multiversallogs | You've got your reasons

Entry tags:

You've got your reasons

Who: Steph & Kate
What: Confrontations! Sort of.
Where: Steph's place
When: After Kate's talk with Jason
Notes: At some point I'll go a day without posting something and you'll all think I've been kidnapped
Warnings: Talk about death/violence, possibly talk about PTSD, discussions of rape and attempted rape

Steph had been expecting the call from Kate ever since the night they went against the militia and Henry Jennings was killed. It had been obvious, as soon as Steph had said yes against Kate's no, that Kate wasn't pleased. Steph wouldn't be either, if she was against killing the way her friends were, but she's not and she couldn't let Henry Jennings potentially walk away. Helena's vote hadn't surprised her, and neither did Jason's, now that she knows who he is.

It makes her feel responsible, in a way, if she'd said no they would've been divided equally, but she knows that Jason would have done it anyway, regardless of what the rest of them said. At the end of the day, this hasn't bothered her nearly as much as actually killing the other militia agent had. Still. She knows that Kate is upset at her, or maybe she doesn't trust her anymore. Steph has tried to give her space, to let Kate come to her even though it had upset her to have to stay away from Kate, not knowing if things would be okay again.

It means she replies almost instantly to the message, telling Kate to come over whenever she wants. And then she just has to wait.

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For now, Kate doesn't say anything, not for lack of what to say, but how to say it. There's a long explanation behind her vote that night, why she's been acting the way she has since then, but starting that trail is hard because it means Kate has to go to a place she hasn't gone to in a long while. She's not sure how Steph will see her if she told her and that makes Kate, ever the brave one, a little scared.

"I spoke to Jason earlier," she starts, avoiding the couch for now in the interest of taking off her coat and hanging it on a chair. She leaves that statement to hang in the air, letting Steph assume how it ended for a little bit.

"How hard was it to resist punching him?" She covers her worry with an air of amusement, because Jason does make her a little nervous, but Kate doesn't need to know that. At least not now, depending on how the outcome of their conversation goes, she'll tell Kate more about Jason.

"A little easier than I expected it to be." Not that she didn't have a slight urge to, especially in the beginning of the conversation, but giving into random acts of violence is not who Kate is. "He said you could vouch for him. But my stance is still the same."

No killing. She will always be the same with that. Sorry Steph.

"I can't, not really." She won't lie to Kate, "He could be really fucking dangerous, but I'm willing to work with him for the time being. I'll be keeping a close eye on him."

After that she goes quiet for a moment, idly picking at the hem of her sleeve, "I killed someone." She won't look at Kate as she says it, but this has to be said, because it's different than voting to kill someone. This time Steph actually pulled the metaphorical trigger, "Two nights ago, a militia agent who was beating kids."

For another moment, Kate stands there, staring at the side of Steph's head, trying to figure out how to reply to that. Good job? Well, if kids are involved then killing is a-okay? Neither of those are going to pass Kate's lips ever.

Her next move isn't one made of words. It's made of actions as she walks swiftly towards the bathroom and closes the door behind her to think for a moment, uninterrupted.

She wasn't trying to justify her actions, just explain them. She looks up when Kate moves, and watches her walk to the bathroom without making any comment. There's no point trying to stop Kate, that'll only make things worse.

Instead, she curls up even more, her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them as she sips at the coffee Kate bought her and waits. She wonders if she should have tried to keep it secret, but knows, rationally, that it would've come out sooner or later and would've been worse then. Steph just hopes this doesn't ruin their friendship completely.

The time spent in the bathroom involves Kate staring at herself in the mirror. She can fake like she needed to use the toilet or wash her hands or something, but she just can't. She feels the needs to stare at herself, see why she's going around with people who have such big differences in morals than her, people who can do this two times, three times, a hundred, and yet she still likes them. Still feels the need to care for them. It doesn't make sense. These are the people she would railroad for committing crimes but she can't now.

But there's nothing she can find in her blue eyes that fits as an answer. Nothing in this small room of cold tile and grout. Kate opens the door without a hint of ceremony and walks towards the living room, leaning against the doorjamb, watching the ball of legs and arms that is her friend. With this sight Kate can't even judge her, not much anyway.

"Why?"

Steph puts the coffee down on the table, her hands don't feel steady enough to hold it, but she manages to look up at Kate as she answers.

"Because it was him or me," and that's true, she knows if she hadn't killed him, he would've killed her, "But I went there with the intention to kill him, and I won't lie about that."

She doubts that's really the answer Kate was looking for, though, so she expands on it, "There are no authorities to take them to, we don't have the resources to hold them ourselves, and it's unlikely that just beating them down will get them to stop." That's the crux of it, for Steph. The militia need to be stopped, and this seems to be the only wa they can do it.

Edited 2012-02-27 08:02 (UTC)

"Why didn't you call me to help?"

It's obvious why Steph didn't, but Kate needs to hear it from the horse's mouth. She needs to know how big this thing between them is, whether or not it will shatter their friendship into pieces. She doesn't want it to; some days it feels like Steph is the only friend she has in this place, the person she can call when the silence and the loneliness gets to be too much. But she can't go against her personal morals just to keep a friend. It's asking too much of her; it's probably asking too much of Steph as well.

"Because I didn't want you to get hurt, because I wanted to prove I could do it myself, and because I knew you'd try to stop me," Maybe the last reason outweighs the others, but it doesn't make them less true. She knows it's patronizing and pointless, but she wants to keep Kate away from this.

"It was stupid," she can recognize that, she'll own up to her mistakes, "I nearly died." It's hard to tell by looking at her, but it had been a close call and Steph knows that if her mystery rescuer hadn't turned up, she probably wouldn't have made it home.

Kate snorts a joyless laugh at that first reason. She's a big girl, she can handle herself and whether or not she gets hurt doing it is a choice she makes herself. Why everybody keeps trying to take Kate's autonomy is a mystery to her and it only serves to irritate her. But the rest of the list makes more than enough sense to her. She's done things to prove she could do it and did it anyway so no one could stop her. Captain America and Iron Man can attest to that.

As Kate pushes herself up from the doorway, it looks for a moment as if she's going to sit down next to Steph, but she walks past to stare out the window where faint snowflakes are falling outside. It's easier to admit things when you don't have to watch people's body language. "I was raped. My mother was murdered." The words come out cold, like there are no feelings behind them, but it's all an act. It helps Kate not break down into a heap of sobs on Steph's carpet, heart and soul still broken. It helps her believe that she's strong enough to never ever give into that recurring nightmare where she runs into her rapist and tortures him until he feels the pain she did. Or the urge that's there as well.

"I can't do what they did. I can't stoop to their level. I refuse to be like the man who took my mother away, the man who took my life away. Doing what they did, are capable of doing, makes me no better than them."

Steph can't say anything for a long moment, she just stares at Kate's back, her brow knitted into a deep frown. She suddenly hates the world more than she ever has before, because it's Kate and she shouldn't have to go through that, "I'm sorry." It's said softly, but with genuine emotion behind it, and with the slight wry awareness that comes with knowing sorry doesn't fix anything. It threatens to bring up her own past experiences, but she forces that down. Now isn't the time.

But at the next thing Kate says, Steph shakes her head, "I don't think it takes us down to their level. Why you do something makes a difference," she honestly believes that, she always has, "They make their choice as soon as they hurt innocent people, we're just the repercussions. But I'm not trying to convince you to kill someone, I understand if you don't want to. I just need you to be okay with me doing it."

Steph isn't like Jason, she won't stop fighting alongside Kate just because Kate won't kill someone. Maybe that's risky, but she trusts Kate and that's more important than any moral differences.

Edited 2012-02-27 08:59 (UTC)

It's a huge sign of how much Kate trusts Steph enough to admit what happened to her. The only other people who know are her therapist and Jessica. It's a secret Kate's held to her chest, partly out shame and some other feelings she hasn't quite figured out yet. Their friendship, their relationship, is on another level now, one that takes up more of Kate's life.

Steph saying sorry just brushes past Kate. Not that she's ignoring the emotion behind it, but no matter how many people say that word, it fixes nothing. It doesn't stop the nightmares, the shiver of fear every time Kate walks past that park, the fear of going into that park, the times she beat herself up over what she could have, should have done differently.

"Even if I'm not okay, I don't think it'll stop you," she replies as she turns back around, this time choosing to sit on the windowsill. Not when Steph has already did it a second time. Her eyes threaten to water up, though her voice is still and strong as ever. "I don't hate you for it. You're still my friend. I just can't be around when it happens or hear about it. It's stupid, but I want to remain ignorant on some things. Keep the bliss around."

Edited 2012-02-27 09:10 (UTC)

"No, it wouldn't," there are very few people who could say something that would make Steph stop, and neither Cass nor her mom are here. But she's so relieved to know Kate doesn't hate her for this, and the tension leaves her body. She won't smile, because there's still too much pain in the room for that.

"You won't have to know about it from now on." Steph had to tell her once, to let Kate now how far she was willing to go, but from here on Steph will keep it to herself whenever she kills someone, and she'll stay her hand if she's fighting with Kate around. She can give her that much.

After that she's silent for a moment, shifting her position on the couch so she's sitting properly, facing Kate, "Do you want to talk about it?" There's no doubt what it is, but Steph will give her the option to say no.

"What's there to talk about?" She sounds more on the verge of tears as her open hand flies up, the facade breaking into little pieces. "It happened. I was fourteen, on my way home from school and I made the stupid decision to take a shortcut through Central Park. Should have taken the subway or the sidewalk like other people, but I didn't. I didn't see him behind me. I never saw him. I smelled him and felt him, but I never saw him."

And if she ever walked past him afterwards, this is the only thing that saved that bastard from Kate's rage, the one she keeps deep down inside that no one knows exists. She's been angry for a long time, trying to channel it into martial arts and self defense, but every so often, in times like now, it likes to burn at the bottom of her stomach to remind her it's still there and always will be.

"It wasn't your fault," she says it firmly. This is something she believes more than anything, even though it took her a long time to learn.

"I can't--" Steph isn't sure whether she wants to tell Kate about her own experience, not because she doesn't trust Kate, but 'cause she worries it'll seem like she's trying to compare them, which she knows isn't true, "I was eleven. But I got away."

She chews on her bottom lip for a second, watching Kate for her reaction, before adding, "I just... I'm not trying to say I understand, because I don't, not completely, but..." A shrug, she isn't sure how to finish that.

Logically, Kate knows this. Her therapist told her this so many times and she has told herself so many times, but there are those days where the what ifs and the why nots come and the blame turns in on Kate.

Kate nods, understanding where Steph is going with this. It's not the Victim Olympics and she's not trying to say she had it worse than Kate; she's just trying to relate which is a lot more than other people have tried to do. There's a small voice in Kate's mind, the darker part, that says Steph was a lucky duck to get away. Kate shoves at her hair as if it'll push back the thought, that horrible thing where she's the one making comparisons.

"We're both so messed up. Why does anybody let us outside?" She's laughing through the tears because what else can she say? They both have so many issues for being so young; where's the carefree teenage years people talk so much about?

"Because we have every right to put our lives back together," she knows that's not entirely what Kate meant, but it's important that Steph say it.

"Do you want to come here?" Her arms are open, offering a hug if Kate accepts. She'll let Kate come to her, rather than going to her, because this leaves the choice completely in Kate's hands, and sometimes that's important.

She continues chuckling as she pulls her sleeve across her eyes. It's a little embarassing, crying like this in front of people. Sometimes Kate isn't as brave and bold as she appears to be. Inside there's a sad little girl, wanting the world to be unicorns and kittens and trying not to see it's anything else. But there's somebody here for her, somebody to let her know that even if the world is a dark place, there's a light in the form of a friend who has her arms open waiting for you.

It's only a few short steps between her and Steph and Kate gets rid of them without a word. It's not the full bosomed tight arms her mom would give her on a bad day, something she misses the most, but this hug is almost as good. There's love and care behind it and that's all that matters right now.

Steph sort of just tucks Kate against her, wrapping her up in a hug and resting her head against Kate's. She's glad she can do this, even she wishes there was more, that she could reach into Kate's past and take all this away.

"Whatever you need, I'm here," there's no hesitation as she says it, "If you want to talk about, or if you need a sparring partner, or anything else. I want to help."

There's really only so much Steph can actually do, and she knows that, but it won't stop her from doing everything she can. If she was in Kate's world, she'd track down the man who raped her and would snap his damn neck. But she can't, and it wouldn't help Kate to hear that.

No one can, short of Professor X wiping her memories, but even that is a little too much for Kate. She'll just deal with the hand she's got, keep her mother alive in her memories, and use her attack as motivation to keep doing what she's doing even when there are days Kate just wants to give up.

Snapping his neck won't make what happened go away, but hugs help dull the pain. Hugs and the knowledge that there is always somebody to lean on. It's more than Kate could ever ask for in this place. "Likewise," she says, voice muffled against Steph's chest, holding on a little tighter than she actually should. "Whenever you need me, even if it's three AM."

Steph doesn't mind being held tightly, she's used to people like Cass and Kara - who sometimes forgets her own strength. And anyway, this is just another thing Kate needs that Steph can deliver.

"I have a daughter," she cards her fingers through Kate's hair, a small smile tugging at her lips as she adds an explanation for that out-of-nowhere statement, "I don't wanna keep secrets from you."

It also might serve as a distraction, which may be a little underhanded, but she just wants to give Kate something to think about other than terrible memories.

Kate pulls back at that a little, the statement taking her by surprise. "Since when?" This is a stupid question. Since Steph gave birth, obviously, but what Kate really means to ask is how old Steph was? Does she miss her? What are the details on the kid? What does she do with her daughter when it's time to do night patrol?

The option that Steph doesn't have custody of her daughter doesn't even occur to her.

"I was fifteen when I got pregnant, sixteen when I had her," she'd loosen her own hold to let Kate pull back, and she shifts a bit to get more comfortable, but doesn't let go, "I've never seen her."

She'd been unconscious when they'd performed the c-section, and she hadn't wanted to see the baby. It'd taken her a long time to even ask Tim what sex the baby was. Her expression is sad, but a resigned sort of sad; she made her choice and she knows it was the right one for her.

It's a very good thing Kate didn't ask those questions. It would have made the moment so much sadder and even awkward. Kate can't imagine having a child so young and then having to give them away. Sure, it was probably Steph's choice or what was better for her, but it's something Kate can't wrap her head around.

"I'm sorry." She's saying it because there is nothing else she can say. Kate isn't going to judge Steph for what happened; it's stupid and not her place to. But she can worry about how much of an effect this has had on her friend and she can pull Steph back into her arms for another hug.

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