pain_train | SANCTUM INBOX

"So this must be very different, huh." Though sniping... "But before I guess you always had a good overview of the tactical situation, right? Or hopefully, when it wasn't FUBAR."

She grins. "Oh good, so you're already all trained and everything. Benevolent overlord North, who gets things off tall shelves for the little people."

A long pause on her part as well. Is he understanding what she's trying to say? The problem is, she's not even sure herself. She just knows the feeling of it, not the reality, let alone how to put it into words. "They're good kids," she repeats. Then, slowly and carefully, like she's have to knit each word together from scratch, "Compliance... has a way of making good kids... it doesn't make them bad. It makes people good." Frown, narrowing of the eyes because does she really believe that? No, she doesn't. "No. It doesn't. It puts out fire."

This is a struggle. Why is she struggling with this? Because North is going to be a lieutenant. He needs to know these things. He needs to be warned. But it's hard to describe something that is only the vaguest outline, pieced together by letters scratched into plastic with fingernails.

Oh, he doesn't like that. Not at all. He stands and comes closer. " It's confusing, isn't it?" he says in a hushed tone. "They make it confusing."

"Confusing," she agrees. She clenches her fingers; it's the only thing she can do, worrying at her lip with her teeth. "They put out the fire. You can see it. Not the first or second or third time but... some day one of them comes back and his breath smells like honey and it's just... just gone. There's nothing left. There's just hollow and ash and everything is gray and then one day they...they eat a gun." No, she's wandering. She's associating, because these are the things she can remember. "We have to protect them from that. It's our job, North. Even if that means eating blame."

Yes. That's what she meant to say.

She glances around furtively, which is stupid because the door is closed, North is here, they're not coming for her yet. Swallows dryly and whispers: "If you want to remember, write it down, before they come for you. Write it down and read it a hundred times."

His first thought isn't to wonder just what it is that he's getting himself into but to reach out to her and take her hand and just...be a comforting presence. Somehow.

"I'll do that. They don't deserve to go through that." But he frowns, and rubs her hand with his thumb. "York's told me the same thing. Record everything."

One of the monitors beeps as she curls her fingers around North's hand. She's still got good grip strength, still has the callouses of someone that's been using a saber for years. Another warning beep and she makes herself take a few deep breaths, slow in and out past the sudden tightness in her throat.

She said what she needed to say. And he listened. He's not laughing. He doesn't... seem to think she's crazy.

Another deep, careful breath, and the thumb against her hand, that's soothing. That's good. Touch is always good. Physical things aren't lose so easily, and maybe she can remember the ghost of what this feels like later. "Okay." A little squeeze of the fingers. "I know you can do it." She nods as much as she can. "I don't... I'm not very good with machines."

Edited (spelling) 2014-11-03 01:12 (UTC)

"You don't need to be, it's all right. I'm here for you." All thoughts of how they started out, how she tried to beat him and bruise him, are gone at this time. All he sees is someone who's fragile, who needs a friend—someone who can comfort and calm her.

Edited 2014-11-03 02:20 (UTC)

She gives him a small, watery smile and mouths, 'Thank you.' It's not something she hears often. (Or maybe she does? She can't remember. She never remembers. But it's nice to not feel utterly alone in this for a moment.)

It would be trite to say 'you're welcome' so he simply squeezes her hand. Staying connected is the thing to do for now.

Wrath hangs on to his hand rather tightly and just breathes a bit, gets herself calmed down. It's hard to talk about those things, and scary to talk to someone else, and just... difficult to try to get it to make sense in words. But North listened. He listened and then held her hand of all things, and he doesn't think she's crazy and he's not going to report her to the compliance officer.

She sniffles, blinks, wishing she could wipe her eyes because she didn't quite cry but it was close. (Good thing April isn't around for this.) But she's not going to be angry at herself for feeling emotions; emotions are important. Those can't be taken away, so long as she keeps putting her strength into them. "Sorry," she says, since it is kind of bad that she made him stand there and wait.

And there, she can smile again. Squeezes his fingers lightly. "You're going to make a good lieutenant, North. I'm really glad."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." He offers her a small smile and returns the squeeze. "I think I'll enjoy it. I'm sure it'll be tough, but things worth doing often are."

He gives her a moment, gives her her dignity, waits until she's no longer so teary-eyed to release her hand slowly. He pats the back of her hand before pulling away. "Do you want that pie now? It's fresh."

There's nothing to be sorry for. Those words are almost more important than anything else. It really does tell her that she's safe with North. Really safe. She breathes out an unsteady laugh. "God, it's so good to have someone I can talk to!" She can't talk to Whiskey. He just gets too upset, and upsetting him is really bad for his health. She gives him a crooked little smile. "I'm not sorry at all for all the times I tried to punch you in the head now, you know. Since I guess that's what it took to get your attention and make friends."

And then pie. She can smile a lot more about pie. "Yes, please. You know, I've heard so much about this pie. I need to know if it's all talk or not."

Edited 2014-11-03 03:22 (UTC)

He cracks out a laugh. "Somehow I'm not sorry you punched me in the head either." Even if he's still recovering from it. He turns and opens the box, pulling out one of the slices of pie, which is wrapped in plastic wrap. "Looks like you get the peach first. It's made with cinnamon and brown sugar. Really good stuff." There's a spoon in the box (all the better to avoid dropping crumbs) and he fishes it out so he can scoop off the tip of the wedge of pie and bring it to her lips.

The grin to end all grins at that. She's going to enjoy every moment of this for as long as it lasts, and not look back, or regret, or worry about it. For as long as it lasts.

Peach pie sounds amazing. And she can already smell the peaches and warm brown sugar, the undertone of cinnamon. It's going to taste even better, she knows that. And he made it. For her. "That smells wonderful. Okay, maybe you weren't lying about your pie."

And he's going to feed her. She doesn't have to ask for a nurse. The extremely cute guy with an adorable smile who listens to her is going to feed her pie. Everything is worth it for this moment. She tilts her head, opens her mouth to get that bit of pie.

He really wasn't lying about the pie. So worth it. So very worth it.

"Is it what you were hoping for?" he asks, scooping up a second bite. She certainly seems to be enjoying it, judging by the look on her face.

Wrath licks her lips. "Mmm. Even better. You're really good at cooking!"

"Well, at least I can make a peach pie," he teases. "You're basing a whole conclusion on one piece of evidence."

She gives him a mock-serious look. "You're right. I guess you're just going to have to cook more things for me then."

"That's the only way to be scientific about this." He feeds her the pie, one bite at a time, scooping a few drips up off of her chin with the edge of the spoon. "Sorry, I guess this turned out just a little syrupy."

Very syrupy. There's a lot of lip licking. That's not weird, right? "Should I fill out a complaint form? Do I get a personal apology from the chef?" She grins. "Though I think it tastes really good."

He chuckles. "That was an apology. Do you like the edge crust?" Some people didn't like that part and would leave it behind.

"Oops." She considers. "Will you be sad if I say not really? I only really like the edge is there's ice cream on it."

"No, that's fine, that's why I asked." He goes over to the trash can and scrapes the rest of the pie in it, along with dropping the plastic wrap in. The plate can go back in the box. "Do you want the caramel-apple now too, or do you want to hold off on that for a bit?"

She licks her lips again, just searching for the memory of that pie. She'd seal that into her bones if she could. "If you're not in a hurry to go anywhere, maybe we could wait a bit?" She smiles. "I could get the nurse to bring us some milk. Or they might give you coffee if you promise to not give any to me."

"Of course I wouldn't give you any coffee. Not even if you begged." He chuckles and closes the box and turns back toward her, somehow not at all compelled to distance himself from her by sitting back down in that chair. "You want me to call?"

She gives him a look of mock shock. "Mean! And you don't know how well I beg, okay? Some evil overlord you are." She wiggles her fingers at him. "Yeah, you should probably call. They're tired of hearing from me."

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