crypt | meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

HARDEST THING TO SAY MEME

Sometimes the hardest things to say are also the most important. It doesn't matter how much it scares you to do so, it's finally time to be honest.

- post as your character.
- others go to RNG and roll numbers 1-22 then respond setting up a scenario.
- respond and have fun!

01. I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE Unfortunately, you can't keep lying to your partner/friend/family anymore. You just don't feel the same for them anymore.
02. I WOULD KILL YOU The person who means so much to you has done something completely unforgivable and now it's time to make sure they know where they stand. You would kill them if you ever got the chance.
03. I LOVE YOU, BUT... A bittersweet love confession. You know you love this person more than anything, but you're not sure you can give them what they need.
04. I DON'T TRUST YOU No matter how you feel about this person, you really can't trust them anymore.
05. SACRIFICE You're going to sacrifice yourself, for the person you're talking with or for the good of all humanity. You want them to know the reasons and that there's no stopping you.
06. TROUBLE You're in trouble and you might not make it through. You need to let at least one person know how you feel before it's too late though.
07. CRIME CONFESSION You did something you weren't proud of and now it's time to admit it.
08. DEMONS We've all got our demons and we've all got our own personal nightmares we have to face, but this time? You can't hold it all back.
09. I'M PREGNANT... Now's not the best time for it maybe or maybe you're just nervous how your partner will react, but they need to hear it.
10. BETRAYAL You've betrayed this person and you have to tell them the truth, no more running from it
11. CHEATED You've been unfaithful and it's time to tell your lover.
12. BROKEN That's it. You've had it. You are entirely broken and tired of everything.
13. AFRAID Something has you deathly afraid and you need to talk about it.
14. HELP ME You need someone to help you, bad. You can't do it alone anymore, you've tried.
15. I'M SORRY You said something or did something horrible and now it's time to ask for forgiveness.
16. YOU WERE A MISTAKE Sorry, but whoever you're talking to was the biggest mistake of your life or maybe it was just something you did together.
17. NOT WHO I SAY I AM You're so far from who they think you are, you need to finally tell the truth.
18. LET'S RUN AWAY You want to just get out, leave everything behind and be with this one person for the rest of your life.
19. ASHAMED Either you're ashamed of something they have done or something you did, either way you need to bring it up.
20. CAN'T REMEMBER The person standing in front of you looks so happy to see you, so relieved, but how do you tell them you can't remember a thing about them?
21. HOW COULD YOU You don't understand how they could treat you like they have, do what they have done when you've done nothing but be good to them.
22. YOUR CHOICE Either choose an option from above, mix and match, or make up your own idea.

yep. totally stolen from memebells.
frolic with your subject lines and be free!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, it's just fine - really. It sounds great, Summer, really great." And he didn't have to fake enthusiasm there, whether she'd made it or not - she was getting it ready for him now and his mouth was ready to water just at the thought of the hearty food. "Thank you again."

He smiled, which grew a little wider as she tured toward him and looked happier for a moment, saying that it really did sound good, that the book seemed familiar, at the very least. He watched her turn away to peel the potatoes, losing himself in that for a moment - so he wouldn't have to think about how she'd probably wanted something like this to go - before she asked that question and he bit his lip, silently hemming and hawing over whether he should be honest or not. On the one hand, he really should probably just say it was fine and leave it at that. On the other... if she knew him as well as he thought she might, she'd know he was lying. And that was no way to rebuild a friendship... let alone something more. Because whether Summer knew it or not, he'd done some thinking and of one thing he was sure - he really must have been a lucky man, and why should he throw that away? Why shouldn't he try to rebuild what they'd had? Either he'd remember, and it would all be fine, or he'd learn to love her again. He'd loved her before, and she obviously still cared for him. That was worth saving, wasn't it?

Especially when... "It's been... not like how I thought it would be," he admitted, glancing down at the book on the table. "I sort of feel like they're going to ask me to pay rent - I mean, my parents have been nice, but... I don't think they were ready to have their son back. I know they didn't know I was coming, but I feel more like a guest in somebody else's home than... " He finally stopped, feeling bad for talking that way about his parents, who really just hadn't expected their son home from war without some kind of warning - nevermind that he'd tried to call them more than a few times, he tried to bite back his bitterness about that. Summer didn't need to hear that. "Mom asked why I didn't just go down to the... the Record, she said, and get my job back. I feel like if I tried to explain that I don't even remember working there... " She wouldn't have gotten it. Some small part of him felt like his parents thought he was faking it, that it was all some game and if they just treated him like nothing was wrong, he'd give in and they could say they'd told him so. "I'm sorry - it's nice, they've been nice, really, that's all you really wanted to hear about it, right?"

Edited 2012-05-04 05:29 (UTC)

As he started to speak, she forgot about the potatoes, after starting the water to boil, and turned to look at him, her eyes watching his face. It broke her heart. And it made her angry. But she wasn't surprised. His parents, from what he'd told her, seemed to be too old to be parents anymore. He was the youngest and perhaps unwanted in a way. But still, they should've been more supportive and it angered her to hear that they weren't. As he went on, she moved her peeling to the table, sitting across from him so she could talk to him properly. Her expression was sympathetic but not pitying.

"It's not nice, Leckie," she corrected him softly. "I was afraid they'd do this. You wrote to me about them... I... I'm so sorry. They should be showering you with love and memories and trying to support you." Because that's exactly what she wanted to be doing, what she could be doing if he let her someday. "Look. My dad likes you. And you're always welcome here if you need somewhere to just get away. My dad has an amazing library." She remembered Leckie's face when he'd first seen it the night of their second date, the way he looked at it in awe. He'd been so much longer then, there were lines on his face now that weren't there before. But still, he was just as handsome as the day he left. And even more so. "I... This is so awkward, I know but... I'm in love with Robert Leckie, which is you. And I want to hear about you, be there for you even if..." He didn't love her back. She finally glanced at the stack of letters, tied with a ribbon. "Those are your letters from the past year. I could give you all of them if you wanted to read them. "

He supposed they were probably trying to be supportive in their own way - after all, if they thought he was faking or if they thought that going on as normal would help then it made sense... but he couldn't help but want them to be a little more supportive. That was why he'd found himself at Summer's door this evening... maybe it had been taking advantage, but when she'd said he could come there if he needed someplace else to go... well, he had. He'd desperately wanted to be somewhere where he knew someone would pay attention to him, actually listen to him instead of nagging or acting like he was being insufferable.

Of course, when she said she'd expected his parents to act this way, that he'd mentioned them before... he felt a little vindicated, even if it still felt like being selfish. but he couldn't help but smile when she said he was still welcome there, nodding a little. And while it did still sound... strange, to have her tell him so simply that she loved him... it wasn't unwelcome. He wasn't caught off guard this time, not like before. He looked over at her, his smile almost turning sad. "I want to say I love you back - I mean, I wish I could, I wish I could remember you because... you seem pretty wonderful and I've only known you the two days - that I can remember," he murmured. And he might have said more, but when she indicated the stack of papers and said they were letters he'd written - "They are? You... you wouldn't mind if I read them?" Maybe they could help, maybe it would be like talking to himself from the past, maybe it would jog something loose.

Edited 2012-05-04 20:33 (UTC)

For someone who used to be able to so easily make her heart swell, he was getting awfully good at breaking it lately. His words felt like a sock to the gut. Because while they were kind, the sentiment was meant to be, it hurt to hear. He didn't love her. And it wasn't anyone's fault. He didn't love her because he didn't know her. She blinked at his words, before glancing down at the potatoes in an attempt to mask her pain. She wanted him to feel welcome here because even if it hurt, seeing his face made it better. And she couldn't just turn him away, not when he was reaching out like this. He was still the man she loved as far as she was concerned. Though she had to wonder if experiences made a man who he was, did that mean that this Robert Leckie was nothing like hers.

When he asked after the letters, she shook her head. "You did right them, so of course you can read them." It was his writing, his words, his thoughts, his love. And sadly she had none of her letters to give him, only stacks upon stacks of his letters, some torn, some worn, many tear-stained. "Maybe it will help." Because the words he wrote were so powerful, he had to feel something reading them.

He might not have seen the pain so clearly on her face, but he saw the way she looked down, and he could guess why. He didn't mean to hurt her - but he couldn't help it, he couldn't say he loved her when no, he didn't know her. But he wanted to know her, he had to start somewhere, right? And he was willing to try, really he was, because... what else did he have? He had nothing, not even his own memories, but he had this beautiful, kind girl who said she loved him and wanted him to love her back. That, to him, was a goal that seemed more than worth reaching for. "I wish I knew what to do," he murmured, wishing for the hundredth, maybe thousandth time that he knew what would bring his memories back. But he didn't - he wasn't sure anyone did - and so all he could do was fumble along in what felt like the dark.

But there was a small ray of hope - he hadn't found any kind of journal at home, but here were letters in his own hand and Summer was willing to give them over for him to read. "Maybe it will," he said hopefully, reaching for the stack, glancing over the first letter. It looked like it had been through the war - well, it had - but the ink was still clear enough to read. The writing was a little messy, mostly cursive but sometimes not, like maybe it had been written over the course of a few days. His eyes scanned the words, almost wondering at them, at how they were put together - he could write like this? He devoured the first letter, then a second, reading about friends and events he could vaguely remember, given that the last few years of his life were just about all he did have, hazy though some of them might be. But the thing was... reading these letters helped bring things back in focus - things that had happened only in the recent past, but it helped nonetheless. When he got to a fourth letter, he stopped, glancing up at Summer, saying quickly - "I think I remember writing this one." He remembered days in a little cabin, complaining about drill after drill, complaining about rats and rotten coconuts with four faces that lined up with names he could remember. "I know I remember writing this one."

Still, his kind words and wishes that he could do more are much better than cold indifference. If he ignored her or pushed her away, like she was afraid he'd do, that would have been far worse than the pull at her heart. "Me too." She glanced up at him for a moment, offering him a sad but supportive smile before she went back to peeling, letting him read over the letters.

She stole glances a few times, to see if anything was clicking but really, he looked more in awe then like he was having any revelations. And as she starts on the last potato, he speaks, says words that inflate her heart with hope. She looks at him both alarmed and relieved. "Really? Which one is it? What do you remember?" She was trying to help him, trying to draw out whatever memories she could. She wasn't sure if that would help but she had to try, just like he was determined to try to know her.

He can't ignore her, not when she's the first - the only - person to be kind to him since he stepped off that bus and into a life he doesn't understand. And he definitely can't ignore her when it's clear how much she's hurting, how much what they had meant to her. He has no right to take that away from her - not when it's something he wants to cling to, himself.

"This one," he moved to show her the letter, one whose content was not particularly eventful, but still. "I remember writing it. I know where I was, I remember everyone horsing around while I was trying to write it..." It was hard to describe. He couldn't quite remember how he was feeling, what was going on in his head. He couldn't remember writing it to her, specifically, but still. "It's like remembering a snatch of something from a dream. It's maybe not all there... but some of it is." He moved to touch the paper, like maybe tactile sensation would help, but... "I don't think I remember what I was thinking, though." He couldn't remember more about her. But this had to be a start, didn't it?

There's new hope here. And even if there wasn't, Summer had already decided to cling to what she had. She wasn't going to give up on him, not ever. She'd make him love her again if she had to. She'd wait however long it took for him to remember and if he never did, she'd still be with him if he let her. She listened to him, her attention solely on him as he spoke, her lips curving up into a hopeful smile.

"That's really good, Leckie. Seriously." It was better than nothing and she knew it wasn't like the story books where everything gets fixed overnight. It would take time if it even happened at all. "Do you remember anything about the people you were with?"

That fact, that she'd stand by him, help him, support him however this went... that would mean more than anything to him, that alone could make him fall in love all over again. And if he could - if he had to, because he never fully remembered how things should be - he would, he knew he would. Honestly, even if this had been some kind of first date, he was already touched, she'd already made an impression and it had been less than half an hour.

He couldn't help but smile back as she smiled at him, liking that look on her face so much more than the tears, the desperation and hopelessness. "Yeah, some - I mean... it's funny. I remember my buddies, I know their names, I was worried about them. Hoosier and Chuckler - Bill and Lew," he remembered, "they were talking about some comic or other, which superhero was better. I remember that, I told them to can it or take it outside, I was trying to write..." It was coming back to him a little better, and a flash or two of feeling with it. "I wanted to finish this letter," he said, setting it down on the table. "I wanted to send it home as fast as I could, I remember that." He couldn't remember why - though when he remembered eventually, he'd know it had been because he hadn't gotten one off in some time, and he hadn't wanted Summer to worry. "At least... I think I did." He stared at the letter, second-guessing himself, adding, "It's like trying to remember something.. like a dream that you thought was a memory until you realize it isn't - only it's the other way around."

She didn't want to rush him, to push him, but oh, she wanted him to hurry up and get better. She wanted him to know her, to remember the things she'd told him in those letters, things she'd never told anyone. Her dreams, her hopes, her fears, the way she felt about love, and being left behind. All of that was lost and she was scared to have to tell it to him in person, it was so much easier in letters. But she tried to smile when he went on, seeming to remember everything but her. It was slightly devastating but she didn't let it show.

"Maybe if you read some more... wrote down those memories in a journal, that might help, you know?" Maybe piece by piece he'd eventually remember his whole life. "I wish I could help you somehow. I mean... all I can do is answer your questions." And that was unfair, she wished she could do more. She stood up to put the potatoes in the boiling water before starting the oven to reheat the pot roast.

He knew it must be hard, to listen to him remember things that didn't really involve her - he wished it could be different, she wasn't the only one who wanted him to get better right now. He was out of the Marines, discharged, they couldn't send him back - and yet that war had followed him all the way home, to Rutherford, where he couldn't remember anything of the twenty-one years he'd supposedly lived here.

But what Summer said was a good idea; he nodded, pulling over more of the letters to look at, like maybe they could help, like reading more would get things moving that much faster. Of course, as she said she wished she could help more and moved to stand, he turned in the chair, eyes following her across the kitchen as he said, "No - Summer, you've helped more than anyone. I mean it. I remember everything since the moment I woke up on the Navy evac ship, and no one has been as caring or as patient or as kind as you have been to me since I've been home. And I know I must be hurting you terribly - " He couldn't help it, he moved to stand from the table, wanting to approach her, to touch her on the arm, but maybe that was wrong, maybe it was too soon, maybe it wouldn't mean the right things. "I wish I wasn't hurting you the way I am. I wish I was better, for you." Because all he knew was that she was hurting, and it was his fault.

It was hard but it was progress. It was better than nothing. And at this point, she was desperate, would take what she could get, honestly. And if all she got for a while were little glimmers of hope, small fractured memories while he sat near her, she'd take it. Because after years of waiting for him, why couldn't she wait longer?

As he went on to explain that no one had been helping him as much as she did, she glanced back at him with a sad expression because that was just wrong. How could they not see the amazing man that she saw, even if he couldn't remember all the things that made him amazing. How could they not be patient or kind when he was so kind even to a girl that now meant nothing to him. And as he continued to talk, she blinked a few times, fighting back tears that kept trying to find their way down her cheeks. God, she'd been crying so much, how did she even have tears left? "It's not your fault, Leckie..." Her mouth twisted a little as she tried to figure out what to say as he moved closer, her heart starting to race because all she could think about were the fantasies of them being married, of him kissing her in the kitchen or them being together. She looked up at him with a soft, sad smile. "I do know that being away from you hurts more than this. And I know it has to be hard and strange for you but... I'd rather spend more time with you than have you slip away."

Even the fact that she looked sad, disappointed when he told her - earnestly - that she'd helped him more than anyone meant a hell of a lot. But as he approached her he stopped, seeing the way her eyes were shining, the way she was blinking too fast, thinking that touching her might just make things worse, might hurt her more. Part of him wanted to kiss her - to just jump into things like that and be all right with them, because clearly it was where she'd wanted things to be. But part of him felt like that would ruin things, would be a lie, even if he actually did think she was pretty and kind and worth kissing, certainly.

Of course, when she said that being away from him hurt more, it in some selfish way made him feel better, like he could be close to her, spend time with her and not feel like it was a terrible thing. "I don't want to slip away from you, not if I was so important - if we were so important," he said, and he meant it. "I don't know where to pick up, but I know that if nothing else, you are someone I feel like I can turn to... someone I feel can help me find me again."

His words made her heart swell and break at the same time. And she couldn't help herself, she moved to wrap her arms around his torso and pull him in for a hug. Because even if she wanted to kiss him, she figured a hug would be okay, that maybe it'd give him some comfort, somehow. She stood on tip toe and tucked his shoulder beneath her chin, just holding him for a moment if he let her.

"We can just... start from the beginning." It was awful but it was what he needed, she suspected. It would be what was best for him. "I want to help you, I will if I can but..." She paused, pulling back to look at him. "What if you don't remember... I mean will you stay or go?"

A hug was more than okay - and it was comforting in a way that he'd forgotten how to be comforted, almost. The hug his mother had given him had been nothing like this; this was something he returned easily, tightly, not making a move to pull back because honestly... he didn't want to, his hands moving to rest loosely on her back as he closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair - a scent that almost made him jerk with recognition, but of what he didn't know. He just knew that he knew it, and that fact alone made him smile, even if she couldn't see it. He inhaled again, deeply, letting that scent wash over him. Somehow, that scent really felt like home.

So much so that when she started talking, he didn't move to pull away then, either. She was right, starting from the beginning was... well, a good start, although - "It's all rehash to you," he murmured, finally pulling himself away just a little to look at her, hands still on her hips, testing those waters. "But I'd like to try that... if it's not too hard for you."

He was pretty sure she didn't mean here, now, tonight, when she asked about staying or going. "I don't know. I don't... feel like there's anything here for me now, other than you," he admitted honestly. He could go ask for his job back, yes... but how would that work out? Could he, should he pretend nothing had happened, should he tell them he'd lost his memory, and how would that affect his employment? "I have to get a job," he said. "I'm sure my parents would let me stay with them, but..." he wasn't sure how long, or how well that would go. One full day and he was already climbing the walls.

"But this time... you're here instead of a million miles away." It felt like a million to her. It feel like an impossible distance each time she wrote a letter. So she wondered that if they could fall for each through letters, why couldn't he fall for her here? In person? It'd be hard for her, harder almost than him being gone but she wanted to do it because she still loved him. With everything she had.

However the hope she got from his first words was dashed by what he said next in response to her question. There wasn't anything here for him, he was right. Except her. And she didn't feel like she was something enough for him to stay, not since he didn't love her. "You could take my place at the hospital. Helping out. I mean, it'd be good, maybe. You could talk to doctors and help your fellow soldiers? And as for a place to stay..." Well, she was pretty sure her father wouldn't stand for him staying here but she could ask. "We have a guest room here. Or maybe you could stay my uncle's place. He lives a few blocks away, he can always use the help around the house. He was wounded in the first war."

"Which might make things harder on you," he said, just as she was thinking the same thing. It didn't mean he was going to leave, of course - just now he really didn't have anywhere to go, but where she was wrong was that there might not be much else for him here, but she was here and at the moment, she was all he had. She was a real, living, breathing link to his past, to something good that he wanted to find again. And that was a better start than he'd ever imagined he'd have.

And just to prove it, seemingly, she went on, listing off a number of possibilities - something for him to do, somewhere for him to stay, and he couldn't help but smile down at her a little. "Well... I wouldn't want to take your place. Maybe I could get hired on my own merit - it doesn't take a memory to clean or carry things, right?" If they could use a janitor, or an orderly... besides, he sort of liked the idea of working with her, not instead of her. "And I really wouldn't want to impose on your dad... but maybe if your uncle could use help... I don't need a lot of space. I don't have much." All that had been left in his room were some books and the typewriter, add to that his seabag and those were about all he owned in the world.

He couldn't say that this was how he thought this life might be, when he came home - but then, he really had no idea what he had wanted his life to be, and a job and a place to stay (that wasn't with his parents) was nothing to scoff at. "You really think that could all work out?"

"That's true," she nodded when he said it didn't take much to get hired as an orderly or something. She could put in a good word for him and after all her father had done for that hospital, they'd listen. Absolutely. "It wouldn't be an imposition, I just don't think he'd find it proper... Us living under the same roof and not..." Married. She couldn't say the word. But she nodded. "My uncle's been looking for help and I know he has a soft spot for veterans. He'd say yes in an instant if I asked him." Because she was the darling of the family, let's be honest. The men of the Roberts variety had a hard time saying no to her.

She smiled at him, at his question with confidence. "Yes. I know it can." Because she wanted it to and she was determined to make it happen. She felt more hope in that moment than she had in a long while. "I'll do anything for you, to make you feel better."

Edited 2012-05-05 18:24 (UTC)

With her putting in a good word for him, he was sure to get the job, and maybe it would help, somehow - maybe he could help, because he knew what it was like to be laid up in a hospital and there were still plenty of men there. He didn't know if it would help with his memory, but it would help him move on in one way or anything, and so he nodded gratefully. Though when Summer said her father probably wouldn't find it proper, his smile flickered a little and he nodded again.] Well, things are... complicated, either way. So maybe it's best if we're not under the same roof, right?" If things came to that, down the road... they'd come to it. And he could tell, even without her saying so, that it was something she wanted. So that was starting to make it something he wanted to give her, even without knowing really why. "Well, I am a veteran," he pointed out - which of course she knew - when she said her uncle was more likely to hire him because of it. "And we ought to help each other. I'd be grateful if you could give me his number. I don't mind calling him, myself." He felt grateful that Summer was offering to do this all for him, but how could he let her? He was supposed to be getting his life back, or at least getting a life back, and he wasn't afraid to ask around for help to do it, when he knew where to ask.

Though really, what mattered in this moment was how much happier Summer looked - it set him at ease more than he realized, to see her smiling more than the opposite. Of course, when she said she'd do anything... he found his hand touching her face before he even realized it was happening, but even though his heart was racing and he wasn't sure if she'd pull away, he left it there when he said, "I don't know what I did, to have someone like you looking out for me, Summer Roberts. I must have been a saint."

She saw the way his smile faltered when she mentioned the propriety of the situation, she wondered if that hurt his feelings or made him feel too much pressure and decided not to bring it up again. "Yeah, I guess so," she said softly as she moved to check the potatoes, it wasn't an escape tactic, she honestly needed to check them. Once she was sure they were boiling correctly, she turned back to him, smiling as he pointed out that he was, in fact, a veteran. "I'll write it down for you before you leave." She wasn't offended that he wanted to do things on his own, Leckie had always been independent like that and she didn't mind him feeling the need to set his own life to rights. She wanted to give him help however he wanted to take it.

But then he was touching her face, making her eyes flutter a little at the touch she craved so much. She smiled at his words, a tender, touched smile. "You were just... you. And you still are." And she still loved him so much it made her soul ache. "Not a saint. You were kind of a trouble maker, actually." Her smile widened a little before speaking. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll help you however I can. I promise."

It hadn't made him feel pressured in the way she thought, really - more in the way that he wanted to be whoever he'd been, for himself and for her. He watched her go to check on the potatoes, but it was with a small, grateful smile that it seemed to be simply because they needed checking, and not because she wanted to get away from him. "Thank you," he said earnestly, when she said she'd be sure to give him her uncle's information before he left. He had no problem with getting help, but he did want to have a hand in things, he didn't want her to do all the work.

"Well... I admit that's a little easier to live up to," he admitted with a soft laugh, thinking she was absolutely gorgeous when she smiled. After all, troublemaking was easier than sainthood, and if she'd liked him for him... it was hard to give her that when he still didn't know much about who he was, but he was trying at the least to be genuine and hoped that would be a good start. His hand slid down to touch her arm instead as he genuinely gave her offer some consideration. "Honestly... I want to hear about you. I mean, I know I should already know it, but... " He shrugged a little helplessly. It was a little overwhelming to hear all these things about a life he couldn't remember. He sort of wanted to hear about someone else for a while, and she seemed like a very, very good place to start. "I mean, if you felt like telling me about it."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't need to thank her but she had a feeling that he did, that he wanted to thank her so she let him, offering him a smile in return before he moved on to comment on what she said next. "You weren't the really bad kind of rebel, just a trouble maker." Of course as his hand slid down her arm, she almost trembled with how perfect it felt, how much she just wanted more of it. "About me?" She realized that it was true, he didn't know anything about her anymore. And he had no letters to learn from. She glanced at him when he said he should already know, shaking her head. "But you don't. It's okay, I mean... I don't mind. I just don't know where to start."

What was important to this Robert Leckie? How did she begin sharing a life she'd already been sharing with him. "I'm twenty one years old." An old maid by some people's standards. "I've lived in this house my whole life. My father is a surgeon, he does reconstructive surgery so lately he's been traveling a lot, the government pays him to help soldiers." She moved to stir the potatoes, unable to say the next part without sound a little shaky. "My mother died when I was eleven giving birth to a boy. He didn't survive either." She chewed on her lip for a moment before glancing back at him. "I've been working at the hospital because I thought that being around the soliders and cheering them up would somehow help me miss you less. And you seemed to really appreciate the fact that I did that. So it only made me want to stick with it."

"Well, I guess it's up to someone to keep things interesting," he chuckled softly, though he was admittedly glad to hear he'd been involved in more good-natured trouble than outright rebellion. But she was right - he had no way to learn about her other than to ask, and he thought that maybe talking about herself might be easier for her. Besides, it was something he genuinely wanted to hear. So when she said she didn't know where to start, he shook his head a bit. "Anywhere is fine. Just... talk." It didn't matter what was important to him, he just wanted to know what was important to her, how she'd gotten here, what had brought them together. His hand fell away as he listened intently to what she said, nodding a bit here or there. If her father was a surgeon, that explained why she'd been drawn to hospital work. And maybe he should be surprised she hadn't been snatched up and married already, but if he'd been gone for four years and she'd been waiting for him... the thought broke his heart, because the man who had come back was not the man she'd wanted, and he knew it. It had been clear on her face the first instant she'd realized he didn't even remember her name.

He was sad to hear that her mother was gone, though - her mother and her brother, that had to have been hard, he couldn't even imagine. "I'm sorry," he murmured; it felt hollow, helpless, but he couldn't not say it. Still, he smiled a little more when she said she'd stuck with hospital work. "I'll bet you're more than a sight for sore eyes. I hope it helped you... and I'm glad you like it." It said a lot about her, the kind of work she wanted to do, whether he'd appreciated it or not. Because he had a feeling that she would have done it either way, she seemed like that sort of a person. "I can tell you're very giving - I just showed up on your doorstep and you're making me dinner," he pointed out, nodding toward the boiling potatoes. "I'm glad you're doing what you're doing - you seem like someone who'd be perfect for the job."

Of course, speaking of giving - "Look, let me help get things ready, I feel bad just standing here. I'm sure I can mash potatoes if you show me how." They looked to be about done boiling and she'd have to keep an eye on the pot roast. "Or let me pour you something to drink." He just wanted to help out, wanted to give something back to her, because she was giving him so much.

Edited 2012-05-05 20:22 (UTC)

There had been other marriage offers. Some from the boys in the hospitals, half-joking, half-serious in their loneliness. And even a boy from the down the street had asked her out on dates, dates she didn't go on, only to come to her father and ask for her hand. Her father had refused it because he knew well enough that Summer's heart was set on someone else. That was part of the tragedy of it. She'd been waiting so long for him to come home to her, for their lives to begin because while he was at war, her life had stood still, she'd made sure it. Now, she didn't know what was to come of it. But she didn't regret waiting for him because it was the right thing to do, because she loved him.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, hearing him say he was sorry for the death of her mother, her brother, something he had done when they were kids, out of obligation. It was something she'd lived with for many years now, the sting had lessened but never gone away. She'd said so in her letters to him, that sometimes the loss of her mother haunted her and losing him would be her undoing. So now her ground is shaky because he was alive but lost.

As he spoke of her work at the hospital, she smiled. "Yeah, you military boys can be pretty randy sometimes." It wasn't anything she couldn't handle and she never felt unsafe or uncomfortable. The occasional cat call was about as offense behavior as she experienced. "But they knew I was taken." Her mouth twisted a little at that, it was a bit of a smile but not quite. "It's not something I want to do forever but I wanted to do my part for the effort, you know?" She wanted to do it until he came home, then maybe a little longer until they could get married, start a family. Maybe it was a simple dream but it was hers. "Thank you for thinking so."

When he offered to help, she just smiled and shook her head. "I'm okay, honestly. I don't mind it. But if you're thirsty, my father has a bar in the study you're welcome to. Or we have some wine, if you'd like some of that." She moved to get a cloth before pulling the potatoes off the boiler to drain.

The war had put virtually everyone's lives on hold, he'd certainly picked up on - and remembered - that much. Some people had rushed into marriage only to be separated, and he could imagine that had been something he and Summer hadn't been ready for. Selfishly, he was glad for it now, because having her husband come back from war with no memory of their time together would have been worse than even this, no matter how deep feelings ran. But the fact that she'd waited for him, that she had still been waiting for him after six months of no letters, hadn't failed to make an impression on him - a deep one that had formed a connection and there was no way he could leave her, give up on this now. If he knew anything, it was that she was worth keeping, worth trying to remember for, worth giving another chance. Because she was doing the same for him, and he could only imagine how lucky he was to have her - especially when he was as good as dead and this might very well be worse, standing here in her kitchen unable to give her what she wanted. Again he wondered if things wouldn't have been better that way, for her, but he couldn't change them. He could only move forward and take this second chance at life.

"Now that I do remember," he finally chuckled, at her description of military boys - he knew it was accurate, could only imagine the reaction she got walking through those hospital halls. But she seemed more amused than offended, though when her mouth twisted so did hers, when she said she was taken. He wanted to say something more, something about how he wanted to be that man, but it still felt like a lie, like he was an impostor and the real Robert Leckie would come pushing through the front door demanding his girl back. "Well, I'm sure they appreciated it just as much as I must have, and I'm glad you did it." Maybe it was something she had needed, something those soldiers had needed too.

Of course, when she said she really didn't need help he wouldn't push, though he had to admit, "I don't even know if I can hold my liquor - better safe than sorry, I suppose." She'd mentioned coffee, so that would be fine for him. "I'm fine for now, I just wanted to help if you needed it. I'm sure it's been a long day for you, especially if you weren't feeling up to much. Though sometimes the more you lie around, the harder it is to get up again." His way of saying that he understood just how low you could slump, how he understood that sometimes you just had to make yourself get up and do things and if she really wanted to do them, he'd let her. "I admit, my mom was sure ready to have me take up my chores again, if nothing else," he said, trying for a little bit of humor again.

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Ahhh and then I got kidnapped ALL AFTERNOON LONG

it's okay I just got home.

<33! Though I may crash early, I am EXHAUSTED

<333 i know the feeling. I'll be around a little tomorrow but I'm going out tomorrow night <3

<3 No worries! Somewhere fun I hope! o/

cinco de mayo parties!

Ooh, yes, fun!

<3

\o/

c:

\o/

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