suave_thomas: (In The Cars)
Stephie, Spectre said that you felt I was yelling at you last night. I'm so sorry. I wasn't yelling at you, which is why I said I wasn't angry with you. I had just left Russia and I was just...too emotionally drained to deal with strangers in my house without any explanation. And if Scott was someone who had explained better than, "I'm Scott," as if I should know him, I wouldn't have flipped out so much. Then he refused to hand me Marie and it freaked me out. I came to you because I thought you'd understand I had been through something terrible and then finding some stranger who wouldn't hand me Marie was pretty...emotionally traumatising. I didn't mean to yell, I was just freaking out. And when you yelled back, probably because you were freaking out too. I just couldn't handle it any more and I couldn't stay in the same room if it was going to be an argument. I didn't have the energy.

I'm very sorry, Stephie. And will you tell Scott that now that I'm calmer, I actually appreciate that he didn't hand over Marie. He didn't explain who he was, but neither did I, and the fact that he wouldn't surrender her to someone who barged in and demanded her is...pretty impressive. Even if it did piss me right the fuck off.

Are we okay? I really...I would like to talk to you about Russia. It was shit. I'm at RMMH with Katya until she can leave. She's quite ill. All stuff she will recover from, but it'll take awhile. And I don't want her to be alone because she's been alone for so long.
suave_thomas: (Saddened)
I miss you. I'm distracting myself in any way I can, but all I can really think about is you. And that you're going through something horrible. And I have to stand back and let Indiana Jones and Charlie's Angels look for you because when I was helping, I was too afraid of Amaris and the Templar and I held them all back.

I've become a fraidy cat. A loser. I used to be that guy. That 'burst into the building and bust heads and then ask questions' guy. Now I'm 'hide in the fortress house and teach myself dance moves to hide my weeping soul' guy. I try to pretend I'm fine but I'm not. And I'm actually terrified someone might ask why I'm NOT out with them. What would I say? Sorry, I travelled all this way to panic attack my way into the splits, but I did learn a new sandwich recipe!

My best friend is suffering and I know how he feels and I am useless. I've been rendered useless.

I'm so sorry.
suave_thomas: (Strong and Silent)
I'm sorry.

I'll stop avoiding people now. I love you all.
suave_thomas: (Saddened)
I'm sorry. I've been avoiding you, which I am sure you are far too aware of by now. It's not anything you did, I promise. I've been afraid you would notice... I've been here too long and it hurts, but if I'm not here I can't be with Stephie. And everything she's feeling is my fault, so I have to be with her. I was afraid you would send me away. But that's terrible of me, because you risked so much coming to save me. When I saw you there...besides feeling so fucking relieved it was over, I felt fear. Fear for you because that place...fuck, Spectre. If they got their hands on you, do you know what they would do to you? I know you do. I know that. And you risked that to come for me, and I have spent the last several days saying nothing and I am so sorry.

I love you. I love you more than anything. More than any one. I just didn't want you to see my pain.

Speaking of pain... Now might be a good time to get this thing off of me... Because just thinking about you is causing a reaction and ouch. A lot of ouch. And I got all angry and had a little hissy fit and tried to pull it off? Oh my dear god, mistake.
suave_thomas: (Down)
I would get back to London the day after you leave.

I love you, Babe. Everything's okay. I think all Hell broke loose, but Lavannah's safe in hospital. And it wasn't Aurelia, it was her damn fucking twin sister. Confirmed now by Dr Wentworth who casually said, "I never told you she had a twin sister?"

No, Dr Twatface, you didn't. I can't really be mad at him though because had I still been alive at this juncture, he would be the reason I wouldn't be attached to a food tube.

I'm being belligerent. I'm in a shite mood. I don't really want to talk about the fight. Before that, Peter and I got separated from Svetlana and Mary and there were a bunch of ghosts (hundreds, I am not exaggerating) who cornered us in this prison cell and locked the door. And I wasn't doing so well there because of course our supplies got dropped outside the cell in the ghost attack. And I was watching Peter go hungry and it made me a little bit mad. And then we kissed. And I'm so sorry. And it doesn't mean anything except that once we loved each other and we're still best friends and Mary already whacked me upside the head for it, as she should have. And I didn't filter this to her for once because I want you to feel comfortable to react any way you want to without feeling like someone else is going to read it and judge. Not that she would... And you should probably expect a post from Peter too because you know him and guilt.

Argh. I'm sorry. I love you. I'll be here when you get back (unless you want me to come there because I will if you need it. I'm sure Mary will understand...) and I may have already purchased some 'I'm a shitty husband' presents that are waiting for you on our bed.

Next time I go off on some harebrained rescue mission, can you remind me that I have issues which may complicate things and until I work them out I should avoid putting myself into situations which may exacerbate my symptoms?

Holy shit, I just spoke 'Abby'.

I'm hoping you find that charming.

Are you mad...?
suave_thomas: (To the Future)
This isn't in an attempt to fool anyone that I'm writing here. Abby just thought it might be less confusing if I used my own journal. Though, I suppose, less confusing is relative...

I can't stay like this. I'm very sorry for what happened. For what I had to do. And for needing to leave. But I can't stay in my sister's head. Which is incredible by the way. Do you realise how smart she is? And all of a sudden I find I have the Physician's Desk Reference memorised and I understand it. Extraordinary...

I'm losing the point. Which is that I need to leave. After the funeral. I'll stay a few more days. I'll say goodbye.

You all know it's not forever.

Additionally, if the above is to remain true, no one can know I died unless they are in the know. You have to act like nothing happened to the people who can't understand. And I'm sorry for that. I know it's not easy. Especially for you, Spectre. But if I'm going to come back, Ashley Bigglesby has to remain well and safe and alive.
suave_thomas: (Cutesy praying)
I am so so sorry. I am STILL so so sorry. I love you. I think the world of you. Hell, my world is you.

So I got you this )

Which is sort of me looking broody, because I couldn't find a 'I'm sorry' photo on short notice. But I DID order you lots of presents which will arrive all day long tomorrow!

I keep thinking I'll be okay and then something else occurs to me. I'm not used to feeling my heart beating and it still keeps me up nights. I'm not used to having to fear...anything. Which probably made me seem much braver than I am because apparently now I am afraid of everything. And I know I don't have to fear death, because I know what it is. I was so comfortable dead. I really was. It was nice. But no one else was comfortable with it...clearly. And now I am experiencing what you all experience (you, darling, in particular) and fuck me. And I don't want to do that to anyone again and what if I miss something? And I feel torn right in two, as if I was expriencing the pain of the pull anyway. Only...this is worse. It's worse.

But hey, I'm talking, right?

I'm experiencing a midlife crisis and I only just got my life back! The last time I remember my body being alive, I was twenty-five. Now I'm thirty-nine. And does my body take into account the time I was dead, or am I actually twenty-five again, just...thirty-nine in spirit? Or do I really only have forty years left? This damn experience doesn't come with an owner's manual. And since forty years is as long as I have existed, it doesn't seem that long at all when I was looking at eternity before. And I know I'll have the eternity again but that's when it's all creepy again. And I get so tired now. And I pulled a muscle with Mary and thought I actually broke my...well anyway... And I start to obsess and worry... What if I get cancer. What if I get typoid? What if I die of consumption because I have no immune system?! And then my heart starts to beat faster and I panic because what if it's a heart attack?!

There's good things too. Like the way my heart flutters when I see you. Or the way you make me short of breath. The way I'm describing it is rather like a long jog...but you know what I mean (I hope...) My stomach jumbles itself up in fluttery little knots when I think of you and I find it rather charming. That never happened before. And I don't think I'll ever get used to it. It won't ever get old. You make me tingle all over. And in those moments, fuck I'm so glad I'm alive...

I'm sorry I couldn't say anything of this outloud. It's too hard to think when I've got racey heart and obsessy mind and panic, panic, panic, but that...all of that...that's what's going on in my head. That and I'm sorry. And I still don't think I can talk about it in person yet. I'm not really...peopley. But we can talk here. I can be good with that.

I love you.
suave_thomas: (Pouty with Candles)
It came to my attention that there's one person I haven't squared things away with yet in regards to the incident involving myself and your girlfriend.

Alessa? I'm so deeply sorry. And you by no means have to accept my apologies. I will completely understand. But I wouldn't be the kind of man I used to think I was, if I didn't face up to this and apologise to you. I'm doing it here because then you won't feel pressured to respond any which way. You can even pretend you didn't see it if you want to. But if you want to talk, I could come see you. And bring you flowers and lots of presents and an oversized stuffed teddy bear. Or something.

I fucked up, Alessa. And I'm sorry.

June 2011

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