Allison can't be surprised Diego's whole tirade from the floor shifts to making it all about himself, or that every word out of his mouth only turns it so clear that he has no clue what do with a child. Makes her wonder when the last time he was even near a child in any truly long term fashion. She's sure the answer is never. She knew, with all the thimble full of anything like a clue he had at the time she had Claire, that she'd never put Claire through any of what they went through too young.
(How wrong she was. Tragically, naively, arrogantly wrong. She'd avoided the glaringly wrong pitfalls Diego flung in her direction, but she made her own far worse ones.)
As much as she hears it, his voice, the ever familiar rapid harder and sharper sounds of it, throwing daggers at a wall, one and another and another and another, it blows in one side and out the other, easier and easier not to feel any of them as each new one hits and her gaze never once shifts toward him. He doesn't say a single thing she didn't already know or at least hadn't already guessed at time six, every month of Claire's life that involved constantly talking about The Umbrella Academy.
She doubts that any of them ever experienced that. Except Vanya, and even then, only on that book tour.
Yeah. Great. Allison shook her head and moved finally. Turning from where she was sitting, and slipping her feet, then legs down — moving to stand in a fluid, hesitation-free, motion. Her head shook, but she was walking away already. At least you all have a second planet of people to figure it out on, now that the rest of you actually realized that.
One that wasn't gone, just as much as her daughter was. This stupid, messed up, second chance of a joke place where all of the rest of them realized, only after trying to kill Vanya and just as much helping to decimate a planet, what Allison had realized before that happened. Had already said as much to Vanya, and was acting on changing, on trying to be better and transparent about.
Before it cost her a planet. Her daughter's life. Her powers. Her voice. Every single part of her life beyond the 'being alive' part of it.
no subject
(How wrong she was. Tragically, naively, arrogantly wrong.
She'd avoided the glaringly wrong pitfalls Diego flung in her direction,
but she made her own far worse ones.)
As much as she hears it, his voice, the ever familiar rapid harder and sharper sounds of it, throwing daggers at a wall, one and another and another and another, it blows in one side and out the other, easier and easier not to feel any of them as each new one hits and her gaze never once shifts toward him. He doesn't say a single thing she didn't already know or at least hadn't already guessed at time six, every month of Claire's life that involved constantly talking about The Umbrella Academy.
She doubts that any of them ever experienced that. Except Vanya, and even then, only on that book tour.
Yeah. Great. Allison shook her head and moved finally. Turning from where she was sitting, and slipping her feet, then legs down — moving to stand in a fluid, hesitation-free, motion. Her head shook, but she was walking away already. At least you all have a second planet of people to figure it out on, now that the rest of you actually realized that.
One that wasn't gone, just as much as her daughter was. This stupid, messed up, second chance of a joke place where all of the rest of them realized, only after trying to kill Vanya and just as much helping to decimate a planet, what Allison had realized before that happened. Had already said as much to Vanya, and was acting on changing, on trying to be better and transparent about.
Before it cost her a planet. Her daughter's life. Her powers. Her voice.
Every single part of her life beyond the 'being alive' part of it.