[Which, in and of itself, is a novelty. These days ("these days"? it's been months since "these days"). Faith is used to having to be somewhere nearly all the time.
She is true to her word. The normalcy of getting breakfast ready for two is grounding, though not enough to quiet the discomfort in her chest. Sam's gone. Never thought she'd have to hear that, which is stupid. Of course there was always a chance they'd disappear. There's a chance they could disappear, apart from each other.
Shit. No. Faith's got to keep it together, for Kate's sake.]
( Kate gets there soon enough, looking - considering everything - no different than usual on first glance. but the little things are off: her hair is down, left unstyled, and the shirt she's wearing is several sizes too large and tucked into her jeans loosely.
it's stupid to be this upset, irrational. she has known this was a possibility from the moment she started kissing him. they would eventually be separated, whether it was now, randomly, or when someone figured out the door.
so why will the ache in her chest not stop? )
There still tea?
( and isn't that a rare thing to hear her ask. tea. not coffee. )
[It's not stupid or irrational to feel like that, to be dressed that way because grief clouds your mind.]
Yeh. [Faith sets a full mug down for Kate on the counter. To get her closer, so they don't have to talk about this too loudly, so it's not as harsh a reality yet.] Made breakfast too. Somethin' like eggs, somethin' like bacon.
( she'll take that invitation, slide into a chair and set the notebook in her hands down on the counter, somewhere close enough to grab if someone comes in but far enough away that she isn't immediately tempted to keep running her hands over the spirals and the cover, as if that could possibly-
Christ, she needs to get a grip. shake her head clear of the cobwebs.
(but she isn't running this time, isn't avoiding anything to do with him like she did with Marc, where his bedroom practically turned into a museum while she was still too scared to pack it all up and admit he was gone. admit she failed at protecting him.) )
In looks or taste? ( because here, those aren't always the same thing. and it's easier to snark at this place than it is to dive right into the issue at hand as she pushes her hair back out of her face and inhales.
get a grip, Galloway. Jesus. )
Woke up. Thought he'd gone t' get a drink or summat.
( well. it's Hadriel. they'll make do with what they can get. and if what they can get is a few minutes of peace and friendship, of Faith's ever-uncanny ability to be the right person to speak to (really, Kate tries to mimic this skill, but it always feels like it falls short. feels stiff and unnatural on her, while Faith just-
well, she shines with that kind of sincerity and care.)
- if that's what they can get, they'll have to make do with it. )
Looked around. He wasn't there. ( she wraps her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep through her skin before taking a sip and continuing. ) Checked th' network and his name wasn't there. ( she's picked these little things up, from others who've lost people, from the people she's lost before. they all seem to disappear off the network like they never existed.
it was stupid to have convinced herself that this wouldn't have been the case with Sam. )
[Faith hums thoughtfully, nodding. Immediately, she thinks it could happen to either of them. Immediately after that, she banishes the thought. She has to be here for Kate. There will be time later to think on what could be.]
Oh. Right. When you died, your name was still in me phone. [The words are quiet, as if saying it loud enough will make Kate the next one to go.
She sips at her tea, frowning a little.] I'm sorry he's gone, Kate.
[It's all she can offer for now, but she's thinking. Thinking, maybe there's a way to figure out the Door -- one that doesn't involve getting people killed. There's got to be a way. There's always a way.]
( Kate's thought about that, a lot. oddly, it never used to hurt as much when she thought about Faith leaving. she'd be back home, where she should be. Kate would survive. she always did. she never wanted any of the others to be here in the first place, never wanted them to deal with this-
but then she spoke with Hope, he explained that there'd be no guarantee of where they'd end up if he did open the door.
and if that's the case- would they even return home if they left? would they be plucked into another world, separated from each other?
that same thought, the one that's always been a well, that would be good. we'd see each other again, stings. (they might not. maybe she was just deluding herself with the idea, like she has with so many things.)
she doesn't really have an appetite, not right now, but now's the time for some sort of routine. to let as much feel as normal as possible. so she picks up a knife and fork and cuts into the bacon. )
It's- ( it's not fine, not at all. ) - Mean. Had to expect summat like this to happen. ( and she kept trying to remind herself of that, every month in which they got a little closer, spent far too long worrying over it when everything came to a head.
Kate chews on a piece of bacon for a minute longer than necessary, swallows and tilts her head back, aiming her words at the ceiling more than Faith. )
It was... easy, y'know? ( being with him, she means. ) Even th' first time we talked, felt comfortable.
( is that daft? she doesn't remember the last time she really hit it off so easily with someone. getting to know people always felt like a lot more work than it did with him, even if they didn't always - often - bring up the big things.
there was some odd little mutual understanding there that just. worked. )
Just cos it could happen doesn't mean you should've expected it, like there's no way it couldn't 'ave happened.
[Faith is not a big believer in destiny, in the inevitable. Especially the sad things. Death is the only exception, but this isn't about death. This is about this cave, about the Door.
About the man who managed to slip past Kate's defenses and make her feel like he belonged there.]
'M glad you got to have that with him. He's sweet, I like him.
[She almost says that they'll find him again, but she can't promise that, not when she's pretty sure it's beyond even a legend.]
( it's stupid. she likes to think she's not so sentimental, foolish as to get caught up in getting closer to people since the last member of her family died before her eyes. not to think that loss isn't inevitable, when their lives have already involved watching so many people leave.
(usually it is death. but are death and the Door that different when you live in different universes? if he goes back home, if it works properly, he's out of her life forever.
even if he goes somewhere else, it's not like he's about to turn up in her flat in LA, is it?
one way or another, this was all but inevitable, short of spending their entire lifespan here.)
another bite of breakfast. normal things. she can't let herself get too caught up in this, no matter how often her eyes drift to that notebook. soon she'll have to be working, have to be busy. there's a lot to do. longbow lessons to be had. something is bound to happen that'll make it too chaotic to ruminate on these feelings. )
'M just. ( she bites her tongue, bites down on the words for a moment, but-
well, this is her best friend, right? she can at least admit this much. can at least give this much of herself over to someone. she owes that much, not only to Faith, but to herself. )
Sick of this. ( of feeling like everyone she lets in too close is going to disappear one day, out of her life, for good. )
Yeah. [It's a whisper, spoken down into her teacup.
Faith gets it well enough, though she's not been through all that Kate has. It's like fighting so hard and losing so much isn't enough, like maybe they're suffering more so that others will suffer less. That kind of responsibility is fitting for a legend, even though Faith resents the thought, but Kate?
Kate can withstand a lot, but Faith wishes she didn't have to. Maybe if someone did studies on the psychology of phoenixes, they'd notice a certain mental resilience they develop as a consequence of being raised hearing stories about how grand you are or will be. Maybe that's prepared Faith for all of this madness, given her an advantage over Kate in that regard.
Or maybe not.
It doesn't matter either way, Faith thinks as she reaches out to put a hand over Kate's forearm. All that matters is this moment, that she's here for her friend.]
( or maybe losing people is exhausting no matter who you are, legend or not.
Kate glances away, down at the other side of the kitchen, doesn't pull her arm back. it's exhausting and neither of them should have to deal with it - Faith shouldn't have to carry the weight of could I have done something, to wonder if people are dead because she didn't do enough.
but even more than that, even more than the exhaustion of hope being dashed yet again, there's a dagger, a sharp point of fear that sears through her. this place has messed with her reality before, has brought about dreams and nightmares that are so real she was in a daze for days, has done so many things with the minds of people here-
could it make her forget him, like time has fuzzed out the details of her friends back home? would she wake up one day, trying to grasp for the sound of his voice, husky with sleep? would one of the gods decide that those memories were getting in the way of whatever emotion she's supposed to be providing them with this week?
it'd be easier. )
He was a shit dancer.
( it'd be easier, but she doesn't want to. she wants to make sure these things exist outside of herself, that someone else here knows they were real. forgetting it means forgetting genuine moments of happiness in a place that often feels like it's trying to crush that emotion entirely. )
[Faith laughs, quiet and light, like small windchimes.]
Course he was. Someone that tall, balance 'as got to be off when there's music on.
[If Kate wants to laugh, then Faith will help her. If Kate wants to cry, then Faith will let her. If Kate wants to reminisce, then she'll treasure the memories she's sharing as if they were hers too.]
( she doesn't really know what she wants, other than to not forget. to not let this be yet another excuse to avoid living. she's made too many of those excuses. i can't, i have to take care of Marc, help Faith, study. (i can't be distracted by the possibility of being hurt.)
so maybe it's best to look at the brighter things, the happier moments. most of them quiet, mundane times. watching a movie or texting through the night. having a drink at the bar. all so normal, so far removed from this place or so much of her life that they shine like the few stars that make it through the pollution of a city to hang in the night sky.
Faith's joke is enough to bring a quirk to Kate's lips. not quite a smile, but as close as one can get. )
Could be worse.
( it hurts. and she'll miss him. and she'll have to distract herself until the things that were becoming instinctive - contacting him, spending evenings together, expecting him to drop by the clinic - start to ebb their way out of her muscles and into her memories.
[It's true, and Faith would tell her so if she knew what she's thinking. Life's meant to be lived. An excuse isn't an excuse if it's what you really want to do, what you feel in your heart is the better choice, but most people will use anything as a way to let themselves think it's okay to give in to their fears and keep themselves from really living.
That's why Faith is the way she is. That's why she smiles in the face of all the sad and horrible things, why she fought as hard as she did and tried to tell anyone who would listen that the choice was theirs to make.
That's why she smiles now. Kate might not be able to, but Faith sure can.]
Yeh, it could. You enjoyed what you had, right? You went for it. Hurts now because it was real. That's somethin' to be glad for.
( it's hard to say anything, because she's not used to it. not used to talking at the same sort of length Faith can manage. once she was, once she could talk to anyone, was more like Faith than people would probably imagine.
but she never had that kind of resilience. never could bounce back after her parents were murdered.
never was the same person.
(maybe that's why, although Kate will never click to it, she likes Faith so much, even years ago when Faith was everything she thought was foolish in the world.)
she can't quite smile - her smiles are things rare enough as it is - and she can't quite find the words to express what needs to be said, so the only thing she comes out with is; )
Kick your arse if you tell anyone.
( she does have an image that was working for her. it doesn't need to be ruined by feelings. )
[Oh Kate. Forgive Faith a delighted laugh. And a quick breath in to (forcibly, dramatically) calm herself down and get serious. She straightens in her seat, holds up a hand, and nods.]
Promise I won't tell anyone.
[If it'll make Kate feel better, Faith's here for it.]
( good. Kate's cooking is so bland ok. There's a reason she mostly subsists on stir-frys back home. chuck a bunch of things in a wok, add soy sauce and be done with it.
she flinches a little at that description. spice was alright but there's way too much of it in that. )
Y'ever wonder if we'll get so used to this that home'll seem weird?
( her eyes wander to that notebook she lay down earlier and she wonders, just for a moment, how Sam's taking his return home. how strange is being in the open air again, back in your life as if nothing ever happened? as if you didn't spend months as food for Gods and meet people and-
care for them.
is that even what happens? Faith turned up from the same time of year that Kate left, months before, but is that the way it works, or just a fluke? are things moving on back home without them? did things move on without him, and he's back a year later without any explanation? )
[Look, Faith's not great at cooking, but she can manage!
She frowns thoughtfully as she sips at her tea. What a good question.]
Mm, well... prob'ly. Though that just means that home'll feel all new again. New and familiar. Wonder what that's like!
[The notebook. She's definitely noticed it, but she doesn't want to pry, wants to let Kate deal with it however she likes. For now, anyway.
She's wondered about that too. If life's going on without them, if people know they're gone. She didn't know Kate was gone, but would she have, in another month or two? Is anyone missing them?
As long as no one's rebuilding Rosenberg's legacy, it doesn't really matter, Faith supposes, except in that the people that care about them will be grieving for their unexplained loss.
What a sad thought. Better to think they'll be living more fully in memory of them.]
( honestly, she'd thought about dropping it in the lake, asking Faith to burn it. something, anything to get rid of it. forget. that's always her first instinct. bury it, as deep as possible. pretend it never happened.
the urge to remember, to share her happiness, as brief as it might have been in the grand scheme of things, only came when she got here, spreading from the centre of her chest, warm and familiar.
(you can lose anyone, at any moment. maybe she's never approached that fact in the right way.)
so she doesn't bother asking. leaves the notebook untouched. a little reminder of the fact that he was here - even if the gods make them forget everything, maybe that will still exist. a tangible little thing that means her memories are more than ultra-vivid dreams, like those they had months ago. )
Don't think I got used enough to LA to have it feel familiar.
( although, maybe she has something of an idea for what that must feel like, after leaving the UK. but she's only been in LA a month. )
[As if it's that easy. Faith knows it's not, but it's so simplistic that it might at least help Kate along in the immediate aftermath of Sam's disappearance.]
Or, you make LA an adventure all over again.
[And you never, ever forget what got you to where you are.]
Better weather in LA. ( it's a half-hearted joke, but one that remains true. Kate's always preferred the sun to the rain and the cold, where she can more easily run.
and she couldn't leave even if she wanted to. can't just let the clinic stand alone a month after its inception, not deliberately. Jon may be able to do her job, but he shouldn't have to. he's not properly trained for it, like she's not properly trained to heal people.
and honestly? Kate couldn't forget how she got here if she tried. she would love to, to forget the mistakes in her past and pretend that she and Faith met in a much nicer way, that Marc's death wasn't her own failing... but she can't. the memories are burned into each of her cells, unable to be forgotten. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Which, in and of itself, is a novelty. These days ("these days"? it's been months since "these days"). Faith is used to having to be somewhere nearly all the time.
She is true to her word. The normalcy of getting breakfast ready for two is grounding, though not enough to quiet the discomfort in her chest. Sam's gone. Never thought she'd have to hear that, which is stupid. Of course there was always a chance they'd disappear. There's a chance they could disappear, apart from each other.
Shit. No. Faith's got to keep it together, for Kate's sake.]
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it's stupid to be this upset, irrational. she has known this was a possibility from the moment she started kissing him. they would eventually be separated, whether it was now, randomly, or when someone figured out the door.
so why will the ache in her chest not stop? )
There still tea?
( and isn't that a rare thing to hear her ask. tea. not coffee. )
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Yeh. [Faith sets a full mug down for Kate on the counter. To get her closer, so they don't have to talk about this too loudly, so it's not as harsh a reality yet.] Made breakfast too. Somethin' like eggs, somethin' like bacon.
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Christ, she needs to get a grip. shake her head clear of the cobwebs.
(but she isn't running this time, isn't avoiding anything to do with him like she did with Marc, where his bedroom practically turned into a museum while she was still too scared to pack it all up and admit he was gone. admit she failed at protecting him.) )
In looks or taste? ( because here, those aren't always the same thing. and it's easier to snark at this place than it is to dive right into the issue at hand as she pushes her hair back out of her face and inhales.
get a grip, Galloway. Jesus. )
Woke up. Thought he'd gone t' get a drink or summat.
( but no. )
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She gets a plate and serves Kate some of the food, setting it in front of her as Faith takes the seat across from her.
There's no judgment in Faith's gaze or voice or posture, only compassion, warmth.]
How'd you figure out what happened?
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well, she shines with that kind of sincerity and care.)
- if that's what they can get, they'll have to make do with it. )
Looked around. He wasn't there. ( she wraps her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep through her skin before taking a sip and continuing. ) Checked th' network and his name wasn't there. ( she's picked these little things up, from others who've lost people, from the people she's lost before. they all seem to disappear off the network like they never existed.
it was stupid to have convinced herself that this wouldn't have been the case with Sam. )
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Oh. Right. When you died, your name was still in me phone. [The words are quiet, as if saying it loud enough will make Kate the next one to go.
She sips at her tea, frowning a little.] I'm sorry he's gone, Kate.
[It's all she can offer for now, but she's thinking. Thinking, maybe there's a way to figure out the Door -- one that doesn't involve getting people killed. There's got to be a way. There's always a way.]
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but then she spoke with Hope, he explained that there'd be no guarantee of where they'd end up if he did open the door.
and if that's the case- would they even return home if they left? would they be plucked into another world, separated from each other?
that same thought, the one that's always been a well, that would be good. we'd see each other again, stings. (they might not. maybe she was just deluding herself with the idea, like she has with so many things.)
she doesn't really have an appetite, not right now, but now's the time for some sort of routine. to let as much feel as normal as possible. so she picks up a knife and fork and cuts into the bacon. )
It's- ( it's not fine, not at all. ) - Mean. Had to expect summat like this to happen. ( and she kept trying to remind herself of that, every month in which they got a little closer, spent far too long worrying over it when everything came to a head.
Kate chews on a piece of bacon for a minute longer than necessary, swallows and tilts her head back, aiming her words at the ceiling more than Faith. )
It was... easy, y'know? ( being with him, she means. ) Even th' first time we talked, felt comfortable.
( is that daft? she doesn't remember the last time she really hit it off so easily with someone. getting to know people always felt like a lot more work than it did with him, even if they didn't always - often - bring up the big things.
there was some odd little mutual understanding there that just. worked. )
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[Faith is not a big believer in destiny, in the inevitable. Especially the sad things. Death is the only exception, but this isn't about death. This is about this cave, about the Door.
About the man who managed to slip past Kate's defenses and make her feel like he belonged there.]
'M glad you got to have that with him. He's sweet, I like him.
[She almost says that they'll find him again, but she can't promise that, not when she's pretty sure it's beyond even a legend.]
He misses you too, y'know?
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(usually it is death. but are death and the Door that different when you live in different universes? if he goes back home, if it works properly, he's out of her life forever.
even if he goes somewhere else, it's not like he's about to turn up in her flat in LA, is it?
one way or another, this was all but inevitable, short of spending their entire lifespan here.)
another bite of breakfast. normal things. she can't let herself get too caught up in this, no matter how often her eyes drift to that notebook. soon she'll have to be working, have to be busy. there's a lot to do. longbow lessons to be had. something is bound to happen that'll make it too chaotic to ruminate on these feelings. )
'M just. ( she bites her tongue, bites down on the words for a moment, but-
well, this is her best friend, right? she can at least admit this much. can at least give this much of herself over to someone. she owes that much, not only to Faith, but to herself. )
Sick of this. ( of feeling like everyone she lets in too close is going to disappear one day, out of her life, for good. )
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Faith gets it well enough, though she's not been through all that Kate has. It's like fighting so hard and losing so much isn't enough, like maybe they're suffering more so that others will suffer less. That kind of responsibility is fitting for a legend, even though Faith resents the thought, but Kate?
Kate can withstand a lot, but Faith wishes she didn't have to. Maybe if someone did studies on the psychology of phoenixes, they'd notice a certain mental resilience they develop as a consequence of being raised hearing stories about how grand you are or will be. Maybe that's prepared Faith for all of this madness, given her an advantage over Kate in that regard.
Or maybe not.
It doesn't matter either way, Faith thinks as she reaches out to put a hand over Kate's forearm. All that matters is this moment, that she's here for her friend.]
I know.
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Kate glances away, down at the other side of the kitchen, doesn't pull her arm back. it's exhausting and neither of them should have to deal with it - Faith shouldn't have to carry the weight of could I have done something, to wonder if people are dead because she didn't do enough.
but even more than that, even more than the exhaustion of hope being dashed yet again, there's a dagger, a sharp point of fear that sears through her. this place has messed with her reality before, has brought about dreams and nightmares that are so real she was in a daze for days, has done so many things with the minds of people here-
could it make her forget him, like time has fuzzed out the details of her friends back home? would she wake up one day, trying to grasp for the sound of his voice, husky with sleep? would one of the gods decide that those memories were getting in the way of whatever emotion she's supposed to be providing them with this week?
it'd be easier. )
He was a shit dancer.
( it'd be easier, but she doesn't want to. she wants to make sure these things exist outside of herself, that someone else here knows they were real. forgetting it means forgetting genuine moments of happiness in a place that often feels like it's trying to crush that emotion entirely. )
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Course he was. Someone that tall, balance 'as got to be off when there's music on.
[If Kate wants to laugh, then Faith will help her. If Kate wants to cry, then Faith will let her. If Kate wants to reminisce, then she'll treasure the memories she's sharing as if they were hers too.]
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so maybe it's best to look at the brighter things, the happier moments. most of them quiet, mundane times. watching a movie or texting through the night. having a drink at the bar. all so normal, so far removed from this place or so much of her life that they shine like the few stars that make it through the pollution of a city to hang in the night sky.
Faith's joke is enough to bring a quirk to Kate's lips. not quite a smile, but as close as one can get. )
Could be worse.
( it hurts. and she'll miss him. and she'll have to distract herself until the things that were becoming instinctive - contacting him, spending evenings together, expecting him to drop by the clinic - start to ebb their way out of her muscles and into her memories.
but it could be worse. )
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That's why Faith is the way she is. That's why she smiles in the face of all the sad and horrible things, why she fought as hard as she did and tried to tell anyone who would listen that the choice was theirs to make.
That's why she smiles now. Kate might not be able to, but Faith sure can.]
Yeh, it could. You enjoyed what you had, right? You went for it. Hurts now because it was real. That's somethin' to be glad for.
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but she never had that kind of resilience. never could bounce back after her parents were murdered.
never was the same person.
(maybe that's why, although Kate will never click to it, she likes Faith so much, even years ago when Faith was everything she thought was foolish in the world.)
she can't quite smile - her smiles are things rare enough as it is - and she can't quite find the words to express what needs to be said, so the only thing she comes out with is; )
Kick your arse if you tell anyone.
( she does have an image that was working for her. it doesn't need to be ruined by feelings. )
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Promise I won't tell anyone.
[If it'll make Kate feel better, Faith's here for it.]
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so, instead of talking any more about it, Kate nibbles on a bit of the egg before saying anything more. )
'S not bad.
( weird, because she's not expecting egg to taste like that, but actually. edible. Faith, you're in charge of cooking here y/y? )
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Right? Not bad for... dunno, whatever it is.
[Sure. Something to do. It's fun!]
Tried somehin' else before this, tasted like... fifteen chili peppers in every bite.
[She makes a face. Gross.]
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she flinches a little at that description. spice was alright but there's way too much of it in that. )
Y'ever wonder if we'll get so used to this that home'll seem weird?
( her eyes wander to that notebook she lay down earlier and she wonders, just for a moment, how Sam's taking his return home. how strange is being in the open air again, back in your life as if nothing ever happened? as if you didn't spend months as food for Gods and meet people and-
care for them.
is that even what happens? Faith turned up from the same time of year that Kate left, months before, but is that the way it works, or just a fluke? are things moving on back home without them? did things move on without him, and he's back a year later without any explanation? )
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She frowns thoughtfully as she sips at her tea. What a good question.]
Mm, well... prob'ly. Though that just means that home'll feel all new again. New and familiar. Wonder what that's like!
[The notebook. She's definitely noticed it, but she doesn't want to pry, wants to let Kate deal with it however she likes. For now, anyway.
She's wondered about that too. If life's going on without them, if people know they're gone. She didn't know Kate was gone, but would she have, in another month or two? Is anyone missing them?
As long as no one's rebuilding Rosenberg's legacy, it doesn't really matter, Faith supposes, except in that the people that care about them will be grieving for their unexplained loss.
What a sad thought. Better to think they'll be living more fully in memory of them.]
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the urge to remember, to share her happiness, as brief as it might have been in the grand scheme of things, only came when she got here, spreading from the centre of her chest, warm and familiar.
(you can lose anyone, at any moment. maybe she's never approached that fact in the right way.)
so she doesn't bother asking. leaves the notebook untouched. a little reminder of the fact that he was here - even if the gods make them forget everything, maybe that will still exist. a tangible little thing that means her memories are more than ultra-vivid dreams, like those they had months ago. )
Don't think I got used enough to LA to have it feel familiar.
( although, maybe she has something of an idea for what that must feel like, after leaving the UK. but she's only been in LA a month. )
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[As if it's that easy. Faith knows it's not, but it's so simplistic that it might at least help Kate along in the immediate aftermath of Sam's disappearance.]
Or, you make LA an adventure all over again.
[And you never, ever forget what got you to where you are.]
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and she couldn't leave even if she wanted to. can't just let the clinic stand alone a month after its inception, not deliberately. Jon may be able to do her job, but he shouldn't have to. he's not properly trained for it, like she's not properly trained to heal people.
and honestly? Kate couldn't forget how she got here if she tried. she would love to, to forget the mistakes in her past and pretend that she and Faith met in a much nicer way, that Marc's death wasn't her own failing... but she can't. the memories are burned into each of her cells, unable to be forgotten. )
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[Yeah. None of what they've been through is something you just forget.]
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