“because i know everything.” she’s only half-joking. josephine turns her head to look at him, eyebrows lifting. “–– seriously, though. tell me.” 

          she snorts out a laugh, mirrors the way he’s sitting. “what else am i supposed to act like, then? other than what i am.” 

          she mutters something about him being stubborn, flops down beside him, and folds her arms over her chest. “then i’ll sit here until you do.” the challenge, while left unspoken, is still there: and i’m a lot more stubborn than you.

          “well, obviously there’s something you want to. so go ahead, say it.”

     "     𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ?? i ain’t never been graceful a day in my life , i’ve gotten by .     “ 

          she lets out a huff, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, unnecessarily petulant. she feels like a child again, reprimanded for something without realizing what she’d even done wrong in the first place; elliot had been the one to bring it up, and she still isn’t sure why. 

           “how i feel about him, or this place –– it doesn’t make me any less happy for you.” it never has. maybe she is resentful of the fact that she was not the one to give elliot these opportunities, the ones she’d always talked about giving him, the plans they’d had, the future she saw for them both before it was snatched away, but it does not mean that she isn’t happy that he was given them all the same. she’s always wanted the best for elliot. he must know that, after all this time. “if that’s what you’re worried about. you found a place that feels like home. it didn’t for me. admitting that –– it’s fine, el. why do you think it’s not?” 

          that’s not what he was saying.  it all seems pointless to go into now,  because josephine was his sister,  she wasn’t his patient.  if he phrased it in certain ways,  she would immediately be set off by any kind of counseling about feelings.  he had done his best to never make her feel that way,  except when she wanted honest opinions about how to handle a certain feeling.

          but there were certain things that might be good,  if she could let go of some of her resentment to this place.  she could help kids who were destructive,  who were scared of themselves.  she could help kids in many different ways,  and while she did good outside of the school,  many of them were here.  ready to be helped.  

          she’d never been happy in westchester –– not for lack of trying, because she had tried, had wanted to force it, had been determined to, for elliot. the walls always felt as though they were closing in and what should’ve been a comfort –– the isolation, the safety of it, the people like her –– only seemed more and more smothering. she’d wanted out. she’d needed to be. 

           (she’d looked around and saw what could’ve been. if she’d been found sooner; if she’d never been put in that lab at all. if things had happened differently for her and for elliot and if she’d learned about xavier’s in another way, been paid a visit like some of the others were, been brought back here and welcomed home. instead, she felt out of place, different in a place full of people who were. elliot had a dozen different doors open for him and josephine had felt as though every single one shut in her face instead.) 

           “none of it is a part of my life anymore.” it had been, then. and maybe it is still by proxy, because of him. “so i don’t know why you’re so determined to keep bringing it up.” 

          he could bite back with i’m apart of your life,  so it kind of is  --  but he didn’t want the situation to escalate more.  what was important is that she was reminded of it  --  this anger she didn’t need to hold onto,  the resentment towards a place and a situation that was out of her control.  she never had to like it here.  but to be resentful,  to seem still angry,  especially at a man who saved her  --  why did she keep it?  

          he’s just been kind to us. plenty of people have been kind to josephine and it hasn’t grated against her in the same way the professor’s brand of kindness has, though maybe that had more to do with that period of her life than anything else. she’d been so suspicious of everyone back then, so sharp-edged, despite the fact that he was one of the people responsible for the fact that she ever made it out of that lab at all. if she’d come to the school like elliot had, or some of the others, would she feel the same way? 

           “i didn’t want his help.” didn’t want him prodding at her mind, didn’t want to tell him the sort of things she’d seen, what she could remember. didn’t want to acknowledge what she could do, the power there, the things she was capable of. she hadn’t wanted any of it. it would’ve been easier to lock it away instead. 

           “what does it matter to you, anyway? do you think i would be better off or something, if i’d stayed?” 

          he forces a breath,  and another,  trying not to get irritated with her.  as close as they were,  they were still siblings,  prone to these kind of annoyances like they were kids again,  squabbling.  

          “is that what this is about?”

            she’s deflecting, caught in the precarious position she never wants to find herself in, where she has to at least attempt at lying to elliot. it’s too easy for elliot to call her bluff, especially with this, and it seems easier to give the whole thing up, to go ahead and admit what they both know –– that yes, she very likely will. would it solve anything, telling him so? she doubts it. 

           “i can be wary of him and still admit that he did a lot more for you than i could’ve.” which, in itself, is the problem; it should’ve been her, and it will always sting that it wasn’t. “is that what you want me to say? that i know he opened up doors for you that would’ve stayed closed, otherwise?” 

      “ you’re twenty-nine, not fourty. please get it together. ”