#handsigned

angst meme / accepting and answering as slow as i heckin' want to

there are things that joey hudson does not talk about.

it's the undeniable truth, as much as she may refuse to admit it, that she emerged from john seed's bunker a changed woman. though no stranger to pain, she feels universes away from the woman who marched alongside rook, earl and staci up to arrest joseph seed. . .

what happened in john seed's bunker remains known by only a select few -- some so hidden that they only exist in her own memory, and the memory of the man she hates possibly more than anything in the world. just joey and john. they're the only two who will ever fully know WHAT HAPPENED TO HER.

these are things that joey hudson does not talk about. and that's becoming a burden too heavy to bear.

it starts accidentally, joey tells herself. she's always been drawn to rook -- always been attracted, if she's being honest. there's always been a CONNECTION there. joey tells herself its gratitude that keeps her spending more and more time at rook's side. its gratitude, she thinks as she invites rook over evening after evening for dinner or a drink or whatever flimsy excuse joey can think of to be close to her. it's the reason she gives herself for the easy intimacy that finds itself blossoming between the two women.

usually, rook's presence is calming enough for joey that it's easier to bear her burden -- but not tonight. not after what's happened. not after joey was helping to liberate an eden's gate outpost nearby fall's end when one of those fucking cultists recognized her.

"hey there, sweetheart. awful long way from john's bunker, aren't ya? i hear he misses you."

it chilled her to the core, shaking her and leaving her reeling, even with rook here. joey stood in her bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, while rook sat on her couch, unaware of the internal struggle battling on in joey's head. staring at herself in the mirror, joey let the water run, splashing over the sink. dipping her hands in, she splashed the cold water over her face, letting it shock her system. a deep breath, eyes closed. . . it’s time. she knows it is.

there’s no one ELSE she’d trust with this information. it’s not that just rook saved her — it’s more than that. ever since rook joined the hope county sheriff’s department, she and joey had grown closer and closer. at first, joey had thought her choices — learning to sign, slowing her speech so rook could read her lips easily until she built up a decent signing vocabulary — had all been about being a good colleague and partner. but now — staring at herself in the mirror — joey knew it was about MORE than that.

rook was. . . well, rook was everything to her, wasn’t she?

and now it was time to let her in. staring at herself in the mirror, joey knew that she’d have to tell SOMEONE what happened to her. she couldn’t keep this just to herself any longer — there wasn’t enough whiskey in the world to keep her stable. and there’s no one else she trusts more with this than rook.

finally, after toweling her face off and taking a few deep breaths — joey stepped from the bathroom. there was something about her that looked shaken, unstable, even beneath her usual calm facade. rook was still sitting on joey’s couch — right where she left her — glass of whiskey in hand, joey’s left alone beside the bottle on the table.

silently, joey approached the couch, sitting beside rook, facing her — close enough for joey’s knee to brush against rook’s. it was easy intimacy, exactly the thing joey needed at the moment. she was struck with a desire to reach for rook’s hand, but she’d need her own to sign, so what joey settled on was a quick brush of her fingers along rook’s thigh. a simple, quiet gesture. i need you.

"there’s something i want to tell you." joey signed, meeting rook’s eyes finally for the first time since she came out of the bathroom. her hands shook, but she signed again, "i want to tell you what happened with john. i want to tell you everything."

"i might not —" her signs stumbled for a minute, fingers shaking, an unreadable look crept over joey's face before she hid it away. joey knew she needed to do this. . . but is it too much? rook has enough horror and pain in her life. did she need joey’s, too?

"i might not have the words." joey signed, making a gesture that mirrored the fact that she might not have the signing vocabulary to describe what happened to her, "but i have to. . . i need to."

joey met rook’s gaze again. now three people in the world will know the hell and horror joey hudson has been through. joey herself, john seed, and now rook.

please. joey signed, waiting for rook to tell her it’s okay, that she can talk, she can let it all out. waiting for rook to tell her she’s SAFE and IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY.

"i trust you. . . more than anything. i want to tell you. please."

This is a sign language song by Keiichiro Koyama from Japan.

Keiichiro Koyama talks with a deaf person in sign language.

He has been studying sign language for ten years.

He is singing in a group named NEWS.

“It’s not something you just announce on the first meet.” She sits back against a wooden pillar that corners an old patio. The paint peels in thin scales against her vault-suit, but here is as safe as they can manage in a place like this. Her fingers pick at the cuffs, but her eyes remain fixed on Rook. She’s watching for a response. “And when we first met, I didn’t know. Too much was happening, then.”