PSL for Renart

[advanced]

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[aigue]

[She doesn't bother trying to fight him on that because, frankly, having him this close feels really nice. But she will make a valiant attempt to stop crying, taking deep breaths and rubbing her eyes.]

I'm not lying.

[advanced]

If you have to fight it that bad, you're lying. Just let it out, Renart, I ain't gonna judge you for needing to cry.

[Because he's the poster boy for letting out his emotions in a healthy way.]

[aigue]

I'm fine.

[She scowls, looking away from him.]

Crying won't help anything.

[advanced]

You cried before you knew I was awake, what makes it different now?

[Nothing. Nothing makes it different.]

[aigue]

A moment of weakness, that's all. Nothing important.

[advanced]

You think crying is weakness?

[It's asked in a carefully non-judgemental tone.]

[aigue]

I don't want to talk about it.

[She shifts to move off of him.]

I want to go back to bed.

[advanced]

[He obligingly moves back to where he's been sat against the wall, arguing about it isn't going to make her any more likely to let it out.

The best thing he can do is let her have her space.]

[aigue]

[She's a little reluctant to move, honestly, but it's better than him trying to talk to her about her feelings. Wanting nothing to do with those, she crawls back onto the mattress and curls up again.

She'll be spending the rest of the night trying very hard to stay silent, so that doesn't happen again.]

[advanced]

[He waits for a couple of hours, but she's obviously still holding it in and yet by the tension in her spine she's probably not asleep. It's a good job it's dark, it makes speaking personal things a little easier. Not easy, but easier.]

I cried almost every day for a week after the first time I went to the Smithsonian.

[aigue]

[Sleep is about the last thing on her mind right now, despite feeling utterly exhausted. She doesn't even want to think about what kinds of dreams she might have - they'd probably involve Monty, and she doesn't think she can handle that right now.

So she's fully awake when he speaks up, silent for a few moments before answering quietly.]

You've never mentioned that before.

[advanced]

You might not have noticed, but I don't mention a lot of things.

[He knows he can be as close mouthed as a clam sometimes. A lot of the time. All the time. It's only in moments like this, often when he thinks it might help someone else he cares about rather than when the focus is on him, that he unbends a little.]

[aigue]

[She's quiet again, wanting to ask if he didn't mention it because he thought it would be embarrassing, like she thinks. It's Bucky, for all she knows he simply thought it wasn't relevant during their conversations.

She draws in a deep breath.]

Did it ever help?

[advanced]

[This is one of the times of his recovery that he doesn't talk about much, the confusing two or three months between the fight on the helicarriers and gaining some semblance of being a person again. It's hard to talk about because it's hard to think about, his memories of that time are jagged and confusing, like looking through a broken kaleidoscope.

He's silent for about two minutes as he orders his thoughts, he doesn't want to lie to her.]

Not at first, I got really mad at myself because I didn't understand. Everything was still confusing, I didn't remember much of anything, and I thought I was malfunctioning. Weapons don't have emotions, you see, they don't feel. But then I just got sad, and tired, and it made me question things. Like-- if I was a weapon, if HYDRA had been telling the truth, how was I feeling these things? Maybe Steve had told the truth, and maybe the exhibit wasn't all a big lie. I think it helped in a way, it was the first really human thing I'd done in a long time, it opened the door for other things.

[aigue]

Oh.

[From her tone it's clear she wishes he had stopped at No. That would have been a lot easier to hear, that it's pointless and she's right to just shove everything down as usual.]

I'm glad it helped you.

[At least she can be honest about that.]

[advanced]

I think it would help you too, if you'd let it.

[It's gentle, but it's not like he hasn't made the point clear enough.]

[aigue]

I don't know.

[She hesitates, sniffling a little, because the desire to cry hasn't exactly gone away, before sitting up.]

I'm scared of how I'll feel after.

[advanced]

Why?

[He's not judging, he just doesn't get it. Does she think she'll somehow feel embarrassed after? Worse? Is she worried she will feel better, and that makes her feel guilty?]

[aigue]

I'll only end up feeling worse. Or... guilty, if it actually makes me feel better.

[She doesn't like either outcome.]

And none of it will change the fact that he's gone.

[advanced]

And you think because you can't change that he's gone, you shouldn't be allowed to feel better or worse? Are you gonna be stuck in limbo forever?

[He thinks about asking if Monty would want that, but the man was so selfish and weird that he probably would get a kick out of Renart mourning forever.]

[aigue]

I'll move on.

[She curls her tail around herself.]

I always do.

[advanced]

Then why are you afraid of feeling better?

[He's surprised she hasn't just shut this conversation down by now, but he's going to keep pushing his luck until she does.]

[aigue]

Because this is what always happens.

[She's sounding tired and frustrated with it all.]

I get close to someone and if they don't Forget me, then they die. I'm left alone, with nothing but my memories, forced to move on. It's an endless cycle.

[advanced]

You're immortal, Renart, I can't change that being the truth.

[Only another immortal would stand a chance of breaking that cycle.]

But what's the alternative? Never being close to anyone?

[aigue]

[She just nods. That's the only alternative she can see, sadly.]