driftfleet | Red Fish Pond

[he is there. he's solid--he has weight and scent. he's real. the aching shock of it doesn't allow room for Coil to think about the wound that he's exposing to the world, clinging onto Zhas like a child. even at his weakest and accepting support from his partner, he has always crumbled inward. Zhas's arms have always wrapped over his shoulders so he could keep the broken things safe and contained.

this is the result of having been peeled right open, and set so far adrift that he is desperate to grab onto something that can keep him out of the high torrent of water. Zhas is that island--that solid ground that he'd never thought he'd see again.

his fingers grip into familiar fabric, holding on tight as he buries his face, and he doesn't have a moment to even think about fighting back the sob that wracks out of him. he can finally breathe again.]

[that's a sound that comes out of mothers who lose sons, children who lose parents. did he die, while he was away? he woke up cold, haunted by the echoes of a grave he can't remember--so maybe he missed his own funeral.

he doesn't move. this isn't right, but nothing about the Drift Fleet was every really right. he tilts his face away from Coil's, not just to keep the kid from smudging his face-paint. the neck is a vulnerable point too.]

[there had been a little funeral, yeah, but it hadn't helped. Coil had tried to mourn him as lost, but he apparently hasn't gotten any better at learning how to handle grief. judging by the sound of it, he's been choking on barely-stomached pain for months.

it might be the most of Coil's voice that he's heard for a long time.]

[he'll wait. he's feeling patient.

he's put up with a lot worse, for a lot longer.]

[it takes him a solid, uncomfortable minute before he can even try to get a hold of himself, and he does try as soon as he can.

he drags in longer breaths, attempting to gather himself together into one piece again. which means he finally loosens his grip on Zhas and starts to center on his own feet.]

[and he, having fallen into his place as a caretaker, reaches out for Coil's shoulder to give him a little stability as he reorients himself.]

[and that's the thing. that's where Zhas is supposed to be, but he hasn't been. he has evaporated from Coil's life--twice now--without a word or a warning.

and now, here he is, real and whole as if he'd never been gone. as if he'd never been dead to anyone. as if Coil hadn't had to suffer for a minute.

now that he knows that Zhas is somehow safe, and can see again through the rush of relief, something different punches through. the feeling of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder makes something in him hurt. and then it snaps. another sob wells up to choke him... but when this one bursts, it unleashes rage.

there's another sound--hoarse and growled through his teeth--and he lashes out.

with all of the fury that he's been throwing at anything willing to get in the way for months, he balls up expert fists and hits Zhas. dead in the chest. right in the center, like he's trying to knock a hole straight through him.]

[Coil gets the satisfaction of a solid hit. with a cry of pain, Zhas curls against the injury, clutching at his chest and gasping in against his winded lungs.

but he doesn't run, and he doesn't punch back.]

[it feels good for a second. finally, he makes a dent in something.

he can tell that it hurt, which is satisfying, but it doesn't make him feel any better. if anything, it's a confirmation that Zhas is fallible and mortal. he's capable of blinking out without reason, like any other stupid life. and Coil can't take that.

with angry tears still falling, it really looks like he's going to hit him again. but instead, it turns into vicious signing, whether Zhas is paying attention or not.

the motions are demanding. furious.

'never again.']

[he drags in a breath, steps back against the door. he reads those signs though a steady gaze, lifting his head and drawing himself up into something of a stable shape again. a strong shape. he may be guilty and upset--but he's never let that drown him out before, and he's not about to let it rule him now.

fair's fair, and he's done being patient. he strikes forward, intending to knock Coil's hands away. shut up, brat, don't talk to him like that.]

[he's done too much fighting lately. and that fact is probably more apparent now, with how he's primed for it even in a situation like this. as soon as Zhas strikes out, Coil twists his arm out of the way and knocks back with a strike meant to block Zhas' hands back away from him.

Coil is already poised to brawl, though he probably doesn't notice it. in the span of Zhas' nap, that instinct has apparently come back.

he throws out a few more short signs instead of striking at him, but they still carry the same energy-- 'leave' and 'don't.']

[he's still consciously avoiding a fight. he's injured and frustrated, but being knocked back only centers his resolve. something's wrong, that's obvious--but now he thinks he sees what.

he sucks in another breath in against his aching chest, reaches again... but it's slow, fingers spread out, palm facing downwards. he wants to reach around Coil, but he needs to get past the boy's own wall of rage.]

[his teeth grit as he clenches his jaw, biting on nothing in the effort to swallow back his anger. he doesn't want to strike out, he doesn't want to fight, but that's all he's been doing for months. it's how he deals with things now, and his mind is too flooded with fury and hurt and relief to think of anything else.

but the motion makes him hesitate. the gesture is close enough to a word that it manages to carry the same meaning, and he pauses--glancing down at Zhas' hand, blinking tears out of his eyes.]

[that's his opening. he reaches around for Coil's neck, pulling him in with a palm pressing at the back of his head. ducking down to press his forehead against the other's, he finally talks.]

I'm not leaving.

[it's the same ugly, gravelly tone Coil remembers. he's got a good voice for commands, assurance, things that Coil sorely needs. he looks him dead in the eye--expecting something, even now.]

[hearing his voice is what finally does it. it's solid and it's a promise. it's the first steady foundation that Coil has been able to put his feet on since Zhas left.

so, he buckles again, but there's a difference this time. the anger is gone, leaving only the sad, soft things it had been defending. Coil shuts his eye against that seeking gaze and he ducks away from Zhas' face. he moves past that as he crumbles, and his arms hook around his friend again.

he hugs him tight as his shoulders shake with tears, because he believes him.

it's also an apology. he didn't mean to hit him.]

[and this time, he lets him in. his returning the gesture isn't a reaction so much as it is acceptance of his apology. though his skin is already stinging with what's sure to be a hideous bruise, he straightens and lets him hide against his chest for a while longer.

but not too much longer. he was tired before, but this is exhausting. he looks down the length of the cargo bay, wondering who else is on board.]

... I'm tired. [maybe he can rest somewhere. is his old room still here? or his shuttle--that cramped little space that smelled of smoke. maybe the filtration systems have run that air back to clear-clean, in his absence.]

[that's his cue. he knows it is.

he'd like to stay there and purge until there's nothing left of him but ash, but he knows very well that there's always a time to put yourself together again and keep moving. and this is it.

so, he steals one more minute while he can. though, it's more to get a head start on pulling in longer, steadying breaths before he moves, than anything else. and only when he can manage that much, he finally peels away to hold up his own weight again.

Zhas will have to wait another minute while Coil moves into immediately pulling up the zippered edge of his sweatshirt to wipe off his entire face with, and he uses that time to swallow back as much of his tears as he can. he can't shut them off completely, but he can at least try to not be such a grotesque mess.

'full,' he finally signs, gesturing weakly at the ship as a whole. though, he only has to think about it for a moment--punctuated by hiccups--before he follows with 'my room.']

[he's not exactly in a hurry... he continues to take in the details of the cargo bay while Coil cleans himself up. one thread of thought weaves into another. all of the equipment is still here, but the room seems... sharper than he remembers, rustier.

it hasn't been that long, has it? he shakes off the looming feeling that the whole ship has grown older without him. he blinks back to Coil's hands, ignoring his lingering worries to nod in response.

under the circumstances, that would be fine. he trusts Coil's room to be safe when he can't say the same for the rest of the ship anymore. he signs back, 'we'll talk after I rest.']

[Coil nods, nice and obedient, though he's still wiping at his eyes.

it's good. he's not truly together--not by a long shot--but he's at least making the attempt to appear that way. some progress, finally. he straightens his spine; he tries to stand tall. appearing stronger than he really is has become even more second-nature to him over the past few months than it ever had. the shoes he'd had to fill were big ones.

and he shuffles to the side, giving Zhas some space and signaling that he's ready to follow again.]

[it's funny, but last time they had the opposite problem. getting Coil to obey orders had been like pulling teeth--but here he is, stepping aside when Zhas would have been fine simply acting as the follower.

something has changed. it's not as though the boy's sobbing hadn't clued him in--but this cements it. the wound is deep, whatever kind of wound it is.

so he stands up straight himself, taking care to stretch his ribs despite the sting in his chest, and takes the lead. through the door, down the hall. he remembers well enough, and picks out Coil's door on the first try.

down they go.]

Red Fish Pond

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