they just happened to be there as the story was unfolding. He can't remember all the names, and he can barely picture their faces, but he knows that people died. People were murdered because of him. Scratch murdered people, and he knows he can't pretend he has no responsibility for those deaths. ]
I hope that Rose is all right... the people at the nursing home too. I hope their lives weren't ruined too badly because of me.
[ The touch of her hand on his beard makes him sigh with contentment even though there's still a combination of doubt, guilt, and worry pulling at him. It doesn't feel awkward or slow to him. He's always liked the way it feels when her fingers brush against his beard. Truthfully, he likes it whenever she touches him at all, and he's never really bothered hiding it. ]
I want you to get to do things that you want, though. If an actual date with dinner and a movie is what you want, I want that too.
[ He pauses again as he ponders her words. She's right in that he still finds the thought of eating anything difficult, and the actual action even more so. Something inside him recoils from the idea, and he barely understands why. ]
It isn't, but I can't keep refusing it, can I? Maybe I just have to do it, no matter what I want or don't want. And, well, people are going to find out one way or another.
[ He huffs out a dry laugh. ] Imagine the first person to find out that I'm back is a waitress in a restaurant. That is, if anyone recognizes me at all.
[ Shrugging his shoulders, he adds: ] How about we go to your favorite place to eat and you can order whatever you want, and I'll... I'll pick something to start with. Maybe it'll go better this time.
I'm not sure how much meeting me helped that version of you. [ His brow furrows as he tries to remember it. ] Was that you in another reality, or was that you and I reached out to you earlier than we both knew? That's a headscratcher of a thought.
no subject
[ He goes quiet for a minute or two as his mind tries to bring to mind everyone who died because they just happened to be there as the story was unfolding. He can't remember all the names, and he can barely picture their faces, but he knows that people died. People were murdered because of him. Scratch murdered people, and he knows he can't pretend he has no responsibility for those deaths. ]
I hope that Rose is all right... the people at the nursing home too. I hope their lives weren't ruined too badly because of me.
[ The touch of her hand on his beard makes him sigh with contentment even though there's still a combination of doubt, guilt, and worry pulling at him. It doesn't feel awkward or slow to him. He's always liked the way it feels when her fingers brush against his beard. Truthfully, he likes it whenever she touches him at all, and he's never really bothered hiding it. ]
I want you to get to do things that you want, though. If an actual date with dinner and a movie is what you want, I want that too.
[ He pauses again as he ponders her words. She's right in that he still finds the thought of eating anything difficult, and the actual action even more so. Something inside him recoils from the idea, and he barely understands why. ]
It isn't, but I can't keep refusing it, can I? Maybe I just have to do it, no matter what I want or don't want. And, well, people are going to find out one way or another.
[ He huffs out a dry laugh. ] Imagine the first person to find out that I'm back is a waitress in a restaurant. That is, if anyone recognizes me at all.
[ Shrugging his shoulders, he adds: ] How about we go to your favorite place to eat and you can order whatever you want, and I'll... I'll pick something to start with. Maybe it'll go better this time.
I'm not sure how much meeting me helped that version of you. [ His brow furrows as he tries to remember it. ] Was that you in another reality, or was that you and I reached out to you earlier than we both knew? That's a headscratcher of a thought.