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Aftermath in Two Parts / for Jack
July 10th, 2020 (late)
Anne limps slightly as she makes her way home, the aches of her scrap with Sweeney growing sharper and the haze of alcohol no longer dulling it, but she still feels satisfied, glad she made the challenge, pleased she held her own. Sweeney is as mad as he claims, but it don't put her off, not when she finds herself reflecting it back so easily. It was a good fight; she'll need to go easy for a while, but it was a good fight.
She doesn't think much about how Jack might react when he sees her like this until she's climbing the stairs to their apartment, digging around for her keys. She supposes he'll worry at first, but there's no vengeance to be claimed, no wrong been done. It was a fight she invited, and anyway, she's had worse.
Probably time to tell him about why, though. About Beverly and Rosie, the promises she made them. Been long enough.
Anne pushes the door open with a soft grunt, stepping inside and taking her hat off, wincing only slightly at the twinge that comes from lifting her arm. Fuck's sake. She needs to do this more often, lest she wants to start going soft.
Anne limps slightly as she makes her way home, the aches of her scrap with Sweeney growing sharper and the haze of alcohol no longer dulling it, but she still feels satisfied, glad she made the challenge, pleased she held her own. Sweeney is as mad as he claims, but it don't put her off, not when she finds herself reflecting it back so easily. It was a good fight; she'll need to go easy for a while, but it was a good fight.
She doesn't think much about how Jack might react when he sees her like this until she's climbing the stairs to their apartment, digging around for her keys. She supposes he'll worry at first, but there's no vengeance to be claimed, no wrong been done. It was a fight she invited, and anyway, she's had worse.
Probably time to tell him about why, though. About Beverly and Rosie, the promises she made them. Been long enough.
Anne pushes the door open with a soft grunt, stepping inside and taking her hat off, wincing only slightly at the twinge that comes from lifting her arm. Fuck's sake. She needs to do this more often, lest she wants to start going soft.
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But she does make her way back and open that door, stepping in softly and taking her hat from her head.
"Jack," she says to announce herself, her tone quiet and gentle.
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As the door closes Jack exhales. He doesn't move to look at her or sit up, but some of the tension in his shoulders softens. Whatever is going to happen now, he's glad that Anne came back. He's glad that she's safe.
"I'll need to send Greta an apology in the morning," he says, echoing Anne's soft tone. "I left her a message. It wasn't much." He curls in a little, readjusting his arm under his head. It had been a mistake, leaving that voicemail for Greta at such a late hour, when he was so frustrated. He does still believe what he'd told Greta- it's stupid to make a deal with Sweeney, and being friends with the demi-god doesn't make any sense to him, but he owes it to Anne to get along with her.
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Jack hardly ever apologizes for anything, which is only part of the reason why it surprises her. After a long moment, Anne sets her hat aside and drifts over to him. There isn't room on the couch and she doesn't know if she's welcome there anyway, so she crouches beside it, waiting patiently for him to turn toward her.
"Went to see her," she says finally. "She seemed all right. But..." She lifts a shoulder, wanting to tread carefully, not sure exactly where to step. "I think she'd appreciate that."
But she doesn't want to talk about Greta, not right now.
"I'm sorry I left," she says, the words soft and just a little foreign. "Shouldn't have done that to you."
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It's very seldom that Anne apologizes. He sighs, acknowledging that it is a difficult thing for her to do, and worried that this means she has something worth feeling guilty about. After a moment, he pushes himself up from the couch, awkwardly moving around to sit upright and face her.
He looks down, frowning at the state of her face. She's still hurt, but at least it seems she got cleaned up while she was at Greta's. For all that he doesn't trust Greta or her relationship with Sweeney, she does seem to care for Anne and she is good at mothering. If Anne was looking for comfort, there's no doubt that she got it there.
"I don't know-" He fumbles for words for a moment before covering his face with his hands and rubbing at his eyes. In the time that she'd been gone his anger had ebbed away quickly, replaced by a tight unease lodged up under his ribs. He's worried for her and why she would seek out a fight, and scared that he can't provide whatever it is that she needs.
Since everything with Max, every day with Anne feels like he's been standing at shore, the sand sinking out from beneath his feet. He feels like he's losing her and fighting against it is like fighting the tide.
He groans and then drops his hands back to his lap. "I haven't been what you need. I thought if I tried-" Try to be better, to be gentler, to be more like Max. He glances towards the kitchen, then finds her gaze again. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs lightly, his expression conciliatory. It obviously hadn't gone how he'd hoped it might.
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"You are what I need," she says, slowly, picking her words with great care. "But I need you to be you with me. Not someone else." She sighs, averting her eyes, but only for a moment. She wishes she knew better how to speak gently, that she had Greta's gift for it, but she won't look away from him. "You don't have to be everything all at once. And I... I should've known you'd worry. Should've let you."
She wants to pull herself up beside him, to be closer, but she waits, letting him decide when and where and how close. She still feels a bit uncertain, not sure if she's said too much or too little, or the right or wrong thing. Not good at simply spilling it all out the way he does.
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He looks down at her, frowning, and decides that the answers to those questions would hurt too much today. He sighs and tugs lightly on her hand, suggesting that she join him. "Come up here." When she sits next to him, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him, tight against his side.
He plants a kiss to the top of her head. "After Charles...part of me wanted to join him. For a little while." He draws in a breath, bracing himself and trying to move quickly past mention both of Charles and of how he felt after his death. "You said you'd asked Mad Sweeney for a fight and...well. Darrow has been difficult for both of us. I worried. Perhaps it was a little ridiculous." Anne has always been stronger than him, anyway.
"Why did you do it?"
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He doesn't talk about Charles. She doesn't ask him. Don't know how. What he says doesn't surprise her, exactly, but she still don't like hearing it. And when he suggests that might've been why she did what she did...
She huffs softly and thinks a long while before answering.
"It wasn't that," she says, gentle and firm. "I don't want that. And if I did I wouldn't have gone to him." She hesitates a moment longer and sighs. "Not sure why I did it," she admits finally. "I just wanted to feel something familiar. Remind myself what I am. And it felt good. I enjoyed it. I won." She still feels a little bit of pride and satisfaction, despite everything.
She's quiet a moment longer, listening to Jack breathe. "Won't do it again, though," she says, certain she owes him that much. "Not like that."