[JMM] 28.2.1 A problem shared is a problem halved

[thepainted_lady]

[ooc: AU 'verse based on spin-off from Heroes graphic novels "Bloodlines, part 1 & 2" - Joseph not aimed at any particular journal. Samuel is offering_hope].

Eastern Europe, Christmas, 2008

Lydia stood in the shadows of the trailer, stunned. She couldn't have heard Joseph right, couldn't have. Surely she must have been distracted by the horror of what he described to Arnold, about Coyote Sands, and misheard what he asked the time traveler to do, yes? And if she hadn't been? If she had heard him correctly? Something inside her heart seemed to constrict tightly, a fluttering, aching feeling that made it hard to breathe. There was nothing she could do. Arnold was already gone, and if he did what Joseph had asked...her whole world would change.

But Christmas morning dawned and the world was still the same. Lydia watched Joseph with speculative eyes, watched his darting looks at Samuel, the worry around his eyes, and she finally dared ask where Arnold was, a picture of innocence. Joseph didn't answer, not really, just saying something about work the time traveler had to do, but later he came with Samuel to her trailer asking them to use their new found ability to work together and find Arnold.

Samuel's fingers were warm on her skin, the pierce of the needle quickly familiar, and she reached out for the lost family member a little desperately, even as she tried to hold on to the presence of the man next to her.

"Arnold's not missing in the past," Lydia said, looking back over her shoulder at Joseph. "He's right here, in the present day."

Even as old as he was, even with the tumor, it was possible Arnold could still travel, she thought, once they had him back home. Joseph's words rang in her ears, praising her and swearing her to secrecy about Emile Danko. Or, well, not secrecy, but just asking her not to tell Samuel. He wasn't going to send Arnold back again. He apparently wasn't that cruel to someone so frail--just to family. His intentions came through loud and clear as his hands curled around her hands.

Couldn't he see that fate had been on Samuel's side? That something greater than he was had stepped in to stop him murderous intent? He'd sent Arnold back to murder a baby in his crib. Her mind flashed to Amanda, to her lost baby, the one she ached for every day, so helpless against the world, and the thought of her idol doing something like that, and to someone she...her heart twisted.

This Danko person had killed Arnold's son. She'd just told Joseph that, and again he was planning to put his own blood in the line of fire.

For a while she sat in her trailer, robe wrapped tight around her, torn between loyalty to the man who had saved her and the growing feelings that had taken root so many years before and blossomed more each year. Her idol's feet were made of clay, apparently, and that hurt. And Samuel...had done nothing to deserve such a fate.

Mind made up, the bitter feeling of betrayal burning inside of her, she made her way across the space that separated her trailer from Samuel's and knocked lightly. He had the right to know what Joseph was planning, and to protect himself, and she'd do whatever it took to help him.

Comments

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Panic surged through her, though whether it was fully hers or something she was picking up from him, as well, Lydia couldn't be sure. She didn't dare stand in his way, but she did reach out a hand, fear clenching and churning around inside of her. "Samuel...be careful...please."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

In spite of his arguments on his brother's behalf, there was fear and uncertainty both running under Samuel's skin as she touched him. He didn't want to believe her, wanted to continue thinking that his brother was the best of them all, but why else would Joseph have sent Arnold back in time if not to kill him? Why else would he have done so many of the things he'd done lately? It brought everything into a new light -- made Joseph's actions make sense even if there was no reason to the motive behind them -- and it frightened him.

"I'll be fine," he told her in spite of that undercurrent of terror. "He wouldn't -- if you're right, he wouldn't dare do anything to me where everyone could see."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Her fingers stroked slowly down his arm, trying to soothe and part of her wished she had Joseph's brand of empathy in that moment, to truly be able to soothe him, even if it was manipulative in nature. She would offer him what peace she could, and she didn't know how to offer what it was clear he needed.

"No, he wouldn't," she agreed quietly. "Nor would he do it himself, I don't think. I...he can't bring himself to, but still...if you corner him..." She bit her lower lip, shook her head. "I couldn't bear it if you got hurt."

She'd just betrayed the one man she thought she'd never turn against to keep it from happening, and that was still tearing at her.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"I'll be fine," he repeated, giving her a serious look that betrayed none of his upset. He even managed a small, albeit hollow smile before pulling away from her slowly. "And I'll be right back. I promise."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia let him go, no more able to hold him back from something he was determined to do than she could stop herself from worrying while he did it. But she nodded a little and took comfort in his assurance. His look might not have betrayed his upset, but she'd felt enough of it rolling off of her to let it match her own misery, and she sank down on one of his chairs, taking his assurance as in invitation to stay.

She didn't think she could be out there, or in her own trailer, and not go searching for them, anyway. Here, at least, she had...some sort of purpose rather than the useless floating, even if it was just worried waiting. "Okay."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

Pulling open the door, he paused just inside it, shooting her an almost pleading glance over his shoulder, hoping desperately that she'd stop him, tell him that this had been some kind of terrible mistake. As much as he was praying for an easy out, however, he didn't bother to wait for her to tell him one way or another, instead turning away to head outside, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he closed the door behind him.

Minutes passed, stretching on for what felt like eternity, and then suddenly, the door exploded inward. Samuel rushed in, panicked and terrified, hurt and on the verge of tears it seemed, all of that written very clearly on his face, and slammed the door behind him. He sunk back into it, sliding down it to collapse in a mess on the floor, his fingers moving to his hair, his breathing painfully erratic and not for how he'd bolted back to the trailer. He said nothing, though, didn't even really acknowledge that Lydia was still there, too busy staring at the floor, haunted.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

The waiting had been interminable, eating away at her, gnawing until she didn't know if she could stand it. More than once, she'd started to rise, to head for the door, to try and find them and intervene, to see if she could talk sense into one or both of them, but fear and uncertainty kept her in the seat she'd chosen, frozen with the knowledge of what she'd done.

When Samuel burst back in, she was compelled up in reaction, but she couldn't move after, not for a moment or two, watching him crumple in on himself. She didn't need to touch him to read the emotion flying off of him, across the room, filling it, circling around. Whatever had happened, whatever had been said, she hadn't been wrong.

Compassion moved her where fear would have confined her, and she finally made it the few steps to his side, sinking down to the floor beside him, hands moving to cradle his face, pulling his trembling into herself.

"Samuel...?"

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He recoiled from her touch, flinching, pressing back against the wall as if he could sink into it and disappear if he tried hard enough. He couldn't quite evade her fingers, however, and there was a stab of terror at the thought of her being able to read him and see the shame and horror that lingered under his skin and know what it meant. But it had been an accident -- he hadn't meant -- his temper had just gotten the best of him. Oh, God, Joseph had been right. He was dangerous.

He curled further into the wall, choking on his explanation even as he tried to get it out. "Joseph, he -- he wanted to talk. Out in the fields. He -- " He couldn't say it; he couldn't tell her that his brother was dead and he'd been the one to kill him.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She didn't want to force her ability between them, or herself into his emotions when he didn't want her there. It was something she tried to be careful of, with friends, with loved ones. Yes, she could see into their souls, knew their hopes, dreams, fears...but it meant more when they shared them, told her of their own volition, or trusted her to offer the touch. Wanting to touch in comfort and knowing others feared what she might see in it kept her far more isolated than she had ever wanted to be.

The terror and shame hit her hard, before she could pull her hands back and leave him to his own emotions. Every bit of her ached to hold him, but didn't want to invade further, and she curled her fingers into fists to keep them to herself, watching him with concern and fear.

She'd gotten enough of a jolt to know something horrible had happened, but she hadn't pried, hadn't pushed deep against his wishes--his terror was enough to scare her, though. "What happened? What did he do?"

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"You were right," he blurted out, wrapping his arms around him. "He told me -- he was brokering some kind of deal with a man from the government. If nothing else worked, if he couldn't just -- just take care of me, he was going to turn me over to them. Like some kind of rabid animal."

He laughed, the sound equal parts bitter and hysterical, and dug his feet into the floor in an effort to push himself further into the wall. "I got angry. Hurt. Scared. Pick something. It was all too much for Joseph to contain. He -- he's -- he was right, Lydia."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She'd wanted to be wrong. God, she'd wanted to be wrong more than anything in the world. The confirmation made her sick, but not nearly as much as the hurt and bitterness and disgust pouring off of him. She didn't even have to touch him to feel it, and ice seemed to wrap itself around her heart, pinning her in place.

"He wasn't right, Samuel," she whispered, fiercely. "You...whatever happened...he struck first, and he wasn't right..." It had to be bad, though, the way he was shaking, and, really, part of her knew, even as she reached for him, fingers stroking through matted hair. "Tell me..."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"He's dead," he manged finally, his voice no more than a whisper. He felt suddenly as if he was going to be sick and closed his eyes as if that would help, somehow. "I killed him."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Part of her had been expecting it, from the depth of his horror, the way he flinched from her, but the words still came as a near physical blow, gut-wrenching in its horror as it washed over her and she bit back a little sob. She didn't pull away, though tears fell. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, as if she could physically hold him together, or keep the pieces safe for him if he fell apart, to better put them back after. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, even though her voice broke on her words.

"Oh, God...Samuel..." She tried, then, to feel Joseph, but he wasn't there, he was gone, and that emptiness welled. Betrayal or no, he was still the man she'd thought of as a father when she'd tossed off her own, and she could feel Samuel's pain rioting in him, blending with hers until the whole trailer seemed full of it, to her.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He leaned into her reflexively, the need for comfort greater than his need to continue shying away from her. He didn't look at her, however, instead burying his head in her shoulder, his breathing erratic as if he were on the verge of tears himself.

"I'm sorry, Lydia. I'm so sorry."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia tightened her arms around him, rocking a little on instinct, trying to soothe even as she felt her own grief well and surge, running through her painfully.

"It's okay," she murmured, but that was a lie. She tried again. "It'll be all right. We'll find a way to make it okay." She didn't know how, though, not now, not yet. How could anything be okay, ever, after what Joseph had done? After what Samuel had done? She swallowed, feeling all the little broken pieces inside her shattering more. "We can't tell anyone. The family...they can't know. They won't understand...They...need Joseph to be what he was in their eyes, they can't feel his betrayal, too..."

It would shatter the family, and they all needed each other. "They need someone to lead them, Samuel, and Joseph to be their martyr, as much as we know different. We'll...think of something to tell them...". Her mind was racing. "That man from the government...the one he was going to give you to. We'll blame him. He killed Arnold's son. He would have hurt you. He's the enemy anyway."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

In spite of the fact that he was shaking now, still ashamed, he looked up at her and shook his head. "Joseph -- he lied to me, Lydia. He lied to you. This whole thing -- It could have been avoided if he'd just said something. We can't lie to them, too. They need to know."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia looked at him doubtfully. His pain and hers were both swirling through her, and the thought of it ricocheting out through the whole family made her feel sick to her stomach. Part of her wanted to argue, but his words were morally sound, making her feel a wave of shame, and she glanced down. "You think they can handle it? Accept it?"

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He looked away again, taking a deep breath in through his nose and letting it out through his mouth in an effort to stop his stomach from rolling. It didn't help, and he shook his head both at the question and the near riot in his guts. "I don't know."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She ran her fingers lightly over his cheek, then pulled away, standing and moving to look out the window, out at the family, merrily going on about their business. Rubes still were on the midway, a normal night flying around them it seemed, and yet everything had changed. "Sleep on it," she suggested after a few moments. "Or try. Don't make any decisions right now."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He made a soft, near-hysterical noise at the idea, the sound almost a sob, though still no tears fell. He felt too hollow for them, too numb, and with Lydia no longer at his side, the stinging emptiness only grew. He wrapped his arms back around himself, closing his eyes again. "I can't say I'll be sleeping much tonight, but I'll -- I'll think on it. It's ... "

His train of thought evaporated in that instant and he didn't try and catch it, instead contenting himself to sitting there, shivering in silence, waiting for it to come back to him. And it did eventually, though not where it had left off a moment before. "What should we do about the body? He's just -- he's still out there, Lydia. In the fields."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

His pain tugged at her, calling her back to him, and yet she didn't know how to cross the distance--wasn't sure if she would help or make it worse or feed into his pain with her own. It was all a little overwhelming in her head. Still, he looked so lost, felt so lost, and the distance didn't help her find herself any better, that she moved back to him, settling beside him, there if he needed, wanted, her touch, but not pressing it on him.

His question resounded in her, bouncing around the hollow places, and brought tears to her eyes she didn't dare to shed, but she had to fight back the lump in her throat. To leave Joseph out there in the field, alone, all night...it didn't seem right. "...I don't know...we can't just leave him there alone..."

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He leaned into her a bit, still hesitant and raw, and shook his head. They couldn't just leave him, no, but he had no real desire to go out and drag his brother's corpse back, nor did he really want to leave that task to Lydia. "No, we can't. But he's -- I can't, Lydia. I can't go back there. And at the same time, I wouldn't wish the job of bringing him back on anyone else."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia closed her eyes, feeling a shudder deep inside her at the thought of it. "I can do it," she said quietly after a moment. Whether he wanted to leave it to her, or not, if he couldn't...who else would they send? Edgar? She wasn't sure that was the best of ideas, either.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He took a deep breath, sickness rolling in his stomach, and shook his head again. Better him than her. "No. No, it's -- I'll do it."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"I can go with you if you want," she offered, as a compromise. He shouldn't have to face it alone.