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licking my wounds and moving ahead
Apr. 15th, 2014 10:32 pmEven now that she's on her own, it still feels a little like the earth's given way underneath her, everything too irrevocably changed, leaving her too unsteady. Even now, Lucy still can't make sense of what's happened at all, because there's simply none to be had. In a purely theoretical way, she knows that these things happen here, that differences in time and therefore knowledge are commonplace. But nearly two years after arriving here, after meeting this Steve, the fact that all of this has happened at once now, that so many little things have fallen into place to create this perfect fucking storm, is all but unfathomable.
So is how thrown it has her. With all that's happened, all she's been through, she thinks she should be able to shrug this off, or at least give Steve time to cool off, to process what's happened. Unintentional as her secrecy might have been, she can't exactly blame him for being angry. That doesn't make it any easier to bear, especially when she feels so unbelievably fucking guilty. Bucky, for a while, was like family to her. Here, Steve's become one of the closest friends she has, one of few people around whom she's felt really genuinely happy, not some unsettled, unanchored, distant wreck. The idea that she might lose that, lose him, over something like this, information that she didn't mean to withhold, leaves her too shaken to keep going, to let go of it.
She thinks about seeing what Max is up to, if he wants to get a drink or anything, but rules that out after all of a moment. She'd tell him anything, but that tends to avoid the subject of the island, just because it's too strange, too difficult to adequately explain. There aren't, in fact, many people at all she's close to here who would get that, or to whom this would mean anything. Neil is the only exception that comes to mind. Hell, he should probably know about what's going on with Steve anyway, if he doesn't yet. Too restless to sit around on her own, she takes out her phone without another thought about it, typing out a quick message to him. Hey, are you busy?
So is how thrown it has her. With all that's happened, all she's been through, she thinks she should be able to shrug this off, or at least give Steve time to cool off, to process what's happened. Unintentional as her secrecy might have been, she can't exactly blame him for being angry. That doesn't make it any easier to bear, especially when she feels so unbelievably fucking guilty. Bucky, for a while, was like family to her. Here, Steve's become one of the closest friends she has, one of few people around whom she's felt really genuinely happy, not some unsettled, unanchored, distant wreck. The idea that she might lose that, lose him, over something like this, information that she didn't mean to withhold, leaves her too shaken to keep going, to let go of it.
She thinks about seeing what Max is up to, if he wants to get a drink or anything, but rules that out after all of a moment. She'd tell him anything, but that tends to avoid the subject of the island, just because it's too strange, too difficult to adequately explain. There aren't, in fact, many people at all she's close to here who would get that, or to whom this would mean anything. Neil is the only exception that comes to mind. Hell, he should probably know about what's going on with Steve anyway, if he doesn't yet. Too restless to sit around on her own, she takes out her phone without another thought about it, typing out a quick message to him. Hey, are you busy?
