𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

Graceland Too

TW: Vague description of self-harm scars, mentions of former suicide attempt, and very vague reference to self-destructive anger/thoughts

AEI: as usual, i hate this chapter!! however, i'll get over this in two-four business hours.

ANYWAY!!!

in a total state of panic atm bc this is (probably) the penultimate chapter, unless i write an epilogue, and I AM NOT READY TO LET MY BABIES GO. I CAN'T DO CHANGE. IM GOING TO HAVE TO STAND IN THE IKEA CROCKERY SECTION TO CALM MYSELF.

i love ikea.

ALSO WHILE I REMEMBER, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SEBASTIAN STAN!!

ANYHOW, ENJOY!!

James doesn't sleep that night. When Isabell drifts off – curled up tight and hugging his boots to her chest – he lifts her up onto the couch and watches her until the early-morning light comes in.

When she moves, her sleeves slip up. James pretends like he's not staring.

He'll never understand how she did that to herself. How she hurt so badly that she tried to tear herself open, tried to bleed all the pain out. In some grotesque sort of way, it's beautiful. Not the emotion behind it, but the marks it's left; silvery and ribbed across her wrists.

James will probably never know about the rest of it. Not for a long time, anyhow.

He will never see the ugly parts of it, deeper below her clothes where the scars turn vicious, and he will never understand why Natasha would only refer to it as annihilation. He will never see the war in Isabell's eyes, across her skin, traced along her ribs.

James never saw her at her most destructive because his absence was the cause.

And because she is Isabell, because he only knows how to love her, he will only ever see the fleeting beauty in her pain. In her rage.

He tries to hold it in place as the morning sun rises through the windows.

Eventually, James grows restless. Pressing a gentle kiss to Isabell's forehead, he forces himself to his feet, slips his boots out from her grip and tugs them on as he heads for the door.

He needs to clear his head.

He needs Sam.

The air is cold and sharp as James wanders down the harbour. Sam will be down in the boat where he usually is, and without Isabell teasing him constantly, James might finally be able to get into a proper conversation.

It's a lot easier to talk when he's not blushing like a teenager.

Eventually, he reaches the boat and listens for the tapping sounds inside; Sam's grunting and cursing as the heap of metal won't do what he wants. James smiles a little. He heads down the steps, into the darker parts, and eases into the small space.

Electric shocks explode like diamonds behind his eyes as he brushes past the man.

Sam glances at him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You good?"

"Just here to help." James smiles somewhat awkwardly. Sam looks vaguely surprised. He twists a screw in whatever he's working on and glances up.

"How's Isabell?"

"Asleep. It's good for her."

"Hmm." Sam smiles a little, tossing James a screwdriver and nodding for them to head back above ground. "Y'know, no matter what's going on, we always end up talking about Isabell. Everybody does."