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Post by Sam O'Connor on Feb 3, 2011 18:09:45 GMT -5
Sam hated this. Ever since Theo and Louise had grabbed him, he hadn't been the same. It didn't help that the ship was in a general state of disarray, what with R4's attack on the ship, and, finally, the disbanding of the group after their leader was taken care of; people were listless, not sure what they were to do next. Sam continued with his job as best he could, but what with the evidence of the torture written all over his face, people were being cautious with him, almost like he might break.
And the truth was, he wasn't sure he wasn't going to break. The smallest thing had him glancing over his shoulder. He rarely made detours anymore, he spent most of his time in the kitchen or in his bedroom, areas which he knew were safe because he'd checked. The pain was making him feel weak, and he could barely look in the mirror anymore; it would bring on flashbacks to what happened, which he didn't need on top of the nightmares. He didn't know what he was supposed to do; he couldn't keep living like this.
It was a week and a half since the incident, quite late on in the evening. Sam had been sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen for over an hour now, his knees pulled up to his chest, the low hum of the washer in the background. He'd been crying, tears sliding silently down his face. This was pathetic, he hated feeling so low, but he just couldn't stop. He'd been through real trauma, and while anyone else on the ship just seemed to bounce back from it, he was wallowing.
And what was worse was that not even seeing Eva helped. Not even after what they told each other in the medical bay. Darcy had come back in not long after Sam's confession, and as soon as she had done what she had needed to do, he'd been out like a light. That night had been his first full of the nightmares, and he'd woken in the early hours of the morning to find that Eva was still there, a deeply guilty and pained look on her face.
He couldn't console her over the guilt, she wouldn't let him, and he couldn't shake the pain or the terror. It was becoming unbearable. Running his hands into his messy hair, he pulled his head forwards against his knees, before letting it fall back against the wall. He had to deal with this, and he couldn't do it here. There was too much here that reminded him of what happened. He needed to get away. He had to.
Wiping his eyes and cheeks with his shaky hands, he got up onto his feet and wandered around the kitchen a few times, allowing the colour to face from his face, then he set off down the corridor, back towards the sleeping quarters. Only this time he wasn't retreating to his room to hide out for the rest of the evening, he was going to talk to someone, sort this out once and for all.
Knocking on Eva's door, he rocked back on his heels, waiting for her to reply. There was only silence on the other side. "Eva?" he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. Leaning his head against the door, he said, "can I talk to you?"
"Please?" |
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Post by Evangeline Irvine on Feb 3, 2011 18:40:39 GMT -5
"Hell" was an interesting term. To some, it was a place where sinners went when they died; to others, it was simply a word used to express surprise or vexation. But to most, it was the definition of a terrible situation or time. This third form of hell was what Eva felt she must be living through. She'd never been good at coping with guilt--it gnawed at her insides and burned in her stomach until she was physically sick with it, and she'd have to vent it somehow. Even then, it lingered until she felt she'd done something to redeem herself.
But this time, there was no redemption, for the person she'd hurt was someone she cared about. Someone she loved. She'd hurt Sam. Put him in danger. Because of her, he wasn't the same. And it was killing her. He'd tried to comfort her, to convince her that she shouldn't blame herself, and though his attempts had been weak, sometimes they'd almost work. But then she'd look up to see the haunted look in his eyes, and her frail recovery attempt would be shattered.
Most of her time over the last week or so had been spent much as she was spending it now, curled up on her bed and staring listlessly at the opposite wall. Staring, but not seeing. As much as she didn't want to, she couldn't help but to replay the horrific event over and over again in her head. Louise hadn't known what she'd gotten into, teaming up with Theo--and now she was dead. But so was he. Oddly enough, killing Theo was the one thing about that day that didn't upset Eva overmuch.
She started at the knock on her door, the sharp sound shaking her from her stupor. She lay there silently, sluggishly reaching out with her mind to figure out who had knocked, though she was fairly sure she already knew. His aura and his voice calling her name confirmed it. Rolling off her bed, she took a moment to make herself presentable--smoothing her rumpled clothing and running her fingers through her hair, as well as wiping a few unconsciously shed tears from her cheeks--before heading over to the door.
"Hey, Sam," she mumbled as the door opened. She then stepped back mutely, allowing him to enter the room. Judging by the waves of tension and emotion rolling off of him, this was a conversation best held in private. |
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Feb 4, 2011 16:57:27 GMT -5
Sam pulled his head away from the door as it opened, rolling it back upright. Eva didn't meet his gaze, and judging by the look on her face, she hadn't been out of the room in while. Her not looking at him right now didn't bother him, he'd rather not have to see the expression that would come with it, not with what he was about to talk about. He entered at her silent instruction, choosing to stay standing, idly walking over to her desk, not making eye contact.
Tracing his fingers over the items littered about the desktop, he tried to think about how he wanted to say what he felt he had to say. It was so hard, so, so hard. He could feel his eyes prickling already, threatening to pick back up where he left of in the kitchen a few minutes ago. "I can't do this," he whispered, his voice getting lost in his effort to keep it steady. Bringing his hand up to meet his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed.
His hand fell away from his face, and he spoke a little more clearly. "I can't do this, Eva," he turned towards her, "I can't stay here. I've tried - tried so hard to keep going, to try and get over the-" his sentence broke off, his finger gesturing to the point on his head where Theo had pressed the gun. As his nail touched the spot, he flinched involuntarily, blinking in order to stop his eyes from stinging.
His Adam's apple dipped and rose again as he swallowed hard. "Being here reminds me of what happened. I can't sleep, I don't like moving about the ship. My face just... people keep staring. I just... I need to... I can't be here." He wrapped his arms around himself, picking at the skin at his elbows absentmindedly. "But, I..." He wanted to leave, just up and leave, but there was one thing holding him back, and that was her. |
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Post by Evangeline Irvine on Feb 11, 2011 0:21:50 GMT -5
Sam had stepped quietly into the room at her invitation, and after closing the door gently, Eva turned around to look at him. He was distraught, that much would have been obvious to anyone, regardless of how well they knew him--what was less noticeable was the fact that he was shaking. It was almost imperceptible, but she could see it, and it was a tell-tale sign that he'd been crying. Her heart panged. It was her fault again, wasn't it? Of course it was. He hadn't come here for something simple; that, too, was obvious. Whatever he had to say, it was big.
For a time he merely examined the items atop her desk, and she stood back and let him. She didn't bother with trying to dig into his mind or attempting to instigate conversation, knowing that he'd get there in his own time, but she didn't just ignore him, either. Rather she waited, perched on the edge of her bed with her arms folded comfortingly across her stomach. It took him several minutes to compose his thoughts.
"I can't do this, Eva."
That was all Sam had really needed to say. Eva knew what he'd meant instantly, and just as instantaneously did she feel a wrench in her chest. He was going to leave; all because of what Theo had done. It didn't matter that this had been his home for months now, or that he had friends here, who cared about him. It didn't even matter that he had her. That last thought stung, and, much to her horror, so did her eyes. She quickly averted her gaze to her lamp in the hopes that the brightness would help her keep the refreshed tears at bay.
When Sam's voice trailed off into silence, she got to her feet and began pacing back and forth across the small room, pointedly keeping her face turned away from him. Even though he'd stopped before finishing his explanation, it didn't take a mind-reader to see where he'd been going, and as much as she hated to revert to her old ways, the mask she'd so often worn in R4 was the only thing she could rely on to get her through this. And so on came her old bitterness and cold indifference to hide the fact that underneath, inside, she was falling apart.
Even though Eva desperately wanted him to stay, she knew that if he did, she'd be the one watching with an aching heart as he deteriorated a little more each day. So she wouldn't try talking Sam into staying, and she wouldn't break down in front of him. Both had the potential of keeping him here, and as much as the thought of losing him hurt, she couldn't let him suffer. That left only one option, and with the pain raging inside of her, it wasn't hard to find the words she needed.
"But what?" she spat, her voice impressively steady considering. "But what?! Love?" a scoff, "It's not a binding contract, Sam. It's only a word; a feeling; a heart, a--oh, what the hell does it matter what it is? It's not keeping you here. If you want to go, there's absolutely nothing stopping you." Each word was like poison on Eva's lips, and her rational side acknowledged that maybe she'd taken it a bit too far. And yet, as the tears broke free again, she found that she really didn't care. What was one more cut to an already scarred heart?
((Yeaaaah... >.> Went a little overboard there. Sorry ^^ ) |
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Feb 11, 2011 4:39:27 GMT -5
((I read that last paragraph and I literally felt Sam's heart break xD Poor babies, we're so cruel.))
Sam's eyes tried to follow Eva as she went back and forth, but they were straining after all that crying, and it just hurt, so instead he cast his gaze to the floor. He felt so wretched doing this, but it was the only option he could see. He didn't feel like he could lick his wounds, be on the way to healing his broken soul, while he was here. But that meant doing one of the hardest things imaginable. He knew how much it hurt to do this, he could feel his heart aching in his chest.
Her words were like knives, cutting into his flesh with such ferocity that it left him somewhat stunned. The heart that had been beating, somewhat erratically, in his chest shattered into a million pieces, littering his insides with pain and devastation. His bottle lip wobbled, the tears pouring unbridled down his face. "I thought..." He had almost... there was no almost, he had wanted Eva to tell him to stay, for her, for him, for whatever reason. When he said he had loved her, he'd meant it, body and soul, one hundred and one percent. And then she'd said:
"If you want to go, there's absolutely nothing stopping you.
He didn't quite know what to do with himself, what to say. All he could feel was the gaping hole in his chest, sucking his life away. "There was... I just..." They were all justifications, nothing sufficed. Her face was cold and emotionless despite the tears on her cheeks. She'd closed the door, shut him out, she wasn't going to listen. He'd said what he'd wanted to say, he received an answer that had obliterated his heart. That was it. There was nothing left.
Swallowing hard - not that it helped - he walked past Eva towards the door, the power that she held over him evident in the strain of his entire body. The door slid open at his command, and as he walked through it, he cast one last look back at the ever beautiful blonde. "Those three words?" he said, his voice not much more than a whisper, "I meant them. And I always will." And with that, he left. |
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