Who: Jane and Daryl What: Realizing that something is broken Where: Bathos 204 When: After the Thanksgiving party - specifically, after this Warnings: This will be depressing and a testament to an awesome homance
Daryl knew that Jane wouldn't be home yet. When she and Mr. Morgenstern had left the dinner, she saw Jane still there, still flagrantly ignoring everything she had told her. Jane wouldn't listen. She didn't understand. Nobody did. Even Detective Warda, as great an ally as she was, didn't see things the way Daryl did. Nobody could. The world was full of cotton down and sawdust, filler for thoughts to keep the masses from thinking too much. Daryl had cleared out her attic, and it seemed that that was working to her disadvantage.
Unlocking her door was a challenge. Her hands were shaking, and she had to force the key into the lock as if it weren't supposed to be there. As she opened the door, Toby flung himself at her legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Normally, she'd stoop and pet him. Tonight, she wearily pushed him aside with a foot, her dress draping out of the way, and stumbled to the couch. Not even bothering to change or take off her shoes, she slumped against the couch's arm, a pillow wedging itself awkwardly against her waist. She didn't have the strength to move it.
Her hair was half-down, pulled mostly out of its updo. The hairspray and bobby pins that had held her hair in place were still trying to hold on, keeping her hair up in some places and not in others. Kinks and waves brushed her shoulders, but she didn't think to brush back. It felt as if a monsoon had hit her intestines, and she didn't know what to do. Her face burned, and not in the way it had in the past. A lump was in her throat, a lump she couldn't swallow away, and her hands were still shaking for seemingly no reason. Removing herself from his presence hadn't stopped this. Her cure had been a failure.