It wasn't his desire to hurt Raylan or twist the knife to manipulate him. Winona had done so much damage to Raylan and undoing those built-in defenses, and healing those scars would take time. He's more and more frustrated with both Winona and Tim for the damage he sees. Heaven forbid he ever see either of them again, he would rip them both a new asshole. Or, at the very least, Winona, Tim wouldn't really know what he'd done, he likely wouldn't remember his time on the Barge.
That would have to be one more thing they'd have to work on, the idea that Raylan is guarded because he assumes someone who loves him will only want to use his vulnerabilities to hurt him in some way. To build up black-mail, or whatever else. That toxic poison that Winona had put into him so deep in his veins that now he assumes it of everyone who loves him. Though he knows his father's abuse has some to do with it, there was a long, deep foundation built because of his Father, but Winona added a million blades and a thousand papercuts to an already painful trauma. Flint's slowly finding more, being allowed to see those hurts, but they run deep and it'll take time to break those poisonous quills from Raylan's skin. He's determined to find and heal every single one that he can. But he can't know about them without seeing it and putting together the pieces, or for Raylan to feel comfortable enough to admit it.
He kisses the other softly in return, feeling the warmth and press of those silent words. If Raylan had proposed to him he wouldn't have cared if there was a ring or not, they had their necklaces, and rings could come later. Those words are bouncing around behind his teeth and tongue. Perhaps it was too soon...
There's a nod of agreement and another gentle kiss, eye focused completely on Raylan. "Or get into a little fistfight, hm? As long as I know what to prepare for when you get back. I want to be here to give you whatever you'll need."
He just wants to be informed and present and prepared.
There were some very good, very practical reasons that Raylan was built the way he was. James was doing well in finding them and proving that Raylan could trust him with trying to navigate them. He couldn't help the way he was, but he was willing to try. Willing to evolve. James was worth that, and so much more.
Love was always worth it.
He nods again. "Okay. Can't promise that it won't be a text afterwards but.. I can let you know."
He takes a deep breath, eyes still on James's face.
"So we're okay? I want bein' with me a thing that makes you more okay, not more frustrated. And gettin' reamed by half the manifest is a lot. I don't want you thinkin' that I aim to pile on with them." He wanted their home to be the same kind of secure place that he himself needed.
James's hand has come to rest lightly at the side of Raylan's neck, to which he'll scoot in a little closer and wrap his arm around the Marshal's shoulders so he can pull him in and kiss his temple.
"We're okay." He squeezes his hand, which they can't seem to let go of one another.
"You're allowed to have different opinions, so if you are upset with anything I said I do want to know. I don't mean to make things more awkward or frustrating either. But I also want you to feel like you can be honest with me in all things."
Raylan lets himself be pulled in and lets himself take the comfort of it all that James was offering, without any hesitation or reservation. The deepest parts of him were already pointing an accusatory finger, crying weakness at him daring to take it. He focused harder on their entwined fingers and how much he believed what he was being told. His gut believed it.
"I'm not upset. Disagreein' with people I love is something I've been doin' for a long time." It didn't make him love them, or James, any less. "I don't agree with your purposal, by and large. But I understand where the root of the argument is comin' from. Where the issue lies. Because you're right. We get what, at least two or three killin's a month if not more? If not en mass? I also don't have a counter offer to put on the table next to my disagreement. So sayin' nothin' is generally the wiser choice... Especially to everyone else. I can't have them thinkin' that I'm not next to you. My conversations get exponentially harder when they start poking around to see if I'm on the side of that kinda punishment. To see if they can pass judgement on both of us at the same time, ammo for them to gain the high ground on us later."
He shakes his head a little. "Just a lotta attention I wasn't expecting to have to field."
Prior to this, he wasn't ready to hear Raylan's disagreement, but he was also expecting worse. And he was only expecting the worst because of how he'd expected better of the people that did reply. His post was a lot more chaotic and negative than he'd had expected it to be, more people responded to his anger than they did to his actual ideas.
Now he was ready to hear it and he casts his eyes down to their still interwoven hands.
"I never intended to bring so much attention down on you, but I also didn't realize you didn't talk to Kiryu, I thought for sure you would have..." He didn't realize how much it bothered Raylan, what happened to Roman.
"But I also hope they don't think you should be collaring and silencing me when I bark. Most of the people responding only focused on the punishment, to which I never said it had to be the only way, just that I don't think fitting, painful repercussions should be ignored. But I am also not a Warden." He sighs.
"My main point was that I think you all should be able to communicate and trust one another to have democracy about how to handle an inmate. I've heard enough of you struggling to find ways to punish powerful inmates and even if you pull in a third Warden to help it's a lot. And what about the victims if they're other inmates? we don't get a voice in any of it. Or the loved ones of the victims? We may not be able to sentence them but we want an opinion on how they should be punished.
I want to give everyone a voice, sometimes an Inmate is sentenced but the other Wardens don't agree with it, and I just think it'll be better and more efficient if we all have a say, we all get a vote, and it can be determined what to do. I know we can't all agree, but even if there are 10 votes Aye to 9 votes Nay, the Ayes still have it. It can work. It could work... they're all just too stubborn to see beyond certain points." He shakes his head.
"I just am not in a position where they'll listen to me or listen to reason."
"But some other points were brought up I've been thinking about. In reality, though my crew had a vote, it was the Quartermaster that ultimately spoke for them. Maybe we do need... not a leader, but a representative, someone with a voice. I would put it to the Inmates to vote of course. I suppose the Wardens could elect one of their own if they feel it necessary. But no one here should be "Captain" we all have our duties and we are all equal. But I can also see the merit of having someone as a Quartermaster, someone to delegate and speak for the rest when necessary." He shakes his head again.
"Perhaps this thought is too alien to everyone else though unless you are on a crew it's hard to understand that kind of brotherhood and bond you have with the man beside you or the kind of trust you have in your Quartermaster. It's like digging minerals together. There's nothing like it. Maybe there's just no way to help them all understand what I mean when I say we need to act as a crew."
Everyone had assumed that Raylan would do that. Do the right thing. Keep the arrow straight path. He should have. He knew better. People could point the finger in all this but he knew where the blame really belonged.
"There's a lotta emotional punishment instead. Tearing off a layer that's forced vulnerability. Stoppin' them from fighting by making them non-corporeal, making them wear tattoos when they lie, whatever a creative Warden might think up."
He squeezes their hands.
"My biggest response to it all is - This ain't a democracy. Period, the end. Kinda cuts the legs out of all of the rest of the points. You can wish it was a democracy, but it-" He lifts and drops one shoulder with a little shake of his head as he looked back over.
"It isn't. Our common bond is that we're all here in the first place. There's community to be found in that. Like the culling. You keep sayin' crew, but this isn't that kind of ship. More than a little abstract from that. Instead of crew, we should focus on community. But I got a feeling the problem you're talkin' about has been a problem forever in this place. It's hard to shift the winds in these particular sails, and I believe that you can. Just gotta blow in the right direction."
"I remember, being fitted with a supernatural deterrent from hurting anyone, but it was more an annoyance than any kind of way to learn my lesson." He feels the squeeze and holds firm, brow knitting softly as he lets Raylan speak, chewing on his words to try and choose them carefully.
"I never said it was any of those things, I was saying it should be, that we should work to make those things happen that it would improve upon our current system." He's tired, he's explained and repeated and said all these things so many times now he's exhausted.
"It doesn't matter. No one gives a good goddamn. There's no point in wasting any more of my breath and energy, they won't listen, and they won't care." He shakes his head.
"Community, Raylan, is the very thing that fucked me in the first place. I'm not about to let them all fuck me again in the name of what they think is right and wrong, enforcing unbalanced consequences."
"It doesn't matter, nothing matters, that much is clear. Everyone will keep doing whatever they want, whenever they want to."
My main point was that I think you all should be able to communicate and trust one another to have democracy about how to handle an inmate, James had said. And Raylan's point was that it couldn't be that, but trying to clear that air right now would only get him more behind, not more ahead in this conversation, so Raylan opted to stay silent on that point right now.
Raylan understood the point. He just didn't agree with it.
"Everyone will keep doin' what they want, but it still matters. It all matters. Nihilism doesn't serve you or anyone else here and it undercuts those Wardens that have tried, that continue to try." Himself included. "And community always matters in the end but. We don't have to keep goin' after this horse right now. Not when you've been dealin' with it all afternoon."
More headway might be made later when James had properly calmed down.
"No, it doesn't, nothing anyone has said makes me believe anything is going to change for the better and I certainly am not the one to do it. I am going to keep to what I know and how I plan to protect the people I care about. That's all I've heard in any of their answers, that I might as well say fuck it all and do whatever the fuck I want. Cause everyone else is going to carry on doing the same." He shakes his head.
"I don't have faith in community. When you grow up, seeing yourself othered and ostracized, forced outside of society, civilization and community your whole life because you're different and poor. Being afraid of being discovered for what you are and the consequences of who you love. Community looks like a whole host of bullshit that's only meant for certain people. I've never been one of them."
"No one's gonna be able to tell you somethin' that's for sure gonna change. There's nothin' they can say that will promise that because there is more people on this boat than us and them, and it's somethin' that takes time. It's a long game, makin' that kind of turn. And you were just arguing the faith of crew community, fear or not so I don't believe that. You wanna turn into those people? The ones rejectin' everyone who doesn't agree with them for the sake of it?"
His gut told him that he should abandon this whole conversation - go and get another drink or three, turn it all over as he stared at the bottom of another empty whiskey tumbler, but they'd just talked about communication and being more honest. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, and that didn't change that now was as good a time as ever to test that out.
"Only way to get this shit to turn in that direction is consistency and self demonstration. Be the change you wanna see in the world and shit." God he sounded like a Hallmark card.
"It's different--" He starts, softly speaking up before biting back on his words and letting Raylan speak. He closes his eye and turns his head, hands trembling and jaw clenching as he seems to physically chew on his tongue to stop him from talking.
"I can't, Raylan." He wants to escape, he wants to get up and walk away and get some air but that's not going to help anything. He wanted communication and it's not that he doesn't want to hear what Raylan has to say but he just...
"I don't want to be that man anymore. I don't have the energy. I don't want to break myself in a thousand pieces for people that don't give a shit and don't want to change. I'm not doing it. I can't do it. I'm not leading this charge. This was it. That fire's gone out." He desperately wants a drink.
"I just want our life. I want peace and simplicity. I don't want this fight. I don't care about this fucking Barge anymore. I just want to find some way to go home with you and forget all about this ridiculous place."
Raylan sighs out his nose, eyes dropping back into his lap as he gently squeezes his hand. He doesn't want this to be a fight, he doesn't want James feeling like Raylan is kicking at him. As much as the term 'safe space' set his teeth on edge, the idea of it was something that he fully endorsed for them. Now that James had shown him he could have it. He had his end of that bargain to keep.
No one was asking James to lead. Raylan was only asking that he keep trying to change minds. It wasn't going to happen tonight, at any rate. Raylan knew when to call it quits.
"Alright, darlin', okay." They could let it rest there. "I promise you Miami is just as ridiculous though. Especially when it's spring break. Noise like you wouldn't believe, streets full of more bodies than you can imagine fitting on there.."
It was a distraction, but one that let him squeeze James's hand again before letting it go, and pushing to his feet.
"You want a drink?" This time they could have it together.
The point is you can't change anyone who doesn't want to change and he knows when it's a losing battle and when to retreat. He doesn't have it in him to fight anymore. It hurts that no one seems to understand or see what he sees, even Raylan. He doesn't want the pressure or the responsibility of trying to change anyone's mind when it's clear no one will listen or care.
"I'll need several if I'm going to catch up to you." The tone is subdued, not scathing or accusing. He keeps his eyes turned away, settling into the corner of the couch so he can lean on his elbow, chin in hand, brooding, trying to take deep breaths.
Sighing softly out of his nose, Raylan steps around to the kitchen and gets them two glasses, pulling out one of the better bottles of whiskey and carrying them back over. He sits on the coffee table facing James and ceremoniously pours them a few fingers. The bottle is set down safely to the side and he holds the glass out for James to take.
"It's gonna be okay darlin'. I'm fine with focusin' on us. Over the moon about it, in fact."
As Raylan brings over the whiskey he's half tempted to ask for the whole bottle, but he silently accepts the glass and drinks down those few fingers in a few gulps. He winces softly and holds out the glass. He'll slow down in a minute, right now he wants the burn.
"You're all I have." The only thing he feels like he has any control or power over making better and changing for the better.
"My entire crew hated me, you know." He smiles softly, but it's self-deprecating. "Even then I didn't feel as alone as I do here. I mean, other than when I'm with you, of course. With you is the only place I feel like I belong." That post has made him feel raw.
He swaps the empty glass for his untouched one, opting to just use that one instead and pouring himself out another few fingers.
"I still can't see how you get that many men to follow you outta fear alone. And Gates didn't hate you, did he?" Raylan doesn't smile, knowing full well how that turned out, keeping his voice soft and gentle. "I'm sorry it's not goin' well with everyone else, love. What about Jedao, how do you feel around him."
There's a soft twitch of lips as he mentions Gates and he looks away. "Towards the end, I don't know... he was tired of believing in me, blamed me for Billy's death. He saw Billy as a son. And I..."
Well, he killed him. He killed his best friend. He drinks that second cup down like it's water.
"Don't be." He sighs, "Par for the course." As for Jedao, he shrugs.
"Hard to say some days, but that's sort of different. It's his job to try and fix me."
"You know we don't see it like that, right? It's not 'fixing' you, you're not broken in that way. I-" Raylan lets out a breath, shoulders sagging a little.
"I wanna make it clear from the outset that I got no idea what it takes to graduate. And I'd suggest maybe talkin' to some of those that graduated and stuck around to Warden, see what their experience with it is. I don't even think Jedao knows; none of us do." He hoped James, and Roman, wouldn't hold that against them.
"And I don't think Gates hated you, not if he was ever really your friend to begin with. Real shame one'a these damned mysterious Things hasn't brought him in; I could ask him myself and be a nosey asshole to a guy who doesn't know me but- I've seen a lotta friendships sour, and it all depends on how deep at heart Gates took it.. How'd Billy go down?" Had they touched on a Billy when they were both bleeding out of tattoos and gunshot wounds that had no good business being where they were?
There's a soft, low nod, eyes cast down. He closes his good one and sighs, breathing deep and slow before releasing it, and everything else with a slow exhales. He knows. He does. He just is still very much wrestling with his self-loathing on this. He knows he's broken in a lot of ways, he knows he's got to be difficult to deal with at times. He knows the weight of what it means to believe in him and how exhausting it must be. It was for Gates. And Gates, his longest, truest friend, couldn't weather it. There were times even Miranda went behind his back because she lost faith in his fight and wanted a way out for them.
He turns the empty glass in his fingers before holding it out once more to be filled. He's really going to need a bit more for this.
"No, I don't think he hated me, but he didn't have to for it to sting when he gave up on me and on our plans because he just couldn't weather believing in me anymore, that I'd given him reason to doubt me so much." He didn't blame him, he blamed himself.
"He ... He was going to out me to the crew, he was going to reveal my true intentions which would've seen me judged and the crew would've wanted blood for it. He assured me he'd find a way to secret me away to safety so Miranda and I could run but... I just..." He shakes his head, swallowing the lump in his throat remembering leaping and strangling his best friend before snapping his neck. He felt him die in his arms. He'd sobbed and apologized.
"We were just too close to give up so soon." And he'd killed him to assure he could keep driving the crew to his own ends.
"And Billy," He sighs, "Billy had found out some incriminating things, something Miranda had done behind my back which lead to everything. I questioned him about it while we were being battered by a storm, trying to cut rigging loose to escape the Navy after attacking a ship. It was pitch black, the rails and rigging were slick, Billy fell... I tried to save him, I did..." He pauses because even to this day he's not sure if he let go on purpose.
"He slipped from my fingers. Gates blamed me. Billy had shared this information with him before any of this happened. So Gates assumed I'd done it on purpose to shut him up so he wouldn't tell anyone else." Had he? Did he? He might have, he could have. That was bad enough. He had tried to save him, but he hadn't tried hard enough... on purpose.
It might be a lot, Raylan wouldn't argue that and it wasn't easy to handle a lot of the time but that wasn't near enough to make Raylan give up on him. He knew that saying as much wouldn't help; that others had told James the same thing and then betrayed that promise so Raylan wouldn't promise. But he'd try to hold to it regardless. As much as anyone wanted to help, it was James's path to walk. His decisions to make. And to everyone else; their own.
"There's no fixing what's happened. Those things.. you'll have to live with them for the rest of your life. What matters is what you do going forwards, darlin'. You've suffered enough punishment for all that and I know that doesn't do anythin' for your guilt-" He saw it there on James's face, heard it in his voice and the way his lips downturned slightly when it got tough. "- But you're not strapped down to that way of surviving anymore. You just have to get the rest of yourself to acknowledge that it's okay to do things a different way. I told you before. This isn't your ship. Things aren't the way they were. That's all."
Some people took to that change easier than others. Raylan was going to be here for as long as it took, and then some, if Flint would let him.
"It's all I have to offer. I have nothing else." It's only his experience, his knowledge. The only thing he has are the things he knows best. It's not his ship, but he doesn't have anything else to go by. He can't suggest or recommend anything else, only what has worked for him.
"It'll be enough, James. Accepting the way of this place isn't gonna make you less or stupid or useless. It's just gonna be an adjustment. A differently way of employing those skills you've spent a lifetime sharpening. There's a use for them in leadership. People management. You're just dealin' with a different school of fish."
James feels everything twisting around in his chest, tying him in knots. His negativity, guilt, and self-loathing deny it all and want to rail against what Raylan was saying. But he doesn't have the energy left to argue and he doesn't want to give those feelings any more breathing room. He's tired of people telling him this isn't his ship as if he doesn't already know that. He's tired of people misunderstanding and treating him like he isn't trying to use what he knows for this setting. He's tired of fucking fighting against the tide and bothering to give a fuck where no one else does.
He just wants his life with Raylan and nothing else matters. He finishes his whiskey and sets the glass aside.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I just want you." His gaze flicks up, pleading and vulnerable. He just wants to wrap himself around his lover and listen to his heartbeat, maybe take a damn nap or something to force his brain to shut off for awhile.
Raylan looks at him a long moment and nods softly, glancing down at their hands and squeezes softly. "Okay baby. You got me. It's alright."
He'd leave it alone. He wasn't going anywhere. Raylan unlaced their hands and slipped his around James's shoulders, pulling him into a side hug if there wasn't any resistance.
"Whatever you want." He'd absolutely be into just laying here together, just being, just comforting James with no other conversation. Raylan was willing and pliable and love James no matter what. They'd get through it.
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That would have to be one more thing they'd have to work on, the idea that Raylan is guarded because he assumes someone who loves him will only want to use his vulnerabilities to hurt him in some way. To build up black-mail, or whatever else. That toxic poison that Winona had put into him so deep in his veins that now he assumes it of everyone who loves him. Though he knows his father's abuse has some to do with it, there was a long, deep foundation built because of his Father, but Winona added a million blades and a thousand papercuts to an already painful trauma. Flint's slowly finding more, being allowed to see those hurts, but they run deep and it'll take time to break those poisonous quills from Raylan's skin. He's determined to find and heal every single one that he can. But he can't know about them without seeing it and putting together the pieces, or for Raylan to feel comfortable enough to admit it.
He kisses the other softly in return, feeling the warmth and press of those silent words. If Raylan had proposed to him he wouldn't have cared if there was a ring or not, they had their necklaces, and rings could come later. Those words are bouncing around behind his teeth and tongue. Perhaps it was too soon...
There's a nod of agreement and another gentle kiss, eye focused completely on Raylan. "Or get into a little fistfight, hm? As long as I know what to prepare for when you get back. I want to be here to give you whatever you'll need."
He just wants to be informed and present and prepared.
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Love was always worth it.
He nods again. "Okay. Can't promise that it won't be a text afterwards but.. I can let you know."
He takes a deep breath, eyes still on James's face.
"So we're okay? I want bein' with me a thing that makes you more okay, not more frustrated. And gettin' reamed by half the manifest is a lot. I don't want you thinkin' that I aim to pile on with them." He wanted their home to be the same kind of secure place that he himself needed.
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"We're okay." He squeezes his hand, which they can't seem to let go of one another.
"You're allowed to have different opinions, so if you are upset with anything I said I do want to know. I don't mean to make things more awkward or frustrating either. But I also want you to feel like you can be honest with me in all things."
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"I'm not upset. Disagreein' with people I love is something I've been doin' for a long time." It didn't make him love them, or James, any less. "I don't agree with your purposal, by and large. But I understand where the root of the argument is comin' from. Where the issue lies. Because you're right. We get what, at least two or three killin's a month if not more? If not en mass? I also don't have a counter offer to put on the table next to my disagreement. So sayin' nothin' is generally the wiser choice... Especially to everyone else. I can't have them thinkin' that I'm not next to you. My conversations get exponentially harder when they start poking around to see if I'm on the side of that kinda punishment. To see if they can pass judgement on both of us at the same time, ammo for them to gain the high ground on us later."
He shakes his head a little. "Just a lotta attention I wasn't expecting to have to field."
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Now he was ready to hear it and he casts his eyes down to their still interwoven hands.
"I never intended to bring so much attention down on you, but I also didn't realize you didn't talk to Kiryu, I thought for sure you would have..." He didn't realize how much it bothered Raylan, what happened to Roman.
"But I also hope they don't think you should be collaring and silencing me when I bark. Most of the people responding only focused on the punishment, to which I never said it had to be the only way, just that I don't think fitting, painful repercussions should be ignored. But I am also not a Warden." He sighs.
"My main point was that I think you all should be able to communicate and trust one another to have democracy about how to handle an inmate. I've heard enough of you struggling to find ways to punish powerful inmates and even if you pull in a third Warden to help it's a lot. And what about the victims if they're other inmates? we don't get a voice in any of it. Or the loved ones of the victims? We may not be able to sentence them but we want an opinion on how they should be punished.
I want to give everyone a voice, sometimes an Inmate is sentenced but the other Wardens don't agree with it, and I just think it'll be better and more efficient if we all have a say, we all get a vote, and it can be determined what to do. I know we can't all agree, but even if there are 10 votes Aye to 9 votes Nay, the Ayes still have it. It can work. It could work... they're all just too stubborn to see beyond certain points." He shakes his head.
"I just am not in a position where they'll listen to me or listen to reason."
"But some other points were brought up I've been thinking about. In reality, though my crew had a vote, it was the Quartermaster that ultimately spoke for them. Maybe we do need... not a leader, but a representative, someone with a voice. I would put it to the Inmates to vote of course. I suppose the Wardens could elect one of their own if they feel it necessary. But no one here should be "Captain" we all have our duties and we are all equal. But I can also see the merit of having someone as a Quartermaster, someone to delegate and speak for the rest when necessary." He shakes his head again.
"Perhaps this thought is too alien to everyone else though unless you are on a crew it's hard to understand that kind of brotherhood and bond you have with the man beside you or the kind of trust you have in your Quartermaster. It's like digging minerals together. There's nothing like it. Maybe there's just no way to help them all understand what I mean when I say we need to act as a crew."
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"There's a lotta emotional punishment instead. Tearing off a layer that's forced vulnerability. Stoppin' them from fighting by making them non-corporeal, making them wear tattoos when they lie, whatever a creative Warden might think up."
He squeezes their hands.
"My biggest response to it all is - This ain't a democracy. Period, the end. Kinda cuts the legs out of all of the rest of the points. You can wish it was a democracy, but it-" He lifts and drops one shoulder with a little shake of his head as he looked back over.
"It isn't. Our common bond is that we're all here in the first place. There's community to be found in that. Like the culling. You keep sayin' crew, but this isn't that kind of ship. More than a little abstract from that. Instead of crew, we should focus on community. But I got a feeling the problem you're talkin' about has been a problem forever in this place. It's hard to shift the winds in these particular sails, and I believe that you can. Just gotta blow in the right direction."
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"I never said it was any of those things, I was saying it should be, that we should work to make those things happen that it would improve upon our current system." He's tired, he's explained and repeated and said all these things so many times now he's exhausted.
"It doesn't matter. No one gives a good goddamn. There's no point in wasting any more of my breath and energy, they won't listen, and they won't care." He shakes his head.
"Community, Raylan, is the very thing that fucked me in the first place. I'm not about to let them all fuck me again in the name of what they think is right and wrong, enforcing unbalanced consequences."
"It doesn't matter, nothing matters, that much is clear. Everyone will keep doing whatever they want, whenever they want to."
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Raylan understood the point. He just didn't agree with it.
"Everyone will keep doin' what they want, but it still matters. It all matters. Nihilism doesn't serve you or anyone else here and it undercuts those Wardens that have tried, that continue to try." Himself included. "And community always matters in the end but. We don't have to keep goin' after this horse right now. Not when you've been dealin' with it all afternoon."
More headway might be made later when James had properly calmed down.
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"I don't have faith in community. When you grow up, seeing yourself othered and ostracized, forced outside of society, civilization and community your whole life because you're different and poor. Being afraid of being discovered for what you are and the consequences of who you love. Community looks like a whole host of bullshit that's only meant for certain people. I've never been one of them."
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His gut told him that he should abandon this whole conversation - go and get another drink or three, turn it all over as he stared at the bottom of another empty whiskey tumbler, but they'd just talked about communication and being more honest. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, and that didn't change that now was as good a time as ever to test that out.
"Only way to get this shit to turn in that direction is consistency and self demonstration. Be the change you wanna see in the world and shit." God he sounded like a Hallmark card.
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"I can't, Raylan." He wants to escape, he wants to get up and walk away and get some air but that's not going to help anything. He wanted communication and it's not that he doesn't want to hear what Raylan has to say but he just...
"I don't want to be that man anymore. I don't have the energy. I don't want to break myself in a thousand pieces for people that don't give a shit and don't want to change. I'm not doing it. I can't do it. I'm not leading this charge. This was it. That fire's gone out." He desperately wants a drink.
"I just want our life. I want peace and simplicity. I don't want this fight. I don't care about this fucking Barge anymore. I just want to find some way to go home with you and forget all about this ridiculous place."
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No one was asking James to lead. Raylan was only asking that he keep trying to change minds. It wasn't going to happen tonight, at any rate. Raylan knew when to call it quits.
"Alright, darlin', okay." They could let it rest there. "I promise you Miami is just as ridiculous though. Especially when it's spring break. Noise like you wouldn't believe, streets full of more bodies than you can imagine fitting on there.."
It was a distraction, but one that let him squeeze James's hand again before letting it go, and pushing to his feet.
"You want a drink?" This time they could have it together.
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"I'll need several if I'm going to catch up to you." The tone is subdued, not scathing or accusing. He keeps his eyes turned away, settling into the corner of the couch so he can lean on his elbow, chin in hand, brooding, trying to take deep breaths.
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Sighing softly out of his nose, Raylan steps around to the kitchen and gets them two glasses, pulling out one of the better bottles of whiskey and carrying them back over. He sits on the coffee table facing James and ceremoniously pours them a few fingers. The bottle is set down safely to the side and he holds the glass out for James to take.
"It's gonna be okay darlin'. I'm fine with focusin' on us. Over the moon about it, in fact."
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"You're all I have." The only thing he feels like he has any control or power over making better and changing for the better.
"My entire crew hated me, you know." He smiles softly, but it's self-deprecating. "Even then I didn't feel as alone as I do here. I mean, other than when I'm with you, of course. With you is the only place I feel like I belong." That post has made him feel raw.
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"I still can't see how you get that many men to follow you outta fear alone. And Gates didn't hate you, did he?" Raylan doesn't smile, knowing full well how that turned out, keeping his voice soft and gentle. "I'm sorry it's not goin' well with everyone else, love. What about Jedao, how do you feel around him."
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Well, he killed him. He killed his best friend. He drinks that second cup down like it's water.
"Don't be." He sighs, "Par for the course." As for Jedao, he shrugs.
"Hard to say some days, but that's sort of different. It's his job to try and fix me."
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"I wanna make it clear from the outset that I got no idea what it takes to graduate. And I'd suggest maybe talkin' to some of those that graduated and stuck around to Warden, see what their experience with it is. I don't even think Jedao knows; none of us do." He hoped James, and Roman, wouldn't hold that against them.
"And I don't think Gates hated you, not if he was ever really your friend to begin with. Real shame one'a these damned mysterious Things hasn't brought him in; I could ask him myself and be a nosey asshole to a guy who doesn't know me but- I've seen a lotta friendships sour, and it all depends on how deep at heart Gates took it.. How'd Billy go down?" Had they touched on a Billy when they were both bleeding out of tattoos and gunshot wounds that had no good business being where they were?
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He turns the empty glass in his fingers before holding it out once more to be filled. He's really going to need a bit more for this.
"No, I don't think he hated me, but he didn't have to for it to sting when he gave up on me and on our plans because he just couldn't weather believing in me anymore, that I'd given him reason to doubt me so much." He didn't blame him, he blamed himself.
"He ... He was going to out me to the crew, he was going to reveal my true intentions which would've seen me judged and the crew would've wanted blood for it. He assured me he'd find a way to secret me away to safety so Miranda and I could run but... I just..." He shakes his head, swallowing the lump in his throat remembering leaping and strangling his best friend before snapping his neck. He felt him die in his arms. He'd sobbed and apologized.
"We were just too close to give up so soon." And he'd killed him to assure he could keep driving the crew to his own ends.
"And Billy," He sighs, "Billy had found out some incriminating things, something Miranda had done behind my back which lead to everything. I questioned him about it while we were being battered by a storm, trying to cut rigging loose to escape the Navy after attacking a ship. It was pitch black, the rails and rigging were slick, Billy fell... I tried to save him, I did..." He pauses because even to this day he's not sure if he let go on purpose.
"He slipped from my fingers. Gates blamed me. Billy had shared this information with him before any of this happened. So Gates assumed I'd done it on purpose to shut him up so he wouldn't tell anyone else." Had he? Did he? He might have, he could have. That was bad enough. He had tried to save him, but he hadn't tried hard enough... on purpose.
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"There's no fixing what's happened. Those things.. you'll have to live with them for the rest of your life. What matters is what you do going forwards, darlin'. You've suffered enough punishment for all that and I know that doesn't do anythin' for your guilt-" He saw it there on James's face, heard it in his voice and the way his lips downturned slightly when it got tough. "- But you're not strapped down to that way of surviving anymore. You just have to get the rest of yourself to acknowledge that it's okay to do things a different way. I told you before. This isn't your ship. Things aren't the way they were. That's all."
Some people took to that change easier than others. Raylan was going to be here for as long as it took, and then some, if Flint would let him.
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He just wants his life with Raylan and nothing else matters. He finishes his whiskey and sets the glass aside.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I just want you." His gaze flicks up, pleading and vulnerable. He just wants to wrap himself around his lover and listen to his heartbeat, maybe take a damn nap or something to force his brain to shut off for awhile.
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He'd leave it alone. He wasn't going anywhere. Raylan unlaced their hands and slipped his around James's shoulders, pulling him into a side hug if there wasn't any resistance.
"Whatever you want." He'd absolutely be into just laying here together, just being, just comforting James with no other conversation. Raylan was willing and pliable and love James no matter what. They'd get through it.