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Action Is the Antidote to Despair [massively bendytimed before Rebellion]
Despair was a funny thing sometimes, in that it could be all-encompassing, overwhelming. It could fill your entire being like water dripping down into the grooves and craters of a pockmarked surface, creating a flat uniform plane of itself.
He hadn't quite felt this way at first. First, he'd just been numb. He'd been numb when he'd tried to give Jeka his flight ring and she refused and as Jeka had been taken away to the pods for healing after what his mother had done to her. He'd been numb as he was given medical treatment and turned away all visitors, including Brenda. He'd been numb when facing the Council and demanding he be imprisoned for what he'd done to Daniel and Punchy and the others. He'd been numb in their face of their compassion and insistence that he didn't need to be locked up, that probation and psychiatric treatment and monitoring were enough in light of his guilt and his treatment of his mother.
When he heard the news that Punchy had died before he had the chance to thank him for trying to save him, for talking him down out of despair at the lowest moment of his entire life, that was ironically when the despair came back full force. It felt terrible.
It also felt good to feel, to not be like his mother. That was the fine line between them, thin as the edge of a knife but a difference that, like the edge of a knife, cut down deep to the bone. His mother wouldn't have shed a tear over the death of Matthew O'Connor, but curled up in his cot in the Brig, Querl Dox wept wretchedly over the passing of the most ridiculously-named superhero he'd ever known.
He hadn't quite felt this way at first. First, he'd just been numb. He'd been numb when he'd tried to give Jeka his flight ring and she refused and as Jeka had been taken away to the pods for healing after what his mother had done to her. He'd been numb as he was given medical treatment and turned away all visitors, including Brenda. He'd been numb when facing the Council and demanding he be imprisoned for what he'd done to Daniel and Punchy and the others. He'd been numb in their face of their compassion and insistence that he didn't need to be locked up, that probation and psychiatric treatment and monitoring were enough in light of his guilt and his treatment of his mother.
When he heard the news that Punchy had died before he had the chance to thank him for trying to save him, for talking him down out of despair at the lowest moment of his entire life, that was ironically when the despair came back full force. It felt terrible.
It also felt good to feel, to not be like his mother. That was the fine line between them, thin as the edge of a knife but a difference that, like the edge of a knife, cut down deep to the bone. His mother wouldn't have shed a tear over the death of Matthew O'Connor, but curled up in his cot in the Brig, Querl Dox wept wretchedly over the passing of the most ridiculously-named superhero he'd ever known.
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"I'm not asking you not to feel guilty, Querl. I'm not even asking you not to accept any consequences. Just... not THESE consequences. I'm sure there's some more constructive way for you to feel a sense of atonement, and you'd be doing me a favor not making me come down to the brig every time I want to see you."
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It was somewhere between a statement and a question.
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Her fingers squeezed a little more firmly on his shoulder.
"All I wanted for the last day and a half was to see you and know you were okay."
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"I feel the same way for you now that I did then, except for also being inexpressably grateful that we lived and wanting to hug you until approximately the end of time."
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"This is the first time in my life that I've dealt with grief and guilt and negative emotions when I've actually had the emotional capacity to feel them without having the suppress them. I don't know how to process them and make them go away and I don't know what consequences I should face for my actions when I've violated every ideal, oath, and principle I held dear."
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"But you have to allow yourself to that distance. You have to not double back and hate yourself for not feeling bad anymore when you start to turn a corner."
"As for consequences, what did the council suggest?"
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Perhaps a part of his wanting to just be locked up had something to do with the public humiliation aspect of it. Those terms weren't unfair in the least and were actually very compassionate and lenient, but it was still humiliating to go from being one of the trusted members of the crew responsible for some of the infrastructure to being a stranger hardly anyone knew that would have their every movement monitored and every action scrutinized.
The therapy, at least, he could agree on. He'd wanted it while even locked up. He knew he needed it, just as he had the last time he'd encountered his mother.
He thought he deserved to be regarded as a criminal. It didn't mean he wanted to walk around and have everyone see him as one, and those that didn't know him might suspect him of conspiring against them in secret, like so many had--like his mother had.
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"Did they say for how long? I know maybe on the outside it seems like being spyed on every second would seem like prison minus the room, but ... well if Stacy can watch you, she was watching all of us all the time anyway. And it would be temporary. It probably wouldn't be as bad to live through as whatever worst case scenario you're pondering."
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"It's not a matter of the length of time."
It's that everyone would know.
"It's always been different here. I grew up being a recognizable figure, judged for the deeds of my ancestors and while public perceptions of me changed over time because of my actions with the Legion, I still liked how it was here. Other than the individuals from back home, no one here knew and they trusted me rather quickly. There are things I won't be able to do now without supervision, and there are instances where the fact that I'm being monitored would become public knowledge, especially if the Council operates with any sort of transparency. The crew is going to know what I've done. When they find out about it, some of the newer members aren't going to trust me."
If he stayed locked up, he wouldn't have to face anyone.
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"Besides, if you can't stomach being social no one is going to MAKE you, Querl. If you want to hide in your quarters for a month I'll even bring you slop, promise."
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She's rambling a little, but it's been a long time since she's been able to talk freely...
"You can't change their impression of you from in here. All you'll be to them is the bad rumors and scary stories and an enigma on top of it. Mystery has a way of fostering fear."
"If you can find it in yourself, when you're ready, to go out and put yourself to good use with the rest of the crew, then people will get to know you properly instead of guessing with only the bad stuff to go on."
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"Okay then."
She hesitated, guilt clawing at her for demanding anything of him in a moment like this, but...
"Can I ask you for something? It's small, I promise."
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"You can ask me anything."
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"Can I have that hug now?"
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"I love you," the words were nearly choked with emotion that he wouldn't have even let himself feel in the past. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
And then he wept again, like he had been earlier.
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The other arm anchored him close, wrapping perhaps too hard around his waist as she pressed her eyes shut against the sting of tears.
"It's okay." she murmured, nose pressed just above his ear, voice cracking some at that first bitter gust of breath as he broke into sobs again. "It's okay... Whatever you think you need to apologize for, I forgive you. I don't even care. I'm just so glad you're okay."