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helsinkibabyTitle: Pressing on a Bruise
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Following
Pairing: Mike Weston/ Debra Parker
Rating: G
Spoilers: AU for season two.
Summary: Mike finds Debra reading Carrie Cook's book.
Notes: for the reading square on my Cotton Candy Bingo card
"You shouldn't be reading that."
It's not the first time Mike's told her that, nor is it likely to be the last so Debra just looks up from her copy of "The Havenport Tragedy" and lifts an eyebrow. Mike stands in front of her in pajama pants and a t-shirt, hair still damp from his shower and she knew he'd been looking forward to a nice relaxing evening together. Her choice of reading material, however, means that that's going to have to wait. "What, you're afraid it's going to make my nightmares worse?" she asks dryly - they both know that's not actually possible, or at least they fervently hope so.
Mike gives her an exasperated look and she's grateful he's not rolling his eyes. "I don't know, I read a paragraph or two... the abundance of adverbs and alliteration made me want to scream."
He's learned, Debra thinks, over the last few months, to temper serious thoughts with humour and it works again here - she's tried the exact same tactic on him too. Debra chuckles at his dead-on imitation of Carrie Cook's writing style and the twinkle in his eye, the twitch of his lips, has her closing the book altogether for a little while.
Mike takes it from her knees, throws it on the coffee table with a resounding thud, then sits beside her and takes his hands in hers. "I know you can't forget, Deb," he tells her. "None of us can... but I don't see how reading every thing written about it helps."
Debra shakes her head, at a loss to explain even to herself. "I need to understand," she says. "Why those people did what they did, what pull Joe had on them. And I want to read what people say about the investigation..."
Mike sighs, tilts his head. "It just feels like you're pressing on a bruise," he tells her. "It's not good for you."
"It's not like that," she tells him, squeezing his hands. "I've done this my whole life. When I left my family, I wanted to understand, so I studied cults, read everything I could about them. Then, when I joined the Bureau, I ended up at Alternate Religions... not just because I wanted to save girls like me. Because I thought if I knew more, I'd understand."
Except it hadn't worked out that way, and that knowledge has tears creeping up her throat, threatening to choke her. All she can do is hold his hands tightly. "I know you want me to move on," she says after a moment. "Put it behind me. And I'm trying, Mike, I am. But this is the only way I know how to do it."
Mike holds her gaze for a long moment, then slowly nods. "I can respect that," he says and relief breaks over her like a wave. "You know I'm here though, right? For anything you need?"
"I know." She scoots closer to him on the couch, rests her head against his chest. She can hear the steady beat of his heart and it calms her, soothes her in a way that no words can.
The book remains on the table for the rest of the night.
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Following
Pairing: Mike Weston/ Debra Parker
Rating: G
Spoilers: AU for season two.
Summary: Mike finds Debra reading Carrie Cook's book.
Notes: for the reading square on my Cotton Candy Bingo card
"You shouldn't be reading that."
It's not the first time Mike's told her that, nor is it likely to be the last so Debra just looks up from her copy of "The Havenport Tragedy" and lifts an eyebrow. Mike stands in front of her in pajama pants and a t-shirt, hair still damp from his shower and she knew he'd been looking forward to a nice relaxing evening together. Her choice of reading material, however, means that that's going to have to wait. "What, you're afraid it's going to make my nightmares worse?" she asks dryly - they both know that's not actually possible, or at least they fervently hope so.
Mike gives her an exasperated look and she's grateful he's not rolling his eyes. "I don't know, I read a paragraph or two... the abundance of adverbs and alliteration made me want to scream."
He's learned, Debra thinks, over the last few months, to temper serious thoughts with humour and it works again here - she's tried the exact same tactic on him too. Debra chuckles at his dead-on imitation of Carrie Cook's writing style and the twinkle in his eye, the twitch of his lips, has her closing the book altogether for a little while.
Mike takes it from her knees, throws it on the coffee table with a resounding thud, then sits beside her and takes his hands in hers. "I know you can't forget, Deb," he tells her. "None of us can... but I don't see how reading every thing written about it helps."
Debra shakes her head, at a loss to explain even to herself. "I need to understand," she says. "Why those people did what they did, what pull Joe had on them. And I want to read what people say about the investigation..."
Mike sighs, tilts his head. "It just feels like you're pressing on a bruise," he tells her. "It's not good for you."
"It's not like that," she tells him, squeezing his hands. "I've done this my whole life. When I left my family, I wanted to understand, so I studied cults, read everything I could about them. Then, when I joined the Bureau, I ended up at Alternate Religions... not just because I wanted to save girls like me. Because I thought if I knew more, I'd understand."
Except it hadn't worked out that way, and that knowledge has tears creeping up her throat, threatening to choke her. All she can do is hold his hands tightly. "I know you want me to move on," she says after a moment. "Put it behind me. And I'm trying, Mike, I am. But this is the only way I know how to do it."
Mike holds her gaze for a long moment, then slowly nods. "I can respect that," he says and relief breaks over her like a wave. "You know I'm here though, right? For anything you need?"
"I know." She scoots closer to him on the couch, rests her head against his chest. She can hear the steady beat of his heart and it calms her, soothes her in a way that no words can.
The book remains on the table for the rest of the night.
