capeandcowllogs | i've been repeating your speeches, but the audience just doesn't follow.

[ it's been a busy day. running back and forth from the lab for some menial supply runs might not be fun, but it's a good way to get some fresh air after dedicated hours slaving over slabs of metal and delicate test tubes ― god knows how danger chides him to take care of himself, and he listens. he wants to listen, since she's there all the time and they're nearly one, but strangely not enough. it's never enough.

right now, he's just off to visit a supplier of somestuff chemstuff, whatever, he was never all that good at thatstuff. he passes by an apparently prolific coffee shop (thumbs in his pockets and gait rather springy), head turning as he squeezes in-between the small group of people and the window (a little bit of rubber-necking on his own part) and, and, and ―

he freezes, lips parted. his heart skips a beat, palpitates from thereon. his breath catches in his throat. his ears catch only white noise, murmurs from the street fading away. his head feels strange. and danger, his consciousness forgets, lets go, pushes away, she's gone for now. he should be thinking so many things now, he's been so sad and then distant and then angry, pissed off, he should have the world in his head with no room to spare. no; it's all quiet. it's so quiet. he's blank.

madison jeffries is staring at her through a glass window. that woman, lillian crawley. like the first time those decades back, all over again. ]

[ she feels it, the weight of someone's stare on her, then the rising and instinctive aggression in her that makes her look up with a penetrating glare, with what the hell do you want written all over her face because she's expecting a stranger. it takes her a full second, maybe two, because it feels like it's been so long but her body processes it before her mind does -- a little uncomfortable tightness in her chest, her expression going from angry to surprised, the slight quickening of her pulse.

time freezes for a few long ticking moments. she forgets the coffee stain on her dress.

he probably can't hear her past the glass, the noise of the passing crowd, and she hardly realizes she says it, but her mouth visibly makes the shape of his name.

without thinking about it, she's moving to the door, back out onto the sidewalk, closing distance than stopping before she makes it the last few feet because she isn't really sure what's happening or what she meant to do, but it gets more real somehow when she says it again, his name: ]

Maddie?

[ when lil meets his gaze, the world seems to stretch and scale back over him. he can feel the ground underneath his feet, now, the presence of others. the shame, too. his eyes widen, and he's suddenly very dizzy. agoraphobia takes root and ― he steps away from the window (he doesn't want to know she exists, much less look at her), pushes desperately past the little clump of people without so much as a muttered "sorry".

by the time he's through, she's there. on the sidewalk, in front of him.

he's not prepared for this. he ― blinks at her, a hurt little crinkle coming in under his eyes. he doesn't think: ]

Lil.

[ her grip on that disposable cup of coffee might be a little tight. she hasn't seen him in so long she was starting to think she might forget or something -- but all the little details sure come rushing back fast. guess it's hard to really forget the little things about a person, when you've spent so much of your life obsessively alternating between loving them and wanting to beat the living daylights out of them. or sometimes both at once.

and oh, he says her name.

she probably thinks she knows what happens next, or at least has an idea of what she thinks he wants to do the most right now, so without really dwelling on it properly, she says: ]

Don't run away.

[ is he really that predictable? yes, probably; he was already scanning for the easy way out through the corners of his eyes. instead he looks at her, then ― tries hard to look through her when he feels something claw up in his throat. he's nauseous (she made him nauseous, sometimes, when they were together here, and maybe she could tell).

(and he can't tell if he hates her or wants her back, right now.)

anxious thoughts clatter through damaged neurons. his mouth opens, his eyebrows furrow. his arms go to his sides, then cross, he fidgets. ]

I don't know what t'say t'you.

[ some part of her can tell, even if she doesn't register it consciously, and that must be obvious, because all of lil's emotions show on her face. her insecurity ends up looking a lot like an angry sort of uncertainty, with the way her eyebrows pull together. if her grip tightens on that paper coffee cup any more, that thing will burst.

she purses her lips at him a long moment. she doesn't know what to say either. what do you say, after everything they've been through? after everything they've put each other through?

finally: ]

Y'could at least pretend like you're glad t'see me. [ a little exhale. ] Even a little.

[ "i hate seeing you" almost pops from his lips ― defensive, cruel. but there's a flicker of thought for once and it stops short. it's not true, he's wanted this, maybe, an excuse to see her, acknowledge her.

he thought he would be content with shoving his fingers in his ears and going "lalala" in regards to her existence. he thought it would be almost as easy as it was on utopia. (it was agony tenfold and he didn't even consider it would hurt so bad.) (he's been so erratic and strange he's felt like he was going to snap again and coat the city in a thin sheet of metal, all because of her.)

instead: ]

Y'aren't glad t'see me.

[ he sucks a breath of air through his teeth. ]

I'm just the guy that made y'miserable enough t'leave.

[ she, on the other hand, has been obsessively alternating between angrily crushing thoughts of him under her heel and moodily dwelling on her guilt, her regret. right now, she's somewhere between the two, her eyebrows still pulled together in that way that makes her look pissed off, that little dissatisfied downturn in her lips. ]

Did I say I ain't glad t'see you?

[ glad isn't the word exactly. she's just being contrary. but there is a little trickle of relief, maybe. at least he's not holed up somewhere. at least he doesn't look too awful -- though that thought leads her to think that danger must be looking after him, and that aggravates her.

it shows in her voice when she goes on: ]

Y'wanted me t'leave. Didn't you?

[ "i don't know."

his mouth opens, but he doesn't say it. god, all he can think about is how pathetic, how awful he must appear to her. she looks so goddamn angry, too, that it sort of scares him; he wouldn't blame her if she struck him, it would just be history repeating itself. danger might kill her. again, he stops thinking about danger. ]

I know I didn't want it t'end like that.

[ for once in forever he drags her gaze over lil, head following the movement of his eyes, up from the crown of her head to the tips of her heels. the dress is new enough to make some feeling seize hard at his chest (disgust?). there's an ugly brown stain standing out on her chest, highlighted by that yellow color.

he knows how much she must hate that. she's always cared a little too much. ]

If y'wanna beat the crap outta me, get it over with.

Y'stop that right now, Madison Jeffries.

[ her voice comes sharp, the pitch going just a little higher, upset. defensive, maybe, because she has struck him before, more than once, out of anger and vengeance, because she hated and loved him -- and she's feeling some of those things now, just looking at him and listening to what he's saying to her.

she hates it, that she feels acknowledged when he's looking at her -- really looking at her -- and she feels like she exists. it's awful and fulfilling at the same time. ]

I ain't gonna do that. Y'think I'm gonna do that? Y'think I'm that bad of a person now?

[ and maybe she is. she is a bad person, much of the time. but that's not what she wants to think about or agree with or hear right now. ]

[ he doesn't want to hold it in anymore. he can't think right, hasn't been able to think straight for ages, he knows he's not in the right mindset right now. if he were prepared for this, he wouldn't feel so hasty. he wouldn't feel like this, or intentionally say the wrong thing.

he'll look back on this and say that this was unfair. it wasn't right. ]

Yeah, Lil. You're a shitty person.

[ he's so miserable. ]

I think, for once in our goddamn marriage, y'were the fuck-up.

[ she made him so miserable. ]

I didn't know you'd be such a ― [ inconsiderate ] [ cheating ] [ fucking mutie ] awful bitch.

Edited 2013-02-25 04:33 (UTC)

[ the worst part is that it really, truly hurts her. her. diamond lil. strong, tough, angry diamond lil. getting her feelings hurt because she's being told the truth, that she's an awful bitch and she's responsible this time. she spends a lot of time in denial. maybe it's that. maybe she dislikes having the illusion that serves as her defense trifled with.

she doesn't even know how to express her frustration right now. inward and outward anger. her coffee cup finally crumples in her grip. she barely notices the lukewarm liquid dripping over her fingers. ]

I never said I wasn't an awful bitch.

[ she's shaking a little. she's that angry. or something. ]

But I loved you, didn't I?

Y'didn't love me enough not t'do that.

[ he thinks he loves her. he thinks he still does. he thinks, he thinks, he's never sure. ]

Not t'hurt me.

[ his teeth are bared, and his hands fan out. the world is in his fingertips, or at least the malleable parts are.

this is all just that little ruined part of his mind poisoning the rest. it has to be. he just wants her to have an inkling, half an idea, of what it really feels. does she even feel guilty? does she really? does she have any idea? ]

I hope whatever they did t'you in that godforsaken concentration camp ― I hope it goddamn hurt.

[ something changes in her expression. her chest suddenly squeezes tight, her insides recoiling, her feet moving her away, a step and a half away. she remembers it vividly. what it feels like for her skin to actually bleed. what it feels like for bones to break. to nearly die -- almost wishing to die, from the pain of being beaten, relentlessly, by those machines. she'd been helpless. and fragile.

fragile.

she was never going to let that go. ]

Y'mean what you did t'me?

[ the destroyed disposable cup makes a dull sound against the pavement when she throws it down, pointing her finger at him aggressively as she answers, pushes, defending her hurt feelings the only way she knows how: ]

Y'think I didn't love you enough, Maddie? Sometimes I don't think you loved me at all.

Edited 2013-02-25 05:10 (UTC)

[ he freezes. ]

That wasn't me.

[ it was him, wasn't it? he remembers it feeling okay, seeing the pain on others on little monitors. he remembers the gratification that came out of programming the bots for the beatings. watching the mutants with the red ms on their palms writhe in the gas chambers, when the boxbots turned the knob. was it a gas chamber? that building they marched them into ― a shooting range? a flooded room with water, a running current? he can't remember. why can't he remember?

he remembers the gratification of that hand clasped on his shoulder. immediately, he feels nauseous again. ]

I ruined my engagement for you. I ― I tried, Lil. I tried my hand at retirement. I never left y'outta my own choosin', I. I.

[ he swallows hard.

maybe he'll throw that suv parked at the corner at her. no, he can't. ]

I loved y'more than y'loved me.

[ she's wound so tightly right now, so on the edge of something horrible or violent that she might even welcome the fight now. because it is so much fucking easier to deal with the physical battle than the emotional one. she feels strong when the fight is physical. it gives her an enemy she can hit. the adrenaline helps her forget how bad her heart hurts.

it's like every little emotional injury she's taken from their marriage is being doused in salt water as they bring each one up. if looks could kill -- her stare is penetrating, singularly focused, obsessed, blocking out the people walking by them, the traffic noise, everything else. ]

Your engagement -- Maddie, y'didn't really love her. Maybe y'didn't really ever love me either. Or -- Or Danger. [ lil makes an angry gesture with her hand, out at the world, at the robot woman out there somewhere. ] I might'a made mistakes, but my feelin's were real.

[ both feel like a punch to the gut: "didn't really love her" "or danger". he doesn't want to believe it, her calling him, what? a manipulative fake. a liar. he's loved her. he wouldn't feel like he's dying, right now, if he didn't. he loves danger (she's not just a machine, he's not using her for some fetish developed from his suffering from humanity).

a step ― forward. ]

God, Lil, just.

[ step, step, step, step. he covers ground. they're still married. step.

he doesn't know what he's doing, or what he's hoping for.

stepstepstepstepstepstepstep. he can look into her eyes from here. ]

Just shut your fuckin' mouth.

[ the rising tension in her shoulders visibly grows when he approaches her, like she's unsure what to do when his aggression comes close to matching her own. she's used to just letting her anger swallow up everything, smothering whatever logic or accusations arise against her. it's petty maybe, but when he's close to her and her heart's racing, she's glad to be so much taller, grateful to have at least that one defense left, little threads she can grasp at to feel strong.

she vaguely recognizes how ridiculous she must look, with that awful stain on her dress and coffee drying sticky on her hand, shopping bags half-forgotten in the other.

it's so strange to have him look into her eyes. it seems like he's always avoiding it. ]

Why? [ defiance finally, stubborn and still tinged in anger, even if she's unconsciously lowered her voice. ] It's the truth, ain't it?

[ she doesn't know if she wants to kiss him or kill him, but both seem equally disastrous. ]

[ to look at her, madison has to look up at her, as if he's looking up to her. she's a giant. his shoulders move up and down with each and every heavy breath. his chest hurts. if people are watching, they're still just bystanders.

it's not the truth. ]

No. It ain't. The truth a'tween us is ―

[ he's not sure. his mouth twitches, and he's closer, still.

he remembers her falling. lowly: ]

― I'm alive.

[ something in her gaze falters a little. she isn't sure why hearing him say that makes her lungs squeeze. why it moves her and hurts her. she half-wishes it wouldn't -- she feels everything so fully, so violently. especially her feelings for madison, her love and her rage, both great and terrible.

she's still afraid of dying. ]

I'm still here. I --

[ she wants to fight it so bad. the inevitable. but she can't. more and more, she feels fragile and helpless, loathing it, breaking down a little more inside. she was never too stable to start with. ]

I still love you.

[ she's not still here, she's gone. he tried so hard to believe she was still alive and lil, but when she's like this, when she leaves him, it's like she's a zombie. shambling, in a ruined yellow dress.

hank said it wasn't fair to see her like that, or something of the like. hank is a two-timing coward.

he still feels anger rooting him hard down into the aggregates in the concrete. but now, it's tinged with this undeniable misery, a self-pity that weighs him. his mouth is still bent furious, but his eyes crinkle badly in that familiar way. ]

If y' still love me, why did y'do this t'me?

[ because i love you. that would've been the most straight-forward truth. because loving him gets her thinking ugly thoughts and makes her jealous, lonely, hungry for his attention. it poisons what remains of her grasp on reality after all these years, tears her apart and makes her feel whole at the same time. she knows she hurt him, and a part of her wanted to hurt him. part of her can't stand to see him hurt.

her misery is completed by his misery.

there is no good reason she did what she did -- there never has been. lil's not good with justifications and logic. she's made up of feelings, all extremes.

finally: ]

I don't really know anymore. You make me crazy like that, y'know?

[ it makes sense. it really does, but it's not good enough. it's not a good enough explanation as to why she threw it all away, it really isn't. there was something and then there wasn't, and it wasn't him this time. it was her. she hurt them both, not him. not this time, that's what he's telling himself.

his lip draws back in abject disbelief. simply: ]

Horrible.

[ it's a cruel little point he tries to next make, as if blaming her with his own problems makes it look like she has some: ]

I've never made love t'anyone after you. Me and Danger, we've never ― been intimate. I still love y'too much t'do that t'you. T'break our vows.

[ in his head, an empty auditorium echoes. no numbers. no feedback. ]

[ it's hard to describe what she's feeling. it's a calamity of physical and emotional symptoms, the way her chest hurts and her gut is all knots, how she's teetering precariously between guilt and love and anger. she feels like she needs to be medicated. she probably needs to be medicated before she chokes on her own emotions.

her lower lip quivers.

she thought she'd started coming to terms with all this. she was dealing with it, at least. but any progress she's made, if any, has been effectively crushed under the weight of them being together now, fighting, ripping open old wounds. ]

Y'say that like y'think y'can still do things to a dead person. 'Cause that's what I am t'you, ain't it? Dead? [ just saying it out loud is hard. she hates acknowledging it. only her temper helps her push through the syllable. ] I said I was sorry. I said I love you. I can't take it back. So y'tell me what the hell y'want, Maddie. 'Cause at this rate, I'm gonna go t'my grave not knowin'.

[ madison remembers when she laid cold and limp in his arms, the way her eyes were glazed over and strange. he remembers her warm, too; too warm. furious, lively. neither of them can overwrite each other in his perception of her. ]

I think I want it back t'normal.

[ he could take another step to reach out and touch her. but he doesn't, though there's a regretful pain in his wrist when he visibly lifts his arm up a little, almost reaching for her, and sets it down. ]

I'd like y'to be either with me or dead [ that's so cruel now that it's out of his mouth, cruel and greedy. ], same as how it's supposedta be. How it's supposedta end, 'cuz. I can't stand this purgatory crap.

[ he watches her lips and sees a high-powered baton splitting them in his head. the guilt and memory will never leave him, just as the pain will probably never leave her. ]

But neither a' those two are gonna happen. Y'made that clear.

[ she wishes he would touch her. like that would fix some of the things that are broken between them -- or at least make her feel less repulsive to him, less like a corpse and more like a woman. but that hand never quite makes it across that distance to her, never quite makes contact, and now she's thinking about a lot of ugly, awful things like how he must have physically forced himself to be with her all those months ago and how beautiful, how strong danger was, in metal and in flesh.

the angry misery inside of her threatens to swallow her whole. they're always so cruel to each other, some times more intentionally than others. she isn't sure she could separate the loving from the suffering anymore. when he says the word normal, she isn't sure she knows what that means.

her voice strains with frustration. ]

I can't be with you if y'don't want me 'round. You -- You're the one that walked away from me. I begged you, Maddie, I did.

[ another dull contact noise. her shopping bags meet the concrete, and she's reaching out to grasp him by the wrist without thinking. ]

I ain't denyin' I did y'wrong, but I ain't ever lied t'you when I said I loved you. I ain't ever loved another man, Madison Jeffries, and you're still gonna be the one when I really am the cold dead thing y'been waitin' for me t'be.

[ he freezes when she catches his wrist, and the tension in his arm ― he doesn't rip it away or push her back (not that he could, really, she'd overpower him in an instant) ― it goes all slack, like he's some sort of animal playing dead. from here, he can see how those little flecks of green in her eyes are catching the light. ]

I d-didn't walk away first. I begged y'not to, I wanted to try t'be with y'so bad and y'left me by. That.

[ his heart palpitates once again and hurts; he flinches for a painful moment.

slowly, because it's hard to say, it really is even without that frightening and unknown pain in his chest: ]

I love you.

[ he thinks.

but if he's been thinking that much, that hard about it, it has to be at least partially true. ]

That was the worst thing y'ever did t'me. And that's sayin' somethin' when sometimes I think I still see some a' them bruises y'left me.

[ her grip on him loosens a little, like a bit of the strength's been taken from her by that accusation. she's done a lot of terrible things to him. loving him to the point of madness hasn't meant that she was ever good to him. she's having trouble remembering a time when she made him happy.

her regret shows on her face. she looks hurt bordering on distressed. a little of the pain seems physical. it's hard to breathe with the way her heart clenches when he says he loves her. ]

Oh, Maddie.

[ she'd never meant to hurt him. all she ever wanted was a white picket fence and anniversaries and a family. she hadn't meant to sabotage herself. but she can't help it, can she? being so goddamn crazy. so manic. ]

I ain't been a good wife t'you. You coulda married Heather. Or anybody else. Y'knew I was bad, didn't you? From the beginnin', I was...

[ her grip tightens again. she's unpredictable like this, her emotions reeling, her control precarious. she could lash out or breakdown. her voice is unsteady when she goes on: ]

When I'm gone, d'you get better?

[ he can't stand to see that look on her face, where she loses some of that obstinate strength and shows. vulnerability. there's guilt in two parts and a third part of wanting to be the victim, not her. he'd rather a black eye than this.

his expression mirrors hers, and his hand drapes loosely over her lighter grasp: not out of consideration, but lack of strength.

no, diamond lil was never good news. stomping around his life, being an accomplice to mac's (that didn't really happen) murder, tearing him away from a kind and (too-)forgiving woman ― breaking everything, from machines to his heart. she wasn't a good wife, but he wasn't a good husband. isn't, still, because he doesn't know if he could really leave her.

he shakes his head at her. earnestly, for once: ]

I gave up on my humanity after y'die. I was bad then, but I'm worse now.

[ the breath he takes shakes him. ]

I don't know how this is gonna end.

Edited (what am i fucking typing this morning) 2013-02-25 16:35 (UTC)

[ if she were a good wife, she'd tell him that everything would be fine. she knows it will be, because she knows danger, and she's see that even in that -- machine, there's something that cares for her husband. that robot, despite being metal and wires, has convinced itself that it has real feelings for him. danger would defend madison against anything. lil knows that. she's seen it. she knows after her, after she's gone, there will be danger.

but the thought makes something dark and ugly and possessive twist inside of her, and she can't bring herself to verbalize the reassurance.

her grip on his arm tightens to bruising. she doesn't want to let him go. like some part of her is afraid he'll turn and run the second she gives him the chance. and when she speaks, the question seems a little hollow, a little desperate, and a little hopeless, even to her own ears: ]

Can't y'just take me back?

[ looking down at lil's hand curling painfully around his wrist, he peers up at her through his eyelashes. it would look weak, still does, except for that quiet sort of stifling discontent that permeates the skin around his eyes, the edges of his lips.

he's ― surprised, mostly, like she's transgressing some sort of line drawn thick in the reality between them, even though she's not. why would she want him to take her back? the pain of her leaving him eclipses the truth of him leaving her. but there's always been that awful dynamic and even he knows it; she might be diamond lil and more powerful in arm and mind than he'll ever be, but he's damn well controlled almost every aspect of misery in their relationship from the get-go.

if this anyone could call this a relationship anymore. there aren't many words to describe it.

"you're hurting me."

when it slips off his lips, he doesn't know what it means: ]

Not today.

[ the rejection hurts. she tries not to acknowledge it, because for a woman who's motto is that nothing can hurt her, she's been hurt a lot. and it's always easier to be angry than to be hurt. she lets go of him abruptly, drawing her hand back sharply like breaking contact with him would somehow make it hurt less.

her singular attention lingers on him, heavy, for a long moment before she glances away with a brisk turn of her head, lifting her hand to tuck hair behind her ear and straightening her posture a little. recovering, at least outwardly, tough on the outside, like she always is.

her voice comes aggressive, ill-tempered. ]

It's goddamn unkind, y'know that? The way you're always holdin' me off an' makin' me wait. Are y'that scared a'me, Maddie?

[ he was holding his breath until she released her hard grip, as if he expected (he doesn't know) whatever could be the worst. maybe for her to throw him around or cry, but the sudden distance is both merciful and bittersweet. it's always him asking for them to be a little more apart.

massaging the now-sore part of his arm, his voice comes both weary and wary. ]

'Course I am. I ain't eager t'be backstabbed again.

[ it's not all her fault, until it is. it is now.

yet, when he asks, there's something underneath that sort-of indifferent insult. genuine care, some self-sacrificing hope. ]

Ain't y'happier, now?

[ her arms come up defensively over her chest, her lips pursing in that way of hers when he uses that word -- backstabbed. there's the potential of violence brimming just underneath the surface of her, and it's almost visible in the tension of her body, her angry expression, like she's going to reach that critical point where she has no control, and the only thing she wants to do is make everyone else hurt as much as she does.

some days she recognizes what a mad bitch she is, all the things she's done wrong in her life, what kind of horrible person she's always been -- but right now, she hardly notices the volume of her voice, or the sincere concern hiding in madison's, because she's teetering on the edge: ]

Ain't I happier now? Ain't I -- y'got alotta goddamn nerve t'ask me that fuckin' question, Maddie. [ her tone turns accusing. ] Y'better enjoy takin' your turn and gettin' t'blame me for everythin'. Y'better milk it for every damn thing it's worth, 'cause when I ain't around anymore, y'ain't gonna have anyone else t'blame, and y'ain't ever gonna have anyone who's stupid enough t'wait around for you their whole goddamn lives again either.

[ she takes a deep, shaking, angry breath. ]

Nobody's ever gonna love you like I love you.

[ danger does, he almost says, for the sake of honesty and harm. except it's not the same. they're different and danger is no replacement nor a substitute. she wouldn't hurt him the same way that lil has, but she wouldn't ― doesn't ― understand the same pain, even when his information is being freely fed to her circuitry.

pointing a shaking finger at her, he doesn't care that she looks like she's about to snap like a thin strained cord. out of the two of them, he's always been more afraid of himself. ]

Y'could have any guy in the City, Lil. Don't even got me holdin' y'back or anythin', y'could just reach out and ―

[ taking a shallow breath, he's nearly hysterical. hyperventilating, a little. ]

Ain't waitin' around for me, you left. I stuck around, I've been waitin' for this t'get better in the way y'gave up. Y'reckon y'could do anythin', but y'couldn't even. Don't even get why y'couldn't just say no t'him, it shoulda b-been so easy...

[ looking down at his feet, his fists clench and unclench the same way his jaw is under his skin. ]

Why're y'wastin' your time, thinkin' y'wanna be with me again?

You --

[ there it is, the violence. it rips free of her control in a split second of weakness, and whatever little distance was opened up between them is gone in one step of her endless legs, with one reach -- and she's got a hand in his shirt, dragged him towards her, eyes wild and wet, hand pulling back before her open palm makes contact with his face.

it doesn't even matter to her if he deserves it anymore. it doesn't matter to her that some people have stopped to look, concerned and maybe afraid. ]

That's just my whole goddamn life, ain't it? Wastin' my time thinkin' I wanna be with you again. What the fuck d'you want from me, Maddie? If y'wanted a woman that ain't ever gonna make mistakes, y'shoulda built y'damn self one, 'cause I'm real an' I got feelin's --

[ she slaps him again, just as hard as the first time, and now the observers can't stand by anymore, someone is trying to get her attention ("miss, miss --") and someone is tugging at her, wanting her to let him go but she can't see anything else but him and she's so strong.

her voice is getting hysteric. ]

Why'd y'marry me if y'weren't gonna be with me? Why even pretend, Maddie?

[ it shouldn't be a shock to him, how she's there and close and radiating what has to be just utter hate and loathing of him and how did he forget she was so passionate and uncontrollable. but the way his head flies to the side at the force, how he jumps when she grabs him, it's like he almost didn't expect this. he wanted to be close and have an excuse, but he didn't really want this to be shook into his system.

his eyes are so wide and his breath is so still. her words go in through one ear and out the other. ]

Wait, st-stop.

[ it's the second slap that really hurts, grunts when it makes contact and leaves something pricking at the corners of his eyes and the contours of his skull. he ineffectually kicks his legs underneath him (she's so strong she's nearly holding him up, how did she manage to die), grabs at her arm even though it's powerful and unyielding.

it's so easy to dismiss her but at this moment he is afraid of her, really; his voice is buried that pleading and pathetic note of panic. ]

Please, don't―!

[ and then she's there suddenly, landing with the heavy sound of metal against concrete, brisking pushing aside the spectators, and closing in on lil. it takes her two calculated moves and under three seconds to break her grip loose and twist her arm behind her back, forcibly dragging her a few feet backwards, away.

her face is unreadable, except for narrowed eyes. but she felt it-- his pain, his anxiety, his fear. her response is a flare of anger, protectiveness, the need to put herself between him and the present threat: his wife.

she doesn't ask if he's alright or not. she doesn't need to ask that out loud, and when she speaks, it's more a gesture of reassurance than anything else. ]

Madison, you are safe now.

[ lil receives no acknowledgment. lil is complicated. part-friend, part-enemy, once a companion and always dangerous. a constant physical and emotional time bomb waiting to go off. ]

[ the noise lil makes when she's suddenly restrained, suddenly pulled away, deprived of a target for her feelings -- it's angry, a little unhinged. she's turning sharply to see who the fuck is interfering, what asshole could possibly think they have any fucking right to stand between her and her husband -- ]

You. Y'goddamn robot bitch.

[ it's illogical that this feels like betrayal, because it wasn't like they were ever really friends or anything -- but there was that time, that surreal period where danger was soft and fragile like lil and so lonely, and all they had was each other. the only real human contact they'd had was each other.

but she sees nothing of that in danger's hard face now. her insecurities multiply. her frustration rises. ]

Let go, or I fuckin' swear --

[ madison doesn't even need to say a thing to danger, not when he's suddenly all-too aware of her existence again and the way that the link is there when time speeds up again. but he's still so shocked, all the information he sends is slow and sparse and he can barely comprehend the numbers she's flitting his way. (he should have walked away before that, it shouldn't have been hard.)

apprehension wells up in his chest to haul itself upon the stinging in his head. it's going to get worse, he doesn't want it to get worse, he stammers: ]

Stop, don't ―

[ she feels the tension in lil's body, the resistance in her muscles, and it's almost cruel the way danger tightens her grip, putting more pressure on the awkward angle of lil's arm behind her back. it isn't that she has no feelings for the woman-- she has some, the kind that she's failed to properly quantify-- but her feelings are, at the end of the day, just complex data, and she's more than capable of prioritizing whatever lingering feeling of indebtedness she has below the more pressing concerns of the moment.

whatever lil is saying to her, the angry namecalling and threats, gets dismissed as useless environmental input. behavioral patterns suggest that lil is almost always angry and frequently responds this way. danger is unfazed by it.

she hears (feels) madison's protest, but she doesn't move to let go. ]

Lillian, I require your cooperation before I will release you. You will calm yourself.

[ calm is the very last thing lil feels right now -- after rage, jealousy, all the ugly feelings anyone's ever accused her of having and then some. even now, hearing that steady mechanical voice drives her a little more over the edge. she really hates it, her and danger being juxtaposed like this, because the differences between them suddenly become that much more obvious.

she hardly even notices the hot, furious tears slipping down her face. her stare is accusing, always accusing. god, she has so much anger inside her. the pain in her arm is almost nothing by comparison.

she doesn't mean it when she speaks. maybe. she doesn't know anymore. she loves him so much. she loves him like crazy. but sometimes she hates him too. right now, she isn't sure which it is. ]

You're a coward, Maddie. A goddamn coward. Y'won't take me back an' y'won't end it. You're just gonna wait 'til I'm really dead and y'won't have to lift a finger t'deal with me. [ disdain is thick in her voice: ] Then she'll take care a'everythin' for you, eh? You won't even have t'spend a fuckin' second alone when I'm gone.

[ it's hard to tell whether it's the physical or emotional violence that harms him more and leaves him shaking. god, he can't stand this, being pulled in one direction and shoved back the opposite way. two steps forward, one step back.

a conscious, clear thought: maybe she's right. maybe he is just waiting for her to die.

gaze flicking between the two of them, he just sort of. visibly gives up, really, his shoulders slumping and his eyelids weighing down. he's too tired to handle any of this, tortured by her words and playing them in his head like a scratched record. ]

Just let her go, D.

[ he watches the tears drip down over her cheeks, and feels just an unidentifiable knot of emotion, mixed and cluttered.

blearily: ]

I reckon she's done.

[ it's more the emotional feedback she's receiving than the actual command that makes danger finally loosen her grip on lil. she isn't sure she understands it-- the data is a conflicted mess, a tangled cluster of ones and zeroes that seem to require some kind of decoding. the biological information is more straight-forward, the signs of fatigue and stress. that much, she can process now, effortlessly. the rest will require more thought.

she steps back from lil, moving to join madison. she quietly takes his nearest hand in hers-- a gesture meant to be both protective (possessive?) and reassuring, like a reminder that she's solid, strong, and steady.

all she says out loud is: ]

It would be best if you left now, Lillian.

[ it's insulting. the whole thing is insulting. lil feels like she might spontaneously combust right there. she indulges, for a second, the fantasy of just slamming danger into the pavement and ripping her into small metal pieces. it helps a little, but only a little. the feeling of wanting to throw up or scream doesn't go away. it's hard to breathe.

she's shaking a little, so she grasps her own hands to still them. she hates feeling weak. she's diamond lil.

inside, she holds on tight to her hatred, afraid that it's the only thing left that makes her strong. outwardly, she stares hard at madison for a long, long second before finally, she straightens out her ruined dress, picks up her bags, and turns to leave. ]

[ half-expecting to feel comforted and secure by danger's hand on his, he feels ― unnerved, not from her touch but the context of it. to hold hands is cruel, now, and he has that awful feeling that it's possessive to a showy point. it's more bitter than sweet.

the stare feels like it's burning a hole in him, and he has to look away (not only from lil).

when when she turns, walks, he immediately wrenches his hand away. there's a little flicker of guilt and admittance between them the moment after when he realizes how it might be hurtful, but there isn't as much conviction in it as there should be.

out loud, meaninglessly: ]

Thank you.

[ despite all of it, the only changes in danger's expression are minute, hardly there at all. it's almost beside the point now, for her to express herself that way, and she's not like lil, not until her anger overrides her powerful logic.

she's analyzing it now. the situation. lillian and her violence. madison and his guilt, his conflict. and there's her own feelings, the twinge of hurt and uncertainty at how he'd pulled away from her, the lingering protectiveness, her emotional inexperience showing in the way she fails to completely understand the feedback from madison-- or maybe, more accurately, in her failure to sympathize. she replays the key points a few times, perfect memory, looking for what she'd missed because he doesn't seem better with the threat removed.

wouldn't he want to be safe? ]

You do not seem relieved. I don't understand. [ a pause. ] Please clarify: have I done something wrong?

i've been repeating your speeches, but the audience just doesn't follow.

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