[He could choose not to reply- after all, he barely intended to tell her in the first place, around the selfishness of his own grief. But it leaves Bruce where he is now, with I didn't know you knew him reflected back at him. And what does he say? It comes in starts and stops.
STUPID, and after all the times Hopper instilled in her not to be just that. And she failed.
He saved her, and she trusted him, and he was important, but more importantly, Bruce knew him, and it's not the jagged edges of her own heartbreak she needs to think of. ]
[Bruce has always been intemperate in his grief, and the frequency with which he has been acquainted with it changes nothing. He has collected each shattered piece of Jim Gordon's lantern, wrapped them carefully inside his own jacket and the pain doesn't lessen.
There is no body left to bury.
Bruce does not, and will not reply. He does not and will not reply for many days.]
[ She does not ask to see him again. But she does not remain silent.
Throughout the following days, he will receive the occasional message. She takes a picture of an origami bird, no more skillful and no less made with care than the one he received, and she sends him that picture. Sometimes she tells him something benign about her day. 'Peter sneezed so hard his face smashed into his ice cream.' or 'I have a blanket fort now' or 'Fell decorated the town'.
They are things that don't matter. Things that are not important and things that don't help.
It's all she has. She wants to drop into the Void and check on him, and would risk the attention of the dog with the empty face again, but he's private and she doesnt like lying. And mostly, her powers have yet to return.
That, she does not mention to anyone yet, that cold, hard squeeze around her ribcage when she lies awake in he dark and thinks too much about the fact that she's powerless and useless and begins fearing that something broke during the defense that isn't fixing itself properly, that she's been hollowed out.
She grieves Jim Gordon. He saved her from drowning, and she won't ever forget that.
Mostly, she grieves for Bruce.
But she does not know how to be a source of comfort, how to be for others what they can so easily be for her - comfort. She barely knows how to hold her body and mind this side of the question 'person or monster', and even then sometimes she's not so sure. At any rate, all she can do is gently, carefully, remind him that she exists.
That for what little it's worth, she's still here in this place with him, and that she's not giving up on him, and that she'll give him the space.
Perhaps it's best that some of her friends here do not open themselves to her. She can reach neither Spider-Man nor Bruce through any means of the cold, smooth tablet-device, can't just walk to a house and knock on the door or throw it open with her mind and demand to be allowed to be a part of their lives. It's better perhaps - she dimly understands that other people are more complex than she is, in their emotions and their thoughts and their needs, and those people might not wish to have her force an entry where it's not wanted. She's learning to understand that, even though a petulant, volatile part of her feels the sting and finds it stupid. Part of growing up is learning about boundaries, and a girl trained to use her mind to spy, who can more or less at will find anyone she knows and wants to find under normal circumstances, well she might not have the best understanding of when a line is crossed.
She doesn't understand that sometimes it's good she doesn't get a chance to force her way in.
So she sends him a message or two, every day. Never asks to meet again, never makes demands of his time or his grief. Just tries, in her own small, lacking way, to make sure he understands that even in his voluntary solitude, he doesn't have to carry everyone alone.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savingthrows) wrote2019-07-31 01:14 am
@wayne | private
no subject
gone like dead
doesnt he come back at the church
people said so
no subject
He isn't coming back.
no subject
Her mind is static, vision blurring. She wipes at her eyes quickly.
Erases 'but', still wants to argue with the truth of it, and knows she can't. ]
i didnt know you knew him
no subject
He was-
Special.
Family.
His eyes burn. The noise in his head is so loud.]
I did.
no subject
She hadn't seen Gordon, and she'd assumed.
She'd thought...
Of course, she'd been wrong. Stupid.
STUPID, and after all the times Hopper instilled in her not to be just that. And she failed.
He saved her, and she trusted him, and he was important, but more importantly, Bruce knew him, and it's not the jagged edges of her own heartbreak she needs to think of. ]
okay
im coming to you
where are you
no subject
There is no body left to bury.
Bruce does not, and will not reply.
He does not and will not reply for many days.]
no subject
Throughout the following days, he will receive the occasional message. She takes a picture of an origami bird, no more skillful and no less made with care than the one he received, and she sends him that picture. Sometimes she tells him something benign about her day. 'Peter sneezed so hard his face smashed into his ice cream.' or 'I have a blanket fort now' or 'Fell decorated the town'.
They are things that don't matter. Things that are not important and things that don't help.
It's all she has. She wants to drop into the Void and check on him, and would risk the attention of the dog with the empty face again, but he's private and she doesnt like lying. And mostly, her powers have yet to return.
That, she does not mention to anyone yet, that cold, hard squeeze around her ribcage when she lies awake in he dark and thinks too much about the fact that she's powerless and useless and begins fearing that something broke during the defense that isn't fixing itself properly, that she's been hollowed out.
She grieves Jim Gordon. He saved her from drowning, and she won't ever forget that.
Mostly, she grieves for Bruce.
But she does not know how to be a source of comfort, how to be for others what they can so easily be for her - comfort. She barely knows how to hold her body and mind this side of the question 'person or monster', and even then sometimes she's not so sure. At any rate, all she can do is gently, carefully, remind him that she exists.
That for what little it's worth, she's still here in this place with him, and that she's not giving up on him, and that she'll give him the space.
Perhaps it's best that some of her friends here do not open themselves to her. She can reach neither Spider-Man nor Bruce through any means of the cold, smooth tablet-device, can't just walk to a house and knock on the door or throw it open with her mind and demand to be allowed to be a part of their lives. It's better perhaps - she dimly understands that other people are more complex than she is, in their emotions and their thoughts and their needs, and those people might not wish to have her force an entry where it's not wanted. She's learning to understand that, even though a petulant, volatile part of her feels the sting and finds it stupid. Part of growing up is learning about boundaries, and a girl trained to use her mind to spy, who can more or less at will find anyone she knows and wants to find under normal circumstances, well she might not have the best understanding of when a line is crossed.
She doesn't understand that sometimes it's good she doesn't get a chance to force her way in.
So she sends him a message or two, every day. Never asks to meet again, never makes demands of his time or his grief. Just tries, in her own small, lacking way, to make sure he understands that even in his voluntary solitude, he doesn't have to carry everyone alone.
Because no one can. ]