That's right ya'll, we got ourselves some more Patton angst uwu

*voice breaking* why do I DO this to myself?? *le sob*

Patton's POV:

I woke up the next morning with sunlight dripping over me and an oozing dread of what would happen today, and from what I saw of the other's faces at breakfast, they weren't doing any better. 

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and looking down at the ground. "So..." I started, not sure exactly where I'd go from there. 

Remy scuffed his foot on the floor, his eyes weary. "So today we're going to go to trial." He stretched, yawning slightly, and glanced around. "Right?"

"Yes, I believe so," Logan answered, checking his watch. "We appear to have only a few hours before we go to the courthouse. Is there anything you'd like to do in your last hours in Lakeside Valley?"

Janus muttered something under his breath. "I'm going to sstay shut in the room," he replied bluntly. "I don't want to walk around, and I can't ssee any other thing for me to do."

Emile glanced at Janus, concern in his eyes. "Did something happen?" he asked. "You can tell me."

Without a reply, Janus stood up from the table and walked back to the room, slamming the door behind him. 

I watched him go, slightly puzzled and a nervous feeling in my stomach. It's probably just nerves, I tried to reason with myself, but the anxiety didn't go away. Shaking my head, I looked back at my food, still trying to find my appetite. 

"Is... everything okay?" Roman asked Emile, raising an eyebrow. "He's been awfully quiet all morning." He glanced at the hallway leading back up to the room and bit his lip. 

Nodding quietly, Emile began to fidget with a lock of his hair. Remus began to stand up, but Emile gave him a look that clearly meant something that I didn't know, because Remus sat down with a conflicted look. 

"I just-- I don't think he wants to be in this town any longer than he has to," Emile said, looking slightly worried. He sighed, slumping in his seat, and glanced around. "This is not doing anything for my nerves."

Remy opened his mouth, about to say something, but took a look at Emile and stopped, playing a bit with his food. I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. Again, I was being left out of something, and I wanted to know what it was. 

But they sure weren't telling me, and even though I knew that something had happened between the two, something in the back of my mind whispered that it just wasn't the right time to ask. 

I pushed my food away, having taken only a few bites, and began to hum absently. "Are we going to meet up with Lia soon?" I asked, looking around at everyone.

Virgil leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. "I don't know what we'd do if we don't," he muttered. "I just..." he paused, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "I'm kind of scared."

Roman nudged him gently, smiling. "We're all scared," he reminded the other. "It's not a bad thing to be scared, you know. You've gotten us out of a lot of bullshit by being cautious." 

"I know," Virgil murmured, his eyes still downcast. 

Glancing at him, I grasped his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. He smiled thinly at me, worry plainly showing in his eyes. "Thanks, Pat," he said, quietly. I grinned back at him, feeling the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach again. 

Was it going to work?

Were we going to win?

I gazed at everyone sitting at the table, and my free hand clenched into a tight fist. I blinked back tears stubbornly and took a deep breath, pushing all my uncertainty away. I couldn't lose my focus now, I couldn't give up hope. 

We just had to keep trying. 

---

The car ride was, as usual, silent. A cold, sharp breeze blew past the window of the car, making me shiver slightly. I didn't get it, it was supposed to be summer! 

I watched an orange leaf float gently to the ground, and immediately get rolled over by a passing truck. 

Okay, well, maybe it was almost fall. 

I leaned against the window, gazing out at the scenery buzzing past in whirls of light grey buildings, faded green grass, and red-painted playgrounds. I sighed, letting myself slump against the wall of the car. 

Feeling another twinge of anxiety and doubt, I tried to push the feelings away, but I already felt myself shaking. I hated this, the way I couldn't move, the way my shoulder shook and trembled, the way every awful thought I ever had seemed to swallow me from the inside out. 

Curling slightly into myself, I let myself make a small whine, a whisper for help, a quiet plea that I knew nobody heard but myself. 

The sound faded to muffled whispers.

Why do they even keep me around?

I let out a small, hidden sob scratched through with every emotion I was feeling. 

Seriously though, what have I done to help?

What have I done that hasn't slowed us down?

What should I have done?

Taking one deep, painful breath after another, swollen with salty tears and the promise of more. 

I wanted to leave, I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream into nothingness until this feeling of helpless, useless, hopeless misery left, having carved long scars into me before it was gone. 

My brain felt as if it was being shattered, my eyes were burning with held-back tears, my vision blurry and unstable. I heard my heart beating in an unnatural rhythm, my breath torn apart in ragged gasps that only hurt to draw in. 

Then someone slammed on the brakes, and I was violently torn back to reality with a jolt of startled confusion.

"Alright, we're here," came Roman's voice, but it was subdued, quieter than normal. 

A car door opened, I'm not sure which, but someone grasped my hand and led me gently outside of the car, helping me stand as my legs shook beneath me. I rubbed away the tears blurring my sight, taking my glasses off so they didn't smear (more than they already had). 

I glanced up at Logan, who was looking at me with a patient smile. I gave him a small, trembling smile in return, tried to steady myself, and looked at the imposing courthouse. 

Immediately, echoes of the jail struck painful blows through my memory. 

Tall concrete walls, metal double doors, neatly lined windows placed evenly along each room with concise, deadly precision. 

Dark corridors, locked doors, cold air blowing from freezing metal vents in the top of the hallways. 

I swallowed, shaking my head and forcing the thoughts out. Looking around, I saw Remy standing close to Emile, his face shattered into a million different, indecipherable emotions. Then he blinked, taking a deep breath, and the fearful, panicked expression vanished into a smooth mask. 

On my other side, Virgil was trembling, his eyes narrowed but his breathing unsteady. He lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes, gritting his teeth and trying to get his shaking under control. I felt helpless to do anything, useless and worthless, and maybe I was. 

What can I do, after all?

I'm no use to anyone panicking. 

I'm no use to anyone ever. 

Feeling the thoughts clawing up my insides, I flinched, making a small, panicked whine. Logan looked down at me and I glanced up at him, my eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry," I whispered to Logan, grasping at his hand for comfort. "I'm sorry I can't do anything. I'm sorry I'm useless..."

My voice sounded weak, and tired, even to myself. I felt a tear leak out of my eye and drip down my face, making me want to scratch my eyes out just to stop myself from crying. 

Logan looked at me helplessly, his face anxious and caring. "Patton, you are doing something," he murmured. 

I squeezed my hand into a fist, digging half-moon marks into my palm. "What?" I cried, my voice finally breaking into a tangle of knotted, snarled emotions. "What am I doing that's helpful?"

I hated how I sounded, useless and high-pitched, the way it snuck up on me and pounced, digging claws of feminine, weak, pleading into me and made me realize how broken I really was. 

I hated it, I hated it, I hated everything about myself. 

"Patton, angel, listen to me," Logan said softly. 

Blinking, I glanced up at him with shining tears in my eyes. He sighed quietly, grabbing my hand and releasing my fist. I saw little crescent-moons of blood on my palm, vivid and sweet as rubies, and I felt my face falling. 

Now that I wasn't panicking, I could feel tangles of pain thrumming from my hand. I bit my lip and looked away, denial that I didn't actually believe washing through me. 

Logan brushed his hand across my bloody palm. "You're doing everything you can," he told me gently. "It would be foolish to ask more than what someone can do."

"B-but-- but what am I doing?" I asked, a sob building in my throat and my voice breaking. 

He bent down to press a kiss to my forehead, then smiled at me in a way that made me want to curl into him and cry about everything until it was all gone. 

"You're doing just enough," he murmured. "You could have stayed in Clarke, but you came. You didn't have to go to the witness stand and tell them what Remy told you when he was with Andy, but you did. You didn't have to do the things you did, but you did them wonderfully."

I shook my head silently, my eyes filling with more tears. "I don't..."

"I know," he whispered, pulling me into a hug. "Remember, eventually it will be okay."

I made a small sob, squeezing my eyes shut and letting everything come crashing down around me.