stilljustandrew | (no subject)

(no subject)

[After this.]

*The door to the room opens, and closes again quietly.*

Jonathan?

*Andrew's standing just inside the door, perfectly still, his hands hanging loose and empty by his sides. His face is quite calm, and he appears not to notice the water brimming in his eyes.*

I think I'm ready to talk about it now.

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Jonathan sits up sharply, and his half-smile of greeting disappears entirely at the note in Andrew's voice and the all-too-visible tears.

"Okay."

*He moves closer, sits down heavily on the end of his bed, and starts to struggle out of his jacket.*

It was --

it's complicated.

"I've got time", is the quiet answer, the only encouragement before he falls silent again, listening.

*The jacket's puddled on the bed behind him.*

*Andrew draws a breath.*

Meg and I just broke up.

"...oh."

He's not quite sure what to say to that. It's not quite unexpected, but on another level, it really, really is.

And it isn't --

*His face is crumpling slowly.*

I never wanted --

"I know", Jonathan says quickly, not even sure what he's saying he knows, but anything to get that look off Andrew's face.

*That look's not going away just yet, but Andrew's bringing up a hand to cover it. If that helps at all.*

Not so much. He feels even worse now than in their non-argument before.

"Andrew..."

I got over it.

*It's a confession. He lowers his hand and looks up at Jonathan, tears streaking his face.*

I got over her being dead.

"...would it really have been better if you never had?"

Better for Andrew, he means.

*shaking his head* I don't know. I don't know.

It just, it feels like -- it feels like I let her be dead.

"And what else could you have done, in the end?"

*He looks up, and his voice gains a touch of strength.*

I didn't give up on you when you were dead.

"I wanted to be brought back."

His voice isn't as harsh as the words... but it needed saying.

...yeah.

And so did Warren.

"And if Meg wanted that, she'd have said so, or done something about it, a long time ago. In Milliways, she'd probably even have got it."

She didn't. She never did.

We fought about that once.

"There you go. You didn't kill her, Andrew, and there was nothing you could do to stop her dying. And she didn't want anything done to change it, after she died. It was never about letting her be dead."

*A tiny painful smile.*

That's what she said, too. But it still, it still feels like --

like I betrayed her. By getting over it.

*His gaze falls again.*

I guess that doesn't make any sense.

"Doesn't have to", Jonathan says quietly. "Except to you. But it isn't something you should feel guilty for... it's just what happens." He pauses. "If she'd died and not come back, would you have expected to never get over it?"

*A long pause.*

That'd be different.

"Why?"

Gentle, but persistent.

I don't know.

Jonathan thinks he does.

"Because she was right there. Because you could forget anything was different. But Andrew, it was different. She knew that, and so did you... the only thing changing now is you're done grieving. You haven't betrayed anyone."

*--and it's Jonathan saying that. Jonathan who more than anybody else has reason to know him capable of betrayal.*

*Jonathan who forgave him.*

*Andrew draws in breath like a sob and rubs a hand over his eyes, hard.*

"It's going to be okay."

And he really believes it. Maybe not right now, but it will be.

I hope so.

'm sorry I didn't ... before.

"It's okay. Couldn't until you were ready."

*He mumbles something else, too low to hear.*

Jonathan frowns slightly, swinging his feet to the floor to get up and move closer.

"Huh?"

I said thanks.

*Andrew looks up at Jonathan.*

For ... for being here.

"Where else would I be?"

It's not as flip as it might sound.

*It's really, really not.*

*Andrew reaches out, and hugs him hard.*

Jonathan blinks for half a second, startled, but then just hugs him back.

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