callada | [ITN] IC Inbox

[There's a pang of sadness that he keeps locked up. Had his mother done anything like that? His memories of her are so fragmented, so small. He knows she loved him. The specifics have faded with time. More than anything he remembers her beautiful dresses and soft fabrics he was always clinging to like some kind of security blanket against the terrors of the world, until they swallowed her up and he had nothing left to hold onto.

But it seems Mary never even had that much to begin with. He reaches forward to place an overly large hand on her head and smooth down her hair, ruffled by the scarf.]

Sounds like you're on your way to it. We've just got one person, apparently, who doesn't agree. That person needs to apologize to you.

Apologize? Hee hee, it's okay!

[She's beaming beneath the affection from Rosi's big hand.]

Because I was playing, too!

[Something about that does not... seem right. Somehow.]

Playing shouldn't involve people getting hurt, though. You know that, right?

[She doesn't answer right away. The far-away look on her face is not the look of a child that understands what should surely be a simple fact. Nobody has ever taught her these things.]

We all hide such pretty color on the inside. Did you know?

[That takes him a second, but only because it's so unexpected. She does love red.

He really should have seen this coming. It's about par for the course with the kids he's dealt with. But those had all been drawn to his brother, who encouraged it. Rosinante just frowns.]

That color is blood, Mary. That's what keeps people alive. If you see that, it means you're hurting them a lot and that's not all right.

[Given what he's seen of her life before this place, it makes some actual sense that she might not understand this, but given those other children, he's not entirely optimistic that this is simply ignorance.]

[That's what keeps people alive. Mary looks at her hands. She turns them over like she's examining them, trying to understand something. Her odd, happy expression turns sad, the manic light fading from her eyes.]

Sometimes...I just feel so strange.

Like what? Can you tell me about it?

[At least she has some sort of moderate restraint. She doesn't seem to want to hurt people, really. She's already better off than his own brother had been. Better off than Gladius, too old to be persuaded to change, and Dellinger, who could have learned better had he ever been given a chance to be something else. Rosinante sinks back down onto his side and rests his head in a hand, ready to listen.]

Like I'm really hungry, but not here.

[She puts her hands over her stomach, then they drift up higher, to her chest, where she squeezes the fabric of her chest.]

Up here. There's something missing and empty, and I want to fill it up and be full but I don't know how, and the only way I feel better is to think about those things that keep people alive. I want them. I want to have those things and when I can't have them I just feel like I'll go crazy.

Hurting them doesn't give you those things. It takes it away from other people. Makes them feel hollow and angry too.

[He knows that void. Figures everyone who was hurt or abandoned at that same age does. They all try to fill it with something. The problem is, when a kid that age has never been loved, they don't know that's what it is they're missing, so they try to fill it with the things they do know about. More fear, more anger, more hurt.

He's known this, he's seen it in her, but he's held back because his own heart still belongs to that little boy he left in a treasure chest. But maybe he can spare a little more just so Mary doesn't have to go down the same path the others did. He reaches out the hand resting at his side and scoops her closer against his chest.]

How's that?

[It takes Mary by surprise. She doesn't flinch or tense or draw away, allowing herself to be easily cradled against Rosinante's large body. She doesn't know what to say, at first. Not that she's never had a hug before, but this feels somehow different in the gesture. Mary rests her ear to his chest, and lets the steady beating of his heart fill her ears.]

It's warm.

[Warm. Warm and special and so important.]

There's music inside of you. It's like a little drum.

Yeah? I have never had anyone tell me that before.

[But it's cute. Music? Sure, he likes that. Let him fill her heart up with music, then. It's hard to know what to say, otherwise. Kindness is a two-way street, but she already tries to be good to people. She gives them flowers and drawings and laughter, and saying that being kind gets kindness in return is too simple. Not always the truth. Some people are dangerous and only know that void.]

I think it might be one of the things you're missing, but I don't know for sure. What do you think?

A drum?

[It likely isn't what he means, but she's trying her best to understand what he's attempting to explain her.]

I don't have anything like that, I don't think.

[He laughs a little, but yeah, he should've seen that coming. It just feels awkward to be more literal.]

No, I mean being closer to someone who wants good things for you. Being around people who want you to be safe and happy. Getting hugs. Things like that.

Oh...

[Mary goes quiet for a moment.]

That's new, too. I read about it in books, though.

[Poor thing. He's going to keep thinking that for a very long time, but poor, poor thing. It feels good to be able to care, though. To be able to show it. Not only that, but to be willing to try because if he's honest with himself, it wasn't just his mission that had gotten in the way. Maybe Law taught him something without him realizing it.]

When I was about your age, I felt really alone, too. Someone took me in, though, and it changed my life. I don't want kids your age to have to go through what I did. We all need someone who's there for us.

[He's still hesitant to even mention it, but his one regret is that even Law, who he loved so much, didn't get to know a lot of things about him. Some of that is absolutely for the best, but there were little things he could have shared and now he'll never get to.]

Things were really hard for you, Rosi?

[No wonder he's so nice, she thinks. He knows how scary things can be no matter how nice you are. She gets so mad when nothing's working out even when she tries so, so hard.]

Was that someone really nice? I hope they were nice.

Yeah.

[Things were hard. And he learned that very same lesson so quickly and so harshly. Being nice to other people does not mean they'll be nice in return. It's good to love others, but the love you receive in return is not necessarily a reflection of what you put out.

He strokes fingers lightly through her hair, and smiles a little.]

And he was. He gave me a safe place to live, and showed me I didn't have to be afraid anymore. I wish everyone could have someone like that. But I already know there are people here who can be that for you.

[People here, he says. Other people. And she wouldn't argue that fact. She's met so many kind and wonderful adults who she could imagine being her family. So many people who mean so many different things to her, already. She grows attached so fast. Too fast. Mary reaches up a small hand to curl it around one of his large fingers.]

Do you think you could teach me things, too?

I think I already am, aren't I?

[So that's a yes, but a cautious one. She's sweet, she's adorable, he wants to take care of her and help her grow into someone confident and kind, but he also wants to explore this place and take some risks that will not only keep them apart for periods of time, they're almost certain to be dangerous, and she's going to have to understand and accept that.]

I want you to have a lot of people who care about you, I'm just one of them, but I'm glad to be one.

[Finally, totally, Mary relaxes. Maybe she doesn't understand--of course she doesn't understand. People always leave, but it's not something that she can stop. Or it might not be something that anyone wants to make her go through in the first place. But what she does understand is that he's right here, and there are other people out there, too, so close. And she's been so happy, and she's felt less alone than she's ever felt in her whole life.]

I'm glad, too. Thank you for never being scared of me.

I couldn't be scared of you. You have a good heart. I believe in that.

[And he's in the fairly unique position of having spent a lot of time with some very frightening children. Mary is just one more, and he's determined to help her bring forth that goodness until it dominates whatever else is inside her that has grown out of fear and anger at the people in her past. Those people aren't here anymore. He doesn't discount their influence, but he believes she can grow past it.]

You know, if you're ever feeling overwhelmed or scared or alone, you can send me a message on that tablet. Even if I'm out helping other people, I can talk to you that way.

Really? It wouldn't bother you?

[Now she's excited!]

I'll send you pictures, too! Really pretty ones that can make you feel happy no matter where you are!

[He genuinely brightens at that, beaming a smile at her and her eagerness. So cute!]

Yeah! I'd love that. Send me pictures! I'd love to know what you're up to, or what you're drawing!

Okay! From now on...whenever something good happens, or maybe even something that makes me feel sad, I'll draw it and share it with you. And maybe that will make me less sad, because I turned the sadness into something pretty that we got to look at together!

[Thinking about it makes her practically kick her legs in excitement.]

Rosi, Rosi! Your pretty smile came back!

[His smile is pretty? He blushes faintly as he laughs at the compliment. That's not something he gets often, if ever, these days - and coming from her, it's so genuine.]

I guess it did, huh. And if there's ever anything that makes you sad, I can talk about it with you. Maybe we can figure it out together.

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