[ it's all happening too fast for him to process, but he sees the moment he fucks up clearly reflected back in her eyes. he isn't quick enough to grab her and he knows he's not strong enough to hold her if she wants to go, but the urge is there anyway, and long after she's gone. it's only seconds after she storms out that he manages to swim through the fugue and back into his body properly, sitting up and throwing blankets away from himself in frustration. so much for vacation. frank takes the time to strap on his knife and secure his boots, knowing she needs a moment to cool down anyway. though what she's even angry about this time is anyone's guess. she doesn't give a shit about what he says, and yet somehow it's always the wrong thing anyway. his luck is truly boundless.
frank digs through his pack for his jacket, pulling the hood over his face first before buttoning it closed. and then he's going for the flask he squirreled away, taking a swig from it before pocketing it and hunching his way back to the entrance of the tent so he can find her. the whole process takes maybe a minute, but he feels like he's moving in slow motion, and like he'll never catch up. he's lost her forever, surely, and the thought fills him with unencumbered dread.
the rain is cool and fresh on his skin, even comforting after a longer dry spell than usual. he blinks it out of his eyes to keep them peeled for any sign of her, not noticing the deep creases in his face that display his worry all too clearly. ] Jess? [ he calls above the growing confidence of the rain's din all around them, turning this way and that to catch a glimpse of black hair, ears pricked for the slosh of a bottle or the stomp of her boots. ]
[ Jess drinks until her mouth is seared clean and her throat coated, stopping only to conserve the rest. She finds and throws on her jacket and her pack and has a last look around for any odds and ends that might be hers. Nothing, so she starts off in the direction with the least dense treeline and is immediately unsatisfied with the mollifying vow she makes to herself that she doesn't need him anymore. She can only stomp so hard or so fast before she'll have to stop and heave, so she takes measured steps with furiously clenched fists, and helplessly reasons through why he's dead to her.
Not least of which is that he let her kiss him in that dumbass treehouse he probably built. It doesn't make any sense, if he values the ideal of protecting her so goddamn much. Unless he thought rejecting her would hurt her more, in which case he chose the path of least resistance for "her" wellbeing. Did he ever want her at all then? Did he think she wanted to use him to that extent even if he didn't?
A branch snags on her hair, not for the first time, but Jess snaps and rips the branch down with barely a grunt. When no monster zooms in to sweep her back into Kevin's arms, she kicks it to halves and it's his ribs splintering all over her boots. ]
[ it's the twig snap that does it, and he beelines to the noise, stomach twisting into knots as he hears her kick the ground. he isn't afraid of her wrath - well, maybe a little - so much as he wants to tear himself in two for hurting her. in his defense, he didn't even know he could, and he still doesn't even know why it's possible.
when he appears it's with heaving breath, heart pounding fast as he struggles to draw oxygen back into his lungs. when he catches sight of her at last, he takes in the familiar scene. it's almost comforting for how expected it is. if only he could stop pissing her off instead, that would be a much more productive way to spend the rain time. ]
Jessica, please... [ hear him out? even if he really sucks at talking, he knows it's Time. he steels himself to prepare for how seriously dumb and dramatic this confession is going to taste. ] Stay.
Edited (reprises my one letter edit street name) 2018-05-07 06:20 (UTC)
[ She stalks away from the scene of her aggression, consumed with memories of violence, real and fantasized. Her eyes prickle hotly from all the fury and anguish she has no choice but to live with. He catches up to her but she can't stop moving. Or think of anything cuttingly brusque to say, just crowds and clusterfucks of words that are too revealing normally, let alone under the toxic shadow of her Ongoing Traumatic Stress Disorder.
If he can keep up, he can talk. He can see her fists, he knows the risks. ]
[ he pulls in another deep breath, ignoring the way it makes his lungs burn. he wishes he had time for a gulp of whiskey, but here goes literally nothing. he pushes himself to walk at her pace, eyes zeroing in on the tension in her frame and those deadly clenched fists. even now it's a struggle not to admire her, when the brunt of her aggression is placed squarely on his shoulders. but it doesn't make it easier no matter what he does and his head tips up to gauge how loud he can be, fat droplets of water catching in his eyelashes with the move. ]
I'm sorry. [ he should really start there because he is, for literally all of it. witnessing her murder, making her a sandwich, giving her his jacket, saving faith, saving kara. there's literally nothing he isn't sorry for, up to and including getting so wrapped up in every kid's life here that he's indistinguishable from the lot of them. but all of that is easily pushed aside for easily the worst offense. frank bites into his lip harshly and tries to think of the least dumb way to just blurt it out, because he doesn't have much air and she doesn't have any patience left, so he knows he has to be fast. ] I think I-- [ it's not a nebulous maybe anymore and he shoves the wording aside, knowing him being wishy-washy won't do them any favors. this is it. he's just going to say it. god, but he feels dumb. ]
I have feelings for you. [ and once it's out in the bluntness of day - he selfishly feels better. he doesn't have any delusions that he will for long, but he really wasn't sure he'd be able to say it. right now at least he doesn't have to worry about her rejection or ridicule. she's already livid so it isn't like he can make it worse (right???) and besides, a side of him would seriously welcome a laugh from her now. ]
[ Starved of sound on the dry days, the careless snap of twigs under her boots is as cathartic as twisting bubblewrap until it's burst flat. It peppers in among the cacophony of his breath, heavy and just as careless. She shirks off his apology with a scoff, warranted to stop and face him when he blurts his heart onto her heels. ]
I tried to stop that. [ For the fuck of pete, there's nothing to see in her that's worth the trouble. What few positive qualities she has, he can find in spades elsewhere, spring-like and sweet instead of fossilized beneath layer upon layer of bad shit -- which, honestly, he could get elsewhere too, if that's the appeal. She's not the only manipulative, sarcastic asshole around.
Jess fixes him with a watery glare, advancing a step lest he think he's made it on the list of things she's running away from. ] I killed you, for Christ's sake. Did you just forget about that?
[ at least it got her to stop, he can't help but think petulantly. but he nods at the statement, knowing that it's true; and bile rising in his throat because he'd tried to stop it too. he really had. but by the time he realized what this was between them -- it was already too damn late.
he opens his mouth to apologize again even if he knows she doesn't want it. would probably have anything else but his sorries. but he isn't quick enough and she's talking about what happened with kara like she stuck a knife in him herself. it wasn't like that and he has to set that record straight if nothing else. ]
You didn't kill me, Jess. [ it's soft, but his gruff voice carries easily through the rain anyway, especially with her advancing on him. his feet plant resolutely, body language clear: he's not going anywhere until they've hashed this out to the end. ] Kilgrave killed me. I know you feel responsible for everything that shitbag does, but you're not.
[ No, Kilgrave took him. Because she couldn't wait around long enough in the Reset Room for his number to come up, because she couldn't risk anyone else falling prey to the same fate. She couldn't trust the people who trusted her; he was the only exception and he'll keep on paying for it as long as he pursues her and probably, by now, even if he stops. Same goes for her. Somehow he became her second-in-command, somehow she became in command, a mistake she would rather die than make twice, if death were worth an actual damn.
Jess looks baffled by his attempt to clarify, an old puzzle piece to which none of these new ones correspond. ]
You don't get to pick and choose what I did and what he did to me based on how goddamn guilty you feel touching me. I'm not one of them. [ Not Faith, not Kara, not Frank Castle, though the move she pulled last night is probably in two-third's of their repertoires if not all three. ]
[ that one hurts, striking like a physical blow to his guts. but he forces himself to remain steady no matter how upset she gets. she deserves to lash out at him, because somehow it's all his fault. while criticizing her for taking things onto herself, he's actually the worst offender in that category and it's only made worse by the fact that he knows it. but if he let himself off the hook for things above his paygrade, that would mean he's actually helpless and that's simply unacceptable for a man like him. jessica of all people should know why. ]
I know you're not. [ it's impossibly soft, his eyes doughy to match. there's no insincerity to be found here, not that he's ever been anything but obnoxiously earnest with her anyway. he takes a shuffling step towards her in defiance - with his history if she honestly thinks he could develop feelings for someone he sees as a victim then she doesn't know him at all. and maybe that's somehow his fault, too. he'll take it on himself whether he could have prevented it or not. ] Your plan-- our plan, I was supposed to get away. That's on me for going down with the ship. And if she had just--
[ he starts to get angry and just as quickly deflates, letting out a breath as his shoulders drop and a hand comes up to pinch the hopelessly crooked bridge of his nose. kara is a problem unto herself, one they don't have the time nor the will to parse through today. that could easily waste the rainfall, but instead they're talking about his dumb feelings. they're both probably a waste, but he needs her to understand that it isn't what she thinks it is. ]
It doesn't matter. [ he rubs his eyes briefly before letting his hand drop again, leveling her with a serious stare. ] If you did kill me, it was to save them. It was worth it. [ or would have been if literally anyone had gotten with the program. ]
You like to pretend you don't give a fuck, but you do. I see it and I've been right here at your side, Jess. [ he points at the ground, and realizes how little space is between them anymore. ]
[ Jess crosses her arms, initially wracking her brain for a good excuse to let him talk. She comes up empty but allows his voice to fill the ensuing silence anyway. If it's the last time she's going to hear it, what does it matter if it's bullshit. Volleying blame around isn't getting them anywhere, each of them embodying the unstoppable force and immovable object interchangeably and to the fullest possible commitment. ]
So, what? [ She shrugs needlessly, casting her gaze off at the higher boughs surrounding them before steering it back to him, hard and skeptical. ] You think I don't care about you? [ He's not that fucking stupid but she'll grant it that he is that self-destructive, -loathing, all the other -hyphened psychological garbage they both reek of. But seriously ] Are you shitting me? [ She willingly brought him with her out here and not to murder. She's felt she exposed her predisposition towards him the second she told him she'd go. ]
[ any anger or righteousness he once felt he was rightfully on the side of disappears with that one outburst. he pushes a hand back through his wet hair, knocking his ineffectual hood off his head in the process. is she saying... what he thinks she is? he wants to blame himself for being thick on this one, but she tried, she said. at every turn she'd tried to shrug him off and go out of her way to tell him 'it didn't have to mean anything.' unless-- maybe he really is that stupid, after all. ]
I know you care. [ it's the 'about him' part that he can't reconcile, but even in times where she said she wanted him to leave her alone, she was still there - wasn't she? just as his own feelings, it's only in retrospect that he can even begin to see hers. frank shakes his head, suddenly acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing harshly through his ears. he just wants to go back, even a few hours would be enough. his hand reaches out until it connects with her arm, but it's barely even that in anticipation of being shrugged off. ] Don't go, okay? Please don't go.
[ it's pathetic and he knows it, but he can't stomach this being the last time they see each other. he needs her. ]
[ Her arms drop to her sides but, like neither of them are expecting, her shoulders don't shake him off. Jess strains to swallow, blinking rainwater off her eyelashes. ]
I'm scared. [ Jess stresses, spits, hisses it. It's a hideous feeling to have and uglier to own up to. It's constant toil to feel anything else through it and managing it has worn her down to the marrow. If he can't see her caring for him now, how can she promise to change? As if she doesn't want to, even for such a crappy, backwards reason. Anything is better than suspending herself in a living death, as relegated the back of her own life as she ever was on Kevin's arm.
Her abrupt switch to such a softness that the rainfall threatens to swallow it puts her off. Imperceptibly, among the shame she's already soaked in. ] It's never gonna stop. I don't know how to make it stop.
[ when she doesn't let go, he steps in the rest of the way, the toes of their boots matching up. he lives in terror, just as surely as she does - this place doesn't add or take any of that away from them. kilgrave being here only makes her fear more acute, and as ever he wishes he could take it away. but he can't, he's tried. all he can be is safe. safe to her and safe to himself are equally as important, he's only now coming to realize. his hand rubs up and down her arm, from slightly above her elbow to just below her shoulder - it's as much to comfort her as it is himself. ]
I know, I know. [ it's not okay and he can't say it is, but after another second's hesitation, he uses their point of contact to gently pull her in against his chest. initiating a hug used to feel so normal, and now it's like he doesn't even remember how. but he puts forth the effort because it's the only tool in his arsenal against the way jess feels now. it's a lame remedy, but it's what he wants to be for her. it's easier to show her than to tell her even when he sucks at both. ]
[ She stares over his shoulder and sure enough, they're still alone. Shudders start from her lungs so Jess steadies herself on him as though the threat isn't coming from inside. She holds him to her hard, glaring balefully through the forest leading back to Reims.
If she goes back, it means withholding distribution of the vaccine until Kilgrave can land himself in prison for inevitably abusing his ability. If it ever comes out that she did that, she'll deserve the witch hunt. The alternative is to postpone the inevitable for everyone's peace of mind but hers. Jess will know her choice instantly but she reels against thinking that far into it and whittling away the last splinter of control she has over herself. ]
I need more time. [ Jess stonily implores, lending no slack to her vice-like embrace. She wants him to stay. While he does, the future remains clouded. If he goes, Jess will never see him again as long as she lives -- and after she dies, his guess is as good as hers. ]
[ his embrace is as gentle as hers is rough, and he permits it all as if he had a choice in the matter. he needs to be steady now so he is, easily ignoring the rain pelting down around them as he holds her fast and switches his rubbing to her back, his cheek molding against hers as he understands and absorbs her fears as his own. ]
Okay. [ as if he'd deny her now, at zero hour. his other hand finds her waist and he clings on, trying to prove to her he's not going anywhere. for as much as everyone claims to need him back in reims, frank is starting to come to terms with jess needing him just as much - maybe more. and of course she'd shied away from it; had even vehemently denied it to his face. but he was supposed to parse through all of that and get here, right? ] But if we're staying can we go back inside?
[ a soft ask, murmured close to her ear. he tries to keep some humor in there to fall back on, but he isn't sure it translates. her grip is nearly bonecrushing and yet he's loathe for her to loosen it, wanting to stay just this way for as long as they can. but they should also get out of the rain now that their clothes and better judgment have been soaked through. he winds her hair behind her ear and presses a kiss to the side of her face before resting his boulder of a head on her shoulder. for all his talk, he could stay here forever. ]
[ A jerk of her head serves as a nod despite her arm winding higher on his back, hand hiking over his shoulder. Jess holds him tighter than she lets herself hold anyone, for the span of a blink. With a defiantly even sigh, her grip gives and then falls away. She leans off his chest like the water has her sealed there, peeling herself from him to head back.
With a heavy step, she deliberately knocks her hair loose again so that most of her profile is obscured. Along with it, hopefully, the misgiving edge to her compromise. Worst case scenario: More talking. Best case: She goes back to sleep? She doesn't know, but there's no reason to stay out here, none that can be backed up with logic. ]
[ when it's finally time to let go, he offers a watery smile in solidarity. it's as lame as all the rest, even as he reaches into his pocket for the whiskey he'd stashed and takes a long, satisfying pull. they were supposed to be shirking responsibility and instead what do they do? frank walks too close, their elbows knocking even as he gets the flask shut before he can spill the precious liquid. frank eventually does wander off the path to take that piss before hooking back up with her on the way back to the tent. it's a real downpour now, and yet the simple little structure looks warm and inviting.
frank ducks inside and starts stripping, taking off his boots and rescuing his liquor from his pocket before getting started on the rest. it feels so nice to be rid of wet clothes he doesn't think about anything else until everything's lying in a neat pile by his boots. he picks his bottle up and lays down on top of their blankets, waiting for her to join him as the bedclothes soak up excess water from his bare skin. it's easy to sink back into silence even with the rain just outside. suddenly he's exhausted, taking a lazy sip as he meets her eyes from across the scant space. ]
[ They make it back in what feels like half the time it took her to storm into the woods. Their little Eeyore house has proven itself surprisingly sturdy. Jess begrudges it that, shrugging out of her pack and jacket outside the entrance before tossing both in and getting in herself. Getting her socks off first, it's her jeans that take the most time, damp as they are to the skin. She shoves them down her thighs and they go inside out as she thuds onto her backside and yanks them off her calves and free of her ankles.
Her flannel is dry except for the buttons along the front -- and now between her shoulder blades, where her soaked hair has collected. Jess tugs it over her head instead of fussing with the buttons, then rakes all her hair over one shoulder. She twists it into a rope and squeezes rainwater over and through her fists, over the pile of wet denim. In her tank top and underwear, she shuffles away from the tent wall for warmth.
Without motions left to go through, Jess can't resist unreservedly reading him. She's never seen this much of him, most poignantly felt in the way he's looking at her. She can tell he's comfortable but it's different than it's been before, somehow. Jess settles onto her side a few inches from him, resting her head on her bent arm, watching him. For once, she isn't searching him for a motive or an advantageous fatal flaw. Just watching. She easily fills her lungs fuller than she thought they could go, but it's good. ]
[ frank doesn't mind her watching him though usually he might - from someone else. with her it's almost like there are no limits, and maybe he would have noticed that a lot sooner if they weren't in this dumb, silent place, right? or maybe not. he knows he's thickheaded anyway. and this kind of silence is nice, self-imposed. he takes another sip before offering her the bottle, a tiny tremor wracking up his spine from the chill outside and the warmth burning down his throat both. with only his boxer briefs to guard him against it, the urge is to draw in closer is strong, but he sticks to fiddling with the hem of her shirt for the moment, breathing her air and enjoying doing so. ]
[ Jess doesn't think she's any colder than she was when she was outside and dressed but she knows that can't be true. And she knows it's not her abilities either, which make low temperatures marginally less unbearable for her than the average Joelle. It's the ice flow in her veins, little shards of her brain and heart sloshing along it like the castoffs of glaciers. She runs cold, but judging by the coarse gooseflesh raised all down her legs, not cold enough. The whiskey emphatically seconds that sign, simmering on the way to her stomach, leaving the inside of her throat seared and twice as thirsty.
Jess has another swig from the bottle, which seems to have become her centre of gravity as she holds it to her mouth til the base hits the ground. Jess stays propped there, poorly balanced with her leg come to lie fully against his. With her hair in front of her, her armed pinned beneath her to the right and his chest walling off her left, Jess tries to expand the false sense of security that she feels in that small, dark space, until it can encompass the tent for as long as it stands. Tries. Sighing, Jess briefly rests her forehead to the bottle's mouth and then raises her head to hand it back. ]
[ he presses his leg back against hers, trying to usher some warmth back into both of them even with the alcohol stealing precious degrees. he watches her drink, a soft smile on his face all the while. it's almost like they never went outside at all, an alternate reality where they weren't the two most dramatic people to ever come here. when she hands him the whiskey at last, he only takes a tiny pull from it before capping it off and placing it above their heads within reach. then he's settling in, arm bracketing over his head so he can use his shoulder as a pillow. his eyes nearly cross when he tries to look at her from suddenly so much closer, but it doesn't put him off the effort.
the hand tangled in her shirt shifts to run calloused pads along the sliver of flesh exposed to the tent, his ankle rubbing against hers as his face tips forward until their noses brush. he can smell whiskey on her breath as surely as his own, and for the first time between himself and jessica things seem easy. pleasantly, blissfully simple. ]
[ It is almost like they never went out inside, in that Jess doesn't know how far he wants to go. If he suddenly changes his mind again, she'll live. She lives through everything. Just like before, she doesn't want him to. He heard her admit she wasn't the hardass she had to convince him she was, didn't he? Does that change anything or is it just going to make him realize that it doesn't? No more or less of her is at stake yet between this bed and that broken branch, she got skin in the game for real. ]
Frank... [ Jess softly warns, shuddering as his breath spears through her, warmer than her own. Her hand has assumed the spot the whiskey bottle indented, planted between them to keep her stable. Instead she uses him, fingers and palm wrapping over the seam of his ribcage. Jess gently pushes back at his face, biting her lip nervously as she digs her nails shallowly into his skin. Pushing him to draw the line or step past it, finally. ]
[ he doesn't want to change his mind either, and he doesn't think he's going to; but there's still that note of uncertainty hanging between them and he's not really in a rush to clear it up. frank tips in closer at the sound of his name, his other hand coming down to cup her face. his breathing stutters when her nails bite into him, and he squirms forward until his hipbone taps hers. it's enjoyable for him, skirting this line. it doesn't occur to him that jessica is looking to him for a definitive action here. ] Yeah? [ it's soft and he feels like it's been moments since she spoke, when surely it's only been seconds. ]
[ She didn't plan a follow-up. The fact that he moves closer jacks up the volume of her heartbeat but Jess wrestles it back down with a swallow, wispy vestiges of whiskey on her tongue. She shakes her head to dismiss herself despite the words she's rearranging in it, hoping to pin down what she became aware of feeling, like, ten minutes ago. ]
I don't know what you want. [ Muttered with her face tucked in too close for him to read. She had some idea before but confidence came easier when he was wandering in the dark, certain she didn't give a damn. Her hand smooths lower down his side until her thumb slips below the muscle curving over his hip. She resists the urge to scrape her lips with the stubble of his jaw. The moment is tense for her, not quite tender. ]
[ another sharp breath gets caught in his throat at the mirroring touch. he could so easily just - kiss her and he knows she would respond. but they're still responding to different stimuli, at least as deep as he can figure out, and that scares him. it could prove volatile in the end, inspire jealousy he doesn't want to feel. he has no right to stake his claim over her and no will to do so anyway. frank can't truly belong to her for as surely as he'd die again at her command with zero hesitation. so he can't ask that of her, and would never dream of doing so.
his face tips in even another fraction of an inch, and he feels an electric spark at the first contact of their lips. they haven't since the treehouse, but this is a different scene in a different act - it isn't even colored the same. maybe they aren't even the same people they were then. he speaks lowly against her lips, answering her statement with a question. one he's been dying to know the answer of since he first put the pieces together. ]
When we get back- [ he can't say home. they each have some approximation of that, but trish and david are here. for all intents and purposes, their lives are here, until they aren't. and then somehow they'll be inexplicably in the same universe breathing the same toxic air all over again. he has no way of knowing if each of them will remember this place, or each other. but if they do remember and if they do remember one another, he wants to know if it means anything. he needs to. ] Are we strangers?
[ his breathing is thready, but there's no hint or inclination towards pulling away no matter what her answer is, if she has one. he thinks she's been trying not to think of 'home' as much as he has. maybe it's why he presses more intently into the line of their bodies while he waits for a reply that might not come, his fingers working insistently higher over her abdomen and one leg stubbornly tucked between hers now. ]
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frank digs through his pack for his jacket, pulling the hood over his face first before buttoning it closed. and then he's going for the flask he squirreled away, taking a swig from it before pocketing it and hunching his way back to the entrance of the tent so he can find her. the whole process takes maybe a minute, but he feels like he's moving in slow motion, and like he'll never catch up. he's lost her forever, surely, and the thought fills him with unencumbered dread.
the rain is cool and fresh on his skin, even comforting after a longer dry spell than usual. he blinks it out of his eyes to keep them peeled for any sign of her, not noticing the deep creases in his face that display his worry all too clearly. ] Jess? [ he calls above the growing confidence of the rain's din all around them, turning this way and that to catch a glimpse of black hair, ears pricked for the slosh of a bottle or the stomp of her boots. ]
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Not least of which is that he let her kiss him in that dumbass treehouse he probably built. It doesn't make any sense, if he values the ideal of protecting her so goddamn much. Unless he thought rejecting her would hurt her more, in which case he chose the path of least resistance for "her" wellbeing. Did he ever want her at all then? Did he think she wanted to use him to that extent even if he didn't?
A branch snags on her hair, not for the first time, but Jess snaps and rips the branch down with barely a grunt. When no monster zooms in to sweep her back into Kevin's arms, she kicks it to halves and it's his ribs splintering all over her boots. ]
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when he appears it's with heaving breath, heart pounding fast as he struggles to draw oxygen back into his lungs. when he catches sight of her at last, he takes in the familiar scene. it's almost comforting for how expected it is. if only he could stop pissing her off instead, that would be a much more productive way to spend the rain time. ]
Jessica, please... [ hear him out? even if he really sucks at talking, he knows it's Time. he steels himself to prepare for how seriously dumb and dramatic this confession is going to taste. ] Stay.
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If he can keep up, he can talk. He can see her fists, he knows the risks. ]
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I'm sorry. [ he should really start there because he is, for literally all of it. witnessing her murder, making her a sandwich, giving her his jacket, saving faith, saving kara. there's literally nothing he isn't sorry for, up to and including getting so wrapped up in every kid's life here that he's indistinguishable from the lot of them. but all of that is easily pushed aside for easily the worst offense. frank bites into his lip harshly and tries to think of the least dumb way to just blurt it out, because he doesn't have much air and she doesn't have any patience left, so he knows he has to be fast. ] I think I-- [ it's not a nebulous maybe anymore and he shoves the wording aside, knowing him being wishy-washy won't do them any favors. this is it. he's just going to say it. god, but he feels dumb. ]
I have feelings for you. [ and once it's out in the bluntness of day - he selfishly feels better. he doesn't have any delusions that he will for long, but he really wasn't sure he'd be able to say it. right now at least he doesn't have to worry about her rejection or ridicule. she's already livid so it isn't like he can make it worse (right???) and besides, a side of him would seriously welcome a laugh from her now. ]
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I tried to stop that. [ For the fuck of pete, there's nothing to see in her that's worth the trouble. What few positive qualities she has, he can find in spades elsewhere, spring-like and sweet instead of fossilized beneath layer upon layer of bad shit -- which, honestly, he could get elsewhere too, if that's the appeal. She's not the only manipulative, sarcastic asshole around.
Jess fixes him with a watery glare, advancing a step lest he think he's made it on the list of things she's running away from. ] I killed you, for Christ's sake. Did you just forget about that?
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he opens his mouth to apologize again even if he knows she doesn't want it. would probably have anything else but his sorries. but he isn't quick enough and she's talking about what happened with kara like she stuck a knife in him herself. it wasn't like that and he has to set that record straight if nothing else. ]
You didn't kill me, Jess. [ it's soft, but his gruff voice carries easily through the rain anyway, especially with her advancing on him. his feet plant resolutely, body language clear: he's not going anywhere until they've hashed this out to the end. ] Kilgrave killed me. I know you feel responsible for everything that shitbag does, but you're not.
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Jess looks baffled by his attempt to clarify, an old puzzle piece to which none of these new ones correspond. ]
You don't get to pick and choose what I did and what he did to me based on how goddamn guilty you feel touching me. I'm not one of them. [ Not Faith, not Kara, not Frank Castle, though the move she pulled last night is probably in two-third's of their repertoires if not all three. ]
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I know you're not. [ it's impossibly soft, his eyes doughy to match. there's no insincerity to be found here, not that he's ever been anything but obnoxiously earnest with her anyway. he takes a shuffling step towards her in defiance - with his history if she honestly thinks he could develop feelings for someone he sees as a victim then she doesn't know him at all. and maybe that's somehow his fault, too. he'll take it on himself whether he could have prevented it or not. ] Your plan-- our plan, I was supposed to get away. That's on me for going down with the ship. And if she had just--
[ he starts to get angry and just as quickly deflates, letting out a breath as his shoulders drop and a hand comes up to pinch the hopelessly crooked bridge of his nose. kara is a problem unto herself, one they don't have the time nor the will to parse through today. that could easily waste the rainfall, but instead they're talking about his dumb feelings. they're both probably a waste, but he needs her to understand that it isn't what she thinks it is. ]
It doesn't matter. [ he rubs his eyes briefly before letting his hand drop again, leveling her with a serious stare. ] If you did kill me, it was to save them. It was worth it. [ or would have been if literally anyone had gotten with the program. ]
You like to pretend you don't give a fuck, but you do. I see it and I've been right here at your side, Jess. [ he points at the ground, and realizes how little space is between them anymore. ]
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So, what? [ She shrugs needlessly, casting her gaze off at the higher boughs surrounding them before steering it back to him, hard and skeptical. ] You think I don't care about you? [ He's not that fucking stupid but she'll grant it that he is that self-destructive, -loathing, all the other -hyphened psychological garbage they both reek of. But seriously ] Are you shitting me? [ She willingly brought him with her out here and not to murder. She's felt she exposed her predisposition towards him the second she told him she'd go. ]
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I know you care. [ it's the 'about him' part that he can't reconcile, but even in times where she said she wanted him to leave her alone, she was still there - wasn't she? just as his own feelings, it's only in retrospect that he can even begin to see hers. frank shakes his head, suddenly acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing harshly through his ears. he just wants to go back, even a few hours would be enough. his hand reaches out until it connects with her arm, but it's barely even that in anticipation of being shrugged off. ] Don't go, okay? Please don't go.
[ it's pathetic and he knows it, but he can't stomach this being the last time they see each other. he needs her. ]
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I'm scared. [ Jess stresses, spits, hisses it. It's a hideous feeling to have and uglier to own up to. It's constant toil to feel anything else through it and managing it has worn her down to the marrow. If he can't see her caring for him now, how can she promise to change? As if she doesn't want to, even for such a crappy, backwards reason. Anything is better than suspending herself in a living death, as relegated the back of her own life as she ever was on Kevin's arm.
Her abrupt switch to such a softness that the rainfall threatens to swallow it puts her off. Imperceptibly, among the shame she's already soaked in. ] It's never gonna stop. I don't know how to make it stop.
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I know, I know. [ it's not okay and he can't say it is, but after another second's hesitation, he uses their point of contact to gently pull her in against his chest. initiating a hug used to feel so normal, and now it's like he doesn't even remember how. but he puts forth the effort because it's the only tool in his arsenal against the way jess feels now. it's a lame remedy, but it's what he wants to be for her. it's easier to show her than to tell her even when he sucks at both. ]
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If she goes back, it means withholding distribution of the vaccine until Kilgrave can land himself in prison for inevitably abusing his ability. If it ever comes out that she did that, she'll deserve the witch hunt. The alternative is to postpone the inevitable for everyone's peace of mind but hers. Jess will know her choice instantly but she reels against thinking that far into it and whittling away the last splinter of control she has over herself. ]
I need more time. [ Jess stonily implores, lending no slack to her vice-like embrace. She wants him to stay. While he does, the future remains clouded. If he goes, Jess will never see him again as long as she lives -- and after she dies, his guess is as good as hers. ]
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Okay. [ as if he'd deny her now, at zero hour. his other hand finds her waist and he clings on, trying to prove to her he's not going anywhere. for as much as everyone claims to need him back in reims, frank is starting to come to terms with jess needing him just as much - maybe more. and of course she'd shied away from it; had even vehemently denied it to his face. but he was supposed to parse through all of that and get here, right? ] But if we're staying can we go back inside?
[ a soft ask, murmured close to her ear. he tries to keep some humor in there to fall back on, but he isn't sure it translates. her grip is nearly bonecrushing and yet he's loathe for her to loosen it, wanting to stay just this way for as long as they can. but they should also get out of the rain now that their clothes and better judgment have been soaked through. he winds her hair behind her ear and presses a kiss to the side of her face before resting his boulder of a head on her shoulder. for all his talk, he could stay here forever. ]
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With a heavy step, she deliberately knocks her hair loose again so that most of her profile is obscured. Along with it, hopefully, the misgiving edge to her compromise. Worst case scenario: More talking. Best case: She goes back to sleep? She doesn't know, but there's no reason to stay out here, none that can be backed up with logic. ]
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frank ducks inside and starts stripping, taking off his boots and rescuing his liquor from his pocket before getting started on the rest. it feels so nice to be rid of wet clothes he doesn't think about anything else until everything's lying in a neat pile by his boots. he picks his bottle up and lays down on top of their blankets, waiting for her to join him as the bedclothes soak up excess water from his bare skin. it's easy to sink back into silence even with the rain just outside. suddenly he's exhausted, taking a lazy sip as he meets her eyes from across the scant space. ]
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Her flannel is dry except for the buttons along the front -- and now between her shoulder blades, where her soaked hair has collected. Jess tugs it over her head instead of fussing with the buttons, then rakes all her hair over one shoulder. She twists it into a rope and squeezes rainwater over and through her fists, over the pile of wet denim. In her tank top and underwear, she shuffles away from the tent wall for warmth.
Without motions left to go through, Jess can't resist unreservedly reading him. She's never seen this much of him, most poignantly felt in the way he's looking at her. She can tell he's comfortable but it's different than it's been before, somehow. Jess settles onto her side a few inches from him, resting her head on her bent arm, watching him. For once, she isn't searching him for a motive or an advantageous fatal flaw. Just watching. She easily fills her lungs fuller than she thought they could go, but it's good. ]
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Jess has another swig from the bottle, which seems to have become her centre of gravity as she holds it to her mouth til the base hits the ground. Jess stays propped there, poorly balanced with her leg come to lie fully against his. With her hair in front of her, her armed pinned beneath her to the right and his chest walling off her left, Jess tries to expand the false sense of security that she feels in that small, dark space, until it can encompass the tent for as long as it stands. Tries. Sighing, Jess briefly rests her forehead to the bottle's mouth and then raises her head to hand it back. ]
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the hand tangled in her shirt shifts to run calloused pads along the sliver of flesh exposed to the tent, his ankle rubbing against hers as his face tips forward until their noses brush. he can smell whiskey on her breath as surely as his own, and for the first time between himself and jessica things seem easy. pleasantly, blissfully simple. ]
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Frank... [ Jess softly warns, shuddering as his breath spears through her, warmer than her own. Her hand has assumed the spot the whiskey bottle indented, planted between them to keep her stable. Instead she uses him, fingers and palm wrapping over the seam of his ribcage. Jess gently pushes back at his face, biting her lip nervously as she digs her nails shallowly into his skin. Pushing him to draw the line or step past it, finally. ]
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I don't know what you want. [ Muttered with her face tucked in too close for him to read. She had some idea before but confidence came easier when he was wandering in the dark, certain she didn't give a damn. Her hand smooths lower down his side until her thumb slips below the muscle curving over his hip. She resists the urge to scrape her lips with the stubble of his jaw. The moment is tense for her, not quite tender. ]
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his face tips in even another fraction of an inch, and he feels an electric spark at the first contact of their lips. they haven't since the treehouse, but this is a different scene in a different act - it isn't even colored the same. maybe they aren't even the same people they were then. he speaks lowly against her lips, answering her statement with a question. one he's been dying to know the answer of since he first put the pieces together. ]
When we get back- [ he can't say home. they each have some approximation of that, but trish and david are here. for all intents and purposes, their lives are here, until they aren't. and then somehow they'll be inexplicably in the same universe breathing the same toxic air all over again. he has no way of knowing if each of them will remember this place, or each other. but if they do remember and if they do remember one another, he wants to know if it means anything. he needs to. ] Are we strangers?
[ his breathing is thready, but there's no hint or inclination towards pulling away no matter what her answer is, if she has one. he thinks she's been trying not to think of 'home' as much as he has. maybe it's why he presses more intently into the line of their bodies while he waits for a reply that might not come, his fingers working insistently higher over her abdomen and one leg stubbornly tucked between hers now. ]
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