You gotta help me out; it's all a blur last night...

[itwas-raining.livejournal.com]

Who: itwas_raining and gwaine
What: The castle is a troll. So, there was a loss, and Julia and Gwaine totally thought they were together, right? Here is the aftermath.
When: Backdated to the morning of the end of the Friends loss
Where: Awkwardville. Population: 2.
Rating: I'll just call it PG-13 or something


For all intents and purposes, this was a completely normal morning.

As Julia quietly stirred awake, there was nothing to suggest that anything might be amiss. In fact, it hit her that she was quite comfortable in this bed this morning. Warm and comfortable. Maybe she wasn't ordinarily the type to make a habit out of sleeping in, but what would another twenty minutes hurt, just this once? It wasn't like she had any pressing engagements to get to that she knew of.

She shifted slightly, and was about to doze right back off, when.... she felt something at that moment. Something that was distinctly not bedsheets, that her still half-asleep brain wasn't fully processing at the moment yet somehow knew shouldn't be there. Was that... someone's arm?

She froze.

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[itwas-raining.livejournal.com]

In a way, coming to Paradisa might have been her chance at a fresh start. A chance to let go of the ghosts of the past that constantly followed her around and haunted her every waking thought, even still. To break free of that toxic cycle of betrayal and avoidance, of lies and secrets, that had chronicled almost her entire life. To make things right this time.

But she blew it. Again.

No matter what, she only seemed to drag other people down with her. She'd dragged Spike, the one person she never wanted to hurt, into the most spectacular mess imaginable (and disappeared from his life for three years without so much as even a goodbye, much less an explanation), only to turn right around and do it again. She'd even dragged Vicious with her when all she'd wanted was a high, something to take her out of her mundane, going-through-the-motions existence and feel alive, even for half a second. And now she'd dragged Gwaine.

What the hell did that make her?

Someone who didn't deserve to break free of the traps she set for herself without thinking time and time again, that's what. The worst kind of person. No, she felt she deserved every last bit of what she got. The sting, the constant dull ache in her chest wouldn't even begin to be enough to make up for it.

It's a long time before she even registers that he'd said anything. So long one might wonder if she'd even heard him at all. But there's evidence to the contrary when a barely audible, almost broken half-whisper ventures into the silence once again.

"It wasn't your fault."

[gwaine.livejournal.com]

The softness of it is what makes him finally turn to face her. He has little to go on to gauge her mood. He knows she is upset, but he cannot read her easily. She is not like him. He tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, and damn what anyone thinks. He has not had much need to mask his mood. Nevertheless, he needs to make her understand that she is blameless in this. She can hate him and never wish to see him and he will respect that; he cannot stand that too quiet voice.

"It's not yours either. Julia—" Using the sheet, he covers himself as well as he is able so he can stand. "This was not your fault. If you need to blame someone, blame me. You—we were separated when this began. I pushed for it. I should not have. I should have respected the decision you made before. I apologize for my actions, though they were not my own. They were unseemly."

[itwas-raining.livejournal.com]

She can't take the scrutiny. It feels like it's practically burning a hole into her, worsening the intensity of the jumbled mess going through her mind that much more, creating something she couldn't put a name to if she tried. When it comes down to it, she doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know what to feel.

There's only one thing about this whole situation that's certain. No matter how hard he tries, there's nothing he can do to convince her that this wasn't her fault. She's damned to her core, beyond repair. As time goes on, she only seems to get clearer and clearer confirmation of that.

She turns just slightly, so that her back is to him (her last-ditch attempt at making something about this easier for herself). Maybe she'd been trying to make some attempt at following suit and standing up as well, but that's as far as she gets for the moment.

"You don't have to apologize." When she finally responds, she's still speaking in simple sentences, in only half-responses. Her voice may be even quieter this time. She's barely holding it together, and that also only seems to be getting clearer and clearer.