tucky | ♻ 019

Saved himself. I just got bossy.

[It's not entirely self-deprecating, just honest.]

Monsters. One damn near took my arm off. Would've jumped my shit.

He stopped it, then healed me.

[She smiles again.]

He did good, then. He was always working, whenever I went into the infirmary - always helping people. He was being real selfless.

[Him leading by example had been a big part of why she'd wanted to help so much, too - doing her supply runs, or finding wounded people to bring back.]

... You die, in that?

He did.

I didn't. 'Cause of him. I never forgot that.

Yeah, you never do, do you? I'm always gonna remember that he saved my life during that breach. He gave his life for me. And Mason saved me during the monsters, too.

[She shudders, just a little - because thinking about Mason saving her makes her think about how he'd been attacked in the process, and that memory is still hard on her.]

[Letty listens while she finishes the water; she ends up keeping the empty glass in her hand rather than reaching out again to put it down, rubbing one fingertip along the top. She lets her eyes drift partially closed, and stays quiet and still for a few long moments after Tiffany finishes.

She speaks more quietly when she replies, her voice fractionally smoother at that volume, still rasped.]

Worst part.

I was alone. Both times. Does that make me selfish?

Why would it?

Wanting someone else there.

To see it. Maybe get hurt too. Just so I don't have to die alone.

Dying alone would suck. It sucked during the breach, even though that weren't really me.

I liked not being alone when I died in the laundry room. Getting touched after, getting my face kissed.

I hope if it ever happens to you again you don't have to be alone, Letty.

...I'm glad you weren't alone.

[She shifts a little, brings her free hand up to pat the back of Tiffany's on her knee.]

Stay a while?

Yeah.

I'll stay as long as you want.

Thank you. I...

Thank you.

I feel like I got an engine block dropped on my head.

... Do you wanna talk about what happened? How he did it?

You sure you want in the middle of that?

He's your friend.

So are you.

[And though it's true that she's a lot closer to Roderick than she is to Letty, she feels like she should know - because of that closeness, not in spite of it.]

And if I'm gonna be friends with someone I don't wanna lie to myself about them.

Yeah, we're friends, but he's the kind of friend to you that's still important after you find out he's a goddamn psychopath.

[She can't help the way her voice turns ugly, turns bitter; she doesn't try. Anyone that expects her to be happy about what happened, or forgiving this soon after all this bullshit, has got a brand new view on life headed their way.]

[She flinches.]

I'm not saying I blame you. Or blame Lloyd, for going after him. He deserved it.

I didn't do anything, Tiffany.

I didn't do anything to him.

[Anger has ever been closer to Letty's heart than fear; she can feel it now, simmering under everything else, and she meant what she said earlier about letting Tiffany decide how much is too much, but it's all she can do to lean on it slow.]

I know. He's fucked up. He's... he's fucked up worse than almost anybody I ever known, I think.

I'm sorry.

Stop apologizing. It's not your fault.

And I get it. Alright? I do.

But I don't think you need this shit on that love you got for him, too. Not anymore than you already have anyway.

I think if you love somebody and they do bad shit - awful, terrible shit - it ain't right to ignore it.

I don't think I should ignore it and pretend like it didn't happen, and I don't think I should abandon him, neither. I am a warden. I ain't his warden, but I think I should help him.

I get it.

I wanna help you, too. Because you are my friend, Letty, and if you think I wouldn't wanna help you even if you did something bad, you're wrong.

[If she had a clearer mind, more energy, if she hurt less, Letty is sure she'd be able to sort out how much of the pressure being barely held in by her skull and her ribs is anger, how much is frustration, and how much is something completely different. She could probably even figure out why.

As it is, she lifts one hand to rub the corners of her eyes, because she doesn't even know where to start with this. The thought of trying kind of makes her feel nauseous and lightheaded and, inexplicably, like maybe she might cry after all.

She swallows, and does it anyway, keeping her voice as level as she can.]

I'd stolen a car. Crashed it. Piece of shit plastic toy...

I was okay, about to take off on foot, saw him. He waved me after him and I knew him, so I went. Said he had a room in the building we ended up in. Said I could lay low, till the cops were gone.

I said I'd clean up, then go. I did, but when I went to leave, he pulled out a goddamn crowbar and blocked me in.

...I need more water for this shit.

[Wordlessly, Tiffany gets up and goes to the bathroom, filling the cup from the tap. When she returns, she hands it to Letty, and sits back down.]

[Letty accepts it wordlessly, takes her time draining the whole thing. She knows it's not dryness that's hurting her throat. She knows what it is. Mind over matter, right?

The longer she talks, the more detached she sounds.]

I fought back. Locked myself in the bathroom, went after him with the lid off the toilet, the curtain rod, anything I could reach. But he's a lot stronger, and he was enjoying it.

I thought I could still win, even after he hit me in the head a couple times.

Didn't turn out that way. He just never stopped.

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