.ffsharrison:
Heaving out a sigh, Harrison returned Anna’s words with an arched eyebrow, tilting his head to the side to stare back at her in disbelief. When he’d sidled up beside her he’d been expecting some sort of retort about how he should leave, how she didn’t want to see his idiot face, or didn’t he have somebody else he could be annoying. He hadn’t expected for her own exclamation to come, a sure sign that there must have been something wrong for her to be so resigned to the point that she wasn’t even insulting him.
“Pfffttt, please. You’re always good company,” he smirked, gently shifting in his seat so as to bump her shoulder against his own. “Think I’d bother sticking around if you weren’t?”
Of course, the true extent to his words was no doubt lost on Anna. Everything that Harrison ever uttered towards the girl beside him was so consistently coated in teasing, merry tones, his words building a – seemingly – impenetrable wall between the side of him that he allowed Anna to see, and the side of him that he wasn’t sure she would ever want to get to know. For as long as he’d known the girl he’d wanted to bring a smile to her face, clinging onto the false, forced laughter that brightened her feature at family dinner’s. It was all for show, all for the benefit of their parents – or at least, on her part it was. Harrison hadn’t ever needed to be insincere, or to lie, because he’d never had to try to like the girl, nor enjoy her company, because it came almost as naturally to him as breathing.
A soft gasp broke free from Harrison’s lips, something harsh and aching tugging against his chest as he watched more tears spill down Anna’s face. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever seen her cry, not that he could recall. He so hopelessly wished that there was something he could do, some way that he could take away the pain of whatever was bothering her, even to put her at ease in some capacity, if only she’d let him.
“Nah, that can’t be true,” he shook his head, frowning in response to her words.
After the way that Anna had insisted that Harrison was bad at his job, he supposed he should be taking this as an equal opportunity to return the favour. He couldn’t, though, not knowing the severity of her work and the actions that usually lead to such an outcome. Anna’s job was far more important than his, and required a lot more focus and skill, and he knew that even if one tiny thing went wrong that there could be fatalities, her own father having been gut-wrenching proof of that fact alone. No matter how many jibes Anna flung towards him, he’d grown to take it all in his stride and never rise to it, wanting to give the girl any and all possible outlets for the pain that he knew was buried deep inside.
“That burn, there? It doesn’t mean you’re bad at your job, Anna. It’s… it’s a sign of your strength,” he told her, his tone sincere, never taking his eyes off of her. “It’s… You, all of you, you’re so brave, you know? And I see that, I feel that always within you, but now… Now you’ve got that mark so the rest of the world can see it too.”
Shrugging to himself, he averted his eyes, drumming a gentle rhythm into the bar before him, before stopping as he realised that that would probably irritate the girl beside him. His words had been truthful, and he wanted nothing more than for her to see just how admirable she was, but he doubted they’d have the desired effect. Most certainly not when he caught her final words, piercing through him like a knife.
Anna’s voice was quiet now, the quietest he’d ever known her to be – usually full of snarky comments and snide remarks that were always directed towards him – and he found himself at a certain loss for words himself. There was no way to reassure her, no way to undo the events of what had happened, he could only shake his head and inwardly curse whatever deity might be out there allowing such horrendous acts to even occur in the first place. People like Anna, and the people that she continually tried to help, didn’t deserve that sort of suffering. Nor her father.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice strained, barely even a whisper. It was useless telling her that he was sorry, no amount of apologies was going to bring back the people she’d lost. “It’s not your fault, Anna. Really, you can’t blame yourself.”
Tapping on the bar once more, he waved a quick hand so as to garner the attention of Jamie, the bartender on hand for the evening. With a brief nod towards Anna, he gave him a wry smile.
“The hard stuff for us, bud. I think we’ll need it,” he told him, receiving a knowing look in return as Jamie turned on his heels and gathered up two glasses. With a quick glance back at Anna, he gave her a gentle smile before adding, “Orange Juice, of course.”
“You don’t need to stick around,” Anna pointed out, inclining her head towards Harrison. “I’ve actually explicitly told you that I’d rather you didn’t.”
Her insult lacked its usual fervour which she put down to being exhausted and drained after her shift. ‘Shift’ seemed a poor word to describe what had happened, as she was positive that it differed from a retail shift or five-hour stint waiting tables. She didn’t return the shoulder bump, her arm muscles aching too much and she needed to save her strength for the two-yard walk back to the table with the crew’s beers.
A bitter look crossed Anna’s face when she heard Harrison’s quiet and probably involuntary gasp, immediately squeezing her eyes shut. Of course, that only made more tears spill down her cheeks and she while she had once been grumpy about the fact that she rarely got to wear make-up due to her job covering her face in soot instead of blusher, she was grateful that she currently wasn’t wearing any mascara.
At his next words, she managed to sober up enough to send a withering glare his way. She knew that Harrison only meant well, as everyone and their grandma thought that’s all the boy was capable of meaning, but she wasn’t in the mood to be placated tonight.
“A sign of my strength?” she ground out through gritted teeth. She knew that the rest of her team were brave, even Eddie who took his courage to levels of sheer idiocy. But Anna didn’t sport her injuries as trophies or as marks of bravery she didn’t possess, especially ones like the mark on her chin which was clearly a sign of failure and the complete opposite of strength.
“Do you get all your pep talks from fortune cookies?” she challenged him, her fingers twitching and itching to do something, her nerves tingling in each of the digits up until she grabbed a paper coaster and began shredding it to ribbons.
“Well then whose fault it is?” she snapped back, louder than she intended. That garnered the attention of a few other bar patrons and she blushed furiously, going back to picking apart the coaster as she let out a frustrated huff. “I didn’t get them out, it’s my fault. I had a job to do and I didn’t do it.”
As Harrison called on the bartender, Anna’s irritation rose once more because even though the rest of the team had chosen to drown their sorrows in cheap beer, the last thing she needed was Harrison trying to get her drunk. However, she stilled when he clarified just what he meant by the ‘hard stuff’ and she’d be lying if the corners of her mouth didn’t twitch upwards at that. But she quickly fashioned her features back into that same scowl, because she didn’t deserve to laugh or smile today, not when a woman out there was going to bed tonight mourning her husband and kids.
“It’s only funny ordering OJ like this if you ask for a screwdriver without the vodka,” Anna helpfully supplied, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug.
