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[ Admittedly, that stings a little. ]

What makes you wanna talk about it now, anyway? It's been weeks.

Because you matter to me. More than just about anyone else in this bloody world, Sarah, and— it's been weird. I just, I just—

( She sighs, and flops back against the sofa. )

Waiting to try and make it better wasn't gonna do any good. Ignoring it and trying to be jokey wasn't doing anything.

You matter to me, too. More than almost anyone. That's why you piss me off so much.

( Its a nice moment, but a little bittersweet. )

How come?

[ Her jaw tightens as she tries to figure out what to say. There's all these thoughts in her head, and she has no idea how to say them in a way that makes sense. ]

I'm just sick of you deciding—deciding what I can and can't talk about, what I can and can't deal with. Like you think I'm weaker than you are, like you know best. The way you brushed me off when I said I'd talk about it with you, and then you say it's better for me if you don't talk ever, and then you drag me on that stupid date and act like everything's fine and I'm supposed to just say okay? That pisses me off.

( She winces a little bit, but doesn't speak right away, just letting that jumble through her head, turning over the pieces. When she speaks, her voice is soft. )

I don't think you're weaker than me. I think you're bloody strong, Saroula.

( Gently, and she almost reaches over to take Sarah's hand but thinks better of it. ) It's just, you've had to help me with so much shit, and me goin' to pieces and vein' a mess. And just because you're strong and you've handled all sorts of shit, that doesn't mean you should be having to handle it all the time. Especially if it's avoidable, and if it's me being stupid then-- I figured if it's me stuff then I should just lock it up, so it's not even a worry. Not because you can't, no way, just--

( A sigh. ) I've put you through enough already. like I should just try to be fun, or at least not bloody miserable. It's why I keep making stupid jokes, and that.

It's not fun if it's fake.

[ Which comes out more aggressively than she meant it to, but fucking hell, Sarissa. ]

Look. It's—fine. He's gone now.

Yeah. I know, I'm sorry.

( Sarissa sighs, and grabs a spring roll. )

I get wanting to move on, but... it's not okay that he hurt you. I'm so scared that shit I do is going to wind up fucking stuff up, and then I'm doing shit that fucks it up worse than if I'd left it.

You couldn't know.

[ She sighs and puts a hand over her face, rubbing at it as if she's tired. ]

Mm.

( Probably not, and yet. Sarissa leans over, and rests her arms across Sarah's shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair. )

I'll try do better, okay? I'm sorry for tryin' to make decisions for you. ( And another kiss, ) I love you. Sorry I'm shitty at it, sometimes.

S'okay. Sorry for being a bitch.

You aren't a bitch. Promise.

Yeah, I am.

[ She laughs, but kind of sadly, and leans her head onto Sarissa's shoulder. ]

( Her hand rests against Sarah's hair, tips of her fingers combing through, slow and soothing. )

Nah. You're assertive and you're strong willed and you don't take shit. Those are good things. And good things can go a little far sometimes, but "bitch" gets tossed around to put women down for not being what men think they should be. So you ain't a "bitch," because that's just a way to make you feel bad for being an assertive lady. Yeah? You're strong, and that's a good thing. I'm protective, and that's a good thing too, I just go too far with t sometimes and that's when it become bad. Yeah?

Yeah, I guess.

[ So there goes Sarissa making speeches again. It's okay, though. Better than not talking at all. ]

( She kisses Sarah's hair again, is quiet for a minute or so. )

Am I being too much again?

No. I'm just thinking.

Okay.

( Calm, not doubting or anxious. She carefully leans to bring the spring rolls into her lap, though, offering the bag to Sarah. )

I'm gonna crunch on these as quietly as I can, promise. ( With a quietly amused note to her voice. )

[ Sarah smiles indulgently, still quiet, and eats a spring roll. She sits that way for a minute before finally saying, ]

You know this guy at home was gonna torture me? Kill me, but not 'til after I wished I was dead. [ She moves Sarissa's fingers to a spot behind one ear, a line of scar tissue covered mostly by hair that wouldn't be noticeable if you didn't know it was there. ]

( Sarissa is quiet for a moment, gaze flickering to Sarah, letting her hand be guided to run down the line of tissue. Her thumb rests against Sarah's jaw as her fingers map out the line. )

No. I didn't know.

( There's just layers and layers to how difficult Sarah's life is, how much Sarissa doesn't know, how much pain she lives with. Some part of Sarissa can't help just be like "this, this sort of bullshit is why I want to protect you and not make you deal with shit," but it's not a part that she'll give any voice to. Instead she kisses Sarah's cheek, rests her head against Sarah's. )

What happened?

This guy was working for Rachel, and I snuck into her flat. He wanted information from me but I didn't have it. So he tied me up in the shower and used a scalpel.

[ She pauses. There's a lot of other shit there, the wanting Kira and the fact that Helena was supposed to be dead, but she doesn't mention them because mentioning them would make this story three hours long. ]

Helena killed him. I don't think about it much. So it's okay, what happened. With Sylar, I mean. I'm fine. [ "I don't think about it much" is a lie and not a lie. She doesn't think about it much when she's awake. ]

Jesus.

( Barely audible, little more then a breath, and she moves the plate and food off her lap and sets it all on the coffee table. It'll get cooler, of course, but that hardly matters. Nothing else matters, right now, beyond Sarah, and Sarissa wraps the arm that was being used to trace the scar across Sarah's chest, easing her into a sort of lopsided hug.

It takes a little while for her to put together a reply. )

I— get what you're saying, that it's not like Sylar and— that I didn't bring bad things into a life that was all perfect and tear it up, or something. ( At least, she thinks that's what it means. ) But the thing is, Saroula, messed up things are still messed up, even if you've dealt with it before, or you're used to it — that don't make it any less terrible than it was brand spanking new.

( Feelings are hard, she's not good at this, but she rests her chin on Sarah's shoulder. ) I'm glad Helena stopped him.

Edited 2017-08-30 02:54 (UTC)

ic contact; MoM

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