Work Text:
As we sit on the porch, lost in our own thoughts, having spoken to each other, I feel some kind of a kinship with George Sibley.
Almost..
Almost a connection of some kind.
We're both fucked up.
Damaged.
Maybe beyond repair.
Or any hope of salvation.
Our parents ruined us.
Never gave us a chance.
Decades later, we're still paying for their mistakes.
But every day is a battle we have to fight.
We're both still here.
Will we become allies?
Friends?
I don't know.
For tonight, though, it warms me knowing that I'm not the only damaged person here.
And it makes everything almost worth it.
Fin