insurgents | OPEN POST.

"Right, because how could innocents possibly be harmed by taking you out of the equation and then unleashing the other guy."

She takes a deep breath and pulls a hand through her hair, aware that she needs to calm down.

"Sorry. Mind control is..."

To call it a sore spot doesn't even begin to cover it.

He gets where she's going, he does, but at the same time, he's been stuck on that same thought for a while, and he's worked his way through it. He resented Wanda for a while, he went so far as to outright threaten her in a display of calm and quiet anger that he didn't remember showing in a very long time.

It took him nowhere, though. And he knows it was wrong of her, dangerous, stupid, but it wasn't evil. She didn't do it with the express purpose of hurting anyone. Well, aside from the Avengers, whom she saw as an enemy at the time.

"I know. And I've been in that place for a while, festering in my own feelings, but nothing came of it. It was just better to let go."

And recognize, in the end, that she was fighting for the same thing as they were.

It's going to take Trish a while longer before she lets it go. The months of pain and sadness, not to mention the endless questions both from the media and her listeners.

If you are a celebrity and your boyfriend ups and leaves you after a traumatic event, you don't get to mourn it in private.

"I will. I just need some time to process that someone messed with the mind of someone I love again."

And there are no guarantees that she will ever be able to look at Wanda (should that ever happen) and not see Kilgrave.

Bruce hasn't even thought of that yet, how she's probably had to deal with one too many people asking her about him. Sure, there were a couple of calls during her program, but they hadn't been that many, and he didn't think that she'd have been bothered about it even more than that.

"It's not the same. I mean, with Kilgrave... Wanda's not like him. At all. I get it'll take you a while, I'm still working through it myself, but that's an important distinction to make."

And little does he know yet, or he would tell her, that Wanda is part of the team now, an Avenger herself.

"If she's nothing like him then she better not mess with anyone's head ever again, friend or enemy."

Some things no one should have the eight to do to anyone, regardless of the situation.

He tips his head in a small nod, deciding to let the subject drop for now. If she wants to know more about what happened, she can always ask, but for the moment he's covered most of the bases, he thinks.

Besides, they're passing the café just now, and he nods toward the corner just a few feet ahead.

"We're here."

It's a tiny door and a narrow flight of stairs that take them to a dingy flat that's a little more than a room with a mattress on the floor, a couch in one corner, and a minimally equipped kitchenette. It's clean and tidy for the most part, but it's still far from impressive, though as they step inside his main concern is with gathering all the sheets of paper scattered around the room. All of them scribbled and written on, some with long paragraphs, others with nearly everything scratched out, and a couple even crumpled up.

Should've definitely remembered all his unfinished letters to her, good job Bruce.

Trish rolls her suitcase in and drops her purse, bending to pick up one of the notes, genuinely just meaning to help.

The place is more or less what she expects it to be, what with the town being what it is and Bruce being who he is.

She's not even all that surprised until she sees her name on the note in her hand, bending to pick up a few more only to find the same thing.

Letters. To her.

"Bruce..."

With the tone in her voice then it should be no surprise to see her holding some of the letters herself, but when he turns, he feels a small lump forming in his throat, his hands gripping the sheets in his hands a little tighter before he makes his way over to her.

"Sorry."

Not that he's ashamed that he tried to write to her, or started hundreds of explanations and apologies in his head and on paper that never went anywhere. He's sorry that he never actually finished a single one of these, that his words never really reached her for all the months she was left waiting, alone and angry and suffering.

"I told you, I tried to write you."

She looks down at the papers in her hand, swallowing hard around a lump that has formed in her throat as well before she looks up at Bruce again.

"You tried a lot."

"Yes."

He looks down, a small sad smile in his face, as he reaches for the sheets of paper in her hand, piling them together with the ones he's gathered already. He'll just throw them all out, probably. Not like he has a reason to keep trying now, anyway.

"Not that it made much of a difference."

She lets him take the letters from her, a hand cupping his face to turn it back up so that she can see her smile.

"It makes a bit of a difference."

It is tangible, solid proof of just how much he did try to explain himself to her. How much he thought of her, longed for her. It is a manifestation of how strong their love was even when they both thought it was something lost.

The gesture has him looking up at her, his free hand moving up and cupping her own.

"But it didn't make a difference then."

She still didn't know, she was still left feeling alone and left behind - which she was, all things considered. His letters never served the purpose he'd intended for them - to explain his decision to her, to apologize to her, to maybe help her move on, maybe even help her forgive him one day - because they never were more than words and thoughts scattered on the floor of his room.

"Well. There's this guy I know, who talks a lot about letting things go..."

Does she wish that he would have managed to actually send one of all his letters? Hell yes.

On the other hand, it wouldn't really have changed all that much. She would still have been heartbroken. She would still be without the man she loved, she would still be thinking that she would never see him again and it would still hurt just as much.

She certainly wouldn't have appreciated any effort to help her move on, because she was damn near allergic to Bruce ever hinting that someone else might be better for her.

Well, he thought it would have helped, at least. But then, what does he know. He has a tendency to screw up anything that's good in his life, though he tells himself it's for a good reason. It's hard to imagine ever having a normal life again, with what he has inside of him, and always will for the rest of his life.

He chuckles at her words, his smile turning into a lopsided grin as he tips his head just so, his shoulders relaxing a little.

"Using my own words against me? How crafty of you."

Jokes aside, she's right. No point in mulling over what he could or couldn't have done differently. It's in the past now, and he tries not to linger too much on that these days.

"But I could never let go of you."

"Evidence would suggest that."

Said with a smile as she looks around at the letters, again using his own words.

She really had been with him every day. She couldn't help loving that fact.

He looks a little sheepish at all the mess with the unfinished letters everywhere. He really should've tidied them up into a pile, honestly, this just looks ridiculous.

"Let me just... I'll put them away."

He goes back to picking up whatever letters are still scattered around, so he can just shove them all into a drawer somewhere.

"I'll help."

She starts to collect papers as well occasionally glancing at a few words here and there even though she tries not to.

"You know, I think you have finally reached the same levels as some of my fans when it comes to obsessing over me."

She's just kidding of course, she would never actually make that comparison in earnest.

He doesn't mind her reading them, honestly. They were meant for her, after all. But he doesn't want her to feel like she has to for some reason, so he figures they're best kept out of sight.

Once all the papers are gathered, he slides them into a drawer, grinning lopsidedly as he holds a hand out to take the ones she's picked up.

"Great, I'm officially a celebrity stalker now. Maybe I'll have the cops knocking on my door soon?"

What door Bruce, you don't have a place to live in New York anymore, remember.

"You mean our door?"

Smoothest way ever of saying that he can come live with her if he wants to?

"No, I think we can avoid that."

He stops for a moment, quiet, glancing at her before he dips his head in a faint nod.

"Right."

Not that he minds living with her. Rather the opposite, even, and it wouldn't be all that different from how things were before he left, right? More often than not they spent the night over at each other's places, but they never actually talked about moving in together.

"And you're... okay with that?"

True, Bruce doesn't have a lot of options, but he could figure something out. He doesn't have to move into her place if she's not comfortable with it.

She considers making a joke about that being the best way of knowing where he is, but this really is a serious matter so instead she settles on simply saying:

"Yes."

It will probably take her a while to not come home vaguely anxious that he just... Won't be there, but she can deal.

He lets out a soft exhale when she answers, only then realizing he was kind of hold his breath in. Shoulders relaxing, he smiles at her, giving her a surer nod.

"Alright."

And that's it. With only a handful of words, they take a step and make a decision that Bruce would have thought would need a much longer and more thorough conversation.

Under other circumstances more talking would probably have been necessary, yes, but as things stand? It seems like a fairly easy decision to make, and it's not like it has to be permanent. If Bruce wants to start looking for a place of his own when they get back to New York, Trish won't be offended.

For the moment though, Trish just makes her way over to Bruce to give him another tight hug.

"Good."

Things don't always have to be complicated.

Well, it certainly will be a new first for them, so they'll have to see how things work out. But Bruce is feeling cautiously optimistic, for a change.

He wraps his arms around her when she hugs him, pulling her close again, turning his head to the side and pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"What have you been doing all this time? To keep yourself fed with a roof over your head I mean."

She can't let him go. It feels too good to hold him again, to have his lips pressing against her skin.

It's almost alarming how much she has needed it.

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