pain_train | SANCTUM INBOX

She doesn't even have any siblings (not that she can remember) and even she can't quite encompass the horror of that particular concept. She's heard how North talks about his sister. "Oh no, baby."

...it's a dumb thing to say. It's the best she can manage in that moment.

And she really, really, really, really hates being in traction. All she can do is hold onto his hand as tightly as possible. Because the worst part is this: if he didn't think it was possible, it wouldn't gnaw at him like this.

"It's just because of what Delta said," he says, sotto voce. "If Delta hadn't told me that I wouldn't have known anything about it to...I don't know, come up with it in my head."

He presses a hand to his forehead. There's that agitation, showing more plainly in the way he grits his teeth and tilts his head.

And it's all falling apart. The wall he'd put up in his head to avoid thinking about it. "God...Delta's not a liar, Wrath. He isn't. He must have misunderstood something." His hand moves from his head to the railing of her bed and he grip it hard, seemingly holding his own weight up by leaning into it.

She doesn't know Delta, so she can't comment on that at all. She tugs on North's hand, but it's a rather useless gesture. She doesn't have another hand. She can't... she can't touch anything but his hand, let alone give him a hug. "Okay. Okay."

But being honest is best, right? Because telling people what they want to hear--ugh, no.

Very slowly, she says, "I don't know Delta, and I never met your sister. I don't know any of your friends. And this sounds... it sounds really painful. But if Delta's as honest as you say, if you ask him for just the facts, just what he saw himself, then that's it, right? You can't argue with facts. They don't go away." This is a struggle. She doesn't like this at all. "But maybe there's something he just doesn't know?"

North's gaze stays downcast. "He was in her head. He saw it all. He even knew what she was thinking." If only this whole thing hadn't come out during an argument. The blow might have been lessened. Somehow.

That's... pretty inescapable.

Wrath squeezes his hand as bit more tightly. "Oh, North. I'm so sorry."

Because this doesn't even need to be spoken out loud. He already knows the truth; he's just had his plausible denials stripped away. She knows this feeling of thin denial replaced by the inexorable grind of truth. It's crushing and inescapable. (It's something she experiences over and over again, every time she goes through compliance.)

He can't answer; he's busy shuddering his way through the terrible feeling that is crashing through him, his eyes closed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. His sister could be selfish and ambitious and they'd always had their differences, but this...

She'd led the Meta to their doorstep and allowed him to be killed. Even if his dying hadn't been part of the plan, she'd still used him as bait. And that...

No, that's the part he can't handle.

He doesn't know how long he stands there but he's insensible for a time, barely registering that she's still holding his hand. Eventually he begins to catch his breath and he opens his eyes in a mental fog. He's not crying, he didn't cry, but he almost looks as if he had. Maybe he needs to at some point but this is too fresh to simply break down over.

There isn't a lot she can do, and it hurts in its own way. It's a horrible, even more helpless feeling, really. Because she likes North, and he's important to her, and she can't do anything at all. It's not fair.

Well, nothing ever is.

Unable to do anything else, she focuses on the one point of contact they have: hands. She loosens her grip enough to stroke his knuckles. It's kind of awkward, position-wise, but she does her best.

He looks terrible when he opens his eyes, like someone just died, and she supposes that's not far off. It hurts to look at him, almost. Wrath squeezes his hand. "Hey. It's not okay, I know it's not. I'm really sorry. But I'm here." That's about all she can even say.

He nods tightly. "Thank you," he mutters. The only person he's ever leaned on in the past is his sister. And she betrayed him. And he doesn't know how to handle it.

He moves his gaze to Wrath and notices what she's been doing, stroking his hand. "Don't twist your wrist," he admonishes, not for the first time, and moves his hand to take hers at a better angle. Being the caretaker, that's something he can handle. That's what he was made for, practically.

She offers him a little smile. "Worth it." Of course he's worth a little awkwardness and discomfort. More than worth it. She strokes his thumb slowly with hers. "Zen hugs, North."

Fuck, she hates being stuck like this. It's so much helplessness. Her smile goes wry. "Throw some zen hair petting in there too. You look like you could use it."

That remark manages to wring a ghost of a smile out of him. "I accept," he says. He can just picture it, too, leaning against her shoulder as she strokes his head.

Now is the worst possible moment to think about her conversation with Tex, particularly the bit that involved dragging North off somewhere by the hair. So of course that's what she thinks about. Oh goddammit, Tex. Not the mental place to go when this poor guy just got horrible news and they're just friends, dammit, she's enjoying just having a friend to begin with and not worrying about all the other stuff until she can do more than wiggle her fingers.

She squeezes his hand, and of all annoying things, actually blushes. When did she start blushing about stuff? She never blushed about anything on that spectrum before. Well, the problem is that she likes North a lot and really doesn't want to screw this up. Fuck.

(Or not fuck as the case may be shit shit shit, this is super inappropriate, Wrath, stop it!)

She does her best to pretend that everything is just fine and maybe he won't notice or will be polite enough to pretend he doesn't. "Good. I'll add it to my to-do list for when I'm out of traction. I already owe you like four hugs, plus interest."

He sniffs a little and rubs his face before his demeanor seems to relax. Teasing with her is nice; it's the highlight of his days now since they've started. "I wasn't going to charge interest, but now that you bring it up..."

Oh thank god. She can roll with this. "Hey, what? No! No, that's not fair. That needed to be... uh... Negotiated beforehand. Yeah!" She grins, tugging on his hand. "Maybe I just said a dumb thing because I'm weak with hunger."

There is still that danish. And it makes for an awesome distraction, right?

"It was your idea." His smiles are still gentler than they would be normally but the words are just as mischievous. "One extra hug for every time you twist your wrist, you fiend. Don't do that, you'll mess up your arm."

"What? No! No that's not fair!" Though she's laughing through her protests.

If you really want her to hold still, North, this is probably not the way to do it.

"Does there need to be a scoreboard now? How many hugs does Wrath owe North?"

"There's a page for notes in the medical records on the datapad," he teases. "I'll just fill it with tally marks."

"That's really not fair! What if you cheat?" Not that she thinks for one second that he would. It's just part of the teasing.

It's good to laugh, really. They both need it.

He grins. "If I cheat?"

Theatrical gasp. "You jerk!"

Probably would be more convincing if she wasn't still holding his hand and stroking his fingers with her thumb.

"I know, it's so unfair. I guess it's just a burden you'll have to bear since it'd be too hard to prove something in a court of law."

"Maybe I know vicious, trained attack lawyers. With machetes."

Yep just made that up on the spot. She sticks her tongue out at him.

"Lucky for me I have a two-handed sword." He glances over at the tray table. "How's breakfast sound now, hm? Still want the juice first?"

"Makes you slow," she taunts.

Speed has always been her advantage.

She considers her stomach, how things are. She has more distance from her own fright. "I think actually... I think I can manage real food now. There's been enough time."

"I'm only slow because I need practice," he says, not bothering to deny it. He was an expert in sniping, not melee.

He nods and turns to grasp the danish with the wax paper that's in the sack and brings it over to her. "I don't have a spoon to feed you with, so we'll have to be more careful about the crumbs." He cups his other hand under her chin and holds the danish up for her to take a bite.

"Eating a danish with a spoon would be weird anyway." It just... Would be. Like eating cookies with a spoon. "I won't tell who did it if there are crumbs."

She still has no idea what the real concern is, there. Gloriously clueless.

She does her best not to make a mess anyway. For what it's worth, considering danishes tends to be petty flaky. Good thing North has big hands. Though there's something decidedly odd about having his hand right there. Odd, but also a little nice.

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action

Day 152 | Morning | Action