As those words wash over her, she can't stop the feelings of dread and apprehension that accompany them. They shouldn't carry that kind of weight, but they do and she is so glad that he can't see her face right now. She closes her eyes tight and breathes in his scent as she holds him close. If she lets go, he might not be there when she opens her eyes.
"It's okay," she murmurs and runs her hand through his hair. "You're not doing this alone."
"And you never had to do it alone for as long as you did." She probably had to. How much time did she spend trying to find him? But why did she never seem to stay once she did? Would he have been more likely to believe her if the news came from her?
Too many what if scenarios, and they're all fucking bullshit. He's had enough of that for a couple hundred lifetimes, thanks.
"It doesn't matter now." She kisses the side of his head and pulls back just enough to look in his eyes. "This place is bullshit, but at least we're alive and together."
He wishes it didn't matter. It doesn't, and he knows it doesn't, that he just needs to accept everything and move on, but that's not so simple right now. It's important to him right now, so it matters. He can't make it not matter in this moment.
It takes a few iterations of Church to learn how to let go. It was never this one.
But for now: "Yeah. We are. Hey, this place isn't so bad. We have bodies. Really nice bodies. And we're not stuck in a canyon. Or the Meta's head."
She lets out a small sigh of relief. She doesn't know what's bubbling under the surface, but maybe he's finally settling down. She cups his cheek and strokes gently with her thumb.
"It's bad, but it's a little better than what we left."
An actual, genuine smile shyly appears on his face, exhausted but there when he leans in for a small kiss. "Thanks for trying to unfuck my head. Maybe I'm just fighting an errant line of code plugged into my head or whatever, but--thanks. For putting up with me." His head might be swimming in distracting thoughts and memories, but she is his lifeline.
He has to wonder just how long she's been that for him without him knowing.
"I like it better when your head isn't a jumbled mess," she teases and lowers her hand to rest on his shoulder. "I can listen when you need it, just don't go spreading it around. I have a reputation to maintain."
"You have full permission to be your normal, angry, why-the-fuck-is-she-with-him self in public. Who wants to know about all the soft cuddly bits? Gross."
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"It's okay," she murmurs and runs her hand through his hair. "You're not doing this alone."
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Too many what if scenarios, and they're all fucking bullshit. He's had enough of that for a couple hundred lifetimes, thanks.
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It takes a few iterations of Church to learn how to let go. It was never this one.
But for now: "Yeah. We are. Hey, this place isn't so bad. We have bodies. Really nice bodies. And we're not stuck in a canyon. Or the Meta's head."
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"It's bad, but it's a little better than what we left."
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He has to wonder just how long she's been that for him without him knowing.
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