[ She knows that she's probably never going to get him to accept the idea that he's not responsible for what happens at a point in time that isn't his own. Claire hasn't yet accepted that it isn't her fault that Nathan died, that if she had just been stronger or smarter, Sylar never would have gotten her ability, he would never have become immortal, he would have died when she stabbed him in the head. Going down that path is a dangerous turn for anyone, and having a constant reminder who's afraid of you and afraid of what he's been dropped into, here, staring you in the face at every turn, only makes it more difficult.
There's no perfect thing to say or question to ask, and Claire knows that, because sometimes things are just crap. All you can do is pick up what you can and try to hold it together as much as possible. Sometimes maybe it's like trying to keep sand in a sieve or water in the palm of your hand, but that doesn't matter. You've still got to try. Her job, in this scenario, is just to stand below with a bucket.
For a long time, Claire lets their heads stay inclined toward each other, before she turns and drops hers so that she can tuck her forehead in against his neck. She stays where she is, understanding where and when she's needed. It's an added bonus that she doesn't want to move away, besides. ]
Do you think he could be bribed with brownies? I hear that's had some success in the past.
[ Her voice is muffled by his shirt, and she's not smiling, but she hopes that she at least imparts a little of the idea that even though most things are terrible all the time, not everything has to be. It's safe to be okay, here, with her, even if everything is coming unraveled. Claire has to learn that, too, but this isn't about her.
Absently, like she's just remembered that she needs to do it, Claire stretches to press a kiss to the point of his jaw. Somehow, he still smells like stew. It's better than smelling her morning breath. ]
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There's no perfect thing to say or question to ask, and Claire knows that, because sometimes things are just crap. All you can do is pick up what you can and try to hold it together as much as possible. Sometimes maybe it's like trying to keep sand in a sieve or water in the palm of your hand, but that doesn't matter. You've still got to try. Her job, in this scenario, is just to stand below with a bucket.
For a long time, Claire lets their heads stay inclined toward each other, before she turns and drops hers so that she can tuck her forehead in against his neck. She stays where she is, understanding where and when she's needed. It's an added bonus that she doesn't want to move away, besides. ]
Do you think he could be bribed with brownies? I hear that's had some success in the past.
[ Her voice is muffled by his shirt, and she's not smiling, but she hopes that she at least imparts a little of the idea that even though most things are terrible all the time, not everything has to be. It's safe to be okay, here, with her, even if everything is coming unraveled. Claire has to learn that, too, but this isn't about her.
Absently, like she's just remembered that she needs to do it, Claire stretches to press a kiss to the point of his jaw. Somehow, he still smells like stew. It's better than smelling her morning breath. ]