[reverse darkest timeline AU: cellthread #3]

[stilljustandrew]

It's been about two days.

Nobody's come for him.



Andrew's lying down, staring at the far wall.

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[stilljustandrew]

"Water," he mumbles, "please."

A clear plastic carafe of water and two matching tumblers materialize out of the air, on the floor next to Brix.

[gothamsheiress]

She rises from her chair and settles kneeling on the floor, pours a cup of water for Andrew, hands it up to him.

[stilljustandrew]

He takes it without quite looking at her, holding the cup in both hands like a tired child, and takes a sip.

The sip turns into a gulp, and he doesn't take a breath for another several swallows, almost draining the cup.

[gothamsheiress]

She's started to pour herself a cup, as well -- but she pauses, holding the jug, and waits for him to take a breath instead.

"More?"

[stilljustandrew]

He nods, silently, and after a beat remembers to hold out the cup.

[gothamsheiress]

Smiling faintly, she refills his cup, then pours herself one as well.

The cell is quiet, for a moment or two. Brix's gaze is unfocused, resting on nothing in the middle distance, but she remains acutely aware of Andrew's breathing.

[stilljustandrew]

It's slow and deep, and only a little uneven.

He drinks the second cup of water slowly, trying to make it last.

[gothamsheiress]

She waits until he's finished to speak again.

First things first: "How are you feeling?"

[stilljustandrew]

He takes another breath.

"Better," he says slowly, "I think. A little better."

A pause, and a touch lower: "And worse. At the same time. I don't know if that makes any sense."

[gothamsheiress]

"It does." She gives him a sad smile. "Healing is a painful process."

[stilljustandrew]

He bites his lip.

"Is that what we're doing?"

[gothamsheiress]

"I truly hope so," she says, her smile fading away. "Would you call it something else?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I don't know."

He rubs at his eyes, not to wipe away tears but as though they're starting to hurt.

[gothamsheiress]

Honestly, that's a better answer than she feared, if not exactly the agreement she might have hoped for.

"All right," quietly.

"I do have another question or two for you, if you aren't too tired. If you'd rather I go now, though, they can wait a little while."

[stilljustandrew]

He hesitates, then gives his face one more rub and lowers his hand.

"I think I'm okay to keep going. A little bit."

[gothamsheiress]

"Thank you." She looks up at him, meeting his eyes. "I know this is hard for you. It means a great deal that you keep going."

[stilljustandrew]

His shoulders come up a little and then settle back down, in a suppressed flinch.



"I don't know what else to do," he half-whispers.

[gothamsheiress]

That makes her heart hurt. She can remember, as clearly as she can remember her first assignation, or clearer, being a ten-year-old orphan in Balm House whose solemn composure and studiousness came not from piety but from that same thought. I don't know what else to do.

"You could have refused to speak to me at all," she points out, "or retreated when the going grew hard. And you've done neither. I think that strength is yours, and yours alone."

[stilljustandrew]

He flushes a little, and drops his eyes -- but there's the tiniest flicker of a smile this time, wan and hesitant and short-lived, but there.

[gothamsheiress]

Good, because she doubts he's going to like the next part.

"May I ask you why you still wear those cuffs?"

[stilljustandrew]

His face goes blank, and he unconsciously draws his arms close to his chest, as though protectively.

"What?"

[gothamsheiress]

"I've worn cuffs before, but I always find they grow uncomfortable after a few hours."

[stilljustandrew]

"They're mine," he says, still a bit blankly. "They, they're supposed to stay on."

[gothamsheiress]

"According to whom?"

[stilljustandrew]

"You know," he whispers.