driftfleet | ( 001 )

Entry tags:

( 001 )

Who: Raven and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the Blameless and the Heron
When: 05/10 onwards

text;

For anyone wondering, the captain and first mate of the Blameless are aware again. I think we've won the award for 'longest time gone by while asleep', but I'm not going to ask for anyone to try and compete.

Not today, anyway.

If we've missed anything important it would be nice to know, but otherwise this is just me checking in, I suppose. I'm not sure what the protocol is when you've been gone for ten years without being gone at all.

If anyone needs me, I'm on the Heron.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ What's hardest for her is trying to keep it buried from Hank, yes, but trying to keep it from Charles, too. His mental defences are still rocky and she has to bury her own fears and anxiety as deep as she can to make sure he doesn't pick up on them - her shame, her panic, her heartache, the way she feels uncomfortable and on edge... The realisation of his mortality, all their mortality, how she could have lost everything in a single, sharp moment...

Shaking her head, she forces her eyes back up to Hank, taking a deep breath before she nods.

She has Hank. He cares. He's here. She can ignore everything else; she has to. She doesn't have a choice anymore. ]

Ahsoka? She brought chicken soup and jerky when she heard about my sleep.

[Charles is part of why he's shoved everything down, and fallen back on an old habit, dusty and not quite what it once was. Lock it all away, only now it's until he's ready to deal with it, rather than never. All the aches and fears and other things that keep him up at night, carefully packed away so they don't overflow.

Their concern shouldn't be on him. It should be on each other.

He frowns for a moment before he brightens a little, nodding]

I remember her - I met her on our ship. That was nice of her.

[ Right now, she has to play it by the 'if he doesn't notice I don't have to explain' theory - she keeps her expression soft and gentle, which isn't hard when she's with Hank, and she leans close to him, basking in the comfort of being at his side, enjoying the warmth, the sweetness, the familiarity. It's ten years and she feels as though she's bereft of him, needing to touch him to make sure he's really there, battling out with the knowledge that she can't possibly deserve him.

She wakes up sometimes, curled around Charles, and all she wants to do is cry - but if she does then he'd notice and he'd know and she can't do that. She can't, because with everything happening with Charles-and-Erik, with her brother rebuilding his barriers... She needs to be the strong one.

Shifting, she moves, tugging on his hand and turning to begin the walk to a spare room, as if nothing's wrong. ]

It's her version of comfort food, since she doesn't do ice cream.

[he doesn't have to see to know; but it's one thing to see it, or simply know it's there than to point it out, and he won't do that now. They're alike in that they put everyone else first and that's something - he's not exactly okay with, not with her doing it, but he understands the necessity of it. Especially when Charles needed to rebuild himself; especially when Erik was still reeling from everything. And especially not when he was depending on her to do what he couldn't, for either of them.

It was a complicated mess, complicated further by memories that didn't seem like they fit anymore. Like they were another puzzle entirely, laid alongside the mess of pieces that were their lives.

He follows along behind obediently, and he doesn't stop but he does tilt his head, listening as they pass by Erik and Charles' rooms. He only sounds a touch distracted for a moment]

Ah - it's decent comfort food. [and then his attention is all on her] Did you have any?

[ There's a reason why Raven had been successful as a lone warrior for so long - her mutation lets her hide, of course, but it's the fact that she's learned to read people that makes her more dangerous. It also means she's good at pretending, at hiding parts of herself, and that's what she does now; she tucks it all away and makes herself feel stronger than she is, knowing the mantle she wears on her shoulder. She's the one to make sure Charles is alright, she checks on Erik, she comes back to Hank - she's the one that can get through to all of them, if she needs to.

(She doesn't deserve that trust, that faith, that belief. She abandoned them all as soon as she returned to their world, and she doesn't even consider the idea that it might be unjust of her to think of it that way. She didn't plan it, but she still feels cruel.)

There's no comment when they wander through the rooms; she's sure they're both searching for the same thing. ]

Ice cream? Cisco gave me some.

[the school, the facility, Cairo - while Raven had been out in the world, Hank and Charles had lived ten fairly quiet, peaceful years. Raven stepping through the door, Kurt behind her - it had been the beginning of it all, a desperate need to find Erik after what had happened to his family, and a traitorous part of him is angry, albeit for a moment. Angry for Erik, angry at him - complicated further by a friendship that had meant so much and then suddenly, so little - angry at Raven, for taking ten years to come back and it was for Erik, not for them -

(And Kurt, who they had talked about once, months and years ago, he had put it out of mind because he hadn't wanted to think too much on it but now)

He doesn't let it get further than that, because it's petty, selfish anger. He can't, because there's too much he hasn't sorted through, hasn't had the chance to take the steps to get past it, and his control is frayed at the edges. Sooner or later, he'll need to let it slam into him, but when faced with Raven, or sitting in the hallway quietly standing watch, it's easier to keep it at bay.

He glances down at their hands, his fingers tightening around hers unconsciously]

I'm not surprised, but I meant the soup. Have you or Charles eaten anything? [simple worries, normal worries. Those he could do]

[ Raven is, honestly, exhausted. She's tired. For ten years she's been preached as a mutant hero, celebrated as this magnificent woman who planned to save the world, and none of it is true. None of it is real. On the jet the children had called her their hero, said she'd changed their lives, and she had felt sick. She had done nothing. She wasn't Charles, who had been the real hero, she wasn't like Hank who had been sure and solid - she was a fake. She had wanted to kill so many people, and the world marked her as a hero now. She can remember Hank saying they needed her, but... All she can feel is shame. All she can feel is the way she hates herself.

Maybe it's easier here. On the Fleet no one knows her, she doesn't have to worry, she can focus on her family... But maybe they feel the same, and that makes her want to cry. Raven wants to be accepted for who she was, not what people thought she was, and maybe that's one of the reasons she had avoided asking Kate about herself.

She can't handle any more Ravens, any more versions, any more images to live up to. It's too much.

Hank squeezes her hand and brings her back to reality, and she blinks before she gets it and nods her head. ]

I ate some soup.

[ That's probably about it. ]

[he had his fill of that when he first came here, and - the Fleet. The Fleet was safe, for all that it had its own dangers. It was familiar in such an odd way that was both unsettling and comforting, old memories that were bittersweet now, but no less important. They had clicked into place, finally, and while they still had felt recent when he spoke he didn't misspeak with them in mind, anymore. His head still hurt, and his heart ached at times, but -

In a way, maybe this was something they all needed. Familiarity, far from the horrors they had experienced back home.

(Maybe it wasn't, and it was only serving to rip the wounds wider, deeper)

He purses his lips and up until now, he's simply let things go. Accepted answers as they were and filed them away for later. It's tentative in tone, a little unsure, like - like he isn't sure if he's allowed. (He knows he is, but this is one of those bumps on their long, complicated road)]

You should eat more than just soup, Raven.

[ The comment makes her pause, and she hesitates before she looks up at Hank. She understands that it comes from a place of love and care, but the truth is that she's not hungry. She's got no appetite and the idea of sitting down for fleet food makes her feel uncomfortable and uncertain. She doesn't want to admit her own failings and doesn't want Hank to worry, but she knows him. She knows he will. She knows that it's going to be the brink of too much, and she doesn't want to be that person.

Hank loves her. He's worried for her. He wants to look after her. The independent part of herself fights against it, but the softer, sweeter side relishes the concern before she finally manages to breathe out. ]

I had jerky too, Hank. And ice cream.

[ She doesn't want to look at him, to see his concern, his love. She doesn't deserve it or need it - Charles does. Charles is the one Apocalypse wanted, took, hurt, damaged. She was collateral damage, used to hurt him rather than anything else. Charles needs them. ]

And I even drank lots of water.

[he meets her eyes, and his search her face for a long moment. A part of him wants to say it isn't enough, that comfort food only goes so far when they've been asleep for days. A part of him wants to slide right into being a doctor, to make sure she gets what she needs, even if she may not want it. That particular worry has been hovering on the edges for the last day, when his body reminded him that he should eat. Just because he wasn't listening to his own worries didn't mean the rest of them should.

But instead, he just nods and accepts it. He doesn't push, because he's uncertain of how far he can. The only limits he knows anymore are with Charles, and he's eased up on those in the last couple of days]

Okay. [he finally says, a little quietly. He frowns, clears his throat, and finally looks away from her]

[ For her part, she wants him to ask. She wants to see him push the way she's pushed the others, the way the mantle has fallen to her a little as if she's going to pick up the prices. Let him run the risk for a moment, see if he can edge closer - because she doesn't bicker or fight, she's the sister? The family, the friend. It's too much and not enough and she wants to snap and bite and be cruel, but she doesn't. She swallows it all away and pushes it to one side.

It's wrong, she thinks. He shouldn't just accept it. He should fight her. He'd have made her eat even a sandwich before.

Hank had said they didn't need to talk, but Raven wonders. What if this gets worse? What if they're never the same way again? What if he realises that there's someone else out there better for him? She left, after all, and didn't come back for him. She came back for Erik and he was there waiting for her, not the other way around. ]

Okay.

[ Careful, her hand drops from his as she goes to open the door. ]

[he should fight her, despite the uncertainty. But he doesn't have it in him to push. And a part him is guilty about it, because he should be pushing, he should be doing more. You shouldn't be like this, a stubborn voice tells him, they went through so much more than you did. And while he normally ignores it, this time he listens to it. He didn't have a brush with death. He didn't lose family. Everything important to him was still there, albeit in pieces.

He can't navigate by the old boundaries anymore. New lines have been drawn, and he has to learn what they are. Then maybe, maybe he'll start pushing harder. All he can do now is simply be there, when any of them needed him.

(But they did lose someone and it hurt - it hurt more now, with old (recent) memories in his mind. It hurt and he couldn't focus on it, when everyone else's hurts were far more important. It was a tipping point, here, and he couldn't step off it, even if he was barely holding on)

She drops his hand and he shoves both in his pockets, shoulders hunching a little. He ducks his head and follows her into the room, and nudges the door shut behind them.

. . . and once more, finds himself at a loss of what to do now]

[ The strange awkwardness that overcomes them makes Raven feel all the more out of place. She shifts, uncomfortable, uncertain for a moment as she tries to gather herself back together and knit the warring parts into one person - the Raven she had been ten years ago, five days before, and the Raven she is now, all mixed up with this idea of Raven the Hero, Raven the teacher. She doesn't know who she's meant to be here, not anymore, and she carries the weight of it all heavily upon her shoulders.

She shifts, trying to make an excuse for her silence, stretching her arms above her head and letting herself move, as if she can shake off all the hurt and make herself more comfortable. It doesn't work like that, and it's hard for her, but at the same time... There's nothing else she can really do now.

A part of her considers shifting back to her natural form, but it doesn't feel right. She doesn't feel as though she can be herself right now, as if it's wrong, or she's wrong, and she smothers her self-consciousness with a huff and a tilt of her head before she turns back to look at Hank with a small, careful smile. ]

Can I kiss you properly now we're alone?

[ No words necessary then. ]

[he watches her quietly, hunched and - not guarded, no, never with her. He's always been good at hiding what was wrong in his voice, in his face - but never in the way he moved, and now is more reminiscent of the awkward, young scientist rather than the older, experienced teacher. He knows it, yet with everything weighing on his shoulders he doesn't want to put up the act. Not completely.

She turns to him and he expects her to ask something difficult. He braces for it, in the way he holds his breath for just a moment; what's wrong or are you okay or any other manner of questions he just doesn't feel like answering.

She asks something different instead, and it throws him so completely off-guard that he finds himself sputtering a little]

You don't—why would you ask? [wait no that isn't what he wanted to say] I mean—you don't have to ask.

Maybe I like hearing you say yes.

[ Which is part of it, of course, she can't deny it. She likes knowing she's wanted and welcome, and hearing Hank give a positive response? She bubbles with it and some of the sadness fades away. With everything that's happen Raven needs an anchor, something real, and that's what her boyfriend is. He's someone solid, someone that, normally, she could turn to. It's just not easy for her just now and she would be tempted to put money on it being obvious. She's never really been good at hiding from him.

For now, she closes the gap between them. One hand goes around his waist as the other goes to rest on his shoulder, Raven's body angled towards him as she leans in to claim her kiss.

It's a good thing Hank isn't the telepath; all she can think about is how much she loves him, how much she needs him, loves being around him, how scared she is she might lose him...

And it makes her kiss harder. ]

[it will always be a yes he wants to answer, just to be contrary, but instead he pulls his hands from his pockets to cup her face, leaning down to return the kiss.

It's different now, he thinks, kissing her. Not in a particularly bad way, but he knows this isn't the same as the ones they used to share. Drunk on happiness and being together and being able to spend time with one another, rather than now - ten years apart once again, weeks past an event that had shook them all so terribly that even he, as steady as he normally was, had almost been knocked over.

He'd almost lost this. He'd almost lost her, and their chance to finally, finally reconcile everything - (even though they'd already done it here, ten years past) - and he can feel his hands begin to tremble.

He hides it by matching the kiss, his own tinged with just a touch of desperation]

[ Raven shifts, pressing up and leaning into his touch - she kisses him with all her desperation, with all the warmth and the love inside of her, and it bubbles up. Everything seems to rise up inside of her as she grips at Hank, fingers clenching around the fabric of his shirt, and she thinks she's this close to breaking. She's so close that she doesn't know how to handle it - she's so close that she can't breathe properly, and she's glad she can blame it on the kiss.

She's fine, truly, she is, until she feels the gentle shake of his hands. Then she breaks.

Her hand moves up and slides into his hair as she breaks the kiss, shifting to press her face into his neck. She's the one shaking now, she thinks, and the rush of it all is awful; she doesn't want to be this way. She doesn't want to be the one that breaks, that hurts, that needs comfort, not when the others need her more. She grits her teeth and breathes in a sharp noise, swallowing the lump in her throat before she manages to push herself back together, as if she can force the tidal wave of emotions back into herself.

Taking a handful of sharp, deep breaths, leaning into his body and hating the fact that she has to ask him to be strong for her again when it's not fair. ]

I love you.

[ They rarely say it but it comes out anyway, Raven's voice shaken and uncertain as she tries to breathe, tries to speak through her emotions. ]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come back, Hank.

[being strong for her, for everyone - that much he can do. That much he can manage, when everything else seems hopeless and pointless right now. He can gather her close and hold her tightly, let her find her hold again while he doesn't ask, doesn't say a word. He presses his lips to the top of her head and stays like that, shutting his eyes as he takes a quiet, shuddering breath.

Her words make his heart twist and pound, like it can't decide what emotion to settle on.

A part of him thinks it's stupid. He'd told her he'd wait, and he had. He'd felt like that even before coming to the Fleet, telling himself that he would wait forever for her. He'd believed Charles when he'd said they'd all be together one day. Believed it with everything he had left at the time. He'd meant it when he said it. He'd meant it back home.

But a part of him still hurts. And it hurts more here, with the memories of the Fleet slotting into where they belong, because it feels like those promises hadn't meant much. Ten years and they hadn't heard anything from her.

He breathes out, slow, and his hold tightens. Waits until he can trust his voice not to sound as wrecked as he feels]

I love you, too.

[nothing could, or would ever change that]

You're back now. [and that's the part he decides to focus on]

Don't do that.

[ It's hard to lean back, so, at first, she doesn't. Raven swells with her emotions, burning from the inside out, and she can't do anything else but force herself to accept this moment for what it is; a time for brutal honesty. She can't handle it anymore, and she knows that Hank is holding back - for her sake, for Charles', for Erik's, tidying himself into little compartments so he can stand tall and strong. It's not fair, not on him or on the rest of them, and she can't handle the uncertainty anymore.

She takes a deep breath and looks up at him. ]

I am back. I went back there, too, to be with you, and Charles, and the X-Men. But it was ten years, Hank!

[ Her hands drop away and her eyes search his face, uncertain and afraid, before the words come out in a tumble. ]

Aren't you upset? Aren't you angry? You don't have to hide that - you don't have to pretend like everything is perfect, because it isn't. We can't just go back to how things were before, because they're not the same.

[ She breathes out, and she swallows. ]

We deserve better than that.

[he doesn't want to do this. He desperately, desperately doesn't want to talk about this, because he isn't sure he can make it through without something going terribly wrong.

(an old fear, saying the wrong words, being part of the reason she went away in the first place—)

Her hands drop and so do his, fingers curling into tight fists. Use your words, McCoy a slightly hysterical voice says in his head and it's been a long, long time since he's had to struggle to say anything]

I'm not pretending everything is perfect. [it couldn't be further from that. There's a quiet, controlled anger in his voice; he doesn't know if Charles is on the ship or not and so he can't let it explode out like it wants to. He has to keep a lid on it]

What do you want me to say? [and some of it spills over anyway]

It hurt every single time one of the students talked about you, or I'd see your face on the television, or someone would visit the school and it wasn't you. It hurt because all of the children look up to you, and all I see is the woman I fell in love with. I said I'd wait for you and I meant it, I did - but I never said it wouldn't hurt, Raven.

But I can't—I can't be that selfish, because there's so much more happening and - and how I feel about you hasn't changed.

[he has to take a step back to lean against the door and his voice drops to a whisper, cracked and raw]

I look at you and I see his hands around your neck and I can't be selfish. Because the thought of almost losing you hurts more than any of that.

So - so yeah, I'm upset. I'm angry. But you're home and you're here and - [and he has to stop because he feels like he can't breathe. He sucks in a breath and has to look away]

Is that what you want to hear?

[ It is what she wanted to hear but, at the same time, it isn't - she knew it was there but it hurts, it hurts so much, so much that she can't breathe for a moment, struggling to right herself in the wake of too much and too many emotions. It's thick and heavy in her throat, her heart rushing as she tries to calm herself down, and it's a familiar feeling - the feeling of panic, of uncertainty, of not being sure of herself, of her place, and she wants to break.

Hank's anger hurts, but it's what she needed; each strike makes her feel as though a weight has been taken from her, and even as she shatters under his words she knows that it was necessary. They couldn't go on like this, pretending things were okay, pretending as though there wasn't an unspoken wall between them, and both of them knew it.

The anger is cruel, but it's just, and Raven knows it. She deserves it, and he's allowed this too. ]

I wanted you to tell me the truth. What you were feeling. Maybe I don't deserve it, but - we're together. It's not about deserving or not deserving anymore - it's about making sure we know what's going on. That we know what we're feeling, otherwise we're going to be stuck and it's going to break us.

[ It's strange, to find herself being the mature one, but maybe time has done her some good - and it's not as though Hank is somehow immature. She's the one that's pushed and pushed until he's snapped, so maybe she's not quite as certain in herself as she thought she was. Maybe she's the one in the wrong.

Turning her head up, she looks at him, expression shattered. ]

Every month there was a new mutant. In a fight club, in a circus, still in labs or worse. Every month there was another one, and I would go and I would find them and I would help them get free. I would take them to a safe place and I would make sure they could travel and then I would go. I couldn't stop and make friends. I couldn't pause, because if I did all I would do is think of you and want to go back.

[ She swallows, bowing her head. ]

It was cowardly. I couldn't go back because it wasn't my home - it didn't feel like a home. It was where I lived and that was it. I knew what they all thought of me and it wasn't fair, Hank! I'm not a hero! I was never a hero, and they deserved better than some lie the televisions came up with because they didn't have a clue what happened in Washington. I was already so sick of pretending to be something I wasn't - how could I go back and live a lie like that?

[ She grits her teeth and her hand lifts, touching her neck, and she breathes out. ]

I remember how it felt. His hands. I remember him calling for Charles and knowing he wouldn't come. He couldn't walk, how could he, and with you and Moira there - there was no way you would let him go to Apocalypse, give up everything for me. I... I was so afraid, but I was - I was okay. I thought... Maybe if I died for him it would make everything okay again. Everyone would forget all the mistakes I made. It would give you time to find a way to kill Apocalypse and go home.

[ Raven feels small, and sad, and broken, and she droops into herself. ]

I didn't have hope until I opened my eyes and saw you. Then I knew everything would be okay.

[the words are out and he's hit with the urge to apologize the moment he glances up at her face again. She wanted him to talk and so he did, and while he doesn't regret saying it, he isn't sure if it was the time to say it. Not when they're both on the brink, angry and hurt and scared and so caught up in one another that it can be dangerous. They're professionals when it comes to breaking each other's hearts; this isn't the first, or the second time]

Raven - [he wants to tell her to stop; he wants to flee, to the hallway or to Charles' room or back to their ship, hide and pretend for a few minutes so he doesn't have to hear what she has to say. But as much as she deserves to hear it, he deserves it too. She may have opened the door, but he's the one who kicked it open.

And maybe she needs to hurt him, too. Maybe he deserves it, too. He'd never tell her she didn't.

So he listens. He gives her his full attention, hands still balled into fists at his side. The world they'd spoken about was here now, had been here and yet he isn't surprised that mutants were still suffering. And he isn't surprised Raven was right there through it all, helping them like she had before. He knew how she felt about how the world viewed her and he could understand it - he might not agree with it, not completely, but it is what it is and he'd never tell her she had to feel differently. The kids needed a hero. Raven didn't have to see herself that way. The home comment hurts, but it's passing, much like all of his other hurts.

But she keeps going, and he again his breath catches in his throat, a lump of fear.

He remembers, very vividly. He remembers that he was going to go out there anyway. He wasn't thinking about whether or not it'd get him killed; he was single-mindedly focused on rescuing her, on protecting Charles and Moira and the children, of doing every single thing in his power to make sure they all eventually got to go home. It had felt hopeless and bleak and yet he wouldn't let go of it.

I got you.

One hand uncurls and he reaches for hers, snagging it before he loses the nerve. And if he's holding it tighter than he allows himself to, then - it isn't a surprise. He's laid out a little bit of how he felt, and now -

Now he's at a loss of what to say. What he's supposed to say. The words tumble out regardless]

You deserve so much more than all of that.

Everything - everything will be okay. Here, too. We're good at it, you know - getting through these things and somehow managing to put most of the pieces back together. This - everything that's happened in the last ten years - it doesn't change that.

And it - it isn't fair to any of us, that we went back and it's like none of the things we said - all of us - didn't seem to follow us. I think that's why all of this is more . . . difficult. Because we all - made plans and promises and that got left behind.

But I don't think it will break us. [quietly] We don't break that easily.

[ Is it really going to get better? Raven wonders it, quietly, to herself; will it get better? Will all of this settle down, will they stop suffering, hurting each other, breaking each other's hearts? It feels impossible when it keeps happening, time and time and time again, and she hates it. All she wants is to be happy, to be with the man she loves, to be with her brother, to live in peace, and the world keeps ripping it out of her fingers.

Hank says her name and she wants to break.

This is supposed to be easy, she thinks. Falling in love is meant to make everything feel wonderful and free, as if there are no worries in the world. The problem is that she recognises the fact that no relationship is without it's struggles, and she knows that something like this is something they need to work for. They need to fight for each other, and they had promised to do that, promised to be there, to keep pushing and pushing because they love each other. They love each other so much and all they want is to be together.

She startles a little when Hank reaches out and takes her hand in his own, and she would think it was painful if she wasn't stronger than she seems. Her eyes flick up to look at him and for a moment she doesn't know what to do or what to say - if she should run again or if she needs to be here, right now, with him, to really let it all come out and then calm down. It's been twenty years of wanting to be with this one person and now they're finally here and she can't help but wonder; when will it go wrong again?

When will someone take this from them?

What if another Apocalypse comes, another Trask, another Shaw?

But you can't live like that. You can't live waiting for something to happen, for something to go wrong. She'd learned that, too, because you would lose your mind completely. ]

I don't deserve the things you think I do.

[ Maybe that's okay. Maybe that's part of being together. Offering love and tenderness and support even if your other half doesn't think they've earned it - showing them that it's what they should have, not something they need to fight and cling to. ]

We shouldn't have to keep putting ourselves back together, Hank. It's not fair. I'm so tired of fighting, of the hatred, of the prejudice. I never wanted a war. I never wanted to go to war, but we didn't have a choice.

[ She moves, slowly, shifting closer again, wanting to be close but not being able to ask for it. ]

I don't know how to do it, Hank. How to be here, how to make sure Charles isn't bleeding out, make sure Erik is safe, make sure you're not staying awake forever and exhausting yourself, making sure I sleep, going back to the ship... It's too much. I'm so afraid that something will go wrong and it'll be all over.

[he'd already decided long ago that their world was far crueler than it seemed. He'd seen it on the beaches in Cuba; in Washington, staring up at sentinels built specifically to kill him and people like him. He'd seen it in some of his students' faces, the ones who came from homes with parents who weren't as understanding as his were. Their world is cruel and swift, and everything seems to come in ten year gaps, when things have settled from the last tragedy and life has moved on. When they least expect it, and no - no, they can't live expecting something every single time they begin to feel at peace, or happy, or like life has finally given them a well-deserved break.

And it's because of their world that their relationship isn't like other ones; there's far more complications to being in love, the struggles compounded by what they are and how the world looks at them. They've always had to fight for what they had, what they wanted, and he settled with that thought long ago; he would always fight to protect what he had. He'd proven it time and again, every single time he's had to be Beast.

The fear that someone will come along and take all of that is still very real, thick in the air in the wake of Apocalypse. Someone had come along and taken someone important to them, someone had almost taken everything, and they'd fought. They'd gone to war, and it hadn't been just them like the last time, no - Scott, Jean, Kurt - they'd been there, too, and while it hurt to think they had to be exposed to it - their world had raised them to be ready for it. And they'd proven it, fearlessly and certain.

He sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment as he forces himself to relax. They're being open and honest with each other and it's a little too much for him, when half of what they say seizes him up for a moment, but - it's things that have to be said. He knows that, as much as he doesn't like it]

You deserve more than you think.

[he's being contrary, but it's no different from what she used to do to him, when she'd compliment him and he couldn't accept it]

We didn't have a choice, but - we still did it. Because we had to, even if we've been tired of it for the last twenty years. No one else cares that we are, and we hate it, but we still do it. Because we're all too damn stubborn not to fight for each other.

[she moves closer and tentatively, he tugs on her hand, a gentle invitation to move closer if she wants to. He won't ask, because he isn't sure she wants him to. But he wants her close, too]

I know. [it's his fears coming from her mouth and hearing them out loud makes them spike for a single, painful moment before he breathes out] I keep having to convince myself that we're - safe. That we're all here. [it's why he's still in the hallway, only leaving when he has to] I don't . . . know how to do it, either. Back home there was so much going on that it just - worked out, and now we're here, going through it all over again.

We just - we have to take it day by day. Even if it takes reminding ourselves that - things are fine. I won't exhaust myself past what I can handle and I'm - keeping an eye on things, and I know you're trying to sleep and staying with Charles, talking with Erik -

It seems like it's too much right now because it is. But it won't always be like this.

[ Raven doesn't know if she'll ever truly recover from what happened at Cairo. A part of her is a touch too blasé about what happened to her - she struggles with her memories of Apocalypse and his hands, she struggles with the sound of his voice echoing around her, the way that she thought it was the end, all of it a messed up, twisting horror show inside of her. Whenever she closes her eyes it's like her nightmares are playing out in front of her, and she has to try and force herself to calm down.

What she had done, that day in Cairo, was lead children into a fight they might not have survived. She had told them not to control their powers, themselves, and she had asked them to fight - and they had wanted it. She can remember being their age and wanting to take part in Cuba, wanting to be there, and Charles protecting her even then... She had hated it, being smothered, being safe, being the one to hang back and watch over the telepath, but now she can't think of anything else she would rather be doing.

She doesn't want to be anywhere Charles isn't.

Looking up at Hank, she feels as though she's going to unravel, as if the parts of herself she's pushed together are going to fall apart. She can't hold herself together, not really, and she grips Hank's hand a little tighter. It's only now, with him talking to her, finally airing her thoughts and her heart, that she feels that maybe that would be okay. Maybe it would be alright if she kept holding onto him, too. Maybe it would all work out of she let herself break when she was with him, so Charles and Erik didn't have to feel the backlash of it.

Breathing out, she nods her head.

There's no point arguing with him on some of these things, and she accepts that he imagines she deserves more than she does. Instead, she lets her fingers grip his more, and she swallows the lump in her throat before she manages to tilt her head up to respond, her voice quiet. ]

We need each other. It doesn't matter how many years go by, all of us - you, me, Charles and Erik... We need each other. I went up there with Peter and I told him we were family, I told him that he had me... And it's true. All of us are connected, and no one can fight it. We can't fight it. I don't think any of us think otherwise, not now. It hurts, but... Isn't that okay? For us to finally be together, when we can? That's what we fought for.

[ She does move closer, and she rests her forehead against his shoulder for a moment before she manages to find her words. ]

I want to believe things are going to get better. Time heals, doesn't it? I don't know if there will ever be a time that I don't worry about Charles, or a time where - where the nightmares go away, Hank. I can't imagine a future where I don't think about what we could have lost. I'm so afraid that one day I'll wake up and this will be the dream.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject