tolaywaste | 26. » private, video, spam

Entry tags:

26. » private, video, spam

spam } aeryn & charles

[Alex has spoken to both his inmate and his now-legal guardian, trying to figure out a way to address the part of Aeryn's rehabilitation he feels least equipped to handle: her anger. What he hasn't done is gone into any great detail with either of them about how he wants this guidance to proceed.]

[In a way, he wants it to be something he and Aeryn can do together; in another way, he wants it to be as organic as possible, and so he pushes thoughts of structure away.]

[He calls them both to the CES. Bring jogging clothes, he says, because in his experience, just talking without moving can be a little bit terrifying. He waits just inside the entrance, stretching and plotting a path through the high grasses the room has given them today.]

private/voice } anya

Hey. We need to talk. [He hesitates, thinking of Snow and of Ben who would want him to actually be honest, not just truthful.] I mean, I need to talk about a bunch of things. But you, too.

Do you, you know. Have a minute?

private } crichton

We need to talk about Aeryn.

public } video

[See Alex. See Alex at the skating rink, with all necessary hockey accoutrements, just finishing up playing some solo hockey. Badly. The communicator appears to be resting on the wall of the rink; he waves at it pretty vigorously, his breath hanging in the air.]

Hey! So as some of you know - some of you new people, I guess, maybe don't - we have a skating rink. I have the keys and everything, but as long as you don't stab anyone with skates you're welcome. And we've been talking about having a serious hockey tournament for ages, so - here's phase one: try to beat me into the ice. Because seriously, it's the only way I'll learn.

Or come out and do some one-on-one, whatever you want. I'll be out here all afternoon.

open } spam

[And he is - out on the ice for the rest of the morning and into early afternoon, until he has to run to cover Ben's kitchen shift. He's been doing this more frequently lately than usual because Ben's been sick, but even now he's not the best at it. Kitchen work doesn't come naturally to him, but at least he follows direction well.]

[Immediately after lunch, he takes a walk in the CES, then attacks the CTS full force. The simulation it provides is terrifying in its sterility: robots twice his height, slow-moving but determined to capture rather thn terminate. His endeavor is to dismantle rather than destroy - a finesse exercise.]

[He leaves the CTS a smoking ruin. He's not much for finesse these days.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She thought it might. She wipes her hands and puts the kettle on, then goes back to grinding the meat.]

You okay this flood?

[Maybe it's relevant, maybe it isn't. If it's not, it might be easier to ease into whatever is. Hers was - fun, but a little weird. Very weird. Mostly upside down.]

Edited 2014-02-18 02:30 (UTC)

[He shrugs, hands in his pockets.]

It was okay, I guess. Everything else is more of a struggle than floods lately. The realer stuff.

[He glances up at the ceiling.]

You?

Imagine Riddick's eyes, and Ben's...demeanor, scuttling across the ceiling in the dark, surprising people.

[She grins a little as she starts working spices into the meat with her hands.]

People made some fun faces.

Seriously, you got part of Ben?

[He grins a little. It's kind of an adorable mental image, minus the eyes, and also something he would never say out loud.]

I wish I'd seen that. The faces, mostly. [He knows how people are.]

Seriously? Why is that a seriously? Of course I did.

[Seriously because it's kind of lovely, and because he loves the both of them - but no. He ducks his head, grinning.]

Of course you did. It's only right. Who else?

You, Peter, Jean, Charles. I wore the most awful sweaters.

They're pretty awful.

[A pause, a few heartbeats; Alex feels like everything's a little unsteady. Anya is seasoning meat, always busy, and he's just standing here. Reacting.]

[He digs around for a bread knife and cutting board and starts slicing, for something - anything to do with his hands.]

You worried about him?

[Not Peter, not Charles. The because I am is barely implicit, it's so obvious in his eyes. Ben is one of those people he can't afford to lose.]

[The patties go in the pan; she starts slicing tomatoes next to him.]

I'm...not. Worried isn't the right word. We have questions to answer and plans to make, and I feel - keyed up, a little. On alert, on task. But I'm not worried that he won't be okay, in the long run. We'll make sure.

[This is a fact: stars are hot, the barge is strange, and they will make sure Ben has what he needs.]

[They will make sure, in the end. He knows that, even if sometimes he forgets. It's the part between now and in the end that frightens him.]

You're right. But it hurts to see him hurting. [--an indescribably vast oversimplification, and hurting isn't even the right word. Angry. Overwhelmed. Out of his depth. Hurting is to what Ben feels as a puddle is to the ocean.]

[Alex grits his teeth and bumps Anya's shoulder with his own, gently. She's here. He's here too. So he doesn't have to feel the selfish pain that comes with empathy - Ben will be all right in the end. They will all pull through.]

[And yet.]

[It isn't just pragmatism, it isn't just confidence. In a very real sense, Anya cannot worry. There were moments, before the conversation at his bedside, when she was afraid. Moments of actual terror. But that wasn't what he needed. Ben is suffering, and the best comfort she can give him is her rock-solid certainty, her calm determination to hang his faith on. She can't hold him - not in any way that would help - but she can be without fear.

So that is what she does.]

I know.

I'd rip them out of him cell by cell, if that would make him happy.

[She could do it, too. She did a lot of research on plagues and modification vectors while she was undead.]

But he has the right to his scars, same as us. We'll help. We'll love him, and we won't ever leave him behind. And that does make him happy.

[She thinks of snow, and pearls, and a picture, as happy as she's ever seen him. It's enough. They'll make sure of that, too.]

Edited 2014-02-25 19:48 (UTC)

[The thought takes him aback. Ben has a right to his scars - well, of course he does. At least in theory. But everyone seems to be confused by Ben, what his scars mean. If Alex is truthful, sometimes he is, too. That's why sometimes he has to take a step back, to ask questions, to be stupid and wrong.]

[Is that what he has to do now? Risk being wrong, risk feeling this bad, so that Ben can wear his scars? Because he will do it, he'll do it in a heartbeat, even if Ben never smiled again, if he was happy.]

[His shoulders tense, fists clenched fierce on the cutting board. When he lets go of his knife and pulls Anya tight, folding his arms snugly around her back, he doesn't care one way or the other about the raw meat on her hands or the knife she's holding. He doesn't want anything back. He just needs to feel the thereness of her, to let her know that he is there, too.]

[They have scars. Scars aren't comparable, or even entirely comprehensible. But they don't negate strength, and he and Anya are strong enough to be Ben's foundation. Without a doubt.]

[It takes her by surprise, so she's stiff for a moment, then eases totally into it, leaves the knife carefully on the cutting board and then wraps her arms around him and hugs him back tight. It's really good to have someone else to hold on to. Her breath hitches, just once, overcome with things she mostly refuses to put words to, because Anya Lehnsherr is not the sort of person how gets overwhelmed, and if she doesn't admit it then that's basically the same thing.]

I'm glad we've got you to worry over us.

[Not just Ben, not just her. Everyone in their odd, distributed family. Alex himself may be scared and uncertain, but his care is a palpable thing, as steady as the warm solidity of him in her arms. She laughs, just a little, cracking slightly at the edges, but that's just - it's just that sort of moment, is all, and she's not going to cry or anything, even if her throat is a little tight.]

Just think. About a year ago you had faith in me, and I thought you were totally crazy.

[His smile feels fragile, but it also feels real. It's weird. He's learning how fragile things can be real, too, even if that goes against everything he was brought up to believe. He's even learning, slowly but surely, that he can be a little fragile at least some of the time and it won't bring the world crashing down on his head. Like right now. He feels like he's breaking.]

[But so does Anya, he thinks, hearing her hiccup, hearing her voice shake, and she isn't breaking at all. She is unbreakable.]

I'm glad I've got you to worry over, too.

[He realizes as he says it that it's true, and rests his chin contentedly on the top of her head.]

Do you still think I'm crazy?

[She closes her eyes, breathes slow and deep, lets the comfort of the moment seep into her like rain into the earth, lets her smile bubble up from somewhere deep inside until it's just floating on the surface.]

Oh, definitely. But maybe only like, half crazy.

Oh, well. That's okay then.

[He pulls back a little and ruffles her hair, just to be as obnoxious as possible. She started it.]

[She just hums, a soft contented sound. She likes having her hair touched, at least by someone she likes.]

If you get too sane you probably can't hang out with me any more. You must be at least this crazy to enter.

I think I can probably stay exactly that crazy. Or maybe a little more.

[He goes back to slicing the bread, feeling a little more relaxed.]

We should probably talk about Morgana, too. I mean. If that's not weird, for me to talk to you about her. I'm just worried.

If you want to talk, I want to listen.

[She moves smoothly, like a dancer - like the fighter she is becoming - acquires a spatula and flips the patties, layers the cheese.]

Nothing about caring is weird.

I guess.

[Despite how close they just got to each other, this kind of intimate discussion still makes him a little uncomfortable. Anya knows how to navigate it; Alex is still convinced he doesn't. Some things about caring are weird, he's sure of this. But he won't argue.]

She's so angry. It seems like it's burning her up inside.

She is. I worry that she doesn't have anything else to fuel herself with.

[She used to, Anya knows. That keen, sharp-edged nobility, the need for justice. That can burn, too. Even ambition. But so much has been taken from her, so much rendered worthless by pain and betrayal, so much lost. It's not that the anger isn't destroying her; it's that taking it away would destroy her more, faster.]

Do you think . . .

She's been angry for so long. Do you think she'll get the rest of it back?

[He wants to help, so badly. But at the same time he won't push himself in. She trusts so few people, has had her trust betrayed so many times; he wants Morgana to feel safe.]

I don't want her to destroy herself. [Again.]

I don't know about back. Some things you can't go back to. But I think she can rebuild, go forward.

She wants to go back, is the hard part. She wants Camelot even though she hates it for not being hers for so long.

I don't know if there's a way to pull that poison, or to get her to think about the possibility of building a home somewhere else, or which way I should focus on. But I do think she can.

It has to be her who does it. I know that, too.

I guess. If there's something I can do. You'll tell me, right? She never does. [Or maybe there's never anything he can do, but he doesn't want to think about it like that.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

26. » private, video, spam

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]