Cadogan Thomas | Jack of Diamonds (
diemwnt) wrote in
houseofcards_rp2013-11-29 06:40 pm
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[ota] join jack and the boys; be in a band
The world gets small. That's the worst part.
The period of probation is good, really. Being away from work, sitting in the solitude of house arrest, makes the loss of interest in the rest of the world less damaging. Lets him work his way around to a normal sleep schedule again; get through the sharper periods of nightmares and into the dull sort of sleep he lives with generally. Gives him time to work on the shakiness in his hands and the way he jumps at tiny noises, to refocus on what's immediately before him rather than letting his mind skitter everywhere.
But the world gets small. The world stays small even when, with a firm slap on the wrist, he's let back into his office. The future sits on the end of his desk, barely extending to the end of the week.
He barely notices he's gone out to the gardens. Barely realizes he's bummed an actual cigarette off one of the kitchen Threes and settled in for a proper smoke.
Fifteen months was a good run. And the world is so small. And yes, the smoke entering his lungs spikes the pain of each breath at first, but the nicotine hit--real, proper, after all these months--is more than worth it, in a world that surely isn't going to last more than through the rounding of the next few days.
He'll drop the cigarette if approached, of course. He'll even pretend it was on purpose, and not the shock of tension at the sudden sound of another human being.
The period of probation is good, really. Being away from work, sitting in the solitude of house arrest, makes the loss of interest in the rest of the world less damaging. Lets him work his way around to a normal sleep schedule again; get through the sharper periods of nightmares and into the dull sort of sleep he lives with generally. Gives him time to work on the shakiness in his hands and the way he jumps at tiny noises, to refocus on what's immediately before him rather than letting his mind skitter everywhere.
But the world gets small. The world stays small even when, with a firm slap on the wrist, he's let back into his office. The future sits on the end of his desk, barely extending to the end of the week.
He barely notices he's gone out to the gardens. Barely realizes he's bummed an actual cigarette off one of the kitchen Threes and settled in for a proper smoke.
Fifteen months was a good run. And the world is so small. And yes, the smoke entering his lungs spikes the pain of each breath at first, but the nicotine hit--real, proper, after all these months--is more than worth it, in a world that surely isn't going to last more than through the rounding of the next few days.
He'll drop the cigarette if approached, of course. He'll even pretend it was on purpose, and not the shock of tension at the sudden sound of another human being.
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His breath escapes a little ragged.
Why doesn't it ever get easier?
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"But I feel in this case, the fact that it's still something that's difficult to deal with is something that keeps you-- grounded in your humanity."
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The exhale was one more of bitterness than anything else, still.
That hardly seems fair.
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"But would it truly be much better if you felt no remorse about this at all?"
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It might be. I'm not so sure anymore.
The digging at his heart just kept getting deeper.
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Suppose there's no helping that.
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And her hand carefully finds a way to his shoulder.
"But you have people here who will help you through it."
Sophie and Adrien and his mother, surely. Her own offer to assist hangs in the air, unspoken but very real.
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It's a little difficult to understand why they want to be, but it's easier to believe is real with a hand on his shoulder.
Thank you.
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You don't know how much it means.
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Hopes, mostly that he'll take up the offer and not carry the burden of guilt quite so heavily.
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There's still a shudder in his breath as he ducks his head.
Try.
But not promise.
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And it's a start. There are many people who don't even try.
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Much more to do with the fact that this one had been such a good one.
That's not true.
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And there's a familiar arch to her brow at that.
"I feel that expecting much more than an attempt out of anyone, in this case, can place unnecessary pressure on them to work through what they will on their own time."
There's no need to push.
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Isn't that what it means to lead?
And he doesn't mean 'lead.' He means 'serve.
But she knows that.
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"It is, and you will need to-- put your feelings aside when serving in your capacity as a Jack. But in the personal moments you do have--" However brief they may be, "--There's no need for you to put up the front."
Not among those who are concerned for his well-being.
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His eyes flick over her features for a moment. His fingers tap listlessly at the phone for a moment.
When are moments personal?
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Something she should have done better about as Queen. Maybe then there wouldn't have been so much burnout.
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Takes practice?
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But then if it were easy, this wouldn't be an issue.
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But others will be there. Others will tell him it's not impossible. He knows that.
There's still a tiny sigh as he nods.