sciencesaggressively | santa newt is coming to town

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sawyer

santa newt is coming to town

Newt has discovered that he hates shopping for babies.

It's the looks that get him, the looks and the pointing from expectant mothers and their friends who think he can't hear or see them, who are all smiling and whispering conspiratorially about how sweet it is that he's shopping for his little girl, and Newt kind of just wants to rip all his hair out so he can throw it at these women because he so wouldn't be here if he didn't have to be.

He blames Texas Ranger. Yeah, he totally blames Texas Ranger because if Sawyer hadn't had his kid dropped on his doorstep, Newt wouldn't have to be shopping for her stupidly cute little self, thus avoiding the exact kind of attention he doesn't want. Actually, if he's being honest, he maybe doesn't mind it as much as he'll definitely say he does to anyone who asks. He's got a shopping cart full of clothes for Clementine, like this snowsuit with the little ears on the hood and that super badass Batman costume that she'll definitely be thanking her Uncle Newt for one day.

He's never wanted kids, still doesn't want kids, is perfectly happy with his and Kate's decision not to have kids, but it turns out that dealing with his friends' kids isn't so bad. He thinks that's mostly because he can hand them back at the end of the day but whatever, it's fine, Newt thinks that's totally fair. In the end, he leaves the mall with nine new outfits for Clementine, three pairs of shoes, a super soft plush dinosaur that he's thinking of just keeping for himself, and a sweet leather jacket that's warm enough for the winter for Sawyer. It doesn't take that long to haul all his bounty back to Dimera, heading straight for the second floor and knocking on the door.

It's Christmastime, Newt's second in Darrow, and he's glad to share in it when he remembers that for a long, long time, the holidays had stopped being on people's radar. It's hard to think about gift giving when any day could bring more death and destruction to the world, he supposes, but he's here now. He's here, he's married, he's happy, and he's ready to spread a little bit of Christmas fucking cheer.

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One of the nice and completely unexpected benefits to having a kid is how much easier it is to get out of certain types of commitments. Sorry, can't make that work outing; got a kid at home who needs looking after. Or, sorry, can't make your missus' party, don't think Clementine would get along with wine glasses and fine china. It's convenient as hell to turn everyone towards visiting him instead, and the amount of energy that he saves on shuttling to and fro in the city leaves Sawyer in a pretty decent mood, all things considered, this holiday season.

Helps that Clementine's able to help herself a bit, too. He still has to feed her, change her diapers, do everything parents are meant to do, but now that Clementine's on her feet and easily zooming around the apartment, she's also able to make it pretty clear what she's after. Sawyer knows a lot of people will warn about how rowdy kids get after they learn how to talk, but frankly, he can't wait for that day to come, when he'll stop being able to rely on guesswork to tend to his daughter.

The past couple of days, Clementine's insisted on wearing some of the holiday-themed clothes Sawyer purchased for her. Namely, she won't let go of the fluffy Santa hat and red tutu he bought about a week back, using both hands to cling to the white fluff as she stumbles around. When the knock sounds on the door, Clementine shrieks, and nearly falls on her butt right in the middle of the living room. With a snort, Sawyer reaches over to pick her up, placing her on his hip before making his way over to the door.

Spotting Newt through the peephole, Sawyer roars with laughter and opens the door, stepping aside to let him in.

"Well, look who decided to visit," he remarks with a grin. Clementine's expression lights up immediately, and she throws both arms open in Newt's direction.

"New!" she smiles, hat drooping slightly down her forehead. "New-new!"

"Come on in. Christ, looks like you sure went to town at the mall. All of that for me?" Sawyer jokes, before reaching under the small, LED-lit tree in the corner of his living room for a small, but prettily wrapped box. Something about the sunglasses inside had screamed Newt for one reason or another. "Makes me feel a little self-conscious, forkin' over such a small box."

That Clementine calls him 'New' is grossly adorable, and Newt tries so very hard to keep an uncompromising look on his face, but it's insanely difficult to do that when there's a little girl in a Santa hat holding her arms out to him. The bravado drops the second he drops his shopping bags and reaches for her, taking holds of her hands as she squeals with delight, and a wide grin creases the corners of his eyes as he laughs and gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Look at Santa's little helper," he coos, flicking the pompom of the hat before shooting Sawyer a wink. "Dude, she looks crazy cute, I don't see how this is fair. Did you know I was coming, did you purposely put her in this hat and that tutu just to see me melt at the hands of a tiny human? You're the worst kind of friend."

He grabs hold of the bags again and follows Sawyer into the living room, making silly faces at Clementine all the while as she laughs at him over her father's shoulder. Newt doesn't get much exposure to kids, mostly because he doesn't want the exposure, but he digs Clementine's baby energy. She's going to grow up to be a sass queen, Newt's pretty damn certain of that, but it only means that she'll be one step ahead of everyone else. That's how Newt feels sometimes, like he's moved on to a completely different subject when the person he's talking to is still ten paces back, but he's learned to deal with it because he doesn't have a choice. He's the asshole if he drops a topic that's going nowhere but whatever, landing in Darrow had given him the chance to better figure out who's willing to stick with him and who isn't, and he likes that. He likes that he can get a better picture of what people think of him here.

"This is totally all for you, dude, it's been my dream ever since we met in that bar the first time to see you in a baby-sized dress," Newt answers, eagerly holding his bags out to Sawyer in exchange for the box. "And look, if it's a small box, I can only assume you're proposing. If that's the case, we're just going to have to call up Kate real quick, explain the situation, let her know that sharing me isn't as big a deal as it sounds. What do you think, alternating weekends? That's a good place to start, I think."

Though Sawyer likes to think of himself as far from being the most sentimental parent around, he can't help the swell of emotion that he feels upon seeing Clementine excitedly interacting with Newt, nor does he ever stop being grateful for the fact that the two of them get along so well together. Or the fact that on the whole, his friends have been supportive of his shift from reckless bachelor to actually-kind-of-competent father, a transformation that's certainly whittled down on his free time and social life.

He doesn't have much time to dwell on the thought before Clementine ends up interrupting his thoughts with a bright laugh, pushing up Newt's glasses a touch before she ends up resting a hand against his beard instead. Knowing that she's the center of attention, Clementine smiles coyly at both of the men, then leans forward to press a kiss — or, in true baby fashion, more of a headbutt with lips first — against Newt's cheek.

"You know what? She actually picked out both of those things herself. I took her to see one of the Santas at the mall, and wouldn't you know it, she ain't got too much interest in the guy. It's all about what he wears, instead. So then she fusses until I take her to a toy store, and she walks around fast enough to get into this basket of Santa hats, one in each hand. I didn't have the heart to fight it," Sawyer chuckles, making his way over to the kitchen with Clementine clinging thoughtfully to his shoulder. "Between your influence and Kate's, I'm pretty sure this one's gonna grow up into quite the fashionista."

Bending over to let Clementine down, Sawyer watches as she tears as fast as she can towards the living room, patting the armrest of the couch and looking expectantly at Newt. Reaching for Newt's boxes, he sets them down on the kitchen counter, then turns to the cabinets with a grin. "Anyway, if you're hopin' to be responsible for my first time wearing a dress, I'm afraid that honor went to someone else. But, I can't say I've ever worn a wedding dress. That photoshoot might put all of y'all to shame," he grins, pulling out a couple of glasses and a sippy cup. "Make it alternating weekends and Fridays, and I think you've got yourself a deal. You want something to drink?"

Okay.

So it turns out that maybe baby kisses are not the actual worst thing in the world. Newt will never, ever, ever, never admit that out loud--never mind the fact that he's totally the best uncle of all time and will definitely admit to that--but he's pretty sure he looks disturbingly like a cartoon character right now with his wobbly bottom lip and eyes that just have dust in them because those aren't tears, they aren't.

He lifts his eyes to the ceiling, just to blink that dust away, and clears his throat before he looks back at Sawyer with a short laugh. Newt's not surprised that Clementine hadn't given much of a shit about Santa, she's way too smart to deal with that noise, and Kate would be so stoked to hear that Clementine's totally focused on the fashion thing. Or maybe it's just the Christmas thing but whatever, Newt can twist it enough to get it his way. "Yeah, dude, I'm like... I don't know, the male supermodel equivalent of Heidi Klum in the science world. If we had those yearbook superlatives at Darrow Amalgamated, I would definitely be Best Dressed. Also Coolest. Most Badass. Best Personality and Sense of Humor and also Husband. Not that I'd brag about it."

He'd definitely brag about it and now that he's thinking about all the awards he could win, Newt wonders if maybe he should introduce that to the lab. Which is beside the point, he's realizing, and he doesn't even know if a point had really existed in the first place but there's a present in his hand so he focuses on that instead and rips the paper open with all the patience of a-- well, okay, Clementine might actually have more patience than he does but whatever. His grin only widens when he sees the sunglasses. "Dude, these are so my style! Thanks, man, I'm going to be tearing up the city in these babies!"

He pulls his own glasses off, which pretty much renders him blind but that's okay because the sunglasses are badass. "This definitely earns you Fridays, Kate's just going to have to deal." He nearly asks for a beer but a hard squint at the sippy cup changes his mind, and he switches back to his regular glasses with a shrug. "Whatever you've got, unless your spiking her juice with something a little more exciting these days."

"I hope you've got a pair of contacts somewhere, unless by tearin' up the city, you meant literally. Though I think the city might tear you up first," Sawyer admits, squinting over at Newt for a moment, trying to imagine how he'd take the city down. Would probably need one of those pet kaiju or whatever the hell the word was. (Even after knowing Newt for so long and having been lectured on the things more than once, Sawyer has to admit that he's pretty sure he can't even list five things he knows about them. He'd probably be better off if he were handed a textbook.)

"I thought about getting you prescription, but didn't know how to ask without it giving away the present. Guess I'm just that kinda asshole who'd rather give a real surprise than a present that's thoughtful," grins Sawyer, peering in his fridge at the drinks he has available. For a second, he's almost tempted to pour Newt a glass of milk, but he's got enough experience with offering people lactose to know it's not a good idea unless absolutely necessary.

Pulling out a carton of enriched soy milk for Clementine — her favorite, slightly sweeter than cow's milk — and a tall bottle of hard cider to share with Newt, Sawyer pours each drink in quick succession.

"I actually don't give Cleo a lotta juice. Way too much sugar. Can you imagine," he glances up with a snort, "me actually being responsible about food? I used to clear out a six pack of beer every couple of days before she got here. Now it takes me a couple of months. Don't even recognize myself anymore."

Balancing the sippy cup and the glasses easily in his hands, a much appreciated skill learned after months at the parenting thing, Sawyer holds out a glass for Newt.

"I have 'em, I just don't ever wear them because glasses are way more badass, dude. That's a scientific fact." Also, putting on contacts means having like, seven less seconds in bed with Kate in the morning, and he's just not down with that. Maybe he can deal with it for for these sunnies, though, he thinks Kate would back him once in awhile in the name of looking like he could kick some ass and take some names.

Apparently, he doesn't look like that all on his own, which is total bullshit because maybe he's not the tallest guy in Darrow, but he's scrappy as hell. Or at least, he totally would have been in that bar fight back when he'd first gotten to the city if that dickhead hadn't punched first. He still stands by his claim that the fight hadn't been his fault, no matter what Owen and Chuck try to say.

He tilts his head as he watches Sawyer pour the milk into Clementine's cup, shrugging a shoulder at the somewhat self-deprecating comment about responsibility. "I can imagine, actually. I mean, aside from watching you actually, y'know, be responsible about it. You give a shi--" He cuts himself off, eyes widening as he scans the room for Clementine and relaxing when he sees that she's not paying them much attention because she hasn't seen her full sippy cup yet. He keeps his eyes on her even as he takes one of the glasses of cider from Sawyer, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You care, is what I'm trying to say. You're a good friend, you kind of take care of me sometimes." He rolls his eyes fondly, a default reaction to himself getting kind of mushy, and takes a drink of his cider before continuing. "Doesn't surprise me that you'd be a good dad, okay, maybe I should start calling you daddy, too. No, wait, scratch that, might get weird."

A few years ago, Newt's assessment of Sawyer would have felt completely implausible. A good friend? Taking care of others? Some part of Sawyer might argue that the only reason why he didn't get around to any of that was because he didn't have the luxury of caring for anyone other than himself — but the greater truth is that he never wanted to put in the effort. People were unreliable, unpredictable, and downright cruel. The only way to avoid being constantly shortchanged because of it was to join in the activity.

Or at least, so Sawyer thought.

It's been a while since he last was that cold and calculating, and these days, the smiles he wears are genuine more often than derisive. Still, being called a good friend only pulls Sawyer's memories back to the first time he'd really had someone believe that deeply in him. Someone who didn't treat him like some jerk who needed to be fixed, but instead like a person who'd simply been wearing the wolfskin for far too long.

He's pretty sure that the way he is with Clementine and Flavia wouldn't surprise Juliet at all.

"You know, I'm pretty sure you're just a barnacle who hangs on until someone has to take care of you, or otherwise risk your life weighing on their conscience forever," he remarks, crouching when Clementine suddenly rushes over, tutu bobbing through her run as she reaches out for her cup. "You start callin' me daddy though, and I will spank you. And not in the sexy way."

Cleo sits herself down on the floor, sipping from her cup while she stares at the pair.

"Oh, and don't worry about swearing in front of her. Not like she understands. And not like swearing has ever broken a kid."

"Hey, I can take care of myself just fine," Newt argues, puffing his chest out even though that's dangerously close to being completely untrue. He's only recently started to realize that over the years, the only reason he hadn't dropped dead from lack of sleep and way too much caffeine is because Hermann had very quietly kept him in line. Even Pentecost had issued the occasional order for Newt to stop whatever the hell he'd been working on to get some rest, if only to keep him from falling over and destroying something very expensive and irreplaceable--which Newt would always argue was impossible because he'd be able to recreate it with a few pieces of junk that he definitely wouldn't have to break protocol to retrieve.

Here, he knows he'd be a hell of a lot worse off if he hadn't had Kate and his friends to have his back after all the shit that's happened. Kate had caught him trying to balance himself on a chair to change a light bulb after he'd been hit by that car once, and he remembers the look on her face very clearly because she'd been simultaneously pissed the fuck off and stunned in silence for almost a full thirty seconds, presumably because of how stupid he'd been for doing it without help. He hates being coddled, absolutely hates it because in spite of the fact that he'd been forced to grow up so quickly that he'd barely grown up at all, Newt's always been able to hold his own.

Being bullied as a pre-teen in high school had helped with that, starting college at fifteen even more so, and Newt gets how this works. He understands that maybe he's a little more reckless and irresponsible than he should be but at the same time, he usually knows what he's doing. Even so, he supposes the fact that he has enough friends who get as exasperated as his own do is a comforting thing. There hadn't been an abundance of people who'd cared all that much about what might happen to him back home but in Darrow, he's found a solid group of people he can count on and even though he might not say it out loud--at least, not while sober--it means way more to him than he would have expected.

"Joke's on you, by the way, there is no way to spank but in the sexy way. Remember that when you try to bend me over your knee, buddy, I'm just saying."

Newt lowers himself to the floor next to Clementine, plucking at her tutu with an amused smile. "Seriously, though, and take this to the grave? If Kate and I did have a kid, I'd totally want it to be a girl."

"No one can take care of themselves all the time," Sawyer counters quietly, trying not to make too big a deal out of the statement. He knows that it can be easily turned on him — can be used to point out all the times when Sawyer unhelpfully pushed other people away with no regard for his own well-being. Ironically, having other people who are dependent on him has made Sawyer more open to receiving support. He can swallow his pride and suspicion if it's for Clementine's sake, or Flavia and Ophelia's. There are times when he still tries to put up a front, act like nothing's changed since he truly became a father, but Sawyer knows that's not true.

He grins as he watches Newt settle down on the floor next to Clementine. It's hard to tell which one of them has more energy and curiosity for life, and Sawyer feels a little old and worn by comparison. There are worse things, though.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Sawyer watches as Clementine lets out a little whine when Newt messes with her tutu. She places her sippy cup gently on the ground, before leaning forward and nearly rolling over in an effort to pin Newt's hand down.

"Girls are a hell of a lot cuter than boys, I'll tell you that. Hell, I wasn't even with Clementine's mom when she was born, and my memory of her ain't as sharp as it used to be, but I still think Clementine's the cutest thing ever. I can only imagine how you'd end up feelin' about a mini-Kate running around everywhere, sassin' everyone she meets," Sawyer agrees, taking a swig out of his bottle. "I know not everyone wants to do the whole kid thing, though. You're pretty set on not, right? And Kate even more so?"

There's more to watch Sawyer says than he's actually saying, Newt can hear it in his friend's tone and hell, it's the truth. It makes him think of Hermann, of hooking himself up to the neural bridge on what basically would have been a suicide mission if his lab partner hadn't stepped in to offer his help. They'd carried that burden together, they'd been Drift compatible, which ultimately hadn't surprised him at all because after a decade of working together, of course he'd put his trust in Hermann. Even if he wouldn't have admitted it out loud to the guy like, ever.

It's hard to dwell on thoughts of his old life when there's a ridiculously cute little girl trying to stop him from playing with her tutu, though. He plucks at it again, laughing softly at the way she looks up at him with a frown and a frustrated huff. He lets her put her hand on his this time, feigning distress as he leans in to give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "You got me, you got me, what do I do now?" he whines, and Clementine lets out a squeal of delight.

"She likes to cause me pain," Newt teases, glancing back up at Sawyer with a wide grin. "She really is just like you. And uh, yeah, no, we're definitely set on the not having kids thing." When Kate had thought she'd gotten pregnant after Mardi Gras, they'd come to the agreement together that they wouldn't go through with having the baby if it turned out she was. Neither of them are ready to shoulder that kind of responsibility, neither of them are trying to be ready for that, and most of the time, Newt's just awkward and uncomfortable around kids anyway because he doesn't know how to talk to them or act around them or anything around them. "I mean, a mini-Kate does sound cute, but I think I'd rather settle for seeing baby picture of her than having an actual baby of our own. Besides, why have kids when I can just come over here and see yours? It works out just fine."

"You only say that 'cause you don't know her mother," Sawyer counters, though he can't help the surge of pride that he feels upon hearing the suggestion that Clementine might take after him. Even though Sawyer's pretty sure that she'd be better off taking after Cassidy, he can't deny that there are times when he looks for hints of himself in his daughter. It's not vanity. Instead, it's the disbelief that remains lodged in his chest over the fact that he managed to help create a child so perfect.

It doesn't seem possible for someone as flawed as he is to produce a person so good and loving.

He grins as Clementine raises a hand to smack squarely in the center of Newt's face, little fingers poking around his nose. "I gotta admit, my kid is pretty great. I don't think I'd be able to tolerate anyone else's kids half as well, so it's good that you ain't makin' any. Means you can devote all your attention to my little brat," he snickers, reaching out to ruffle Clementine's hair lightly. "I get it, though. Ain't everyone meant to have kids. I... you know, back home, I didn't think I'd ever really be in Clementine's life. I thought about goin' to see her once, when I was just about to get myself off of the damn island I was stuck on, but I chickened out. I can pretend that I turned back to give other folks a better chance of making it off, but no. I didn't know how I'd be able to head back to the States and deal with having the choice of seeing her or not. And then later..."

He pauses, gaze dropping as his smile fades. "Well, let's just say that I was with someone who would've made a terrific mother, but it didn't work out. If Darrow hadn't pulled this one over, I don't think I ever would've really tried for kids."

Newt lets what Sawyer says marinate for a moment, having very uncharacteristically remained silent throughout the whole story because honestly, he's never thought much about why he doesn't want kids, he just knows that never has. "Y'know, when the first kaiju came out of the water in L.A., it fucked things up royally but it was kind of just a crazy ass thing that happened, something that wasn't ever supposed to happen again. Then the second one came, then the third and the fourth and eventually, everything just kind of went to shit."

He hadn't paid much attention to the people, really, his interest and focus had always been with the kaiju and maybe that's why it'd made it that much easier for people to mistake his fascination with the creatures for some sick and twisted admiration. He'd decorated his body with images of them, after all, had practically transformed himself into a walking shrine for the things that had killed so many people's families and destroyed so many cities and if they couldn't take their frustrations out on the kaiju, Newt would have been the next best thing.

But he still hadn't cared, not really. He appreciates all the friends he's made here, has never known friendships like the ones he has now before, but he hadn't joined the PPDC to make friends. He'd joined it to find a way to save the world because he'd firmly believed that he could--and he had, he fucking had, but it'd taken nearly a decade of watching more destruction and tragedy. How could he have wanted to bring a kid into that? There's no way, and he knows it's different here. The skin lice had been one thing but Newt highly doubts that there's going to be any kaiju popping up from under the boardwalk anytime soon. Still, the thought of having a kid here, trapped by invisible forces that nobody can even actually explain doesn't quite sit well with him. Whether it does for anyone else doesn't matter, people with different opinions do actually exist even if Newt sometimes refuses to acknowledge that, but he just knows it's not some he'd want.

"I guess I just figure that no matter where you are or where you're from or where you go, there's something you'll want to protect your kid from but at the same time, you can never protect everyone from everything. Last year, That Night? I couldn't even protect myself, and I wasn't even fucking doing anything, all I did was step outside for a breath of fresh air and--" He cuts himself off, sighing heavily as he wipes at the slight perspiration that's formed on his brow. He doesn't get as worked up thinking about what had happened anymore but sometimes... Sometimes it just hits him.

"Anyway," he continues, glancing at Clementine who is staring at him curiously before meeting Sawyer's gaze and offering a wide smile, though it's not as genuine as it could be. "Like you said, I can devote my attention to Clementine and at the end of the day, I can hand her right back to you. That's the way to go, at least for someone like me."

Perhaps the most difficult thing about watching Newt parse through his thoughts is the fact that Sawyer can empathize. Almost wholly, he's pretty sure. Because he's watched his own life spiral out of control time and time again, and as hard as that had been at the time, it was infinitely worse once the chaos spread to the rest of the people he cared for. It was worse when the faces who disappeared and the lives that were extinguished were people Sawyer knew. People Sawyer would have picked to stay around longer than he'd managed to. A weight on his chest wouldn't be quite accurate — no, every better person who passed away before Sawyer did remains on his skin like an invisible brand. Rarely does Sawyer show any sign that he thinks about them at all; he walks straight, chin up, no weight on his shoulders like some of the cliches might have people believe. The mark is far less noticeable than that.

It's something that doesn't belong, and sometimes it wakes him in a jolt of fear, like looking into the reflection of a mirror and not recognizing who's on the other side.

There are days when Sawyer still isn't sure who he is, or where he's woken up. The world's never given him a great anchor, he thinks. Never one that he could hold to like a lifeline.

"There was a time when I felt that about everyone," he says quietly, trying his best to stop his hands from shaking, though a tremble escapes them here and there. "Like... there wasn't really a way to protect everyone at all times, so what was the damn point in gettin' to know anyone at all? People would disappear. If you were lucky, they'd disappear quietly, peacefully, in their sleep or some crap like that. But you're not gonna be lucky all the time. I lost my parents when I was a kid. Mom fell for a con man. Dad found out and shot her, then shot himself. And hell, the people I lost just as violently as that, I can't even count them on both hands."

Sawyer raises his hand, trying to rub at his forehead, though the shake of his fingers makes it hard to find purchase against his skin.

"I know you've seen shit that's a whole lot bigger than anything I did. But it kept happenin'. It was never all at once. You'd think that you'd seen the worst of it, and the next time, it's twice as horrifyin'," he says, eyes feeling dry as he keeps his gaze on his daughter. "I'm scared every day, Newt. Can't count to you how many times I wake up in cold sweat, probably same as you. And there ain't a day when having Clementine around doesn't scare me as much as it makes me happy."

One thing Newt's learned since landing his ass in Darrow is that it doesn't matter how big the shit anyone's seen is, it still seems like nearly everyone who's ended up here has been fucked up in some way or another. He knows Kate's been through some heavy stuff on that island she'd been on before she'd woken up here but even back in Kansas, her life hadn't exactly been easy. It hadn't been simple, it hadn't even been all that desirable, but the point is that they've helped each other get past the only things they've ever known. It's not like Newt's exactly glad that he lives in a city he can't even leave, that he'd been brought here against his will, but in a lot of ways, the people he's met since coming here have made him better.

He wouldn't have cared a year and a half ago. He'd have been too busy trying to figure out how the kaiju tick to give a damn about taking the time to get to know anyone or making sure that the person he loves knows for sure every single day that he loves her or just sitting on the floor of a friend's apartment so he can play with his baby daughter. None of that would have mattered to him at all, the kaiju attacks had been tragic but fascinating because there hadn't even really been any close enough to him to worry about, and that's what the truth comes down to in the end. His closest friend had been his lab partner and sometimes, Newt hadn't even been convinced that they really liked each other all that much.

"I didn't know that stuff," Newt mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor. Clementine's gone quiet, like she can sense that there's some kind of tension, and he forces himself to look up at her and smile because he's pretty sure that as much as he wouldn't want to have one, babies are way more in tune with the world than adults give them credit for. What he'd thought before is true, they're all fucked up, and it's all they can really do to keep the innocent ones from suffering the same fate.

"Sometimes it's just like, what if Kate's the one who'd gone outside and not me, y'know? Or anyone else who'd been at the bar that night, what if it'd been one of them and they weren't as lucky as me?" Maybe lucky isn't quite the right word but he's here, he's breathing, he's freakin' alive when maybe he shouldn't be because he's pretty sure he's used up most of his lives by now. "But I guess there's no use thinking that way. I used to get kind of freaked by the idea of waking up to her just gone, just like, disappeared from the city but that's no way to live. We just have to make the most of what we have while we have it, right?"

Sawyer waves his hand dismissively when Newt points out that he had never known that part of Sawyer's past. He's not here to make Newt feel miserable. He's not here to make Newt feel sorry for him, because pity doesn't help — if anything, it just makes things worse, like filling a room with the water that'll eventually drown them. Pity is heavy. Pity piles up in its weight. All that Sawyer wants is the ability for them to have some common ground between their lives, otherwise as different as night and day.

The one commonality all people have is finding out, at some point in their lives, that life sucks.

"I ain't tryin' to get you down by mentioning all of that. It is... what it is," Sawyer concludes with a sigh. Some parts of his history are easier to swallow than others. Some things, he knows he couldn't have changed the course of. Others, he still feels responsible for. But maybe that's a conversation for a different day. "Anyway, you hit it on the head. Can't go 'round assuming that everything's gonna turn out the worst possible way, otherwise it all turns into a damn self-fulfilling prophecy. You'll stop yourself from livin' life out as much as you can. The way I figure, some stuff... some stuff we're a hell of a lot luckier about already than most people in the world. And I say that even though I ain't much of a glass half full person."

After staring for a few seconds, Clementine smiles again, forgoing her newly acquired skill of walking and choosing instead to crawl over to Newt, climbing onto his lap as well as she can.

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