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Saturday Thoughts

Emil says I have to write when I'm upset. Blech.

I could have done without a lot of today.

I met the newbies, and they seemed pretty good, actually. Nice, willing to work, aware that they're not here for good. Ok, so yes, I am astounded that the IAB can be human. Catch me asking why someone goes rat-squad again? Not on your life.
Caro is back. So is Bobby it seems, and don't think I don't feel guilty about both of those in my own separate ways. I should have been more alert to Bobby, picked up on the signals, not pushed him where I did. I'm not him, I don't get him, in some ways, and I didn't hear him asking for help, so instead, I just hurt.
But Caro...where to start? The last 48 hours have been awful with her - I feel helpless faced with that. I don't know what to do with her, what to do for her. Jackie and I tried to hold the fort, but it wasn't until Jack and Emil showed up that I thought she was safe. I feel like I'm only holding her together as she crumbles, and that other people are building her back up. I'm not a doctor, I'm not her lover, and I'm only her friend, or as much as she'll let herself have friends. She told me how many mistakes I've made, but I only saw one big one - I stopped looking at her, stopped really listening, only seeing what she chose to show me or say on the surface. I learned to hear her for a little bit, and somehow, I lost that. I hope Jack doesn't make the same mistakes.


And then the outing - he was a regular perp, actually, a domestic disturbance skel in a nicer-than-normal package. If he'd stuck to the "right" ones, who knows how long he'd have been able to keep it up? His bad luck, he picked Millie. Someone who'd break away, who'd still be able to deal with the idea that this was wrong - someone who knew how to get help, and who wasn't able to keep that voice inside of her quiet, the voice that wanted him stopped, that knew he needed to pay.
After that, it was just a matter of his own stupidity. He bought all of that, ordered it himself; I was just the delivery boy. I don't feel good about it - I did it by the book. When he opened his mouth, I wanted her there, to make him beg for her forgiveness. Anything I dished out wasn't enough. In his heart, he knows why, but goddamn, I wanted to rub his nose in it. I won't, because there's no way I'm standing in the way of his fall. I want to hear him hit bottom.



The stupidest thing I did was get mad. I shouldn't give a damn what anybody else thinks. I don't. I keep saying "They don't know how it is," trying to remind myself of that. I know how much she cares, and she knows me. That's all that matters, right?
What do I care if some people think she's made a mistake? As long as she doesn't, that's nothing.
What do I care if some people look at our baby, and only see her, and pretend I've nothing to do with her? Or worse, if they think my child is something awful because she's mine? As long as Millie doesn't, that's what matters.

I believe that. I do. I do, despite the flare of anger each and every time. I try not to care.

So why do I care? Why? I'm not a monster. I don't control Millie. Sometimes, I'm afraid I'll turn into my father - I wouldn't lift a hand to her if she came at me with a knife, I can't make demands worth a damn no matter how I feel. The only time I made any kind of demand, it was because of Isa...that counts for something more than he ever did for me, right? Right?


Millie's asleep, and I think she feels really, truly safe, which is all I wanted. If I can make her see that she did most of it, then I'm glad. She thinks it's mostly me, but it needed both of us, it seems. I told her she saves me in a hundred different ways, small ones, every morning, every night; if we can beleive each other, then all will be well.