beingdifferent | Sixteenth little lie ♰ Hush now baby, don't you cry; your reward's in the sweet by-and-by

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Sixteenth little lie ♰ Hush now baby, don't you cry; your reward's in the sweet by-and-by

What happened?! [There's a sudden sound of something glass or porcelain shattering against the floor or wall, the sound of books hitting the floor, a music-box flipping open and playing a few notes of "Fur Elise" before the sound of wood cracking and metal gears crushing.]

Tell me!

[Esther loosens an agonized sound somewhere between a growl and a cry. This is followed immediately by the dull pound of her fist against the wall.] Who stopped it?!

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Not that one!

There's one of you still there, aye. But the one that's stuck 'ere had to come back 'ere. No one did that. It's 'ow this boat works.

Tell me exactly what you preferred about that other one.

[What she preferred? That draws angry, mocking laughter out of her, punctuated with the sound of wood splitting.]

Everything.

Esther, don't histrionic at me. Short of license to murder everyone, I'm trying to see what we can give you that you 'ad there. Do you want to 'elp with that or just throw a tantrum?

You can't help with that!

[Esther had everything there. Authority, respect, the assurance that she wasn't - wouldn't always be - a freak. Instead of pathetic, she could be beautiful there in a strange way. And there was hope there; maybe not for anyone else, but for her.

The Mirror Barge could've helped her; this one couldn't. This one is false promises and lack of options, and more than that lack of understanding.]

So in actual fact, you just wanted to throw a tantrum.

You'll never know who can 'elp with what if you only wail at us we don't understand and never 'ave a shot at explaining. I only read minds in emergencies or with permission, lady, and I can't do it over the comms anyway.

You've shown no understanding of me. Why should I accept your help? You wouldn't even care if not for Rorschach.

And 'ere you've done such a sterling job of making yourself likeable, too! I'm shocked, I really am.

You're dead right. I'll just give way to all the other people lining up to try and 'elp, shall I?

I don't care if you like me and I don't want your help. Are you too blind to realize that?

Just too stubborn to care, petal. Now are you going to talk sense to me or carry on yowling and stamping your feet?

Don't speak to me again.

...Look, it's in the nature of a family obligation to see you right.

I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I don't adore you uncritically for your own sake, but you're not going to get that till you meet someone 'alfway.

Doesn't 'ave to be me. It won't be me as soon's you get paired again, if you still want me backed off then. But you need someone in your corner and I'm it.

Now. Do you just want to 'ave a good cry because this isn't cloudcuckooland, or do you want to 'ave a go at making your actual life a bit closer to what you want?

You aren't my family.

[Nothing will convince Esther of this. Family is not the people who claim her unknowingly, like the Barge does and like so many adoptive parents have tried to. Family is...

Something else. Family is what she had when she was a little girl.]

There isn't a way to make my life what I want! Not here!

Rorschach is, and that makes you my responsibility till you're explicitly someone else's. And I'm not promising it'll stop there, either. I always 'ave liked you, Esther. I'm just not going to pamper you when you're acting like this.

'Ow do you know there isn't?

He's not even here. He doesn't matter. [Esther scoffs.] You just said you didn't like me.

Because no one gives anything to inmates.

I said I weren't going to uncritically adore you. That's not the same thing. And 'e will never, ever not matter, 'ere or not.

That's bullshite and you know it. If you'd rather use it as an excuse not to think about what you actually want, that's fine, lovey. But don't expect me to pretend along with you.

No, I know what I want. I know exactly what I want, and all I'm told is not to want it.

And I didn't promise it, either. What I said is that I'll 'elp pick it apart and try and 'elp you get as much of it as I can.

That much, I can promise.

You want to get me back home so I can have a second chance.

But there's nothing I can do with a second chance. I don't want one. My life isn't one I want to live over again.

[Esther is crying, now. It's soft, and she's steadying her voice as much as she can to keep Iris from realizing. She doesn't want to bare herself that much, and certainly not to Iris - who just can't understand how charmed her life is and how very not Esther's is. Especially in comparison.]

Stop telling me what I want. That's not 'ow it works. Your second chance is to start over anywhere in the universe. Including 'ere, if the mood takes you; but you've got all of space and time to choose from, Esther. There's nothing you can't do with that.

I can't do what I want with that.

[She is very aware that she can't. This Barge is completely untrustworthy and she'll never ally herself with it; and regardless of where she might go, she doesn't want to go anywhere like this.]

Right. You're the expert on the entire rest of the universe, on the past and future and everything you can do and get there. I forgot.

Oh wait.

You're ashamed to tell me. Perhaps because you know it's stupid or nasty? Or you're not willing 'cause you feel entitled to milk a lot more drama out of it first.

Or you want to keep believing it's impossible 'cause that gives you an 'andy excuse to never make any effort to change. Which is it?

And you know exactly what I want, don't you.

I'm not telling you because you'll simply say how senseless it is for me not to see it your way.

'Course I do, I'm playing twenty questions for fun.

Stop. Telling me what you think I think. Because you don't know. Just as I don't know what you want.

What's senseless is you not telling me and then blaming me for 'ow you imagine I'll react.

Of course you are.

I'm not telling you because you're a blind, insensitive, useless old bitch who won't stop harassing a mentally ill woman who has repeatedly told you to leave her alone. I'm not telling you because you assume you know my own life better than I do, and how I should relate to this prison. I'm not telling you because you think you deserve to know. I'm not telling you because you're a bully who is perfectly willing to tell me how stupid I am for being upset over losing the only chance I'll ever have to be happy.

If you speak to me again, I'll murder your lovers.

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Sixteenth little lie ♰ Hush now baby, don't you cry; your reward's in the sweet by-and-by

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cw: suicide