Wren and Simon held each other in a stare for what seemed like centuries. It was like an unmovable force met an unstoppable object, in which Simon was desperate to know what happened while Wren was unwilling to tell. It was the next day now, and they found themselves in the living room ignoring everything around them until the other relented. Jennifer had tried to get Wren to do something for her, which Wren attempted to escape with her before Simon snapped at her to go bother Jesse instead. Even Fletcher got slightly snapped at when he asked if they wanted anything to eat. Simon wasn't going to give Wren any way out of this. It might have seemed unreasonable, but last night was proof enough to him that she needed to step away for a moment and allow herself time to reset. She was usually on top of everything, making sure nothing went wrong, but ever since the Furby incident, she had become more high-strung than usual. He wasn't going to let her get away until she realized that she needed to step back.
It had been a long night for both of them, staying by Jack's side until he finally responded to them. They had a brief argument over whether or not to use the Starfire Stone, but Simon wouldn't let her try unless Jack showed signs of needing it. He knew Wren had realized that she froze, and now she was trying to overcompensate for not acting immediately. Once Jack woke up, she was all over him, trying to make sure he was okay and wanting to know what happened, but Jack was clearly still out of it and didn't want to talk. At that point, Simon made her leave and go to bed. Nothing would have been accomplished, and she would have burned herself out for no reason. He spent the night in Jack's room, cleaning the mess and getting everything back in order before the others eventually woke up (or in Jesse's case, came out of the garage) and he had to explain the blood-soaked sheets.
Their standoff began when Simon returned from his morning run and found Wren in the living room having breakfast. He was still in his joggers and t-shirt, feeling dirty from the run, but he had to catch her before she could avoid the conversation. They had been sitting there for a couple of hours now, neither willing to break away.
Simon finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm. "Wren, we can't keep doing this. You can't keep avoiding it."
He watched her as she sat quietly, slightly breaking eye contact with him. If he really wanted to, he could access her memories from the night before to figure out what was going on, but he would never do that to her without permission. All he wanted to do was help, but how do you help someone who won't accept it?
"What happened last night?" Simon asked again, his tone softening as he leaned forward, trying to catch her eye. "I'm not upset," he added, wondering if she didn't want to talk because she thought he'd be mad. "I just want to know what was going through your mind."
He noticed her hands shaking as she held them tightly, trying to make them stop.
"I don't know," she muttered, though they both knew it was a lie.
"Please don't give me that," he sighed. "We both know you better than that." He leaned in closer, the determination in his eyes unwavering. "You do know. And it's eating you up inside. You don't have to carry this alone, Wren. Please, just talk to me."
He knew she would refuse to show any sign of distress, any indication that something was wrong. She was used to being the one people went to for help with every little mishap. Even if she wouldn't admit it, he knew it was building into something bigger, as evidenced by the rain. She had tried to explain it away, saying the town needed some rain and that the farmers would be happy for it. The problem was that the rain wasn't going away, surely drowning their crops more than helping them. But she would continue to say they needed the rain, as if the weather wasn't also connected to her emotions. It had been coming down since her fight with Jesse, and although it was light, it had been unrelenting. Something pushed her over the edge that night, and he wasn't sure if she even recognized it.
Wren remained silent as the rain tapped on the window, a reminder that her mental state wasn't as put together as she wanted others to believe. Simon moved closer, sitting next to her on the couch. He felt her stiffen as he tried to reach for her hand. He looked at her, seeking permission to hold it, and she shakily gave him her hand. He held it, feeling its trembling as Wren looked away, knowing full well she wasn't able to hide it anymore.
"Please?" he asked, holding her hand tightly to offer some comfort.
"I don't want to talk about it," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a weak defense, and they both knew it, but it was all she could manage.
Simon looked at her curiously. "Why not?" He knew why she didn't want to talk about it—because then she would have to admit her weakness—but she needed to.
"You know why," she stated, slightly annoyed.
"I do, but I'm not sure you know why," he reached for her other hand, wanting her to know he was there. "You can't be there all the time. It's piling up and affecting your ability to function, Jennifer. I know you've seen worse than what we saw last night. We've been through worse. So what happened?"
Wren froze at his words. He knew he'd struck a nerve. He felt bad for saying it, but she needed to start verbally processing what happened.
"Was it because it was Jack?" he inquired. "If it was, you know better than anyone that—"
"Because I thought I was too late," her voice snapped, amplified by the rain outside. "I saw all of it—I saw it and thought it was too late."
Simon's heart clenched at the pain in her voice, and he instinctively tightened his grip on her hands. The rain outside grew louder, almost as if it were echoing her turmoil.
"You weren't too late," he said quietly. "You were right on time."
"No," her voice was trembling now. "If I were on time, there wouldn't have been blood to start with."
"Wren, please," he held her hands tightly as they continued to tremble. "You couldn't have known when everything would happen. Jack is a grown man, and you can't control everything, no matter how hard you try."
"But—"
"No, please, I'm begging you to leave it alone for a while. I'll take care of Jack, but please, let me also take care of you. It's obvious that you're not doing well, and you have to give yourself grace," he pleaded. "You got to Jack in time, but let me get to you before it's too late."
Wren's breath hitched as the tears finally spilled over, her shoulders shaking with the effort to hold herself together. "I just... I don't want to lose anyone, Simon. Not after everything we've been through. We've come so far."
"I know," Simon whispered, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "I know. But you're not alone in this, Wren. I'm here, and you don't have to carry this weight by yourself."
The two of them sat quietly together as Wren allowed herself to fall into his embrace, her defenses crumbling as she clung to his reassurance. He held her tight, wanting to let her know that everything was going to be alright. They stayed like that as the rain began to lighten outside, taking in each other's company, ready for whatever might come their way.
