It was important because he needed to understand what she meant, if she hadn't meant to stay behind, to stay away from him. He swallowed hard before responding, and because he waited she did explain, and he shook his head in vehement negation. "Gods, that's not... It's half of it, yes. But it's not all of it. Yes, I want to protect you - all of you who come with me. And I want to keep us all out of trouble. But I'm counting on you to protect me, too. To watch my back. I'm not good on my own, Amalia. I'm used to protecting others, but not so much myself. I'm..." Too willing to take a blow, to think that he deserved it because of what he had done in the past. Safrin had seen the hypocrisy in his actions, and Ludo had warned him about it, though far more gently. He curled his arm more tightly around his knee, giving a sharp shake of his head at the memories. "I don't take care of myself as I should," he admitted reluctantly. Letting the words take shape for the first time. "But I'm better about it, if people close to me are there. If they need me to... it's easier to remember." He had already said he was going back down there again, had assumed they were going together, the four of them, but would she go with him when he did? After this? Or would she go on her own, with Deimos and Kiada, who wouldn't question her? Wouldn't criticize her choices they way they did his?
The leopard's fur and tail and claws were out, all signs that spoke even louder of her unhappiness than scowls and sharp words. He wanted to reach out and give her comfort, to reassure her that it would be alright. But how could he, when he was the cause of her pain? When she pulled away from his touch and stood like stone in his arms? So he stayed where he was, feeling the expanding ache in his chest and wondering how many times a heart could break for its mistakes.
She lashed him with pent-up frustrations that went back months and seasons, anger that he thought she had already spilled out, but that had continued to simmer when he had thought they had moved on. How wrong he had been, and his jaw tightened as the list grew. So many, many things had happened, but she glossed over so much, too. "I ran because I was hurting. Not just from you, but everyone. What you just said - 'we' - is why I ran. It wasn't one person, it was most of the people I loved and trusted to have my back telling me how badly I'd screwed up all at once, as a group, then demanding that I continue to be their scapegoat. No, not everyone was that harsh about it - you weren't, Bastien wasn't - but there was no 'us' versus 'them' that night. It was one versus many. So yes, when I finally left that basement after everyone else was gone I was hurting and feeling more alone than I had since I arrived here. And then I got sick. I wasn't hiding from you deliberately. I would have stayed with Rory if I'd been remotely lucid. But I wasn't. I was feverish and lost and the gods might know what I did that week but I still don't, except that something I did while I was stumbling around feral was enough to infect me with the blight. And then when I finally did understand what was happening to me? Why I was shaking and angry and cold and hopeless? I came to find you. I came to apologize, and to tell you that I wasn't okay." But it hadn't been enough. Not if this was the result. Not if even after apologies and forgivenesses there was still this much pain in her heart towards him.
His hand had clenched while he had been talking, fingernails digging into his palm and leaving deep crescents as he forced it to relax. His shaking breath was a match for hers. "I'm not the only one who's hidden, though. You hide your pain and your anger behind sweet smiles and laughing eyes no less than I do. I don't know when I've hurt you because you're too afraid of hurting me to tell me. I can understand that... I've let you see how broken I am. How fragile. You know me. But if you can't be honest with me I..." He trailed off, suppressing the shiver that ran down his spine as he caught his breath.
"What am I to you, Ama?" he asked softly, hearing the 'I don't know' echoing like a pit without a bottom. If he looked at it too closely it would swallow him. "What are you saying? If you can't believe me, if I cause you pain and make you feel small... but you can't tell me what it is I do or say to do that to you... how can I change? How can I be what you need me to be?"
He thought he knew the answer but, gods, he was so afraid of hearing it.
The leopard's fur and tail and claws were out, all signs that spoke even louder of her unhappiness than scowls and sharp words. He wanted to reach out and give her comfort, to reassure her that it would be alright. But how could he, when he was the cause of her pain? When she pulled away from his touch and stood like stone in his arms? So he stayed where he was, feeling the expanding ache in his chest and wondering how many times a heart could break for its mistakes.
She lashed him with pent-up frustrations that went back months and seasons, anger that he thought she had already spilled out, but that had continued to simmer when he had thought they had moved on. How wrong he had been, and his jaw tightened as the list grew. So many, many things had happened, but she glossed over so much, too. "I ran because I was hurting. Not just from you, but everyone. What you just said - 'we' - is why I ran. It wasn't one person, it was most of the people I loved and trusted to have my back telling me how badly I'd screwed up all at once, as a group, then demanding that I continue to be their scapegoat. No, not everyone was that harsh about it - you weren't, Bastien wasn't - but there was no 'us' versus 'them' that night. It was one versus many. So yes, when I finally left that basement after everyone else was gone I was hurting and feeling more alone than I had since I arrived here. And then I got sick. I wasn't hiding from you deliberately. I would have stayed with Rory if I'd been remotely lucid. But I wasn't. I was feverish and lost and the gods might know what I did that week but I still don't, except that something I did while I was stumbling around feral was enough to infect me with the blight. And then when I finally did understand what was happening to me? Why I was shaking and angry and cold and hopeless? I came to find you. I came to apologize, and to tell you that I wasn't okay." But it hadn't been enough. Not if this was the result. Not if even after apologies and forgivenesses there was still this much pain in her heart towards him.
His hand had clenched while he had been talking, fingernails digging into his palm and leaving deep crescents as he forced it to relax. His shaking breath was a match for hers. "I'm not the only one who's hidden, though. You hide your pain and your anger behind sweet smiles and laughing eyes no less than I do. I don't know when I've hurt you because you're too afraid of hurting me to tell me. I can understand that... I've let you see how broken I am. How fragile. You know me. But if you can't be honest with me I..." He trailed off, suppressing the shiver that ran down his spine as he caught his breath.
"What am I to you, Ama?" he asked softly, hearing the 'I don't know' echoing like a pit without a bottom. If he looked at it too closely it would swallow him. "What are you saying? If you can't believe me, if I cause you pain and make you feel small... but you can't tell me what it is I do or say to do that to you... how can I change? How can I be what you need me to be?"
He thought he knew the answer but, gods, he was so afraid of hearing it.
