exsiliumlogs | [OPEN] Tonight is the night, we’ll fight 'til it’s over

[OPEN] Tonight is the night, we’ll fight 'til it’s over

Date & Time: Saturday 31st, starting at 9:00 pm o'clock
Location: THE PARTY WAREHOUSE
Characters: ERRBODY
Summary: Ella throws a party. It is awesome. Get your asses in here people. With subthreads for maximum OCDness.
Warnings: Drunk people, loud music, teenage drama! Nothing bad overall though.

[ It was seriously happening.

Food? Check.
Drinks? Check.
Lights? Check.
Music? Check.
DJ ClaudsterRedhead? Check.

There was no time for yet another complete check up, it was now or never. Ella fought the urge of making it a "never" and decided that whatever happened was already out of her control. Best intentions and all, whether it turned to be a great party or not depended on the people that would come. All she hoped was that the guests didn't destroy the place; she was kind of thinking about a future party to come and finding one good spot had been difficult enough.

But enough dillydallying, it was party time! ]]

((OOC: ~~PLEASE WAIT WHILE I PUT THE SUBTHREADS UP.~~ GO GO GO))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She isn't sure where they're going, but for all that she's still angry with Saul, still feels betrayed and isn't sure she trusts him not to fuck up somehow. She... trusts him not to hurt her.

He needs her, he said it himself. He trusts her, too, and he--

She thinks about what she said to Donny, about someone you love, and she wonders if that goes for Saul, too.

He might do things that upset her, but he wouldn't really hurt her, because he loves her, right?

It's hard to breathe all of a sudden, and she almost startles a little when Saul takes her hand, looking at him almost questioningly, before what he says manages to drag her out of her thoughts.]

No. [She says it quick, but quiet. She told Babs that she made a promise.] You don't have to do this alone.

[Repeating what he said back to him, because he just told her that he needs her.]

[Oh, he'll fuck up. Whether it's with this or something else, it'll happen. Because he's human, and because he's in circumstances way the fuck beyond his control, and because he keeps finding himself in situations like this where he's dangling a tasty little carrot right in trouble's face and saying heeeeere, trouble trouble trouble. Who's a good girl?

He studies her for a few seconds, expression not quite blank, but definitely unreadable.]

I don't want you to feel like... you have an obligation. To me. For whatever reason.

[And she's watching him in turn, more grateful than she'll ever admit for the fact he's holding her hand. It helps to anchor her, keep her steady.]

Saul... [A quiet sigh, before she manages to find the words.] I need you, too. [Whether that too is because she said she needs Oracle, or because he said he needs her, she isn't sure, but it probably doesn't matter.

So it's not about obligation, not really.]

[Saul's heart just leapt into his throat, so yeah, it matters. Or — maybe it's not the too that matters; maybe what matters is that Saul isn't sure she really understands what he meant when he said he needed her, because he knows she probably doesn't mean it the same way and never will.

If she'd said it last week, before all this went down, he'd have been okay. It would've been no big deal, because he has Effie and she has Ellie and unrequited love sucks but they're all adults and they can deal with it.

But now he just looks incredibly sad.

He tries to keep his eyes on her, tries to figure out how he should respond to that with words, but he can't do either. All he wants to do is kiss her. It shows, too, in the way he leans forward just slightly and gives her hand a little tug, but then he just — he stops. Freezes.

And instead, his attention drops to the ground.]

[She sees it, and that's obvious, too, because she goes still and starts to pull back, knowing how much they can't do this, not now. It was different when things still weren't decided, with her and Ellie, when it wasn't official, but she knows she couldn't live with the guilt of it, now.

When he looks down, she finishes that gesture of pulling away, carefully easing her hand from his and pulling her blazer tighter around herself.]

I'm sorry, Saul.

[For this, for how screwed up everything is, for how sad he looks.]

[The apology doesn't help. For all the times she's apologized to him — and there have been many — he can recall maybe only two or three times when he felt better after hearing it. She might feel sorry, but the way he sees it, they're empty apologies; she's saying she's sorry for things she didn't do, things she had and has no control over. He hates that he makes her feel like she needs to do that for him.

She's still not getting it, he thinks. How is she still not getting it? She's a Bat. She's good at her job. How can someone who keeps watch over an entire city miss something so obvious?

He knows it's the alcohol talking, urging him to just go ahead and say it already, you stupid coward. But she deserves to know, doesn't she? Maybe putting it out there in the rainy, chilly open will be the one thing that really does make him feel better. Maybe it'll shock him back to his senses and he can move on. It's a weight he's been carrying with him for months, and it's really not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, is it? And the theme of this week has been truth-telling, hasn't it?

He looks up at her when she pulls away.

Maybe he should check, first. To make sure she doesn't already know. She could know and she could be hiding it, because Lord knows one of them has been more consistently professional than the other — can you take a wild guess at who? — and he doesn't want to say it like it's some pathetic newsflash, so...]

You know I love you, right?

[It's not quite a wince, how she closes her eyes, how her shoulders sink, but it's pretty damn close, and it's the only thing she can do in response to that question.

It's not as if she wasn't just thinking about it, but she knows from the way he looked at her, the way he says it, that he doesn't mean it in the way she was trying to cling onto. It's not the way Babs loves her, or Cass, or Tim, it's not about loving a friend, like she loves Collette or Dick or those few people from back home.

He means I'm in love with you, and that's why she winces, that's she can't look at him even when she manages to open her eyes again. Her chest feels too tight and she can't breathe, because, yeah, of course he loves her. She really should have seen it before now, but that doesn't make it any easier.

It definitely doesn't make it any easier to find a response. What is she supposed to say? That she knows, except for how she didn't, not really. She wants to say you shouldn't but that just seems so self-centered and useless, it's not like saying that will change anything. She wants to apologize again, but how can she apologize for something like this? There's even a part of her that wants to start shouting again, that wants to remind him he's twice her age and a criminal and that it isn't fair of him to do this to her, but it's just that petty part of her talking. She knows he isn't doing this to try to mess with her or hurt her.

It's just an unfortunate side effect, and one that's leaving her speechless.]

[He means it both ways. Some days, it's more in love than love. Other days, it's the opposite. Right now, it's equal.

Her silence makes him nervous, and for a second he's worried she's going to make a break for it and maybe never speak to him again. He wouldn't blame her, if she did — he knows this is weird, he knows she hates the part of him that's responsible for doing so many terrible things, he knows this is stupid and reckless and impossible.

Saul has tried very, very hard to use these facts to convince himself to stop feeling this way. It hasn't worked. It never will work.

He's not finished yet.]

That's what I meant when I said I didn't want anything from you. That's when I realized.

[That manages to make her look up in surprise.]

Oh.

[Oh, she gets it. Give the girl a prize.

Her gaze drops again.]

You didn't think to say anything?

[It's not an accusation, it almost comes out like a joke, as if he was keeping some unimportant fact from her, instead of this. She doesn't know what else to say, she just feels stupid for not realizing sooner, and overwhelmed by the whole thing.]

[That makes him laugh. It's not bitter or angry or even all that tired-sounding; it's just amused and a little drunk, and it's enough to ease some of the tension he's been holding in his shoulders.]

What, like, oh — by the way, Steph, this might come as a surprise to you, but...

[He rubs his eyes, still laughing quietly.]

Yeah, no. I couldn't. I didn't want to, uh... burden you with that.

[She watches him carefully at that, not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that he's laughing, and she drags her lower lip between her teeth as she waits for him to speak again.

What he does say doesn't actually help her form a response, but she manages something that might be a rueful smile, the corner of her mouth twisting a little.]

What changed?

[Why's he telling her now?

She thinks she can guess — he nearly lost her, might still lose her, when she decides whether she can forgive him — but maybe she wants to hear it, wants to know for sure.]

What changed is that for a few seconds in the hallway the other day, you looked at me like...

[The memory of all that makes his laughter fade. It's abrupt and leaves a silence in its wake that startles even Saul, but he allows the quiet to hold for a moment while he searches for the most fitting description.

Nothing turns up.]

I dunno. I just — whatever happens, whatever I do, I need you to know that I could never hurt you. Not on purpose. Okay?

[Like what? she wants to ask, but she doesn't think she has a right to, and even if she did, she doubts he'd actually have an answer for her.

She looked at him like she hated him, like she wanted to walk away and never speak to him again. She knows because that's how she felt.

The rest of what he says just makes her sigh.]

I know you wouldn't. [Not on purpose.] But it's not me I'm worried about.

[It's that whatever I do, it's the other people who Saul doesn't love, who might get caught in the crossfire of all this bullshit, the way she's assuming that kid did.]

I didn't want you to get involved. I knew —

[Well, no, he didn't know all this would happen. He suspected it might, but he was hoping for a better outcome.]

I know what happens to the people who get dragged into this. But I was desperate. I didn't know who else to go to, and you were just... there. For me. I think I took advantage of that. I'm really sorry, Steph.

[No one's ever said anything like that to her before, and it leaves her as speechless as the I love you did. Bruce and Leslie used her for their own purposes, she knows it, no matter how much they promise they didn't, and neither of them would ever think about apologizing. Bruce took advantage of how much she wanted his approval to try to lure Tim back, Leslie took advantage of... everything. Babs used her to make a point about how easy it is for stupid girls to get killed by criminals.

It feels like a lot of people have taken advantage of her, and Saul's the only one who's ever apologized.

She doesn't know if it's true, but she does know that she told Saul she'd help him with anything, and that maybe he knew there's no way she could say no to that, not with who she is, the symbol she wears.

Did he know what she told Babs, that she was alone and that Saul was someone steady and smart, who she felt she could rely on when everything else seemed so fragile?

Does it matter?]

It's okay. [Her tone is gentle, and she very carefully reaches out to touch the back of his hand, light, cautious, but she has to do something.] I'm glad you're not alone.

[With this.

Even if took advantage of her to get her to help, she's glad that she could.]

I'm glad, too.

[What makes him more glad is knowing that Stephanie's the one by his side in this. For now, anyway. Saul hasn't forgotten that she hasn't said anything about forgiveness yet, and part of him knows she might not be able to let that go — but right now they're out here, and the truth's been told, and things seem okay.

He takes her hand again, squeezing it briefly before letting go and stuffing his hands in his pockets.]

You should head back. I bet Ellie's looking for you.

[It's jarring, that mention of Ellie, but she knows that it's true, and she knows everything that Saul isn't saying, or can't say.]

Yeah.

[But before that, she just needs to do something in response to everything that Saul's said tonight. So she steps forward, bringing a hand to curl against the side of his throat, thumb against his cheek as she goes up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his brow. It's more platonic than anything, but she hopes it's something.

And then she's letting go, moving away and stepping back.]

I'll see you later, Saul.

[The smile she gives him is sad, but at least it's there, and then she turns and starts back towards the party.]

[It's something, that's for sure. If he were smarter, he'd resist — just let it happen and then pull away and let her go, but instead he sighs and leans into it, moving just quickly enough to bump noses with her before she pulls away completely.

He kind of looks like he's been slapped again. He nods, though, swallowing his response: See you later, Steph.

She almost makes it back around the corner, but watching her walk away strikes him with a panic that registers all over and this suddenly feels an awful lot like what happened in the stairwell, when they came to mutual agreement that this is it and Saul took it as a now-or-never situation.

For about a minute, there, he was happy with his decision to tell her. He felt okay.

And now he doesn't.

He sprints after her to catch up. She'll hear him coming, he's sure, and maybe this will backfire and she'll freak out and hit him, but if she doesn't...

She'll find herself wrapped in his arms, her back to his chest, his head tilted down with his mouth pressed against her shoulder. It might seem threatening, if not for all the sniffling he's doing.]

[Of course she hears him, but at first she hopes that maybe he just wants to walk back with her, that they're going to pretend they haven't been out here spilling all sorts of secrets.

She even starts to turn to look at him, just to make sure, but then there are arms around her and all she can do is close her eyes as her shoulders drop, almost defeated. And that's really what this is, there's no winning, here, there's no solution where everyone can be happy. She has to keep hurting Saul or she has to hurt Ellie, and both ways hurt her.

There's nothing she can do about it.]

God, Saul.

[It sounds a little pained, sad and lost, as she brings her arms up to rest over his, where they're wrapped around her. As she leans back against him.]

[She should've pulled away. He was hoping she would, because then he'd have at least taken the hint and gone home.

But no, now he's standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, in the cold, wet air, with Stephanie in his arms and a plan forming in his liquor-laden brain that involves literally never letting her go.

He mumbles something unintelligible against the fabric of her blazer. It's probably another apology, but there's no way to tell. Then again, maybe the way he's squeezing her says it all.]

[For a little while, she doesn't do anything at all, just keeps breathing and letting Saul hold her while she tries to think of some way to fix any of this. But there's no solution to be picked out of the air, only this decision that she has to make over and over again, whether to stay or walk away.]

Saul.

[Gentler, now, but there's a request in it, an unspoken let me go, as she gently tries to ease his arms away from her.]

[Saul shuts his eyes when she says his name and nods, almost imperceptibly. He knows. He needs to let her go back to the party and to Ellie. And he will.

But first he kisses her cheek, lingering a little longer than he probably should. This isn't making it any easier for either of them, but —

But what? But nothing. He has no excuse other than his own lovesick selfishness.

Abruptly, he drops his arms to his sides and mumbles a faint "bye" against her skin. Then he pulls back completely, steps away, and turns to walk... wherever it is he's going. The apartments and the Hold are the other way.]

[It's not fair, him doing that, nevermind that probably wasn't fair for her to kiss his brow in the first place. She doesn't have any room to talk, so all he does is try to take some comfort in the affection before he inevitably pulls away.

She should head back inside right now, but she can hear which direction he's walking and knows that there's nothing there.]

Where are you going?

[She hasn't turned to look at him, but she can't just let him walk off. What if something happens?]

[He stops, but he doesn't turn back around.]

For a walk.

[Goddamnit, Saul.]

Are you gonna be okay?

[With everything they've just said, or maybe she just means him walking alone in the dark.]

[OPEN] Tonight is the night, we’ll fight 'til it’s over

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