[For a few moments, it seems like she might not answer at all. Like before, she doesn't have words for this feeling. Pushing people away is so normal to her that she nearly does just that, but... He's one of the only people here she feels comfortable being vulnerable with. And she - right now, as much as she hates it, she can't be alone.
[It's so heartbreakingly fragile that he can feel his chest cave a little, aching for the ability to do something to help.]
I won't.
[It's the best he can do, even if it's no good at all. Just - no good. Never any good. He's quiet for a few beats after that, unsure of what to say. The loss of a loved one is never easy to handle,and never easy to react to, and he's always been terrible with reassurances. So eventually, fumbling with his words:]
[He tries to sing a few bars but his fuckin chattering teeth keep him from doing that SO INSTEAD, she just gets another hummed song. He tries to keep this one calm, light, and lacking in melancholy. It's not like a song alone is ever enough to soothe, but...
Maybe it can give her something nice to focus on, even by just a small amount.]
[He's quiet again, considering. His heart aches for her. He hates this place.]
I know. [...] I know nothing makes it better.
[Knowing they're safe somewhere, knowing they all still have the chance to turn this around. Knowing it isn't her fault that she couldn't protect them. Death of a loved one snatches your logic right out of your hands, and she's lost two at once.]
[She cracks, a little bit. Her words come out in a rush.]
When we... we were all in the cave and we got separated after breathing that stuff in, I saw - I saw them both die. And I knew it was an illusion but I was so scared, and then we got back and they took me back to my cabin, and I was so relieved that it wasn't real, that they were alive.
[And then she woke up to the nightmare coming true.]
[He can only imagine how horrific that would have been. For Natalie to have to live through that - her worst nightmare twice in so many hours, and one where there was no waking up from it...
He could say they'll find their killer or killers, but it won't bring them back. It won't undo the pain she's going through right now. And he can't even guarantee that, with their track record. After a second of hesitation, he reaches out and gently touches her arm. It's a feather-light, barely-there gesture, like he's not sure where the line between comfort and just being overwhelming is.]
...Can I - do anything for you? I know that nothing helps much, in situations like this. [...] If you need to cry, or if you'd like a hug...
[He can do so very little, but he'll offer whatever he can.]
[It's unclear if she means just for now, or for as long as this goes on. It's not a very fair request either way, she thinks, but her voice comes out with a tremble in it as she goes on.]
I thought they would... That they would be okay here. I didn't think it would be like last time.
[He hates making promises he can't keep, but he's always been this way. A bleeding heart who can't say no when people he's come to care for ask things of him.]
I won't.
[He promises, even though he can't reasonably promise that.]
I'm sorry - that I can't bring them back, but I won't go anywhere.
[She takes another moment, another few breaths, but... Well, it's not as if she needs to quantify their relationship in order to justify how much it hurts (she already said she loved both of them, after all), but she thinks it'll help explain at least some of the tears.]
[wouldn't that be terrible if wwx hadn't learned that slang yet and was like TOGETHER FOR CURFEW????
But fortunately he was on the sex boat so he does know it, and he gives her a quiet, considering look. He scoots a little further up, so he can gently set his hand against the side of her head instead, just resting it there for a second.]
...Any loss is painful, but - that's something no one should have to experience.
[Losing a significant other. Losing a love. Platonic, romantic - it cuts too deep, any way it's sliced.]
[When she failed so completely and horribly last time. But... Of course she wouldn't be able to protect anyone, even now. Absentmindedly, she brings her hand up to grasp at the one he's placed on her head.]
[Another lapse into silence as he flips his hand around so he can hold hers. He brings his other hand up too, stroking her hair for a beat or two, like he'd do sometimes with A-yuan when he couldn't sleep well at night, amidst the smell of rot and blood.]
...One of the worst parts about these places are how powerless it makes people feel. The guilt you have to carry for things that aren't your fault - because it doesn't matter how many people tell you that, mm?
[Sometimes, guilt is guilt, and guilt never listens to rational thought.]
They're gone for now. [And he's sorry for it.] And we'll work to make sure it's just "for now". I'll do what I can, where I can, too. But I'm sorry - I know nothing is ever enough.
I don't get why... [God. She rubs her free hand over her eyes, blinking rapidly.] We were all in the same place when we fell asleep.
[So she doesn't understand why it was them who presumably stayed awake when she was the one who woke up to find them gone. Still... She takes a breath.]
...I don't either. Life is unkind in strange ways.
[Sometimes, you're the odd man out, or the lone survivor when everyone else ends up unlucky. He doesn't smile, but there's a softness in his expression, and a bone-deep empathy. Yeehaw survivor's guilt...]
[She could say a few different things to that. How rare it is for someone to say that, and how she wants to lean into it like a plant that's gone too long unwatered. Or maybe, how acutely aware she is of the fragility of a promise like that, especially today. It's a little bit terrifying.
She doesn't say either of those things, but her hold on his hand tightens.]
[He gives her hand a squeeze in return, humming out a little soft note of reassurance. It's not much, but it's about all he can manage. He really can't make grand promises - but for now, this is something he can do.]
[She stays silent for a while, but... Eventually she falls asleep again, her hand going slack in his as she does. Even if she slept through the night, she's tired.]
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So, softly:]
...Please don't go.
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I won't.
[It's the best he can do, even if it's no good at all. Just - no good. Never any good. He's quiet for a few beats after that, unsure of what to say. The loss of a loved one is never easy to handle,and never easy to react to, and he's always been terrible with reassurances. So eventually, fumbling with his words:]
...Do you want to hear a song?
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If you want.
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Maybe it can give her something nice to focus on, even by just a small amount.]
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I loved them.
[It's choked out, another small sound.]
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I know. [...] I know nothing makes it better.
[Knowing they're safe somewhere, knowing they all still have the chance to turn this around. Knowing it isn't her fault that she couldn't protect them. Death of a loved one snatches your logic right out of your hands, and she's lost two at once.]
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When we... we were all in the cave and we got separated after breathing that stuff in, I saw - I saw them both die. And I knew it was an illusion but I was so scared, and then we got back and they took me back to my cabin, and I was so relieved that it wasn't real, that they were alive.
[And then she woke up to the nightmare coming true.]
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He could say they'll find their killer or killers, but it won't bring them back. It won't undo the pain she's going through right now. And he can't even guarantee that, with their track record. After a second of hesitation, he reaches out and gently touches her arm. It's a feather-light, barely-there gesture, like he's not sure where the line between comfort and just being overwhelming is.]
...Can I - do anything for you? I know that nothing helps much, in situations like this. [...] If you need to cry, or if you'd like a hug...
[He can do so very little, but he'll offer whatever he can.]
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[It's unclear if she means just for now, or for as long as this goes on. It's not a very fair request either way, she thinks, but her voice comes out with a tremble in it as she goes on.]
I thought they would... That they would be okay here. I didn't think it would be like last time.
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I won't.
[He promises, even though he can't reasonably promise that.]
I'm sorry - that I can't bring them back, but I won't go anywhere.
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...Jason and I were - together.
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But fortunately he was on the sex boat so he does know it, and he gives her a quiet, considering look. He scoots a little further up, so he can gently set his hand against the side of her head instead, just resting it there for a second.]
...Any loss is painful, but - that's something no one should have to experience.
[Losing a significant other. Losing a love. Platonic, romantic - it cuts too deep, any way it's sliced.]
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[When she failed so completely and horribly last time. But... Of course she wouldn't be able to protect anyone, even now. Absentmindedly, she brings her hand up to grasp at the one he's placed on her head.]
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...One of the worst parts about these places are how powerless it makes people feel. The guilt you have to carry for things that aren't your fault - because it doesn't matter how many people tell you that, mm?
[Sometimes, guilt is guilt, and guilt never listens to rational thought.]
They're gone for now. [And he's sorry for it.] And we'll work to make sure it's just "for now". I'll do what I can, where I can, too. But I'm sorry - I know nothing is ever enough.
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[So she doesn't understand why it was them who presumably stayed awake when she was the one who woke up to find them gone. Still... She takes a breath.]
Thank you.
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[Sometimes, you're the odd man out, or the lone survivor when everyone else ends up unlucky. He doesn't smile, but there's a softness in his expression, and a bone-deep empathy. Yeehaw survivor's guilt...]
--You don't need to thank me.
[He hasn't done anything, really.]
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[It's an explanation for her thanks. While nobody can really give her what she wants right now, this is the next best thing.]
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I'll always stay, any time you ask it of me.
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She doesn't say either of those things, but her hold on his hand tightens.]
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