Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-22 11:16 pm
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-22 11:16 pm
Can I pay you tomorrow for recovery today? (Dated Monday, 9:45AM) TW: Mentions of Violence/Torture
Trigger Warning: This thread contains mentions and descriptions of violence and torture. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to tweet @thestarsplay for clarification. Thanks!
--
In the end, she'd handled it herself.
Raleigh didn't have family, didn't have an emergency contact. She'd watched Levi be loaded onto the gurney, and she limped to follow him - but one of the EMTs sat her down and took one look at her, and she was on one as well. She's got no phone - and she doesn't know anyone's phone numbers off the back of her hand, so she goes alone.
Concussion, hairline fractures in her left wrist (her fault) and right cheekbone (not her fault), bruised ribs - bruises all over really, and the 7 inch long cut along the bottom of her foot, from her heel to her toes -- had stitches.
Which meant she had crutches.
She knew she had to be at the hospital to get the stitches, but what she didn't know - or didn't expect, really, was that they were expecting to keep her. They were expecting to keep her, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't, not and keep thinking of Les' words. Of Joseph's, of her own. She'd been through it, after she'd fallen into the basement of that rotted old house. Two days, she'd been down there, and half the people who visited her informed her that They didn't even know she was gone.
Raleigh can't live through that again.
That's why she checks herself out once it's all done, the stitches and the lectures and the questions. That's why she heads back into town - the clicking of the crutches something that's entirely old hat to her, given her leg - and she's thinking about tomorrow. About working, and she draws herself up short before she sits heavily on one of the little tables outside the coffeeshop, nevermind that she hasn't bought anything, that she looks like a wreck and that she's wearing scrubs for pants and a cheap flipflop on her good foot because the exceedingly nice nurse realised that they had to cut her jeans off of her, and she had no shoes - her hoodie had blood on the sleeve and the hem, oddly brown now, but she hasn't realised it.
She sits, and she can't help it as she starts to cry, her free hand still holding the crutches so they don't clatter onto the ground.
--
In the end, she'd handled it herself.
Raleigh didn't have family, didn't have an emergency contact. She'd watched Levi be loaded onto the gurney, and she limped to follow him - but one of the EMTs sat her down and took one look at her, and she was on one as well. She's got no phone - and she doesn't know anyone's phone numbers off the back of her hand, so she goes alone.
Concussion, hairline fractures in her left wrist (her fault) and right cheekbone (not her fault), bruised ribs - bruises all over really, and the 7 inch long cut along the bottom of her foot, from her heel to her toes -- had stitches.
Which meant she had crutches.
She knew she had to be at the hospital to get the stitches, but what she didn't know - or didn't expect, really, was that they were expecting to keep her. They were expecting to keep her, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't, not and keep thinking of Les' words. Of Joseph's, of her own. She'd been through it, after she'd fallen into the basement of that rotted old house. Two days, she'd been down there, and half the people who visited her informed her that They didn't even know she was gone.
Raleigh can't live through that again.
That's why she checks herself out once it's all done, the stitches and the lectures and the questions. That's why she heads back into town - the clicking of the crutches something that's entirely old hat to her, given her leg - and she's thinking about tomorrow. About working, and she draws herself up short before she sits heavily on one of the little tables outside the coffeeshop, nevermind that she hasn't bought anything, that she looks like a wreck and that she's wearing scrubs for pants and a cheap flipflop on her good foot because the exceedingly nice nurse realised that they had to cut her jeans off of her, and she had no shoes - her hoodie had blood on the sleeve and the hem, oddly brown now, but she hasn't realised it.
She sits, and she can't help it as she starts to cry, her free hand still holding the crutches so they don't clatter onto the ground.
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She stares at him as he looks at her, and he rubs his temple and all she can suddenly think is that she never should have said anything, that she never should been outside. "It's- It's not important," she says faintly, and she tries to scrub at her cheeks, hissing back a breath when she skims her cheek too hard. "I should have just gone home." She says it aloud, and her eyes flick to Spencer's again, but then away.
It's always been hard for her. It's always been hard for her to not be the helper, the one who's making things better for other people. She's been doing it since she was five, since her mother had her brother and her dad split to greener pastures. And now - now, when she tries to access the part of her that's got what to do when everything in the the world's wrong...
Explaining who she is, why she lied, why she's sorry she lied--
She can't do it. The words had just come from nowhere, they'd just rolled over her like a wave and now she can't unsay them. She can't unsay them, and instead she says quietly, "I'll be alright, Spencer. I just- I needed a cup of coffee."
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He'd told Emily about what had happened that morning in his backyard not because she's just happened to be there but because she's been kind to him from her arrival in town. She's brought him soup after what had happened with Mark, she's had more of an affect on Spencer than she probably realizes because it's not the words he has trouble gathering, it's the part where he actually has to express them that's the problem.
So he understands if he can't be that kind of person for her. He'd had a part in letting this happen, whether she'd agree or not, and he wouldn't feel deserving of that trust anyway. He still had a duty to her a friend, though, and it's not just obligation that he feels, it's genuine affection. He pushes himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath as he tries to work through everything that's fighting for his attention in his mind.
"I'll get you that coffee."
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She starts crying - not silently, but it's quiet, her shoulders hunched as she pulls into herself. "Raleigh. My name's Raleigh." The words are only half intelligible, and she just can't manage it anymore. She can't explain, she doesn't know that her explanation makes very little sense - but that's the explanation she's got.
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"Okay," he says, trying his best to sound more soothing than anything because regardless of what Emily's name is, she's still his friend. He still wants to make sure she's taken care of, make sure she's not alone. "Okay, Raleigh. Why don't you-- Do you want to come to my place? I have coffee there, a couple open rooms if you want to rest." He sighs, shifting on his feet. "Sometimes it's just better not to be alone."
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Besides, she doesn't even know how well it would work. If she needed help - she knows already from before, everything's going to hurt more as time goes on. "If you're sure it's okay," she says with a nod. "Then... please. Yes, please." She nods once, and she hesitates. "Can... I tell you about what happened later? Why- Why I lied, I just- I can't... I can't right now, I'm sorry."
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"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'm going to call us a cab and then I'll... I don't know. I'll make you some soup. Bake you a cake. Whatever you want, whatever you need."
He fumbles to grab his phone with his casted hand and rattles off their location to the taxi company before turning his focus back on her. "You're welcome to stay in my place for as long as you'd like." The house has been empty aside from him for so long and the only people who have even been in there lately have been Joel and Raleigh. Well, no, that's a lie. Mark has been in his house, has violated his space and made the safest room he's ever been in a place where ghosts of bad memories wait; but it's getting better. It's only been a little over a week but things are getting better.
He hesitates before brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear and offering a crooked smile. "A wise person I know told me recently that people deserve good things. That it's worth the effort. I'm going to make that effort for you now, like you did for me. Okay?"
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She's thankful when he calls the cab and for the hand up - it takes her a minute, to get herself up and on the crutches and that's when he can actually see how bad her foot is; the man who did this to her was a monster, there's no getting around it.
He offers her a place to stay, and she hesitates because she's so moved by it. By him. She doesn't realise now that he means longer than today - but she's grateful that she'll have a place to be, that she won't be alone. She's terrified of going to the boarding house tonight, because she still thinks she'll have to do it. She's terrified because she'll be alone in the dark, because something could happen, and she knows how bad she was after the basement.
She looks up at him when he brushes back her hair, and she shift-hobbles closer to him, half-hugging him even with the crutches. "You're a good person," she says softly, before she scoots herself back a little. "I appreciate this." All of it - that she's got a friend like him.
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He tries not to let his gaze linger on her foot, though he still isn't sure whether it's worse to see people struggle to avoid asking him about his bruises and injured hand altogether or to be direct about it. Curiosity is inevitable and both of them are well aware of that for more reasons than just their most recent traumas.
"I try to be," he answers, letting her get closer even though he stiffens just a bit. "Besides, it's truly the least I can do after you let me unload so much on you last week. Not that I'm keeping score, I--" He shakes his head, frustrated that he can't seem to find the right words to explain himself. He knows she would never say he owes her anything, and he doesn't feel like he does because as far as he's been learning, a true friendship doesn't work that way; but he wants to do right by her because she's done the same for him and perhaps that's not it's supposed to work either but it's where he's at right now.
"I've got fresh bedding," he says, signaling the cab he sees nearing them. "Do you like ice cream? I don't have any right now but Joel, he bought me my favorite, it's coffee-flavored. If you don't like coffee-flavored, that's all right, I can get you whatever flavor you like. Oh, there's a TV that I'm pretty sure still works in one of the empty rooms, if you want to use that one. When J-- When I'm alone in the house, it's easier to fall asleep with the background noise."
He's rambling but he's afraid that if he stops, he'll have to acknowledge the fact that the second reason he wants to go so out of his way for Raleigh is because he couldn't be there to stop whatever had happened to her in the first place. If he can make it up to her now, even if she doesn't realize that's what he's doing, maybe he'll be able to rest a bit easier tonight.
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She can't think about it, though. Not right now. "It's okay," she says after he just sort of goes forward and backtracks, and she looks so tired when he says not that I'm keeping score and of course what she thinks is that he is, somehow. He's keeping track of the things she did, and trying to make it even or something, when she just did what she thought was right.
... Then again, she thought she was doing what was right when she went into that alley. Her brows furrow when he talks about bedding, when he just sort of babbles about his house and she doesn't quite get if he's inviting her over for the afternoon or asking her to actually stay. "Spencer." She waits until they're in the cab because she needs the time to figure out what, exactly, she wants to say to hopefully get him to calm down a little bit. "Seriously, it's okay. I appreciate you making space for me, and you don't... have to do anything, okay? It'll be good just to sit somewhere and not have to worry about people staring, and- and I can just... I'll figure out tonight." She looks so damned tired, and she looks down - and realises there's blood on her hoodie, and she just makes this miserable sound, before she just closes her hand around the spot, making it so she can't see it as she looks at her hands in her lap.
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He doesn't speak again until they reach the house and he thanks the driver when he pays the fare and offers a generous tip. He leaves the cab in a hurry, rushing around the vehicle so he can open the door for Raleigh and helping her out the best he can. He hesitates before settling his good hand on the small of her back as he guides her to the front door.
He fishes his keys out of his pocket, fumbling a bit because of the cast on his other hand, but manages to get it into the lock and lets Raleigh cross the threshold first. Now that they're here, he isn't even sure what he should do. Whatever Raleigh wants, of course, but he stands dumbly in the hallway after shutting the door behind him and shoving his hand in his pocket as he rocks on his heels.
"You're welcome to anything here, of course," he says. He nods toward a closed door a few feet away and gives her a crooked smile that's a little sad, a little bitter. "That's my library, I haven't-- There's all sorts of books in there, if you want to pick any out. I meant what I said, by the way, you can stay as long as you'd like. If you need something from your place, I'd be happy to get it for you."
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People doing things out of sheer obligation, that's definitely up there on the list, though. Kind people who know your family, classmates, the people who looked for you when you fell into that basement-- that's what she's seen and lived with, and it's disheartening. If they'd been walking, Raleigh would have decided to go back to the boarding house after all - say that she's tired, thank him, make her excuses - but they're in a car and there's nowhere she can go and so both of them sit in silence.
The walk - not far, but far enough - is too much right now for her to leave from his house. She knows it; if there's one thing she's experienced with, it's her limits when she's injured, and while she breaks those limits regularly she's still aware of them.
"Thank you," is the first thing she says when he says she's welcome to anything. "I appreciate it, seriously." She needs to not be alone, she needs to sit down, and she's trying to just seem like the last two days haven't been a horrible nightmare. She draws up short, though, when he says that she can just... stay. It doesn't sit the same with obligation, unless he doesn't mean stay, stay, but he's offering things from her room, and it doesn't make sense.
"I... sorry, you just mean the afternoon, right?" She has to ask, because- because. They can pass it off as her being a little out of it since she's got pain medication in her hoodie, since she's taken it even though it's not doing a lot. She's still on her crutches, looking up at him like she's not even quite sure what to do with herself, but she's just... confused. Completely confused about this whole thing.
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"I mean the afternoon if that's as long as you want to say," he says, his tone gentle. He lowers his eyes then makes his way to the dining room because that's where he keeps his pain medication and he'd skipped out on it over the weekend in favor of being able to actually drink some of the wine offered at the wine festival; but he's feeling it now, in his hand and in his head, and he's become much better at popping off the cap of the pill bottle with just one hand. He doesn't look at her as he swallows a tablet dry, letting out a deep exhale as he grips the edge of the table so his knuckles go white.
"If you want to stay until tomorrow, the end of the week, the end of the year, you can." He glances up at her then. "I'm sorry I'm not better at this. I'm not--"
He shakes his head, realizing that she really shouldn't be on her feet so he guides her to the living room instead, extends his hand to help lower her onto the couch. He sits on the wooden coffee table in front of her, too tall for it to be comfortable and his knees come up to his chest but he just wraps his arms around himself and offers her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He wants to make her understand, wants her to feel like none of this is just courtesy. He wants her to be her if she wants to be, wants her to feel like this could be a safe place.
"You know I didn't really leave the house after what happened last week," he says. "I've never really relied on anybody before, it's hard for me to let myself trust people. To let anyone in, really let them in, but then I met Joel and now... Now things feel different. And you, you didn't blink after I told you about my family. Some of the things people have done and said and-- That doesn't matter anymore but the thing is, it's taken me this long to realize that sometimes, it's better not to be alone."
He reaches out to grip her hand lightly, and it's not like him and he still feels odd doing this to someone who isn't Joel, but he does it because he thinks maybe they both need it. The contact, the reassurance that somebody is there, he'd craved it when he'd locked himself away. "You're my friend," he tells her, making sure their eyes meet and nodding firmly, squeezing her hand. "You're my friend, and I'd like to help you if I can."
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He invites her to stay the afternoon, but then- but then to stay here, and she didn't know why, couldn't figure out why, but- Oh, god. She's both terrified and relieved, that somehow she misunderstood, but she's so relieved, deep in her gut. He sits her down in the living room, and Raleigh stares at him, listening to every word and trying so hard not to hope that he means it but she's not going to have to be alone, she's not going to have to be afraid that she'd dreamt all of it, getting out, and Levi coming.
That she's not dead, and she just blocked it out. She knows the nightmares, knows how they work for her. And now she's got a possible- there's a possible solution, if... he really means it. She's not really said anything yet, until she pauses and bites her lip and he's holding her hand. "I know you've been here. That's... why I bought you soup. Because... you can't be eating well." She paused, and then exhaled slowly. "I need to not be alone. I... was afraid, before. I was afraid that I'd be in the boarding house alone, and I have... I have these nightmares," she said quietly. "I don't even know yet how bad it'll be, but- uh. He... the guy who was going to- uhm." She was trying to find the words, without launching into the whole thing. "The guy who was going to sacrifice- He chained me in a bathroom, alone, and then turned the light off and left, and it was- It was a lot like it was before, you know?" Her eyes finally flick to from their hands to his eyes. "I think it was for a day? So- So I don't think I should be alone?"
It's phrased like a question, and her chin wobbles, and she looks away from him, to anywhere but him. "I guess you could say I've done this before."
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He doesn't acknowledge the part about not eating well. He's not necessarily eating poorly, not with Joel around to make sure of it, but nothing seems to sit well and when he can't block out the thoughts and images of what had happened long enough, the nausea hits and he has to fight hard to keep from being sick. "I have nightmares, too," he says softly and though he holds onto her hand, he lets his eyes drop down to the floor. He doesn't like to talk about them, though he can't imagine anyone likes to talk about nightmares; but even jolting awake from then while in Joel's arms, he's more likely to insist he's fine, that Joel should go back to sleep, than dwell out it any further--at loud, at least.
"I let him in. I thought it was Joel at the door so I called for him to come in, and he found me in the library. I didn't even-- I turned around and there he was. I had two drinks in my hand, he grabbed one of the glasses and hit me..." He cringes at the memory, at the sound of the shattering glass that he still thinks he hears even when he's doing the most mundane of things like brushing his teeth. "When I woke up, I was in the lighthouse. He'd tied my hands and feet together with zipties, and I'd never felt so helpless before that. He kept asking me all these questions, I wouldn't answer him because-- because I didn't want him to give the satisfaction, and I think a part of me wanted to feel like I at least fought back in my way. He asked me how long I thought it would take for anyone to notice I was gone and the thing is, I knew Joel would know. We had a date, he-- of course he'd know. But anyone else, to be completely honest, I wasn't so sure."
He hadn't had too much time to dwell on that before Mark had broken another finger, and Spencer shakes his head to bring himself out of the memory before he can get too far into it. "Anyway. The point is, it's not that you just shouldn't be alone, it's that you don't have to be. You have friends who care about you. I care about you so if you're going to have nightmares in my house, I'm going to make sure I'm there when you wake up as much as I can." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "If that's okay, I mean. Whatever you want to do is okay by me."
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Raleigh's acutely aware of how it all works. She's been through it, and she slowly rubs the side of his fingers with her thumb without even thinking as he's so obviously in the memory, because she doesn't want to interrupt that sort of pressure release but she wants to give him an anchor in reality if he needs it.
He offers to be there when she wakes up, and she smiles - it's small, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, but she nods. "I... I'd be grateful?" Shrugging her shoulders up, she bites her lip hard before she exhales in a rush. "There's this part- there's this part," she starts again, once she takes a deep breath. "Where you just sort of... let it happen, because you just... you know you're... done. You know that it's done. That you're just... you're not-" She has to catch a tear with her thumb, and she sees the blood on her sleeve and closes her eyes and shakes her head. "You're not going to make it out alive, and you just sort of... give up, and... there's no fighting anymore. That's when Levi walked in, and.... I mean, I don't think I'll be okay for a while, you know? Because that does something to you, I think." It was like that, before. When they got her out of that basement, she'd just sort of... decided she was done fighting, and then a few hours later there'd been men with flashlights, who'd found her.
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"I--" It's not a smooth movement, but he brings his injured hand to his throat where the bruises that Mark had left are no longer visible but Spencer can feel them all the same. "He had his hands around my throat and he wouldn't stop squeezing. Joel was there but I couldn't see him, and I thought, I really thought, the last thing I was going to see was that face. He was so happy, he wanted me dead, he wanted to make Joel suffer." He looks up at Raleigh and there's pain in his eyes, pain and confusion that he can't hide. "I've tried to make sense of it but I can't. I guess that's probably for the best."
He's getting better, though. He's gotten better, thanks to Joel and friends who haven't left him to suffer alone, and that's what he wants to help Raleigh do. She's a strong woman, one of the strongest he's met which he thinks is really saying something in a town like this, and he hopes he can succeed where he's failed so many time--in being there for someone, the way he hadn't had the chance to be there for his mom or his brother.
"Yeah. Yeah, it might take awhile. Good days and bad days, right? But you take those bad days and turn them on their heads, you call me or Joel or whoever you want to call and make the rest of it good because the man who took you can't take that away from you. He can't take your friends away because we're all still here, and we're here for you. Try not to lose sight of that, even if it's easier said than done."
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She just stops then. He knows. She knows that he knows and understands, and somehow, she maybe thinks this will be good for both of them, and there's- there's something she'll never say out loud, but there is something with what happened to Spencer and happened to her, that Joel won't ever get, and she thinks maybe.... maybe it's good, that Spencer will have someone who understands.
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He untangles his hand from hers and rubs at his forehead before standing up from his spot on the table and nodding absently. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm so-- Yes, stay right here, okay, I'll be back in a minute."
He takes the stairs to his room twice at a time so he can rifle through his pajama drawer until he finds the sweater his mother had bought for him a couple years before her death. He remembers thanking her profusely before it and wearing it on a family outing then burying it in his closet soon after because he'd known the next one was coming soon anyway--this is how he'd ended up with such a large collection that his brother would constantly mock, but Spencer wishes now that he'd worn them all a hundred times over for his mother to see and he uses most of the remaining supply for when he goes to visit their graves.
It's small enough that Raleigh won't be swimming in it, though, so he takes it back downstairs and holds it out for her. "I'll trade you," he says, gesturing at her hoodie. "I can wash it for you. Or burn it. Whichever you prefer."
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"If you're not a Sagittarius, I've got to ask if you're an archery fan," she said with a half smile, and that's when she finally exhales slowly. "Did you guys have a good weekend at the wine thing? It seems sort of a stupid question, but... it'd be nice to hear?"
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He tries not to cringe at the reminder of the fact that he and Joel had been having their good time while Raleigh had been suffering; but she's making an effort to smile and if that's what she wants to hear from him right now, he'll give it to her. So he nods and closes his eyes for a moment as the images spill into his mind, the ones of them in bed together and Raleigh doesn't need to know how far they'd gone or hadn't gone, but a smile plays at the corners of his lips as he answers.
"Yes, we had a good weekend. You know, it was technically our first official date? Joel was-- He's amazing."
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You could forget her, but you couldn't forget the sweater. That's her logic, and she knows it's messed up and not sound but it does make her feel better. That and him smiling, him talking about the weekend, and she tries not to think about the fact that she'd considered going. She'd considered, but she had to work and what does she know about wine, and now her life would have changed if she'd have just gone.
But then again, someone else might have been dead.
"I didn't know that, that's great." She's sincere when she says it, and she wants to curl up into a tiny ball on his sofa, but she can't get herself small so she just sits, curled in on herself a little. "Joel.... is one of my favourite people," she admits with a small shrug. It's likely no surprise to Joel, should it get back to him - and she felt a similar way about Spencer, really.
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The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at what she says about Joel. "Mine, too," he tell her, and he suspects he doesn't have to say it out loud for Raleigh to understand that he means Joel is his favorite person. Joel has opened his eyes in so many ways and given him more than Spencer would have even thought to ask for in the past month and a half that they've been spending time together. Joel is, Spencer knows, a big part of the reason why he'd felt comfortable enough to invite Raleigh back here in the first place, and it's not that he doesn't consider her a friend or doesn't trust her. It's just that he's more willing than he's ever been to let people in, to let them get closer, because now it's not just the potential for loss that he sees; it's the potential for a happier future and he doesn't even know how where to begin in thanking Joel for that.
He shakes out of the thoughts, focusing his attention back on Raleigh, and he thinks he can see the discomfort in her face and the way she's sitting on the couch--well, of course she's uncomfortable, she's in more pain than anyone like her deserves to be. He grimaces, twisting the hem of his shirt in the fingers of his good hand before nodding toward the staircase. "I can help you to one of the empty bedrooms," he tells her and his tone is apologetic, as if he's personally affronted on her behalf that she has to get to the second story of his own house just to lie in a bed. "If you're not up for it, I can bring bring some blankets down here and you can rest on the couch for as long as you'd like."
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She smiles when he does, and she nods to herself - she knows that Joel is his favorite person, and with good reason - and once he offers help to go upstairs, she pauses. "If... if you're serious, like... serious, serious-" About staying, that is. "I can get up there myself. Believe me, I've done a lot of stairs with crutches."
He reassures her that he meant it, and that's that - she can't thank him enough, she can't- it's gratitude, but it's more than that. It's so much more than that, and he's opened his home to her, and she knows she'll never be able to repay it - but she's thankful.