[Possibly for the first time, Tosh has been....relieved, that Erik barely seems to know she exists.
It's given her a lot of time to get reacquainted with old friends.
She's never shrugged off her guilt. The lives lost because of her - she carries them around with her, dull scars on her heart that still throb with pain whenever she holds still long enough. And the Barge - the Barge is good for nothing if not encouraging stillness. She finds distractions for herself but it's never enough, not really, and if the Barge is painful then the Overlook Hotel is torture.
She wakes on Monday morning to find Tommy Brockless in her bed and he asks if she slept as well the night after she sent him to the firing squad. When she stumbles out of the shower, Mary hands her a towel and tells her that all she'd wanted was to go home. Owen watches her eat in the kitchen and tells her that he'd known she loved him, he'd always known, but the day would never come that he wouldn't take his empty one-night stands over the love of someone as screwed up as her.
When she curls up in the corner of her room on Tuesday evening and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, Harper chips in, asking softly if she remembers her other self, the woman she briefly became who couldn't feel guilt or pain or love. If she didn't miss that pleasant, predictable numbness and she does, God help her, she'd give anything for life to be so simply again.
He touches her pale cheeks and rubs her quaking shoulders and tells her she can make that happen, and she just nods.
She doesn't even really remember walking back downstairs. She's been longer than thirty-six hours without sleep before, and handled it better, but right now she feels floating and disconnected. The lobby's warm but she observes it rather than feels it.]
[Spam]
It's given her a lot of time to get reacquainted with old friends.
She's never shrugged off her guilt. The lives lost because of her - she carries them around with her, dull scars on her heart that still throb with pain whenever she holds still long enough. And the Barge - the Barge is good for nothing if not encouraging stillness. She finds distractions for herself but it's never enough, not really, and if the Barge is painful then the Overlook Hotel is torture.
She wakes on Monday morning to find Tommy Brockless in her bed and he asks if she slept as well the night after she sent him to the firing squad. When she stumbles out of the shower, Mary hands her a towel and tells her that all she'd wanted was to go home. Owen watches her eat in the kitchen and tells her that he'd known she loved him, he'd always known, but the day would never come that he wouldn't take his empty one-night stands over the love of someone as screwed up as her.
When she curls up in the corner of her room on Tuesday evening and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, Harper chips in, asking softly if she remembers her other self, the woman she briefly became who couldn't feel guilt or pain or love. If she didn't miss that pleasant, predictable numbness and she does, God help her, she'd give anything for life to be so simply again.
He touches her pale cheeks and rubs her quaking shoulders and tells her she can make that happen, and she just nods.
She doesn't even really remember walking back downstairs. She's been longer than thirty-six hours without sleep before, and handled it better, but right now she feels floating and disconnected. The lobby's warm but she observes it rather than feels it.]
Erik.
[She knew he'd gone. More or less.]
Thank God you're alright. I was worried.
[Entirely true, for entirely the wrong reasons.]