are you looking for an answer - {for Jo}

[girl_at_the_window]

Susan wakes up into dull, numb agony, every movement aching. It turns out coming back from the dead is never what you'd call relaxing. Everything feels broken, oddly displaced.

It takes her several minutes to gather the strength to sit up, reach for her computer, and, after a little thought, start to type.

>burningpassion: well
>burningpassion: im back

Comments

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie shrugs, but he's glad to have at least gotten her to laugh, no matter how small a laugh it is. It means that what she's been through hasn't completely torn her apart. Not that he'd expect that of her; she's resilient, if nothing else. She's gotten through God knows what else, he's got faith she'll get through this—coming back to life—just fine.

He crosses to sit down on her sofa, making himself comfortable, his lanky frame settling in easily. "You got cream for the coffee? If not, I'll take a little sugar."

[girl_at_the_window]

"Will you, now?" Susan says it without really thinking - some slang's around in her world too, after all - and promptly goes red when she realises. "I mean, uh, I got some cream, I think. Somewhere. Uh."

She really, really did not mean to do that. It would be absolutely fine as a joke, if she was entirely sure they were both joking, and if she hadn't caught herself considering giving him some sugar a moment ago. So now she's just going to... turn away as quickly as possible, and put all her attention into finding the bedamned cream.

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie laughs, and his mouth is halfway to shooting back something saucy when his mind catches up with it, and he promptly shuts it and drops his chin a little. He needs to watch his fucking mouth; it's not appropriate for him to talk with her like he'd talk to Susannah, which was exactly what he'd been about to do. It makes his gut twist heavy with guilt.

He realizes that he's been quiet a little too long, and gives another, more stilted laugh. "—cream's good, too. Anything's better than black coffee with grounds in the bottom."

[girl_at_the_window]

"Ooh, you ain't gonna like my coffee." She laughs low in her throat, trying not to think too hard about what just happened. Her knees are still shaking a little when she straightens up with a cup in one hand and a jug in another, and she looks awfully pale, but she hobbles back over to put them in front of him. "Chie did keep us in cream, I guess. Wasn't too sure of it."

[thefuckingbeam]

Whoops. "I'm sure I'll like your coffee just fine," he assures her. Why is he so concerned with reassuring her that he wasn't trying to insult her coffee? Why is this weird? It shouldn't be weird. He cares for Susan, and for Christ's sake, the girl just came back from the dead. It's only normal for him to want to be nice to her.

"That's good. Good." He watches her wobbling around and feels bad all over again. He should have gotten the damn coffee himself. "Sit down. You shouldn't be waiting on me, you need your rest."

[girl_at_the_window]

"Shut your mouth, Eddie Dean. You're a guest here, I ain't lettin' you do all the work." She considers a moment, wincing slightly. "...I will sit down, though. Shit."

It's less sitting down, more collapsing. She really does hurt all over, with that kind of numb ache you get coming in from the cold. Her wings hurt most, which feels ridiculous, because they're wings, they still don't even feel like part of her.

"So, uh. What'd I miss?" she offers after a moment, clearing her throat.

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie wrinkles his nose at her. "I ain't asking to do all the work, I'm just asking you not to keel over on me." He's glad to see her sitting down, though, especially with the way she collapses into her seat. He scoots over a little to give her some breathing room, only partly because he feels like maybe it would help with some of that lingering weirdness.

"Uh—" He pauses. "Shit. Not much, I gotta tell you. Oh, besides the fact that the Fourth and the Fog are at war and the whole town's torn up because of it." Eddie shrugs. "Just another day in paradise."

[girl_at_the_window]

Susan closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. What she really wants to do right now is scream, and it shows all over her face. There's been many advantages to being here - the house, the job, being accepted in a way she never was back home - but the biggest advantage of all has been going back to the feeling that the fighting's something she can stay out of. She blamed Roland for ruining that back home, on some level, but she can't blame him this time.

"...I guess it was too much to hope for that we might get some bedamned peace and quiet," she mutters at last, rather ferociously, and reaches for her abandoned coffee cup to down what's left. "Can't it ever just be... damn... easy?"

She feels like crying, all of a sudden. Crying and screaming and probably hitting something. It's daft, but she can't shake it. She was just starting to feel safer here, dying notwithstanding.

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie watches her cautiously, already regretting saying that. He hates the thought of trying to shelter her from what's going on, and he's pretty sure she'd resent him for it, but the way she looks at the news is terrible, both because he hates seeing her like this, but also because there's nothing he can do to fix it.

"I know," he says at last. "I know. I'm sorry. It's..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "It's avoidable, at least. If you're smart and don't pick sides unlike some of us." There. Digging at himself is easier than trying to take on big, vague, unknowable threats.

[girl_at_the_window]

She's quiet for a moment, then she shakes her head. "It ain't," she tells him, rather pertly. "It wasn't back home, and it ain't now. I learned that the hard way, I ain't goin' through it all again."

She wants to believe it's avoidable, she really does. But she believed that so long about the war with Farson, that she could keep her head down and her options open. It didn't do much to save her then, and she doesn't think it will now, even if she's still not picking sides.

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie stares down at his hands as she speaks, at the coffee cup he holds between them. He should've anticipated that she'd react that way.

"Still," he says after a moment or two. "You don't have to choose sides. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not me or anyone else." He lifts his head and gives her a look that's uncharacteristically serious.

"And I know you don't need protecting, I know you can protect yourself, but...I'll help, too." Maybe that's what it is he's been feeling. Protective instinct?

[girl_at_the_window]

That wins a smile, and Susan reaches over, without really thinking about it, to touch his hand. It's not comfortable to feel like she has to be protected, but she's grateful, even so, more than she can say. "Thankee, Eddie. I kennit. I ken you will."

Her hand, warm and still flushed and aching from the blood running back into it, tightens briefly on his, and she's moved in a little closer without realising, meeting his eyes. She holds them for a moment, then abruptly drops both her gaze and her hands, clearing her throat.

"I still think you oughtn't get involved like you did. But I ain't gonna give you grief over it."

[thefuckingbeam]

He should pull his hand away. He should put more space between them, he shouldn't stare back into her face the way he does with a strange mix of emotions crossing his expression that he can't even properly identify. He places his other hand over hers for a moment, but lets her pull away without saying anything.

His skinny shoulders shrug, and Eddie cracks a lopsided grin. "Good. I get enough grief from everyone else."

[girl_at_the_window]

"Just so long as you don't bring it knockin' at my door." Susan gives him a smile and a wink - which she immediately regrets, because she didn't mean that flirtily but it definitely doesn't make things less awkwardly charged - and picks her coffee back up. "My house is like Jake's place. No god politics round here."

[thefuckingbeam]

"I know better than that." Eddie's eyes widen a little bit at that wink. Did he just see that? Is she...flirting with him?

More importantly, what if she is? Would he be okay with it? Even if that made him a piece of shit?

"I don't blame either of you. And truth be told? I'm not even into the politics of the whole thing. It's more of a strategic alliance." He's babbling, a little, to cover up the fact that he's nervous and awkward.

[girl_at_the_window]

Susan looks sidelong at him. She can hear that nervousness in his voice, and it makes her even more uncomfortable. She clears her throat, trying to change the subject, as if that's the problem.

"So, uh, you ain't been in here before, right? Not for real, I mean. What'd'you think?"

help them

[thefuckingbeam]

"It's nice," he says, too quickly, and forces himself to relax. Chill out, Eddie. "Really. A lot nicer than the last time I saw this place. It's got a nice lack of twists and turns this time around."

There. See? Humor. He's doing great.

[girl_at_the_window]

Susan's smile is a little taut. She didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, after all. "I've been workin' on the roof," she tells him, when the silence has stretched out just a little too long. "Lost some tiles a while back, but I never got to it before. Sandin' down the floorboards, too. Guess I can get back to it, now I'm..."

Alive. That's... still harder to say than it should be.

[thefuckingbeam]

"Oh, yeah?" He's trying to be relaxed as much as possible, because it's pretty clear now that they're both picking up on this weirdness, and by God, he doesn't want it to be that way between them. "D'you need any help? I've never...done anything like that, but I'm sure I can learn."

He wonders vaguely what might happen if he were to just bring it up. To ask her why things are weird right now. But that's a probably a bad idea.

[girl_at_the_window]

Susan smiles. It's a nice offer, and a tempting one, if she's honest. Spending more time with him would be nice. Having help would be nice.

Given that awkwardness between them, though, spending more time with him might also be a really bad idea. She needs to get the hell over this stupid crush, and watching him roll his sleeves up and put in a good day's work... probably not the best way to do it. Hell, she's feeling a little hot just thinking about it, and that's not a good sign.

"I mean, uh, if you like. I could teach you, for sure. But I don't mind doin' it myself. Takes my mind off things."

[thefuckingbeam]

"Yeah?" He gives her a grin, and nudges her in the ribs with his elbow. "Well how about you just tell me if you ever run into trouble and I'll jump right in and give you a hand. And try my damnedest not to fall off your roof and break my neck."

[girl_at_the_window]

She winces a little - she's still achy, and it isn't so much his elbow that hurts as her instinctive shift away from it - but she answers his grin anyway. "I'll tell'ee. Thankee, Eddie. It's good to have a friend here. Real good."

i'll take self-loathing for 500 alex

[thefuckingbeam]

Eddie doesn't miss her wince, and his face contorts apologetically. "Sorry. Forgot you're probably still not feeling too great." Her thanks draw a genuine smile from him.

"Don't mention it. And I don't just mean handyman shit—you tell me if there's anything else you need, alright? Anything."

He searches her face, wondering if she understands the offer he's making. The one that twists his gut with guilt and fills it with warmth all at once.

poor guy

[girl_at_the_window]

She understands. Or... well, she thinks she does. Thinks, or maybe just hopes that the intensity in his look is what she wants it to be.

Does she want it to be? Does she want to stumble headlong into something like this again, into men she shouldn't be with and broken promises and dishonour? Dark-haired young men with too much intensity in their eyes seem to be her weakness.

Susan bites her lip, and opens her mouth to say Don't say what you don't mean, or It's best we quit talkin' this way, or something else hard-headed and sensible. What she ends up doing, instead, is leaning in impulsively and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth - brief and chaste and deniable, if she's misread everything. She pulls away, but not far.

"Thankee. I'll try."

r i p

[thefuckingbeam]

He knows that this isn't the right choice. He's married, for Christ's sake. But he's been told—by multiple people, even—that if there's a chance of being happy here, he should take it, wife or no. That a place like this changes more than just your body and your mind. Changes your relationships. And, shit, it's been a year. If his wife was going to show up, he'd think it'd happen by now.

And part of him feels almost like this is a mistake he's meant to make, anyway. Susan, Susannah. Maybe ka is trying to tell him something. Or maybe he's just trying to justify these feelings he's been having. Either way, he doesn't move away when Susan leans in, the way he really ought to. Just presses his eyes closed when he feels her lips there on the corner of his mouth, and without even asking it to, lets his hand come up to cup her jaw before she can move away too far.

He wants so badly to just kiss her, to go ahead and stumble headlong, but he restrains himself, searching her eyes for any sign of repulsion. Any sign that she might not want this.

"Tell me I'm...too old for you," he croaks. "Or something." He doesn't sound at all like that's what he actually wants.