[His lips twitched at her outburst, but they twisted once she began down the path that he had long ago wished to never relive. He had shed the last holds of that relationship (or he deluded himself in that) when Vander had died outside the cannery, body morphed and twisted with Shimmer. He'd won. He'd proven his point; the monster was always still in there and only required the right motivation, though it was unfortunate the children had died.
However, Vander was no his family. Jinx was his family, the only family he needed now. The other man had lost that right that day at the river, though he shivered where he sat as he remembered sitting at the statue without anywhere else to go. Who else was there to talk to but the ghost of the past on the realization that they had been the same? He didn't want to acknowledge it even here; they were brothers, had been for a long time.
Yet, his eyes sharply turned to Jinx, and he inhaled audibly when she apologized on Vander's behalf.] Don't... [The word emerged before he could lock his jaw around it. The only person that still lived and breathed that could not be faulted for this intent was Jinx, but it ripped open old badly healed scars.
She didn't know. She thought she knew, but she didn't understand the full impact of that day. Oh, he ranted and raved, spat and cursed, pretended he had made himself whole again, but the history leading up to that point was complicated and twisted. He had never reflected well on it all, the good memories experienced like a hot poker to the guts and best to be avoided. Felicia... she had deserved better, deserved to not have died that day in the way that she had. Vander taking her death hard was a fucking understatement.
And after it all, Vander had settled in, erasing every part that he had once played. He resented that the kids were the most important aspect of his life, a memory of her, a memory of that day coveted and protected while he rotted in the mines fighting to survival, fighting to save his vision in the left eye regardless of the necessary sacrifices. Building from nothing alone and realizing it was better that way, that there would never be a time and place where they would meet and see eye-to-eye again.
For him to rise, Vander had to fall. He had and hadn't enjoyed it.
Forgiveness? No, that wasn't possible. Those wounds would never heal, and she was ripping them open, unearthing all the old hurts, especially with the knowledge that Vander survived. He had died and Vander lived on like a fucking cockroach. Why hadn't the Doctor saved him? Why Vander?
His expression had gone from tight to lax, his breathing rapid and harsh to his own ears. He pulled his hand away, unaware he dropped the brush to clatter on the floor. He wanted to be angry, to scream, to throw something, but he felt a deep well of dark emptiness that filled with old bitterness. She's sorry for what he did to him? She didn't know the half of it, the little details, the person he had been before that day.
A weak man had to die. A man who relied on anyone with his heart. And then he had... with her. And he died for it. He would sacrifice everything for, but never again for....
Suddenly he rose to his feet, pushing his hand through his hair several times, leaving it a touch wild-looking. He swallowed hard and turned away.] I need... a comb. [He had a comb.] No, a drink. I need a drink. Stay here and be warm.
[He walked out hurriedly, nearly tripping on his own feet in his haste to escape the narrowing walls of the bathroom. He made it to the kitchen and promptly vomited. Vander couldn't be here.]
action; cw: ptsd
However, Vander was no his family. Jinx was his family, the only family he needed now. The other man had lost that right that day at the river, though he shivered where he sat as he remembered sitting at the statue without anywhere else to go. Who else was there to talk to but the ghost of the past on the realization that they had been the same? He didn't want to acknowledge it even here; they were brothers, had been for a long time.
Yet, his eyes sharply turned to Jinx, and he inhaled audibly when she apologized on Vander's behalf.] Don't... [The word emerged before he could lock his jaw around it. The only person that still lived and breathed that could not be faulted for this intent was Jinx, but it ripped open old badly healed scars.
She didn't know. She thought she knew, but she didn't understand the full impact of that day. Oh, he ranted and raved, spat and cursed, pretended he had made himself whole again, but the history leading up to that point was complicated and twisted. He had never reflected well on it all, the good memories experienced like a hot poker to the guts and best to be avoided. Felicia... she had deserved better, deserved to not have died that day in the way that she had. Vander taking her death hard was a fucking understatement.
And after it all, Vander had settled in, erasing every part that he had once played. He resented that the kids were the most important aspect of his life, a memory of her, a memory of that day coveted and protected while he rotted in the mines fighting to survival, fighting to save his vision in the left eye regardless of the necessary sacrifices. Building from nothing alone and realizing it was better that way, that there would never be a time and place where they would meet and see eye-to-eye again.
For him to rise, Vander had to fall. He had and hadn't enjoyed it.
Forgiveness? No, that wasn't possible. Those wounds would never heal, and she was ripping them open, unearthing all the old hurts, especially with the knowledge that Vander survived. He had died and Vander lived on like a fucking cockroach. Why hadn't the Doctor saved him? Why Vander?
His expression had gone from tight to lax, his breathing rapid and harsh to his own ears. He pulled his hand away, unaware he dropped the brush to clatter on the floor. He wanted to be angry, to scream, to throw something, but he felt a deep well of dark emptiness that filled with old bitterness. She's sorry for what he did to him? She didn't know the half of it, the little details, the person he had been before that day.
A weak man had to die. A man who relied on anyone with his heart. And then he had... with her. And he died for it. He would sacrifice everything for, but never again for....
Suddenly he rose to his feet, pushing his hand through his hair several times, leaving it a touch wild-looking. He swallowed hard and turned away.] I need... a comb. [He had a comb.] No, a drink. I need a drink. Stay here and be warm.
[He walked out hurriedly, nearly tripping on his own feet in his haste to escape the narrowing walls of the bathroom. He made it to the kitchen and promptly vomited. Vander couldn't be here.]