Northern Downpour

Part 15

Everything kind of blurred together as you went up to your apartment. You didn't really register any of it until you had closed the front door behind you. You changed out of your dirty and bloody clothes into some clean ones, and you rinsed your face off in the bathroom sink. Your reflection caught you off guard.

Bruises, little cuts and scrapes littered your face. Marks were beginning to appear where the handcuff chain had dug in. Your fingertips lightly brushed along the marks, and the ones on your face. Surprisingly, they didn't hurt. You wondered if it was because of the adrenaline, and you had yet to crash back down. Or maybe you had gone numb to more than just your emotions.

You trudged back to your bedroom regardless. You could hear your bed calling you, and you more than ready and willing to answer. You noticed something on the floor by your pants and picked it up. It was the photo of you and Faith you had taken from that board in the foundry.

Something in your heart strained. Granted, it had been straining for a few days now, but this time...this time you were pretty sure it was about to break. You set the photo down on your bed and pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. You tried to control your breathing, but it was no use.

You lost it. You hit the wall once, then twice, then you kicked your bed a few times. Your face was hot, and the tears did nothing to cool you down. If anything they seemed to make it worse.

Three quick knocks on your front door made you freeze. You wiped your face with the hem of your shirt, taking a few deep breaths, and counted to three before you went to open it.

"Did I leave a mess behind?" You asked, trying not to wince at how rough your voice sounded.

"Not really," Bigby replied, coming in.

You shut the door.

"Back at the foundry, you said you couldn't go up there because you would've killed him," he said.

You crossed your arms. "Yeah, and?"

"And you killed him at the Well. Why'd you wait?"

"That trial needed to happen," you replied. "They needed to see for themselves exactly what he was like."

He nodded. You could tell there was more.

"What?" You asked. "Whatever else you wanna ask me, Bigby, just ask me."

You passed him and headed for the kitchen.

"If he hadn't grabbed you, would you still have killed him?"

You stopped and turned. "Yeah. I would've. One way or another. He ordered my sister dead as if she were nothing but cattle, and then he had the balls to act like there was no blood on his hands. I wasn't gonna let him get away with it. I was always going to kill him."

"So it wouldn't have mattered what I decided."

"Don't give me that," you hissed. "I know you knew. You knew that's what I was gonna do, and you knew nothing and no one was gonna stop me, so don't, Bigby."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms in an attempt at distracting yourself from the burning in your eyes. You turned and went to the kitchen. You got a glass down for some water. One of the photos stuck on your fridge caught your attention--that one of you and Faith, when you had gotten the blue hair. The same photo that had been hanging on the wall in her apartment.

You bit your lip until you tasted blood, vision swimming with tears. You grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned over. Footsteps came and stopped in the doorway. Bigby called you. You shook your head and swallowed.

"Just give me a minute," you whispered.

You wished you could say the same thing to your heart. You weren't sure how much more you could take this, and you didn't really want to find out.

Bigby came over to you and put his hand on your shoulder, and that bit of your heart that had been straining finally snapped.

A hiccup, and then a sob left you. Your knees buckled, and you couldn't hold yourself up anymore. He caught you as you collapsed, sobbing so hard it felt like your heart was gonna leave your throat.

Everything you'd been holding in, all the pain and hurt and anger and grief--everything just came tumbling out. You hadn't thought it would happen on your kitchen floor, but you supposed shit just happens.

Bigby ended up carrying to you to bed. You asked him to stay, hating how broken you sounded. He got under the covers next to you. You weren't sure how fast you were out, but you were certain it would've taken you a lot longer if he hadn't been there.