itstopped | Re-Entry 15: Video/Spam

[Inmate Filter]

[It was a very good weekend with a very bad ending for Felix, which might be why he's back to smoking in front of the camera again. The collar of his shirt is unbuttoned as well, although he otherwise seems as composed as usual.]

Do any of you know why you're here?

[He pauses, then smirks ruefully.] For once, I'm not trying to sow dissent. I don't need you to tell me what kind of monster the Admiral is. I'm just... wondering what you think it is he thinks you need to change, and...

Well, no and. Just that.

[Private to Claire Bennet]

Could I ask you a question?

[Private to Trip, Racetrack, Barbara, Charles, separately]

I have something to tell you. [He glances away from the screen for a second, worry -- or something worse -- flashing in his eyes.] I... think I might really be a traitor this time.

If you're receiving this message-- [A tacit, almost wordless admission that there are others involved here, multiple victims.] --it's because I've been gathering information on you. My resources have been... limited, but I've compiled a detailed file that contains more or less everything you've said on any public or warden-only filter, and in some cases, in private communications as well.

I honestly thought that, given my... my history, I was doing what was best for myself and for the ship, but I realize now that I was wrong. I take full responsibility for my actions.

[Spam for Dean]

[Felix had left the room as soon as Dean had, the night after the flood, and he's been laying even lower than usual ever since. It's not that he wants to stay away, not this time -- he's just assuming that Dean wants nothing to do with him, and as much as he already misses him, he doesn't want to provoke a confrontation when he has nothing more to say in his own defense and no particularly convincing argument to make Dean take him back.

Honestly, things seem to go better for him when he avoids conflicts, anyway.

Unfortunately, though, he actually needs some things from the room, so he tries to pick a time when he suspects Dean won't be around. He still has the key, so he slips inside quietly and starts collecting his things, with every intention of leaving the key behind and no further trace of himself.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Dean had been telling the truth: the concern that he's crumbling is legitimate. But he's also become accustomed to people - to Felix - expecting more from him and, because of this, sometimes he can be more. The cracks Felix had been so concerned about are back out of sight, now, Dean's attention intent and unwavering, as if he can believe the good things into existence for them. As if he's never been more sure of anything in his life.

That's not true, either, not entirely, because when Felix continues not saying anything Dean is certain he said something wrong, that this entire conversation has turned everything on its ear. He still can't regret it. He can't regret showing Felix what he did, both good and bad, won't take back what he said. He's taking a breath to try to break the stalemate, say something, anything, he doesn't know when Felix takes it out of his hands.

Felix's fingertips slide over his bare skin and, shiver running out and down his spine, Dean knows it's going to be alright. For now, anyway, somehow it's going to be alright. Felix is sagging against him and Dean feels like he can breathe again so he does, eyes closing partway, breathing into the same space where their foreheads are leaned together; his own arms come up and if Felix is gentle, Dean isn't.

He tightens his arms securely around Felix, pulling him close and tight unapologetically, shifting in his position so they can settle more completely against one another. He doesn't let go or ease up, as if he can keep Felix safe here by sheer force of will, as if he can just hang onto him indefinitely. He'll let Felix stay there as long as he needs to, as long as he will; Dean is done, he thinks, wasting both of their time trying to keep him at arm's length.]

I'm sorry. [His voice is low, the exact middle of the road, halfway between sincere apology for all the things he's done wrong or that have hurt Felix - scaring him, pushing him away, keeping this from him, putting this on his shoulders - and using one set of words to mean another. Sorry because he loves Felix and he can't be sorry for that. He won't.]

[He shifts with him, curls into him, head falling to burrow into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tight around him then, and for a while his only reply is to shake his head at the apology. It's his fault -- so much of it is, including the reason they haven't spoken since Tuesday, and even if he can admit Dean is hurting him, he can't deny that he's doled out his fair share of harm at this point.

This is, of course, the thing that's wearing at him so, eating at him so, the very reason he's been and on some level still is so eager to die: because caring about anything seems to necessitate pain, both giving and receiving wounds no matter how hard he tries not to, and if he's learned anything this past year it's that he's never going to be able to stop caring. Too much. He's not even sure why he still tries so hard to work himself to collapse, except that it's one of the only three ways he knows how to fall asleep at all. And this, too: he loves Dean, the Dean he knows, too much, so much that he doesn't always know how to cope with it when his image of his Dean Winchester is shaken.

It's true that he doesn't know what to do with a Dean that's cracking inside. He does need him to be more than that, at least for a little while. He needs Dean to hold him, because no one else he's ever loved like this ever has.

Except this is where they are, and this is what they do have, and he promised not to hide from the truth anymore.

He's quiet for a time, so still that he could almost have fallen asleep if his eyes weren't open. Eventually, he lets out an almost silent sigh and gives the back of Dean's neck a rub, shifting back just enough to make it easier to talk without muffling the sound.]

We can still help each other, for now. You've been helping me, and... I can't say I'll be very good at it, but... there must be something I can do.

[The Dean under Felix's hands now is the same Dean as he's always been; as far as Felix and the Barge are concerned, anyway. He came here wounded and barely holding together, but no one knew him well enough to see. By the time anyone did he'd learned to plaster over the new cracks, to shore up the new weaknesses, because he's had his eye on the prize at the end the entire time and it's been enough to keep him moving forward, anyway.

And it's not always fake. It is in his nature to be warm and light-hearted, confident and sure, and yes, even a pompous ass. He does his best work on holding himself together when other people need him to, and he knows that, he's known it for longer than anyone would be able to guess. He's never questioned that Felix needs him. That's part of why it's so easy for him to cross the gap between them whenever Felix needs it, to make time, to push closer. It's just what he does.

Most would think that it's unusual, how still and steady Dean holds while Felix stays curled up against him, unmoving except for the slow path of his fingers from time to time brushing a slow, soothing trail over Felix's skin, his hair, over the fabric of his clothes under Dean's hands. But this is just more of the same from when they share a bed the night through, Dean gravitating to draping an arm here, tangling their feet together there, burying his face in the back of Felix's neck and wanting to keep contact even in sleep. It steadies him, too.

Felix pulls back and Dean opens his eyes more fully, tilting his head just enough to be able to meet his lover's eyes, skin prickling under the attentions of Felix's fingers. The corner of his mouth tugs, amused by the caveat, and he does consider it before answering as honestly as he can.]

You already have been. Really. [That sounds... like it sounds. Like a blow-off, or an easy out, or maybe an outright lie. He tries again, although he meant that at its simplest.] You were one of my first friends here, fresh off losing Sammy. And yeah, we're a pain in each others' ass, but... when I've asked, you've been here.

[Felix is notoriously reticent, and it is unusual, not just to the casual observer but objectively so, how long he stays this time. Longer, in fact, than he's entirely comfortable with, long enough that Dean's warmth starts to overwhelm a little, that things start to feel a little claustrophobic. But whatever Dean is saying, it does sound like a blow-off, and... this is something he can do, now that he really thinks about it. Dean is always trying to touch, seeking out contact, and while he's been slowly wearing Felix down on the subject, he could do more. He'll do more, he thinks.

It's a compromise, but it doesn't feel like a sacrifice -- not when he knows what he's asking from Dean in return. He doesn't answer out loud, but his own lips quirk in response, either accepting the correction or dismissing it without argument. Instead, he draws him down into the kiss he'd put off earlier, light and soft, a promise he doesn't need to put into words this time. Because it's true: he has tried, at least, to be around, whether or not Dean says please. He may not be able to say he'll stay forever, but he can say this much. He's here now. He can keep being here now.]

Re-Entry 15: Video/Spam

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