relief, that was the feeling that washed over mccree when he finished talking. it was an odd feeling, one he hadn’t felt in a long while, but it was also one he didn’t know he needed. when he finally worked up the courage to look at the other girl, there was no judgement held in her gaze. there was no disgust or fear. instead there was understanding, as though mccree’s suspicions were right and she knew exactly what he meant by his words.
what was that saying? ah, yes…misery loves company.
the only reply that he gave her for the soft teasing name was a snort of humor, other than that, mccree kept his mouth shut. emmy had given him the time to say what was on his chest, to listen, and that was the least he could do for her. a pang rang through his chest as she began to speak, and even though mccree never really had parents, he knew what it felt like to lose someone that he would have called a father at one point….expect, mccree had been the one that gave up and left, not the other way around. it’s almost worrisome the way emmy’s body deflates, and for a moment mccree regrets asking her altogether. he could only hope that she felt the same relief that he did, speaking about it–but it was never easy reopening old wounds. that was something that he was still learning.
“as much as i want to agree with you, i don’t think a government is going to do anythin’ for us. the government didn’t do anythin’ for us. we take things into our own hands and survive…we just, do it in a way other’s can survive too.” a breath left his chest, somber for a moment before he replaced that shit eating grin back onto his face. “well, i’ll be…i’d say we’re friends now, right? i mean, we shared our sad stories. ain’t no going back from there. still wanna shoot me?”
mccree had managed to break down barriers that melrose had taken four years and several breakdowns to reach. maybe that meant she was making progress with accepting her fate, maybe not. it still hurts the same, but she doesn’t cry anymore. if he was to ask about quinn, her first love, that may have changed, but there’s no use bringing her up now. emmy can’t even remember her voice anymore, and there’s no proof of her existence left. it’ll only drive her crazy.
it’s funny how quickly they both snap themselves out of the sappy conversation that was happening seconds ago. her arms once again fold into eachother, acting as a small shield against her heart, but she can’t help the small smile on her face, ❝ we’re not friends, asshole. i’m just not gonna’ kill you. ❞ she makes the small jump from the bench to the crumbled floor beneath them, taking small steps towards the door. if she didn’t get back, eve would probably send a search party. emmy is always on time, that’s a promise she always makes. she’s almost out when she turns back, a small smirk on her face, ❝ give me ONE granola bar, to remember you by. ❞
