itstopped | Re-Entry 16: Video

Entry tags:

Re-Entry 16: Video

((Backdated to before Racetrack's disappearance, sometime after this thread.))

[Private to Trip, CC: Dean]

[Honestly, as remarkable as what's happened is, it's almost as remarkable that Felix is the first one to notice. He just really doesn't spend that much time in his own quarters anymore. But he stops by to pick something up, and that's when he notices the changes. Specifically, this one, which is why the camera is currently on what looks like a very standard shower.]

...Trip? [If he sounds completely bewildered, it's only because he is.]

[Friends filter (if you think you're on it, etc. Including you, Morgana.)]

I, um... I graduated today. [He still doesn't really sound like he believes it.] And for those of you who know what I was thinking about why I hadn't, I think I was right, because I'm not really sure what I'm going to do next. But... whatever happens, I wanted to say... thank you. To all of you. You deserve to hear that.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I do know one thing I'm going to do next. [He smiles slightly.] The CES showed me Picon once, just once... I'm going to go to the pub, get a bottle of something, and go sit there until it shows up again. Feel free to join me.

[Private to Racetrack and Claire Bennet, separately]

I'd like to ask you a question.

[Public]

[And this one is from the CES, later, when he seems to have found both his bottle and his world. He's sitting on a long stretch of beach, a low grassy hill rising behind him, the wind and salt in his hair; and even though the sun brings out all his imperfections -- how pale he's become under the olive tones of his skin, the shock of gray hair at his temples, the dark rings under his eyes -- he looks younger and softer than he ever has before. He takes a drink from the bottle and rubs a hand over his mouth.]

Does anyone know... has anyone ever stayed on this ship without becoming a warden?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Too late. Although it is, right now, a very tiny panic. Panic on a short leash.

Dean is quiet and still for several long moments, trying to find something to say. What he settles on has the brassy brightness of his most ready to hand smile.]

Well, shit. Congratulations.

Dean. [He's on to you, asshole.]

[The problem is, there really is a part of him that means it. There's a large part of him that is genuinely happy, sincerely proud, because he knew it would happen and because he wants Felix to not feel trapped here, to not feel trapped anywhere. He doesn't want him to be miserable. It's a powerful portion of whatever the hell his thoughts and the tightness in his chest are doing right now. It makes him want to go there, right now, and embarrass Felix with the sheer amount of noise he's capable of, and maybe throw him up against something and kiss his brains out, and then go get really, really drunk and celebrate.

But there's another part, too, the one he is both meticulously suppressing because to give in to it now is... he doesn't know what he'll say or do; but it's also suppressing him, keeping him from just going there, keeping him rooted to the spot and off the camera. He doesn't even hesitate.]

No, really. [And now it tips more towards the sincere side, because he does mean it.] You never deserved to be stuck here forever.

[And now it's his turn to go quiet, because he knows what he should say, but he also knows what it might do to Dean.]

Thank you.

[Which is not it. It's another stall. He sets the communicator down on the edge of the sink and sits down on the lid of the toilet, folding his arms.]

I'm... not sure what I'm going to do. [There it is, and he eyes the screen once it's out, watching for the reaction.]

[Don't you do that, he wants to say. What am I supposed to do with that? maybe, or maybe jump on it, grab it with both hands, spread out all the good things that come to mind as quickly as he can, convince Felix to stay. Yell at him maybe. Or ignore it all, every last shred of it, and live in this exact moment and be happy. Be happy for Felix, for them, and don't allow himself to look at tomorrow morning when it's all over.

Don't allow himself to hope. It's a good thing Felix knows what might happen to Dean, because Dean himself has no idea. His end, still audio only, is dead silent until he's stalling himself by handling the communicator, pushing buttons, back-locking the entire conversation to private. By the time he's done, he thinks, he'll have an answer.

He doesn't. He thinks maybe he should cut the feed before he says or does something stupid. He doesn't.]

[He'd honestly expected... something, something more than that. The anger, maybe. Pleading. Or a knock on the door. Video, certainly. When nothing happens, except the tiny little notification on his screen, he swallows, something in his gut fluttering uncertainly.]

Dean?

Felix, I...

[In the end, what he's feeling comes down to two basic choices: he can be supportive, or he can be an ass. Both are well represented right now. And maybe being supportive would be the asshole thing to do, and maybe he won't be able to tip things either way here, now, or ever. He doesn't have that kind of power.

But what if he does. There is one thing, and he's not sure which side of the fence it ultimately falls on, but he does know this. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he'd told John, told Sam, pointblank and plainly. Probably not much. And Felix already knows anyway, so it's not like there's much that can change here, either.

He orders himself to stop overthinking it, and his voice is even and tense when he speaks at last.] I don't want you to go.

[Well, that's more what he was thinking would happen, anyway. One of the options. He nods, equally tense.] I know.

And I know that's selfish.

[He barely even pauses, now that he's started, although by the sound of it he surprises even himself with that. He almost cuts off the end of Felix's response.

Dean has no pride, not when it comes to this, although it's not exactly pleading, either.]

But I can't help it. And I'm not gonna pretend like I can. I'm not gonna act like I'm okay with it if that's what...

Wait. I thought you'd pretty much already made up your mind.

I had. [He clasps his hands in his lap, frowns down at them.] And there's a part of me that thinks I should stand by that, but... I don't know, these last few weeks...

[A beat.] I've been looking at what I have.

[And that's when Dean knows he's screwed. He knew it before, of course, he's known it this whole time, but Felix says that and the tiny twist of hope becomes something much sharper and much deadlier. Something he has to grab hold of, or it'll kill him right here and right now.

When Dean draws in a breath to speak, it catches on something in his throat, but he speaks over it with a rough kind of determination, and a brittle kind of wonder.]

You're serious. [Felix, of all people, would not be saying what he's saying if he wasn't. It's not a question.]

I don't-- [He hears that roughness in Dean's voice and it catches in his own throat, makes it harder to breathe. He shouldn't have said anything, he thinks. He shouldn't have said anything, but how long could he have kept this a secret? Maybe he should have tried.

Because now, if he ends up being wrong, it's only going to hurt Dean that much more. So much more than if he'd just gone through with it in the first place. He sighs and ducks his head, running his hands agitatedly through his hair.]

I just think I need more time. [Or maybe it's just that he wants more time.]

[That is true, and Dean knows it, too. The problem is he decided to trust Felix a long time ago and maybe he did so knowing the gun was already at his temple, but it had felt right then. It feels right now. Dean has gambled for less important things with less incentive, with less certainty.

His answer, this time, is swift.] Okay.

[It's a no brainer, really, but at least now Dean knows which way to jump. He still feels unsettled, precarious, vulnerable, but at last comes the offer that would have, at any other time, come first.] You want me to come up there?

[This, he doesn't have to think about.] Yes. Please.

Alright. I'm on my way.

[The feed cuts and then he is, indeed, on his way. He wants in equal parts to bolt up to Felix's cabin as fast as he can, like he'll disappear in between while Dean isn't talking to him and can't see him. At the same time, his heartbeat is loud in his ears and he feels mildly light headed and he doesn't know how to feel. Dean takes the time in between, then, to try to be more sure of himself, more certain of what's going to come out of his mouth when he opens it, what's going to happen when he sees Felix, because he honestly doesn't know. It's disconcerting, and mildly alarming, but he can't not go.]

Felix? [It turns out that when he walks in the door, the single word inquiry does come out more tense than he would've liked, anxious in a way he can't help and doesn't normally give in to; but it also turns out that really, not much else changes. He looks like Dean, dressed for maintenance work in jeans and workboots and an open buttondown and t-shirt, albeit a very tightly coiled Dean; and he still smiles when he spots Felix, relieved and grateful before he stuffs that down again; and he still makes a beeline for him, eager to lay hands on and reassure himself the best way he knows how, and Felix too if he needs it, if he'll accept it.

It's easier, now that he's still here, now that he hasn't disappeared yet, to let the smile slip towards a grin, to maybe let himself believe it a bit more, even if there's something almost fierce and a little desperate in how tight his arms cinch around Felix, how long he holds on. Having that reassurance makes it possible to say what he should've said first, probably, and he does so now on a slow exhale.] I'm proud of you.

[Felix remains in the bathroom when Dean switches off; in fact, he doesn't move from where he's sitting until he hears the door. He feels stuck, even trapped. It's not lost on him, the irony that he should feel this way on the day, in the moment he's finally become free. Now it's just a different kind of trap, though: now it's one of his own making. A lot of it is Dean, of course, and it never would have happened if not for him -- It's okay to want to be here while you're here -- but it's other things, too.

The lab. The library. His friends. All the strange and sometimes wonderful things he's been telling himself he hasn't wanted anything to do with, all the potential mysteries he hasn't let himself even approach. The second chance he's only just starting to realize he might want after all, if not for himself than for... someone, anyway. A new mission he's not ready to turn down.

Maybe it's not that he wants to be here, but that he doesn't want to go just yet. And he knows that's not fair to Dean at all, to dangle that possibility in front of him, to give him a hope that might turn out to be false. But Dean has said again and again that if he can only enjoy things while he has them, he wants to try, and... at least maybe Felix can give him that much. A few more days, weeks, however long, and by choice this time.

He stands up when he hears the voice in the main room, goes to greet him, accepting the hug without a word. He holds back tight, not even minding for once the way his ribs practically creak under the pressure, as if trying to say everything he's feeling -- relief and regrets both -- without having to say them out loud. He's not sure what to say to I'm proud of you, either -- he's not sure, right now, what there is to be proud of -- so he just kisses his cheek and pulls back, pulling up a smile.]

Let's keep the party small, okay?

[Maybe it isn't fair, maybe it's Dean's fault for knowingly setting himself up for it, but there is one big advantage to the life Dean has lead so far: he knows damn well and fine never to expect fair. That's not to say there's not still fear, not still anger sometimes, but he doesn't even hesitate to seize onto what Felix has given him with both hands - figuratively and literally.

It might, he realizes when Felix goes to pull away and some irrational part of him drops a sharp weight directly from his throat to his gut, be more of a problem than he'd anticipated. His first instinct is to tighten his grip and he does, but when his mind catches up to itself and he sternly tells himself that Felix isn't going to disappear the moment Dean isn't crushing him up against his side, he reluctantly let's go. A little. Felix is joking and Dean doesn't know what to do with that for a moment, he still feels a little breathless, like just managing to step away from a deadly drop before his foot goes over the edge. He shakes it off, though, smiles back determinedly.]

Fine. But at least you're acknowledging that there will be a party. [It's easy to tease, normally, but he stalls out there for a moment, fingers cur;ed thoughtlessly, securely, into the fabric of Felix's shirt. He doesn't notice.] I uh. There's not much going on. I can take the day off and we can do... something.

I mean christ, we should DO something.

[He does. His eyes fall to where Dean's hand is fixed in his shirt, and he quietly covers it with one of his own.] We don't need to do anything. I mean, you don't-- I don't need a party.

[And it's not even his aversion to being social, this time. He'd enjoyed the last one, and lately, he's been feeling... well, not really back to the way things used to be, he doesn't think he'll ever get there, but better. More like things were, at least, before the leg and before the wasteland Earth. He'd had friends, then, and a job he liked, and Louis, and even with all the other things he'd been feeling, the lingering effects of New Caprica and the Colonies... that had been enough, once.

And it might again, he's only just starting to realize. But if it's not... No, he doesn't want a party. Not when he's still this unsure, when his grip on this new perspective is so tenuous. At best, it would feel forced. What would they be celebrating? Even if he has choices now, his choices are still to live here or die in his own world or go off somewhere alone.

He curls his fingers around Dean's, licking his lips uncertainly.] I was thinking I'd go to the CES for a while. Now that I don't need you to let me in, but... that's not to say you can't come with me.

[Something occurs to him, then, and he looks back up, eyes narrowing suspiciously.] Or you could go back to work. I'm not going to go anywhere without telling you first.

You do realize that before coming here, my idea of "party" was me, Sam, and a six-pack, right? Unless I was crashing someone else's. [It sounds pathetic but it has the benefit of being true, and Dean is too distracted to bother with anything other than candid honesty. He glances at their hands now but it still doesn't quite register, because Felix is still talking.]

Okay. I mean yeah, sure. I meant it: there's not much going on, now everyone's pretty much back on their feet, and Anya does what she wants anyway. [He should probably feel worse about this. He does not. He is, in fact, in the process of deciding if they should stick with beer from the fridge or get something better from the pub - Felix doesn't know what there is to celebrate, but Dean does, and he can show him how to pick and choose the good from the bad - when Felix looks up at him at the same time as Dean finally realizes he hasn't let go of him yet.

The combination, as well as Dean's fully acknowledged inability to hide the fact that he's been thinking about that exact thing, is enough to make him hesitate with a flash of honest guilt through his eyes. Some of the cheer drains off his face as he considers trying to deny it, but then something else occurs to him and he switches gears abruptly, that roughness back in his voice from wherever he'd had it stowed.]

Sometimes people think that's better. To just go, without warning. [Dean's thought it himself, of course, and he's done it in the past; to Lisa, he'd thought for years that he should've done with Cassie, with Buffy. But he remembers John, remembers Sam springing his bullshit on them out of nowhere, that he'd intended to just slip off, already had the bus ticket and everything. His fingers only tighten where they are, though it's not conscious.] It's not. It's not easier, at least not on the people left behind. It's not easier and it's not better.

I understand. [He says it firmly, not tenderly, his eyes still locked intently on Dean's. For him, it's Dee. It will always be Dee. And he'll always forgive her, but that doesn't make it any easier.] And I won't do that. If things... change back, and if it's within my power to do so, if it's not the Admiral's decision, you'll know first. I won't do anything without talking to you. I promise.

[And he's a liar and a traitor and a spy, even to the person he loves most in the world, but... whatever in Dean makes him trust him anyway, he hopes it will trust him on this.]

[Dean wouldn't have believed tender, here. It's the firmness that makes him waver, though nothing about him advertises this outside of his own thoughts at first. His eyes are there, too, steady and unwavering, searching for anything at all that will tell him this is anything other than the absolute truth. That this is the one time Felix will try to do something to spare his feelings, the one time he'll coddle Dean in some way.

That he'll say this to him now and maybe not the moment Dean leaves the room but the next time something happens, the next time he's feeling more bad than good, that'll be it. The door will be empty, and he'll never know.

But there isn't, and there is one thing Dean knows: Felix may be all of those things but from day one, Dean has been attracted to the goodness in him. To the part that did that, all of it, trying to help. He breaks his gaze away and down, because Felix may not realize it, Dean has given freely of his trust and his faith before now, but this is something Dean isn't sure he can give. And it's something, he realizes in the next moment, that he's going to have to anyway.

So he nods, and he deliberately, reluctantly, eases his grip on Felix's shirt.]

Okay. [Quiet at first, Dean clears his throat and tries again.] Okay. Thank you.

[The problem is that he can't guarantee that part of that might not be true. He can't promise that he won't want to leave, or worse, when things get bad again, and they both know they will. He can't promise anything about this is permanent. He can't even promise it will last more than a week, although ideas are starting to crystallize in his head that he suspects will occupy him beyond then. All he can promise is to love and respect Dean enough, and to be brave enough, for a proper goodbye.

But, yes. That much, he can do.

He lifts a hand to Dean's cheekbone, grazing his fingers over it, eyes softening a little.] I... don't completely know what to do. [It's an admission, a confession.] I mean, gods-- if I stay here, I don't have to warden, do I?

[Dean is taking things, as ever, one day at a time. One step, one obstacle at a time. If he can believe Felix won't choose to disappear on him, it will be enough for now. And if Dean, at least, knows that he's been waiting for that from the beginning, well. They've made it this far. They can go a little further.

He won't ask Felix to promise that it's permanent, as much as he wants to. He knows where ultimatums land people, land him specifically, and he knows too that this is truly the best he could have hoped for. More than he had any right to, maybe. Maybe not.

The touch at his cheek draws Dean's eyes back, and he finally manages to drop his hand away from its hold, if only to rest instead on Felix's hip. This is a more casual form of contact, though, more typical of them from day to day. The corner of his mouth twitches at the problem before them, neither up nor down, but he does take it seriously.

And then a bit more amusement at the horror inherent in the idea of wardening for Felix.]

You'd make a good warden. [It's a tease because that's easiest, but he means it. He also moves on before anything can be said about that.] I've never heard of anyone being kicked off directly after graduating. I guess the asshole realizes people need some time to figure shit out. And I've had a few people... ah. I've had a few people go home without ever being paired, so either they never made up their minds to warden, or it took 'em that long to decide... where to go.

[This much, Dean can speak to with certainty. He's been here long enough, seen enough people move through.] I don't think you have to know what to do.

[He pulls a bit of a face at you'd make a good warden, nose wrinkling slightly. Even then, though, he can't say he sounds completely certain when he mutters:] I think I'll pass on that.

[After all, it's not as if he doesn't understand the value of the deals. He still has no intention of asking for the Colonies to be restored -- every objection he'd made to that still holds true, after all. But there are other things, more achievable things. And it's not as though he relishes any better the idea of living under the Admiral's roof and rules, taking advantage of everything there is to offer, and... freeloading, essentially. He's a lot of things, but he's never been that. He rubs a hand thoughtfully over his mouth, frowning.]

There are... other ways to work, aren't there? Other things I could do. I had a few ideas-- I mean, for all I know, that was finished it anyway, having ideas.

[Dean shrugs: he's not taking opinions on that. All he has to do is remember all the times Felix has demanded others be accountable, others be better, others look at what is in front of them instead of what they want to believe about themselves and the people around them and he knows. Not wanting to do it is one thing, but he would be good at it if he did.

Freeloading doesn't occur to Dean, of course, though maybe eventually it would have. He thinks on an individual scale, and he is biased towards the people he cares about, and it's not as though Felix wouldn't be an asset whether he chose to actively warden or not. No, instead he hears I had a few ideas and other things I could do and whatever it is that is making it hard for him to stop touching Felix, whatever it is that is helplessly, painfully hopeful, cuts a little deeper.

He smiles.] You know I got no clue how the Admiral works, but I would think so. You're one of what, four people on board qualified to work the engine room that hasn't also tried to take it over, and I don't see people running to take a stab at the laboratory. And there's the annexe: maybe you don't have a doctorate, yet, but you've got a lot rattling around in there that other people don't know and might want to, might need to.

[He tugs lightly at Felix's hip, jostling them mildly without any further intent.] There's still a lotta good you can do. And, knowing you, you will.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

~~~> Private + Retroactive Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private ~~~> Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam