[reverse darkest timeline] if i'm not beyond repair

[stilljustandrew]

Composing the note takes him the better part of an hour, and a great deal of cross-outs and scribbling.

Brix,

I was wondering if y
It's been a
How hav
You said if There's been some stuff and I wanted to

If you have some time to talk could you let me know? I'm doing I think I'm still doing better but something happened and I'm not I wanted to tell you about it.

Thanks,
Andrew

He writes out two clean copies of the note, leaves one at the Security desk and one with Bar.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

He breathes for a moment, slowly, in and out.



"I don't want to go back to him," he says, very low. "I don't. But ..."

[gothamsheiress]

She sips her tea -- by now cold -- and watches him.

[stilljustandrew]

"But I want to belong to somebody. Like I did to him."

He's leaning on his folded arms on the tabletop, hands wrapped around elbows, shoulders hunched; his voice is dull and bleak.

"I'm not ... I know that's not something I should have. Because I shouldn't belong to somebody who's bad. And somebody who's good wouldn't want that. So I'm not going to."

[gothamsheiress]

There it is again: someone who's good wouldn't want that. And it's hard, again -- maybe harder, this time -- not to take that personally. To remember that her own Kusheline blood, and the exchanges of power that friends of hers have entered in love and free will, are worlds away from what Andrew means.

(But are they? Can you love mastery, as Kushiel did, and still be good? Or is she fooling herself, as Henri said? Is she just another Shahrizai, a Lucifer-in-waiting, who can't be satisfied without holding another's will in her palm?

Wouldn't this all be easier if she submitted to what Andrew so clearly wants, and told him what to do?)

It takes her a moment to bring herself back, to focus on the question at hand. She's here for a patron, not for herself.

"I'd like to suggest something, if I may. Something to try. If it doesn't help, we can always try something else."

[stilljustandrew]

His gaze flicks up to her; there's something in his face that isn't quite hope, but wants to be.

"What kind of ... something?"

[gothamsheiress]

Probably not what he's hoping!

"Something to do on your own," she clarifies, "that you can keep with you. You said you've been writing things down more often. What do you think about writing yourself your own set of rules? The rules someone who cared for you would want you to follow -- or that you would set for someone you were responsible for. You needn't have rules for every single thing, of course," she adds, "but when you encounter a situation, you could take some time with your notebook to think about what rule someone else would follow then."

[stilljustandrew]

The look of not-quite-hope dies out of his face well before she's finished speaking, and he looks away again.




"I," he says slowly, "I guess ... that might be good to do anyway."

[gothamsheiress]

"I think it might be," she agrees.

"But you're disappointed, I think?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I shouldn't be," he says, barely above a whisper. "It's not, I know it's -- it wouldn't be good if I -- it shouldn't keep hurting when people tell me I can't have it, I know I can't have it --"

He swallows visibly.

"It's just ... maybe this would be good for me, and, and maybe I should try it, but ..."

[gothamsheiress]

For a moment, Brix's own expression cracks out of calm into unhappiness.

"It isn't that there aren't good masters out there, Andrew. But the bad ones outnumber them. And even the good ones can hurt their loved ones -- especially if the person obeying them has no care for his own self. I would rather you know your own will before you hand the reins to another, again."

[stilljustandrew]

He looks up slowly.

"But," he says, and "I thought," and stops.

[gothamsheiress]

"That no good person would want to be mastered, or to master another?"

She shakes her head, glancing away.

"I expect that's largely true."

[stilljustandrew]

"Then how --"

His voice trembles, just a little.

"I mean, I get it. I know I shouldn't still want it. I know what that makes me."

[gothamsheiress]

"I beg your forgiveness, Andrew, but I'm truly not sure that I do. What do you think it makes you?"

[stilljustandrew]

One of his hands moves to take hold of his other wrist -- and pulls back at once, closing into a tight ball.



"What he called me."

A thin whisper, barely audible.

"A lapdog. His or, or anybody's."

[gothamsheiress]

"Is it that . . ."

Brix hesitates. Did she mistake things back at the beginning? Or is she misstepping now, by even mentioning this? Naamah help her; the last thing she wants is to undo all the progress Andrew has made.

"That you want his mastery, or that you want someone's?"

[stilljustandrew]

For a long beat he's silent, mulling over the question.




"It's hard to talk about it," he says haltingly, "it, it's hard to even think about it, but ... I know he -- he was --"

His mouth jerks, as though tugged by a hook.

"He hurt me. And he used me to, to do things that ... I don't, I don't want to go back to him. But."



"But I miss being his. And I want to be someone's."

[gothamsheiress]

"All right," slowly.



"You aren't alone in wanting to belong to someone. In wanting to give yourself over to someone, or something. And it is not, in itself, wrong to want that."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew doesn't look up.

"But," he says tonelessly, like a prompt.

[gothamsheiress]

"Could you give yourself over to someone and still know when to tell them no?"

This is a real question; she wants a real self-assessment.

[stilljustandrew]

He glances up at her swiftly, with a look of uncertainty -- and just underneath it, a touch of unconscious fear.

"... like ... no to what?"

[gothamsheiress]

"Anything. Anything that made you unhappy, or unsafe."

[stilljustandrew]

In a whisper: "I don't know."

[gothamsheiress]

"Then," gently, "I think perhaps you ought to focus on that, first. Knowing your own mind is an important part of this."

[stilljustandrew]

"An important part of --"

He's blinking at her, bewildered, with that tinge of fear still underneath.

"You're saying ... you're saying this is something I could ..."




"I could do?"