itstopped | Re-Entry 09: Video/Spam

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gaeta upgrades to a new model

Re-Entry 09: Video/Spam

((Backdated a couple of days to take place after this.))

[Lab and Engine Room Filters]

[Felix, probably unsurprisingly, hasn't let the incident in the CES deter him much. He's still been at work on time every day, seemingly perfectly composed, as ready as ever to keep the ship running and prepare for the port. The only difference at all is that he doesn't go to the CES anymore.

Today, though, he looks rather distracted.]

I'm sorry for the short notice, but I need the day off today. I can tell you why tomorrow.

[Or show them, he hopes.

He hesitates, then switches to--]

[Private to Barbara]

Did you know there was a healer on board?

[Open Spam]

[The process takes a while, and it hurts more than he expected it would... but then, how do you anticipate something like this? For everything he's seen on the Barge, wonders and horrors alike, and even after seeing Charles healed, he'd never even imagined this would be possible until Merlin mentioned it only a few hours ago. He hasn't even really come to grips with the idea before it's happening, before this beneficent stranger's blood is moving into his veins, and suddenly his right leg feels like it's on fire, and--

--then it's now, and he's walking on two legs for the first time in a year. Slowly, carefully. He's not used to it anymore. He's gotten accustomed to the limp. This feels too light and too heavy at the same time -- more volume, less weight -- and the skin, he has skin again, feels too raw, and nothing feels quite as right as he thought it would. But his ankle bends where it's supposed to, and he can feel it when it does. He can walk. He can run, at least once he gets used to it again.

He ends up literally walking the entirety of the Barge, up one deck and down the next. By the time he gets to Level Eight, it's finally sunk in and he's jogging, just because he can.]

[Friends filter -- if you think you're on it, etc.]

[After that, he's kind of exhausted, but in a good way. He's flushed, smiling, bright-eyed like he hasn't been since the flood where he wasn't even himself.]

Hey. Something happened.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's sushi, not mush. [He twists to glance back at Dean, somewhere between amused and faux-defensive and maybe even actually a little defensive. Sushi may be a Far East and/or expensive restaurant thing to Dean, but it's Picon to him. Besides, it's hard to describe just how bad the longing for anything gets under a steady diet of algae mush. He sniffs.] The algae is incidental.

[The question should be a casual one, especially for a seven-month friendship -- this is one of the things he'll realize later they should really have already known -- but it's kind of... not. Not quite, the way Dean's asking it, but also, thinking about the before all that is always fraught with things Felix doesn't want to think about. It's one of the reasons he never lets himself have time off.

He turns back again and shrugs it off, feigning the casualness that isn't quite there.] Studying? Reading? I was a frakking nerd, Dean. I thought you knew that by now.

[Dean is already shaking his head dismissively, though; he's not completely unfamiliar with sushi, it was one of the things Sam brought back with him from college, from Jess, that Dean never would've taught him. He just... doesn't get it, but it's not something he really cares about either way.]

Was? [The hunter raises both eyebrows to emphasize the tease, but he doesn't pause.] I mean before that. Nerds aren't born nerds, it - [He hesitates, though, because here's Sam again, his first and best reference for all things nerd. And actually, he kind of always had been from the moment he learned to read.

But there'd been a point before that where he'd only wanted to play with Dean's plastic soldiers and legos, and it's a memory that combines with the too-recent birthday to make him shy away from it rather than say anything more specific. He clears his throat and presses ahead.] Movies? Coloring books? Model spaceships or whatever? Fireworks?

It what? I liked those things. I liked science, physics, biology... I always wanted to know more about the world. [That's easier to confess to, because please; anyone who knows him knows about that. He might work in the lab because it eats up time, but that hasn't stopped him from getting all too animated when someone offhandedly asks what they're working on. Temporal particles! It even cracks through his shell, sometimes.

Which is really how he justifies not talking about the past. They have plenty to talk about. They don't need to talk about ancient history. He doesn't need to mention how much he used to love art, or how his parents patiently sat by and quietly rolled their eyes while he went through one hobby after another. That all died on Picon, anyway.]

I, uh, I guess that's one of the few good things about this place. I mean, I might be stuck working for a frakking Time Lord, but I never could have gotten my hands on a machine like that back... [Home.] ... before.

[And maybe that's what Dean keeps running into: it's not that he's failed to notice that about Felix, it's not that he's not curious about the world around them himself, so much as the latter is nowhere near a driving force for him and the former, well. Felix may not be the most intelligent person in the lab, but he far outstrips Dean on a regular basis, and for the most part Dean's okay with that. He's used to it, even.

But with Sam, at least, he'd known what came before the IQ and the biology and science and whatever the hell else; they'd played pretend on jungle gyms and hide and seek in hotel rooms and pinball in diners and bars. He knew that Sam liked spaghetti-os and lucky charms before he acquired his taste for sushi and salads and fruit smoothies or whatever the fuck. Here there's nothing and Felix continues to give him very little and the problem is that Dean has absolutely no point of reference for that: maybe that's just how it is, in Felix's world.

That does bother him, a little, but he's not going to let it in right now. Instead he smirks, and offers back one of the few good things he's found about this place. It's not any machine. Not yet, anyway.]

You know some of the people here - the superheroes, mainly, from what I can tell - were in some kinda book or movie back home? That was... weird, and kinda cool, when I first figured it out. [Then he smirks wider, as something about what Felix said occurs to him:] You should've been more specific about what world you wanted to know about.

Yeah. I guess the Admiral took that a little too much to heart. [It's with his characteristic wryness, but there's not much venom in it now. Like he told Anya, he's inclined to be gentler to the Barge today than usual.

He's still got his back to Dean, tucked up against his side, so his reaction goes unseen. He squints quizzically anyway, cocking his head.] What do you mean, in a book or a movie? Like... they were actors? [And there you are, Dean, a rare bit of personal information slips as he snorts:] Frak, I was in a movie, once. Just some stupid propaganda documentary.

[Dean quirks a small smile at that, also unseen; he does his best to ignore when Felix gets on his tear about the Barge and the inherent injustices of the system, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it a little when he doesn't. Then he's shaking his head again, shifting slightly.]

Nah, like... they were in the book or movie. You run into comic books yet? [Well, not like it matters, Felix understands books regardless.] Like the main characters. Are here, real, when they were fiction before. I'm friends with freaking Batman, dude.

[And while this is a statement that still puts a mild tone of disbelief in his voice - and he doesn't, actually, mean Bruce Wayne either, which adds a bit more to it maybe - he blinks in surprise at Felix's admission.

A documentary, though. He has to laugh with how typical that is.]

Yeah? That your version of a summer blockbuster or what?

[Now he does twist around again, partly because it's getting inconvenient talking to the air, tucking one leg under the opposite knee.] We didn't exactly take a film studio with us, Dean. No, it was... well, actually, it was a Cylon spy gathering intel, but we didn't find that out till later. She did actually release the movie, though. It was good PR for the fleet: [He affects a wide-eyed face and spreads his hands wide, as if demonstrating a headline.] See the real faces of the men and women who protect you every day. That kind of thing. She asked me how I unwind. [And boy, had he told her. And everyone else, by proxy.

He resettles, folding his arms, and arches a brow.] And I do know what a comic book is. We have those. Uh, had. [He clears his throat, moves on quickly.] They're fictional in your world. I assume they're real in their own.

[Dean lets him, lifting his arm and draping it across the back of the couch instead, watching idly. Of course - of course it was after, not some high school project or something. The Cylons are really putting a cramp in his style and he's never even met one, as far as he knows. Which is a really stupid thought to have because he's pretty sure they put a bigger cramp in everyone else's life, a fact that would be more than enough in and of itself to ensure he hates them by proxy and would do whatever he could if he found himself in a position to do so.

He still smirks at "unwind," picks the amusement out of the rest of it, and wrinkles his nose, tone absolutely mock-serious.] Did you tell her about temporal particles? Because I hate to break it to you but no one wants to hear about temporal particles.

[As for the rest, well. Dean picks idly at the edge of his boxers with the hand still in his lap.] I'm not saying it doesn't matter, but it doesn't, you know, matter. You don't walk into a room expecting what you've been thinking all your life was a made up person to just be sitting there having coffee, you don't expect to have to work with them during some kinda...thing.

[In turn, a rare introspective moment from Dean. He can't help, somewhat traitorously he realizes, thinking about Buffy and how much she'd hated knowing other people knew things about her life she hadn't told them; how... easy it had felt for Dean to feel like he already knew her in a place otherwise completely unknown and threatening.] It's just... here are these people that you grew up with, that were... friends. And then you get to be friends with 'em.

[He snorts again and leans in closer, stealing Dean's hand to press it to his shoulder, where the tattoo used to be.] I told her about what I do after work. [Although he's pretty sure he didn't explicitly mention the sex. Just the smoking and the drinking and the tattoos. Just the general stuff no one would have expected of him, that he was all too happy to show the rest of the fleet at the time, his frustration already starting to brim all the way back then.

He'd push it, get a little teasing, maybe even offer a demonstration, but then Dean is getting strangely thoughtful. He settles back down, semi-consciously letting their hands stay loosely connected, leaning his head against the couch as he watches him think.] I just meant that it's not really all that surprising. There are a few multi-world theories that would account for it. [But he tries to take his nerd glasses off and put his... not-boyfriend face on, instead.] You are friend with most of them, anyway, aren't you? You're friends with half the damn ship.

[Dean would normally be getting restless right about now, try to do the teasing Felix isn't or getting up to pace or wanting to go do something besides sit here; he just, right now, doesn't. So when Felix picks his hand back up, instead of nudging him playfully and pushing to his feet, he glances down at where it ends up, then crooks his fingers slightly to keep them together.

He's loud and extroverted and active, but for now, he smiles at what he knows perfectly well Felix is capable of off work - the one thing, perhaps, he knows about Felix better than anyone else here - and is content to stay where he is even if he does shift some again for a more comfortable position.

The multi-world theory doesn't really bother him. He's sure Felix knows the name and the creator and the minute details or whatever of each of them but even Dean, at least, is aware of their existence. The rest he's accustomed to tuning out. And anyway, Felix says something else that is odder still for the normally vagrant Winchester, and absolutely, he knows, true.]

Well, I dunno how happy some of 'em are about it but yeah, guess I am. [He sounds minorly surprised by this.] I guess it's kinda hard not to be when we're all here, all day every day, right in the same space. This's the longest I've been in one place since I was a kid.

That didn't happen on Galactica?

What? Making friends? Yeah, sort of. [Although he hesitates, in part because really... yes and no. He remembers what it used to be like before New Caprica, and he'd had Dee then, but otherwise it had been a little lonely. Louis, Margaret, Noel, they would all come later, after he'd learned to relax.]

Not like you, though. [It's a little like this, actually: he knows he's a little bit extreme, and he knows that turns some people away. He cares less now than he did then; here, most of his friends are ones whose extremity matches his own, and he doesn't need to be a social butterfly beyond that.]

[Dean wrinkles his nose a bit. He's always liked people, it's where his attention turns when he gets bored, which is often enough. He likes interacting with people and he likes learning all the little quirks of them. This is his world to learn about. This is his science. People.

And as soon as he'd asked it he could envision it clearly; Galactica was this same basic setup only less unlikely, less time to sit around doing nothing, ironically. Why would Felix have made friends any more easily then?]

Do you want to make more friends? [It's an abrupt question, occurring to him for the first time; he's been shoving people at Felix and vice because it seems like the only natural thing to do to him, and he's always been the one who knows people. He never thought for a moment it might be legitimately unwanted.]

[It's a weird question by his standards, and the look he gives Dean makes it obvious.] I'm fine, Dean. [Is that what that is? Concern? It's not exactly unwanted -- it's not that he especially minds -- but the truth is that if Dean stopped pushing people at him, he probably wouldn't notice and he almost definitely wouldn't care. He didn't like the loneliness before New Caprica, but here...

I've got you, he wants to say and absolutely doesn't. What would be the point? he doesn't say, either, because he knows that would only be upsetting. Both are true, which is a conflict he has yet to resolve.

He plays it off into teasing, instead.]

I promise, when I'm not here I'm not sitting by myself in the dark, okay?

[Dean immediately raises his free hand in surrender at the look; honest question, he's not going to let it get more serious than this, so he meets the assertion and the teasing with an easy smile. He's not in any kind of position to say anything, really; he doesn't have anything like friends back home. He has a car, and a brother, and a man he calls uncle, and a job.

And here...]

Uh huh. Only because you need light to read with. [It's a tease back, but he doesn't pause.] Well, in any case, Doyle's been inviting more people to poker night. Ned and his inmate, I guess. See if they actually show.

Oh. [He pauses, but then shrugs.] Okay. [Ned is... someone who causes mixed feelings, but they're not all bad, not anymore. He'd been kind to Felix at the infirmary, and he really hadn't had to do that at all. Felix is well aware he's never been all that kind to the piemaker.

But it's a broader question, too, he knows, an extension of the previous one -- how okay is he with his social circle expanding? It's not as though he has to be best friends with them, though. It's not even really as if he has to be anything more than cordial, and he can manage that much for the sake of smooth sailing.]

It's fine. [His mouth quirks.] And just because you're not friends with mine doesn't mean I don't have any. Maybe I should invite Morgana along. [That, he thinks, would be something.] Or Margaret.

Morgana. [Margaret takes Dean a moment longer to attach a face to, but that name he recognizes immediately. He'd offered to help the woman when she first got here but they hadn't inteacted much since, not that she hasn't still affected his life. All of their lives, technically. Something in the hunter that had previously been relaxed tenses anyway, though he segues smoothly into a slightly tighter version of his previous smile.]

Didn't really know you two were friends. You sure she'd enjoy that? Or I could just skip out, I guess. [The second offer is reluctant but sincere; he doesn't trust her, not by a long shot, but he does remember their last conversation.] If you want to invite her. Just...

[Be careful, he wants to say, but it doesn't quite make it out into the air and Dean tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.]

[Well, that's not an unexpected reaction at all, from what he remembers of what Morgana told him. The only curious thing is Dean's surprise, because he's never made a secret of it, and he'd assumed that Morgana had told him herself when they'd argued about him.]

No -- I'm not, not really, but I've been telling her she could stand to branch out a little more. Besides, it would be funny. [She's actually just about his best friend here, after Dean, but that doesn't mean he can't tease her. That's open season, actually, as far as he's concerned.]

Look-- she told me what happened, but whatever you think about her, she's not the same as she used to be. And she doesn't have a problem with you, that whole, uh... standing guard... situation aside. [But he warms a little at that, despite himself, because that had been very... sweet, really.]

[Contrary to what Felix had at least momentarily believed, Dean doesn't spend a great deal of time keeping tabs on him outside of emergency or dangerous situations. And Morgana had said as much, but she's not the one that has Dean's confidence in this. The confirmation from Felix, though, is another matter.

As is that little add on, Dean's voice going uncharacteristically dry.] Did she, now. [He wouldn't even need to dislike her to find it extremely unlikely she gave him the whole story or the truth. Dean honestly can't say either way whether she's changed or not - he registered that she'd disappeared and returned anyway, but he has no reason to try to talk to her on the whole - but he does know that he's still annoyed by what happened.

What happened that no one left knows about for sure. He'll only draw attention to it by making a big deal, and surely, Felix is the more paranoid between them. He won't trust easily enough to be fooled, right?

The annoyance is still there, though, when he tries again. She doesn't have a problem with him. Well, how generous of her.] Doyle will get along with almost anyone. Dunno about Ned and company. May as well give it a whirl.

Yes, she did. [And he knows she didn't give him the full story, because she admitted to it herself. That's actually, in a weird and roundabout way, why he trusts her. Most people here make excuses for themselves, but she never has, not with him. They're both flawed. They're both failures. He can talk to her about the things that his perfect warden boss and his perfect warden friend-plus don't understand.

Which is why he can't help but feel defensive on her behalf now. He straightens up a little, shoulders squaring, letting his tenuous grip on Dean's hand drop. There's technically nothing in what Dean said to argue with, but he looks openly annoyed all the same.] I'm sure if it's a problem, we can find something else to do. I wouldn't want to clutter up your poker game.

I take it Gaheris still merits an invitation, though?

Huh.

[Dean not only lets him, but he's uncomfortable enough now that he draws away some himself, folding his arms loosely over his torso after levering himself somewhat more upright. Oh, he can see the annoyance alright and he thinks he knows what it is, even though he'd offered to be somewhere else, even though...

Wait, what?] I didn't say that, it's... wait, what? What's Rhade got to do with anything?

Nothing. I'm just trying to make sure I know which of my friends has made it onto your good list, since you're so concerned about my social life. [Which is ridiculous, really. The whole point of keeping their distance is that they don't have to mix social circles or even pay attention to them, that they don't have to be this... involved.

He sighs and shakes his head, holding up his hands before getting to his feet.] Forget it. [It's not important. He's not going to let it be. Morgana is his friend and Dean is his friend and those can be separate things.] Can I use your shower?

[Dean, no stranger to statements that cut deceptively deep, just stares at Felix for several long moments like he can't believe he just heard that. Before he can stop it, the annoyance in his voice has shifted to residual anger - and indignation.]

I'm not just being a random asshole, here, Felix. Did s- [Dean doesn't know what all went on there, but he knows it was no accident, and he knows what the most likely explanation is. Whoever the target was - specific passengers, wardens, anyone on the Barge at all - it was an attack, not a mistake.

And any other day he wouldn't even hesitate; but this isn't any other day. Felix stands up, he's standing up without trouble or pain or the quick, furtive glance he probably thought Dean didn't notice. He came here with awesome news, unbelievably good news, and he offered to spend some time off with Dean on top of that, and this isn't a fight they need right now. Right now it doesn't even matter.

Felix says she's changed; Dean doesn't really believe that but it's not likely to matter in the next 48 hours, or before Dean can find out for himself. So Felix stands and asks about the shower, and Dean forces himself to let it go.

He waves vaguely towards the bathroom, then sits forward without getting up himself, raking both hands through his hair and down his face to try to clear it.]

Yeah. Of course. Yeah. [Maybe it's too late. Maybe he's already ruined the mood, but maybe not. Either way the best he can probably do right now is shut up, so he does.]

Edited 2013-05-29 06:21 (UTC)

She made a mistake. [It's positively icy this time, and in a tone that brooks no further argument. He doesn't want to hear it. He definitely doesn't want to fight about it. He might go back to Morgana and ask again later what exactly it was that happened, because he does ultimately trust Dean -- even if it's not to be a random asshole -- but he's not going to sit and listen to whatever he currently has to say on the topic of people changing or not changing, or forgiveness, or mistakes.

And if part of the reason he tells himself he doesn't have to care what Dean thinks of Morgana is that it means he has to care less what Dean would think of him if he knew more... Then fine. So be it. That's how it should be.

His good mood is definitely badly soured when he stalks into the bathroom, but he recovers under the spray of the shower. He's never made an issue of it openly, but this has been one of his greatest areas of frustration and embarrassment. However else he's feeling, something that's been tight inside him for a long time greatly loosens with the realization that he can do basic frakking things again like climb into a tub and stand there without help. No crutches, no need to sit. Using Dean's shower already eliminated the need to deal with the public inmate ones, but still, he remembers the tension there, the worry that someone would do something while he was so helpless, and -- sorry, Dean, but it is Morgana's words he remembers: he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.

He stays much longer than he needs to, as before just because he can, but he's much more cheerful when he comes out again, towel wrapped around his hips, curls still sticking wetly to his forehead.] Frak, that's the first time I've gotten a look at myself in the mirror, too. [He rubs his shoulder, over the absent tattoo, nose wrinkling.] I don't know how I feel about it. I look sort of... naked.

[Shut up, Deano.

It is, for once, his own voice he hears in his head telling him what to do; this one is his tactic, one he taught himself to avoid fights, contrary to popular belief. Head down, mouth shut, even if he's still a bit hot under the collar as Felix disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't want to argue, either.

Dean has moved by the time Felix comes out, pulled jeans on anyway and set his Bob Seger record playing low; he's calmer, too, shoving Morgana and mistakes and all the crap he possibly can off to one side while he busies himself doing things like replacing the salt line, taking more ibuprofen, folding Felix's clothes, and throwing his own into the ever fluctuating dirty pile. He's sitting at his desk, mainly toying with the tiny robot horse there rather than doing anything when Felix emerges.

It's easy to smirk at him. What came before isn't gone, but he's skilled at ignoring what he doesn't like and reaching instead for a better mood. He still sounds and looks a little tired, for him, but not anywhere near even just half an hour ago, and with quickly vanishing traces if any at all of his previous annoyance.]

Well, you do realize it's because you are naked, right? [Then, smiling more broadly as he straightens up in the chair, gives Felix all of his attention:] I can lay hands on a Sharpie or somethin' if it'd make you feel better, Emperor.

Emperor? [Unsurprisingly, not a reference he gets, and he's so used to that by now that it's easy to shrug off. He's not sure what a Sharpie is either, but he gets the basic intent, and it makes him grin. He moves over to Dean and pulls at the back of the chair, not hard enough to actually move it but enough to let Dean know it needs to be moved back. When there's space between the chair and the desk, he insinuates himself into it and bends down to kiss Dean lightly, playfully.]

So what would you give me if you could, then?

Re-Entry 09: Video/Spam

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