( 014 ) Ω ( VIDEO + SPAM )

[semifreakingnormal]

[Okay. He learned from the last time. He doesn't have to apologize. That doesn't mean he's not struggling with the memories of what he did.

Scott's eyes aren't quite red rimmed, but he is far from relaxed. It's obvious he's broadcasting from the infirmary: there still some structural damage around as the Admiral slowly fixes things.]

I'm, um.

[Sorry sorry sorry sorry. He swallows it back, draws in a shaky breath.]

I'm in the infirmary. [He looks around over his shoulder.] Obviously. I know there's not a lot the doctors can do for people who are death tolling. But one of the things I learned at home can help. I can take away pain, when I touch people. So, I'll - I'll be here. I'l be around. Just let me know if you're hurting, and I'll make it better for a while.

[He doesn't mention that he takes the pain on himself. He hopes Stiles and Dean won't say anything, either. It feels like penance, though that's not the only reason he's offering. If he can help people and feel like he's scouring away his guilt, well...then he's going to.]

[Private to Peter]

You were right. I'm definitely thanking you after.

Are you okay?

[Spam for Stiles and Lydia]

[He's been at her bedside in the infirmary since they reappeared back on the Barge, waiting for her to wake up. He knows she will. Knows it deep in his gut, because the Admiral hasn't failed them like this. He won't leave her there, and he won't leave her dead.

There's a whisper of doubt in his thought, and he's doing the best he can to banish it. It leaves his throat and mouth dry, and he doesn't know what to do.

Looking over the bed at Stiles, he draws in breath to say something, anything, but he can't. It wasn't him, but he remembers tearing her throat out, he remembers Stiles' face when it happened, and he has to look down at his hands again.]

Comments

Private

[shakenandlimp]

You are a good lad and you aren't to blame. There's plenty of us were monsters one way or another.

[Matter of factly and unprompted, he says it as he'd say to some crestfallen midshipman in the face of some failure at sea. They may barely have exchanged two words but Bush will be gruffly comforting if he damn well pleases.]

Private

[semifreakingnormal]

[He appreciates it more than he knows how to express.]

Thanks.

[His voice almost cracks. Almost, but not quite. He swallows, covers it with a nod.]

Are you okay?

Re: Private

[shakenandlimp]

I am under the toll, but whenever I feel low about it I recall that Lieutenant Bush is going through the same thing, and it raises my spirits no end. And you, lad?

Private

[semifreakingnormal]

Yeah. [For a relative definition of 'okay,' at least.] I mean, I didn't die. I was serious, though, I can come help you. Are you int he infirmary? [He's already looking around.]

Stiles | Scott | Lydia Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's been at her side since -- since. He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten. He has no desire for either. She'll come back. She has to come back. He has very little faith in anything, but Scott -- the one he knows and loves -- has told him people always come back.

And he has faith in Scott.

He feels Scott's eyes on him as they sit in silence, waiting and he lifts his gaze to look back at him, stomach tightening at the expression on his best friend's face. It's a look he's familiar with because it's one he's seen on his own face so many times the last few weeks every time he glances in a mirror and he hates, hates that it's reflected on Scott's now too.]

Don't. [His voice is quiet.] Seriously.

Stiles | Scott | Lydia Spam

[semifreakingnormal]

Sorry, [he mumbles, and he's not sure if he's apologizing for what he did, or for the expression on his face, or for all the wrongs the universe has done them. He opens his hands, fingers laced between his knees, and stares at his palms. They were covered in her blood, there. He has to blink a few times, and when he can't banish the image, he looks back up at Stiles.]

Thanks. The ash, I mean. [For stopping him from going after anyone else, at least for a little while. The line had been broken eventually, and eventually he'd been stopped again.]

Stiles | Scott | Lydia Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[Stiles' own expression is pained at his apology. They really just...don't get breaks. Ever, apparently. He shakes his head and exhales slowly, rising to his feet and moving his chair around to the side of Lydia's bed where he's sitting, dropping down right beside him and resting his hand on Scott's back.

He wishes he'd done it sooner, but he holds in his own guilt, packs it away with the rest of it for the time being.]

Sure thing.

Stiles | Scott | Lydia Spam

[semifreakingnormal]

[He watches Stiles come around, and relaxes a little as the hand settles on his back. He's so twisted up inside that some version of him would do anything like this, but it helps, having people around to remind him that it wasn't him, that there wasn't anything he could do.

Still, he hopes that next time - may it never ever come - he's unaffected. He doesn't want to live through another experience like this.

He doesn't say anything else, just nods his gratitude to Stiles before settling his eyes on Lydia's face again.]

private.

[myresponsibility]

'm fine. I heal fast.

[And while his voice sounds a little slurred, he doesn't sound terrible? He actually sounds pretty chipper for someone who got shot and is quasi doped up on painkillers.]

Where are you?

private.

[semifreakingnormal]

Infirmary. [And he is lifting his head to look around and sigh. He waves.] Look up.

spam??

[myresponsibility]

[Peter sits up a little, using his elbows to prop him up a little more and smiles when he sees his friend.]

Hey. You should come over here so I can start making sure you know this wasn't your fault.

spam!!

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott smiles - or grimaces, hard to say, and pockets his communicator to leave Lydia's bed side as he heads for Peter's.]

Sorry other me's a...dick doesn't even cover it.

[godsays]

What's the price?

[semifreakingnormal]

Nothing, man. I don't need anything back.

[godsays]

I didn't mean you. It isn't how power works. Where there's a push, there's always a pull. In some worlds, they made it a law of physics.

[semifreakingnormal]

Oh.

[He doesn't want to tell the truth. He doesn't want to say that he holds onto it, he feels the pain. Right now, he wants to relieve burdens, not make more.]

I don't really know. It just leaves. [It's a half truth. He takes it on, and eventually, he stops feeling it. Eventually, it has to leave.]

spam!!

[diealone]

[Jack... isn't really certain of what happened, honestly. His memories of the last few days are a little muddled, like a dream he doesn't really remember most of upon waking.

Fortunately, he knows enough that there are people hurting, and as easy as it would be to just sit in his room staring at the wall, he finds himself walking towards the infirmary like something else is compelling him to be there, and he doesn't bother questioning it. This seems easier, to just do what he's been doing for years.

So he keeps himself busy, helping out where he can and letting people sulk in silence if they're not interested in being taken care of. He sees Scott around, checks in with him to make sure he's more or less alright, but leaves him be for a while. He doesn't know what happened, really, but it doesn't take a mind reader to see someone who's been through hell and doesn't want to be pushed on it.

Eventually though, he can't just pretend like he's not concerned, and it's a lot easier to tell someone to take care of themselves than to know when to step away yourself. (Irrationally, he kind of doesn't act like that applies to him, though. Oops.)]

You should get some lunch. I think we've got this under control for now. [And you're starting to look a little frayed around the edges, kiddo.]

spam!!

[semifreakingnormal]

[Jack, it definitely applies to you too. Scott looks up when his inmate comes bye, and he's already shaking his head at the suggestion.]

I'm okay. [What he means is, what if someone comes looking for a little pain curbing, and he's not around? No way. He needs to be here, in case anyone needs him.]

I can eat later. Have you taken a break? [He's not trying to turn the tables, really. It just opens the avenue for his concern.]

spam!!

[diealone]

I'm fine. Remember, this used to be my job.

[And he's worked longer hours in worse conditions, so he really has no room to complain. Sucks not having an office to crash or stash food and coffee in, but he can deal. Sort of. Mostly.

His frustration with being here has very little to do with the things I just mentioned.]

[pvtparts]

Sounds to me like you could use similar relief, lad. Look after yourself before you go running off trying to fix everyone else.

[semifreakingnormal]

I'm not death tolling. I'm probably having an easier time of it than...plenty of people.

[pvtparts]

Probably. But that doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel a slight bit miserable, lad.

private text;

[advocacy]

[Daneca knows the last time this happened, it took a lot out of them both. She still feels...a little blowback-y, if she's honest which is why she doesn't go looking for Scott. It'll be easier to even out if she keeps things level and isolated for a little while.]

[But she does worry about him when he turns up on the network.]

You should get some rest, Scott.

private text;

[semifreakingnormal]

i will.

[He pauses. Does he apologize? Does he check up on her? She'd say if something bad had happened in the end, wouldn't she? The break gives him a chance to think back on the last time, and...he can't blame her for keeping some distance. So he keeps it simple, because he can't just say nothing else.]

do you need anything?

private text;

[advocacy]

No. I just need time to deal with the blowback. I don't think it's as bad last time.

[She didn't work anyone super close to coming back to the right Barge.]

I can usually look the other way with a lot of the things the Admiral puts us through, but I'd really appreciate it if he'd stop screwing around with me like that. I mean, I know it's awful for everyone and losing control is always going to suck, but I hate being like this. It's so much worse than when it's just a regular flood and we forget who we really are for a little while.

That's someone I could have been. I know I'm not her, but I could have been if things had gone a little differently.

[About that blowback...]