—chapter thirteen.

  ❛ I wish I could do more. ❜  

ELODIE HADN'T EXPECTED TO WAKE UP IN HER BED. The last thing she could recall was the wind swirling around her with only the city as her light source, but there she was, warm and inside.

For a moment, it made no sense. She could not remember leaving the balcony, she had made a point to -- hadn't she?

But then her fingers curled around her sheets, and she remembered what they had held last. Or rather, who. It was then that the memories surged forward. Stubble against her skin, soft lips kissing her chin before falling down to her shoulder --

-- he had carried her, she knew that then, if only vague reminders of it. Her eyes had stayed shut and she sat limp in his arms as he lifted her back to her bedroom. She remembered his soft curse when they hit a wall, though, and how he had tucked her in like a baby -- how she hadn't smiled, she didn't know.

Her fingers tentatively met her forehead, feeling the skin for a mark she knew wouldn't be there. Maybe her delirious mind had made it all up, but Elodie thought he had seriously kissed her goodnight...

She tried to let it go, but the thought still lingered.

Her morning was a little bit easier, for some reason. She normally woke up upset, grumpy and annoyed with anything in her way, snapping at invisible beings and spilling just about everything possible. But that day her heart felt a little lighter and her thoughts rang a little cleaner, too.

Elodie found herself singing along to the song in her head as she made her morning tea, something she hadn't done in aeons. She had the time to press the wrinkles out of her shirt and brush out her hair, taking special pride in taking care of herself. Her smile at the reflection in the mirror tasted genuine on her tongue and maybe, she could say it really was.

The young woman left her apartment happier than she had in a very long time. And to her credit, that mood hung around for most of her day. Sure, her shift rang long and she still walked into the bar grumpy, but that was just reality - no one would ever be thrilled to rush from one job to the next headache-inducing one, ready to wait on piss-pot costumers and swim in the stench of alcohol for the night. But she clutched tight to the positivity, and managed to hold it all the way through to the night's end.

But things immediately shifted when she saw his face.

Diego Hargreeves was not a naturally smiling being - she knew this, the world knew this, everyone and their mothers' were aware of this. But that night was worlds' different. His scowl was deeper and dragged his face down, leaving dark shadows to stain normally pleasant features. At first she thought he was just angry, but a second glance told it was more than that. She'd seen that same troubled expression on herself too many times to not recognise it on him.

Elodie's heart sunk.

"Hey."

Diego said nothing. Just accepted the already prepared drink, dipping his head in a silent 'thank you'.

"No problem," Elodie mumbled, softer than she had been all day. "Holler if you need anything."

He still did not respond.

Elodie wasn't sure what to do. It was almost the end of her shift, but she couldn't just hover over him and bother him for details. He didn't seem like he would want to talk here, anyways. But should she leave him alone? Did he want her company, or just a drink to sedate the misery?

In the end, she chose to leave him, ducking into the back for a moment of relief. His grief-stricken face panicked her, and she didn't know how to help -- him or herself. She could clean a wound but emotional bandages were a whole other level of difficulty.  And she wasn't sure she could do shit about that.

But he was also there. She doubted he would show up if he wasn't looking for something, even just proximity to another person. She knew the feeling, but--

"You okay?"

She glanced up from her shaking hands to see Charlie slouched in the doorway. "I'm good. Just takin' a moment."

"Your guy's out there."

"I know."

"You fight or something?"

"No, he's just -- I just --" Elodie sighed and pulled herself up from the chair. Unease bit at her mind like the rosebushes she would get tangled in as a kid - that was, with thorns digging in and pain making her act irrationally, thrashing about like that would free her arms.

"I'm fine. Just had to grab something."

"C'mon, you can talk to me."

She knew she could; maybe that was the problem. "I have to get back to work."

Charlie's dark, worried eyes bore into her. She twisted to escape his stare, only to squeak as he took her hands in his. She pulled them away a second later, but not before he could feel them.

He let out a low whistle. "You're burnin' up, girl."

Hilarious. Great. She shoved her hands deep into her pants pockets. A thousand excuses tickled her mind, but none of them was good enough to explain his curiosity away. Were they? Even the world's strongest fever probably wouldn't explain such a force beneath someone's skin. Charlie was no idiot, and he certainly wasn't oblivious to her oddities already. He knew she was secretive, so what was to say he didn't already see right through her unsaid excuses?

Elodie's panic levels rose. The rose thorns dug deeper.

"What's going on?" It was phrased as a question, but it was more of a statement, a kind-hearted demand for her to share. "Don't you trust me?"

"'Course - course I trust you, Charlie."

"Well then, can't you tell me what's got you like this? I mean," he stole a glance back to the bar, eyes grazing over the figure dressed in black. "If he's done something--"

"-Diego's fine. Nothing happened, I just needed a moment."

"An' you know I don't believe you. It's rare to see you shaken like this."

Elodie's hand dug a little deeper into her pockets. "Charlie. I'm fine."

"I just want to help!"

"And I'd appreciate that, if there was a need for it."

The man let out a low groan. "You're not so good at secrets, you know. I know when something's bothering you, and - well, c'mon. You n'I both know what happens when you hold that shit in."

Normally, Elodie would try to be gentler. But she didn't have the energy or patience, and so she pulled away with greater force than she even meant. The barbs dug into her arms, leaving her hissing like a cat. "I'm fine. Just like I told you."

"I--"

"--fucking hell," she cursed, "just let me get back to work!"

She did not mean to be so harsh. It just came out.

She never had been much good at running quietly.

Charlie's lips pursed and he nodded, slowly, though it was clear he did not accept her answer. It was hard to piss off Charlie, but somehow she had done it - a crazy ass dumb miracle that left Elodie gap-mouthed, watching him walk out without saying another word. She considered saying something to him, but that would do no good. Besides, she had nothing to say, nothing that would really make things better for the both of them.

Elodie swept a tired hand across her face and followed him out. Only, Charlie went one way and she went the other, resigning herself to the same spot she was in before. Diego still stared blankly down at his hands and she decided to go back to washing glasses and manning her side without another word.

The half-hour left ticked away slowly, minutes trickling like tar. All she wanted to do was leave, but it was impossible at the time. She wasn't about to ask Charlie to cover for her after her outburst, and there was too much to do already. But her hands ached from how hard she clenched them, and she wondered when the next glass would blow, if she'd make a bigger scene this time.

And to think, her morning had started so happily.

Finally, though, the clock hit midnight and Elodie was sweeping out, dressed in her worn coat scarf and boots. Diego was already by the door, not dressed for the weather but still stubbornly claiming that blank expression. She had hoped it would change in the five minutes of her in the back room, but she supposed she was wrong.

"Night," she called softly to Charlie. 

He did not look her way. 

"Are you good, here?"

He just nodded. Claire - good lord, she had forgotten the girl was even there - at least made more of an effort, smiling and waving good-bye, but it was obvious she had been the source of his rants about her that night.

"Thanks," she murmured to Diego, slipping under his arm as he held the door. She bit back her comment about 'a total gentleman'. 

The pair walked in silence. No sharp-tongued insults or call-outs, or philosophical questionings of the world around them that would lead to Elodie's cheeks aching from grinning and Diego's shoulder constantly brushing hers. Instead, he walked beside her with his hands in his pockets and she tried to concentrate on walking in a straight line.

Elodie spared a couple of looks his way, but they were brief and her eyes quickly looked back down to the ground. She kept trying to come up with something to say but failed miserably. After all, despite how close they were physically, they might as well be strangers - past the superhero gag, she knew very little about Diego. And trying to pull new information out of him would probably only make things worse. If her own stubborn nature was any way to judge, well...

Finally, the temptation became too great, and Elodie stopped in her tracks. When he turned, she had her arms crossed and her foot tap-tap-tapping in the snow like a pissed-off mother would, waiting to scold her kid.

"What is wrong?"

"What?"

"What's wrong with you? You've been zip-lipped all night, and you're - you're clearly upset about somethin'. I don't know what, but somethin's happened and it's made you go all silent film on me."

Diego's gaze softened the littlest bit. "M'fine. Just want to get you home."

"Well, I'm not moving 'til you talk to me."

"Come on. You're gonna freeze out here."

She tilted her chin up in defiance, "wanna bet?"

"No. Please, let me get you home." He moved, then, just to grab her arm and tug gently. He frowned when she did not move. "Elodie."

"Diego."

"Come on."

"No."

"Please-"

"-please-"

"-let me-"

"-talk to me," she whispered, voice dropping suddenly as all confidence flew out into the winter winds and carried themselves away. She felt like she was crumbling, staring at him, taking in the obvious sadness and just how defiant he was to not express it. Just as she had been, mere hours before. 

"Just - I...I dunno. Sorry."

Elodie had lost her will to fight him, seeing how his face made up after moments of conflict and brushed past to walk again. She burned with shame, an embarrassment for holding a tantrum and yelling when it came to no avail. Stubborn asshole would not talk and she just did a fat load of nothing to help him. Maybe she just made things worse.

Funnily enough, she would not make the connection between him and her own issues - more importantly, how she refused to talk to Charlie but would yell at him for not letting her in. And if it did cross her mind, she pushed it back for fear of entirely breaking down, knowing that she could not take that mental confrontation just then.

She walked alone for a couple of yards before he was back by her side. Only he stood closer that time. His head did not hang so low. He still dared not look at her, but at least there was something there, even if neither of them talked.

Elodie nudged his shoulder. "I'm sorry for pushing you."

"Don't be."

"Well, I am."

Diego looked at her, finally, slowing his walk as his gaze softened. "You shouldn't be. You're just trying to help."

"And I want to. Help, I mean."

Elodie's hands at this point had left her coat pockets and dangled by her side, and in a moment of surprise, Diego took one up and held it tight in his own. She tried not to start from the sudden action but stared at him quizzed.

"T-thanks."

"Sure."

They were just outside the building, at that point, coming up into the parking lot and where people were coming in and out. Though she hardly looked their way and he seemed not to notice them, staring at her with the strangest expression, one she could not even begin to read. They just stood there, faces illuminated by the crappy street lights, with reddened noses and widened eyes.

It felt like a scene straight out of a movie. If a movie would be written about them, a vigilante and a hothead with crazy screwed-up lives that could not communicate for the life of them. Even if the world depended on it, they probably would remain tight-lipped about anything regarding how they felt, too terrified of what it meant to share those thoughts with the other.

It would be Elodie to move her hands out of his grasp, feeling them grow too shaky and hot and herself too self-conscious, standing there in the snow. "You wanna come in?"

"I gotta go."

"Just for a moment or two," she offered. "It's cold. You can warm up."

Diego hesitated, shifting his weight from boot to boot. He accepted silently and followed. They shuffled into the elevator and huddled close as an elderly woman followed suit, resting on her cane as the floors ticked up. Normally, Elodie wouldn't be so comfortable being near him in public areas, but she cared very little for the lady's inquisitive looks that night. She only squeezed a little tighter to his fingers and hoped he could understand what she was trying to tell him.

Once in the safety of her apartment, Elodie felt like she could think again. Her thick-socked toes padded across the apartment and into the kitchen like she always did, sloppily 'setting up' to heat the water. Her palms pressed against the half-filled kettle, waiting for it to reach boiling point. Tea would help, it always helped her and he liked it, didn't he?

She turned to ask, only to find that he hadn't moved from the doorway.

"You can sit, take off your coat, shoes..." Elodie chuckled mirthlessly. "Well, you know where everything is."

"I don't want to stay."

"Diego."

"I can't," he muttered, still at the door. 

She was not sure if she wanted to yell at him or tear up from her own frustration. Neither seemed to be a good option, though and instead, Elodie sank two tea bags into the same two mugs they always used. She poured the water in carelessly, ignoring when it splashed up onto her trembling fingers. 

Diego hesitantly took the mug she offered him, though it was only after she had practically forced it into his hands. He stood stock-still with it. Just watched blankly as she fussed around the apartment. Elodie set her own mug down in the living room, shifting her blanket up to the couch before heading back to him.

"Take off your coat and sit with me."

"I don't have time, 'Lodie."

"The world can wait for a half-hour for their Robin Hood to defrost. If you had time to sit at the bar for a while and walk me home, then there's enough time for you to sit down."

At first he continued to not move, and she wondered if he was just going to leave. But before she could ask again, he finally groaned and shrugged his jacket off. He slid it onto the hook beside her own and followed her to the couch reluctantly.

"I really don't--"

"--I'm not letting you leave 'til you've warmed up."

"I am warm. I'm good."

Elodie stopped in her tracks and turned to press a hand to his cheek. The motion was fast but gentle, and though it lasted but a second, she knew it had shocked him. The woman did not miss how he subconsciously leant into it, and how when she pulled back, his expression slipped into something a little sadder. She almost considered putting it back, wondering if their broken pairing could spare that hint of true intimacy.

Instead, she just bared her teeth and nodded to the couch. "You're frozen like a fuckin' fish stick. Drink your tea and warm up."

The almost-sweet moment was blown to pieces, but at least he listened that time.

Diego sipped at the mug in his hand, stone-faced and stiff at the edge of her couch. He didn't look her way, and certainly didn't move to make conversation. Not that she had expected otherwise.

Elodie glanced down to the mug in her hand. "These are my last tea bags," she remarked, a little mournfully. "I mean...I got more, but I don't have any of this kind."

He didn't answer, but she could tell he was listening, and so she continued.

"They only make this blend in this small tea place across the city, you know. S'posed to taste like apple strudel, and...well, I guess it sort of does." Elodie chuckled a little. "It's a comfort drink, you know? A coworker - Charlie, from the bar, gave it to me. He didn't know my birthday, so he gave it in the late August as a gift..." her voice trailed off then, smaller at the thought of her almost-friend.

The young woman looked up again, smiling sadly at Diego. She held up her mug as though to say, 'what are you gonna do?'. 

"It's the little things in life, you know?"

"Yeah," he rasped. "M'sorry."

"Don't be. It's just tea."

But it felt like more than that.

Elodie adjusted herself on the couch so she could sit a bit closer to him. He didn't shift away. "What happened tonight, Diego?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. It was something," Elodie retorted, moving closer even while snapping. "I at least know you enough to see that you're upset over a very real something, and you can't - don't just internalise that and slow-roast your heart to death, inside."

"What?"

"Nothing. Ignore that. Just...what's up with you?"

For a second, the man's eyes fluttered shut and clenched, as though reliving the memories over again in his mind. They flew back open, but his gaze was hollow, dead - saddened by whatever he had reseen. "I...I was too l-l-l-late. Too s-s-slow."

She shifted closer, just far enough from touching. "I'm sorry."

"I-I should'a been t-t-there."

"You did your best, and you still-"

"-they d...d-" he froze, trying to force the word out but eventually giving up. His eyes were wide and dark from unshed tears. His lip quivered. "I c-couldn't get there fast en-n-nough."

There was nothing Elodie could really say to that. No 'it's okay', no 'you'll do better next time', nothing that would fill that hole of grief and shame he had built himself. Saying that he tried, or that he did his best, was just leaving out the snippy 'you just weren't good enough' that she knew he would silently finish with. 

The loss of anyone, even a stranger, weighed on a heart. She knew that all too well. And she knew that words, at least her own, were not going to be close to enough to what he needed. He was too stubborn and too hard on himself, not unlike in the way she self-destructed, and telling him empty lies would only make the wound bleed more.

So, she shifted gears.

Elodie slid all the way forward and set her mug down. He watched her for a beat as she hovered hesitantly before opening her arms.

His eyes flitted up to her eyes, a silent question waiting.

Her arms hung open awkwardly, shaking ever so slightly.

"Come here," she mumbled. 

And he did.

Elodie held onto him as tight as she could, trying to ignore the harness and the way his knife sheaths dug against her skin. Her hands clutched at his sweater fabric and drew him in even closer so at that point, he was very nearly on top of her. And she worried it might be too much, that he didn't even want this until --

-- his body shuddered in her grasp, and she knew she had made the right choice.

Her lips found any skin they could and traced kisses into the cold flesh, willing life back into it wherever she could. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, right next to his ear. Her hands twisted behind his back, pressing circles into his shoulders and neck. He shook in her arms; she tried not to let his silent sobs hurt her too much. "I'm so sorry."

IN THE END, he stayed the night. Neither of them had really considered anything of it, it just happened. They were both exhausted and emotionally drained, barely able to communicate past broken phrases and sniffles on both ends. Elodie had mumbled something about him not daring to head out in his state, and Diego had just followed along. They found their way to her bed like drunken teenagers, stumbling over one another and their clothes. Half-awake and half-nude they laid there together, eyes closed and only her shaky voice to fill the silence.

Elodie had never been a talker, but she spoke freely that night like the words were flowing without even thinking about it. She told him as much as she could, letting every word out the second it crossed her mind. She told him about her first days at Wallow's, how shy she felt around the drunkards and shouts, and how Charlie had taken her under his wing. She recounted some tales about her brother, though she dared not tell him all of it -- just how she would 'kidnap' him and take him for a matinee instead of to school, and how she treated him to ice cream whenever she could because the poor boy never had many sweets in his life. She claimed he was the smartest kid she knew and she would defend him until the day she died, no matter how much he would annoy her at times.

Her voice dipped and thickened with tears at those sentences, but she continued anyways, telling him that she would do anything to give that kid a happy life. And then, a beat later, that she had never told anyone about her brother before.

Diego didn't say much, but she knew he was listening. And when her voice gave out, he mumbled into the darkness, on about how every time the police radio he had copped shared something that even vaguely met a sibling's description, his heart stopped. And how happy he had been to be invited to his sister's wedding, even it had been a shitshow of an event. He hadn't even really liked the man she married, but she had looked happy, and 'pretty nice, for an asshole'. And that he did miss seeing his siblings like that, actually happy, even if they fought like animals immediately after.

Their bodies curled into one another and intertwined as the night went on, slowly succumbing to their weariness.

ELODIE HAD TO BE UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, though she wished she could lay there for hours more. She untangled herself from his arms with a groan, trying her best to make sure he stayed asleep. And somehow, he did.

Just before leaving her place, Elodie stopped to write a note she placed on the table next to the bed. She paused over his figure and pressed a careful kiss into his cheek before darting out, grateful he was not awake to see her drop her act.

That night got stored with the other unspoken moments of tenderness, locked away with what could even be considered love. They never talked about it, just like all the others, because addressing it meant facing the scariest emotion of it all. But neither of them forgot the comfort of one another, and sought it out more often, looking for that touch a little faster and not shying away like before.

Alexa, cue 'I Won't Say (I'm in Love)' from Hercules, aka the thesis of this book wrapped up in a song.

This book is really making me miss having like...just people. I mean that in the romantic and platonic sense because while I miss having someone to love like that, I really miss having friends. Damn all this 2020 mess.

On another note, I have really dipped in uploading this and I'm sorry to the few new viewers who regularly check this out. My regular dips in health are really playing with my attempts at normalcy on this site, but I've been working on rewriting as much as I could while stuck in bed, and so I am hoping this sticks around to regular updates. :)

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought!