openish } but nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight

[choosetruth]

Who: the After the End Times crew and maybe YOU??
Where: ASGARD! Sort of.
When: Throughout the event
Rating: PG-13 for violence and swear words probably
Summary: Shaun makes poor sartorial choices that lead to his demise. Georgia does not handle it well. Thank fuck Mahir and Maggie are here to be the adults they need.
The Story:

[Starters in the comments!]

Comments

[choosetruth]

[She isn't quite broken enough to start giggling hysterically but a corner of her mouth does twitch. Get some sleep. Yeah, right.]

I couldn't, even if I wanted to.

[She learned how to sleep without Shaun when she was in the CDC, but it was one of the first things she unlearned back in Wonderland. Her entire life, he's never been more than a room away, and here, they've been sharing a bed every night. She's not exactly snuggly, but she likes that he's in arm's reach. She likes being able to hear him breathe and know he's still alive and with her.

Kind of defeats the purpose if he's not alive. She shoves her sunglasses back on. They won't stop the tears she can feel welling up, but maybe if she blinks enough they won't leak out onto the rest of her face. Fuck, she misses being incapable of crying.]

[postictal]

Take a break, George.

[The words are firm, but his tone is - quiet. Almost gentle. What a joke, right? That's all it takes to torque Tim right around from ungrateful, callous, moronic asshole to someone who gives a damn.]

[Maybe he always gave a damn, and never cared to admit it.]

You deserve that much, okay?

[choosetruth]

[Why can't she stop her fucking eyes from leaking like this? It wasn't worth the debilitating headaches. The last event reminded her far too keenly of that. But times like this she still kind of misses her old eyes. She hated that she couldn't cry. But she hates it even more now that she can.]

I don't want a break. I don't want to leave him. I can't, I--

[She breaks off, scrubbing roughly at her eyes under her sunglasses.]

I need to be here.

[postictal]

He's still gonna be here.

[The words are low, and as soft and easy as they get, with Tim. Maybe not enough, but fuck, what the hell else is he supposed to do? She's holding it together, but barely. More frayed and at the end of her rope than he's ever seen her. He's been vulnerable, left trembling and hollow at the end of someone else's camera, too often for that to rankle like it would have once.]

[But she's not had to adjust, the way he has, to having your private turmoil broadcasted on all channels.]

Just...an hour. Two hours. Something.

[choosetruth]

[She shakes her head, pressing her knuckles against her mouth. He means well. A lot of people mean well when they gently suggest that maybe, just maybe, this isn't the healthiest way to cope. Like she doesn't know. Like she cares. She died and Shaun started talking to her ghost. Shaun dies and she loses the will to carry on.

Codependent is such an ugly word. She's always hated the way people throw it at them, like it's something she should be ashamed of. Like it was anything but inevitable, growing up the way they had, tangled up and loving each other enough to make up for all the ways their parents didn't.

It might not be healthy, but it's so much better than any of the other alternatives.]

It wouldn't help. It would be worse not being here.

[postictal]

[How do you process grief?]

[Not like he's got any right way of knowing. People die, and then you're left not knowing what to do with yourself in compensation. Bereft. What the hell are you supposed to do when you lose someone and know they'll come back? He doesn't even know what you're meant to do when you don't know if they'll be coming back.]

It's gonna take hours. Days.

[choosetruth]

I know. [Her voice breaks a little. She's all too aware of how long it'll take. She's been counting down the minutes.] I know. I'll rest then. Please stop asking.

[postictal]

[Don't. Don't do this to her, goddamn you. Not when she's so close to breaking.]

I'm -

[I'm sorry.]

I just - I'm gonna worry. You know that, right?

[choosetruth]

[She didn't really know that, but she supposes it's reasonable. She'd probably worry about her too.

She gives herself a precious few seconds to compose herself, breathing in and rubbing her face, before looking up at him.]

I'll be okay. [Her voice is steady again. With her eyes covered, she could almost pass for fine.] I'm not going to let him come back to a world I'm not in. He's already had to live through that once.

[postictal]

He won't.

[Maybe it's a stupid consolation. A promise no one can exactly keep. But he owes it to her - for her to know that. Because he can deny it all he likes, tearing open the words like an itching scab and salting them and burning them, insisting they don't mean a damn thing because he knows how "friends" end up, when he lets them near.]
[Knowing that no amount of denial will make what they already are go away.]
You know there's no chance of that. [Next to no chance. But maybe he should - ]


[Maybe he should check.]


...

Is there?

cw suicidal ideation

[choosetruth]

There isn't.

[It's a reasonable fear, honestly, but unfounded. Though it's a reasonable conclusion to make that Georgia might be made suicidal by losing Shaun, it wasn't going to be an impulsive choice. She might be having trouble holding herself together but she remained desperately sane and heart-breakingly rational.

Shaun had been able to hallucinate her ghost to keep him company. Georgia can't lie to herself that well. But she also can't lose herself entirely in her grief. She knows Shaun is coming back. She can keep herself alive alone for that long. If he's not back by then for some reason all bets are off, but he will be back. He has to be.

Of course there are all the frost giants and stuff and she should probably be more worried about that since she's not really in a good place to defend herself, but she can't bring herself to worry that much. Besides, it's not like Tim would be able to do anything about them either.]

I'd die for Shaun if I had to. I'd even lie for him. But I'm not doing either today.

[postictal]

[Maybe it should surprise him, that she gets what he's asking without him having to spell it out. Maybe it should, but - given her world, given the way conversations between the two of them have gone, it doesn't. Given everything, it really...doesn't.]

[Maybe that should disturb him too.]

[Like so many things, it doesn't.]


[...]

[He believes that. Can't think of anything else to say, but he believes that she's not planning on anything. Can't think of anything else to say, so - ]

You want company?

[choosetruth]

[She shrugs a shoulder.]

I want Shaun. But I'm not getting him for another two days.

[It doesn't answer his question. It's just really hard for her to think past that right now.]

But you can stay if you want. I can't promise to be particularly fun, but I don't mind.

[postictal]

'S not about what I want right now.

[She wants Shaun. Of course she does. Nothing will ease that. Nothing will make it go away. There's no waiting for things to get easier over time, because it'll never happen. That's just the long and short of it. That's just how it works.]

[They'd both know.]

Just - if you'd rather be alone, that's fine. I'm just...

[God, he really is the goddamn worst at this.]

I'm here. If you need that.

[choosetruth]

[It would be easier if she knew what she wanted, honestly. She's dull and numb and nothing matters past her loneliness and pain. It's a horrible way to feel, and she hates it.

There's a part of her that is aware that this is pathetic, that she's acting like one of the characters' in Buffy's stories, going all to pieces without a man. It's, well, not very Georgia Mason of her. Georgia Mason never cried. The fact that it was physically impossible for her before her death is besides the point, it still feels wrong. Georgia Mason would not have handled losing her brother well, but she wouldn't have sat by his body sobbing about it. Of course, that's because back home, he wouldn't be coming back.

There are all sorts of extenuating circumstances. It's still hard to shake the reminder that she just isn't actually Georgia Mason. She's a clone. A close but not perfect copy. Would the real Georgia have been any better at dealing? They'll never know because the real Georgia died before she had to.

But she knows the real Georgia never liked to appear weak in front of anyone. She feel very much like Georgia Mason right now. But she can pretend. Sometimes it feels like she doesn't do anything but pretend.

She straightens and looks over at Tim, chin tilted up. She doesn't look like she's okay, she knows. Good posture and sunglasses hide a lot but they can't fix everything. But hopefully she looks, at least, somewhat confident.]

I'd rather be alone. But thanks.

[Is it true? Fuck if she knows. But at least it's decisive. That's something.]

[postictal]

[She only looks a fraction Georgia Mason at the moment, it's true. Straightening her shoulders and tightening her chin and looking all the world like how she tries to come across; untouched and untouchable, even if he could tell her different. It's the little tells that derail it, but maybe that's because he knows enough to look for them.]

[She'd rather be alone. She's not in any danger for herself, and...]

[Fuck. He's not any good at this anyway.]

Okay.

[He won't protest. He can...he'll leave her to it.]

[He's good at that.]