He hitches in a breath, and although he doesn't cry (can't, over this) he can feel how deeply her embrace comforts him. It scares him, very badly, how much this had scared him. He almost hadn't known how to continue, without either of them.
"Furiosa," he explains, his voice right with emotion.
When she pulls back, her cheeks are wet, though she wipes them without comment before she dares to look at him again.
"It had to be T'Pol. She wouldn't, otherwise. I wouldn't." She swallows. "May I come in?" She doesn't want to do this out here, where anyone might see.
He takes out a handkerchief from his back pocket and hands it over before ushering her inside and closing the door behind them. He wants, again, for her to speak: he's still shocked, at a loss.
She dries her cheeks wordlessly, but hangs onto the handkerchief. She hates to cry, but she can't be sure she's done with it. Not when she still feels this raw and hollowed out.
"She found my memories. The worst ones - Gyongxe. And she tied you into every one. I couldn't even hear your name without feeling pulled back there." She sounds bitter, disgusted, apologetic all at once. Tommy doesn't belong there. Not in another war, worlds away.
He leads her to a sofa, soft and overstuffed. He swallows thickly around tears of his own, but this time doesn't evade her eyes.
"It's a violation," he says, finally, because what else is there to say? He can't say he's sorry, because he did nothing, but he wishes it hadn't happened with all his being. That she can stand here and look at him now is already a gift.
She falls back into it, looking smaller than usual. She's pulled into herself, guarded and unsure where there's usually comfortable self-confidence. And she is, after all, rather petite under the power of her personality.
"I've never regretted killing someone before. That it had to be done at all, perhaps, but not the act itself. It's always been necessary-" And she's rambling. She looks down at her hand, rubbing her knuckles absently. "Thank the gods I didn't succeed. But that I even tried-"
She looks away, remembering the first time she came here. Trusting him with a blade at her throat as he helped her shave during her brief time as a man. "I'm so, so sorry, Tommy."
He's sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, so he can touch her if she needs it-- but then she says that and he needs it, and it takes all his strength to ask for it. He reaches out and wraps his hand around hers, stilling the gestures, and hitches in a breath before speaking.
Rosethorn folds into him wordlessly, gripping his hand tightly in her own, her other arm wrapping around his shoulder in a fierce hug. This is right. Even the breach, where he was her blood, feels more real right now then the past few days have.
She breaths in shakily, pressing her face to his shoulder.
He pulls her in tightly, his hands settling between her shoulder blades. His breath is irregular now, not panicked or crying but close to something like it. It feels good to hold her like this, but it'd even better that she's holding him again.
Rosethorn holds on, not daring to say a word, as her breathing moves from tense to ragged to - slowly - back to even and slow. She doesn't pull away until her eyes stop stinging, until her heart stops threatening to pound its way out of her chest in anticipation of flashbacks that aren't coming.
Gyongxe stays in her head, quietly in the background, where it belongs. Tommy stays here, on the Barge, in this homey, comfortable room, where he belongs.
She sends her silent thanks to any and every god who might be listening.
"Back home, I'd let you. Or do it myself. If she weren't an inmate, Tommy..." She's almost more drained and shaken than angry. But she knows herself. The anger will come later, rising up from where it smolders in her bones.
"Violation is the right word. I've never felt so violated."
"The pieces of her that were left would be in the cut by now," he promises her, and he means it- here, he's the man she met during the flood. Completely ruthless, and he won't shy away from violence.
"And we can't do a fucking thing. We won't." And he doesn't know how to give it a place, now.
"We shouldn't. These people are in our care for a reason. We have to put them first." She says it quietly, flatly. Usually a sentiment she believes with all her heart, now only repeated so she can keep digging herself out of this hole without hurting anyone around her.
"Thank you, Tommy." She believes him, what he's willing to do for her.
She winces, resting her hand on the back of his head. Cradling him, because she's not sure how to comfort him otherwise. She can't even begin comforting herself.
She knows he means Grace.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could promise that it wouldn't happen again, but I can't even give you that much." Not on the Barge.
"I'm going to try to find ways to defend myself from attacks like this, in the future. But nothing... nothing can be certain, here."
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"Furiosa," he explains, his voice right with emotion.
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"It had to be T'Pol. She wouldn't, otherwise. I wouldn't." She swallows. "May I come in?" She doesn't want to do this out here, where anyone might see.
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"She found my memories. The worst ones - Gyongxe. And she tied you into every one. I couldn't even hear your name without feeling pulled back there." She sounds bitter, disgusted, apologetic all at once. Tommy doesn't belong there. Not in another war, worlds away.
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"It's a violation," he says, finally, because what else is there to say? He can't say he's sorry, because he did nothing, but he wishes it hadn't happened with all his being. That she can stand here and look at him now is already a gift.
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"I've never regretted killing someone before. That it had to be done at all, perhaps, but not the act itself. It's always been necessary-" And she's rambling. She looks down at her hand, rubbing her knuckles absently. "Thank the gods I didn't succeed. But that I even tried-"
She looks away, remembering the first time she came here. Trusting him with a blade at her throat as he helped her shave during her brief time as a man. "I'm so, so sorry, Tommy."
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"I forgive you. Please-- please."
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She breaths in shakily, pressing her face to his shoulder.
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Gyongxe stays in her head, quietly in the background, where it belongs. Tommy stays here, on the Barge, in this homey, comfortable room, where he belongs.
She sends her silent thanks to any and every god who might be listening.
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But he won't. He won't touch her, he won't hurt her.
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"Violation is the right word. I've never felt so violated."
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"And we can't do a fucking thing. We won't." And he doesn't know how to give it a place, now.
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"Thank you, Tommy." She believes him, what he's willing to do for her.
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She knows he means Grace.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could promise that it wouldn't happen again, but I can't even give you that much." Not on the Barge.
"I'm going to try to find ways to defend myself from attacks like this, in the future. But nothing... nothing can be certain, here."
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"If you want to stay here..." He'd like that.
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"I'll stay. For a while, just... for a while." For him. For her. Gods, she still wishes this were a nightmare that would vanish in the morning.