orderfromchaos | 13. Lucky penny

[The memories reintegrating is exactly as strange as last time, fluid and roughly granulated at the same time, like having mud dragged through the crevices of his brain. He gulps for air, grits his teeth, pieces of him that are non-contiguous fitting forcibly together, gear teeth biting and grinding untill they snap and start to turn, the quiet weeks with Tessic like a deep breath in his chest, the barge a cacophany smacking him and then sinking inside, stones skipped into a river: Elsa, wary and brittle and bright; Vin with her severity and her old eyes and leaf-dappled shadow; Iris and the careful space between them like a fur coat, warm and safe and guilty; Hannibal like a cold hand on his shoulder; Abigail like the rocky ravines back home, harsh and amazing and beautiful. He clenches and unclenches his fists until it's easy to breath again, then gets up.]

[Spam for Elsa]

[He goes to see her first, in person, knocks on her door, relieved it's still there.]

I'm back. I don't know - I'm back.

[Filtered to Abigail, Helena, Vin, Jean, Iris, Bucky and Derek]

I didn't mean to go. The admiral - I was just home, I didn't ask for it, I didn't remember. I know - after what happened it might have looked like that, like I was running away, but I really didn't.

Just. So you know.

[He's run from a lot of things in his life. It's a character flaw he's aware of. But he didn't, not this time.]

[Public video]

How many of you saw parts of your future back during that flood where all our timelines got mixed up? Or any other time, for that matter?

I mean. What are we supposed to do with that? Knowing it's coming, but not when or why or how exactly. Should we do anything?

[A frown, a glance away, not biting his lip but kind of wanting to.]

Do you believe in fate, I guess, is my question. And what does it mean if you do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh.

Well. Good, then.

And you're having a lousy week.

[This is not a question.]

[He thinks about denying it, but...really, what's the point?]

Yes. I'm not supposed to leave my cabin. Warden's orders. I think he's told all the other wardens as well, so you may as well know.

How is Lady Elsa?

Queen Elsa.

[T e c h n i c a l l y. But he's being cheeky about it, not serious.]

She's good, I think.

Man, what did you do?

Edited 2014-09-05 14:42 (UTC)

For all that I do try to be respectful, I'm afraid I simply cannot bring myself to address another as "your highness" or "your majesty". Unless of course we were in their realm of authority. [He hears that cheek. He's responding with tired frankness all the same.] I'm glad. She was afraid you might not return. [And he might have said something about being willing to do anything she thought might be able to help, if he could, if she wanted it.

But they're not talking about that now.]

The longer story short? I got Ms. Bleu rather sick. By accident.

[Note how she is no longer 'Mademoiselle'.]

Oh. You - oh.

[He blushes, then giggles, then dissolves into helpless laughter.]

...It's not funny!

[Said with the short aggravation of someone who knows it probably is, when they're not the one stuck being the butt of the joke.]

It's certainly not that funny.

It's kinda that funny.

[Mostly because of Powers' disgruntled face, more than the actual situation. But Dillon actually kind of sympathizes, for reasons he is definitely not admitting out loud at this juncture, so eventually he takes a breath and manages to compose himself, even managing a fairly sincere apologetic expression.]

Sorry. I've just - sorry. Do you, uh, need anything? While you're under house arrest.

Need? No, I have things here more or less handled. I have enough projects to curb my boredom.

I'll admit though, so long as you're offering...I wouldn't mind a small fixer-upper. I have broken fingers on my dominant hand, and I'm getting real tired of waiting for them to mend on their own.

Yeah, I can do that.

[And it's - nice. Being able to do something concretely useful.]

Be right down.

Oh, good. You'll have my gratitude. See you soon.

[When Dillon reaches the sixth floor he'll find that Powers already has the door open, standing in the middle of the entrance to his cabin. He has his arms folded, leaning on his left side against the doorframe. As indicated his right knuckles have been set with a splint.

One of Megamind's brainbots hovers in the hallway, it's camera-eye pointed fixedly at him. He spares it a disparaging look before smirking humorlessly at Dillon in greeting.]

Thought I'd spare you the trouble of knocking.

You're a paragon of consideration.

[He stays in the hallway, less out of concern about the hovering robot than because Powers decided to meet him at the threshold, which he takes as a fairly succinct message for Dillon to keep out of his space. He puts his hand on Blight's wrist, feels the prickling repulsion/connection of their respective fission and fusion energetic runoff, the unbalanced inverted kinship. He doesn't linger - bones are simple, grossly architectural, and a little focus has them jolting into alignment, wholeness, with only a brief local queasy interruption of normal mathematical arcs of nuclear decay.]

There. Better?

[He grimaces slightly when they make contact, because whatever Dillon is feeling he gets a fraction of it all his own. Even when his powers aren't actively trying to rewrite, to 'fix' Powers' own mutated physiology he gets the sense of something poking at him. Moving around inside of him in ways that shouldn't be possible and feel inherently wrong. But he asked for this, knowingly, so he's not about to complain.]

Yes. Yes that seems... [He pulls the splint off and flexes his fingers experimentally, sighing in relief.] Much better. My thanks to you, Mr. Cole.

Anytime.

[He means it. There aren't a lot of things in his life with simple solutions.]

Well. I'll do my best not to need it. It was something of a judgment failing I even got this particular injury in the first place.

13. Lucky penny

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