[OPEN] You bear the scars, you've done your time;

[lightgunhustler]

Who: Jo Harvelle & you!
Where: Fifth floor training room, the bar and Fort Dixon-Potter.
When: August 12th, throughout the day.
Rating: PG, will alter if needed.
Summary: Loss is inevitable, but still difficult to bear.
The Story:

[ A: Fifth Floor, Room 20, Morning ]

It was entirely by accident that she discovered he was gone. It had been months, now, since she and Tom had seen each other on a regular basis, though they had gone from complete radio silence to very occasional and very brief visits, most of them pet-oriented. They weren't exactly friends, and they certainly weren't what they once had been, but Jo still cared enough that his well-being meant something to her. Him getting help meant something. That morning, she had gone by Tom's new room on the first floor to visit with Jellybean and perhaps, discreetly, check in to make sure Tom was feeding himself. If not, she would have slipped him some breakfast and maybe offered a light scolding before parting ways, but when she got there, Tom himself was nowhere to be found. In fact, nothing that hinted at him ever having been there remained.

No bed, no guitar, no stack of Western novels, no hoodie or rumpled cargo pants on the floor. Nothing at all except for Jellybean herself, the kitten wandering around the room and looking at a loss, mewling pitifully in hopes that her owner would reappear and answer her. Jo felt a knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach -- most of Wonderland would be glad to see Tom gone, all things considered. For a little while, she might have felt the same way, but not now. She grit her teeth as she entered the room to rescue the kitten from her mourning, scooping Jellybean up and letting her come to rest in the crook of her arm. Whatever the human residents of Wonderland might have thought of Tom, it was an opinion Jellybean wouldn't share. Animals didn't judge. To her, Tom wasn't a murderer or a monster or even sick, as Jo had been forced to see him. He was just Tom.

The only other thing left was a platinum band on a chain, left in a heap on the floor. Jo might have missed it if she'd walked away too quickly, but she recognized it for what it was and crouched down to claim it. Normally, Wonderland didn't leave people's belongings behind, but she knew why it had made the exception this time. The ring didn't belong to Tom, it belonged to her. She'd tried to give it back -- but there had never really been any real transfer of ownership. She exhaled slowly, pocketing it as she quickly excused herself.

It would take time to sink in, but for now, she would throw herself into her morning routine -- early, if need be, in order to distract herself, to let herself process. She stopped by her own room on the fifth floor with Jellybean in tow, just long enough to let Jormy join them, the Jack Russel terrier at her heels as she continued to make her way down the corridor. Room 20 had been an empty bedroom for ages, but a few months back she'd put in some mats and gym equipment, along with weapons for training. It wasn't as fancy as the training center that had been put together since then, but it was what she and her short list of students needed -- a place to work with relative privacy.

Today she left the door open behind her as she so often did, allowing both Jormy and Jellybean the freedom to roam if they so desired. Instead, both terrier and kitten perched themselves on the bench that sat beneath the window on the far side of the room, watching curiously as Jo wrapped her hands and began to attack the hanging bag she had set up at full force, each blow causing it to swing a little harder than the last, feeling anger and something else she wasn't quite able to define boiling up within her and pushing her to work harder, as though she'd expend all of that negative energy if she hit it hard enough and her chest would feel less tight.

Instead she felt something within her snap, and rather than take another swing, she felt her shoulders drop and covered her face with her hands before the tears could come. She swallowed them back as best she could, and yet it wasn't nearly enough -- she leaned her back against the wall and let herself slide downwards, slumped against the mat as she cried it all out.

It was another good five minutes before she managed to pick herself up, swallowing the rest down and preparing herself for a second round with the hanging bag. A whole lot of punching things was exactly what she needed to feel better.

[ B: Bar, Afternoon ]

By the time noon rolled around, Jo had managed to pull herself together. She was never public about her grief, keeping it to herself the best she could, and today was no exception. She was working the bar alone that afternoon, as she often did, though today there was far more than slinging whiskey on her agenda -- she'd spent her first half hour at the bar inventing projects for herself, things that didn't necessarily need to be done but that would occupy her.

She always dealt with loss or upset or anger the same way. Hard work was the best cure for any emotional ill, something she'd convinced herself of ages ago. It felt good to accomplish something, to do what you were good at, to bury yourself in something so deeply that you didn't allow yourself too much time to think about exactly what it was that had you down. Most of the time, this method was successful. Today, the results weren't as solid as she would have liked, but a quick glance in the mirror over the back of the bar showed her that she didn't look too much like she'd been crying, which would have to be enough for her.

Anyone who wanders into the bar for the duration of the afternoon will find her either serving or cleaning, and especially quick to tend to their needs -- not quite manic in her eagerness, but near enough that it may seem as though she's compensating for something.

[ C: Resistance Hideout/Fort Dixon-Potter, Evening ]

The hideout was quiet when she got there that evening. She'd made use of it as a training facility in the past, particularly when training Lena a few months back, but her business here tonight was stricly busy-work -- distraction, though admittedly a distraction that would prove useful. Leave it to her to find little things that needed to be done for the sake of some kind of catharsis.

Passing through the main room was difficult. She hadn't been there since the big meeting back in June, and it had been difficult enough with a room full of people. Now it was just her, and even though there was no stain on the floor to show where Tom's blood had been spilled back in February, she could see it as though it had never been cleared away. She remembered firing those shots all too clearly. It didn't matter that it had been the right thing to do, that she'd saved herself and who knows how many other people in the process -- he'd already taken lives, but surely he would have gone on to take more if she hadn't done anything at all. Still, it haunted her. For awhile, she hoped that maybe it might stop. It had been some time since she'd resigned herself to the fact that it probably wouldn't.

She forced herself to look away, heading back towards the weapon stores. It was time to take inventory. She'd figure out what they had, figure out who knew how to use what, and then see about setting some more lessons in motion. Whether it was her that taught them or Natasha, it didn't matter, so long as they were getting people armed and ready and safely able to use the weapons in question. Anyone who entered the hideout that night would find her with a clipboard and pencil, counting and re-counting both the contents of the arsenal as well as the current food supply. Given what they knew about what was to come, squirreling away as much food as possible was a priority, too.

Comments

Bar, because Harvelles.

[justrunsasaloon]

Ellen bobbles the box of jars and curses, bumping open the door. Seeing her daughter she wonders what's got her cleaning in a way that says dirt personally offends her.

Something's going on. Jo only cleans like that if something is wrong.

Ellen nudges the door closed behind her. "Hey Jo, honey, can you come give me a hand?" Last batch of moonshine for a while. Next is Rum. She's going to make it just because.

[lightgunhustler]

Jo is on her hands and knees when Ellen enters; there's been a brief slow period this afternoon, and she's chosen to take the opportunity to scrub a few spots on the floor that have been bothering her for awhile -- likely residual stains from when Adam dragged himself in here bleeding a couple of months back, looking for help. She'd gotten most of it out then, but blood stains were always killer. The results is that she's up to her elbows in soapy water, but she's able to glance over her shoulder at Ellen and finds that it takes effort to keep herself from snapping entirely, angry. Now she decides to show up.

She exhales slowly, restraining herself for the time being.

"Little busy," she remarks before turning back to her scrubbing. "And I'm not serving my customers moonshine. I've been running this place for over a year, and who knows how long Dean and Philip ran it before that. They're used to the real stuff. God knows we all need it."

[justrunsasaloon]

Ellen sighs. Seems Jo is in a Mood and she isn't sure why. If some other man had hurt her baby... she'll hand over the 357 and let Jo handle it. Hopefully it will be resolved.

"Some of our customers like it, Jo." Not that Ellen really cares whT they drink. "This is the last batch for a while anyway." She settles the box on the bar and manages not to drop it. "Wanna talk about it?" She doubts she'll get anything but Jo is her baby girl and she has to fix it, if she can.

C!

[freewill]

Castiel can't explain why he bothers to patrol when he realizes there won't be another event for some time, but in light of what he went through in the last one, he's been even more distant than usual. He's well aware that Wonderland only played a trick on them, but all of it had felt real at the time.

He'd thought himself a demon. More than that, a fallen angel, which he is in nearly every sense of the term, but in this case there had been a punishment. He'd lost his divinity, and most of his morals and conscience along with it.

Three days hadn't been long enough for him to do much damage, but Dean had, and Castiel suspects that he's dealing with that in his usual way, by drowning himself in alcohol. That won't do much for Castiel, not unless he puts a great deal of effort into it, and so instead he wanders. Down by the beach, through the hedge maze, and then eventually to the forest and the hideout hidden within it.

He expects it to be empty, as it usually is when there's no meeting going on, but as soon as he enters Castiel hears the sound of a pencil scratching against paper. He moves further into the large room and then catches sight of a familiar head of hair.

"Jo," he greets. They haven't spoken much lately, beyond checking in with each other here and there, but Castiel's relieved they didn't encounter each other last weekend. "Taking inventory?"

[lightgunhustler]

Cas is always so damn quiet when it comes to moving about that Jo usually finds herself startled when he approaches, and now is no exception. His voice comes from somewhere behind her, and she'd been so absorbed in her task that she gives a little bit of a jolt when he says her name, before looking over her shoulder and forcing a tired smile. Her eyes are still red, but aside from that there's little evidence of how difficult her day has been aside from slumped shoulders. She's had time to pull herself together.

Of all the people that could run across her right about now, Cas is one of those she'd most like to see. She's not sure she would call them close, but they've certainly been developing a better understanding of each other as time goes on. They care about the same people and the same causes. More than enough to strengthen a bond that had once been tenuous.

"Hey. Thought it should be done. I know everything got counted back in June, but it's been awhile. Figured it'd be a good idea to take stock." And it was something to do. Something that make her feel useful, productive. She needed that more than anything right now. "What brings you down here?"

[freewill]

Even when Castiel doesn't make use of his wings, he still manages to take people by surprise. It's not something he does purposefully, and in this case he feels some guilt for startling Jo. Especially given that she looks worn down. The event may have taken its own toll on her, or it could be something else entirely. The futile hunt for Dean's killer, perhaps.

He moves closer to her and takes a look at the storage area. This is only one portion of it, with a bunker further down packed with more things. Castiel's not certain how much the stock changes from month to month, but it's a good idea to keep track in the event that people are stealing -- even though there would be no good reason for that. Humans often behave in ways that make no sense, so it's still a consideration.

At the question, Castiel rolls his shoulders. "Patrolling." It's not that he had expected to find anything. He'd been content enough to enjoy his solitude while also keeping on the move, but he doesn't regret that he's run into Jo. He realizes this place has some unpleasant memories associated with it for her, given that she had to kill Tom here. He wouldn't have expected her to come alone.

"How have you been? That last event..." His gaze drops down toward his feet. "Wasn't pleasant."

B

[pottershotter]

James hates the events that change who he is as a person. He woke up this morning tired and a little confused, like he just had a four-day-long dream. He does remember it what happened, but it's all sort of hazy. It feels like it happened to someone else, but that might just be the nature of the event. He'd been a demon, an entirely different creature, and thinking back on it makes him realize he didn't feel like himself at all.

He's fairly certain he didn't actually hurt anyone or cause any damage, but he doesn't feel right assuming so, so he's been making rounds around the mansion in the aftermath. He knows he left a couple of people lost in the hedge maze, so he takes his broom and makes a couple of passes over it, looking down for anyone who might still be stranded there.

By the time he's done with that though, he realizes the bar must be open by now. He banishes his broom back up to the room he shares with Sirius, and heads up not to go drink but to go investigate. During the event he spent some time sneaking into the bar and challenging people to drinking contests they physically couldn't win (which he has to admit is kind of hilarious, even now that his morality's returned to him). He doesn't remember starting any fights or anything like that, but apparently Wonderland thinks he's the sort of person who will start a drunken fight with a good friend's husband in five years, so he figures it's worth at least double-checking to make sure he didn't do anything.

Jo's already there when he gets there, and he offers a smile and a friendly wave. His eyes are entirely back to normal, and he's back to carrying himself the way he usually does.

"Hullo, Jo!" He laughs a little, and jokingly puts his hands up in front of him, as if he has to defend himself. "I'm completely myself again, I promise. How're you?"

[lightgunhustler]

James gets half a smile just for walking through the door, to be honest -- the event is behind them and no real harm had been done, though she couldn't say the same for every other demon in the place. The motion to surrender gets a raised eyebrow in reply, but she shrugs and reaches for a pair of glasses from the back counter.

She knows what he's drinking, and she intends to join him. She never drinks much while behind the counter, but with the way her day is going, a little firewhiskey can only help.

"Thanks for the heads-up, I might've thrown salt at you again if you hadn't said anything. Take a load off for a few minutes?"

She inclines her head towards one of the nearest stools. She could use some conversation with a good friend, even if it's only for a few minutes.

[pottershotter]

James laughs at that, though he winces a bit at the memory. "I don't think it would do much now, but it was completely unpleasant at the time."

All it takes is a quick glance to see that the bar is fine, so he happily takes a seat as directed. It's a bit early in the day for drinking (at least for James) but he never minds keeping her company.

"I suppose I can stay for a drink," he says. "I mostly came by to make sure I hadn't done any sort of, I dunno, demonic damage that needed cleaning up."

He rolls his eyes as he says it, not because he's bothered by going around and checking, but because it's irritating that Wonderland would put them through that at all, and that waking up in the morning with vague memories of a life that isn't quite his has become normal in Wonderland.

b ; i hope this ok!!

[ganking]

Like many others, Dean’s left feeling disorientated and little more than just horrified after the event has blown over. It’s wrong, to be changed from who you are into something so foul, entirely twisted— making a mockery of anything anyone might hold dear. But in the misery of the aftermath — which includes Blake’s blood on his hands — Dean can be grateful he hadn’t run into Jo at all during the weekend.

Small miracles.

It’s why she’s the first person he seeks out after the mess has come to an end, if only to check up on her to make sure no one else managed to sink their demonic claws into her. He knows by now that she should be in the bar, probably working away like she always is… And much like he’d predicted, her long waves of blonde hair are easily spotted the moment he walks in.

Dean pulls up to the bar, sliding into a stool and leaning against the counter, all the while trying to catch her attention. It’s there, for the first time, that he gets the feeling of something being off. She’s busy — too busy — and distracted, running from one table to the next, and off somewhere to the back of the bar and then out again, all work, work, work. Enough apparently that he has to call out to her not once, but a few times, each a soft Jo, hey— Jo?

Whatever’s on her mind is enough to push aside his own troubles — he’s caused more than any single person really should — and moments later he’s reaching over the counter to gently tug on her wrist before she can slip off somewhere else again.

“Hey, anyone in there?”

wah :c

[lightgunhustler]

His first attempt to get her attention blows right past her, as does the second and the third. She's on autopilot, and while there are a few patrons present, it's not nearly enough of a crowd to keep her as busy as she's keeping herself. It's when he grabs her wrist that he finally gets her to look his way, and for a split second, she wishes she hadn't. She wishes she had pulled her wrist away and kept going, even though Dean is one of the people she'd want to see most in any situation.

But for that brief, fleeting moment, he's not Dean. For a second he's Tom and it feels like she's seen a ghost, exactly the way she'd felt when Tom had first approached her after Dean's death a year ago. A whole year. It almost didn't seem possible -- but the moment passes and all of the things that define Dean make themselves more apparent. The faint lines near his mouth and eyes, the stubble, the way he carries himself.

Everyone else in the mansion had always found themselves confused, but she'd never had any trouble telling the two of them apart.

She sighs, turning to face him and lightly resting against her side of the bar, managing to look apologetic amidst everything else. "Sorry. Guess I'm distracted today."

She hadn't seen him at all during their little invasion of Heaven and Hell, something she figured she should probably be thankful for. Angels, demons, and Winchesters were a bad, bad mix.

"It's been a day. You want a drink?" She's almost too together in that moment, overcompensating. Trying too hard. It shows.

buhhh :C

[ganking]

Dean has to raise a brow. From the hectic tic to everything she does, the surprise and shock of seeing him, to the way she's apologizing in a way that just-- doesn't fit, it's all got Dean's attention now. But she could just be tired, busy-- anything. They all have problems, things on their mind, so maybe today is just off for her.

And yet...

"A drink sounds good right now." Really good. But Dean's not here to vent out issues to her, not today, so instead he clings to that feeling of something being off. They're both bad at sharing, he knows, but after his death, the words they'd traded... Trying at communication is the only way to go.

"So, what's got your mind all over the place? Doesn't look too busy in here..." So it can't be like she's just in a hurry because of customers. It has to be something else, and soon enough Dean's blinking a little, leaning closer some at the counter.

"Nothing bad happened, right-- with the event, and people going nuts?" She hadn't gotten hurt, right, no one had tried to-- kill her, or anything. Right?

C

[voiceinthedark]

Old habits die hard, even if those habits aren't really all that old. They're what's keeping him alive these days after all. Once it seems safe enough to leave his room, he heads out to the bunker, taking some time to catalogue and replenish various supplies. Just in case.

It's sort of soothing work. He won't be caught out again. Sure, it's paranoid, but it's like Janine is paranoid and she's one of the most stable people he knows.

He just hadn't been expecting anyone else to come down there.

"Oh, uh... hi?"

[lightgunhustler]

At first, she mistakes him for someone else -- though Jo likes to consider herself especially good at telling lookalikes apart by picking out their differences and committing them to memory, there always has to be a somewhat awkward first meeting before that can be done. As it stands, she gives him a tired but genuine smile, clipboard in hand.

"Hey, Kevin. Looks like I'm not the only one interested in taking inventory."

He's right, it is soothing work, relaxing and productive and a welcome distraction from all the other crap going on.

"Need a hand?"

[voiceinthedark]

Kevin.

Sam's shoulders slump a little at that, and there's a sort of bitterness that he can't quite stop himself feeling. He'd always been the second best at home, with his sister doing so well at school and university, while he struggled to do much of anything. Abel had been the first time he'd been valued for himself, but now here he was, playing shadow to someone he barely knew.

It was weird.

"I'm not Kevin," he says, because well, she's gonna realise that as soon as he opens his mouth anyway. "Sorry."

B- Bar

[sheriffwolf]

Another event over, another few days of being someone else.

Bigby sat at the bar and tried to make sense of everything, re-evaluating every word, every encounter, in the hopes that he didn't do something incredibly stupid. This one was particularly the worse as it woke a side of him that had been asleep for centuries. He wasn't the monster any longer. Or was he? Truth be told he didn't know anymore. The last thing he did before showing up in Wonderland was rip Dee's throat out. Bloody Mary had called him a monster and Snow...

Snow. Damn, he really couldn't go five minutes without thinking of her, could he? No matter what world he was in she stayed on his mind and he couldn't help but think that he just didn't measure up, would never measure up. Deep down inside he was still the same Bigby Wolf. How did that old saying go?

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks," he murmured to himself with a snort. Yeah, that about summed it up.

[lightgunhustler]

Jo had been wiping down the other end of the counter when she overheard him, sending him a wry smile from across the bar to show her sympathy. Even now, at one of her lowest points, she wasn't sure she subscribed to that school of thought. Setting her towel down, she makes her way towards where Bigby is seated, hand propped against her hip.

"I don't know. Sometimes old dogs can surprise you." She sounds tired, like another person with way too much on their minds, but she manages to force a little bit of cheer, just for a moment. "What can I get you?"

[sheriffwolf]

Bigby glanced up and smiled. "Whiskey, don't care what brand. I'll take the cheapest you have. I have this strange taste for the cheap stuff, I'm told."

Speaking of which, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Huff and Puff brand cigarettes, shaking one out into his hand. "I don't know when I'll get used to these weekends when this place fucks with our heads," he said, lighting the end of his cigarette. "I'm getting really tired of handing out apologies."

[B - Bar]

[luckynumberthree]

When Simon wanders in to the bar late in the afternoon, the place is fairly crowded. More than he's seen it recently and he's guessing most of the people are here nursing away problems from the most recent event. Which he'd been spared, luckily, but it had certainly been a strange one.

He spots Jo, but she's taking orders at one of the tables so he heads to one of the few empty stools at the bar. A couple of people are waiting for refills there and no one else is around at the moment, so he hesitates a moment, because he doesn't want to step on any toes here, but it looks like she might have her hands full.

Which is why after a moment he slips around behind the counter instead and goes down the bar, refilling drinks as he goes. Whenever she gets back, she'll find him having filled just about all of them and currently pouring a whiskey on the rocks. He glances up when she comes back and shoots her a sheepish smile in apology.

"I'll be out of your way in a minute. You just looked like you could use a hand for a minute."

[lightgunhustler]

She doesn't notice him until she's behind the bar again, proof positive of how work is succeeding at keeping her distracted. She's almost manic in her eagerness to wait on people, her cheer forced, but she shakes it when she lays eyes on him tending to a customer as she returns with a tray of glasses she'd cleared off one of the far tables. She recognizes him -- they hadn't spoken before or since, but there was an event not long ago where they'd met. From what she could remember, he was friendly -- it stood out, and at the moment, that was enough.

"You're not in my-- I mean, you're fine. You didn't have to do this." She frowns a little, out of concern rather than disapproval. She shouldn't be so distracted that she can't do the job herself. She's always managed just fine, or so she likes to tell herself, but the truth is that she'd often had help in the form of Dean or Xander or other friends just stopping by.

She sighs, and that frown becomes a tight, wry smile.

"Guess I could use a little help."

[luckynumberthree]

"Looks like you could also do with a drink from your own bar. Or is that against the rules?" he shoots back, giving her a crooked grin as he eyes her intently a moment before sliding the whiskey down to the last seat at the bar. That done, he turns to lean one hip against the counter as he holds his hand out to her, giving her his full attention.

"It's not a problem. You're a popular person today, looks like. Think everyone's trying to forget the last event, honestly. Can't really blame 'em either. I'm Simon, by the way. Since the last time we met we were teenagers and I'm not sure that counts as actually meeting."

[A - Sparring]

[widows_kiss]

It's the familiar rhythmic sound of fists against a punching bag that catch her attention, because she's heard - and caused - that sound enough times herself to recognize it immediately.

Wondering who she's stumbled across, Natasha pauses, then goes looking for the source of the sounding, finding the young woman a few moments later. She pauses in the doorway to watch her for several long minutes, not drawing attention to herself as she observes instead. It's easy for her to see that something's upset Jo seriously, enough that she's taking it out on the bag instead of the source. Which Natasha can both understand and sympathize with.

After a bit, she pushes away from the doorway, letting herself make a soft noise of movement as she rounds the room on the outside of Jo's peripheral vision before coming in to hold the other side of the bag, keeping it still for her to continue.

[lightgunhustler]

Jo hadn't realized she was being watched, absorbed as she was in her catharsis, but she comes to an abrupt halt when Natasha enters the room, pulling back and letting her weight come to rest on her heels rather than keeping it on the balls of her feet as though prepared to strike. They haven't talked since the resistance meeting, but Jo had liked her well enough. They didn't know each other so well that Jo was thrilled with being seen so out of sorts, but there wasn't much that could be done about that now.

Any other day, she would have berated herself for not noticing that she wasn't alone; hunters were supposed to have keen senses and be on the alert, and even if she hadn't been at the job as long as some people, she liked to think she was above average when it came to certain parts of the game. For now, she forces herself to relax. Even with Natasha holding the bag, she doesn't move to strike, instead letting her shoulders drop.

"I can finish up here, if you want to use the room. Nothing fancy, I just use the place when I teach. Happy to lend it out."

She'll just gloss over that silent offer of solidarity for now.

[vates]

Kevin shows up at the training room door when it's time for his session with Jo. He's usually on time, and he usually comes these days with Paarthurnax at his heels. It's the same today; she comes trotting in after him, sniffing at the ground, though her eyes are on the animals on the other side of the room.

Kevin is distracted by Jo, though, leaning against the wall and crying.

"Jo?" He hasn't seen her this upset, and he isn't quite sure what to do. Should he go over and comfort her? Would she rather be left alone? But the door was open, so probably she wasn't looking for that much privacy. He approaches her slowly, in case she does want him to leave.

"Jo, what happened?"

[lightgunhustler]

Paarthurnax is greeted by Jormy, who hops down from his perch to trot across the room and get to sniffing, while Jellybean stays behind, still wary of most dogs as her kind are prone to be. Jo, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice the exchange, but Kevin's voice forces her to broaden her focus, and she stops mid-swing to look towards him, momentarily surprised before offering him a look of apology.

"Hey. Sorry, I-- lost track of the time." She hadn't forgotten that this was their usual morning to meet, but somehow time had lost all meaning once she started swinging. She folds her arms, closing herself off without quite meaning to, but it somehow makes it easier for her to continue.

"It's complicated. Long story?" It's not a brush-off, but she's not sure she wants to bore him with the whole sordid history. She's not even sure she can tell any of it without breaking down, to be honest. "Just found out someone important to me's gone missing-- home, I mean."

Not that home was a good thing. Not for everyone.