What's Right Isn't Always Easy

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Honestly, he felt like an idiot for not seeing what was coming. The Voice was many things, but entirely virtuous was not one of them and he knew that. He'd felt it in his chest when he'd asked her for his freedom and he'd seen it in her eyes when the words left his mouth, but he'd still gone ahead with it anyway. Stupid.

Sam stumbled up the beach, struggling to see properly through the tears in his eyes and finding there was something in his throat, almost clogging it...a feeling he had almost forgotten, that snatching of his breath so he couldn't speak. Just to make the whole thing even worse, there were images flooding his mind, things that had once been stolen away suddenly restored in one push, heart-wrenching memories of Remi happy with him, what he had once lost.

Loss, so much loss.

When he finally got back to Zeph's house and crashed through the door, a marked difference to the quiet sneaking out of only an hour before, he didn't have the energy in him to hide his sorrow. Reaching for a chair on the kitchen table he collapsed onto it and began to sob, leaning on the table, unsure of how he felt about anything except that he had done something very, very impulsive and potentially ruining indeed.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

You almost don't notice when he returns these days, the comings and goings of another human strangely familiar, given how brief it's been. Though the sound of the door crashing open sits somewhere outside that expected range, causing you to sit up abruptly, your book falling on your chest and your eyes going wide. He's usually so quiet the door opening just so, the echo of his footsteps almost imperceptible, his paces causing the floor to creak predictably.

The sounds you hear now? These sounds are wrong.

Before you know it you're on your feet, creeping toward the stairs. There's a rock clenched in one hand, just in case, and you curse Ki's absence from the house. Is it a burglar, some idiot child thinking your house would make a good mark? A drunk, staggering in from the beach? Wouldn't be the first time, but it'd take Red by surprise, you're sure. You'd rather he not have to see the harsher parts of Torchline yet, rather he stay cheerful, rather he-

-rather he not be sitting at your kitchen table, sobbing.

"Red?" You're halfway down the staircase, the rock still in your hand. In your mind an image flashes: El sitting in that same spot five years before, her head in her arms, the sobs shaking her body. It had been the last night they really spoke, and you've relived it so many times you can't count. What if you'd said something different, or nothing at all? If you'd been better then, stronger, would she still be here? How had you fucked it all up so badly?

You should leave, you know, let Sam go through whatever he's going through, before you fuck things up again.

But you can't do that, because under all that stoicism you're a fucking bleeding heart, aren't you, Zeph?

The rock is on the steps, and you're at the bottom of them, and then you're kneeling on the floor in front of the distraught man. "Red?" Your hand hovers over his knee, hesitating a moment, not sure what to do. "You... what happened? You.. y'okay?"

Obviously he is not. Very smooth indeed.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam didn't hear the first time Zeph called out the nickname (one he'd gotten very used to by now actually), too enveloped in his own world of the wood grain on the table and the sound of his own unneeded breath heaving in and out of his chest. It was only when his host was in front of him that he noticed and immediately Sam felt deep shame and regret; he had wanted to keep this away from his new friend.

Before he spoke he knew what was going to happen, yet it still made him pause in horror. "Z-zz-Ze-Z-" Sam clapped his hands over his mouth and shook his head, embarrassment crawling over him like a thick cloying syrup in addition to anything else. Taking his hands from his mouth, the only thing greater than his shame the desire to explain himself, he tried to continue. "Zeph. I'm s-sorry, I'll b-b-be alright tomorrow. B-better. Tomorrow. I j-just...The Vo-Voice, she took away my..my..." He wordlessly gestured to his whole body, not knowing how to describe the magnitude of what the Goddess had stripped from him.

"I l-left her." He gathered his hands into fists on his legs, growing more frustrated with his inability to speak clearly by the second. "She t-took my upgrades. Thi...This is how I u-used to speak. Before." Hopefully he'd understand. Everything else Sam had appreciated but could live without, but this? It had been so freeing, so significant. It had taken away what he'd felt was the last barrier of his isolation and anxiety, had let him meet new people and come out into the world. With his voice taken from him all he wanted to do was to run back to the shadows again to cower and hide.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

The way he struggles to say your name, the way he grabs his mouth- it sets a fracture in your heart, makes you ache for whatever it is that's tearing him up. You assume the stuttering is just a side effect of the sobs, but even so it's hard to hear; without thinking your hands shoot up, hoping to grab his and gently ease them from his lips. "Hey, s'okay, take your time." Your voice is as low and quiet as the one you might have used on a wounded animal - or on Rayne, when he was having a bad day.

The whole... thing... he says makes very little sense to you. His voice is gone? Well, yes, but that'll get better once he calms down. I left her? Who? Your head is spinning, but you know your confusion is secondary to getting Sam back to a reasonable point, where he can start making sense. "Slow down, Sam- take a breath. It's gonna be okay." From where you squat down on the ground, you attempt to smile reassuringly, but there's concern in your eyes.

Still not really sure what to do with your hands, you settle on placing them back on your own knees. "Ok... who hurt you?" I'll fuck them up is not said aloud, though the thought flashes through your mind in a flush of red-hot protectiveness. "'m sure we can get back whatever she took. Jus' take a breath an' tell me again." In your mind you're already thinking about who to go to, what team you would assemble to dish out some good old fashioned Torchline justice on whoever fucked with your houseguest.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Thankfully Zeph was a kind man and Sam, as much as the darker part of his mind wanted to tell him it ought to make him more embarrassed, took some comfort in that, letting his hands be gently taken and trying to calm down for the other man's sake, even if he knew that they were not going to be able to get any of it back. Here he was again, dragging another good man into his mess.

Tears still streaming down his cheeks but voice a little steadier, chest less heaving, he tried again. "It's...n-not going to be okay." He started with, having to squeeze his eyes tight shut after that to stop the panic that wanted to come. "The Voice. The G-g-g-goddess that the Ascen..Ascended follow. I left her. I t-told her I wanted to be on my own." Sam wasn't sure if Zeph would understand the significance of this, but all he could do was look the man in the eyes as he said it and try to make his voice as earnest as possible.

"She..she took...she f-f-ffff--" Frustration taking over again he reached up to pull hard at his hair, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Fixed my voice, ye-years ago, but she t-took the fix away. She...she took all my up-upgrades too. I c-can't...can't smell or t-taste or feel or--" Shaking his head, Sam looked down at the ground, not knowing how to explain it all to someone who had not seen him as he had once been. "She's m-made me worthless t-to her, and to me...and t-..t-t-to everyone else."

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

Oh.

Oh.

"You left... a goddess?"

So... what do you tell someone who just abandoned the god who controls their entire life, including their ability to eat? Big oof, man? Good on ya, breaking those shackles? What the fuck were you thinking? You, Zephyr Kawaianu, least reverent person this side of Halo, have absolutely no fucking idea what the appropriate response to Sam's revelation is. But you're probably sure it isn't what you wind up saying:

"So... prolly not the best idea t'go beat her up for ya, then."

But what else are you supposed to do? You can feel anger rising within you, that similar swell of incredulity and disappointment with a higher power that you felt those years ago. You turned your back on the gods when they turned their backs on you, let the thing most precious in this world - an innocent life, a good life, your son's life - slip away because he was different. Abandoned- not by any sin of his own, but because the gods made him so for reasons you would never understand or forgive.

And now it seems the so-called new gods are no better than the old. Because whatever the reason, that's what Sam is now: abandoned, for having committed a cardinal sin of independent thought.

Your fists clench, rage rushing through you, coiling your muscles into springs. Before you can think your hands rise up again, one snaking up to grab Sam's chin, the other grasping for his fingers. "Hey- you are not worthless," you snap, brown eyes glittering with unshed tears. Releasing your vice-grip on his chin, you adjust your hand so it's cupping his cheek, still forcing his face up toward yours. You don't want to hurt him; it hasn't occurred to you that he cannot, physically, be hurt. "Y'hear me? So you fuckin' stop that nonsense. Yer good an' sweet an' kind an' clever, an' I don' need any fuckin' goddess t'tell me any'a that."

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Zeph's question sounded like he was beginning to understand the seriousness of the situation; Sam nodded. Given who he'd been only a year ago, this felt like a nightmare, hearing what he had done spoken back to him. Though when Zeph then made a joke he found himself letting out a laugh, hysterical and high-pitched among his sobbing breaths but still there, Sam surprised he found it funny. "Please d-don't."

Like he had before, Zeph went to hold Sam's chin. Now a little accustomed to the touch Sam didn't flinch this time, just pressed his lips together as he tried to take in what the man said...it was hard, when he was so vulnerable right now to the screaming voices in his mind, the ones that insisted he was nothing but dirt, deserved to be crushed under the Voice's heel for what he had done. That Zeph thought anything else, that he had specific words like 'kind' and 'clever'...Sam blinked as fat tears rolled down his face, the sadness within momentarily replaced with surprise and a flicker of affection.

He was quiet for a moment after that, slowly trying to balance himself. His eyes were still wet when he'd done but he was at least beginning to adopt his usual breathless silence again, fingers curling into fists and back again on his leg and his other hand gripping hard onto Zephs. "...I d-don't know what I'm going to d-d-do. The Voice d-didn't kill me, but Wessex will. The Old G-g-Gods won't want me either and I won't be able to hee-help the Grounders either. I c-can't go out in the sun anymore." Perhaps that was a little dramatic, but he was on a downwards spiral and every possible wrong outcome was swirling up into his mind.

"I'm sorry. You d-don't know me well enough to have to deal with th..this." He let out a little huff of unamused laughter and shook his head. "You are ve-very kind. But you don't have...have to stay."

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

You hold your hand there a moment longer as he finally falls silent, seemingly soothed. Without any real idea of what you should be doing, all you can do is offer that touch, because it seems to be helping and you feel so helpless-

(- Ella, c'mon, we'll get through this, we gotta -)

Red's hand is clenching, and you remember him pulling on his hair, hurting himself, so you release his cheek to snatch his fingers, pressing both hands between your large, rough palms. There's so much of what he's said and what he's saying that you don't understand (Why is Wessex going to hurt him? How did a god take away his ability to speak? What can you possibly do, to make it even a little better?) but you've learned that asking too many questions can lead to dark places, especially in times like these.

( Why can't you just talk to me, El, and we'll get through this? Do you think I don't miss him, too? That it isn't killing me inside? Do you think I'm so fucking heartless, that I don't miss him too- )

You swallow down the memories that rise like a flash flood. You'd fucked things up then, again and again, too lost in your own misery to see that your wife coped differently than you, that she needed something you didn't know how to give. And when Sam gives you an out, you almost fucking take it- because he's right, you don't know him that well, and as bad as he feels he deserves someone with their own shit together right now, not sad-sack widower who can't crack a smile you.

( Why won't ya look at me? We can get through this, but you gotta at give me somethin' t'work with, El, at least look at me-- )

You could leave, just like you did before, when you were lost and things were hard and you were too fucking weak to carry her burden and you should have, could have, stayed.

( Fine, El. If you think I'm so fuckin' awful I'll leave. 's not like we're gettin' anywhere. Y'can have the whole damn house t'yerself, it it'll make ya happy - 's obvious I'm just a fuckin' thorn in yer side, these days, that y'stopped wantin' me when Ray------- )

"D'ya want me t'go?" Your voice is rough and gentle, uncertain as you peer up into his face. "If y'wanna be alone, tell me an' I'll go- otherwise I'm stayin'. Yer in my house, after all." The last comment is made with a little forced humor, a dismal attempt to lighten the mood, set him somewhat at ease. "Y'don't gotta talk if y'don't wanna. But y'don't gotta be alone, either."

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam watched as his hands were taken into Zeph's, the warmth of the man's palms comforting but painful at the same time as he knew the feeling was so much less than it could be. Numbed, like he was in a dream. That had been how he'd experienced the whole world once, but now he'd grown used to the luxuries Remi had given him and without them it felt like he was in some kind of trance, out of his body and watching from a distant place.

Completely unawares of the memories in Zeph's mind, he waited to see if the man would take his offer and go back upstairs, pretend none of this was happening: it wasn't like he could blame him if he did. When the choice was turned back on him with the simple but powerful words 'you don't have to be alone', he let out a gasp of a half-cry and smiled, clearly affected by Zeph's kindness. "...Thank you. Um...I w-wo-would like it, if you could stay. I'll..tr-try to cry less. Um. I just..some company might be ni-nice. I'm...I'm probably n-not going to be okay for a while, though."

It was Zeph's house, but he felt like he had to make up for his breakdown anyway, do something to beg forgiveness for daring to show his broken side. Taking his hands back he slowly stood up, ambling to the stove and reaching for the kettle, the jittering sound of it clacking on the hob as his hands shook too loud in the room. "..I...um..I..I'll ma-make a cup of t..tea. It's the le...least I could d-do."

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

I'm probably not going to be okay for a while.

What would have happened, you wonder then, if El had just said that? If either of you had - I'm not okay, and I won't be for a while, and there's nothing you can do but be there? Neither of you had known how to ask for what you needed- which, ironically, tragically, was just each other.

Does Sam need you? Probably not - nobody needs you - but he needs someone. Deserves that much, and it's all you can do right now, nodding when he says he won't be okay (and who are you to blame him? You haven't been okay for a while now).

Though when he takes his hand away and stands you're left a bit bemused, blinking and watching him walk away to make tea, of all things. "Uh... okay." With your hands empty and the seat he'd occupied empty you suddenly feel very much lost, bewildered by this turn of events where he knows what to do better than you do. You hadn't even owned tea, until he came to stay.

The sensation of uselessness is creeping in again, that same insidious poison that led to you fucking up everything with El. Quick, man, do something. "Do... d'ya want me to get someone? Or anythin'? Or help?" You haven't moved from where he left you except of course to stand, scared to take a step in the wrong direction and break this tentative peace.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam took a moment to try and center himself before he put down the kettle, managing to place it on the stove with some certainty now, and went to get out the cups. There was something bizarre in the mundane nature of it all but comforting too, a familiarity he needed even if the tea would taste half as strong once it got in his mouth.

"There i-isn't anything you can d..do. I'm going t-t-to write a lett-tter to my sister, I think." As much as a large part of him never wanted to admit to Amalia what had just happened, knowing she had a right to be smug and could well be...she was probably one of the best people to advise him on the next steps to take. But that was a plan for tomorrow and right now, Zeph was there with him, being so sweet and caring.

Pouring the tea and putting a cup on the table for Zeph before getting his own, he tried to force a wobbly smile. "What you c-could do is just talk to me, for as..as long as this tea lasts. I know..you need t-to sleep, so I won't keep you up all night." Sam assured Zeph, staring down into his own tea and blowing on it even though the heat wouldn't matter. "..Can you t-tell me..something about...hm. When d-did you move into this house? How did you choose it?" More than anything he just wanted someone else to be talking, someone else to help him drive his mind away from the various doom scenarios it wanted to land on.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

You continue to stand there awkwardly, resisting the desire to run only through a great deal of mental fortitude. Nobody else to get, no rescue to be found- it's just you here to hold back the tides of the disaster that has overcome Sam's life. Might as well sit down.

"Yer sister? The one who's a bitch?" As soon as the words leave your lips you cringe, realizing how it sounds. "I mean- 'course. If you need paper or anythin'..." Once again you trail off, because of course he has fucking paper, and you need to just stop.

You look at the tea with a great deal more surprise than you really should feel, but it's been a long time since anyone did something like this for you, and you're still a bit bewildered by the whole I'm-emotionally-falling-apart-but-first,-beverages thing. Not that you mind, of course, wasting no time in raising the cup to your lips and promptly burning your tongue. "Fuck! Hot."

You're focused on cooling your tea when he sits, and you really don't expect his question. It makes you startle, the tea sloshing out of your cup and onto your finger, which you promptly stick in your mouth. "'Mmm... stole it." And you would like to leave it at that, because you know where this road is going to lead and it's not somewhere you like to travel... but Mort's tears, if he doesn't look so perfectly helpless. If talking about things you'd rather forget will make him smile, well, it's a cost you're willing to pay.

You remove your finger from your mouth, staring into your cup. "Place was abandoned when we moved in. It'd been thrashed in a monsoon, weren't fit for a turtle, but El... Ella, she fell in love with it. Said she could see a whole future in the old wood." Your gaze is absent, bittersweet and far-away, but there's fondness in your voice, a melancholic smile pulling at your lips.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam couldn't help it: at Zeph's quick judgement of Amalia, despite everything, he laughed, the sound oddly loud and harsh compared to his earlier sobs. The smile on his face didn't last long, but it was still a momentary bit of amusement, which was appreciated. "Its c-complicated. I think she t..tr..tries her best." Not that he didn't think she was a bitch about the Gods sometimes, but he was sure she'd say much the same about him.

Sipping his tea right away as the heat didn't matter, Sam waited to see if Zeph would humour his request. It seemed he decided to and the Ascended gave out a little breath of relief, trying his best to listen to Zeph and forget his own panic for a moment.

As it turned out, it was easier to lose himself in it than he had thought, partially because of Zeph's choice of poetic words, but also because of the introduction of 'El'. "Ella...? Who's that-at? ...Another lizard?" After all, 'Ki' had turned out to be much different from the woman he'd first imagined.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

Ella a lizard. The idea is enough to make you laugh, a bright, booming sound that briefly fills the empty house with light. Once upon a time this house was lousy with laughter; you could hear it echoing in the walls, feel it in the wood beneath your feet. Once upon a time this place was beautiful and warm.

The laughter - the warmth - fades away quickly, suffocated by sorrow, but the ghost of a smile remains. "Nah, not a lizard. El was... was my wife. She died." The smile vanishes, and on your face it's clear: you don't want to talk about it.

Your almond eyes fall shut a moment, pressing back the memories, the light. You don't talk about El very often, which is perhaps a selfish thing- she deserves to be remembered. To be celebrated. You're just too weak to be the one to do it.

But for him? Maybe you can be strong. The silence stretches a moment longer, and you take a shuddering breath. "Anyway. We moved in. Slept on the floor down here for weeks, an' would wake up with crabs in our hair. The roof fell in on the second week. A storm hit the third and tore down a wall. Felt fuckin' impossible, an' then one day... It was done."

It had felt so incredible, standing in their finished home, your arm around your young wife's waist, her head on your shoulder. You were twenty years old, and you felt fucking invincible.

It's fourteen years later, and you just feel tired.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart