It doesn't make sense, not any at all. Why would there be an exact replica of their building? He stares at it, leaning down until his head is level with the boarded-up apartment. There's no other reason for this to be here- it has to either be them, or it has to do with Walter. Probably both. He continues to stare, mouth open, as he takes in the sheer detail of the model, from the brick facings to the gravel on top of the roof. "I....I don't know
( ... )
The article about their return in October is miniscule in impact next to the rest, almost all dated to that day in March. 'Four Dead in Copycat Attack, One Missing.' Her Mom picked a crappy picture of her to give them. 'Ashfield Man Wanted for Questioning.' Jerks, she bristles uncharitably, even knowing full well that he'd indeed looked more suspicious than victimized that next day. Their two apartment doors, side by side, propped open, both with yellow crime scene tape draped across barring easy entry, a cop ducking under the ribbon on Henry's door, oblivious to real horror of what had gone on in that room just hours before. But she notices that the most recent photograph of Henry they'd been able to get their hands on was dated years before the attack. It makes her want to cry so hard, she genuinely contemplates yanking some of them off the wall
( ... )
Henry spent more time watching Eileen than he did reading the articles. After the first glance, recognizing what this room was trying to tell them, he didn't need the details. However, she ate up every detail, needing to know it all. He watched quietly as she, once again, did her best to hold herself together, even while she threatened to shake apart. It was something she was very good at, and he wished with all his might that she didn't have to be.
"It's us," Henry says eventually. He wishes he didn't have to, but he had to point it out. "It's because we...we did something we weren't supposed to. We destroyed him." Technically, it was the BPRD that did that, but Henry sure as hell helped. He steps forward to Eileen and tries not to think about what all of this means for them, what it means they did. Instead, he steps forward and brushes Eileen's hair back, letting a hand rest on her shoulder. He needs to feel that contact just as much as she does. "We destroyed his world...didn't we?" That's what was supposed to
Eyes that squeezed shut against the betrayal of tears as she tilted her face towards his hand fly open as the implications strike her. She holds up a hand, as though that would be enough to ward this off. "W-wait, you're saying... killing him killed them? Breaking his ritual and, and breaking his world and we...." Shaking her head as though dazed, she wanders woozily away from his comfort as the world starts shrinking in the periphery of her vision, eyes darting back over all the material on the wall again as she feels something blinding swelling. "N-no, because, Henry said it was okay, he said, I said I felt like I was supposed to be, and he said no, he said, it was wrong a-and we weren't supposed to die. I-I can't...!" All her efforts at tamping down on those sobs of a moment to go are shot to hell now, her hands clasped to her head as though this is all a big headache or all a big psychotic episode that she could just block out. "W-we've been happy, and... Oh God, I, I can't..." Everything sounds so loud now, all the
( ... )
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"It's us," Henry says eventually. He wishes he didn't have to, but he had to point it out. "It's because we...we did something we weren't supposed to. We destroyed him." Technically, it was the BPRD that did that, but Henry sure as hell helped. He steps forward to Eileen and tries not to think about what all of this means for them, what it means they did. Instead, he steps forward and brushes Eileen's hair back, letting a hand rest on her shoulder. He needs to feel that contact just as much as she does. "We destroyed his world...didn't we?" That's what was supposed to
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