[ it's the first time he says it out loud, lying to clara about the cost, knowing she'd be furious if she knew what he was giving up for her sake. but after what they were confronted with in scorpion's bend, he can't find reason to keep it from marta, knows that he has to tell her, whether it's because he feels the guilt in what she's done for him, or simply because that's not who they are to each other. maybe marta has had reason to be compelled to only say the truth, but it's never about that either; they just don't lie to each other, like they just never needed to.
which is why this confession feels more important here, more than it might be anywhere else. and when she almost seems angry in her tone, he doesn't even question it, like it almost makes sense for her to be even when on the surface, it probably shouldn't.
he swallows when she demands a quicker answer, his response out of his mouth before she even finishes the question the second time around. ]
Three.
[ a simple number, but it carries something else in it. three months — two and a half of it had been spent between them in scorpion's bend, and the half that remains before that was the short time in which they'd met. it says everything about what they are, what they've been — a comfort in a time of crisis, in more ways than she's realized.
quietly, he adds, ]
I used you, Marta. [ his eyes peer up at her, caught between trying to stay stern and serious while fighting away the vulnerable ache that always slips through. ] I knew what was happening to me and I was ... I was ready to just deal with it, let it just eat me whole and leave me as nothing, because it didn't matter anymore. I didn't matter anymore. But then — then I woke up in this room and you were there. You were reading that damn book, and there wasn't anything spectacular or enlightening. It was just — you in that chair, all quiet and curled up, and I —
[ his eyes turn away now, both almost bashful and bearing the guilt that forms in a lump at his throat he's forced to swallow. ]
I realized I didn't want to do it alone. All the shit I've done in my life, all the people I've lost, and I was gonna waste away, and it didn't matter. But you were there, with your hope and your dolls, and I felt selfish. I wanted — Before I forgot everything and became something else, I wanted someone to remember me as I am. I wanted someone to remember me as something better, the way that — [ he peers up again, catching her eyes. ] The way that you see me. Even if I don't deserve that.
no subject
which is why this confession feels more important here, more than it might be anywhere else. and when she almost seems angry in her tone, he doesn't even question it, like it almost makes sense for her to be even when on the surface, it probably shouldn't.
he swallows when she demands a quicker answer, his response out of his mouth before she even finishes the question the second time around. ]
Three.
[ a simple number, but it carries something else in it. three months — two and a half of it had been spent between them in scorpion's bend, and the half that remains before that was the short time in which they'd met. it says everything about what they are, what they've been — a comfort in a time of crisis, in more ways than she's realized.
quietly, he adds, ]
I used you, Marta. [ his eyes peer up at her, caught between trying to stay stern and serious while fighting away the vulnerable ache that always slips through. ] I knew what was happening to me and I was ... I was ready to just deal with it, let it just eat me whole and leave me as nothing, because it didn't matter anymore. I didn't matter anymore. But then — then I woke up in this room and you were there. You were reading that damn book, and there wasn't anything spectacular or enlightening. It was just — you in that chair, all quiet and curled up, and I —
[ his eyes turn away now, both almost bashful and bearing the guilt that forms in a lump at his throat he's forced to swallow. ]
I realized I didn't want to do it alone. All the shit I've done in my life, all the people I've lost, and I was gonna waste away, and it didn't matter. But you were there, with your hope and your dolls, and I felt selfish. I wanted — Before I forgot everything and became something else, I wanted someone to remember me as I am. I wanted someone to remember me as something better, the way that — [ he peers up again, catching her eyes. ] The way that you see me. Even if I don't deserve that.