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AMY

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[ It feels like the snap of a puzzle piece being pressed into place, an image she's been able to picture in the abstract suddenly a little more concrete, a little better understood. It wasn't the fact of becoming a victim that changed things, or else he'd be having some version of this conversation with Rupert, too. There'd already been— something. Something, throughout the time he's been her trainer, through text exchanges she thinks they've both navigated like minefields.

(The question is: would he still feel this way about her, if he could see fully behind the veil? It's a question she asks herself, both more and less seriously, about all of the relationships she's formed since coming here.)

He hugs her, first. He takes her hand. And he looks right at her, not through her. In return, without protest: ] I— I understand.

[ Her fingers curl more tightly around his, her free hand rising to her face to wipe away the last of the tears that trail down her cheeks. ]

I'd try to do it for you, too. [ An address of the most important part of what he's said, to her, offered as she seems to steel herself. Anybody else and I wouldn't give a shit. ] You know that, right? If anything happened to you—

[ A sentiment that's more concrete, now, than when he'd texted her in the early hours of the morning and been unsure as to why she'd care if he was awake, if he was alright. ]

[scathe]

[in his mind, the two of them walk a tight-rope he's been reluctant to step toward (let alone on), but he secured it himself, and therefore can push her off whenever he wants. she's walking it regardless if he pushes her. that's the real securing; her trust in him to follow through with a promise, and her reciprocation in turn. elias isn't used to a confession like hers, filled to the brim with such raw honesty that it feels evocative in his core, and when she squeezes his hand and his eyes fall to their interlacing and up to her face, he is, in the knit of his brow, confused.]

Don't– no. Amy, don't, [he starts, stops. sighs, tilts his head back as though exasperation has flooded him so heavily he has to fight gravity from letting his focus find the floor instead. he hates these damn ceilings. i'd try to do it for you, too, but amy is fragile in ways he isn't, in ways he won't explain to her.] I get it, alright?

[elias is trouble and knows, lies like the air he breathes and isn't someone to expect anyone to exact revenge for. in comes amy with her promise, her care and worry and kindness, connection he stumbles over, the true appreciation of it hidden behind resistance, yet he won't let go of her hand.

she's a big girl and she's going to do whatever she wants but that won't stop him from lowering his gaze and telling her:]

Don't involve yourself in whatever mess I make.