Page 96 of He Who Sleeps

"I just can't... I can't..." He howled in rage and grief.

“I know. I know, baby, I know,” she said softly and kissed the top of his head. Her poor perfect Easton. He needed to grieve, needed to come to grips, because he wouldn’t survive, they wouldn’t survive without him.

"What am I supposed to do?" He wept, his whole body shuddering with the force of his grief.

“If I was a normal person I would say to forgive...to work through it... But I’m not normal, and neither are you, my love,” she said softly. “And I know whatever we do won’t fix things, won’t fix you, but whatever we do, we do it together. I won’t let you drown alone, Easton. I promise.”

"How am I supposed to tell a therapist any of this?" he said helplessly.

She saw his point. “I don’t know, love. None of this is normal...so maybe we don’t approach it like normal people.”

"I want to be better," he told her, pulling away finally, his face blotched and tear-stained. "For me. For you. The others. I thought I could fix this, but the more we learn, the worse it gets."

Taking his face in her hands, she looked him over. “Easton, I don’t know what do to make this better, aside from you guys killing every last one of them, and then maybe we...maybe we can work on it together, to heal you, to try to make things better.” She gave him a small smile. “It hurts me so much to see you struggling so bad, knowing it’s an enemy we can’t really face. I’m going to do everything I can, try everything, to ensure things get better.”

"You'd do that for me?" The look in his eyes was so lost. "Even when I can't...be with you like the others can?"

“I told you, Easton, there are plenty of ways to love someone...and it doesn’t have to be physical. Being with you is all I want, however you feel safe. I love you, Easton, it doesn’t hinge on anything but you being you.”

"How can you love someone as damaged as me?" he asked, completely bewildered.

“How can I not?” she asked softly. “And no, I don’t have a savior’s complex or anything like that. I don’t think I can change you or save you or fix you. I just want to be here for you, to love you because you deserve to be loved, Easton, and I very much want to be the person to do it.”

He broke down again, hiding his face behind his hands, hunching over as though everything in his core ached.

Everything inside her broke for the man in her arms, the need to avenge the child he was, the man he became, all because of the way others treated him. Whatever she would do, could do...an idea started to form. She wasn’t sure if it was even possible, but the idea rolled around her mind even more. Holding him, she let him cry.

"How's he doing?" Carter's voice came from the doorway behind her, speaking softly. "You need a hand?"

Knowing Easton had said Carter and he had been working on something, she nodded and put out her hand, so he came to the two of them. She didn’t speak, her arm around Easton’s middle, holding him tight.

"How are you doing there, brother?" Carter asked gently.

"Not great," Easton admitted. "I don't know how to process any of this."

"None of us do," Carter said. "I know I'm not the only one feeling like my whole life has been a lie. Or feeling this overwhelming rage for my parents. For all the families they've destroyed with this bullshit. All we can do is make them pay and then we have a lifetime together to try and put the pieces back together."

“And we will,” Petra said to them both. “I promise.”

"I'm sorry." Easton pulled away from them completely and tried to dry his face. "I'm ruining the weekend. We should go back to the others."

"No rush," Carter said softly. "Take your time."

"You guys go on ahead." He was closed off now, turning away. "I'll be fine. I'll come through in a few minutes."

She sighed. “Okay...” She let Carter pull her to her feet, giving him his dignity. “But if you need...” she left it hanging. “The only way any of us can help is if you let us. I love you.” She smiled at him and felt Carter squeeze her hand.

"I know. I love you, too. I just don't want to go back in there looking like a half-cooked tomato." He glanced back at them. "I'm fine. I just need to calm down."

She smiled back at him. It was a victory in her eyes. “I expect a cuddle when you come back,” she offered and they walked out and down the hall, Carter holding her hand still.

"Don't ask for more than he can give," Carter said quietly, pausing her in the hallway. "He was okay to be touched just now because his distress overrode his fear, but making 'expectations' of him when he's still trying to get out of his own head might be counterproductive. You have to wait for him to come to you."

“I know. And I also know that Easton needs direction from me. He told me if I want something, to tell him. I would never punish him for anything... We have an understanding, him and I. And I would never ever expect something he wasn’t willing to give.”

"Then consider your words," Carter said to her. "You just told him you expect a cuddle. Not that you want one, or you'd like one. That you expect one. Words have power. This is a long road to recovery for him, and it needs to be handled with care. Expectations are..." He sighed, looking tired. "You know, that's not my story to tell. But Stephan had many expectations of Easton and none of them were pretty. You should encourage him to open up to you about it."

“Understood.” She nodded.

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