Yeah, well, that's the kind of thing it's nice to have a good long clarifying chat with a fellow warden about. It's a good thing one who knows you mutually came over, asked me how I was doing, asked what had happened, told me she understood I was trying my best and suggested I communicate better with you about. It's great working in this supportive fucking community where people have your back and don't kick you when you're down.
Nothing. [Deep breath in, deep breath out. He continues, much more measuredly.] I am at peace with the fact that I do not get to experience emotional resolution for what went down. I was there for you to learn on, and it wasn't always comfortable but I still consider myself to have come out ahead in the bargain. It was a privilege to be your warden and every moment of pain was more than worth it.
But I do not owe shit in terms of explaining emotional intelligence to the friendly neighbourhood sentient Christmas tree ornament. [Whoops, getting a little less measured here. Another deep breath.] That can be your pet project. If you want to make it up to me, field all of this. You are now our official buffer, henceforth, and I am happy to answer any and up follow up questions you have.
I also need you to tell Gortys I'm not angry with her or avoiding her, because that would require me dealing with her making woebegone electronic sighs and chirps at me. It's only a white lie. I'm not even mad at her, I know she doesn't know any better, I'm just mad her whole deal is threatening to become my problem when I've got way bigger fish to fry.
The first thing I did after the end of the breach was drink a bottle of
whiskey and sleep for fourteen hours. That probably had deleterious
effects.
Frankly, I feel it would be arrogant and presumptuous, even beyond the
extremes to which I can go, to suggest I understand anything about
how you felt. I understand that what I did was horrifying. I betrayed
your trust to an obscene degree and violated you, physically and
intimately. I can't know how that feels.
[He sits with that for a while. It feels irrational to him - why
would you be ashamed of yourself over someone else's behaviour? But then
again, he drank himself into a stupor post-breach for the exact same reason
before going on the network and refusing to apologize for any of
it.]
I'm sorry I didn't tell you why I fell off the face of the earth after I blew up at you. I didn't know how not to make it worse, and I thought at the time I was doing the right thing for you. In retrospect, I should have come back sooner, I should have written, I shouldn't have left you to interpret something that seemed obvious to me.
Anyways- because I promised to clarify- I never felt violated by what happened. It's not a bad guess so it's a good impulse, but you may as well know I didn't experience it that way. It was just a lot of pain, and a lot of ongoing dread.
Of course not. But I was discomfited by the ease with which you appeared to move past it, and even more uncomfortable with going under your knife. I didn't-
You'll understand this better than I would have given you credit for, but it was challenging imagining you standing in the same position above me, with a scalpel back in my socket.
Yes, the fact that you weren't horrified or apologetic- I never felt like it was your fault, but I did wonder you didn't care.
I thought it would be good for you. If I demonstrated right away that I did trust you, and presented you with the opportunity to use your brilliant abilities for good.
Oh- god, no. I should have been more specific. I'm not huge on apportioning blame for messes- I just wanted you to feel tangibly that week that there was more you were capable of.
[He wonders briefly: would he still have done what he did, if he was
explicitly made aware he was being given the opportunity to do good? But he
has to admit to himself that yes, he almost certainly would.]
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Quentin-
Clearly this is beyond the limits of my emotional intelligence. Tell me what you want me to do.
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But I do not owe shit in terms of explaining emotional intelligence to the friendly neighbourhood sentient Christmas tree ornament. [Whoops, getting a little less measured here. Another deep breath.] That can be your pet project. If you want to make it up to me, field all of this. You are now our official buffer, henceforth, and I am happy to answer any and up follow up questions you have.
I also need you to tell Gortys I'm not angry with her or avoiding her, because that would require me dealing with her making woebegone electronic sighs and chirps at me. It's only a white lie. I'm not even mad at her, I know she doesn't know any better, I'm just mad her whole deal is threatening to become my problem when I've got way bigger fish to fry.
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Alright.
[A silence.]
What would emotional resolution look like? Do you feel it's necessary?
[Because he knows he's never getting it for what Bucky did to him, either, and he's not sure how to sit with it.]
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I don't need sympathy or empathy, but it would offer me resolution to hear that you understand.
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When you say 'what happened', are you referring to the entire process or its...resolution?
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I'll clarify or correct any missing pieces.
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...Quentin, this conversation has already proven that I am completely inept in this area. I cannot - embody someone else emotionally to that degree.
That, and I don't remember the breach particularly well.
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The first thing I did after the end of the breach was drink a bottle of whiskey and sleep for fourteen hours. That probably had deleterious effects.
Frankly, I feel it would be arrogant and presumptuous, even beyond the extremes to which I can go, to suggest I understand anything about how you felt. I understand that what I did was horrifying. I betrayed your trust to an obscene degree and violated you, physically and intimately. I can't know how that feels.
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[Says Quentin, falling back into the couch, voice level now, eyes finally closed.]
No one came out and said 'I told you so,' even though a couple of them had.
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[He sits with that for a while. It feels irrational to him - why would you be ashamed of yourself over someone else's behaviour? But then again, he drank himself into a stupor post-breach for the exact same reason before going on the network and refusing to apologize for any of it.]
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I made you feel that way.
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I'm sorry I didn't tell you why I fell off the face of the earth after I blew up at you. I didn't know how not to make it worse, and I thought at the time I was doing the right thing for you. In retrospect, I should have come back sooner, I should have written, I shouldn't have left you to interpret something that seemed obvious to me.
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Quentin. I do not merit an apology.
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Anyways- because I promised to clarify- I never felt violated by what happened. It's not a bad guess so it's a good impulse, but you may as well know I didn't experience it that way. It was just a lot of pain, and a lot of ongoing dread.
Re: voice: private
[He almost belabors the point, but swallows the impulse.]
Did you blame me for what happened during the breach?
[Because he struggles to forget that Quentin, at one point, sounded a lot like he did.]
cw eye gore
You'll understand this better than I would have given you credit for, but it was challenging imagining you standing in the same position above me, with a scalpel back in my socket.
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I understand.
...it wasn't. Easy. But giving that affect seemed like the better option compared to compounding your trauma with my own.
I appreciate now that that may not have been the case.
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I thought it would be good for you. If I demonstrated right away that I did trust you, and presented you with the opportunity to use your brilliant abilities for good.
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I...must admit I saw it more as being given an opportunity to clear up my own mess.
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Oh.
I...knew that. The breach was an aberration.
[He wonders briefly: would he still have done what he did, if he was explicitly made aware he was being given the opportunity to do good? But he has to admit to himself that yes, he almost certainly would.]
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[He makes a low, morbidly amused sound.]
Apparently not in my case.
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