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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Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't.

[Dark and quiet and sad. He once set a boy on a path he had no capacity to escape. He could see it, all the way down to the swift brutal end, one of many possibilities, a fate he was never supposed to have. And Dillon was being eaten alive from the inside out by a thing that hungered for destruction, so he made it happen.]

[Stiles is silent for a moment. It isn't hard to pick up on Dillon's mood, and he wonders about what happened at home while he was there.]

I'm not sure which is worse sometimes.

Yeah.

I think. I think it's worse when they don't.

But don't quote me or anything.

[He smiles, the kind of tight little smile with no happiness in it.]

Yeah, but...what about when you make all the wrong choices?

[Then again, he'd still rather have free will than believe all of their choices are pre-determined.]

Then it sucks.

But if it's not already decided, maybe you still have a chance to fix things even if you mess it up the first time.

[Or six.]

Yeah, maybe. [He's silent for a moment, then looks back at the comm.]

You sound like you could use a drink.

Is that - okay?

I mean. I guess it's not illegal here.

[He has seriously never considered this.]

Yeah. I mean, I think so. I know we can get into the bar.

[He shrugs. He's not gone overboard or anything, but he's had a few drinks since being aboard and no one's ever given him a hard time about it.]

Okay. Sure. Why not.

[He's a little terrified that it will mean he has even less control over his powers. But if people start following him around like absurdly well-coordinated ducklings, he'll just...go sleep it off in zero, or something.]

[Stiles can read the wariness and he holds a hand up.]

Don't worry. You don't have to try and get trashed. But a drink might take the edge off a little.

I probably can't. Come to think of it. I mean, the army used to have to give me, like, elephant doses of tranquilizers to knock me out for transport.

[it's been months since he thought about Hesperia. Nine months ago, or, as of his return, three days ago. That's probably not healthy, just - not thinking about it. But he's not sure what he'd gain if he did think about it. So. Whatever.]

I mean. It's worth a shot?

[Very little of that makes any sense to Stiles, but it does make him think momentarily of Bucky and a troubled look flickers through his eyes.]

Right. Yes, definitely worth a shot. I'll see you up there in a few?

[Dillon Cole has had a complicated life.]

Yeah, alright.

[He sits at the bar, spinning his poker chip item and catching it before it falls. (He's catching it so it doesn't look freakish; if he didn't, it might never fall. Or it would stop on-edge, probably.) He hasn't ordered anything yet.]

[Stiles lifts his hand in a wave as he drops down beside Dillon, offering him a small smile and watching him spin the poker chip.]

Okay so have you ever drank before? Like at all?

Other than communion wine?

[Which doesn't count, obviously, and he shakes his head.]

I never really had the chance, I guess. It's been a busy couple of years.

[That? That, Stiles understands. Before coming to the Barge it had been ages since he'd engaged in underaged alcohol consumption. Not that he'd ever made a regular habit of it, but by all intents and purposes, Stiles has always been a bit of a lawbreaker.]

Right, okay. So we probably shouldn't hit the Jack Daniels right out the door. Beer it is. [He pauses.] I mean unless there's something else you want to try.

[He shakes his head, casual, it's easier not deciding.]

Beer's fine.

Beer it is then.

[He holds up two fingers to the bartender and orders for them.]

Thank you.

[Sort of quiet. He hasn't said that yet, has he?]

[He offers Dillon a small smile. He hadn't, but that's fine. It's not a big thing. Just drinks and hanging out. Not a chore.]

No problem.

Just - for everything.

[He waves a hand vaguely. He's never had a lot of friends. It's nice.]

[He nods and pats Dillon's back before picking up the beer that's been set in front of him and taking a drink.]

It's good to have you back.

13. Lucky penny

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