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.

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There's this guy. Tessic. He build my prison, originally. And gave me the clue I needed to get out.

And now he's brought me to one of his headquarters, and it's - it keeps the world out, a little. Enough that I'm not crazy.

[Dillon likes Tessic. But he doesn't know if he trusts him, if he should. Part of him wants to.]

[The levity fades from her face, and her brow furrows.]

That's - even if you can trust it, that's not a permanent solution.

I know. But it's - breathing room.

He wants me to - do something, with my power. I don't know what yet. I kind of don't want to know, because then I'll have to decide what to say.

[Her smile is wryly sympathetic.] Sometimes it's easier not to have control.

[A breath out, slow.]

Yeah.

Did you...? Have someone. I mean.

Yes. [Her voice is softer, now, and a bit wistful.] Charles - he helped me learn how to control it, all of it.

[She takes a breath.] And then - later, he was able to seal the darkness away. [A slight, brittle smile.] But I don't think that kind of thing ever lasts.

Nothing lasts. Nothing's supposed to, anyway.

That's why life's precious.

Yes.

...Is that what we have, really? Life? [She's immortal, now, she knows it in her bones. She is eternal, and apart.]

[He frowns for a moment, wants to say yes on principle, or quacks like a duck, maybe, except for all the ways they are different birds entirely.]

We change, don't we?

[He thinks of his tree.]

We don't keep damage, but we change. We grow. Maybe not the things inside us, but we do. That's a way to be alive.

[She's quiet, for a moment, as she considers. She's certainly not the same Jean - or the same Phoenix - who came to the Barge battered and broken.]

Yes, I suppose it is.

[Her smile returns, wry and warm.]

And part of that is making our own choices.

Edited 2014-09-24 07:11 (UTC)

Come what may.

[A little gallows humor, a little sincerity.]

[It makes her smile. Dark humour is an X-Men tradition, after all.

It fades, though, as she remembers the implications.]

Of course, when people like us make the wrong choice - it's worse. [It's something Charles always instilled in them. They needed to be better, because they could do so much worse.]

No kidding.

How do you - how do you wait? When there's so much pain, so much wrong, and you can do so much, but - I always mess it up, how are we supposed to - hold back?

[She's quiet, for a moment, because part of her - bigger than she'd like, raging and rampant - wants to say to hell with waiting. Wants to say they should take the reigns and change the world whether it wants it or not.

When she answers, her voice is quiet, and carefully steady.]

Charles told me, more than once, that change can't be forced. Not in the long run, not in a way that lasts. It doesn't matter what we can do, or how powerful we are. We need to work with people, if we really want to make a difference.

We need to hold on to that.