ardent | 010. [Action for Dangan House/Text]

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010. [Action for Dangan House/Text]

[ACTION]

[His first thought upon waking up is that he doesn't know where he is.

His body tenses immediately on that bed in the basement, jolting sharply awake as though he's been startled by something, as though he's just been sleeping and he's had a hell of a nightmare; his eyes are wide, his gaze shifting around the room as though he's trying to get some idea of his surroundings and what's happening around him, and he might just look disoriented if it weren't for the fact that his gaze is so blatantly unfocused.

He's taking in everything without really seeing it; his breathing is quick to even out, however, and after a moment his body relaxes against that futon he sleeps on, and any fear that may have been present in him is gone entirely, seeming to take any genuine fight he may have had along with it.

After a moment he sits up, and if he isn't hindered immediately by anything or anyone he'll get up and start pacing the length of the basement, the motion aimless and ultimately pointless, just something to do because...well, it's something to do.

He hasn't lost that odd, disconnected look in his eyes; he's not registering anything very well, that much is obvious.]

[TEXT]

[A text will be hitting the network shortly after Ishimaru wakes up and any discussions with people in person have been carried out; it's short and uncharacteristically careless, and he isn't paying much attention to the device after it's out there, though he'll respond eventually to anyone who replies.]

i'm awake

and i'm sorry

[OOC: Canon-updating completed, for good or ill.]

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[The first thing that goes through her, surprisingly enough, is a stab of anger. Not at Ishimaru, of course (never at Ishimaru), but at everyone else, all the people who'd turned up with their soft voices and careful stupid words going this is normal and sometimes this happens and he'll be fine when he wakes up. It's the kind of anger that makes her lose something, the kind that makes her forget what her hands are doing until she notices after the fact that her palms are stinging from the welts her nails dug in, or the shards of glass twisted between her fingers that used to be a bottle.

They said he would be fine, and they were wrong, because he's not fine. He's not fine.

If it were anyone else, she'd be alarmed and scared right now, because she doesn't know how to handle things like this. She always goes back to Sophie, what Sophie would do, not just because Sophie is a grifter but because Sophie tries to help her to get better at things like this, so that when they happen she doesn't end up like this, stalled out and drawing a blank herself. If it were anyone else, she'd want to jump out the nearest window just to get away from it.

But this is Ishimaru, and he's more important, and he...needs...to not be alone. Not like she was alone, when she was the one with that slump in her shoulders and that dead, awful stare behind her eyes.]

Ishimaru.

[It doesn't quite come together at first, the connection between he knocked out and he went back and the understanding of what he went back to. Someone else would've seen it faster, but she doesn't.

It's not until the pain in her hands registers, and she realizes that she can barely get her fists open from clenching them shut so hard, that it somehow sinks in — because he'd never liked her to be violent, maybe, and violence is what he went back to.

She gets her hands open somehow, unmindful of the nail marks, and doesn't move other than to open her arms halfway.]

Ishimaru, come here.

[That gets him to look up from the horde, anyway, though it's just to stare at her for a moment; he wanders over to her, though, when she tells him to come, and he stops in front of her without moving to touch her.

It occurs to him, for what feels like the first time, that he's taller than she is; it's a weird thought, one that he's really not sure what to do with, and he's not really even sure if he should do anything with it so in the end he does nothing, he just...looks at her. He isn't sure if he should tell her to leave, because the last time he'd tried that it hadn't ended well (it had ended...weirdly, really); ultimately he decides against it, just letting her do...as she decides to do.]

[Okay. Good. Yes, she remembers this, too — get up, Parker; keep moving, Parker; chew and swallow, Parker. Simple commands made things easier because at least you knew what to do with them. You didn't have to think, you just...

Yeah. Okay. Yeah.

Carefully, quickly, she looks him over, like she's afraid she'll find blood or a wound on him, somehow, or scars that aren't supposed to be there. But there's nothing, really, or at least nothing she can spot, which means that all the scars are on the inside.

The worst part is that she can't even make herself tell him that it's going to be okay, because it's not and they both know it and she hates lying to him.]

It's warm outside.

[Somehow, she thinks she's supposed to say something other than that, anything but that, but she doesn't know what it is.]

We can go appreciate the sky.

[His eyes widen a bit at the mention of outside, the mention of going outside and seeing the sky because yes, yes that's a thing that they can just...do here, isn't it, they can just go outside anytime they want and they don't have to worry about explosions and machine guns and -

He nods after a moment, letting his eyes slide closed for a good long while until he can look at her again. We can do that if she wants.]

Yeah. Yeah, we can...we can do that.

[It's fine that he's a little taller than her, really, because Hardison is too, and she's had plenty of practice at helping to haul him around before; carefully, trying to avoid making him flinch, she maneuvers his arm up enough that she can tuck herself under it, wrapping one of her own around his waist as she goes.

She'd sooner just carry him up the stairs, frankly, but she has a feeling he wouldn't want that. Maybe it's better to keep making him listen and do things, anyway.]

Fresh air. That's good for you. Right?

[He nods a bit more readily in response to the question - fresh air is always good, outside is always good and he'd just spent the last good long while unsure if he'd ever see it again so outside is definitely good - and he more or less accepts what she's doing in regards to their positioning, following her up the stairs with little complaint.

There would be more of a complaint if she'd carried him, admittedly, but. For now, this is fine.

It helps that he wants to see the outside, to verify that it's still there because everything he's heard here is threatening to come crashing down, and somewhere in the back of his mind he's...afraid, that maybe the destruction that made it so they had to lock themselves inside has reached this place as well, and...

...no, no, stop that. Come on. Breathe. It's fine. She wouldn't offer to take him outside if it weren't.]

Nobody knows why the weather's like this.

[She guides him along steadily, out the back door and across the yard to the flat planes of the tennis court, where the footing will be steadier (she assumes) and they're away from the roof awnings so he can get a good, long look at the expanse of blue patch-marked in places by tufts of white clouds.

And when they get there, she shifts slightly, releasing him but catching his hand so he'll be able to feel that she's still there, even as she lets him stand on his own.]

See? It's all blue and...up there...

[And he's shaking a bit when she lets go of him but aside from that he's standing just fine, and when he looks up at what's being indicated, it certainly is up there, and it certainly is blue, and he's so goddamn grateful to see it that he can't stop the tears.

Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurs to him that this is how they met, too, with him staring at the sky and tears streaming down his face and her standing nearby, but she'd been unexpected then. She's holding his hand now and he's just...

...just.

So, so goddamn grateful.]

...It's...It's good for appreciating today...

[She thinks she might end up crying herself, a little bit, when the sight of the sky managed to dislodge actual words from him; it has to be a good sign, that he's talking, because it means that he's not just absorbing and reacting — there's something else there, too, still trying, and whatever that is, that's what she's got to try to reach and bring back out.]

Yeah. It's really good. It's...it's a really good day today.

[Because you're awake, and I'm here, she thinks, and that's enough to make it good, isn't it?

Probably not. But her fingers are warm where they twist between his, and the feeling of his palm is much better than the bite of nails.]

I know what you're doing this time.

[Because of course he's not the only one who remembers that this is how they met.]

[His grip tightens a bit on hers.]

...It's hard...not being able to see it.

I can't back home.

I know. When you're all boxed up you...start to miss it.

[Like air vents and storage lockers, just steel walls all around. Sometimes they feel like home, but you start to miss the sky, too.]

Remember you said...when bad stuff happens, we can take care of each other. Well...when good stuff happens, we can see it together, too.

[He twitches rather sharply at that, though he doesn't let go of her hand; he lapses back into that unsettling stillness, though again, it's not for a lack of thoughts, and it takes him far too long to respond.]

...We couldn't...do that either.

[He's shaking.]

...People died.

[She remembers, then, a time when the person crying at her side was Mondo, not Ishimaru — they were out, and on their way to pick up Celes, and they'd told her about what life at their school was like, what they were made to do. And Mondo had said, twelve hours, and I attacked Fujisaki, and she'd realized then that the only way Ishimaru could still be alive was if Mondo wasn't.

This is how people react when their brothers die. She remembers it. Mondo probably knew it. Now it's Ishimaru's turn.

And she remembers, too — they made the survivors watch.]

I know.

[She doesn't know like he knows, but she knows enough. Knows how it messes you up inside, when it happens and all you can think about is how you couldn't stop it.]

It hurts for a long time. But it doesn't stay forever.

...I didn't...do enough.

[And there are the tears again in full force, and he isn't bothering to wipe them away or hide them; he just twitches again, and before he can stop himself he's screaming because he isn't sure what else to do.]

I didn't do enough! If I had done more, if I had been...better I would have found a way to save him, to save both of them, but I...I wasn't good enough...

[This is how Nate feels all the time, Parker catches herself thinking, and almost ends up bemused by it, because in the second after it passes through her mind, it occurs to her that maybe this is...empathy...or something...

The fact that he's screaming barely registers; if the volume bothers her, she doesn't show it. She just turns in, keeping their hands connected, and stands against him so that he can cry into her shoulder instead of into the open air.]

Bad stuff happens because of bad people.

[She closes her eyes, swallowing hard.]

Not because of you.

[It's when she turns in against him that he just seems to break a little; he buries his face in her shoulder for a while and just kind of...shakes a bit, and the sobbing is almost unnaturally quick to taper down even if he's quivering, and after a while he falls silent again - swallowing hard once in a while, and his breathing is still jagged, but he's quiet.

He doesn't move from where he's settled against her shoulder, though; he doesn't seem too inclined to do that anytime soon.]

Not because of you.

[Carefully, she puts her free arm around him, but lightly — so he knows she's there, but not holding him in. The feeling of hands running up and down your back can be weirdly calming, she knows, and so she attempts a little of that, too, more just for the repetitive movement than anything else.]

I know it hurts but it's better to hurt than to be empty. Empty's...empty's harder to fill up again.

It...doesn't hurt.

[That's about all he can manage right now; he's not sure what to do with the knowledge that it's true. He supposes that it should be more alarming than it is but he can't bring himself to find the fear, and if he's going to be honest then sometimes it hurts and that's when he starts screaming, but afterwards...

It's not emptiness, though, not really; he's not really sure what to describe it as. Not coldness, because cold is something you can feel. Numbness, maybe.

He'll put it into words later. For now her hand against his his back feels nice and he focuses on that, and it gets a soft noise out of him that he's not really aware of until it's out there.]

No.

[He may not be able to find the alarm, but Parker can, because Parker knows exactly what he's describing. It's the thing that made everybody say she was broken, what makes them say "there's something wrong with you". The point when it stops hurting is the point when you start needing somebody like Hardison to wait you out two years before you can even stop being a mess again.

Parker was broken, do you understand that? she'd heard Nate say to Archie. You should've taken her home, should've — to what? To my real family?

Parker wouldn't fit in with a real family. That's why Ishimaru can't let his slip through his fingers.]

You have to — to try really hard, okay? You have to try so hard, Ishimaru, but you...you have to keep...feeling. And it sucks and it'll hurt so bad but you have to do it, like when you cut yourself and it hurts but it hurts so you know you have to protect that while it heals. You have to try. You have to.

[She tips her head, resting it against his, and focuses on the rhythm her fingers are drawing against his back. Slow, slow. Up, down. Like cracking a safe, steady as it goes.]

I need you to.

[He tips his head a bit in return, leaning it against hers while he thinks that over; it...makes sense, he thinks. It's not really the way he'd think about it. But the logic follows and it makes sense and it's going to take him a while to get his head around it but that's okay.

Because they're here, and they have time.]

...Will you hate me if I can't...?

No.

[It's gentler this time, less severe, less afraid. It hurts in a way she can't seem to put into words, that she has to tell him to stay miserable and screaming and crying, but just because it's quieter where he wants to go doesn't mean it's better.

She shifts her weight a little, back and forth, rocking him in a margin of millimeters.]

Just try. I'll help you. I've got you.

...I trust you.

[And he does. More than anyone else in the world right now.]

I need you to tell me when you need stuff, okay?

[She says, ducking her head so it's half-muffled against his shoulder.]

You can tell me anything. And I'm going to take care of you.

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010. [Action for Dangan House/Text]

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