and the name of the game is just the living

[more_magic]

They keep Alex at the hospital for a few days, as much for observation as for treatment. Darlington stays as much as he can, calling out of work and finding someone to take care of Kirby, making quick trips home to change and shower before he's back again. When they talk, it's stilted and hesitant, inconsequential things that only emphasize the enormity of what they're both avoiding.

It could go on like this. Maybe it'd be better if it did. But Darlington knows neither of them can ignore it forever.

He's there when she's discharged, the removal of all the tubes and wires from her slim frame only serving to emphasize how thin she is, and how unsteady. He hands her the change of clothes he'd brought, loose, comfortable things, going out into the hallway while she dresses. The cab ride from the hospital back to the Bramford is a silent thing, both of them looking out of opposite windows, their hands resting on the seat between them with fingers just barely touching.

Kirby jumps off the couch when they come in, nearly losing his mind with simple canine joy as he snuffles first at Alex, then Darlington, then Alex again, his tail practically a dark blur as it whips back and forth. "Down," he says, but there's no force in it. Alex goes to the couch, Kirby following, and Darlington scrubs a hand through his hair.

"I'll run you a bath," he offers. "If you'd like, and then...I think we should talk. Finally."

Comments

[takecourage]

He puts his hand there and, a moment later, Alex lifts her hand out of the water, lightly brushing her fingers against the lengths of his. It's not much, but it's a point of contact.

She nods.

"Lying's just...it's how I've kept myself safe, Danny."

[more_magic]

He hadn't been asking for touch, hadn't even expected it, but when it comes something unlatches slightly in his chest. Her fingers are warm and damp against his, and he catches them there for a moment, a brief hook of his fingers on hers.

"Because no one else would." He remembers the sound of plates smashing in their sink, holding her in bed afterwards as she talked about Goleta and butterflies and things she shouldn't have experienced. Not at thirteen. Not ever. "I even did a piss-poor job of it. Not that it's about me."

[takecourage]

"What are you talking about?" she says, her voice husky, leaving her fingers curled together with his. "Being with you is the safest I've ever fucking felt. This apartment. Kirby. You."

[more_magic]

"But I've still made you feel as though you're nothing more to me than the worst thing you've ever done." Darlington can feel the prickle of tears as they start to build, and he blinks them back. "Even if it was only for a moment, it's a moment too long."

He shifts his hand, running his thumb lightly along the side of her hand just above the line of the water. "I don't know where we go from here," he says, quiet and low. "What this has to be going forward between us. But I want to try."

[takecourage]

She nods.

"We'll figure it out," she says, because she has to believe that. She has to. She closes her eyes, psyching herself up for a moment. "I have to...I have to tell you about what I...did. When we were broken up. If we're going to start with everything out in the open."

[more_magic]

He could tell her it doesn't matter, but they both know that's a lie. There's something unreadable that crosses her face between the time she closes her eyes and they open again, like a steeling of herself against something. In this moment, it probably is. He nods, keeping his fingers in hers.

"Wherever you want to start."

[takecourage]

"You know about how bad the drugs got," she says, a flicker of something like shame crossing her face. "That was fentanyl. But I was high every day. Weed. Coke. Molly. Anything I could get my hands on."

[more_magic]

"Christ, Alex." It comes out like a reflex, more an expression of horror than an admonition. The wards should have been enough to keep out the Greys, to keep things quiet--but it wasn't about that this time, and he knows that as well as she does. His thumb keeps up that slow, gentle sweep against her skin.

"Who'd you get it from?" He has a suspicion, something vindictive and petty, but he's not certain it isn't also correct. She may not answer. It may not matter. He asks anyway.

[takecourage]

"Kavinsky," she says, her eyes narrowing. "But you can't go after him for it, Danny. Promise me. He wasn't...He'd never want to hurt me. I needed to get out of my head. Out of my skin. He helped, with that."

[more_magic]

"Of course it fucking was." Darlington tries to temper his surge of anger, the way it mixes with a sick sense of triumph at being right, at knowing for certain that his initial instincts where Kavinsky was concerned had been the correct ones. Alex says promise me, and he hears it, but the look he gives her is still sharply incredulous.

"You'd really let him get away with it? After everything? Who's to say the person he helps next is going to be as fortunate as you were?"

[takecourage]

She takes her hand away from his, bone weary suddenly, his anger making her feel vulnerable in a way she doesn't like, and covers her face with her hands.

"He only gave me what I asked for, Danny. Anything I did, I did it to myself. And if he hadn't sold it to me, I'd have got it from someone who's product I trust a lot less."

[more_magic]

"Purity is not an argument for leniency."

There's a precinct not far from the museum. He could go there tomorrow. He could do it on his lunch break, and then it'd be done--but Alex pulls away and puts her face in her hands, and that tells him all he needs to know about this particular decision. He hates it, this sense of someone getting away with something they shouldn't, and once again it's someone who wouldn't be too far out of place in Manuscript if they were at home. But he'll do it.

He takes a breath, letting the last of his anger flow out on the exhale. "Okay. I promise. I won't go after him. If that's what you're asking, I'll do it."

[takecourage]

"There's more," she says, a faint touch of colour touching her cheekbones. "And either I need to get dressed or we both need to be naked for the next bit."

She can't talk about the rest feeling this fucking vulnerable.

[more_magic]

"I think we'll overflow the tub if I get in," he says, and even though he offers her a faint, gentle smile, it's not enough to dispel the uncertainty that settles heavy in his gut. Of course there would be more. And whatever it is, it's something she can't face up to right now.

"Want me to wash your hair, and then you can get dressed? We can...have a reprieve for a minute. If that'll help what comes next."

[takecourage]

The idea of him washing her hair for jet actually sounds amazing right then and Alex nods, shifting her position in the tub to lean forward slightly.

"Yes, please."

[more_magic]

He'd done it once or twice before, but that was when things had been different between them. Now, as he kneels by the side of the tub and unbuttons his cuffs, he wonders if it's not some last, desperate attempt at pretending nothing had changed.

He's not sure how to touch her, whether he has a right to yet, again, ever. But he rolls up his sleeves, and cups water in his hands to let it trickle down her hair, and the familiar motions still feel the same. His long fingers scrub shampoo into her hair with slow, methodical intent, watching her face for some sign of contentment, a confirmation that maybe not all had been lost. Once it's done, her hair rinsed clean, he pulls the plug from the drain and gets up, holding out a hand to help her stand.

[takecourage]

As he washes her hair, Alex lets her eyes drift close, sinking into the gentle, careful touch. When it's done, when she feels squeaky clean, he stands and offers her his hand and she takes it, hauling herself up out of the tub, water rolling down her bare skin. She's not self conscious about him seeing her naked, even now, and she steps out of the tub, reaching for a towel for her hair and her robe.

"Give me a minute?" she says, pausing in the doorway. "Can you make me some tea? Please?"

[more_magic]

She's still painfully thin, the purpling track marks still evident in the crook of her arm, but the bath seems to have restored at least a bit of the girl he knows. It doesn't even feel like wishful thinking. Darlington gets her robe while she pulls a towel from the rack, his hand brushing hers when she takes it from him.

"Take whatever time you need," he says, stepping out into the hallway, turning back to look at her there at the door. "I'll get the kettle started."

[takecourage]

It's a few minutes later when Alex comes padding out of their bedroom in sweats and a t-shirt, her damp hair pulled back from her face, shrouded in one of Darlington's hoodies.

"Okay," she says, folding herself into one end of the couch.

[more_magic]

Darlington busies himself in the kitchen, both listening and not for the occasional sounds of Alex moving around in their bedroom. In the bedroom. He's not even sure it's theirs any more. He gets the tea out of the cupboard, some herbal blend that promises comfort even if it doesn't have any of Alex's beloved caffeine, and when the water's boiled he pours it into two mugs, letting it steep as he carries both out to the living room.

She comes out of the bedroom a moment after he's set their tea down on the coffee table, and he glances up. He recognizes the hoodie as his, or one that started out that way; she'd taken it so often that his claim of ownership, like so many other things, had long ceased to be important. Alex chooses one end of the couch and he takes the other, settling in and turning to face her.

"Whenever you're ready."

[takecourage]

Alex leans and picks up her tea, cradling the cup in her hands until it's almost painful. That's useful, that pain - it focuses her.

"I was..." She frowns. "With other people. While we were broken up."

[more_magic]

She doesn't try to soften it, doesn't lead into it with anything more than the plain facts of what it is. Whether that makes it worse or better than if she'd tried, he doesn't know, but like this, it feels like a punch in the gut.

He hadn't even thought of them as broken up. Fractured, yes, but ultimately reparable. He doesn't like to think that he might have been wrong.

Alex is watching him, that wariness back in her eyes, and Darlington knows he has to say something. It takes him a moment, and even when the words come, they're a little rough. "And that was your choice?" he says. "It wasn't...however many times it was, you wanted it, it wasn't a result of the pills or the weed or anything else."

[takecourage]

She watches the look flit across his face, hears the pain in his voice, and wishes that she could take it back, screw herself up so small that she'd disappear.

"Nobody raped me, Danny," she says, gently. "I...enthusiastically consented. I just wanted to...feel something that wasn't missing you."

[more_magic]

If nothing else, that soothes his concern, the sudden fear that once again she'd been out in the world unprotected, unknown to him, and been harmed by that.

"You didn't have to miss me, Alex," he says. "You could have come home." His voice cracks on the last word, and once again he feels the sting of tears behind his eyes. He's not fast enough at blinking them back this time.

[takecourage]

"I didn't think I had a home to come back to," she says, and then she realises that he's crying and something breaks in her chest. She sets down the cup, shuffling closer, though she doesn't reach out to touch him. "I didn't...I didn't think we could fix it, Danny. I didn't think you'd want to and I just...running from it felt safer."