[Oh no. He's seen her. There's no going back now, and when Vanya catches his eye she freezes for a second before nodding and shuffling for the door. Should she have waved? What if he didn't see the nod, did he think she ignored him? She presses her nails into her palms as a distraction, trying to breathe through the frustration of having to fight her own brain.]
Sorry I'm late.
[She says it reflexively, though she has no concept of how late she actually is. If she were twenty minutes early and he was twenty-five minutes early, she'd still apologize for keeping him waiting.]
Um - yeah, might as well. [She takes half a step toward the counter, waiting to make sure it was a suggestion he intends to follow up on. Was it like this before? This level of thinking and rethinking and overthinking feels so much sharper here, and she can't decide if it's some universal change that no one else has mentioned because they handle it so much better, or if she really should be on some kind of medication.
But that idea is literally nauseating, now, so she stuffs her hands into her pockets as she joins the line at the counter.]
Did you, um. [She is terrible at making small talk, but it seems preferable to silence - at least until she starts.] Did you find the cafe okay?
[ When she agrees to getting drinks first, Derek nods toward the counter and moves with her toward the line.
Looking down at her when she asks if he found the place okay, Derek smirks a little. It's kind of endearing how...awkward she is. He's not used to that — most of the women he'd been surrounded by unwittingly and with whom he'd surrounded himself intentionally back home had been incredibly confident and comfortable in their own skin — but it's kind of cute. ]
Yeah, well, you sent the GPS so it just kind of led me here. That was convenient, so thanks for that.
[ Derek notes that the line is short and that's a good thing, because he'd really rather just sit and talk than be standing and trying to small talk to fill in the blank spaces. It's easier to just get into normal conversation when there isn't an inherent feeling of short-term nature. A line suggests slow, constant movement and then when one gets through it, they move on. What's the point in starting any meaningful conversation while standing in line? ]
What do you recommend?
[ He gestures with one hand weakly toward the menu. ]
[She is, quite frankly, relieved the pin worked: there isn't a lot of technology that Vanya knows well enough to use. Hell, she still has...had an old rotary phone in her apartment back home. So she smiles, inching up the line as it moves and more or less of the same mind as him - lines are only good for small talk, except she has no idea what kind of real conversation they'll have here, which makes her antsy.]
Oh - no, I've only been here once. But their coffee is good, and Jane seemed to like the tea...and they've got some good, like, cakes if you want--
[She cuts herself off as the cashier calls for the next in line, stepping up to play her order - coffee and cream and a piece of lemon poppy bread. Which is exactly what she had the last time she was here, because adventurous she is not.]
[ Derek nods a little, taking in what Vanya is offering up and his eyes move to the menu again when the cashier starts to take her order. He could eat. Derek can always eat with metabolism like his, actually. So when he gets up to the counter next, Derek orders a hibiscus tea and a sandwich. Then, he steps to the side to wait with Vanya so that the next person can put in their order. ]
I hope it's fine that I'm going to eat something. I'm hungry. I'm kind of always hungry, honestly. I metabolize food really fast...
[ Once they get their orders, Derek leads the way back to the still-empty table he'd been occupying before. ]
Thanks for coming out. Next time, I can come to you.
[Vanya nods a little while they wait, abruptly unable to remember if he mentioned being a werewolf in public on his post or if he said it after they'd filtered their conversation. She doesn't want to say anything with other people milling about, so once they have items in hand and make it to their table, she lowers her voice to ask.]
Is that because of, um, your power?
[This is much easier to talk about than the idea of having someone actually willing to visit her. Someone she didn't grow up with, that is: Diego and Allison are still the only ones to have come to her apartment.]
[She considers, for a moment, how different things might have been if she - maybe even if the others - had been werewolves instead of weirdos born to mothers who hadn't been pregnant when the day started. But that's probably a dumb thing to linger on: who can imagine an anxious werewolf?
She shrugs at the question, turning her mug between both hands and staring at it rather than him.]
I don't know. [Yes, she has thought about it a lot and come to absolutely zero useful conclusions.]
I mean...I guess music would be the easy thing but that's - that's also part of the problem. [Her mouth runs dry as she says it, and she takes the excuse to drink.]
[ Right, because sound is her thing. Derek pauses to consider that. His problem was keeping his bloodlust under control and he did that by connecting with his angry human side. Why can't she do something in that same vein? Using music as the focus to keep the sound manipulation at bay? ]
Can I ask you something? How does it work, exactly? Your power? What happens to you? What happens to the sound you're using?
[It comes out harder than she means it, and Vanya immediately looks apologetic, shaking her head.]
I just - it's - I've had this my whole life, and I only found out about it a few days before I was brought here. The only times I've used it, I destroyed a house, I hurt people, I--
[She can see Pogo, impaled on the wall of the den library she grew up in. Her hands are so tight around her coffee that her knuckles are white.]
I just - hear something, and then that's all I hear. It's the only thing. And it's like something else wants to take over.
[ He winces a little, not because she's hurt his feelings by being harsh, but because he's clearly poked a bear. One hand waves off the apologetic look and he keeps his eyes on her, wanting to let her know that she can keep talking, because he's definitely still listening.
Seeing the tenseness creeping into her, noting it in the way she's gripping the mug in front of her, Derek reaches a hand out to touch her arm. He doesn't linger, it's just enough to distract her with a tactile sensation before he moves his hand to his own mug.
His voice is low in the hopes of not being overheard. ]
I've killed people with mine. On purpose. We all fuck up, Vanya.
[ Then his voice goes back to its normal volume. ]
So...has that happened with music, yet, or just sounds? I'm sorry if I'm pushing buttons. I'm just trying to make sure I've got clear what you're experiencing so that I can see if I can help you channel it like I do.
[Her eyes shift from her mug to his hand when he touches her, and it serves as the distraction he means it to, pulling her away from memories that she is trying very hard to forget. They won't go quietly, though, and that touch reminds her of another coffee shop, another man. She really loved Leonard, before she knew what he was, what he wanted her to do, and it's hard not to think about the good moments, even now that she knows.]
I think my fuck up ended the world.
[She practically whispers it - with as much talk as she's heard of apocalypses here and on other worlds, that's nothing she wants overheard. Part of her hopes Derek doesn't hear it, either.]
It was - at a concert. My concert.
[She picks at the bread she bought, appetite gone entirely. But she needs something to do with her hands, so she crumbles it, slowly.]
[Yes. The obvious answer is yes, and Vanya doesn't know how to actually admit that out loud, so she waits to answer all his questions at once. None of it's clear, none of it makes sense, and she feels a spike of anger at her dad - for hiding it from her, for dying, for telling her nothing. He could have at least left her his fucking journal, rather than getting it stolen by some psycho who tried to get her to kill her family.
She lets go of her mug, afraid she'll tip it, and sits on her hands instead.]
It felt like - like I didn't have to worry anymore. Like consequences didn't matter.
[For the first time in her life, she didn't have to second guess, or triple guess. Things just were, and if she wanted to do something, she did it.
Vanya shakes her head slowly, then stops and shrugs, hunching down a little more to do it since she's trapped her hands.]
Once I felt that, it was all just - easy. I didn't have to concentrate. It was just a - a part of me.
[ Derek observes her quietly. It's hard not to with the way she's fidgeting. He can smell the anxiety coming off her in waves and he feels really bad about being the reason for it at the moment, but he can't help her if he doesn't know enough to try. This is a conversation he'd really rather be having somewhere private, but even Derek knows that he can't just ask a woman to come to his private residence or invite himself to hers when he towers over her, outweighs her by at least a hundred pounds, and is all but a stranger to her. This will have to do.
The more she talks, the more it sounds familiar. When he gives in to the wolf, all that matters is what's right in front of him and instincts take over where a human mind would normally be inhibited. ]
It's harder when you like how it feels. It's harder when it feels liberating to give in.
[ The statement is spoken as though it comes from experience because it does. ]
Have you ever lost control because you felt really happy?
[ If it's tied to her emotions, that means she can channel the good ones just as easily as she can channel the negative ones, once she gets the hang of it, so maybe practice should come from a positive place. Derek personally could think of a few things to pull from if he were in her shoes, but he doesn't know what her childhood was like. He doesn't know a whole lot about her at all, so he can't really guide that. All he can do is ask. ]
[This is more than she's admitted in her out loud voice to almost anyone: sometimes it's just easier to talk to a stranger. When he sounds like he knows exactly what she means, Vanya finally chances a glance up at him, monumentally unsure - of herself, and him. She wants, badly and often, for the kind of real connection that people who grew up with close family or best friends have. Never having experienced that, though, she doesn't even know how to go about explaining how her hopes elevate whenever someone shows any interest in what she says or thinks or does.
That was part of why she let Leonard in. She thought he saw her, and now she wonders if Derek sees her. It puts her on edge even while she hopes he does.]
I don't think so. [She has no idea that she did anything beyond normal at her audition for first chair: it isn't always destructive, but that's the only aspect she knows.]
But it's only been - I don't know, I guess a couple months now. Before that, I couldn't use it at all.
[ He gives her a small smile, one which falls short of sympathetic eyes; understanding eyes. He never lost control when he was happy. He still to this day can't say that happiness ever drove him over the edge of anything. But for her...maybe it can. ]
What if we try to trigger it? Somewhere away from other people where it's just me and you and we try to trigger it with something you love. Music? You can't really do a whole lot of damage to me that I can't heal from in a few hours, so you wouldn't have to worry about that if anything happened to go wrong.
[ Leaning forward a little, Derek lowers his voice, a little bit more animated with the prospect of stumbling onto an idea as he'd been saying it. ]
What if we intentionally trigger it over and over with something that makes you happy so that you can practice controlling it when you're feeling positive emotions? Maybe that would help? Practice makes perfect and all?
[She thinks immediately of Leonard's cabin, and without moving much still seems to shrink. He wants her to practice. Use her powers, figure out how to use them, so he can use her--
Her chin has dropped, gaze vaguely between her coffee and her lap, but slowly she lifts her eyes to look at him from under her eye lashes. It's suspicious, slow and untrusting. What does he get out of helping her? What does he want?
A part of her thinks, who cares, and she knows that when she was thirteen, she'd have thought he was cute. When she was four, she didn't care about the damage her powers could do. A broken monocle flashes before her eyes, and she wishes there was a way to just turn off her guilt.
He's trying to help. But she still starts shaking her head.]
I don't - I--
[She stops abruptly, pressing her lips together. She's so sick of not being able to say what she wants. Why does she have to be afraid? Other people can just speak their mind. When she tries again, she only gets halfway there.]
[ Immediately, Derek can tell he's overstepped an invisible line in the sand that Vanya's either drawn for herself or for the people around her and he feels bad. It shows on his expression, apology etched into his features. ]
I'm not going to push. But if that's the only thing stopping you, believe me, Vanya...I'm not going to be afraid of you. I've been through enough that there's not a whole lot anybody could do that could scare me anymore.
[ Some defeat creeps into his voice but it has nothing to do with her. It's entirely about the fact that he's died, now. His whole family is gone, whether by choice or not. He found his sisters body torn literally in half in the woods behind their childhood home...and then he got blamed for it. He's fought werewolves, Oni, a nogitsune, and he tore a Berserker in half with his bare hands.
The only thing anybody can do to scare him, at this point, is make him fall in love again. That's terrifying. ]
But if you don't feel comfortable, then it's not going to do a whole lot of good anyway. It's kind of hard to find happy when you're having a panic attack, I think.
[ He gives her a small, lopsided grin that's meant to draw some levity back into the conversation, since it's been lacking ever since they sat down and he dove right into business. Maybe Vanya just wanted to get to know someone new. Maybe she's not actually interested in worrying about her powers right now and he's being obnoxious and pushy. That's no way to make a new friend. So Derek's willing to let it drop. ]
[If anyone let Vanya do only what she wanted, she'd never see people. She'd withdraw into her own space and never come out again, even when the loneliness became overwhelming. Not knowing what's best for herself is just...what she's good at.
So he doesn't push, and he's willing to let it drop, and all Vanya wants to do is run because he's nice, and he's trying to help, and every instinct tells her she should refuse - either because she'll be a burden to him, someone who clearly has plenty else going for him, or because he'll hurt her, one way or another.
She finally pulls her hands out from under her legs, wrapping them around her coffee again.]
I'm not. Comfortable, I mean, but it's not - the last time I tried to practice was at home, and it - it just. It went badly.
[It went so well at first, it was amazingly gratifying to have Leonard standing with her, to use her power and control it, even in a small burst, and to have him celebrate with her. But then he'd gone, and the panic had started to wrap its cold, gnarled hands around her throat, and then Allison--
No. She doesn't want to remember that.]
I'm sorry.
[She says it automatically, and only belatedly remembers she's supposed to think twice about that. It makes her stomach twist.]
[ Vanya surprises him a little when she uncurls slightly. He wonders why he cares so much and he tells himself that it's just because he's a nice guy, but it isn't. He isn't. He's never been a nice guy. It's not that he's afraid of what she can do because he doesn't know what she can do, not really. It's the way that she expressed that she thought people should fear her and the way it seemed like she didn't want them to that had caught his attention.
If anyone knows what it's like to hate the idea of being feared, it's Derek. ]
I'm guessing someone got hurt?
[ Every word that comes out of his mouth feels like he's pushing his luck, but if she's going to let him, he's going to keep trying to know her. Derek's picky about people. She reminds him too much of someone he lost a long time ago not to be, at least, a little endeared. He can't help it.
His eyebrows lift a little at her apology and the tiniest hint of a smile threatens to tug up a corner of his mouth with amusement. ]
You don't have to be sorry for feeling the way you feel.
[Because she never feels good about things. People reach out to help her - like Derek, now, and she can't help but feel suspicious of him. Her brothers try to mend the gap between them, and she can't put up with them for thirty minutes, or even ten before she needs to get out of there. She can't talk to them without being petty.
And she feels all of that, and feels guilty for feeling it. How do other people go through life without feeling like this?]
I...I hurt someone I care about. I thought I killed her.
[She doesn't say it was her sister, and she doesn't say that in the moment, she wanted to do worse than kill Allison, she wanted to ruin all the good things she had, to take them away the way it felt Allison was taking everything away from her. The guilt is on her face, even if the details are kept close to her chest.]
I'm just afraid. To try again. [And she doesn't just mean her powers, she means trusting someone again - but that is harder to put into words.]
Well, you don't. You're entitled to feel how you feel. That's how people work. If whoever you're talking to doesn't like it, that's on them. You can't change how you feel about stuff. My life would be a lot different if I could change how I feel about things.
[ A lot different. Better, probably, but he doesn't say so.
Derek winces a little when she verifies his suspicion, not because it scares him but because it aches to know exactly how she feels. Except...Derek did kill her. The circumstances don't matter when he starts thinking about it. All that matters is that if he hadn't fallen in love with Paige, she'd probably be alive today. If he hadn't fallen in love with Kate, his family would still be alive today. If he hadn't gone to bed with Jennifer, there'd be a handful of innocent people still alive today, including a close friend of Stiles.
If he hadn't... ]
I was afraid, too. For a long time, actually. You're entitled to that, too, Vanya. I'm not going to judge you for it.
[She listens, and then for a long moment she just stares at him, trying to put the pieces together in her head. He's got to want something, right? He can't just be this...nice. It takes a moment before she realizes she's staring, and ducks her head when she does.]
Sorry, you just - you remind me of someone.
[And her tone makes it hard to tell if that's good or bad, probably because she still can't come to an easy conclusion on her feelings about Leonard. She thinks she really did love him, and that combined with how easily she killed him just doesn't add up at all.]
He tried to - get me to practice, too. [Was she always going to word it like that? Probably not.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Sorry I'm late.
[She says it reflexively, though she has no concept of how late she actually is. If she were twenty minutes early and he was twenty-five minutes early, she'd still apologize for keeping him waiting.]
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[ He smiles a little and gestures for her to have a seat. ]
Unless you want to go get our drinks first?
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But that idea is literally nauseating, now, so she stuffs her hands into her pockets as she joins the line at the counter.]
Did you, um. [She is terrible at making small talk, but it seems preferable to silence - at least until she starts.] Did you find the cafe okay?
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Looking down at her when she asks if he found the place okay, Derek smirks a little. It's kind of endearing how...awkward she is. He's not used to that — most of the women he'd been surrounded by unwittingly and with whom he'd surrounded himself intentionally back home had been incredibly confident and comfortable in their own skin — but it's kind of cute. ]
Yeah, well, you sent the GPS so it just kind of led me here. That was convenient, so thanks for that.
[ Derek notes that the line is short and that's a good thing, because he'd really rather just sit and talk than be standing and trying to small talk to fill in the blank spaces. It's easier to just get into normal conversation when there isn't an inherent feeling of short-term nature. A line suggests slow, constant movement and then when one gets through it, they move on. What's the point in starting any meaningful conversation while standing in line? ]
What do you recommend?
[ He gestures with one hand weakly toward the menu. ]
What's good?
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Oh - no, I've only been here once. But their coffee is good, and Jane seemed to like the tea...and they've got some good, like, cakes if you want--
[She cuts herself off as the cashier calls for the next in line, stepping up to play her order - coffee and cream and a piece of lemon poppy bread. Which is exactly what she had the last time she was here, because adventurous she is not.]
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I hope it's fine that I'm going to eat something. I'm hungry. I'm kind of always hungry, honestly. I metabolize food really fast...
[ Once they get their orders, Derek leads the way back to the still-empty table he'd been occupying before. ]
Thanks for coming out. Next time, I can come to you.
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Is that because of, um, your power?
[This is much easier to talk about than the idea of having someone actually willing to visit her. Someone she didn't grow up with, that is: Diego and Allison are still the only ones to have come to her apartment.]
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Yeah, something like that. I think it has to do with the healing thing, but I don't know for sure.
[ He pauses for a second before picking up their previous conversation from a week or so ago. ]
Have you put any more thought into the anchor thing? What yours might be if we were to talk about it in my terminology?
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She shrugs at the question, turning her mug between both hands and staring at it rather than him.]
I don't know. [Yes, she has thought about it a lot and come to absolutely zero useful conclusions.]
I mean...I guess music would be the easy thing but that's - that's also part of the problem. [Her mouth runs dry as she says it, and she takes the excuse to drink.]
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Can I ask you something? How does it work, exactly? Your power? What happens to you? What happens to the sound you're using?
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[It comes out harder than she means it, and Vanya immediately looks apologetic, shaking her head.]
I just - it's - I've had this my whole life, and I only found out about it a few days before I was brought here. The only times I've used it, I destroyed a house, I hurt people, I--
[She can see Pogo, impaled on the wall of the den library she grew up in. Her hands are so tight around her coffee that her knuckles are white.]
I just - hear something, and then that's all I hear. It's the only thing. And it's like something else wants to take over.
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Seeing the tenseness creeping into her, noting it in the way she's gripping the mug in front of her, Derek reaches a hand out to touch her arm. He doesn't linger, it's just enough to distract her with a tactile sensation before he moves his hand to his own mug.
His voice is low in the hopes of not being overheard. ]
I've killed people with mine. On purpose. We all fuck up, Vanya.
[ Then his voice goes back to its normal volume. ]
So...has that happened with music, yet, or just sounds? I'm sorry if I'm pushing buttons. I'm just trying to make sure I've got clear what you're experiencing so that I can see if I can help you channel it like I do.
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I think my fuck up ended the world.
[She practically whispers it - with as much talk as she's heard of apocalypses here and on other worlds, that's nothing she wants overheard. Part of her hopes Derek doesn't hear it, either.]
It was - at a concert. My concert.
[She picks at the bread she bought, appetite gone entirely. But she needs something to do with her hands, so she crumbles it, slowly.]
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Did it feel good? In the moment, I mean? It obviously doesn't in retrospect, I can see that all over your face and body language.
[ Hearing that it happened at her concert does sort of complicate things, he'll give her that. But that doesn't necessarily mean all is lost. ]
So was the sound you could hear your music? Their music? The audience clapping? Something else?
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[Yes. The obvious answer is yes, and Vanya doesn't know how to actually admit that out loud, so she waits to answer all his questions at once. None of it's clear, none of it makes sense, and she feels a spike of anger at her dad - for hiding it from her, for dying, for telling her nothing. He could have at least left her his fucking journal, rather than getting it stolen by some psycho who tried to get her to kill her family.
She lets go of her mug, afraid she'll tip it, and sits on her hands instead.]
It felt like - like I didn't have to worry anymore. Like consequences didn't matter.
[For the first time in her life, she didn't have to second guess, or triple guess. Things just were, and if she wanted to do something, she did it.
Vanya shakes her head slowly, then stops and shrugs, hunching down a little more to do it since she's trapped her hands.]
Once I felt that, it was all just - easy. I didn't have to concentrate. It was just a - a part of me.
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The more she talks, the more it sounds familiar. When he gives in to the wolf, all that matters is what's right in front of him and instincts take over where a human mind would normally be inhibited. ]
It's harder when you like how it feels. It's harder when it feels liberating to give in.
[ The statement is spoken as though it comes from experience because it does. ]
Have you ever lost control because you felt really happy?
[ If it's tied to her emotions, that means she can channel the good ones just as easily as she can channel the negative ones, once she gets the hang of it, so maybe practice should come from a positive place. Derek personally could think of a few things to pull from if he were in her shoes, but he doesn't know what her childhood was like. He doesn't know a whole lot about her at all, so he can't really guide that. All he can do is ask. ]
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That was part of why she let Leonard in. She thought he saw her, and now she wonders if Derek sees her. It puts her on edge even while she hopes he does.]
I don't think so. [She has no idea that she did anything beyond normal at her audition for first chair: it isn't always destructive, but that's the only aspect she knows.]
But it's only been - I don't know, I guess a couple months now. Before that, I couldn't use it at all.
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What if we try to trigger it? Somewhere away from other people where it's just me and you and we try to trigger it with something you love. Music? You can't really do a whole lot of damage to me that I can't heal from in a few hours, so you wouldn't have to worry about that if anything happened to go wrong.
[ Leaning forward a little, Derek lowers his voice, a little bit more animated with the prospect of stumbling onto an idea as he'd been saying it. ]
What if we intentionally trigger it over and over with something that makes you happy so that you can practice controlling it when you're feeling positive emotions? Maybe that would help? Practice makes perfect and all?
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Her chin has dropped, gaze vaguely between her coffee and her lap, but slowly she lifts her eyes to look at him from under her eye lashes. It's suspicious, slow and untrusting. What does he get out of helping her? What does he want?
A part of her thinks, who cares, and she knows that when she was thirteen, she'd have thought he was cute. When she was four, she didn't care about the damage her powers could do. A broken monocle flashes before her eyes, and she wishes there was a way to just turn off her guilt.
He's trying to help. But she still starts shaking her head.]
I don't - I--
[She stops abruptly, pressing her lips together. She's so sick of not being able to say what she wants. Why does she have to be afraid? Other people can just speak their mind. When she tries again, she only gets halfway there.]
I don't want you to be afraid of me.
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I'm not going to push. But if that's the only thing stopping you, believe me, Vanya...I'm not going to be afraid of you. I've been through enough that there's not a whole lot anybody could do that could scare me anymore.
[ Some defeat creeps into his voice but it has nothing to do with her. It's entirely about the fact that he's died, now. His whole family is gone, whether by choice or not. He found his sisters body torn literally in half in the woods behind their childhood home...and then he got blamed for it. He's fought werewolves, Oni, a nogitsune, and he tore a Berserker in half with his bare hands.
The only thing anybody can do to scare him, at this point, is make him fall in love again. That's terrifying. ]
But if you don't feel comfortable, then it's not going to do a whole lot of good anyway. It's kind of hard to find happy when you're having a panic attack, I think.
[ He gives her a small, lopsided grin that's meant to draw some levity back into the conversation, since it's been lacking ever since they sat down and he dove right into business. Maybe Vanya just wanted to get to know someone new. Maybe she's not actually interested in worrying about her powers right now and he's being obnoxious and pushy. That's no way to make a new friend. So Derek's willing to let it drop. ]
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So he doesn't push, and he's willing to let it drop, and all Vanya wants to do is run because he's nice, and he's trying to help, and every instinct tells her she should refuse - either because she'll be a burden to him, someone who clearly has plenty else going for him, or because he'll hurt her, one way or another.
She finally pulls her hands out from under her legs, wrapping them around her coffee again.]
I'm not. Comfortable, I mean, but it's not - the last time I tried to practice was at home, and it - it just. It went badly.
[It went so well at first, it was amazingly gratifying to have Leonard standing with her, to use her power and control it, even in a small burst, and to have him celebrate with her. But then he'd gone, and the panic had started to wrap its cold, gnarled hands around her throat, and then Allison--
No. She doesn't want to remember that.]
I'm sorry.
[She says it automatically, and only belatedly remembers she's supposed to think twice about that. It makes her stomach twist.]
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If anyone knows what it's like to hate the idea of being feared, it's Derek. ]
I'm guessing someone got hurt?
[ Every word that comes out of his mouth feels like he's pushing his luck, but if she's going to let him, he's going to keep trying to know her. Derek's picky about people. She reminds him too much of someone he lost a long time ago not to be, at least, a little endeared. He can't help it.
His eyebrows lift a little at her apology and the tiniest hint of a smile threatens to tug up a corner of his mouth with amusement. ]
You don't have to be sorry for feeling the way you feel.
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[Because she never feels good about things. People reach out to help her - like Derek, now, and she can't help but feel suspicious of him. Her brothers try to mend the gap between them, and she can't put up with them for thirty minutes, or even ten before she needs to get out of there. She can't talk to them without being petty.
And she feels all of that, and feels guilty for feeling it. How do other people go through life without feeling like this?]
I...I hurt someone I care about. I thought I killed her.
[She doesn't say it was her sister, and she doesn't say that in the moment, she wanted to do worse than kill Allison, she wanted to ruin all the good things she had, to take them away the way it felt Allison was taking everything away from her. The guilt is on her face, even if the details are kept close to her chest.]
I'm just afraid. To try again. [And she doesn't just mean her powers, she means trusting someone again - but that is harder to put into words.]
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[ A lot different. Better, probably, but he doesn't say so.
Derek winces a little when she verifies his suspicion, not because it scares him but because it aches to know exactly how she feels. Except...Derek did kill her. The circumstances don't matter when he starts thinking about it. All that matters is that if he hadn't fallen in love with Paige, she'd probably be alive today. If he hadn't fallen in love with Kate, his family would still be alive today. If he hadn't gone to bed with Jennifer, there'd be a handful of innocent people still alive today, including a close friend of Stiles.
If he hadn't... ]
I was afraid, too. For a long time, actually. You're entitled to that, too, Vanya. I'm not going to judge you for it.
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Sorry, you just - you remind me of someone.
[And her tone makes it hard to tell if that's good or bad, probably because she still can't come to an easy conclusion on her feelings about Leonard. She thinks she really did love him, and that combined with how easily she killed him just doesn't add up at all.]
He tried to - get me to practice, too. [Was she always going to word it like that? Probably not.]
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