[She really shouldn't have said that. He knows she didn't really mean it the way he processed it, but he can't help the way he suddenly pulls away from her and he can't keep the fear and hurt from his face.
Honesty, right? It sucks.]
I want to.
[It feels a lot like he has to. There's no alternative; he either deals with it, or he doesn't have her.
He's not sure which would hurt more, but he knows which option he prefers.]
[She tenses when he pulls back, but at least the worry about his reaction is enough to get her to look at him, and maybe that fear and hurt is reflected in her own expression, just a little.
She shakes her head, gaze dropping.]
You don't have to figure it out.
[Still that same reassuring tone, even if her voice is a bit tight.]
It's my shit to deal with, not yours. [a breath, shaky, trying to steady herself for what comes next, because it's hard to admit:] You don't have to fix me.
[That's not his job, and she's sure it isn't what he signed up for, when he first kissed her all those months ago.]
[There goes his heart again, dropping straight to the floor with her gaze.
He reaches for her arm. Pulls his hand away. Tries again, settles for lightly touching her fingers.
This is how love works, right? The shit she's dealing with is the shit he's dealing with, just like the shit he's dealing with — Jesse, Walter — is the shit she's dealing with. It's like the transitive property, or something.
He wants so badly to say that he isn't trying to fix her, but he guesses that really is what he's doing, on some level. Saul is a problem solver, though; it's what he does, it's why he's so good at his job, it's what rakes in the cash.
And that's what ultimately drew him to Effie in the first place: results. It was instantaneous, the improvement in her mood and demeanor whenever he was around. There wasn't really any backsliding until he left her. But with Steph, it's — it's a lot like dealing with Jesse. Things are okay, then they're not, then they are, then they're not.
And yet in spite of everything, he still loves her. She's offering him a way out and he won't take it, even though he's terrified.
If that's not love, he has no idea what is.]
I knew what I was getting into. You told me everything, Steph. Between the coffee shop and my room and all of it — I knew. But I kept chasing you anyway, didn't I?
[As soon as he touches her fingers, she'll take his hand, if he'll allow it, her grip gentle as much as she wants to cling to him.
And he's right again, really, since she told him so much so early on and it didn't seem to stop him from chasing her. He knew more than Tim did, probably more than Ellie did, because she always talked about the gang war vaguely, never quite wanting to go into detail.]
I think I do a pretty good job of seeming more together than I am.
[Like she can make a joke of it.
Like he didn't just tell her that he doesn't buy her jokes.]
[She wants to tell him that he doesn't need her, that he'd be fine without her, but she's not sure if it's true. More importantly, she's not sure if she wants it to be true, because she needs him, as well, and that feels a little better if it's even.]
Together.
[That wasn't a question, but she's answering it anyway.
She brings her other hand up to rest against his cheek.]
I'll be okay.
[I'll do better is what she means. She'll try to stop worrying him so much, try to actually believe everything he - and everyone else - tells her.]
He leans his cheek against her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He doesn't know if he believes what he just said, but he's hoping. Desperately hoping.
Now that the dread has passed and he's sure she's not trying to talk him into leaving, he can kiss her again — so he does, opening his eyes just so that he can lean in and catch her lips.]
[But he doesn't mean them individually; he means them as a unit. As a couple. Or whatever it is they are.
The kiss lasts for a few seconds, but that's all. It's when his hand slides into her hair that he realizes where they are and thinks better of standing there and kissing her as much as he'd like. Too dangerous.
[She knows she should take a step away from him, in case any of her roommates turn up, but she can't bring herself to. Not with what she's about to say next.]
If he finds out about me, promise you won't let him use me against you.
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controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
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Honesty, right? It sucks.]
I want to.
[It feels a lot like he has to. There's no alternative; he either deals with it, or he doesn't have her.
He's not sure which would hurt more, but he knows which option he prefers.]
I'll figure it out. I just need more time.
[Not yet, Steph, please.]
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She shakes her head, gaze dropping.]
You don't have to figure it out.
[Still that same reassuring tone, even if her voice is a bit tight.]
It's my shit to deal with, not yours. [a breath, shaky, trying to steady herself for what comes next, because it's hard to admit:] You don't have to fix me.
[That's not his job, and she's sure it isn't what he signed up for, when he first kissed her all those months ago.]
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He reaches for her arm. Pulls his hand away. Tries again, settles for lightly touching her fingers.
This is how love works, right? The shit she's dealing with is the shit he's dealing with, just like the shit he's dealing with — Jesse, Walter — is the shit she's dealing with. It's like the transitive property, or something.
He wants so badly to say that he isn't trying to fix her, but he guesses that really is what he's doing, on some level. Saul is a problem solver, though; it's what he does, it's why he's so good at his job, it's what rakes in the cash.
And that's what ultimately drew him to Effie in the first place: results. It was instantaneous, the improvement in her mood and demeanor whenever he was around. There wasn't really any backsliding until he left her. But with Steph, it's — it's a lot like dealing with Jesse. Things are okay, then they're not, then they are, then they're not.
And yet in spite of everything, he still loves her. She's offering him a way out and he won't take it, even though he's terrified.
If that's not love, he has no idea what is.]
I knew what I was getting into. You told me everything, Steph. Between the coffee shop and my room and all of it — I knew. But I kept chasing you anyway, didn't I?
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And he's right again, really, since she told him so much so early on and it didn't seem to stop him from chasing her. He knew more than Tim did, probably more than Ellie did, because she always talked about the gang war vaguely, never quite wanting to go into detail.]
I think I do a pretty good job of seeming more together than I am.
[Like she can make a joke of it.
Like he didn't just tell her that he doesn't buy her jokes.]
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I think we all do.
[God knows he's guilty of the same thing. She's just better at it.
Saul draws a shaky breath and hopes she won't notice.]
You're still the only one I trust.
[He's thinking of Ella's party again.]
Together or otherwise, I need you.
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Together.
[That wasn't a question, but she's answering it anyway.
She brings her other hand up to rest against his cheek.]
I'll be okay.
[I'll do better is what she means. She'll try to stop worrying him so much, try to actually believe everything he - and everyone else - tells her.]
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[Since they're on the topic of togetherness.
He leans his cheek against her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He doesn't know if he believes what he just said, but he's hoping. Desperately hoping.
Now that the dread has passed and he's sure she's not trying to talk him into leaving, he can kiss her again — so he does, opening his eyes just so that he can lean in and catch her lips.]
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[It's quiet, but she sounds like she means it.
She knows he will be, because that's what he does. She's less sure about herself, but she'll try.
And she sighs against the kiss, leaving her hand on his cheek and letting go of his hand so she can wind the other around his waist, stepping closer.]
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The kiss lasts for a few seconds, but that's all. It's when his hand slides into her hair that he realizes where they are and thinks better of standing there and kissing her as much as he'd like. Too dangerous.
At least it gives him the opportunity to say:]
I love you.
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And it reminds her of something else she wanted to talk to him about.]
I love you, too.
[She steals one last quick kiss, then:]
Saul. [a breath] What do we do if Walter shows up?
[Jesse doesn't want him to know about him and Lisbeth, does the same apply for them?]
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You do your thing. Stick to the shadows, don't let him know you're there. We need to know what's up with him before... well, before anything.
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[She knows she should take a step away from him, in case any of her roommates turn up, but she can't bring herself to. Not with what she's about to say next.]
If he finds out about me, promise you won't let him use me against you.
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He bites his lip, looks at her, and says:] If that happens, I'll try.
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Trying isn't enough.
[She needs him to promise this, she needs to know she won't be a weakness that Walter can exploit.
A little more forcefully:] There's nothing he can do to me that hasn't been done. That I haven't survived already. Don't let him use me.
[She's not a piece to be played; she'll die before she lets anyone use her like that again.]
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He squeezes Steph's hand, expression grim.]
I won't.
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[She doesn't kiss him again, just curls her fingers around the back of his neck and leans up to rest her forehead against his.
Quietly:]
Do you know why I was so angry?
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She sighs.]
Because it felt like you were undermining me in front of people I need to trust me.
[Because it gave the impression that he didn't trust her, whether that was true or not.]
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He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.]
I'm sorry.
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My best friend used to knock me unconscious and leave me on a rooftop if she thought I wasn't gonna be able to handle the fight in front of us.
[She knows Cass was just trying to protect her, that she didn't exactly have social skills, but it still hurt.]
Please don't do it again.
[Everyone else undermines her; she can't stand it if Saul does it, too.]
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I won't, neshomeleh.
[That'll help, right?]
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And it does help, both the reassurance and the familiar term of endearment; with a quiet sigh, she moves in for another hug.]
Thank you.