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Tooth and Claw: Rahne and John A (3/11/15)
A few days after, with John healed and things more settled down, John and Rahne have another 'talk.' And history's most casual stoning.
Well, he felt odd even thinking it, but it was kind of good to be back. It was lonely back in the city. Even if he hardly spoke to anyone around here, it was at least nice having familiar faces and scents around.
He'd missed Rahne most of all.
Funny how someone could get under his skin like that. The day or two after he'd returned, he'd kept his distance. To say he was stalking her now wasn't exactly his intention. He just was positioning himself to be in places she frequented. Because he wanted to talk. He just had reason to think that she probably thought otherwise.
For now, he decided to just have a smoke on a fallen log he was using as a bench. Chances were she'd trot her way through here as a wolf, and he'd just talk at her. But then again, she might come around on her own two legs. He wasn't sure which, and he didn't care. For now, it was just, well, the waiting.
As if she hadn't noticed. Even with her nose still half smashed, she could smell him lurking around all the time. It was time to do something about it--a decision perhaps somewhat spurred by the lovely pain medicine dancing in her system. Anyway, it was time to tell him off. And give him a look at her blackened face for good measure.
She strolled up to him, trying for casual but coming off angrier than she'd like. "Stop following me."
Looking at her face hurt him more than he cared to admit. "You followed me," he pointed out. "Into the city. And you brought me back." His tone was remarkably non-confrontational, given the nature of her own tone.
"Midnighter was going to go alone. I didn't think he should." Rahne could only really manage half a frown.
"Then you could've sent someone else. He's part of a team, you know. He has allies other than you," he said. "Look." He took a drag on his cigarette. "I did you wrong. You're a sweet girl, and I'm not sittin' here askin' you to come back, 'cause I know you won't. What I did was stupid, and hateful, and wrong," he said, quite seriously. "You didn't deserve that. And I know it ain't worth shit to you, but I'm sorry."
There were so many things to say, and her mouth was full of cotton and it all got jumbled up. She balled her fists up tight and turned to her left, letting out a frustrated noise.
"Yeah. I know," John said. "I left 'cause ... I knew I'd hurt you. And then you came after me, and you got yourself hurt 'cause of me." He stood up, taking another drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke aside. "So that's another debt I owe you, I guess, that I gotta figure out how to repay." He didn't sound pleased about it, but he didn't sound particularly resentful, either. "Anyway. I came here to say what I had to say. So I'll get out of your hair and stay out."
"Yes, that's what you do, isn't it? You go away where you don't have to face anyone but yourself." Rahne petulantly kicked up a spray of dirt.
John composed himself by taking another drag on his cigarette. "I'd think that of anyone in this school, you might understand the most. I go away where I don't have to face anyone but myself 'cause I'm my own worst enemy. I thought I had ... I thought I had myself under control. But I still don't. And I don't know if I ever will."
"Even if I keep to myself, at least I don't hurt people. You say you're your own worst enemy, but that's just an excuse to keep hurting everyone around you so you can run off and cry about it like a wee bairn." She held out her hand. "Give me one of those."
John half-turned to keep his pack in his pocket away from her. "No, they're bad for you," he said, scowling at her a bit. "I'm trying to get better about other people, Rahne. It's hard when you look at other people and all you can think about is how to beat them down. I spent my whole life watching my back and never trusting anyone. Not even my goddamn parents. I've been a dog that only knows how to bite for my whole life. 'Scuse me if I'm slow learnin' new tricks."
Now she was scowling, too. "I tried feelin' sorry for you, an' understanding, if you'll remember. Excuse me if I can't muster much more sympathy." She made the same gesture with her hand again. "Just hand me a fag already. Ye're not my da."
"Yeah. I do. And that's why I didn't expect anything from this but bitterness from you," John said. "And no, I won't. 'Cause you don't heal as fast as I do, and if you get addicted, that's something else I'll have hangin' over my head."
"John Howlett, ye're the damndest son of a bitch who ever lived. What's to care about now--I'm not anyone to you an' it seems I never was so stop actin' like ye're gonna protect me."
"Yeah, I get that a lot," John replied, coolly, though his eyebrow twitched just slightly. Seriously, he was trying to show that he cared, and she would insist that he didn't? "You're mad. You've got every right to be. Maybe if you ask nicely, we'll go into that Danger Room place and you can take it out on me. But I'm not gettin' you hooked on smokes. It's a money and health sink that you don't need." He took the last drag on his and flicked it to the ground, grinding it out with the toe of his boot. "Besides. It'll ruin yer good looks if you get hooked."
She kicked at the ground. "I hate you. I have no idea how to tell you how much I hate you."
"You'd be surprised how often I get that, too," John said, stooping to pick up the butt of his cigarette and tucking it into his pocket. "Honestly? Maybe some of us are just destined to become the bad guy. Maybe I'm one of them. At the very least, though, I'd like a choice in the matter."
"You already made a lot of choices."
"Yeah. I did. I own that," John replied. "I'm not denying that I did you wrong. Sure, I was a kid havin' fun with my toys when you found out. I said my apologies and the whole nine yards. You want me to do, what, hara-kiri to myself in front of you? Odds are I can probably do it a couple times before having to stop at risk of me bleeding myself dry. If I space it out, might be able to squeeze four or five into an hour," John said, almost sounding like he was offering.
"I bled back there to keep you safe," he pointed out. "You held your own. Because you're a damned ferocious, majestic beast when you're in your fur, and you're a fiery, beautiful girl like you are now to match," John said, pointing at her as if it were an accusation. "With the right training and practice, you could be a goddamned force of nature. You're the only person at this school who has ever, ever scared me in my life, and the person I respect the most in this place. 'Cause you've been through so much of the same shit that I have. And you did a hell of a lot better than I did in taking it."
"I'm not your toy," she snarled, as to his first comment. "And if anyone's going to cut you to pieces it's gonna be me. I just want...I just want..." She turned away from him, determined not to be seen crying. "I just want to know why! Why? Stop talking around in circles, stop...just stop...just..." Her voice grew much quieter. "Why?"
"Why what?" he asked back. "Why'd I do you like I did?" he asked, figuring that's what she meant. He took a breath, and then pulled his soft-pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out, took it in his lips by the filter, and then lit it, tucking the lighter and the pack back into his pocket. "I'd never had... a girlfriend before," he said, looking up towards the tree tops. "I'd... you know. Fooled around with girls, before. Here and there. Had a boy-toy in juvie. Me and Lu were casual. I liked it. It felt... familiar."
He took another drag and blew the smoke aside. "I held onto that. 'Cause where we were going... it was... different. Honestly, I was a bit scared. I'd never had someone who was so... into me, you know? But more than that." Maybe she'd loved him. Maybe she was just special.
"I was scared," he said again. "I was in a spot where I didn't know what I wanted. I thought maybe I could have both. I knew I shouldn't. But I did. And that's my fault."
She shook her head. "I still don't understand. How could a person think like that? Just...if I understood, maybe I could feel better."
"We grew up different. I've always been different," John said, simple as that. "Maybe you'll never understand. Maybe you'll just have to live with that."
"That's it, then?" She didn't want to be left wronged and confused and alone again. But it didn't seem like he'd ever be able to make her understand.
"You're the only person that's ever gotten under my skin like this," John added, shaking his head.
She snorted. "Aye, you seem utterly bereft."
"Just 'cause I don't wear my heart on my sleeve doesn't mean I don't have one," John pointed out. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here, talkin' to you."
She crouched down and wiped at her face with her long sleeves. "That's what I used t' think."
John leaned against a nearby tree, still puffing on his cigarette. "What will it take for you to be satisfied with an answer from me?" he asked.
"I guess you'd have to convince me ye're anythin' but a liar."
"And what would that take?" he asked, patiently.
"Stop sayin' ye're sorry in that cold voice, for one. I hate it. Talk like you mean it or dunnae talk at all."
John took a drag on his cigarette, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. "Fine. I'm sorry," he said, emphatically.
"Now gimme a bleeding fag," she ordered.
"Not gonna happen," John said, flatly.
"Jerk."
"Yeah," John said, taking another drag and blowing smoke. "I get that a lot, too."
"You know I'd 've never let you touch me if I'd known what you were doing, right? Not once."
"I imagine, yeah," John replied, nodding. He wasn't sure what the point of that was.
"So I can't believe your conscience is sleeping so well at night. Feel free t' go back over yer memories and dub in a nice soundtrack o' 'no, John!' evr'ytime we got t'gether." And thus, the thesis of her grievance, which it had taken so long for her to identify for herself. She was seemingly ignoring him, digging her fingers in the dirt.
That was it.
John took his cigarette in one hand, and with the other, he reached out to her shoulder and hauled her up, turning her around roughly. "You think you know what I'm like behind closed doors?!" he demanded, almost spitting in her face with how loudly he was talking now. "You think you're fucking omniscient and you know exactly what I'm doing?! I've been staying up all night thinking over and over again about what I did to you. About why I did it. About how badly it must have hurt you. And it is the only time I have ever made an emotional connection with a human being that wasn't based around anger. It is the only time where I have actually felt remorse, in my entire fucking life, Rahne. I've been to prison and I never regretted any of that. You... No..." He shook his head. "What I did to you is burned into my fucking mind as my one and only fucking regret," he said, practically shouting, tapping the hand that was holding his cigarette against the side of his head. "That's my heart on my sleeve, Rahne. That's how I feel. I haven't slept more than three hours since... since I fucked up."
She wanted to shout back in his face, but she was frozen with her hand on her shoulder where he'd touched her and her stomach threatening to turn itself inside out. When she slipped her hand over her mouth and tears began to fall, she only hoped he didn't think they were out of sympathy for him.
He let his hand drop. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling that he'd probably scared her. He turned and walked away a few paces, putting his cigarette back in his lips. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. I just... get so mad, sometimes." He shook his head. People trying to act like they knew everything about him, when they didn't.
She blotted her eyes again, though by now her face was mottled red and white. "I think it's my turn to run away to New York now."
John shook his head. "No. 'Cause Creed's still out there, and I will kill him if he lays a finger on you. I don't care how long it takes, I'll saw his damn head off with my claws if that's what it takes," John said, his tone leaving no doubt as to whether or not he would. "No. If... if me being here is going to cause you that much pain... then I'll go. For real, this time. I'll make it official and everything. Maybe even move back home." Sure, it was still New York City that way. But then again, maybe he could stay at the X-Factor barn. He'd have to do some digging.
"You got way more potential than I do. I'm not about to sit here and let you squander that just because I... went and fucked up your life."
She shook her head. "I've lost a lot. After my da...an' then th' year in th' woods, an'...everythin' else." Her eyes flicked up to his for an instant. "I don' reckon I've much better prospects than you. I'm tired, John. You're back now, 'n suddenly I'm so very tired. So you enjoy bein' back, an' don' you worry about me givin' you any more grief."
He scowled at her again, and he shook his head. "No, because the first time in my life I fucking care about somebody, and I manage to fuck everything up, I'm not just going to throw my hands up and go "oh well, guess it sucks for them." No, Rahne. I tried that. And I can't stop caring about you." He half-turned away from her, taking another long drag on his cigarette.
"I've never felt that way about anyone else. And I didn't even realize I felt that way until you were gone."
" 'S too bad you ate my heart raw for breakfast, or that'd be a more welcome declaration." She frowned at him. "Care or don't, you can't stop me from doin' whatever I like."
"If you leave, you'd best bet your ass that I'll be hot on your heels," he replied. "There's no way I'm letting you get into danger on account of me ever again."
"Och, don't worry that little pea brain over me. I won't really go t' New York. It gave me a headache. I hated it."
John was quiet for a few moments. "Good," he finally said, deflated. "It's... a bad place to live, to be honest. At least, it was for me."
"You'd really follow me all the way to th' city, with me throwin' rocks at you the whole way, tryin' to shoo you like a stray cat?"
"If I was feeling generous, I might even let you hit me with a rock or two," he replied, giving her a little bit of a smirk.
"A little generosity is only the first step on the path to ever, ever being trusted again. My only regret is I dunnae have a rock."
John looked at his feet, and after nudging some dirt around, managed to find a rock that he pulled out of the ground, a bit smaller than the size of his fist. He offered it to her, silently, cigarette smoking between his lips. "I'd sooner let you crack my skull with this than hand you a cigarette, just so you know."
"Jerk." She took the rock from him, careful to not actually let their skin brush. Even feeling the warmth left behind by his hand made her feel ill. Passively taking in his scent was painful enough. "Am I not to be allowed any vices?"
"Thought Scots were more into drinking," came John's halfhearted retort. "Besides, these aren't some wimpy menthols or anything like that. These are Marlboro Reds. Cowboy killers," he explained.
At the beginning of their conversation, Rahne would have whipped the rock at him and hoped to put an eye out. Now she gave it a halfhearted overhand lob. "Jerk."
John grunted when it bounced off of his shoulder, but he hadn't really moved to get it out of the way. He winced, but otherwise, he didn't do much. "Better?" he asked, genuinely, bending down to pick the rock up again if she wanted another go.
"A little."
He offered it to her again. "Have at it, then," he said. "Repeat until you feel back to your old self, if that's what it takes," he said, seriously, hand offering the stone.
She took it and looked down at it. "Jesus probably wouldn't throw this rock at you again. Probably." But she did anyway.
That one hit him squarely in the chest, but she obviously wasn't putting her whole arm into it. He just winced, and picked it up again. "Think Jesus would be more the kind of guy to stand here and take you throwing rocks at him," John pointed out, offering her the rock again.
"Gits like you dunnae get to imply they're bein' Christlike. For the rest of forever, no matter what."
"Does that mean I should just give up and just keep being a jackass?" John asked. "'Cause if there is no forgiveness for me... then what's the point of trying? Why not go back to being just as bad as I was before, if not worse?"
"There's forgiveness on offer for all, but not everyone gets t' be a saint."
"I doubt many saints smoke anyhow," John pointed out. "How many times you gotta hit me with this rock before I'm forgiven?" he asked, moving his hand a little, still offering her the rock.
"I might forgive you when you're not a right bastard anymore. The rock is just makin' me feel better, meantime." She took it from him again.
"And when will that be?" he asked, letting his hand drop again. "How do I prove that to you?"
"Stop lying. Be kind. Be patient. An' after a while, if it turns out I can forgive you, I just might."
"I haven't lied to you since that... since I fucked up, Rahne," John pointed out. Or at least he was pretty sure he hadn't. "I've been tryin' to be kind. And here I am, letting you throw rocks at me." Well, the same rock, over and over. Which was possibly the very definition of patient. "I guess I'll just wait till you've had your fill of that."
She shook her head. "You dunnae get to tell me how I feel. If I'm ready, I'm ready. Until then...no. You hurt me badly an' I cannae trust again yet. Not you, an' not any other man."
He sighed. "Just like you don't get to tell me that I'm a liar and I have a clear conscience when you don't know either way." He shook his head. "Don't let my fuck-up ruin other men for you. Plenty of nice boys in that school. They'd treat you a hell of a lot better than I did, that's for sure. Only person I think is probably worse than I am for dating is Midnighter," John said, by estimation. Though he didn't mean it as a slight against Midnighter. He just didn't know better.
"Well, you have historically been a liar, as far as I know," she pointed out. Her gaze dropped to the rock in her hand. "I'm not ready for men yet. For men t' exist, I guess I mean. I about jump outta my skin an' reach for the pepper spray when one tries t' touch me." Beyond the odd handshake, which she could prep for. Or, she reflected, a street brawl.
"You keep judging me by my past and don't let me make a new future for myself," John told her. "You wanna try to forgive me, you at least gotta give me a chance in your heart. Otherwise you're just gonna keep seeing things the way you want to see them. The way you think they are," he amended.
"You're stronger and braver than you think, Rahne. And you're a pretty girl, and kind to boot. Any boy in this school would be lucky to be with you. I know I sure was. And I went and blew it."
"I'm just not ready," she repeated, more firmly. "You cannae make me be ready jus' 'cause you wish I was. Even if I oughta be."
"I know," he said. "I just... wish all of this had never happened. Me and Lu getting mixed up and staying mixed up while I was with you, and ... this shit with Creed..." He sighed. "You have to understand, Rahne. Creed and I are like ... it was like looking into a mirror. Seeing what I could become, if I went just a bit further. That's why I had went off on my own. That's why I had to fight him on my own. Even if I couldn't kill him, I had to do my best to ... kill that part of me. If I could. And I'm not even certain that it's dead."
"I wish it hadnae happened, too. Creed is a monster, but t' tell it true I much prefer his kind. You can tell it right up front."
"No saving his kind, though," John replied. "No chance for him to ever be civil." No chance that John was giving him, at least.
"Didn't think there was one for you, either. But you came back t' school. So maybe there's somethin'." She managed to work the stone halfway into her pocket, to save for later. "You understand--just 'cause I'm not ready t' call it square, doesnae mean I think you're a lost cause in principal. Maybe we'll never be mates again an' it doesnae mean you have to become Creed."
"I'd hoped you thought that way," John said, visibly relaxing just a bit when she said that. "But... I kind of thought maybe you thought the absolute worst of me. That you'd... written me off. Like a whole bunch of others have already."
"No. I might just personally hate you until Kingdom come."
"That's just a bit better than you thinking I'm hopeless. Not much, but just enough," John said, nodding. "Keep that rock. Any time you wanna throw it, you have at it."
"No worries there; I plan on it."
Well, he felt odd even thinking it, but it was kind of good to be back. It was lonely back in the city. Even if he hardly spoke to anyone around here, it was at least nice having familiar faces and scents around.
He'd missed Rahne most of all.
Funny how someone could get under his skin like that. The day or two after he'd returned, he'd kept his distance. To say he was stalking her now wasn't exactly his intention. He just was positioning himself to be in places she frequented. Because he wanted to talk. He just had reason to think that she probably thought otherwise.
For now, he decided to just have a smoke on a fallen log he was using as a bench. Chances were she'd trot her way through here as a wolf, and he'd just talk at her. But then again, she might come around on her own two legs. He wasn't sure which, and he didn't care. For now, it was just, well, the waiting.
As if she hadn't noticed. Even with her nose still half smashed, she could smell him lurking around all the time. It was time to do something about it--a decision perhaps somewhat spurred by the lovely pain medicine dancing in her system. Anyway, it was time to tell him off. And give him a look at her blackened face for good measure.
She strolled up to him, trying for casual but coming off angrier than she'd like. "Stop following me."
Looking at her face hurt him more than he cared to admit. "You followed me," he pointed out. "Into the city. And you brought me back." His tone was remarkably non-confrontational, given the nature of her own tone.
"Midnighter was going to go alone. I didn't think he should." Rahne could only really manage half a frown.
"Then you could've sent someone else. He's part of a team, you know. He has allies other than you," he said. "Look." He took a drag on his cigarette. "I did you wrong. You're a sweet girl, and I'm not sittin' here askin' you to come back, 'cause I know you won't. What I did was stupid, and hateful, and wrong," he said, quite seriously. "You didn't deserve that. And I know it ain't worth shit to you, but I'm sorry."
There were so many things to say, and her mouth was full of cotton and it all got jumbled up. She balled her fists up tight and turned to her left, letting out a frustrated noise.
"Yeah. I know," John said. "I left 'cause ... I knew I'd hurt you. And then you came after me, and you got yourself hurt 'cause of me." He stood up, taking another drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke aside. "So that's another debt I owe you, I guess, that I gotta figure out how to repay." He didn't sound pleased about it, but he didn't sound particularly resentful, either. "Anyway. I came here to say what I had to say. So I'll get out of your hair and stay out."
"Yes, that's what you do, isn't it? You go away where you don't have to face anyone but yourself." Rahne petulantly kicked up a spray of dirt.
John composed himself by taking another drag on his cigarette. "I'd think that of anyone in this school, you might understand the most. I go away where I don't have to face anyone but myself 'cause I'm my own worst enemy. I thought I had ... I thought I had myself under control. But I still don't. And I don't know if I ever will."
"Even if I keep to myself, at least I don't hurt people. You say you're your own worst enemy, but that's just an excuse to keep hurting everyone around you so you can run off and cry about it like a wee bairn." She held out her hand. "Give me one of those."
John half-turned to keep his pack in his pocket away from her. "No, they're bad for you," he said, scowling at her a bit. "I'm trying to get better about other people, Rahne. It's hard when you look at other people and all you can think about is how to beat them down. I spent my whole life watching my back and never trusting anyone. Not even my goddamn parents. I've been a dog that only knows how to bite for my whole life. 'Scuse me if I'm slow learnin' new tricks."
Now she was scowling, too. "I tried feelin' sorry for you, an' understanding, if you'll remember. Excuse me if I can't muster much more sympathy." She made the same gesture with her hand again. "Just hand me a fag already. Ye're not my da."
"Yeah. I do. And that's why I didn't expect anything from this but bitterness from you," John said. "And no, I won't. 'Cause you don't heal as fast as I do, and if you get addicted, that's something else I'll have hangin' over my head."
"John Howlett, ye're the damndest son of a bitch who ever lived. What's to care about now--I'm not anyone to you an' it seems I never was so stop actin' like ye're gonna protect me."
"Yeah, I get that a lot," John replied, coolly, though his eyebrow twitched just slightly. Seriously, he was trying to show that he cared, and she would insist that he didn't? "You're mad. You've got every right to be. Maybe if you ask nicely, we'll go into that Danger Room place and you can take it out on me. But I'm not gettin' you hooked on smokes. It's a money and health sink that you don't need." He took the last drag on his and flicked it to the ground, grinding it out with the toe of his boot. "Besides. It'll ruin yer good looks if you get hooked."
She kicked at the ground. "I hate you. I have no idea how to tell you how much I hate you."
"You'd be surprised how often I get that, too," John said, stooping to pick up the butt of his cigarette and tucking it into his pocket. "Honestly? Maybe some of us are just destined to become the bad guy. Maybe I'm one of them. At the very least, though, I'd like a choice in the matter."
"You already made a lot of choices."
"Yeah. I did. I own that," John replied. "I'm not denying that I did you wrong. Sure, I was a kid havin' fun with my toys when you found out. I said my apologies and the whole nine yards. You want me to do, what, hara-kiri to myself in front of you? Odds are I can probably do it a couple times before having to stop at risk of me bleeding myself dry. If I space it out, might be able to squeeze four or five into an hour," John said, almost sounding like he was offering.
"I bled back there to keep you safe," he pointed out. "You held your own. Because you're a damned ferocious, majestic beast when you're in your fur, and you're a fiery, beautiful girl like you are now to match," John said, pointing at her as if it were an accusation. "With the right training and practice, you could be a goddamned force of nature. You're the only person at this school who has ever, ever scared me in my life, and the person I respect the most in this place. 'Cause you've been through so much of the same shit that I have. And you did a hell of a lot better than I did in taking it."
"I'm not your toy," she snarled, as to his first comment. "And if anyone's going to cut you to pieces it's gonna be me. I just want...I just want..." She turned away from him, determined not to be seen crying. "I just want to know why! Why? Stop talking around in circles, stop...just stop...just..." Her voice grew much quieter. "Why?"
"Why what?" he asked back. "Why'd I do you like I did?" he asked, figuring that's what she meant. He took a breath, and then pulled his soft-pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out, took it in his lips by the filter, and then lit it, tucking the lighter and the pack back into his pocket. "I'd never had... a girlfriend before," he said, looking up towards the tree tops. "I'd... you know. Fooled around with girls, before. Here and there. Had a boy-toy in juvie. Me and Lu were casual. I liked it. It felt... familiar."
He took another drag and blew the smoke aside. "I held onto that. 'Cause where we were going... it was... different. Honestly, I was a bit scared. I'd never had someone who was so... into me, you know? But more than that." Maybe she'd loved him. Maybe she was just special.
"I was scared," he said again. "I was in a spot where I didn't know what I wanted. I thought maybe I could have both. I knew I shouldn't. But I did. And that's my fault."
She shook her head. "I still don't understand. How could a person think like that? Just...if I understood, maybe I could feel better."
"We grew up different. I've always been different," John said, simple as that. "Maybe you'll never understand. Maybe you'll just have to live with that."
"That's it, then?" She didn't want to be left wronged and confused and alone again. But it didn't seem like he'd ever be able to make her understand.
"You're the only person that's ever gotten under my skin like this," John added, shaking his head.
She snorted. "Aye, you seem utterly bereft."
"Just 'cause I don't wear my heart on my sleeve doesn't mean I don't have one," John pointed out. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here, talkin' to you."
She crouched down and wiped at her face with her long sleeves. "That's what I used t' think."
John leaned against a nearby tree, still puffing on his cigarette. "What will it take for you to be satisfied with an answer from me?" he asked.
"I guess you'd have to convince me ye're anythin' but a liar."
"And what would that take?" he asked, patiently.
"Stop sayin' ye're sorry in that cold voice, for one. I hate it. Talk like you mean it or dunnae talk at all."
John took a drag on his cigarette, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. "Fine. I'm sorry," he said, emphatically.
"Now gimme a bleeding fag," she ordered.
"Not gonna happen," John said, flatly.
"Jerk."
"Yeah," John said, taking another drag and blowing smoke. "I get that a lot, too."
"You know I'd 've never let you touch me if I'd known what you were doing, right? Not once."
"I imagine, yeah," John replied, nodding. He wasn't sure what the point of that was.
"So I can't believe your conscience is sleeping so well at night. Feel free t' go back over yer memories and dub in a nice soundtrack o' 'no, John!' evr'ytime we got t'gether." And thus, the thesis of her grievance, which it had taken so long for her to identify for herself. She was seemingly ignoring him, digging her fingers in the dirt.
That was it.
John took his cigarette in one hand, and with the other, he reached out to her shoulder and hauled her up, turning her around roughly. "You think you know what I'm like behind closed doors?!" he demanded, almost spitting in her face with how loudly he was talking now. "You think you're fucking omniscient and you know exactly what I'm doing?! I've been staying up all night thinking over and over again about what I did to you. About why I did it. About how badly it must have hurt you. And it is the only time I have ever made an emotional connection with a human being that wasn't based around anger. It is the only time where I have actually felt remorse, in my entire fucking life, Rahne. I've been to prison and I never regretted any of that. You... No..." He shook his head. "What I did to you is burned into my fucking mind as my one and only fucking regret," he said, practically shouting, tapping the hand that was holding his cigarette against the side of his head. "That's my heart on my sleeve, Rahne. That's how I feel. I haven't slept more than three hours since... since I fucked up."
She wanted to shout back in his face, but she was frozen with her hand on her shoulder where he'd touched her and her stomach threatening to turn itself inside out. When she slipped her hand over her mouth and tears began to fall, she only hoped he didn't think they were out of sympathy for him.
He let his hand drop. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling that he'd probably scared her. He turned and walked away a few paces, putting his cigarette back in his lips. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. I just... get so mad, sometimes." He shook his head. People trying to act like they knew everything about him, when they didn't.
She blotted her eyes again, though by now her face was mottled red and white. "I think it's my turn to run away to New York now."
John shook his head. "No. 'Cause Creed's still out there, and I will kill him if he lays a finger on you. I don't care how long it takes, I'll saw his damn head off with my claws if that's what it takes," John said, his tone leaving no doubt as to whether or not he would. "No. If... if me being here is going to cause you that much pain... then I'll go. For real, this time. I'll make it official and everything. Maybe even move back home." Sure, it was still New York City that way. But then again, maybe he could stay at the X-Factor barn. He'd have to do some digging.
"You got way more potential than I do. I'm not about to sit here and let you squander that just because I... went and fucked up your life."
She shook her head. "I've lost a lot. After my da...an' then th' year in th' woods, an'...everythin' else." Her eyes flicked up to his for an instant. "I don' reckon I've much better prospects than you. I'm tired, John. You're back now, 'n suddenly I'm so very tired. So you enjoy bein' back, an' don' you worry about me givin' you any more grief."
He scowled at her again, and he shook his head. "No, because the first time in my life I fucking care about somebody, and I manage to fuck everything up, I'm not just going to throw my hands up and go "oh well, guess it sucks for them." No, Rahne. I tried that. And I can't stop caring about you." He half-turned away from her, taking another long drag on his cigarette.
"I've never felt that way about anyone else. And I didn't even realize I felt that way until you were gone."
" 'S too bad you ate my heart raw for breakfast, or that'd be a more welcome declaration." She frowned at him. "Care or don't, you can't stop me from doin' whatever I like."
"If you leave, you'd best bet your ass that I'll be hot on your heels," he replied. "There's no way I'm letting you get into danger on account of me ever again."
"Och, don't worry that little pea brain over me. I won't really go t' New York. It gave me a headache. I hated it."
John was quiet for a few moments. "Good," he finally said, deflated. "It's... a bad place to live, to be honest. At least, it was for me."
"You'd really follow me all the way to th' city, with me throwin' rocks at you the whole way, tryin' to shoo you like a stray cat?"
"If I was feeling generous, I might even let you hit me with a rock or two," he replied, giving her a little bit of a smirk.
"A little generosity is only the first step on the path to ever, ever being trusted again. My only regret is I dunnae have a rock."
John looked at his feet, and after nudging some dirt around, managed to find a rock that he pulled out of the ground, a bit smaller than the size of his fist. He offered it to her, silently, cigarette smoking between his lips. "I'd sooner let you crack my skull with this than hand you a cigarette, just so you know."
"Jerk." She took the rock from him, careful to not actually let their skin brush. Even feeling the warmth left behind by his hand made her feel ill. Passively taking in his scent was painful enough. "Am I not to be allowed any vices?"
"Thought Scots were more into drinking," came John's halfhearted retort. "Besides, these aren't some wimpy menthols or anything like that. These are Marlboro Reds. Cowboy killers," he explained.
At the beginning of their conversation, Rahne would have whipped the rock at him and hoped to put an eye out. Now she gave it a halfhearted overhand lob. "Jerk."
John grunted when it bounced off of his shoulder, but he hadn't really moved to get it out of the way. He winced, but otherwise, he didn't do much. "Better?" he asked, genuinely, bending down to pick the rock up again if she wanted another go.
"A little."
He offered it to her again. "Have at it, then," he said. "Repeat until you feel back to your old self, if that's what it takes," he said, seriously, hand offering the stone.
She took it and looked down at it. "Jesus probably wouldn't throw this rock at you again. Probably." But she did anyway.
That one hit him squarely in the chest, but she obviously wasn't putting her whole arm into it. He just winced, and picked it up again. "Think Jesus would be more the kind of guy to stand here and take you throwing rocks at him," John pointed out, offering her the rock again.
"Gits like you dunnae get to imply they're bein' Christlike. For the rest of forever, no matter what."
"Does that mean I should just give up and just keep being a jackass?" John asked. "'Cause if there is no forgiveness for me... then what's the point of trying? Why not go back to being just as bad as I was before, if not worse?"
"There's forgiveness on offer for all, but not everyone gets t' be a saint."
"I doubt many saints smoke anyhow," John pointed out. "How many times you gotta hit me with this rock before I'm forgiven?" he asked, moving his hand a little, still offering her the rock.
"I might forgive you when you're not a right bastard anymore. The rock is just makin' me feel better, meantime." She took it from him again.
"And when will that be?" he asked, letting his hand drop again. "How do I prove that to you?"
"Stop lying. Be kind. Be patient. An' after a while, if it turns out I can forgive you, I just might."
"I haven't lied to you since that... since I fucked up, Rahne," John pointed out. Or at least he was pretty sure he hadn't. "I've been tryin' to be kind. And here I am, letting you throw rocks at me." Well, the same rock, over and over. Which was possibly the very definition of patient. "I guess I'll just wait till you've had your fill of that."
She shook her head. "You dunnae get to tell me how I feel. If I'm ready, I'm ready. Until then...no. You hurt me badly an' I cannae trust again yet. Not you, an' not any other man."
He sighed. "Just like you don't get to tell me that I'm a liar and I have a clear conscience when you don't know either way." He shook his head. "Don't let my fuck-up ruin other men for you. Plenty of nice boys in that school. They'd treat you a hell of a lot better than I did, that's for sure. Only person I think is probably worse than I am for dating is Midnighter," John said, by estimation. Though he didn't mean it as a slight against Midnighter. He just didn't know better.
"Well, you have historically been a liar, as far as I know," she pointed out. Her gaze dropped to the rock in her hand. "I'm not ready for men yet. For men t' exist, I guess I mean. I about jump outta my skin an' reach for the pepper spray when one tries t' touch me." Beyond the odd handshake, which she could prep for. Or, she reflected, a street brawl.
"You keep judging me by my past and don't let me make a new future for myself," John told her. "You wanna try to forgive me, you at least gotta give me a chance in your heart. Otherwise you're just gonna keep seeing things the way you want to see them. The way you think they are," he amended.
"You're stronger and braver than you think, Rahne. And you're a pretty girl, and kind to boot. Any boy in this school would be lucky to be with you. I know I sure was. And I went and blew it."
"I'm just not ready," she repeated, more firmly. "You cannae make me be ready jus' 'cause you wish I was. Even if I oughta be."
"I know," he said. "I just... wish all of this had never happened. Me and Lu getting mixed up and staying mixed up while I was with you, and ... this shit with Creed..." He sighed. "You have to understand, Rahne. Creed and I are like ... it was like looking into a mirror. Seeing what I could become, if I went just a bit further. That's why I had went off on my own. That's why I had to fight him on my own. Even if I couldn't kill him, I had to do my best to ... kill that part of me. If I could. And I'm not even certain that it's dead."
"I wish it hadnae happened, too. Creed is a monster, but t' tell it true I much prefer his kind. You can tell it right up front."
"No saving his kind, though," John replied. "No chance for him to ever be civil." No chance that John was giving him, at least.
"Didn't think there was one for you, either. But you came back t' school. So maybe there's somethin'." She managed to work the stone halfway into her pocket, to save for later. "You understand--just 'cause I'm not ready t' call it square, doesnae mean I think you're a lost cause in principal. Maybe we'll never be mates again an' it doesnae mean you have to become Creed."
"I'd hoped you thought that way," John said, visibly relaxing just a bit when she said that. "But... I kind of thought maybe you thought the absolute worst of me. That you'd... written me off. Like a whole bunch of others have already."
"No. I might just personally hate you until Kingdom come."
"That's just a bit better than you thinking I'm hopeless. Not much, but just enough," John said, nodding. "Keep that rock. Any time you wanna throw it, you have at it."
"No worries there; I plan on it."