hfm_logs | Don't camp the spawn point [CLOSED]

Entry tags:

Don't camp the spawn point [CLOSED]

Warnings: Potential violence
Location: Atop the spire
Characters: Peridot, Greg Universe, eventually Agent Washington
When: The day after their deaths/disappearance, respectively
Summary: So, we got murdered. How 'bout that.

Everything hurt.

Greg registered that fact, before even registering he was awake. All parts of him ached just for being in existence, not the least of which was the throbbing in his head, muddying his thoughts from processing anything more than how deeply uncomfortable it was to be--

--alive.

He tried to open his eyes, and was met with further assault on his being, light attacking him and blurring out the world. He groaned, and felt it rattle through his chest in a piercing burn. The sound choked out with a whimper, and he curled on himself a little. Was he really alive? Was this how it was supposed to feel? Or was this actually just how things turned out, after...? Sucking in a breath, he felt newly-repaired lungs complaining for the effort, and Greg creaked his eyes open again.

It was... a nice place. Bright, and clean, and green, and... familiar. Greg blinked, and attempted sitting up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea. Oh wow, everything is terrible. Why is everything so terrible in such a nice place. Oooorgh. He curled in on himself further, waiting for the illness to pass, or at least lessen. It took a long time.

This was the spire, right? The garden on top. He had only been here once before, the months ago when he'd arrived. Since then, he'd only been to the lower levels, checking to see if missing friends had ended up like Wash had said. Slowly, carefully, Greg looked down to his chest. Even as it throbbed with sharp pain, it was in perfect condition. No wound, no scar, not even a bruise. Just like Wash had said, after all. So he really had...

For a long time, Greg didn't move. His brain was running in circles, trying to process all that happened, to remember it, to forget it. He'd died. He'd died. And now he wasn't dead. Regenerated. Weakly, he felt fingers nudging at his stomach, just making sure. Eventually, he gave sitting up another try--a creaky, queasy process, but successful in the end. It was necessary, just to properly take stock of everything, ensure he hadn't spawned a new haircut or outfit or something. But no, everything looked just the same as ever. He kept finding himself gingerly rubbing at his chest, double and triple checking that really nothing was there. Clean, smooth, kinda hairy, untouched skin.

He'd died, and he was back. And that meant... everything was fine? Was that how it was? That's how the Gems did it. It didn't even phase them. And here he was, good as new. So he should feel. Okay. Everything was... okay. He just had to go back to living, like nothing had happened. Return to his apartment, to his girlfriend, to--

"Rose--ooohohoooo, ow, oh, okay, no..."

Getting up too quickly brought another crash of vertigo, and his knees buckled under the effort, leaving him reeling on the ground again. Rose didn't know. Rose had seen--he was a human, she didn't know, she'd think... he'd left her to think the worst, he should have warned her. Even now that he was awake, he couldn't even get up, could hardly even move to let her know. He couldn't keep leaving her waiting. Damn it.

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"Mmmph, not sure," said Casey around the apple slice he popped whole into his mouth. "Uh, musta moved it when I was lookin' for somethin'. Forgot to put it back. I'll grab yours." With that, he sprinted towards Bones's room.

He'd put the regular kit back when Bones wasn't watching.

...And he may have hung back a little bit while Bones explained what happened. Half because it had been bad enough hearing it the first time...and half because he wanted to see if he could hear what Greg was saying to Rose through the wall (he couldn't.)

Oh well, he brought the kit back once he was sure Bones had finished and grabbed another slice.

Wash raised an eyebrow as Casey bolted out of the room, waiting until he heard a door slam to look back at Bones. "You know he's lying, right?"

He quieted down at Bones' explanation, slowly closing his eyes. That...that explained a lot. "Greg defended her," he said after a few moments. "On the spire. Or- he didn't tell me what happened, at least. He said it was an accident - a mistake." Probably because he knew that Wash would put a knife through Peridot's gem if he'd found out what happened - an option that was still on the table, as it turned out. Evidently Wash wasn't as over the idea of revenge as he'd thought. "The way he's been acting, I wouldn't be surprised if he blames himself."

"He ain't the only one." He tipped his head back to the sink. "Run your hand under the tap."

It wasn't much, but it'd be a start. Little things. If he focused on the little things he would worry less 'bout the big things. Like death. Dy'n. Coming BACK from that. "...has it changed all that much? Com'n back from it. You're a soldier and prolly braced for that shit but Greg's-"

He trailed off. "Trauma is trauma. I dunno that he has a way t'cope. I dunno that you got one either." The less said about his own inability to cope? The better. "Why on God's Green Earth would he blame HIMSELF for do'n the decent thing and try'n to protect the woman he loves? In what bizzaro mirror universe is THAT a thing that he oughta feel?"

"Just because I don't immediately announce that I'm bleeding doesn't mean I'm lying," Wash groused, tossing the bloody paper towels in the trash and turning the sink on.

He stopped and stared, incredulous, as Bones kept talking. Was that what he really thought? "At some point, we're going to talk about what you think of soldiers, because that was the single most fucked up thing I've heard all week."

The comment about coping mechanisms didn't go unnoticed either, but he just leveled Bones with a flat stare. The level of hypocritical bullshit in this conversation was staggering. "Because he has no self-esteem. He died, and it hurt the people he loves, so he thinks it's his fault, regardless of what actually happened."

"...I'll be honest that the few times I've run into that kinda folk it's left a pretty sour impression. But that's my reality, not yours." He'd have to try to keep his thoughts on that shit to himself. Wash wasn't a thing like Marcus or his men. Not even a little.

Focus on the pastry. focus on the pie. He kept kead'n and roll'n, putt'n his shoulders and back into it just to keep himself going. It worked well enough. "That is some bullshit. How are we gonna convince him that's bullshit- cuz it is just that. You don't take a bullet for someone and then blame yourself cuz you made 'em feel bad."

The hypocrisy here was stronger than even Wash knew. "You did what needed do'n, they can deal. Greg did what he thought was right and yeah. It was awful. I missed him like crazy. I was greiv'n. But he did what he felt needed t'be done. And I'm not 'bout to blame him for that. If Miz Rose does I'm gonna have some unkind words for her- and I'm not one to have words with a Lady."

"Well congratulations, now you live with one," Wash deadpanned. "And we're still having that talk." It would just have to be later. One crisis at a time.

"She won't." He shook his head, turning the water just a bit colder. "She'll tell him he's just human, and that he shouldn't be involved in battles, and she'll try to protect him, and it'll kill whatever confidence he has left." He was already fairly certain that Greg's current lack of self-esteem came from Rose, and possibly the other Crystal Gems if they had the same attitude; her ramping up her level of concern would only make things worse for Greg.

"Yeah, but you haven't tried t'kill me." Did that come out? That came out. He needed more sleep so that shit wouldn't happen.

Gonna skip right over that entirely.

"Just Human. JUST human? Any alien that didn't have their head up their own ass that spends ANY amount of time around us knows we're so much goddamn more than just human." Those words might have to happen whether he liked it or not. "Goddamn condescend'n- I thought my world was the only place that had to put up with that kinda bullshit. "

Edited 2015-09-14 22:03 (UTC)

For a moment, Wash just stared, thought processes completely wiped out by that reply. What had happened to Bones to make him mistrust all soldiers that badly - badly enough that he'd still see Wash in that light? "I wasn't exactly planning to," he finally managed.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"Well, it sounds like Gems don't. Rose thinks we're cute, and Peridot thinks we're scum, but the basic attitude is pretty much the same." How Bones could keep thinking his was the only world with disagreeable aliens when Wash had told him about the Covenant's attempted genocide was beyond Wash, but evidently he'd barely scratched the surface when it came to Bones' thought processes.

Well, Casey got nothing from Greg. Apparently these walls were thicker than the ones in his own apartment back in NYC. Still, hanging out in Bones's bathroom gave him a bit of breathing room to process what was even going on.

Conclusion: Shit sucked. And there just wasn't much Casey could do about it. Wash was moving like he'd had the crap kicked out of him, Bones was using pie and booze to soothe, and Greg was close to losing it if he hadn't already. Who knows what was going to happen when Rose got here. Or...didn't get here, whatever she decided.

Casey leaned back on the sink and heaved a heavier sigh than he thought he was capable of. OK, he'd screwed around here enough, picking up the kit and pushing his way out of the room...into a conversation he actually knew something about.

"Seems like every alien does that kinda BS. When all the invasion stuff went down with the Kraang in my room the big Kraang Prime jerk said somethin' about making humans with monkeys and mutagen before they tried to make slaves outta everyone." He set the kit on the counter realizing there wasn't much more to do than let that statement hang there. Maybe he shouldn't have said it in the first place.

"We've got a coupla species that don't think much of the Federation, Starfleet, or Humanity but for the most part they stay on their side of the Neutral Zone, we stay on ours." Usually. There was the odd skirmish or misunderstanding. So far the worst shit that's happened in the past five years came from something they couldn't possibly defend from-

And their own goddamn kind.

Leonard finished lining the tins with the pastry and laid in the apples, starting the lattice for the top. It was simple, habitual work. Something that settled him when he thought back to the Vengeance. The Narada. Marcus and Khan and Nero.

"Vulcans tend t'find us curious with how we let our emotions and instincts influence our choices, but they're a long lived logic based society. Still. Even with an understand'n on the cultural differences be'n told we're less just cuz we ain't them is a pain in the ass." Then Casey dropped his little bomb and.

Shit.

"...the fuck kind of mutagen makes humans outta monkeys?"

Wash paused in reaching for the first aid kit, hand hanging limply in midair. Wash's aliens were terrifying; Bones' were annoying; and Casey's were...well...

"Casey, has anyone ever told you your home life is really weird?" he finally managed, jumpstarting his thought processes well enough to finish what he'd started. He turned the tap off, opened the kit, pulled out antiseptic and bandages, and set to work bandaging his hand.

"The same kinda mutagen that makes cats outta ice cream," Casey shrugged, hopping up to sit on the part of the counter that Bones and Wash weren't using. "Still way better than havin' a normal life."

Except when it gets his friends killed. But apparently they can work on that part?

...It's really confusing him, so lets stick with aliens for awhile. "Wonder if there's aliens in my world that don't wanna mess up humanity." There sure were a lot of dimensions in those Kraang portals. so there at least has to be ONE.

She didn't answer. Greg thought about calling again, but realized it was pointless. Either she'd left her communicator, or she didn't want to talk.

So that meant he needed to find her. The guys wouldn't let him leave, and he wasn't exactly able to pull a Casey and sneak out a window, even on a good day. He briefly spun out a list of possibilities, each shut down before he could finish thinking of them. He was a hopeless case, and even if he had a way to find her, there was the fact that she may well just not want to be found.

If he wasn't going to find Rose, then he had to figure out what he'd do next. He didn't necessarily want to be around anyone else, but he didn't want to be alone, either. There was a bed here, awfully inviting, and ready to lure him in to whatever nasty surprises his unconscious had waiting for him. Not yet. Bones had been making food. Food might be good. With a little luck, they'd find a subject to get his mind off this, at least a little.

They were talking about aliens. Aliens and their rough relations with humanity, and how they messed with human history and misunderstood the culture.

Greg didn't say anything. He just went to the couch.

"...Ice cream cat." He froze and stared at Casey for a solid minute. Then stared at Wash. "Ice cream cat? Ice cream cat. He said that. You heard that."

Anyone else he would blame the frontal lobe damage on. But- word salad wasn't a symptom of-

Ice cream cat.

"How does. How- that. Ice cream can't sustain it's own- I." Congratulations Casey.

You broke bones.

What. The fuck.

For a good long while, Wash just stared. "That doesn't seem physically possible," he managed weakly.

Well, fuck it, wasn't that what Dream Eaters were made of? Kind of?

...Okay no not really, but it was a good enough justification for him to get his brain functioning again. He tied off his bandage, patted Bones on the shoulder, and headed over to Greg. "Hey." Boy, did he look like hell. "Did she pick up?"

OK, that was funny. The longer Bones and Wash stared, the harder Casey started to laugh. "Turns out it totally is! I've seen mutant cars, a giant bird-fish-worm combo, skeleton dog-men..."

...Maybe that was less normal than Casey realized? He'd been friends with mutants for so long and the mutagen made such cool monsters and Wash and Bones were from the space-future and the Kraang were dimension hoppers. Maybe they needed to know for the future? "I didn't really catch the technical explanation, but Kraang mutagen basically kinda...unzips your DNA and zips it back up with whatever you touched last?"

Oh, hey, Greg's back. He hopped off the counter to a spot where he can talk to Bones and watch the others at the same time. "Uh, point is, don't get any on you."

"No." He shrugged one shoulder. "I left a message."

Jeez. He didn't want to lump here like a big sadsack. There had to be something he could say, that would distract from horrifying alien fusion experiments. Anything.

"Leo, what's the ETA on the food?"

"...ice cream cat." He mumbled one last time before finishing up the pie lattices and sliding them in the oven. Right.

Food.

"Pie's gonna take thirty, but if you gimme ten I can whip up either burgers or tacos, your choice." They had everything they needed for both in the neverending fridge of wtf.

Yeah no that wasn't helping. "Either change the subject or drop it, Casey." Everyone's mood was off balance enough as it was; no reason to make it any worse. Or weirder. Or both.

He put a hand lightly on Greg's shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll turn up."

Yes, she most certainly will. In fact, nearly the moment Wash says those words, the door just happens to slam open, revealing the huge Crystal Gem.

Talk about timing.

"Greg?!" She looks a little worse for wear- sporting a few cuts and bruises since anyone last saw her. Rose doesn't seem too concerned about herself, though. Or concerned about anyone else in the room, really, other than the one person she's looking at, who not long ago had been laying dead, and now looks... completely fine. Just as fine as he'd sounded when she heard his message. Rose can't spot a thing wrong with him.

She walks over, and places a hand on Greg's cheek smiling gently. "You're... really okay, aren't you?"

A readout of Greg's heart could have recorded the fastest ever turnaround from coming to a complete stop, to trying to rocket right out of his chest.

"Rose--!" It was good that she rushed to his side so quickly, or else he'd have run to her, and his legs absolutely would have given out. His hand reached up over hers, grasping it. "Rose...

"I'm--I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... to leave you alone." She'd done it to him once, though he'd still been left with an amazing gift of a child, friends, family, the knowledge she'd wanted it so. He couldn't imagine how much worse he'd left her.

"It's alright. I understand, Greg, you don't need to worry." She reaches forward, placing her other hand on Greg's shoulder, and pulling him into a tight hug, just holding him for a while. Enjoying his warmth, and the steady beating of his heart. He's okay. She's not quite sure how, but he's fine.

She does eventually pull away though, leaving her hands on his shoulders and giving him a serious look. "But... next time a situation like that comes up, I want you to listen to me, okay...? That... isn't something I ever want either of us to have to experience again."

"Yeah... yeah, of course." He still felt so stupid. He hadn't even been trying to fight, and he'd just made things worse. All because he thought he could play peacemaker in a feud older than he could comprehend.

"I'm sorry... I'll keep out of it."

Bones shot Wash a look- the hell kind of narrative causality did the man just invoke? Was that his real magic power? God only knew. But Rose was here and Greg was mollified by it- without an answer as to what kinda food he wanted it Freed Bones up enough to grab the medical kit and walk back around to the livingroom and start unpacking what he'd need to patch up Miz Rose.

'Course then she started talking.

And that was a bit of a bitch to swallow, wasn't it? "How about you let the man have some kinda autonomy and maybe listen t'him now and then, huh?"

Sure he hadn't seen the fight, but if Greg was involved? He'd probably tried to wind things down. That's what Greg did. Calmed people and tried to get them to talk.

Wash gave a casual one-shoulder shrug in return. His life ran on unfortunate narrative causality and crazy random happenstance, and he'd long since accepted it - it just resulted in watching what he said for fear of a speak of the devil moment when he couldn't afford one. (He'd summoned the Meta one too many times - no need to add the Nox to that tally.)

That shrug turned into a frown when Greg left the kitchen. So much for tacos.

He closed his eyes, frown deepening, at the conversation between Greg and Rose. "Keeping out of it isn't the answer," he said flatly, barely holding back a snarl, "and you know it."

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