xp_logs | Sunday Night, Dirty Laundry.

After the students come back, Bobby goes to try to apologise to Terry. Terry is, however, not ready to be gracious.

Bobby had been pacing for nearly twenty minutes, ever since he'd watched the DC group pull back onto the grounds. He wasn't sure what to say to Terry, but he wanted to talk to her--wanted to see her, at least. So finally he sucked it up and went down to her room, knocking at the suite door and then letting himself in when no one answered, heading to Terry's bedroom.

Terry was unpacking her things from the trip, throwing unworn clothes in a pile on her bed to be refolded and put away and tossing the rest into her laundry basket. There was something soothing about doing laundry--the homeyness of it--that helped at times like this when she just felt like she'd retreated from the edges of living and so felt everything only through several numbed layers of skin. It usually took half a bottle of whiskey to achieve but enough misery, she knew, would blunt life just as effectively. She didn't look up when the door opened, assuming it was her roommate.

Bobby just stood in the doorway for a minute, just watching her doing something so domestic. It almost hurt. Finally, he took a quick breath and asked, as casually as he could, as if it wasn't at all weird that he was here, "Have a good trip?"

She looked up at him slowly, blinking. Under all the numbing layers, her heart twisted painfully to see him even as it leapt in hope. She clamped down on both reactions. "Dr. Grey didn't come back with us. And no one is talking about where she is." Terry threw the last shirt into the basket then bent to pick it up. "Other than that, it was fine."

"Oh." He seemed to be saying that to her a lot, these days. "I'm sure something came up. You know how those things are." He combed his fingers through his hair. "Look, I wanted to apologize for the other day."

Tucking the basket under one arm, she pushed her hair out of the way with the other, and gave him a flat look, still ignoring as much as she could the wildly ambivalent reaction of her heart. "I have laundry to do. You can apologise there if you want." Lowering her head, she pushed past him to the suite and out to the hall.

Okay, that stung. But he probably deserved it, so he just nodded and followed her out, trying to catch up so he could hold doors for her. In the meantime, he was drinking in just being near her again, and trying not to think about how much he's missed her, and some of the stupid things he'd done to try not to think about her.

"Thanks," she said quietly, as he opened the laundry room door. Not surprisingly, given the time, the room was empty, though a couple of machines hummed away. As the door closed behind them, the humming acted like a white noise machine washing away the outside world even to Terry's ears. She shivered and set down the basket in front of an empty washer.

Bobby hopped up onto a dryer, watching her start to methodically load the first free washer with her clothes. "I'm sorry for what I said the other day," he started, quietly.

Terry shook her head, stopping him before he could get any further. "You said a lot of things the other day. What parts of it are you sorry for?"

Bobby hung his head. It wasn't as much what he'd said as what he hadn't said, to be honest. "Mostly the part where I was an asshole and walked out on you," he muttered.

"Oh." Terry dumped a pair of slacks in after a beige skirt then let the lid slam down. "Aye, that hurt me. I've been thinking about that a lot."

Bobby jolted as the lid closed--he'd been distracted by the skirt she'd just loaded. "Uh." What was he saying? Right. "Yeah, me too. I'm really sorry, I was just hurt and upset and frustrated..." And none of that was an excuse, he knew, but it was a start.

"You were probably right." Terry told him, moving down to the next open washing machine and starting to load her dark clothes into it. "I shouldn't have expected to keep you at arms-length and have you be satisfied with that. I'm sure you're better off not having to pretend when you're around me."

"...Pretend what?" Bobby asked, confused. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes traveling over her longingly.

Terry just shrugged and continued sorting her clothes. People left. It was the one constant that she could count on. Bobby had walked away. Dr. Grey vanished without a trace and no one seemed to care. "That things aren't over."

Bobby's stomach lurched. "...Are you saying they are?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

"Aren't they?" Terry's hands hurt from clenching the black sweater she had been putting in the washer. "You said you were sorry that you walked out. But not that you thought you were wrong. I still need time, Bobby. That's not changed."

Bobby remembered what Jay had said, and flushed faintly at thinking about Jay at all. Stupid, stupid mistake. And one she doesn't need to know about. But he had pointed out, quite sensibly, that maybe Terry wanted Bobby to fight for her. "I miss you, Terry," he said, pleadingly. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"And I can't stop thinking about what happened two weeks ago!" The numbness shredded and the pain bled through to Terry's voice. "I can't just make that stop! I can't make everything normal again!"

Bobby jerked back, her vehemence startling him. "I--I don't expect you to," he stammered, at a loss. "But does that mean we can't be together? That I can't even...touch you?"

"You tell me, Bobby." Terry threw the sweater into the machine and turned to face him, "You asked me to marry you and I'm asking you to step back from everything we've been for the last six months. Can you handle that? Do you even want that?"

"No, I don't!" Bobby jumped down, taking a step toward her. "I don't--I don't expect things to go back to the way they were, Terry, but...I still love you. And I'm going crazy without you." He held his hands out in front of them, looking down at them and added softly, "I need you." There. He'd said it.

Terry bit her lip and looked away, arms wrapping around her waist protectively. "I love you, Bobby. But I can't be...I think we got in too deep. I'm still in high school, we shouldn't be this intense."

"Fine, whatever, you're in charge, okay? Just...please. Come back to me." Bobby was about ready to drop to his knees and beg if that's what it took.

She stepped closer to him, tilting her head back so she could look him in the face but the tight grip she had around her waist never loosened. "We're both part of this, Bobby. I can tell you what I need but making me in charge...that just means that you're still not telling me what you need. There's got to be more to it than just me. What do you want from me?"

With her this close, Bobby couldn't help but reach out, clasping her arm lightly. "I want my girlfriend back." He sighed, rubbing her arm. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen."

"I still need more time, Bobby. And I don't know if I can be your girlfriend while I figure this out. At least not a good one." While she fought the guilt and the despair. The questions and doubts. Terry clenched her jaw, trying to banish the need to tell him what was going through her head. "I don't want to lose you. I told you before that I didn't. But...things just aren't simple right now."

Bobby was near tears, and he turned away, getting a grip on himself. "...Fine. You tell me what you want me to do, then." He turned back to her slowly, hands clenched in fists. "You want me to just wait for you forever? Fine. Whatever I have to do to get you back."

Seeing him so close to crying oddly made it easier for her own eyes to stay dry though she was hurting every bit as much. "I don't want to tell you what to do," Terry said quietly, so much so her words were almost swallowed up by the noise of the washers, "I want you to do what you want to. What...don't you even think about it a little? What just happened? Isn't there anything that you can't shake off like I can't..." she bit off the end of the confession and lowered her head.

"Of course I think about it!" Bobby obviously reacted very differently to it than Terry, is all. It just made him want to be close to her, to hold her and tell her it was all okay, even though he wasn't sure why he'd need to say that, or she'd need to hear it. "It was scary as hell. It would have changed our lives. But it was a false alarm." Too bad it had clearly changed their lives, anyway.

From the look she gave him that was the worst thing he could have said. Terry stumbled back, shaking her head violently. "You don't understand. It wasn't the same for you. Not like it was for me."

What does that matter? Bobby wondered, but didn't say. Aloud, he just said, "Then tell me. Tell me what it was like for you. Just...let me back in, baby."

"Tell you!" Terry exploded, voice breaking, "All I do is tell you things! And you never tell me anything at all. I keep asking you what you need and you just keep shoving it back on me. I can't handle it, Bobby! I can't!"

"I've told you what I need!" Bobby shouted, slamming his fist against the doorframe. "And you told me I can't have it! What else can I do but try to help you, then?"

Terry backed up until she hit the wall. "I think you should go now," she whispered as tears started to trace their way down her cheeks. "I don't... You need to go." She couldn't tell him. Not until she understood and until then he was...she just couldn't do this.

"Terry, please!" His voice was strangled as he begged. He took a step forward, reaching out, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears, her pain.

She shook her head. "No. Please. I just need to be alone. Just leave me alone." She fisted away the tears, struggling to breathe. "It's just too much."

Bobby swallowed, his hand slowly dropping to his side. "...If that's what you want," he whispered, and all but ran from the room.