edge_of_forever | [debut] I think I'm breaking down again

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[debut] I think I'm breaking down again

Tony's car was nicer than anything I'd ever been in, and he drove it fast. "Should I be nervous?" I asked; he looked at me quizzically. "Last time I saw you in a race car, it didn't end well." Even in the backwoods of Canada, I'd seen the footage of him in Monaco. He looked like he was trying not to find that funny.

"Live a little, Jolly," he said finally, and I didn't try not to laugh. It felt good to have something to laugh at.

I leaned my head back against the expensive leather and let my eyes fall shut. It felt good to rest, too. I didn't think any of us had done that much lately. At some point I dozed, lulled by the sun on my skin and the wind rushing by. When I woke up, I wasn't in the car anymore.

If they'd ever managed to get me into that glass cage at the bottom of Fury's flying command bunker, it might have felt something like this. The room was small, but only one wall was open, and it hummed with energy like the forcefield around the tesseract. I sat up, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand, looking around. I didn't like what I saw. There was someone else in one of the other beds, but whoever they were, they were curled up into a ball, out cold. It was eerily quiet except for the almost inaudible whine of machinery-- the air conditioning, probably, and the lights, but I'd be shocked if there weren't cameras hidden all over the place too.

I felt the rumble under my skin, the other guy wanting to come out. Neither of us liked the look of this one bit. Shut up, I thought, and got to my feet.

"Hey," I called out, going as close as I could to the doorway. "Hey Fury, I thought we were gonna play nice."

There was no answer.

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Hey.

It sinks into her consciousness like a weight, somehow pulling her up even as it pushed her down.

Hey Fury, I thought we were going to play nice.

Caroline made a low noise in her throat - entirely grumpy, a little confused - as she rolled over, pushing herself upright with one arm, squinting in the light as she pushed her hair from her face. "What?" She murmured the word, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. The cot. The... prison... bed.

Awesome. Her mom took her to the jail when she was eleven, half take-your-daughter-to-work-day, half 'this is what will happen if you end up a mess.' And this? Totally jail furniture. "Hey," she said then, squinting at the guy standing in front of the doorway. "Who're you?"

She didn't know how she could be here. She'd been - she'd been going home. Klaus had told her to go home, he said he'd handle it, he'd save Elena, and she'd been so scared that she hadn't even thought about it, because if she had-- if she'd used her brain, she'd know that yeah, he'd save her, and then he'd take her home like she was a limited edition Beanie Baby or something.

"Where are we?" She walked closer to the doorway, her voice rising. "Mom?" She could hear the buzzing, but she had still tried to walk forward, blinking and stopping when the guy next to her caught her wrist. "Hey!"

"Sorry," I said, letting her hand go as soon as she protested. "I just-- the forcefield. You don't want to touch that."

It hit me then how young she was. High school age, probably. What the hell a kid was doing locked up here was beyond me-- I always thought that was what Xavier's school was for. No matter what she'd done, a S.H.I.E.L.D. detention center was a little bit harsh of a punishment.

I glanced out the door again, trying to get a read on anything that might be close by. But it just looked like more hallway. "I guess Fury's going to let us sweat it out a while," I said, backing off to sit on one of the beds. "What's your name?"

"Fury? Is that like, some... scary...." She trailed off, making a face as she crossed her arms, shaking her head slightly as she looked back at him. "I don't know about you, but I'm not staying here. I mean, who knows who put us in here? And where do you think we are, anyway?" She looked back at the hallway, craning her neck as she tried to look down the hall. "Hello?!"

She huffed out a breath, and then looked back at him. "Caroline. So, what, you're some kind of... I don't know, murderer, or something? Since you're in jail. I mean, space-tech jail." She moved across the room, her voice high pitched. "Or like, what is this, some sort of like, government thing? Or is it Alaric? Who are you?" She grabbed one of the pillows, and turned, heaving it out of the room, and she watched it hit the wall. "Forcefield? Really? Do you think I'm stupid?"

And then she moved - fast enough that she was literally a blur, but she moved through the room to the forcefield, and hit it with enough force that she was knocked back onto the floor. She skidded back when she fell, regaining her feet too fast for him to see how, and her eyes were nearly black - and she moved still a blur, every muscle feeling like it was on fire, her voice tight and angry. "I. Have had. A very bad day. Who are you. Tell me." Her face was inches away, her eyes searching his, her hands shaking from the electrical shock.

There was only so much she could take, only so much that she can actually deal with and after Alaric pinned her to a desk, and she'd barely made it out alive-- there was no way she'd let some asshole pin her in jail and act like he didn't know what was going on. "What are you?"

"I think it was S.H.I.E.L.D.," I started, but I got the feeling I may as well have been part of the furniture for all she paid attention to me.

I was ready to sit back and let her talk to the wall, but then she went from high school to homicidal in less time than it took for me to blink. She moved too fast to follow, crashing into the forcefield and sparking a lightning crackle as she rebounded off it. As if that wasn't enough to get my adrenaline rushing, she hopped back up like it was just a zap instead of (I guessed) enough electrical force to knock anyone unconscious for a few hours.

And then she crowded close and I got a look at her eyes. Glossed over with red, they stared at me unblinking, black veins popping out on her cheeks. "Holy shit," I heard myself say, backing as far away from her as I could get. What are you? she yelled, and I didn't know how to answer her when the only words I could summon were the ones she'd just screamed in my face. My pulse was drumming through me, almost loud enough to hear, and I could feel the other guy like an itch under my skin, wanting to come out to deal with the threat.

Normally I'd have been able to control this-- it would've taken effort, but I would've had it. But this time I tried to push him away... and it didn't work. I drew in a deep breath, focused, did everything I'd taught myself in the past five years and then some, but I could feel it wasn't doing a thing. "I'm Bruce Banner," I choked out, watching in horror as my hands began to swell, green crawling up my arms like a rash. "I'm-- I'm sorry--" I turned away, squeezed my eyes shut and desperately willed myself to calm, but it was like holding up an umbrella to a tsunami.

I felt myself get taller, heavier, the pain accompanying the transformation unfamiliar, unreal and almost unbearable. I heard myself scream. The last coherent thought I had was to hope that the forcefield was enough to knock the other guy out, and directed his feet toward it at a run before my mind went blank.

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit. Shit.

Caroline stared at Bruce Banner - and made the decision that she did not like whatever Bruce Banner was- no, she really, really didn't, because he was twice as big as he was a second ago, and he ran for the forcefield, and the only thing she could think to say - besides the really quiet Shit was a vaguely incredulous "Seriously?"

Which was just long enough for him to get knocked onto the floor, and flip back to his feet, and then he just... ran himself into the wall, denting the metal panels on the wall with a shower of sparks, loud beep lost in the sound of the crash. "What the-" She scrambled away from him, standing between two of the beds, her back to the wall as he turned, and stared at her. She stared back, the man's eyes totally gone behind the monster's, and she didn't even have time to think before his hand smashed into her, throwing her into the far wall.

Thank god, it wasn't her first rodeo. Catching herself, Caroline pushed herself away, moving in a blur to grab one of the beds, the metal coming from the ground with a screech. "I'm really sorry, guy." She slammed it into his head, her fingers digging into the metal frame as her muscles screamed - it wasn't that heavy, but it hurt, and she couldn't think about it because he just sort of shook his head, grabbing the bed with one hand and tossing it out of the room like it was a ball of paper.

She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to form words, something to supplement the Please that slipped out of her mouth, way too quiet as he reached for her, when she could feel his fingers digging into her stomach, when she could feel the flaring pain that was worse than Alaric, worse than her dad, that was worse than anything-- She screamed, and she could taste blood in her mouth, trying to get free even as he swung her at the wall and everything went black. There was a spatter of blood on the wall, smearing down to wear she lay broken on the floor, her eyes sightless and blank as she stared at nothing, the pool of blood slowly spreading under her head, her arm at an odd angle.

there was pain, burning, a rain of fire, and behind it the girl's snarling face, fangs bared

...

she twisted in his grip, breath coming short, gasp turning into a yell as he flung her

...

the tang of blood in his nostrils, the light flickering, the surprised look on her dead face

...

his own scream of rage echoing off the walls, then blackness

...

I came to with a hoarse shout, shooting upright from where I'd been sprawled on the ground. I was naked-- great-- and my entire body was a deep, throbbing ache, like I'd run headfirst into a brick wall.

I looked up and realized that must be exactly what I'd done. The one wall of the cell was warped, one of the metal panels half torn off, wires uncoiled and spilling out from behind it. A light flickered overhead and there was a little hissing noise punctuated by intermittent quiet beeps. I hoped whatever that was hadn't been something important.

And then I saw the girl on the floor, the spreading pool of blood beneath her. "No," I breathed, "oh God, no." Ignoring the agony firing through every nerve in my body, I scrambled over to her and checked her pulse, but I knew even before I touched her that I wouldn't find one. Her head was turned at an awful angle, and her eyes were still open, but she wasn't breathing.

I sort of greyed out for a while. I didn't know what to do; it was pretty clear now I needed to be in this cell, even if I still didn't know what she'd done to deserve getting served up to the other guy like a chew toy. I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when something beeped behind me. I turned to see a panel had opened up in the wall. I didn't move. I didn't really care what they were offering; I didn't want it. But a second later it beeped again, and when I still didn't move, it beeped twice.

"Fine," I muttered, getting stiffly to my feet. In the cubby behind the panel was a track suit matching the one the girl was wearing, which I guess I'd been wearing one just like it too before the other guy tore it to shreds. Caroline, I suddenly remembered her saying. She was called Caroline. I unfolded the pants and they were almost big enough for two of me. "Very funny," I said, my voice still scraped raw and sounding like it belonged to a pack-a-day smoker. I looked up at the ceiling, where I assumed the cameras were. "Whatever you were trying to prove, I hope you're happy."

I would've liked to refuse the clothes on principle, but my body temperature had taken a nose dive and I was practically shivering, so I slipped them on. As I pulled on the shirt I felt it rub rough against my back, and realized I was covered in little cuts and the starts of some fantastic bruises. I couldn't have cared less. After I zipped up the sweatshirt I sat back down in front of the girl's body, my forearms resting on my knees.

I'd killed people before, when the other guy came out. Innocent people who'd just happened to be in my way. But I thought this might be a new low; the first time I'd killed a kid. I fell into kind of a stupor after a while, just lost in the fog of my own guilt. Hours passed; I might have been meditating except for how I was too weak to concentrate on anything, much less achieve anything like serenity.

I was still zoned out in my dull self-pity when without any warning, Caroline's body convulsed and she rocketed upright with a gasp. I wasn't shy about showing how surprised I was; before she could take a second breath I was up on my feet and as far away from her as I could get, my hands flat against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as I focused on breathing slow.

Caroline curled into a smaller ball on the floor, coughing once, then twice, still tasting blood in her mouth, even though it was old and stale and gross. She felt like she'd been run over by a semi, and she closed her eyes for one second, coughing yet again.

And then she tried again. One breath in, one breath out. Okay. Breathing was happening. She pushed herself up on one arm, staring down at the puddle of dried, disgusting blood she was in, and she reached for the back of her head, and her face twisted as she made a low noise of revulsion - not pain, even though it still hurt, but her hair was soaked and matted with blood, her face speckled with it, her arm and her jacket and her shirt...

Which, it didn't really matter if she was dressed like a hobo, because she was so tired, and it hurt, and she was hungry, and pretty much, Caroline Forbes decided that her life sucked and she was trying not to cry. "You killed me," she said, her voice more tired than accusatory, but there's definitely a thread of why in there. "You turned into some green thing and you just- I need blood." She pushed herself upright enough that she could lean back against the wall, her skin sort of weirdly grey and her eyes unfocused even as she looked in his general direction. "I need blood, okay? You killed me, so now I need blood and you can just figure it out." Things she didn't care about: A: There was no more furniture, B: He was squashed up against the corner like he was supposed to be afraid of her, and C: who the hell he was, because honestly? She just wanted to eat and then she'd be totally okay with 'I stay on this side of the room, you stay on that side.' Hell, they could use the giant puddle of super disgusting blood that was on the floor to draw the line, if he was Mr. Picky.

It would have probably come off a little better if she wasn't wearing one step up from a velour track suit, looked sort of like a zombie from night of the living dead or whatever, and she wasn't trying not to cry.

When she kept making noise, I realized I wasn't hallucinating or dreaming, and that she was still going to be there when I opened my eyes. I forced myself to breathe deep, too drained to even think about going green again, but not wanting to have a panic attack in front of a girl who had just come back from the dead.

I opened my eyes. She was covered in blood and there were lumps of I didn't want to think about what stuck to her sweatshirt. "You killed me," she said, sounding more pissed off than anything else, and it wasn't like I could blame her for it.

Then she started talking about blood, and needing blood, and I was still kind of lost in the haze of confusion between where we were and how the hell she had just come back from the dead, because it wasn't until she looked at me like there was some connection I was missing that I got what she meant.

I visibly flinched and took another step back, like she was in any position to get up and come after me, but I couldn't help it. "That's-- no, no way, absolutely hell no." Her expression started to shift toward anger, and I immediately added, "It would happen to you too, the other guy, when I went green. It's a poison, a sickness in my blood, and you'd get it." The words tripped over themselves in my haste to make her understand what a bad, bad idea that was-- not that I'd have been excited about being vampire food under normal circumstances, but the only thing worse than killing her would be for me to pass on the gamma sickness to her.

Her expression changed to one of frustrated disappointment, though, so I guess she took me seriously. She slumped a little and shook her head, and looked like she was going to keep talking, when there was another beep behind me and the wall panel opened again, a tray sliding out with-- yeah, I realized after a second of staring, that was an IV bag, and it was definitely full of blood.

I would've felt like even more of an ass making her get up, so I went for the bag and brought it to her, trying to ignore the fact that it was warm. "There you go," I said, stepping quickly back and crossing my arms over my chest.

She bit into the bag with obvious relish and I turned away, not wanting to tempt my stomach to heave up what little was in it. Instead I surveyed the damage-- all of the beds had been flung through the forcefield, which I realized now must be programmed only to keep organic material inside the cell. I hoped whoever was keeping us here would come shove them back in, because I didn't love the idea of sleeping on the floor.

She ate it greedily, not thanking him, not thinking of anything besides how hungry she was, and she was shaking while she ate, swallowing the thick, coppery blood that's somehow warm, and she closed her eyes - feeling it run down her chin. She looked up once she drained the bag, and she was able to push herself to her feet, scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, taking a breath, then another, big and deep, and her eyes were clear instead of grey with pain and tiredness. "Hey," she said, taking a step forward, then hesitating before she came to a stop.

"Uh. I'm... better now. I mean. I'm okay." Ish. Really, she just got her head smashed in, and she was still- there was way too much blood. Everywhere. And there were bits of- she wasn't going to think about it, but there were things, mushy things on the floor, but Caroline squared her shoulders, powering through the crap. She was good at that. "So the... guy. The other guy, that's- I mean, you... didn't..." She trailed off, and her voice forcefully cheerful. "So! Right. You're... you turn into a giant green monster. I'm a vampire. I mean, not like... Dracula, more like..." She cleared her throat, because she couldn't really think of any nice and happy sorts of vampires. They all pretty much just ate people. "I mean, I'm pretty normal. Mostly."

She licked her lips, her smile sort of forced-bright, nodding once. "So. We're... We're stuck, and I died... once, and the wall gave you a bag of fresh blood. How- Uh. Where are we?" Positive spin. She could totally ignore what just happened, that she now had first hand knowledge of just how much it sucked to have all your guts and stuff just sort of smushed.

It was hard not to laugh. "Yeah. I turn into a giant green monster." I was a lot calmer now that she was, even if it was still hard to look at her. "I got injected with a serum that was supposed to turn me into a super soldier. Instead it turned me into this." I held my arms out, like, ta-da! The general didn't exactly get his money's worth on that one; it was my one piece of consolation, my little vindictive satisfaction.

"And you're a vampire. Like Dracula, but not," I repeated. I looked at her analytically. I thought about what she'd done, what she'd survived, and this time I did laugh a little. "I hate to break it to you, but you're a pretty far cry from my definition of normal." She just gave me a look, and I interpreted it before she could say it aloud. "Then again, don't take the word of the guy with the one-man demolition crew for an alter ego."

I looked around the room again, shrugging in answer to your question. "I think we got spooknapped." I remembered Tony saying He's a spy. He's the spy, and wondered how much of this Fury had been watching, how much else he was prepared to let us do to each other.

Then there was a little whirring sound from the undamaged wall behind me and I turned to see the projection of a woman shimmer into existence.

"Why? I mean, why would somebody do that to you? That's horrible." She looked down, and wrinkled her nose, pulling off her hoodie, caring less that she was covered in blood (okay, she cared, but it wasn't like there was anything she could do about it) than she really didn't want to have bits and pieces of... of things stuck to her shirt.

"I mean, you're... nice?" Caroline was trying to find something to cheer him up, sort of, but then he said she wasn't normal, and her face settled into a frown. "Or not so nice. I'm close to normal! I go to school, I'm going to go to college, probably. I have a life and friends and a family and who're you to--" And then he just said exactly what she was thinking. Big green guy who was the reason the beds were sort of in little bent pretzels outside the forcefield? Not one to talk about normal.

Her face got only more incredulous instead of less when he said they were spooknapped. "What, by ghosts? I don't think that can do that. If they could do that, Bonnie would have said something. Besides, since when do ghosts just happen to have access to Al...ka...traz." Caroline's voice faded as a woman appeared in front of them, and she took a couple of steps forward and waved her hand through it. "What?" She turned to look at Bruce, even as the woman began talking.

Hello, and welcome to the space station Proserpina. We're happy to ...

Caroline stared at the woman, her face so clearly saying Really? that words weren't necessary, but then- "Hey. Hey! Did you see that guy? There was a guy!"

Edited 2012-05-22 03:05 (UTC)

I listened to the projection in silence, processing. Quarantine... I was pretty sure there was no process on Earth that could get the gamma out of my blood, but clearly we weren't on Earth anymore-- or they wanted us to think we weren't.

"Spook like spy, not like ghost," I said, half to myself as I went to get a closer look at where the projection had come from. "I thought... well, it doesn't really matter what I thought, it looks like I was wrong. But if this is S.H.I.E.L.D., then Steve had no idea how much they've been holding out on us."

I still wasn't convinced this wasn't a ruse. The only thing Caroline and I had in common was a nasty split personality, and I thought it wasn't too far a reach to guess that hers came from something in her blood, just like mine. It fit with the whole vampire thing, anyway. If we really were in space, it might mean that the Asgardians had given S.H.I.E.L.D. some kind of tech that would isolate those sorts of genetic markers... and really, who better to test it out on than me?

I got a chill as I wondered if there were other cells, and who was in them. Some of Xavier's crew would sign up for a treatment, I was sure, but they hadn't exactly asked for my permission before they took me. I hoped to God there were no other kids trapped down here.

"I saw the guy," I said, turning back around to face her again. "A glitch in the recording, maybe? Maybe someone's trying to hack in, get us a message. I don't know." I stuck my hands in my pockets, wincing as even the motion of shifting my shoulders sent a prickle of pain down my spine. "I gotta sit down," I said, and was about to colonize a piece of the floor when the panel on the wall beeped again and a tray with food on it slid out. A sandwich, a plate of fries, an apple, a goopy green smoothie.

I looked over my shoulder at Caroline, my stomach reminding me loudly how empty it was. "Are you good with the O Negative, or do you want to share?"

"You know," Caroline said after the spiel and the guy and everything else, and she sounded really tired, really really tired. "I'm pretty sick of people thinking I need to be fixed. I can't be fixed. You know? This is just what it is now. Blood for breakfast. It's not like I eat people or anything."

She made a face. "And I don't know any spies." She shrugged, and sat back down on the floor as the wall beeped at him. "I'm okay. I can eat food, but it just doesn't do anything. Blood sugar's kind of not an issue, anymore, but I can't get fat, I don't think, so that's good." She leaned her head back against the wall, her forearms on her knees. "You know what I don't get," she said, watching him devour his lunch, "Is why, exactly, I'm in here with you. I mean, not to say I don't like the company." She didn't look at the stuff on the wall or the pretty gross puddle of blood or the fact that she looked like Carrie, because that was over and it was pretty clear that this guy was in a way worse boat than she was about crap that he couldn't control.

"Why'd they make you into a big green monster, anyway? Why green? Why not... I don't know, purple, or something?"

I had to smile at that. "They didn't know it would do that when they injected me with it. They just thought I'd turn into... well, into Captain America," I said with a shrug. Pretty ironic, that. I was pretty sure Steve would hate that, if he knew.

I didn't know what to say to the other thing she said-- about not needing to be fixed. I couldn't really relate.

"The other guy's green because of the gamma. Gamma particles," I went on, realizing she had no idea what I was talking about. "Radiation. They basically injected me with liquid radiation. It was supposed to make me stronger, faster, with quicker healing. The other guy has all those things. He comes out when I get upset." She blanched, and I quickly clarified, "Not just like, stuck at a red light upset. Like, scared and pissed off and trapped all at once. Like before. Usually I have a better handle on him, though. I'm sorry," I said, suddenly guilty because I hadn't said that yet. "It looks like you'll be okay now... but I'm still really sorry."

"Okay, this isn't like, bashing your scientist guys or whatever, but that's... pretty awful. Spiderman's not really a test case, y'know? Radiation just... kills people." She shook her head. "You know, sometimes I just hate people. You shouldn't have to worry about like, having a really shitty day, and oops! Then you just hulk out and it's horrible."

Her brows furrowed. "You're not going to get cancer, are you? I mean, that would suck. I hope you found the guys who did this to you." She paused then, when he apologized. "I... It's okay. I mean, I'm okay, right? I'm a little... disgusting, but I'm okay. Worse things've happened. And it's not like I was alive to start with." Okay, so yeah, bitter much. Super bitter.

"I'll be okay. I mean, hey, probably means I'm the best person ever to be stuck in here with you, right? Besides like... Ghandi. Or somebody really boring, like that guy on TV who paints happy bushes and stuff."

I grinned. "Hulk out. I like that." It was funny that she'd picked up the same word I had, the closest thing the other guy had to a name for himself. "And I don't think I'm going to get sick, no. I've been like this for five years, with no sign of cancer so far. And I haven't met Spider-Man, but I hear he's been doing okay."

I shrugged, looking down at my hands. "Anyway, I can't really get at the guy who did it to me. I'm just responsible for whatever I do while I'm-- well, while I'm green." I looked up again with a little wince. "I'm glad you're not still mad, but... doesn't stop me being sorry."

That last thing she said caught at my mind, though, and I couldn't just let it drop. "You have to wonder," I said, leaning forward a little, "I mean they must've put us in here together on purpose. Not that they knew I'd-- well, that I'd kill you, but that if I-- if the other guy came out, you'd be able to survive it." I frowned. "And that if you went all Prom Night of the Living Dead on me, the other guy would handle it." I looked up again, but I knew the cameras were too well hidden for me to see. "Kinda makes me even more uncomfortable than just regular getting abducted by aliens."

Okay, so he's a comedian. Alright. So, that's fine. She knows guys who are funny, he's funny, it's a whole thing, and as long as he's not funny the way Damon's funny (see also: lame and kind of awful) that's okay with her. "You're not responsible for it. I mean, you say you can't control it, right? You're not the one who thought I'd look better being a mess?" Her brows rose, and she pushed herself up, moving across the room to sit next to him, her wrists resting on her knees. "That makes it not your fault. It's just a sucky part of you, but that doesn't mean you want it to happen."

She paused, and then she shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry I got all-" She made a face. "Grrrrr. I mean, I don't just... eat people. Or anything. I've got self control, believe me." She had more self control then a lot of people that she knew, because....

... Because there were some reasons. Even just eating - even though she did it anyway, just eating made her think of things she probably shouldn't think about, not if she wanted to be the most well-adjusted vampire on the block. Which, speaking of - her eyes widened, and she stared at her hands, and then for some ridiculous reason felt at her throat, like it would be on a necklace or something. "My ring. My ring is gone. I- I need it. You didn't see it, did you? Just-" She knew what it felt like. "It's- It's not big, it's just a ring--" She knew even as she asked him that she didn't have it. That all her clothes were gone, her earrings, her hairband - it's not like they'd just let her keep it.

She leaned her head back against the wall with a thunk, her eyes staring at the ceiling as she as she winced - it hurt - and she spoke quietly. "You know, I'd really like to know what puppy I stepped on that karma thinks that today needs to be the worst day ever."

Edited 2012-05-22 03:33 (UTC)

Her caustic reply made me smile again, not because I liked seeing her bitter, but because it reminded me of me.

"I've been asking myself that almost every day for the last five years," I said, getting to my feet, hoping I was just imagining my bones creaking as I went. Hard to believe sometimes I wasn't even forty yet; I didn't want to think about what I'd feel like when I was eighty. Betty had speculated I'd age at less than half the rate a normal human would. I hoped to God she was wrong.

"I am responsible for it," I said, trying not to sound harsh. "What you do-- whether you bite people or not-- it's preservation for you. At least if I'm well informed, I mean I'm not sure how much of pop culture's take on vampires is real. But you have to eat to live. I don't need the-- the other guy for anything. He's just there." I tried to smile again, but only sort of made it halfway.

"Your ring," I said, trying for a change of topic. "Was it a family thing? I can't think they got rid of all our stuff, I'm sure it's safe." If or when she'd ever see it again was another thing entirely. Whether or not the 24-hour quarantine was real, I doubted we'd be met by a welcoming committee ready to pass us back our belongings.

"But you're not! Like, so, you don't know what green-guy does when you're all... raaar, right? You don't control it, you don't secretly hope that I'd rather be dead unless you're a serial killer, and believe me, I know a couple. You're not the type. And you're a person - like, you're still a regular person, which means that you're human-" She stopped then, her face scrunching up. "I mean right now, you're human. And that means that you're not some mindless automaton. Which is good, because mindless automatons? Bad. They kill people because it's Tuesday."

She sighed heavily. "You know when I get all.... grrr? It's when I'm mad. Or I get hurt. Or somebody's waving blood in my face. Not necessarily when I'm hungry. I eat blood bags, not people, but that doesn't mean that this is preservation. You didn't hurt me, but I was pissed, so I got all scary eyes and teeth in your face, which was pretty shitty."

She paused, and then- "Sorry." Another beat, and- "I try not to do it, I just sort of... I've had a really, really bad day. And... the ring- it... uh. Makes sure I don't get fried when I go outside. Which... since we don't know who's keeping us here besides some weird Star Trek dweeb thing, I'm going to hope that we don't just happen to be in Arizona or something."

Edited 2012-05-22 03:42 (UTC)

"Well, I guess I can forgive you for getting 'all scary eyes and teeth in my face'," I said with air quotes, "if you can forgive me for turning into a monster and killing you." I smiled again. "Besides, I'll be paying for it for a while, judging by how much it hurts to move right now. I'm sore as hell, worse than when I fell out of a plane." I tilted my head to the side. "Worse than either of the times I fell out of planes, actually." So much had happened since the first time, I'd almost forgotten about it. But that was hardly the point.

"Anyway, I'm sorry about your ring. I hope we're not in Arizona either," I said with a little laugh. "It'd make my freakout over this a little embarrassing."

She shrugged one shoulder, smiling. "It's not a big deal. It's okay." She nodded as she said it, totally reassuring. Because right now? To her? It was okay. Maybe that'd change later, but he didn't mean it, he couldn't control it, and it wasn't like she was going to be mad about it. "Just... now I know, so I won't get in your face anymore, and you'll try not to suddenly be all green. Okay?"

She glanced over at him, still smiling - it would have made a prettier picture if she hadn't still be covered in gore. "So, Bruce. Tell me... I dunno. Something about yourself. Favorite animal. Where you last went for dinner. Where you're from. Doesn't matter."

"So we've progressed from celebrity death match to Match.com," I laughed. "Okay. I love dogs but I've never had one. Last place I went for dinner was one of the restaurants in Stark Tower with a Japanese name I couldn't pronounce. Pepper speaks Japanese, but I don't. I guess I'm from New Mexico but the last place I lived--"

I was cut off by a soft white light, and I dematerialized in the space between one word and the next.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[debut] I think I'm breaking down again

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