An Empty Burrow, Revisited || Roger & Jessica
Roger wasn’t certain for how long he had been staring at that picture, but by the time he had looked up, the clock mounted on the kitchen wall had fallen asleep. He glanced back down to it, it’s edges warm from years of handling, and slipped it into his pocket. The cookbook lay open on the kitchen table, it’s pages displaying a carrot cake stacked high with layers and drizzled generously with white icing.
Normally such a sight would send him into a frenzy, and he’d rush to the cabinets in a mad attempt to see if they had all the required ingredients. But today… he simply blinked lazily at the image. His eyes felt heavy, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. So, taking a deep breath, the rabbit pushed himself away from the table and hopped out of his chair. The book remained upright on the kitchen table as he walked from the room. The house was so quiet when Jessica wasn’t around — and he could see now why that was. Outside their window, the cheerful sun had begun its descent below the singing hills only a few blocks away. Suddenly, and without warning, the entire backdrop of the sky shifted. The sun plummeted down below the horizon, and the moon shot straight up into the now-darkened night sky. Toontown sunsets weren’t nearly as long as their L.A. counterpart, but the sight was nothing new; and within moment, the rabbit was beginning his slumped-over trek back towards their bedroom. His large feet dragged on the ground as he entered the room and looked upon the empty bed. Releasing a sigh, Roger entered the room and changed into his pajamas with a quick spin, then plunked himself into bed. He lay on his back, and his vision moved up to the ceiling, fingers furled together on his stomach and foot tapping away uneasily. A car passed outside, and he sat up momentarily, hoping it might have been Jessica, but no turn of the doorknob followed.. Reluctantly, he laid himself down once more, and tried to get to sleep — despite the fact that he was wide awake.
Twisting her ring on her hand, she smiled, though a little flatly, and moved inside as she wrapped her hands around her arms,
"That sounds-" Her voice faltered for a moment before finding itself as she lifted her head, "That sounds lovely.”
The sound of the door shutting behind her was almost a relief and she exhaled at the closing off of the world. This was what she needed— Somewhere distant, somewhere still safe and comfortable. Somewhere quiet to gather thoughts with someone who could sympathize, to who she could be honest—
Well, no. Not quite. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be honest with Roger- She was, wasn’t she? Nearly always? - But that she worried so. He shouldn’t have to face her failures and shortcomings, not like this. The bitter taste of a memory flooded her thoughts and her hands fell from her arms immediately, remembering Maroon, the will, the blackmail—
No. She’d been honest then. She’d done it for him. She hadn’t wanted too, but it was there, all the same. No wonder he left so often. He deserved so much better.
Sinking into the small home, Jessica moved past the tables piled with dust and trinkets, with calling cards and playing cards, tarot cards and letters of note, thrown aside. Her eyes lingered over a carefully written, smudged page, but the words were distant and she couldn’t focus; it wasn’t her place too, anyway. She moved into a chair with a soft thump, and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, raking one hand through her hair. She could hear the distant noises of clattering cups, and her eyes traced the room curiously. Shadow was usually here, but perhaps she wasn’t looking hard enough. It felt like an ongoing theme.
Facilier’s return caused her to look up with a faint, nervous smile as she reached forward to accept a cup. Her voice was listless as she tried for formality,
"It’s been a while…?" But that too trailed off, and she found herself putting the cup aside and digging the heels of her palms against her eyes, shoulders pulled forward as she managed to just barely utter, ”Goddamn,” And found her shoulders shaking, and hating herself all the more for being unable to stop it as all the exhaustion, nerves and worry flooded out.
Standing steady beside her, having not yet sat down, Facilier moved from her front to the side of the chair she had settled in, resting his hand on the back's wing. He stared down at her, worry continuing to wrestle about with uncertainty as to how to approach her burst of emotion. While he recognized how far their friendship extended, he often thought, after her visits, that he may have sometimes been too forward when stresses and laughter both coursed through those days and evenings.
His hand flexed on the stuffed and upholstered wing, tightening his grip upon it just as he tried to gain a hold on what he should do. Once, years ago, he would have jumped straight into the fray to discover what troubled her, just as she had done for him a great many times over. Now, however, those years had allowed him to realize that something had always been changing, and it hinted at a need for more delicate, if not altogether subtle, approach.
"Jess...," he started, voice strained with throat tightened in his attempt to understand how and what to do.
And then, as startled as he was by everything that had begun to transpire, it was entirely obvious what he should have done from the beginning. Just as he had done so many times in the past, and he suspected he would do many, many times more in the future, he knelt down beside where she sat and placed his fingertips on the edge of her elbow - just enough to have the contact there, but not enough to push the thought of a forceful attempt for confession or offered comfort.
"It'll be okay, Jess. I can't promise that, but, in some way or another, for now, it'll be okay. You're safe, here... from whatever it is that has caused you anguish. If you want, or need, to talk, we'll do so when you're ready."
Pressing just slightly more against her skin, he took to rubbing what he hoped were calming circles on her arm, if for no other reason to assuage his own discontented fear that he wasn't helping enough.
"For now, though, just breathe. Breathe, and take as long as you need. I'll be right here, exactly where I am, to listen or help - if that's what you need, when you're ready."
