Better Off Lost

Who: Zania and Gavin
Where: Outside and Zania's Room
When: Evening

Gavin was standing in the "front yard" of the mansion, a cigarette tucked between his lips. It wasn't like the goddamn thing had a driveway or anything. He knew that Zania wasn't back yet, and it was just about tearing his guts to pieces. Horribly enough, most of that was guilt. After the time he'd spent with Janie ... god, he had no idea what he would do if she didn't come back at all. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but he'd already thrown up once or twice since the sun went down. Another dead girlfriend -- because she technically still was -- would not be a good thing for him. Or for her, for that matter. So he was outside, waiting for her. Hoping for her. And occasionally yelling her name at the four compass points of the house. Tossing his butt down and lighting up another, Gavin started to make another circuit. "Zania!" he yelled as hard as his hoarsening voice would allow.

"What?!" she screamed back, not recognizing his voice and in too poor a mood to be thrilled by the sight of the house. She was treading across the lawn slowly, a large stick in her hand, held like a baseball bat. A weapon. As the sun began to set, she'd decided she needed something to beat off the wolves if they came to find her. The worst part was when she could no longer see the compass in the dark and just had to trust she'd put herself on the right path. While she was glad she wouldn't be sleeping in the woods, she'd had far too much time to think. For one, she was ready to rip the balls off whatever scientist crossed her path. She didn't think she'd see one, but a guy in a lab coat would do. All she had to do was knock him over the head and go to work. Then there were the other thoughts, the things that she'd used to occupy her mind when she started to panic. These little things were only important if she made it back, but they got her there and that's what mattered.

He whirled around as he heard her call back to him, and literally booked toward the sound of her voice. He wasn't thinking very straight, he was just overwhelmingly relieved when her pale skin started showing through the gloom. If he had been, he might not've done what he did, but ... well, he wasn't. "Zan! Zan Zan oh fuck," he was panting. He saw that he was about to pummel right into her, so he dropped down into a baseball slide, covering himself in mud yet again. Then he was up a second later and pulling her in to cling to as he shoved the backpack off of her shoulders. She was okay, she was alive, she didn't have her guts hanging out all over the place and there was alertness in her eyes and she was back she made it holy shit --

The frantic worry with which Gavin ran towards her shocked her and Zania just stood there, watching. She could see him as he got close, as he slid in the mud, then as he rose again to help her with her pack. All of this was watched with an air of wonder. He'd been waiting for her. Chills spread over her body, along with a quiet sense of confusion. Every time she thought she understood the man, he went and did something completely different from what she expected. "Hey," she said simply. Quietly. Tiredly. Zania took a deep breath as her arms wrapped around him, sure she was getting him dirty. She was covered in filth, mud everywhere she didn't want it to be. Which was anywhere. "I'm back."

Gavin wouldn't have cared if she was covered in sewer water. The sense of absolute shaky relief was overwhelming. Other feelings and his own confusion be damned, he was fucking glad to see her in that moment. Through his whole being. She had just taken so long. He lifted her up off the ground, reminded himself that she had to breathe, and loosened his arms up some. He pulled back and stroked a hand over her dirty face, pushing red hair back. "Are you okay?" he demanded, pushing a kiss to her forehead. "You're not hurt, are you? Dave's back, I can take you down. You were lost, weren't you? God ... I wasn't sure if you were coming back ..."

"I'm okay," she said with an answering smile. It was nice to have someone waiting for her, that even realized she was missing. Maybe things weren't right with him, but at least he cared. There wasn't another person in the house who would even bat an eye, or so she thought. "I just didn't know how to read this fucking thing," she said, shaking the compass. "But I made it back. I had to beat some wolves to death though," she said, raising her stick. It wasn't the least bit true, but it made her feel better just to think it. Something needed to pay for her frustrations, even if it was invisible wolves. "Have you been back long?"

He laughed a little, in a relieved, spastic sort of way. "Hours," he answered, green eyes raking over every detail of her face. It was the most bizarre thing, he'd half been dreading her coming back. Until it took a hell of a lot longer than he thought it would. He realized they should be going back inside, she'd probably had enough of the great outdoors to last her for weeks, but he didn't want to let go of her yet. It was like being given something back. Even though he'd earned it in no way at all, and probably didn't deserve any of the good feelings associated with it ... so he did let her go. And slung her pack up on his shoulder and nodded toward the house. "C'mon, I know you want about ten showers. All of our shit's gone from our rooms, but there's still shampoo and stuff."

"My stuff's gone?" she asked, frowning a little. All those dolls, staring at her, and the one she'd kept was now gone too. Maybe she should have sucked it up and apologized. Maybe she should have taken one, but she couldn't stand the feeling of their eyes on her. They seemed so angry. Now she didn't even have Lykaios. Zania swallowed it back. She could build a new life. She'd done it before. "A shower would be good. I'm tired of all this mud," she said, brushing her hand over her arm. It came away covered, a thin layer of grime gone from her skin.

"I'm sure they'll give it back, you know how they are," he said, starting to walk with her back toward the comforting lights of the house. It was a prison, yes, but funny how it looked damn good when you were just finishing trekking through the woods. He half-reached for her hand as she fell into step beside him, then raised it to rub at the back of his neck. He shouldn't touch her too much, now that his adrenaline-fueled greeting was over. He really didn't ... just didn't deserve to.

"Yeah," she said, sighing heavily. Still, she'd wanted to come back and pull on a clean pair of pajamas and crawl into bed. She'd just have to do with the ones she'd been wearing the night before. That would be okay. As long as she had shampoo and soap, she was sure she could survive. Zania walked silently beside him as they headed towards the house, looking for something else to say. She'd spent a good portion of the day with him on her mind, yet none of that seemed a good idea to bring up. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

He knew she was probably exhausted. Hell, he was exhausted, and she'd been walking a hell of a lot longer than he had. So Gavin just accompanied her the rest of the way up the lawn and held the door for her when they climbed the porch steps. He had his own reasons to be quiet, so he didn't question her on her's. He matched her pace as they climbed the stairs, thumbs tucked into the straps on her pack. He wondered dimly what she'd brought from the recreation. He wouldn't have minded seeing her room.

"Where'd they put you?" she asked, placing one foot in front of the other as they climbed the stairs. At least they were only going to the second floor. Zania couldn't have climbed more than one flight at this point, and even this one was done at a snail's pace. Her legs were just so tired that it hurt, but she kept reminding herself that she was almost there. Only a few more paces. She could collapse once she was out of the public eye.

"Back at home. Or well ... the bedroom in my apartment. It was uncanny. But the light was wrong, and the neighbors were too quiet, so. It didn't worry me for long," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "You?" He looked over at her curiously, telling himself very strictly to not say anything. Not tonight, not after what she'd been through. It could wait. It would wait, because he just wasn't going to do it tonight.

A bedroom. A safe, comfortable place. Zania wondered what it would have been like to wake up like that, in a place that was achingly familiar. A place that she'd rather be. The toy shop had not been that for her, familiar as it as. It was cold. It always had been. "I woke up in the toy shop. I had a little pallet and I slept behind the counter. All my dolls were there, waiting..." It had been spooky, to say the least.

Gavin was looking at her, though he wasn't sure at all what he was reading on her face. So he just nodded and escorted her the rest of the way to her room. "If I'd known they were stealing shit while we were gone, I would've brought more of my clothes," he murmured as they got closer. He'd changed shirts, at least, but the one he had was now filthy again. So there was probably laundry that needed doing.

"Do you think our clothes were there? The ones out of our closets?" she asked. She hadn't even considered that. Her trunk, the one in which she kept all her possessions, had been in the mock-store. She hadn't thought to open it, remembering that those things were back at the house. If she'd lost everything because of her foolishness, she'd be far more distraught than she could handle. She had so few possessions to begin with. To lose the rest would be devastating. There was no way she could find that room again.

"Mine were," he told her with a nod. Everything had been there, it was really pretty fucking creepy, when one thought about it. Those bastards must've had an army of ninja slaves to scope out that kind of shit. Gavin glanced over at Zania again. She looked upset. "Like I said ... they always put things back," he said gently. "So I'm sure you didn't lose everything forever." He knew that all of his stuff could be replaced; her's couldn't.

"Okay," she said, hoping he was right. He was usually right about these sort of things. Zania turned the knob on her door, stepping inside and staring at the empty room. It was as it had been when she first arrived, minus her trunk. Nothing of her own seemed to be there. It was like walking into a hotel room, one where she was familiar with the layout, but had brought no bags with her. The only time she'd slept in a hotel was when she'd broken in one. Zania glanced at the window, remembering how she'd climbed in. "This is odd," she said, not sure what to do.

Gavin put the pack down near the dresser and stepped back, tucking his hands into his back pockets. They were gritty. Yeah, he really did need to wash his clothes. He didn't want to leave though ... even though she seemed really tired and ... everything. Yeah. God, this felt weirdly like the awkward beginning that they should've had, but didn't. "Yeah, probably only temporary." He needed to quit reiterating that. "Want anything? I could bring some food or ... something."

Zania nodded and started towards the bathroom, mentally hoping he wouldn't follow. She didn't want to tell him that she wanted to be alone. Since talking to Dorian, she'd been thinking more and more about what they were and what she wanted and... something didn't add up right. "Um," she said, turning as he asked his questions. "I don't know. Food would be good... if you don't mind." She was starving, actually, but she didn't want him to feel obligated. She'd done enough of that recently.

"Sure," he said, nodding. And oddly trying not to feel paranoid about the dull tone in her voice. She was just tired, like all of them. "Turkey sandwich? Pizza rolls? Anything in particular, or whatever I can grab?" He was backing up toward the door, wondering if he should purposefully take his time and give her some space. Or something. Fuck.

"Anything," she said with a forced smile. "I'm not picky." Not when it came to food anyways. When it came to guys, apparently she was much more difficult. "I'm going to shower. Just let yourself back in if I'm not out," she told him. This made it easy. After having bathed with him before, she wasn't sure what she would have said to tell him no now.

"Okay," he said. He lingered in the doorway for a second, looking at her, then turned and left. Maybe it was just him -- in fact, it probably was -- but something felt not-right. Not the same. But it was probably him. He closed her door behind him and headed back downstairs, intent on fixing up a good sandwich and some fruit or something maybe.

A shower was just what she needed, but it didn't solve all her problems. It washed away the mud and the grass stains, but nothing could rid her of the sinking feeling in her heart. This wasn't working. In fact, it was worse than before. She'd felt better about him when he'd been cheating on her. At least there'd been anger there. Now there was just... disappointment. Her eyes may have watered in the shower, but everything was dried away with a towel. Zania stepped out, dripping onto the tile. She wasn't sure what to do about this. Never had she guessed she'd feel so out of sorts when she'd gotten just what she asked for.

He'd already eaten, so he only had to deal with one set of food. Gavin came back up just as she was getting out of the shower, balancing everything on a tray and opening the door again. He set it down on the dresser and glanced toward the bathroom. He wasn't going to walk in on her, which felt odd. They were still ... together, and he'd never felt like he was invading her privacy more than just standing there in her mostly-empty room. Gavin scratched one eyebrow with his thumb and considered whether he should go or stay.

Zania walked out of the bathroom to find Gavin standing there, as she'd expected him to be. She was wrapped in a towel, but felt dangerously exposed. She knew she shouldn't, seeing as how he'd seen everything that was there, but she held her towel close and took a seat on the bed. "Thank you," she told him, biting her lip as she struggled to find something else to say. The awkward silence dragged on as Zania towel dried her hair with another towel. "So... is everyone else back okay?" she asked. She wasn't sure who she'd be asking about, but she still wondered.

"As far as I know," he answered, staying where he was. Which was standing and not on the bed with her. Yeah ... something was wrong. Beyond being tired. "I haven't heard word of any search parties or anything." He crossed his arms over his chest. Then uncrossed them again and set the food near her. Then stood there for another minute. "Do you want me to go?" he asked, voice quiet, his jaw set oddly.

If she was behaving oddly, she didn't notice, but she sure noticed that he was. It felt like he was a million miles away from her and staying there. When he set the food on the bed, she looked at it for a moment, then back at him, her stomach doing a little flip. Maybe eating wasn't a good idea. "I don't know," she said softly. "I don't really know what I want, but..." She didn't want to finish that sentence. She didn't want to because doing so would leave her all alone.

Today had been a day that was chock-full of hard questions and shit that he didn't want to face or answer or even remotely think about. So maybe it was that mindset that had him asking, "But what?" If she deferred, he'd leave it alone, but ... if she didn't ... he wanted to know. There was no way in hell she knew about his talk with Janie earlier, and ... did that mean he'd fucked up in some other way? Already? Earlier? Shit, he was bad at this. He'd warned her.

"It's not working," she whispered, eyes set down on the bed. This was something she'd never done, end a relationship herself. She'd never imagined how much she could hate herself for it. "Something's wrong. With us. It's not right." Zania couldn't put her finger on what though, even after talking to Dorian. She just knew. She knew that she felt safe in his arms, but was no longer comfortable telling him everything. Before, she might have gone into detail about the shop, why it bothered her, how she'd been waiting for the dolls to climb off the shelves and tear her to pieces with their little hands. Now it felt like telling him anything at all was an invasion of privacy. Who else might he tell? Would he tell her the same?

Gavin knew that, that was obvious. But hearing her say it made him feel ... very odd. So he just stood there for a minute or two, only moving to tuck his hands into his pockets. He was sorely tempted to just say 'okay' and walk out. Because honestly? At that moment? It pissed him off. He hadn't done anything, and this was what she wanted. And he'd just worried himself sick -- more than once -- that she wasn't back yet, and he was going to avoid breaking up with her tonight because she was tired and shit, and she was trying to beat him to the punch? What the bloody fuck? "Do you want to try to make it right?" he asked, voice a touch husky.

"Maybe," she said, curling tighter in on herself. Now she really wished she'd put on clothes. The towel, though big, didn't feel substantial enough. It was probably just a mental thing, considering her pajamas were composed of far less material. "I don't really know what's wrong," she said. This distressed her more than anything else. They were worse than before and she couldn't figure out why. "I feel like maybe... I asked too much. Or. I moved too fast. I don't know." I'm broken. And you can't fix me. "I don't want to lose you, but maybe... you're not mine to have?"

He bit back a sigh. That was crap. She wanted him, and that hadn't seemed to cross her mind ever before. "You're not happy 'cause I'm not thrilled to be your's and only your's," he stated. It wasn't a question. That was the only problem he could think of there being. "That I'm not comfortable with it not being enough just to want you and want to get to know you better and talk to you as equals and not have to worry that I'm violating something when I speak with another woman? That I'm not comfortable that it wasn't a mutual evolution of this ... relationship, but an ultimatum? 'You're strictly mine or I don't want shit to do with you'? Could that maybe be it?" He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "You're right. There's something wrong. I shouldn't have said yes, but I didn't want to lose you. But apparently I'm not enough."

Don't you fucking cry. Don't give him that, she told herself. It was a card she didn't want to play. The last thing she needed was pity when she was finally getting the truth from him. He'd lied to her. He'd agreed to something he didn't want and never would. Zania stared back at him, emotions passing through her eyes, though she didn't say a word. Pain, sorrow, regret, fear, hatred, and then... nothing. Her breathing evened out, where it had grown fast only moments before. The tension in her jaw loosened and her fingers relaxed where she'd been gripping the towel far too tightly. She was a doll, with pretty glass eyes and no heart inside. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have tricked you."

"Don't you do that to me," he said, voice low and angry. God, he felt so pissed. "Don't you fucking do that, Zania. I don't deserve that bullshit. I told you I'd fucking try, and I tried. I went with it, I put myself out there with you, for you, I've been open to you since day fucking one, don't you shut me out now!" He put himself in front of her, on his knees, so there wasn't much to look at but him. "It wasn't a trick, don't turn that around to take fucking guilt for it, you told me what you wanted, and I relented. It was my mistake, I should've known myself better. This is why I don't fucking do this, I've tried to tell you. I have tried, I haven't done anything wrong with you that I know of. I haven't done anything to you. It's just ... You had me more before we put fucking labels on it, but that wasn't good enough, was it? If you're gonna break up with me, don't bullshit around, tell me what you feel."

His voice sounded far away now, the sound of her breathing ringing loud in her ears. She didn't want to listen to him, as nothing he had to say could fix this. Nothing he could say would fix her, though he claimed to be just as broken. She didn't believe it. If he wasn't good at this, it was because she wasn't worth the effort. She could see her mistakes clearly, but she didn't know how to change them. "You haven't done anything wrong," she told him, looking down into his eyes. "You did just what I wanted. I just thought it would feel... better." Instead, she was miserable. Even without having him detail how much it bothered him, she'd been upset. Now that she knew he hated it, she wondered why he'd even considered it in the first place. "I wish it could be like it was," she said, remembering the sparks of happiness that had been there, all gone now.

That, more than anything else she'd said, made him livid. She didn't want him, because this was the package he came with. Foot-in-mouth, crass, careless sometimes, prone to fits of creative nihilism, and with a libido and a short fuse. No, that's not what Zania wanted. She wanted a knight in shining armor -- or Doc Martens -- to come and save her. To fix her and be perfect and patient and understanding, and he obviously hadn't been playing the part right. He didn't inspire violins and songbirds and rolling credits. He'd seen her weaknesses, what she'd allowed him to see, and he was fine with that, he was golden. But flip it around? Even shit he readily admitted to? And it shattered the illusion. He'd wrecked her fantasy, and now she wanted out. "Fuck you," he said, voice ragged. He pushed himself up to standing. "I wish it could be real." And he was headed for the door, needing to be anywhere but there.

She watched him head for the door, lip trembling as she tried to keep her mouth shut. She always said the wrong things, and she'd just gone and done it again. She wasn't even sure what it was that was so wrong, but him cursing at her brought out the anger, barely there beneath the surface. "It can't be real if you don't let me see you," she snapped. "You don't talk to me, Gavin. You used to. I used to get to hear your shit and now all I get is snuggling and cuddles and nothing deeper than a puddle of mud." Her hands had tightened again, balling into fists, but her eyes were bright instead of dead. "Do you think I can't handle it? When did you decide I wasn't worth all of you? When did you start editing yourself for me? You wouldn't have lied to me the night we met, but you were happy as pie to lie to me two days ago. Why? I'd rather have a tiny piece of you, the real you, than a facade, even if I'm sharing with the whole fucking house. Why is it the most real you've been all week is the moment when you're about to walk out the door?"

Gavin whirled on her, though he was aware he should probably still been walking out. "I didn't lie to you!" he yelled back. At least she was alive now, feeling things. He couldn't stand it when people cut themselves off from themselves. Hated it with a passion. The least they could do was own who they were. "I said I wanted to try and I would, and I did and I have. I started editing when you got all weird on me about Janie. Even before I ... I did what I did. Which I told you about, immediately. It has nothing to do with your worth, it has to do with me not wanting trouble with you. I don't wanna hurt you, Zania, so I man up to you when I fuck up. That's me, you got the real me and you weren't satisfied. So I dunno what the hell to tell you now." He let his arm drop, deflating only a little bit. "I don't think you want real, not really."

"You don't get to make that choice for me!" she screamed. "If I can't handle real, if I don't want you for who you are, then let me decide. You can't possibly enjoy having to tip-toe around me. And I'm sorry for bitching at you when you fooled around with Janie, but she hates me. The feeling is mutual. She is the one person in this house that makes me feel like pond scum. And no matter how much you say so, I can't help but worry about what she might say to you. Tell me I have no right to worry, Gavin." Zania shook her head, not knowing where to go from there. The whole thing bothered her. "You say you stopped talking to me when I got weird about Janie, so does that mean you had nothing to say to me that didn't involve her? Our ability to talk fucking disappeared. And with that gone? What do you keep me around for?" Her fire was dying now, the breath all gone out of her. "You don't need me," she said. "You barely even want me. You just don't want to be responsible for hurting me, so I thought I'd do it myself."

"What, because I've been quiet for a few days?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not on all the time, Zania. I have days when I think out loud to anybody who'll listen to me, I have days when I just want to get stoned and play video games. That's just ... that's just how I am. I'm distractable, that doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore. Jesus. See? See what I mean? You're making this choice, you're telling me that you don't want me because ... because I'm not acting right or not talking enough or something. Have you ever thought about asking me what's on my mind? No, I don't need you. I don't need anybody, I've built my life around not needing anybody, because it's safer there. It hasn't got a fucking thing to do with want." His fire was still raging, and he really, really wanted to break something. "You don't need me either. Which is a good goddamn thing, if you quit this easy." Nevermind that he'd been almost settled on ending it himself. That was for different reasons. Reasons he felt like she didn't have.

He was so right. It was safer, not needing anyone. She'd forgotten and now it stung because she did need him. She'd just never admit it aloud, not after what he'd said. "So if I didn't quit, would you have stayed with me?" she asked, confused and growing tired. It felt like he was fighting to stay with her and she was almost positive that wasn't the case. "I don't know what to do. I don't think you hear me. Or maybe I'm just too fucked up to make this work. I thought I was doing something that you'd be... happy with? I don't know. I don't know what to say anymore. Nothing I can say will be right." Zania laid back against the pillows and shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them back up to look at him. Here was a man she thought she could love, the same one she knew she could hate and who could just as easily hate her back. He had to hate her. Why else would he be torturing her like this?

God, she was ... infuriating, in that moment. Had she ever heard a word he'd said to her? Gavin thudded his forehead into the wall next to her door a couple of times, hands coming up roughly to rub his face. "You're not too fucked up to make it work," he said after a moment, voice low and dull. "You just don't sound like you even want to try. 'Oh this isn't what I expected, I quit.' And it's not about saying what's right, it's about being honest and open and you've stopped talking just as much as I have." He sighed and pushed off the wall, giving her a quick green glance before he turned toward the door again. "I can't do this anymore right now. Get some rest. Eat, you need it. If you want to talk to me, you know where I am." He pulled the door open and started out.

She couldn't stop him a second time. If he wanted to go that badly, she would let him. She only wished she'd not said anything at all. There had always been a hope that it was fixable, that they could do something to make things better, but from the moment she started in, it went the complete other direction. As the door shut, Zania slid off the bed, dropped her towel and pulled on her pajamas. The food looked as unappetizing as ever and her bed uninviting. She cast a glance around the room and left. There were better places to stay the night, places where she felt like she belonged. This was not one of them.