18. » spam

[tolaywaste]

[Alex is praying. He's in the chapel with his head bowed, like he's been since just after lunch, and he thinks he's gonna stay until dinner. It probably won't help in the grand scheme of things, but it's quiet here, and that's what he wants. Space to think. Or feel, maybe.]

[He woke up to a flood that drew the very worst memories of his life out of him, laid them on display for anyone at all to see, and now that the smoke is clearing he finds himself in mourning again. It's unexpected how much he misses Pietro, like a sharp pain between his ribs. He wasn't a brother, wasn't important in the same way that Ben or Sean or Armando are, but he was - is - important. He understood things implicitly, things about family that Alex doesn't like to explain.]

[So Alex isn't sure what he's praying for, exactly, other than Pietro's safety. Maybe his, maybe Anya's, maybe nothing in particular. All he knows for sure is he doesn't want to leave.]

Comments

[youwillgotohell]

[She comes later, straight from the CES; she still smells of moss and streams and dirt, in a not wholly unpleasant way.

The chapel isn't some place she's been in often. The only religion she's held dear is the Old Religion, and it was always so much more than belief. The chapel is no place to celebrate her magic, but it doesn't feel alienating, either. She doesn't know how to feel, here, not precisely.

She only pauses briefly when she enters, then makes her way to Alex's side, sitting silently beside him.]

[tolaywaste]

[When she arrives, when she sits by him, a comforting presence at his side, he realizes he's not sure exactly why he called her. Just that they're both grieving, and he doesn't want to be grieving alone. Maybe she does. He doesn't know.]

[Even if she does - he doesn't care, right now. He's capable in this one moment in time of being selfish.]

[His head's bowed, still, but he glances sideways at her after a moment, after he's reached a place that he feels like maybe he can stop.]

I'm sorry.

[youwillgotohell]

[She leans back, directly opposite of his bowed head. She stares ahead, not defiantly, but feeling as though maybe she ought to be. It doesn't make hearing the apology any easier, and her head droops a little with it. Bows.]

Why are you here?

[tolaywaste]

Pietro's gone.

[Which doesn't tell much of a story, or maybe it does. Because his voice sounds kind of hollow. He's lost so many people. He isn't trying to upset her. He just wants her to know she's - she's not alone, in being alone.]

[youwillgotohell]

[It's not the words; it's the tone. For a while she says nothing, then she turns her head just enough to look at him.]

I'm sorry.

[permutates]

[ She has dark hair, almost black, and green-tinted skin. Just barely green: pale enough that it wouldn't be seen in dim light. It's visible here.

She slides onto the bench next to him. ]

Can I give you a hug?

[tolaywaste]

[He chews the inside of his lip fiercely and doesn't turn to look at her. If he does, he knows he'll do something that makes him look weak, and he just can't handle that right now.]

[Instead, he nods just slightly.]

[permutates]

[ She hugs him from kind of behind him, arms wrapping around his chest so he doesn't have to hug her back. Chin on his shoulder. ]

I'm sorry. I know a lot of people left. I don't know what they all meant to you.

[tolaywaste]

Oliver and Cass and Jean and Pietro.

[Oliver he's more or less grieved for. Cass has better people than him to grieve for her. Jean - she said in her post that she was coming back, he has to trust her on that. But Pietro. That he wasn't ready for. No way.]

[He leans against her, just slightly.]

You never talked to Pietro, I bet. He didn't really like - talking to people.

[Except me, he thinks. Except me. He liked talking to me.]

[permutates]

Wasn't he one of the ones in a coma?

[ She's not sure she ever remembers seeing him awake, actually. Maybe she did, the early weeks are still kind of a blur. So much new to adjust to. ]

Jean's coming back.

[warisart]

[Today is Riddick's turn to take the lunch shift, so Ben has been using it to get some other things done. Things are not going smoothly, but no one has died yet, and he's willing enough to take that as a victory. He's able to trust Riddick to call for him if things go wrong, and takes the time instead to check up on the people he calls his.

Alex is in the chapel, and Ben finds him there eventually, but he doesn't go in. Not at first.

It's when he's still there an hour before Ben needs to report for dinner preparation that the transgenic takes a deep breath and slips through the door. They've never talked about religion, of course, at least not on Alex's side and Ben abruptly feels somewhat guilty for that. Still, he's been watching nonetheless and Alex does not come here as a rule. He's seen no religious markers in Alex's room, and he's been there several times. He's followed his public exchanges, and seen no mention. So in summary, it's strange, and telling even if Ben isn't exactly certain of the cause.

He's not certain if his friend wants company, but he does know that Alex withdraws when he shouldn't, when he's hurting and needs other people, he still withdraws. So he perches lightly on a pew behind him, and waits, eyes unfocused out past his shoulder.]

Alex. [He says the name quietly, halfway between wanting to be heard and afraid of being noticed. He doesn't like it in here but he doesn't like the idea of Alex being alone even less. He's not at all surprised when Alex doesn't react: he appears to be thinking very hard about something. Withdrawing.

Ben doesn't hesitate, then, but the reach of his arm is still cautious. His fingertips are gentle in their first contact with Alex's shoulder but, a moment later, he lays his entire hand there instead and waits, watching the side of the mutant's face he can see.]

[tolaywaste]

[Alex doesn't realize Ben's there at first, doesn't hear his name called so quietly, the gentlest anyone's ever said his name in all his life, probably. But something in him acknowledges his friend's presence and relaxes. It's barely perceptible - something in the set of his shoulders, maybe - but it's there, and if anyone might notice, it's Ben.]

[There's something about the X5's presence that's very particular, too. He doesn't project calm, exactly, but a cousin of it. Security, or peace with the knowledge that it's only ever temporary. His eyes close for the space of a restorative breath, then blink open abruptly at the touch.]

[Facts filter into his conscious mind ever so slowly as he remembers where he is, then, one by one: Ben is here. Has been here, who knows how long. Has his hand on Alex's shoulder.]

[That tells Alex this is real, this is happening, everything in him and outside of him is true and can't be scrubbed away by avoiding it. Worse: that Ben is worried, that he's made Ben upset by running, like he does. And if there's anything he doesn't want to do, Jesus Christ, it's hurt Ben ever again, because isn't it clear he's been hurt enough?]

[He looks up, just briefly, beseeching, pleading - then bows his head and breathes out. His hand comes up to cover Ben's, but he doesn't look back. Doesn't need to.]

Thanks.

[Hoarse, tired, broken. But grateful, truly.]

[warisart]

[There is an undercurrent here, one Ben is barely familiar with enough in context to identify, but he is very familiar with Alex. He's watched his friend much more closely than anyone knows, studied him, learned him, and there is an extensive list of tells and cues, signals and definitions, from which to pull in this one, specific set of parameters. He can't identify guilt reliably in others. He knows exactly what it looks like in Alex Summers.

Ben does notice, and it's this in part that makes him certain he's made the right decision, even if it wouldn't be the right decision with the roles reversed. Alex takes comfort from touch. Ben leaves his hand there, even when Alex reaches up and he wants to withdraw, he stays there.

A moment later, he squeezes gently and leans forward without rising from his seat. His voice is low, intent and deliberate.]

Alex. You must forgive yourself. [He thinks, then, of another conversation and another line in the translation for this friendship between them, the understanding it's brought him. Limited but, in this case, enough; Ben leans on it because abruptly, it makes too much sense to ignore, fingers tightening on Alex's shoulder.] I won't allow you to continue to punish yourself for what isn't your fault.

[tolaywaste]

[He's not letting go. Ben isn't letting go, it's serious, Ben doesn't like touch, he'd be moving away if this wasn't serious. If he wasn't scared.]

[Even in the midst of everything, Alex feels fierce pride in his friend, bright and burning in the center of his heart. He would never have spoken like this even months ago, would never have been so assertive, would never have demanded anything. Alex remembers the first time Ben did demand something of him, told him to stop, to behave responsibly. That he could do. But this - this is asking so much.]

[He doesn't know if he's punishing himself. He probably is - he does that, he knows, and he remembers like a distant dream what Ben is speaking of now, the words of someone who used to be him and still halfway is. It's punishment. This, maybe, is redemption.]

[His shoulders tremble. He loves this boy like family, like a brother, wishes he could do more and be better for him, but this is all he is: broken and sad, small and weak.]

I miss them.

[I miss them; he misses everyone who's gone and left him. He misses Angel, though he's angry with her. Misses Haley, whom he left, even though he didn't meant to. And he's terrified that he's going to have to miss Erik again soon. That he'll leave and everything will go back to how it was. They won't be family.]

[His family is falling apart.]

[He laughs like he's drowning, a choked and liquid laugh, and doesn't let go of Ben's hand in case he falls away.]

I miss them all so much, I don't . . .

[warisart]

[Ben, he would contend - as he would contend his fragility, that he is so broken that he can withstand no more damage when it is in fact the opposite: he can withstand any amount of damage now because he is broken - is only asking so much because he knows without question that Alex is equal to the task. That he can master this, the negative side to his gift - his real gift, not the one that destroys anything that stands before him. To caring, deeply and inexorably.

That makes him think he needs redemption from being unable to control every aspect of life and consequence and happenstance. To make him punish himself for not being a god.

Ben feels the tremor beneath his palm and, finally standing, he climbs the pew to lower himself, cross-legged and facing Alex, into the pew next to him without pulling his hand free of Alex's.]

I know.

[It's not an empty consolation; Ben knows. Better, perhaps, than anyone who isn't Alex could, Ben knows about missing his family, about people who have left him, people who are angry with him and with whom he is angry, people who don't trust him anymore and never will again. He knows about being powerless to stop it and powerless to stop it from hurting him and powerless to help anyone. Ben knows.]

You don't have to know what to do. You don't have to stop missing them. But you must not let it consume you. You must not allow it to break you.

[wecanavenge]

[He doesn't look in here often. He's about as religious as Alex is, probably, maybe less; he stopped believing a long time ago.

Maybe that isn't true; maybe he just believes more cautiously, now.

It's happenstance that makes him glance in, but when he sees Alex he pauses, standing in the doorway. He's slow to act, but once he decides to stay, there is no moving him. Erik walks in, hands in his pockets, and stands in the aisle beside Alex's pew, looking around. Giving him space.]

Can't remember the last time I stood in here.

[tolaywaste]

[When he straightens up from the pew, it's a delayed response, the slow arch of his spine; were Erik standing in front of him, he might recognize it as the same awakening he's seen once before, in a dark room with hands clenched and head bowed, a room with one very small window and one very small bed. But he's not, so maybe there's a different statement made by his shoulders than his eyes. Which just look tired.]

I think I was - maybe eleven.

[After that, they couldn't make him go anymore.]

[wecanavenge]

[The chapel is non-denominational, which Erik appreciates, but it's also...blank, in a way. A clean, white space, yes, and he's never been very religious - not in years, anyway - but it strikes him as empty, now.]

Have you ever been in a synagogue? [He glances at Alex, sees just the tail end of that awakening, and it pulls at him, but he doesn't make the connection yet. He heads for the dais instead, stops where a pulpit would be. He nods to the wall.]

There would be an eternal light hanging just here, over the Ark.

[tolaywaste]

[He shakes his head, a mute no. He would like to, he realizes suddenly. Would like to know that part of Erik's life, the part that was taken from him. Because he's important in the same way, but the opposite way, that Charles is. Alex won't say it, but they both know it's true.]

[He only knows in broad strokes what the eternal light is, its purpose in ceremony. But he thinks Erik will tell him, or at least indicate enough that he might know. His eyes brighten slightly, intent as a child's.]

[wecanavenge]

[Erik nods once, looking around like he's seeing a different building, filling in the details. Memories he hasn't considered in a long time. He's half turned toward the dais, painting the picture without turning his back to Alex. He gestures with one hand.]

The Ark would be here. When I was a boy, there were only one Torah inside, but I've heard of temples keeping more. Five at least. and they'd be dressed - with a velvet cord to keep the scroll together, a matching dress to protect the parchment, and a crown.

[It's a stunning sight in his memory, even in the poor little synagogue he attended as a child. It was destroyed on Kristallnacht, the Torah burned.]

And the eternal light-- [He breaks off for a moment, lowers his head and smiles just a little ruefully.] It hangs over the Ark, a reminder of God's eternal presence.

[There's a wryness in his tone; he misses the culture of his childhood, appreciates it, but he doesn't believe anymore.]

[breathoflight]

[Snow often visits the chapel herself and is on one of those regular visits when she finds Alex there by himself. It's an unusual sight for her to see him there and she hesitates. Perhaps she should give him space? Usually when something has happened, he's taking it out in the gym or CTS. Anything to work out the aggression.]

[But seeing him here, it's like the fight has gone out of him. Snow decides that she probably shouldn't be leaving him on his own right now unless he asks her to leave.]

[Snow walks over and sits close beside Alex. She says nothing, but she does take one of his hands in one of her own and places it in her lap.]

[tolaywaste]

[He's a little startled at her touch. The last time she touched him like this was during that breach, when she took his hand to ground him, to make sure he knew that he was loved and safe. Is that all she means it to be now? A grounding touch.]

[He swallows. It's a distraction, at least. His heart's hammering, and maybe that's good enough.]

[He squeezes her hand lightly, a thank you. A please don't go.]

[breathoflight]

[Snow glances over at him when she feels the light squeeze to her hand. She wishes that she had the right words to say that would somehow ease anything that he's currently going through or thinking, but she knows words fall incredibly short in the face of loss.

[She remembers how many times people told her that her mother was watching her from heaven after her death as though that was somehow supposed to ease the pain she felt.]

[It didn't tell Snow anything she didn't already know. It didn't make having her mother so far away from her and out of her reach any less painful.]

[But she also remembers how much she wished there was someone to say that to her after her father died.]

Alex, I... [She frowns a little and looks down at his hand in hers. It just seems so wrong to Snow to say she's sorry.] I just want you to know, that I'm here. If you ever need me.

[tolaywaste]

[He would have taken a sorry, if she'd offered it. But really, this is better. It's more genuine, more true. More real. She can't really offer sorrow here and now. Compassion, she can.]

[The smile that passes across his face is real and true, if bittersweet. She's here. There's always the possibility that she'll disappear, but for now - for now they're both here. It's the best thing he could ask for.]

I know. [He squeezes her hand again.] I know. I was going to come to you, later. I just - had to think for a while. About everything. But I wasn't avoiding you.

[He pauses for a moment, then adds tentatively:] Do you believe in God?

[breathoflight]

[Snow nods a little, saying softly:]

I do.

It hasn't always been easy to. I know most tend to turn towards God and their faith in times of crisis, but...after my mother became sick and my father died...

[She shakes her head.]

I couldn't understand it. I thought maybe I had done something wrong or that God had abandoned me, abandoned Tabor. I was so angry with Him for so long.

I never stopped praying though.

I prayed every night, every morning, and every meal even when I thought it was falling on deaf ears. But I came to realize, that was the one thing that Ravenna could never take from me. She took away my father - the last of my family - and she took away my freedom while she ruined Tabor, but she couldn't take my hope away from me.

[Snow frowns a little and looks down at her lap.]

Ravenna did evil things, but she wasn't evil herself. The only thing she had left was her pain and power.

[She looks back up at Alex.]

I know it might sound strange, but if I had given up in believing in God and the belief there was a meaning behind the suffering she inflicted on herself and everyone around her, I never would have been able to forgive her for what she did. Holding onto that kind of anger turns into bitterness and hatred faster than any one person can realize. And if I had become that? [Snow shakes her head again.] I never would have forgiven myself.