![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
no subject
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."
no subject
no subject
"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."
no subject
"You can ask me anything."
no subject
"Can I have that hug now?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."