bigapplesauce | If I Apologized, It Wouldn't Make It All Unhappen [closed]

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If I Apologized, It Wouldn't Make It All Unhappen [closed]

This is getting shameful. She needs to pull herself together. This isn't the first time she's lost someone.

Of course, the last two times she lost someone - or thought she had, like in Carthak - she wound up on murderous rampages. It's just as well she hasn't done that now, she knows, but doing nothing is grating on her, and trying to fall back into her old routines is little better. As if she can just go back to life as normal.

Which is why she's still in her room at the base during a time when she'd normally be in the park, making her rounds. She can still keep tabs on the People from underground, so she'd know if anyone really needed her, but that's a weak excuse, and she knows it. She can't know for certain - she's not privy to all the People's secrets - but she has a sneaking suspicion that they're not clamoring to see her because they think she's safest underground.

Well, she can still accomplish something, surely. So she sits herself on the floor and starts to work on brushing Sarge and Molly. Especially Sarge; he's shedding something awful.

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After seeing Sunshine at the apartments yesterday, Peeta had come straight back to the base. It hadn't taken much for him to convince Phil to let him add the ward symbol to the front door. And when he asked about other entrances, Phil had sent him to one of the base personnel who gratefully directed him to a few lesser known and far less accessible ports. None were what Peeta would consider very usable, but he drew the wards on (or, in a couple of cases, near) them just the same. Better safe than dead.

After protecting the ways in, he'd worked on a few other areas - including a few by request, like the base infirmary. The base was too big for him to go around warding everyone's doors, but he decided he would do so for anyone who asked. The last ward he'd completed was the one on the door to his own quarters.

When he wakes up, his first thought is of Daine. He didn't ward her door last night, unsure if she was ready to see him. The thought had crossed his mind to do it without telling her, but he discarded it outright. From what he'd heard, Daine hadn't left her quarters much, and it would be nearly impossible for him to be outside her door and have her not know. Besides which, she isn't talking to him because of last time he tried to keep her safe. This time he'll ask.

Plan in mind, he dresses and heads to the kitchens to grab breakfast. Then, having fetched the necessary supplies from his room, he goes to Daine's door and knocks.

Daine and Peeta have done such a good job of avoiding one another the past few days that she really isn't expecting him to just walk up and knock. As it is, she's halfway to the door before Molly reluctantly says, It's Peeta.

Daine freezes, her hand extended toward the door, and glances back toward the dogs in time to see them exchanging an uneasy glance. Then Sarge pricks his ears forward hopefully, and Molly gives her tail a half-hearted wag. They understand that she's upset with him, but they wish she wasn't. They miss the boy with the bread, even if Daine's not willing to admit that she misses him, too.

Sighing, Daine steps forward. She has to face him eventually, and she's tired of hiding in her room. She pulls the door open.

She might've known it was Peeta, but she still wasn't prepared to see him - or to see Edgar, a few years older than he'll ever have the chance to be. It feels like a slap to the face, and Daine blanches, then flushes, pressing her lips together tightly. But she doesn't shut the door.

Preparing to deal with outright hostility or reserved anger, thoughts centered on the ward and why it's needed, Peeta momentarily forgets that he's a walking reminder of the boy they both lost. When Daine opens the door, her expression goes through a harsher version of the one he's gotten used to seeing over the past few days. His heart feels like it's in a vise, but he keeps his own expression neutral, though his eyes betray his pain.

For a few moments, he isn't sure what to say. Starting off with just "hello" seems ridiculous, and he isn't about to ask how she is. Finally, he settles on going straight to why he's there.

"I don't know if you've checked your phone recently," he begins, "but someone sent everyone a ward to protect against Lucifer, the thing that was in the park. Sunshine told me about it, said I should put the wards up here in the base since I'm good at drawing." He pauses and licks his lips, which are suddenly dry. "If you'd like me to - if it's okay - I'll put it on your door for you."

Daine did see the text, but hadn't done anything about it. She's no stranger to arcane symbols - Numair used them often enough - but it hadn't occurred to her that the sigil would accomplish anything if drawn by someone without the Gift (or some magical equivalent). At best, nothing would happen. At worst, mucking about with powers the gods haven't granted you might blow up in your face. Literally.

There's a part of her, still raw and furious, that figures if this Lucifer fellow wants to kick down her door, let him. She'd give him a few things to think about. But the larger part of her doesn't want more of her friends hurt by her absence - not just Aziraphale and Andrew and the other two-legger friends she's made, but the People as well.

Still, it's a somewhat dubious look she gives Peeta's supplies. It's easier to look at those than Peeta, himself. "Didn't think magic worked that way," she says, stepping back and sitting back down on the floor so she can resume work on Sarge. "Back home, you'd need to have the Gift for any symbols you drew to do anything."

She feels a little bit ridiculous, talking about magic when there's so many other unsaid things hanging in the air between them. But she can't voice those other things, yet, and she doesn't really want to try. Frowning to herself, she combs out Sarge's fur with a bit more force than is strictly necessary. At least the dog enjoys the sensation too much to object.

Peeta doesn't miss the doubt in her gaze, but takes her return to grooming Sarge as an invitation to do the warding. Setting down his bag just inside the doorway, he pulls out the needed tools and the drawing he made of the ward.

"From what I've seen, magic here seems to follow a mix of rules, some related to where it came from and some related to here," he says as he starts drawing. "I think this ward can be done by anyone in the world where it comes from, so it can be done by anyone here. I bet if Sunshine tried to do wards from her world here, they wouldn't work. Or if I tried to draw a symbol from your world on your door." He gestures to the same with the pen in his hand, but doesn't look at Daine.

He's talking more than he would normally - he doubts Daine cares about anything he's saying - but somehow the prospect of them sitting here in silence while he draws (something they used to do all the time, easily) is enough to keep him talking. Things that can't be said have more room to stretch and grow in silence.

"I saw Bee yesterday. You should call her, or go see her. She was worried about you." A twinge of regret runs through him as he says the words - it almost sounds like he's chastising Daine - but they're already out. Besides which, he means it. Bee does need to see Daine; he could tell.

He wants to soften it, though, but doesn't know what to say. We baked for breakfast; she might have leftovers? He's under the impression that Daine is less than interested in his cooking right now. I could make something for you to take, if you'd like? His help is probably less wanted than his cooking, him drawing the ward aside. Blocked mentally for words, he falls into a sudden silence.

Awkward as this is - odd's bobs, even their first meeting was less uncomfortable - Peeta's presence isn't as much of a torment as Daine had thought it would be. He looks like Edgar, yes, but he doesn't move like him, or sound anything like the voice her head had created for him. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. It's not as if she ever had trouble telling them apart before.

She watches him out of the corner of her eye as he works - and as Molly cautiously approaches him, both to watch what he's doing and, perhaps, get some attention. Her expression doesn't betray much until he mentions Bee, and then she winces a little. It wasn't until she saw Andrew's texts that she'd realized just how widespread the People's ruction had been, and she'd still been too wrapped up in her own grief and anger to think about who else might have noticed and put two and two together.

"I should," she quietly agrees, pulling fur off the brush and balling it by her side. "And Andrew and James. I… there are a lot of folk I should probably visit." It's a list Peeta should have been on, too, which might be part of the reason why she hadn't started to tackle it, yet.

Peeta catches sight of Molly when he glances down to check his progress against the picture he laid on the floor. Having done this so many times already, he doesn't really need the reference, but it gives him something other than the door to look at (that isn't Daine). Molly gives her tail a little wag when he meets her eyes, so he pauses to run a hand over her head.

"I'm sure the People miss you, too," he softly says. He knows Daine can communicate with them even from down here in the base, but that isn't the same as her being out there among them. And he knows she needs that contact as much as they do.

The bottom of the ward is far enough down the door that Peeta can sit on the floor to work on it. He does so, letting Molly nestle close enough to lay her head on his leg before he starts working again. He stops every now and again to check his work and rub her ears.

It's not just the People she misses. As she brushes out Sarge's fur, it starts to sink in how much she's missed Peeta, and the easy comfort she used to feel when she was around him. That loss is almost as bitter as the others, and there's a tight ache in her chest as she gathers wayward tufts of undercoat and attempts to bundle it all into one pile.

"We could just about make another Molly out of all this," she says, trying for humor she doesn't really feel. Sarge, flopped on his side, tilts his head to give her a more genuinely comical upside-down look, and Daine cracks a faint smile.

Wouldn't be the same, Molly says sagely from her spot by Peeta's side.

Too dark, Sarge agrees, tail wagging.

Peeta glances in Daine's direction, taking in the pile of hair. "I guess it's your turn," he says to Molly. Which is just as well, since he's going to have to stand up to finish the ward. Shifting carefully to give Molly time to move, he gets his feet under him and stands.

With another check of his sheet, he goes back to drawing, carefully working on the design.

Molly gets to her feet with philosophical good humor and wanders back over to Daine. Sarge takes the opportunity to roll up onto his own paws and go investigate the work Peeta's doing.

Daine keeps half an eye on Peeta's progress as she starts to brush Molly. There's a comforting familiarity in the motion of his drawing, and the design - though meaningless to her eyes - is rather pretty. But it's Peeta's face (Peeta's face, she thinks to herself, fiercely) that she finds her gaze returning to more often as he works.

Peeta gives Sarge's head an absentminded pat when Sarge sits beside him, but otherwise remains focused on his work. The main outline of the symbol is done, and the more intricate detail needs his full attention.

The air of awkwardness and discomfort between him and Daine remains, like a buzzing at the back of his mind, but for the moment it is drowned out by his drawing. He carefully connects the lines of the ward, not bothering to look back at his guide now, hand steady and gaze intense.

When the final line is drawn, he takes a step back from the door to review the completed object.

Daine slowly gets to her feet, curiosity getting the better of her. She sidles up to her door, stopping a couple of feet away from Peeta and looking at the ward. She doesn't know about any other universe's magic, so it's impossible for her to be impressed on that front. But it's clear in the neat lines and steady curves how much… how much care Peeta's taken with it, to get it right.

She ought to thank him. It's only polite. But when she turns to face him, her throat seems to close around the words, almost as if the Graveyard Hag had silenced her. She struggles for a moment, but she can't do it, she can't thank him for what he's done.

For the first time in three days, she wishes she could.

"I'm sorry," she finds herself saying - sobbing, almost, and she pulls in an unsteady breath. "Peeta, I'm sorry."

When Daine comes up to him, Peeta remains focused on the door. It isn't until she turns to him that he looks at her, mirroring her motions as he pivots to face her as well. He sees the change in her expression, and her struggle to speak, and braces himself for anger and accusation.

The apology he gets instead is therefore all the more surprising. Quickly, he bends to drop the pen he's still holding on top of his bag. His first instinct is to go to Daine, to hold her, and his arms lift of their own accord. But even as he straightens back up, he doesn't move toward her. He isn't sure if they are there yet, if she would even want him to, and he lets his arms drop back to his sides.

"Me, too." Not for what he did, but because he had to do it, because it caused her pain, because of who and what they lost.

Daine takes a small, aborted step toward him when he starts to open his arms and then stops. Miserable and uncertain - she hates this, she hates not knowing what to do or what to say, she hates feeling so dratted helpless - she sways on the spot, not knowing if she ought to move forward or retreat.

"What are we going to do?" she asks, as if he'll have any answers. She's not even sure what she's asking about. Lucifer? Them? She shakes her head in confusion and self recrimination. She's so useless.

Daine's reaction encourages Peeta, and - after only a moment's hesitation - he walks to her. He doesn't hug her like he wants to, but he takes the first step, gently wrapping his hands around her upper arms. The dogs bump into their legs, weaving between the two of them, watching closely.

Peeta knows what it's like to feel helpless - to be helpless - and he gives Daine's arms a little comforting rub.

"We do what we've always done. We don't let him - it - change us," he says, and memories of sitting on a different rooftop in a different world wash over him momentarily. He waits until Daine meets his eyes to add, "We give it time." The two of them will need time to recover.

Part of her rebels at the thought of trying to back to normal. In Carthak - and in Snowsdale, so long ago - she might have lost her head, but at least she did something. There had been grim satisfaction, or even a sort of comfort, in avenging her family and in tearing down the emperor's palace, brick by brick. It had felt right, at the time. It had felt fair.

She hadn't been proud of herself afterwards, though. When all the dust had settled, she hadn't been pleased with what she'd done. But would it really have been better if someone had stopped her? She can't even imagine it. No one's ever kept her from fighting an enemy before, not one who so clearly needed to be stopped.

Not that she could have stopped Lucifer, anyway - not according to Aziraphale. Maybe Peeta's right. Maybe getting back to normal is the only target she can shoot for right now.

What if she misses it?

She's feared losing herself before, but now that old terror rises up again in a new guise. The wall in her mind isn't going to make it easier to go back to the park. Or control her temper. Or keep her friends, and she doesn't think she can stand to lose any more of those.

Especially not Peeta. And she's been so awful to him.

Daine's face crumples, and she closes the little distance remaining between them, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face against his shoulder. "I don't know if I can," she admits, voice muffled.

Dueling emotions rise in Peeta as he puts his arms around Daine. It pains him to see her hurting, and to know that he can't fix it. But some of the tension inside him fades when she steps into his embrace, because it means that they can fix them.

He rubs Daine's back. "You won't have to do it alone," he quietly says. "We won't live in fear, or anger. And we'll take care of one another." He feels Sarge and Molly leaning against his and Daine's legs at either side. "Whatever you need, just ask for it."

Unlike others who have been in his life, Peeta believes Daine actually would ask for help, if needed. And he'll do whatever is in his power to give her what she needs to heal from this. Helping her recover would go a long way toward healing his own wounds. Just being able to stop avoiding her would help ease the lingering ache of the nightmares that wake him every day.

When Peeta says they won't live in anger, Daine remembers an earlier insistence that she wasn't angry - and the Graveyard Hag's response. Nonsense, dear. Even if she doesn't feel angry, that doesn't mean it isn't still there, just buried deep and waiting.

But Peeta's still here. She hasn't lost him, at least. With his arms around her, and the friendly pressure of the dogs on either side, she can almost begin to believe that things will get better.

Daine turns her face into his neck, wondering if she could get the words out if she tried to thank him again. And that's when she notices the beginnings of a scratch mark running beneath his collar. What? Frowning, Daine lifts a hand to tug the fabric aside, revealing the rest of a long, red mark down his shoulder. And it's not just that - his whole back is a mess of scrapes and bruises.

Daine gasps. "What happened?" she asks, dismayed, before the answer presents itself. She happened. Maybe she hadn't been trying to hurt him during her struggle to get away, but she hadn't been trying not to hurt him, either. Not hard enough.

"Peeta…" her eyes fill with tears, and she starts to push herself away. All that anger, all that magic, and the only person she'd managed to hurt with any of it was him.

Peeta has just started to relax, to truly feel relief when Daine lifts her hand to his collar. At first, he's confused - what's she doing? By the time he realizes what is happening, she has already seen his back. When she starts to pull away, he lets her - but only a little. Keen not to mirror the incident in the park - and knowing that he needs her to be able to look into his eyes now - he releases his hold on her, but takes her by the arms again.

"Daine - Daine, look at me," he says, waiting until she does so. "You didn't mean to hurt me. And I'm fine. I forgot those were even there."

Which is true. He is still aware of them, but that awareness had lost the edge that new injuries have. And he is glad that Daine didn't see his chest; since he had been holding her to him, that part had taken the brunt of her struggles.

He gives her a faint smile. "I've had worse from wrestling in school." Which is partially true. He sustained much worse single injuries, if not the volume of injuries. But Daine doesn't need to know that.

He takes her by the arms, and for a moment, it's as if none of the intervening years between Snowsdale and now have happened, and Daine just wonders how he can stand there and look at her without any trace of fear, anger or disgust - how he can not see her as a dangerous wild animal. Accident or not, look at what she did to him. But when she searches his face, she sees nothing but kindness. If there's worry, it's for her, not because of her.

Peeta's her friend, and he's not going to reject her. Later, it'll seem silly how the realization sinks in. He was her friend before; it should be obvious that he's still her friend now. It shouldn't feel like a brand new gift.

Daine hesitates, then steps forward again, hugging him more gently now. "I'm sorry," she says softly. Shamefully.

"It's okay," he replies, wrapping his arms around her again. "I don't blame you; don't blame yourself."

That would be the last thing he would want. And it wouldn't do either of them any good. He'll heal; Daine doesn't need any more self-inflicted wounds.

Daine can't help thinking that it's a little too late for that. But she doesn't want to argue with him. At the moment, she doesn't want to do anything but stand here, just as they are, and try not to cry.

The dogs allow them a few lingering moments before Molly circles around behind Peeta to look up at Daine, and Sarge noses at one of Peeta's hands. Daine huffs out a watery laugh against Peeta's shoulder, then reaches up to wipe at her eyes. "The dogs need walking," she says, pulling back a little. She gives Peeta an uncertain look, then cautiously asks, "Do you want to come along?"

When Peeta smiles this time, it's genuine. Things still aren't quiet right, but they're shifting back into place.

"Sure," he says, stepping back.

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If I Apologized, It Wouldn't Make It All Unhappen [closed]

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