[Lisbeth's kneejerk reaction is to say that he has nothing to be sorry for, but some little voice inside tells her to shut up. Everything he says is true, as much as it hurts her to admit it. Lisbeth felt the need to pick him up, dust him off, and keep him going. She even felt that if she didn't keep an eye on him, he would get himself killed.
Barring what happened last month, of course.
It's been a co-dependent relationship, mostly on her part. The need to control because that's what she understood as being loving. The control wasn't anything malicious - she didn't alienate him, she didn't hit him. Lisbeth doesn't care much when it comes to people, but she cared too much when it came to him.
He's also apologizing for hurting her and no one has ever done that. Even if whatever he's done doesn't compare in the slightest to what other men have done to her, it's still an apology.
[Jesse brings his hands together, almost as if in prayer, and bows his head. The next words are breathed with a sigh of relief:]
Thank you.
[He steps forward and reaches out, not to embrace her (though he wants to, very badly) but to gently cup her face and brush his palms over her cheeks.]
[As prickly as she may be most of the time and at that moment, her shoulders visibly relax when Jesse touches her face. She covers one of his hands with her own.]
It doesn't get any warmer than four degrees Celcius, I actually have to do manual labor to heat the house, and the coffee tastes like shit.
[She turns her head slightly to smile gently into his hand.]
[Jesse lets out a laugh. Not a derisive or scoffing laugh, but softer, like there's deeply comforting about what she just said. Because if those are the worst of her problems, then everything's alright here.]
[He laughs again. And god, it feels good. He hopes he doesn't wake up from this, doesn't blink and find himself in the meth lab again or down in his cell.]
[Lisbeth laughs again. It's good to hear him laugh, to hear his laugh. The house has been quiet ever since they moved in. Anne and Max talk most of the time, Lisbeth just listens. She'd participate if she had a thought on the subject, but that was rare.
Her ears turn red at his suggestion.]
I only like large crowds if there's loud music and alcohol.
[She's really not used to being called cute. Cute to her meant fragility, non-threatening and she tried her hardest to seem opposite of all those things. But his compliment only further fuels her embarrassment and her blush only gets worse.]
You know you're the only person who can get away with calling me that.
[He shouldn't. She's feeling vulnerable and guilty and he shouldn't take advantage of that. Before he died, she was revolted by him. Sooner or later, it'll come back to her and she'll remember what people said about him and what it means and she'll hate him even more.
But he also can't resist an invitation to warmth and affection. After everything... God, it means so much just to be touched with gentleness. He eases closer, his smile fading into a soft sort of melancholy. He has a lot to say, but he doesn't want to start. It's written on him, though, with a look like that in his eyes.]
[Her smile is somewhat opposite of his, but she could feel something different. Lisbeth is unused to the look in his eye - as much as she's been through, she's never shared it with anyone because she's never felt that burden on her chest. That doesn't mean she doesn't actively avoid talking about those years, but from what she knows about his home, she proceeds cautiously.]
I'm not really good at reading people, but I've heard what home was like for you so if you want to tell me about whatever happened this time, you can when you feel comfortable.
There's some things I don't talk about from my home so I'd understand.
[Nor is he kidding himself about a time when any of this will feel comfortable. If anything, it'll only get harder to talk about the longer he waits. The more it fades into the background as part of some other life, only to jump up every now and then and grab hold of him unexpectedly, send him reeling. No, he should talk about it now. Then she won't be taken by surprise when he loses his mind later.]
It was all... so much worse than I ever expected.
Did you even think that'd be possible? Everybody here always acted like he wasn't... Like he wasn't anything. Like he was somebody you could just take out, get rid of, no problem.
[Lisbeth listens carefully. She's been one of the lucky ones - she's never gone home once while she was staying in either Siren's or Exsilium except for that brief moment when one world ended. Even then, she's pretty sure she relived that same year over again.
[Jesse nods. He's sure he doesn't know everything about her father, but from what she's let slip, he bets she knows exactly what he means.
God help him if he ever finds out her father put her through what Walter White put him through. He shudders, unwittingly leaning closer to her as if being in her orbit will steady his gravity somehow.]
He was gonna execute me. Straight-up, on my knees, bullet to the head.
But he changed his mind. Gave me to his gang to torture me instead. They locked me up in a cell and now I'm their slave, I guess. 'til they decide to finish me.
[Lisbeth noticeably grips Jesse's elbows tightly as he describes what's happened to him at home. It resonates deeply with her - too deeply. She wants nothing more than to jump on a transport pad to Albuquerque, find the bastard, and stab him repeatedly in the face.
Everyone would do well without him: Skyler, Mike, Saul, and Jesse. Especially Jesse.
[He hates that she's talking like she knows. He doesn't want her to know what it's like. Please let her not know.]
I don't think it will end. I don't think I can get away. I don't even know if I'm really here right now or if it's just... If I just need to be somewhere. Somewhere it's not happening. For a while.
[She thinks she knows what he means. That he's really in his cell and all this is just his imagination, his "happy" place as those shrinks call it. Lisbeth doesn't want him to go around thinking that this all could fall apart in some sick simulation brought on by beatings, chains, whatever the hell they had him in.
[She readily grabs his hand in return. With his hand, she pulls him closer and takes a step to meet him in the middle. Lisbeth wraps her arms around him in a hug. She wants to tell him that it'll all be okay. That she's gone through it and she's made it.
But she's made a promise to herself never to tell him. Not out of shame, but out of concern about his reaction. Unless something one day forces her to confront it, it would be kept locked up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Barring what happened last month, of course.
It's been a co-dependent relationship, mostly on her part. The need to control because that's what she understood as being loving. The control wasn't anything malicious - she didn't alienate him, she didn't hit him. Lisbeth doesn't care much when it comes to people, but she cared too much when it came to him.
He's also apologizing for hurting her and no one has ever done that. Even if whatever he's done doesn't compare in the slightest to what other men have done to her, it's still an apology.
Lisbeth looks up at him and then nods.]
Okay. Then let's start over.
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Thank you.
[He steps forward and reaches out, not to embrace her (though he wants to, very badly) but to gently cup her face and brush his palms over her cheeks.]
Are you okay?
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It doesn't get any warmer than four degrees Celcius, I actually have to do manual labor to heat the house, and the coffee tastes like shit.
[She turns her head slightly to smile gently into his hand.]
I'm doing horribly.
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I thought Swedish people liked the cold.
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This winter wonderland is a little excessive, but my grayscale wardrobe doesn't look out place. That's a silver lining.
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Did you just make a pun on purpose or by accident?
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[She quickly thinks back on what she said.]
Oh fuck me.
[She laughs, embarrassed, and uses his hands to cover her face.]
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You oughta become a comedian.
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Her ears turn red at his suggestion.]
I only like large crowds if there's loud music and alcohol.
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[His hands slip back down, thumbs tracing her cheeks.]
You're cute when you blush.
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You know you're the only person who can get away with calling me that.
[Her hands slide down the length of his forearm.]
You can move closer if you want.
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But he also can't resist an invitation to warmth and affection. After everything... God, it means so much just to be touched with gentleness. He eases closer, his smile fading into a soft sort of melancholy. He has a lot to say, but he doesn't want to start. It's written on him, though, with a look like that in his eyes.]
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I'm not really good at reading people, but I've heard what home was like for you so if you want to tell me about whatever happened this time, you can when you feel comfortable.
There's some things I don't talk about from my home so I'd understand.
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[Nor is he kidding himself about a time when any of this will feel comfortable. If anything, it'll only get harder to talk about the longer he waits. The more it fades into the background as part of some other life, only to jump up every now and then and grab hold of him unexpectedly, send him reeling. No, he should talk about it now. Then she won't be taken by surprise when he loses his mind later.]
It was all... so much worse than I ever expected.
Did you even think that'd be possible? Everybody here always acted like he wasn't... Like he wasn't anything. Like he was somebody you could just take out, get rid of, no problem.
But he's so -
[Jesse's voice catches and he swallows.]
He's so evil.
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Still...]
So evil that he's somehow immortal. Invincible.
[She chews on the inside of her bottom lip.]
My father's like that.
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God help him if he ever finds out her father put her through what Walter White put him through. He shudders, unwittingly leaning closer to her as if being in her orbit will steady his gravity somehow.]
He was gonna execute me. Straight-up, on my knees, bullet to the head.
But he changed his mind. Gave me to his gang to torture me instead. They locked me up in a cell and now I'm their slave, I guess. 'til they decide to finish me.
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Everyone would do well without him: Skyler, Mike, Saul, and Jesse. Especially Jesse.
She eases her grip.]
Torture's worse.
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[His voice is so tight and quiet that it might as well be a whisper.]
Yeah, I never even knew I could feel that kinda pain. Like they invented a special hell just for me.
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It's bad when it's happening. You don't know when it's going to end, but it does. Then you pick up your pieces and go on.
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I don't think it will end. I don't think I can get away. I don't even know if I'm really here right now or if it's just... If I just need to be somewhere. Somewhere it's not happening. For a while.
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She pinches his skin right above his elbow.]
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Does that ever really work?
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But you're really here. None of this is fake. This isn't you blocking out what's happening in New Mexico.
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[He has to.
He reaches for her hand, curling his fingers around it and hoping she doesn't pull away.]
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But she's made a promise to herself never to tell him. Not out of shame, but out of concern about his reaction. Unless something one day forces her to confront it, it would be kept locked up.
Instead, all she can do is hug him tightly.]
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