versusnurture | nineteen ♢ video

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nineteen ♢ video

[When the feed comes on, the first thing there is is a wall and half of a desk. Those people on board who've been inside will know it as Abigail's room. There's a small blood smear on the edge of the desk, another dark spot on the corner of the lens.]

[She doesn't turn it towards herself, but the camera does move towards the desk, is set down at the edge of it. Two hands appear in the frame, blood-caked, palm-up. There's blood under her nails, too, drier blood that's oxidized to a deep, almost black color.]

[She doesn't say anything. But after a moment, there's a strangled noise, and she knocks the camera off the desk. The briefest flash of dark hair and a pale face; then it hits the floor and shuts off.]

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[His smile is only a little bit rueful when he nods. He knows she meant to scare him, now, doesn't really get that she wanted to push him away. It almost worked. It might have, if not for other things. Confusion filters in again, and he lifts his hands in an uncertain gesture, wondering if it's worth asking what she means by catch.]

I'm - sorry, I was just--

[He drops his head, exhales, and looks up again.]

You disappeared, and I was worried. So when I saw...I'm just glad you're back. Are you okay?

Everyone keeps asking me that.

[It's clear from the look on her face that she has no idea. What does okay mean, anyway? Stiles tried to define it, and by his definition she is, but she doesn't--feel okay.]

What answer do you want to hear?

The truth.

[She doesn't look okay. She looks bloody, and off-balance, maybe, or confused, or - something else that he doesn't know how to define yet. Better to let her do that, let her set the parameters, so he knows what to operate inside.]

The truth?

[She feels like she hasn't told anyone the truth in years. She didn't tell Hannibal the truth, the whole truth; she didn't tell him how afraid she was. She told Will parts. She told Freddie parts, before, and now--now Scott wants her to tell him the truth like it's nothing, like it's all right.]

[She rubs at her dry eyes with the back of her hand, shakes her head.]

I'm not. I'm not okay.

Okay. [She's not crying, he can see that, but it still makes him pause to see her wipe at them. Like maybe she'll start. Like maybe she wants to. He looks down at his hands, wrapping them together because there is only so much he can do for people, even though he wants to do everything.]

I'm sorry. Can I do anything?

[She shrugs tightly, helplessly. Then she reaches out. She doesn't know what she's reaching for, exactly, just - maybe she wants to touch his hand, or bridge the space between them so there's a little less of it. Impossible to know until it happens.]

[But he never hurt her, to her memory. That counts for a lot, and she's been so alone for so long.]

[He lifts his hand whens he reaches out, brushes his hand against hers. Turns his palm up so that she can hold onto him, if she wants.]

Can I give you a hug?

[Normally he just would, but - with Abigail, it feels right to ask.]

[She grips down on his hand, hard and unthinking. One tear falls, and then another one, but she tries to stop there, as if any more will be too much and she'll simply fall apart.]

Yes.

[It would be so much easier if she was manipulating him, but right now, she doesn't think she could figure out how.]

[Scott's hand closes on hers, gentle and loose. He doesn't pull her toward him, just steps closer and wraps his free arm around her shoulders. He holds her close, bending so she'll be more comfortable. He doesn't know if she's manipulating or not, but he wants to believe the latter. She's not a bad person.]

It's okay.

[He murmurs it over her shoulder, past her hair. It's not okay, not in the good way, but it's okay to cry, if she needs to. He won't tell anyone she fell apart, and he won't leave until she's put together again.]

[When he wraps his arms around her, the floodgates break. She sobs; it's all she can do to sob instead of simply imploding, her eyes squeezed shut, her chest aching from how she's hyperventilating. It's loud, she's so loud, and part of her wants to be quieter, smaller, more subtle, but she can't. She can't be any more together than this right now, any less vulnerable.]

[Digging her fingers into Scott's shoulders, she buries her face in his neck and wails.]

I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

It's okay.

[He keeps repeating those two words softly, but he doesn't try to quiet her. He remembers breaking down. He remembers crying in his mom's arms. Sometimes you just can't stop it.

When his hand brushes the back of her neck, he can feel some of that ache, and he takes it, removes one part of this meltdown. He's used to his chest aching, by now.]

[Eventually her sobs get weak, slow down. Some of it's because he's taking the ache. She can breathe normally again. But she doesn't understand what he's doing, doesn't even realize he's doing anything. If she did, she'd thank him, but she'd be afraid, too. New things frighten her now, at the same time as she's curious.]

[She doesn't pull away yet, just sniffles into his neck. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.]

I killed . . . someone.

[He doesn't draw back, and when the majority of the pain is gone, he slides his hand away, wraps it around her shoulders instead. He doesn't answer right away, remembering what she told him the last time he hugged her, in the middle of the night, a year ago. More, maybe, or less - it's too confused now.]

How come?

Because . . .

[She draws in a shuddering breath, breathes in the deodorant-and-boy-sweat smell of him. If only she could be safe. If only--]

Because someone told me to.

[Her entire life is so incredibly foreign to him. He struggles. Someone told her to, and she just did it, that's so wrong but - Abigail isn't bad, he's so sure of that. She's not a bad person. Which means there's more to it, but he can't wrap his head around the scope.]

Was someone gonna hurt you, if you didn't?

Yeah.

[She buries her face in his shoulder, not looking out at the world. When he's here, she feels like she can safely hide, even if just for a minute.]

He was gonna kill me.

But it doesn't matter. I still did it. [Because part of her wanted to, too. Part of her wanted to make him happy.]

[He runs his hand over her hair a few times, careful to keep his breathing even and his heart steady.]

You were protecting yourself. That matters.

But you wouldn't do it like that.

I'm not you. I wasn't there, I don't know what I'd do. I'm...I'm sorry you had to choose. That's not....that's so messed up.

[She pulls back a little, looks at him carefully, as though inspecting some priceless work of art. Her expression is almost pitying. He just doesn't understand. He never will.]

[It's okay, it really is, it's just - she wishes someone did. At the same time she wishes no one ever will.]

[She reaches out to pat his cheek, his jaw, where hair grows when he becomes an animal. She remembers that. He isn't quite human. Neither is she.]

You're a good friend.

[His arms tighten around her in a brief squeeze, and he leans into her hand a little shyly. It took a long time for him to be comfortable with what he is, and it still scares him sometimes.]

You're a good person.

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nineteen ♢ video

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