intheblanks | ➹BEEPER

[She stops at the end of the wooden plank, blocking it off as she turns to face him.]

I'm flexible. What do you think you can contribute besides making it difficult for me to sleep.

[Another pause as he tries to make sense of her.]

Just donate what you're able? I didn't realise the City had a floating branch of the Salvation Army.

[He takes a step toward her barrier.]

Give me your hand.

[She's already pulled away from him once. Already left the home they share. Already cringed from him in the windows. She had meant to leave him on the steps. Her hand goes out, palm up, and she's watching him distrustfully.]

[She's pulled away from him more than once, and he's told her he's a patient man. He guides her fingertips, letting the palm follow and press down after them, against his chest settling over the place just below his clavicle where his pulse is most easily felt. He's not blind to how it's lulled her before.]

I'm not planning to keep you awake.

[Her hand flexes, although she doesn't push, her fingertips lifted away from him.]

Go home.

Don't have one. [It's a quick retort but a quiet one. While he hasn't moved back, he doesn't chase her retreating hand.] What were you hoping to get from me?

[What does she hope to get from him. That's a question she doesn't want to think about.]

Nothing. I was only curious what you'd try.

[He laughs, something oddly wounded.]

Right, god forbid you play a game anyone can win. Someone might actually wind up happy, that way. Less lonely, at least. And then you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

Robert.

[She can still count on one hand the number of times she's called for him by name. It's not quite an apology.]

You're a problem, completely separate.

[In and of himself.]

[What does she think he's afraid enough of to keep making these attempts? Of course he's a problem.]

Separate from what? What keeps you awake at night? What makes you want to burn holes in yourself from the inside out? How separate?

[And if she didn't know before.]

[Her eyes widen, just slightly. She's confused by the way he's answered, that he would really react that much at all. And it's always more and more difficult to answer when he presses. He's a problem because she's fixated, because she cares for him. He's a problem because she's tired of being his disappointment. He's a problem because she's not going to let herself love someone who's already devoted elsewhere again; but she does.]

If I resolved everything, about him and about me. You would still be a problem.

[That's not the answer he needed, just a rephrasing. And since he's said too much by now - as if he'd barely met her, hadn't learned that her preferred method of communication involves as much self-concealment as possible - he may as well clarify.]

Your problems just put you in hospital. How separate am I from that?

[He's making a point that she wishes he wouldn't, frustration crossing her features unchecked. Her mouth opens to say something, but she shuts it with a grimace. She'd leave him as just a doctor, if she could, and everyone knows that she's tried. Good morning, doctor.]

You know I wouldn't have gone there if I hadn't been carried.

[Which is not an answer.]

[God, all he'd wanted was to hold her until she slept. How the hell it's turned into him standing on the edge of a plank, choking out frustration is beyond him.]

Yeah, dying makes walking difficult. How much did I have to do with that, Carla? Because if that's what knowing me does to you, then fine. I'll do whatever you want. I'll walk away. Right now.

Don't flatter yourself.

[She wouldn't kill herself over him. She would just torment and denigrate herself. It's an entirely different scale.]

I'm not, I'm trying to figure out how much of an idiot you are. You just keep coming up with surprises.

[He shakes his head and looks down, a hand sliding over his face.]

I'm a problem. Because you like me?

You're a problem because I like you.

[And she's an idiot. Terrified of him and inexperienced in what it is to like or care for anyone for any reason other than they don't bore her.]

Thank you for finally saying it.

[He's still staring at the ground - at his feet, as he steps forward enough to edge her back along the gangplank.]

I've said it before, you just weren't listening.

[That was why she had punched him on her wedding day. She moves back uncertainly, doesn't like giving up the ground to him and frowns, hand curling around her forearm in an uncomfortable gesture..]

You also wanted to braid my hair.

[It's a different curse he's thinking of, but he glances up at her anyway. Another step.]

It was my hair that mattered.

[She'd said it. She'd meant it. You only asked me because you were cursed. But you weren't cursed to want to know. Now she's staring back at him with a furrow.]

It was quieter before you showed up.

[Before he put her on edge and asked her questions she didn't want to answer.]

It's quiet out here. [And it is, around them. Even the waves are quiet against the boat.] If it's noisy in there, try getting some of it out.

[Still encroaching.]

Got questions? Ask me.

[Well. If he really wants to know,]

Why won't you leave?

You had a chance to make me, you didn't. And I've left before, because you've told me to. I've yet to see how letting you avoiding your problems has been helpful.

[Although that's not all of it, the rest is far simpler.]

I wanted to see you.

You want to see me when you want to avoid your problems.

[How about that, Chase? And even when she says it, she sounds a little conflicted as to whether or not that bothers her.]

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