"Did you ever meet my friend Jade? Jade Harley. She's not here now, but she types in green and likes dogs."
Also she's a goddess and an artist and a horrible flute player and an amazing bassist, and she used to see the future in her dreams, and when he first met her in person on her frozen wonderland she wore a dress made of stars to greet him. She wears glasses and raised herself from the dead and moved entire planets to protect them all. She smacked the juggernaut creature that killed their guardians in the snout with a rolled-up newspaper.
But yeah. Jade Harley. She types in green and likes dogs.
Dave's hand tightens a little. "When I was thirteen, we...I found out I was going to die." He looks up briefly. "Obviously it was more complicated than that, and it didn't stick. But I didn't know that then. I just--all I knew was that I was going to run out of time. That alpha Dave was just gonna. Stop.
"I haven't even really talked about this with Bro," he mumbles after a pause, and he looks away again. The story's hard for him to get out, from the tight set of his jaw. He closes his eyes again and breathes out.
"Jade needed my help with a frog thing. A time thing. And I spent weeks with her, on my end. It was just a couple hours or something for her, but for me--I could've told her. I told myself I couldn't, because it'd fuck up the timeline if she stopped it from happening and then it would just happen anyway, but I didn't...I never even tried. Maybe some other me tried, but that me." He frowns at the opposite wall, ashamed and unforgiving. He shrugs stiffly. "That me wasn't me. And in the end." He doesn't notice, but his free hand is gripping the edge of his seat, white-knuckled, like he has to keep himself from flying the scene. "I let her shoot me in the back. I never warned her. I never let her know.
"And that's the one thing I regret most about all of it," he says, still unable to look Sheska in the eye, but suddenly vehement. "Because it didn't have to be her fault--it wasn't her fault--and I didn't give her the chance to change it. And I never...I never talked to her about it, after. I could've while she was here but I never did, and I never knew how she felt about it because I was scared, because it was the wrong thing. Not to tell her. And it wasn't her fault I didn't tell her. It wasn't on her to get that intel out of me."
He lets go of Sheska's hand to hunch forward and grip his seat with both hands. "So that's not on you, either. Even if you say it was a long time coming, even if you want to blame yourself for not seeing it, it's...that's not on you."
Dave goes silent again, contemplating the cast on his foot. In the end, he says, "If it were me, I'd be kicking myself over making you think that for even a second. And." He straightens a little, looking up at her. "I'd want to see you. For sure. I'd want to tell you myself that it was never on you."
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Also she's a goddess and an artist and a horrible flute player and an amazing bassist, and she used to see the future in her dreams, and when he first met her in person on her frozen wonderland she wore a dress made of stars to greet him. She wears glasses and raised herself from the dead and moved entire planets to protect them all. She smacked the juggernaut creature that killed their guardians in the snout with a rolled-up newspaper.
But yeah. Jade Harley. She types in green and likes dogs.
Dave's hand tightens a little. "When I was thirteen, we...I found out I was going to die." He looks up briefly. "Obviously it was more complicated than that, and it didn't stick. But I didn't know that then. I just--all I knew was that I was going to run out of time. That alpha Dave was just gonna. Stop.
"I haven't even really talked about this with Bro," he mumbles after a pause, and he looks away again. The story's hard for him to get out, from the tight set of his jaw. He closes his eyes again and breathes out.
"Jade needed my help with a frog thing. A time thing. And I spent weeks with her, on my end. It was just a couple hours or something for her, but for me--I could've told her. I told myself I couldn't, because it'd fuck up the timeline if she stopped it from happening and then it would just happen anyway, but I didn't...I never even tried. Maybe some other me tried, but that me." He frowns at the opposite wall, ashamed and unforgiving. He shrugs stiffly. "That me wasn't me. And in the end." He doesn't notice, but his free hand is gripping the edge of his seat, white-knuckled, like he has to keep himself from flying the scene. "I let her shoot me in the back. I never warned her. I never let her know.
"And that's the one thing I regret most about all of it," he says, still unable to look Sheska in the eye, but suddenly vehement. "Because it didn't have to be her fault--it wasn't her fault--and I didn't give her the chance to change it. And I never...I never talked to her about it, after. I could've while she was here but I never did, and I never knew how she felt about it because I was scared, because it was the wrong thing. Not to tell her. And it wasn't her fault I didn't tell her. It wasn't on her to get that intel out of me."
He lets go of Sheska's hand to hunch forward and grip his seat with both hands. "So that's not on you, either. Even if you say it was a long time coming, even if you want to blame yourself for not seeing it, it's...that's not on you."
Dave goes silent again, contemplating the cast on his foot. In the end, he says, "If it were me, I'd be kicking myself over making you think that for even a second. And." He straightens a little, looking up at her. "I'd want to see you. For sure. I'd want to tell you myself that it was never on you."