Hero (Tom Hiddleston)

15

I don't even wanna talk about it. I'm here now, okay? Sorry for sucking, please let me know what  you think.

She didn't really remember her conversation with Kyran from her moments in the alley... everything about the night had turned to a blur in her mind. But she could piece together enough to know that she'd said some things she definitely shouldn't have let slip, and she felt sick at the idea of talking to him again.

Yet, it wasn't like she had a choice. If she didn't call him before morning, he was likely to flip out and do something stupid like get on a plane. So, as the door closed behind her, finding her in the same room she'd occupied before, she sank into a seat on her bed and pulled out her phone.

It was past midnight, but that was no excuse. Kye would be waiting up, no matter how late it got. She stared at his name, her stomach working itself into an even tighter knot. God, she hoped he didn't freak out.

Trying not to think about it, she tapped his picture and raised the phone to her ear. It had barely finished its first ring before she heard the line transferring with a pick-up.

"Hey, General." His tone was soft and even, calm for her and because they'd last hung up with her in safe hands.

"Hey, Kye," she sighed.

"Where you at?"

"Back at the facility."

"For how long?"

"Just tonight."

"And then?"

She dropped back to lay on the bed, exhaling slowly. "It's up to me, so... a group home, I guess."

"What are your options?"

"That, Tom, or someone from before. So really, that's my only option."

He was silent for several seconds. That wasn't a good sign.

When he spoke at last, his voice was soft and concerned. "Shae, I really, really don't want you in a group home."

"Kye, I'll be..."

"I need you to be with someone who can keep you safe."

"What do you mean?"

She had the sinking feeling, the shiver of a memory, that she knew was he meant.

"I know it's been a long night," he said after another long pause. "And I know you probably said some stuff back there you didn't mean to say, and you probably don't even remember much of it. But I also know you're not a dramatic person. You don't say things you don't mean."

She didn't know what to say, so she kept quiet.

"Shae..." His voice was unbelievably gentle. "I've been there, okay? I've felt like I would be better off if I was dead, that everyone else would be better off if I was dead, that there's no point in continuing to breathe because I don't mean anything to anyone and it just hurts so **** much. I get it. But I need you, and I love you way too much to let you tell me you didn't mean it and you'll be fine. You did mean it, and that's nothing to be ashamed of, but you can't do this alone."

That part of their conversation came back to her in a rush, and she felt shame and regret wash over her in a flood.

"I'm sorry," she choked out after a second. "I know I scared you. But really, Kyran, I'm gonna be okay. It was just... after everything that happened tonight... it felt like I was never gonna get out of it. I know I am, so I'm not gonna hurt myself. I promise."

"I trust you, Shae. I don't want you to think that I think you're a child or some kind of a damsel in distress, because that's the last thing I think about you. You are the strongest person I know, and I know you don't need a hero. But you're also a human, and you do need other humans... at least one that can be there with you when I can't. You can't do life alone, and that's exactly how you're going to be doing it in a group home."9

Her eyes filled all over again with tears of utter helplessness. "Kyran, what choice do I have? I can't face any of them... I just can't. Not after what I did... what they did to me... every single night. And Tom... he's a stranger, his life is going pretty flawlessly without me. I'm not going to screw that up for him."

"Maybe it's perfect from the outside," Kye countered. "But maybe it's incomplete. Maybe God has put you into each other's lives to help one another, not just to see him help you."

"That doesn't make any sense." But she knew it was weak.

"Look." His tone was kind, but firm. "You've gotta let some people know you're okay. Grey, Nick, Burns, and Risto especially. But we can wait to do that until I'm in town if you go with Tom. Otherwise... Shae, I gotta call one of them. Even if you still go to a group home, I've gotta know someone is looking out for you. I don't wanna treat you like a kid, but I wanna keep you safe. Okay? It's up to you... you can go with Tom or someone from the church or you can go to the group home, but if you do, I gotta call Grey and let him know what's going on."

She didn't answer for a long moment, because she had no idea what to say. Arguing would be no use... she could hear in his tone that he'd already made up his mind. But what was she gonna do?

Burdening the self-proclaimed big brother she had in Grey would be better than burdening her celebrity hero.

But then she pictured Grey's face when he found out what she'd been doing, and her stomach tightened violently.

She couldn't do that. She just couldn't face him.

"Can I think about it?" she asked at last. "Sleep on it, like he told me to?"

"Course you can, Shae," Kyran sighed. "And you know I'm only doing this because I love you, right?"

"I know," she whispered.

"Good. Call me if you need anything."

"Will do."

"I love you, Shae."

"I love you too, Kye."

They hung up, and she dropped back onto her bed, exhaling slowly.

How had her life come to this? When did she become so broken? When did she become such a burden?

Out of sheer habit, she picked up her phone again and navigated to her movie library, starting "Thor" where they'd left off earlier. As usual, the moment she saw Loki, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

It was crazy... that Tom had gotten her through everything through the part he played, and then he'd walked into her life for real and done so much more. Offered so much more.

No. That wasn't an option.

Her mind returned to Grey, and her stomach lurched again.

What was an option?

She paused the movie and set down her phone again, staring up at the tiled ceiling with empty eyes.

"Please."

It was the best start at a prayer she'd had in months. Most began and ended with simply, "Jesus," the only word that seemed to say what she needed to say.

"Please show me what to do."

But the tug on her heart was telling her He already had.