applesaucedream | [closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

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[closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

Seth is having a familiar dream. He's sitting in an underground interrogation room, cuffed hands resting on the cold metal table. Head bowed, eyes fixed on the table. Waiting. He's alone, but who knows who's on the other side of a one-way mirror next to him.

Elsewhere, as Daniel enters the dream, Seth casts him as someone being shown around the rebel base, perhaps as some sort of inspector, or someone who's just gotten their security clearance upped. The man showing him around is some sort of doctor, or a supervisor, probably both.

"Our next prisoner, J-19, has been working with us for three and a half months now. Doing good work, mostly compliant these days, though he can get a bit unruly sometimes," the man says, leading the way down one of the many underground corridors.

[Warning: ...I don't even know what all to warn for. Imprisonment, abuse, torture, temporary paralysis, NPC death, guns, a lot of emotions, sensory overload, suicide mentions... It's heavy.]

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Seth winces a little at the touch, not used to anyone touching him unexpectedly for, well, positive reasons, though he quickly relaxes against it again. As much as he can relax at the moment, sitting on the floor and leaned over a toilet bowl while his stomach contracts.

Thankfully it doesn't last terribly long, what with having very few stomach contents to divulge, and this not actually being a reaction to anything digestive, just... well, the shock, he assumes.

"Sorry.." he says, once it seems like he won't be interrupted by stomach acid again. He's shaking more again, though at least now it makes sense why he would be.

Daniel doesn't say anything immediately, simply hands Seth the washcloth. He's shivering rather violently again, which is...really not a good sign. He gives Seth's back a few reassuring rubs but god, he looks awful. And probably still in shock.

It looks like the worst has passed, at least.

"It's okay," he replies, for the life of him completely at a loss as to what Seth could possibly be apologizing for. "You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you lying down, okay? Think you can walk?"

Seth wipes his mouth and just sits there, taking deep, steadying breaths and trying to get his body to calm down a little. He's only partly successful.

He nods at the question and slowly gets to his feet, flushing after him, and turns to the sink first, just to rinse out his mouth and get rid of the taste of sick.

"You should be lying down," he realises suddenly, because Seth's not the one who's been shot here. And just because Daniel isn't losing any more blood doesn't mean he hasn't already been deprived of quite a lot of it.

"Alicia took care of it. I'll be fine." That's not strictly speaking true - she might have patched the wound, but there's still the bodily need for recuperation and the blood loss factor, however minimal he was able to keep the latter - but Seth looks about ready to collapse on his feet.

He continues, just as calmly, while offering his good hand for support: "And I'm not the one who can't stop shivering."

True, Daniel's not feeling great. But Seth's definitely been pushed to his limit. More accurately, he was pushed to his limit months ago and then kept at his limit for an unhealthily extended period of time, and he's long overdue for a crash.

Seth doesn't really know what Alicia did, so he's going to have to take Daniel's word for it until he gets evidence to the contrary. That's good, though. Daniel will be fine.

He hesitates for a moment before accepting Daniel's support, making his way back to the bed and sitting down on it, toeing off his boots. He feels clammy and tense and wiped out, but most of the nausea seems to have passed, and his heart's no longer going a mile a minute.

And Seth's out. He's really out. There are no guards here, nothing to truly stop him from leaving if he wants to, no one to make him do anything. Even when Daniel is telling him what to do, it's always a suggestion or request, not an order. If Seth insisted on splitting up, taking his own path, he's sure Daniel would try to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't physically prevent him. And that goes an awful long way in making him feel safe.

Seth still looks about ready to pass out and he's probably still in shock but at least he's sitting on the bed now so, progress.

Daniel sits next to him in case Seth actually does pass out. He doesn't seem to be one hundred percent there, like he's trapped in processing mode. Daniel doesn't blame him. Three and a half months is more than enough time to instinctively become adaptive to an environment, however unfriendly, and he'll likely need some time to adjust.

The silence stretches on and while Seth's anxiety seems less, it's very much still present.

"You'll be okay now," Daniel says finally, looking back over to him. "I promise I'm gonna do whatever I can to make sure of that."

He's not sure if Seth wants the reassurances but he certainly looks like he needs them.

Seth looks back at Daniel and smiles, a little more solidly now. Like it's not just words, but actual meaning that he can begin to absorb. "Thanks.." he answers quietly, nodding a little. "For everything," he adds, because it needs saying. Even if there's no way to express how much thanks Daniel really deserves for doing this.

He deliberates whether to get any more undressed, as he's been usually sleeping pretty fully dressed for a long, long time. It feels strange to do anything different, but his t-shirt is sweaty, and these clothes are... Well, they're almost a prison uniform to him. They're just regular clothes, of course, but at this point they feel very specific to that place. And just the fact that he can sleep in his underwear like he used to once upon a time, without (rational) fear of being woken up and dragged elsewhere, it's what makes him decide to do so. He peels off the t-shirt first, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground, before starting on the trousers.

To Daniel's relief, Seth looks to be following through on the "lying down" suggestion. He gets off the bed to give him some space and wanders over to scoop up his discarded shirt and jacket along with Seth's hoodie. He hangs them in the bathroom where at least then they won't be staining the carpet. Daniel doesn't want to have to explain that to the hotel staff.

He re-enters the room to find Seth's very literal back to him as his shirt has now been deposited onto the floor. He looks a little bruised, Daniel notes absently, but that's not surprising considering what he's been through recently. But there's a thin dark line of markings on his upper back that don't look like any kind of bruising he's ever seen. Daniel moves closer and squints at them, concerned, until he's able to tell exactly what they are.

Then he sees he can read them, and his insides rapidly congeal into ice.

Daniel makes a small, strangled noise that he stifles almost immediately, a completely unintentional reaction to the horribly familiar little black line of numbers that have been tattooed to Seth's back. He doesn't mean to draw attention to it, that's probably the last thing Seth needs right now, but the damage is done.

Seth's just shimmied out of his trousers and socks when he hears Daniel make a noise behind him, and he turns in time to see Daniel's horrified expression. Something must be wrong, but Seth can't tell what it could be.

"What's wrong?" he asks, confused and worried now.

"You're -" Daniel makes an abortive hand gesture at his back. "I didn't realize they'd -"

He takes a shaky breath and looks away. Assigning Seth a number title in lieu of a name was a very deliberate act of dehumanization but going ahead and tattooing the number on him goes even farther. It's a constant, active reminder, an implication that Seth can't ever fully escape that place and the people in it.

They branded him. Like property.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, rubbing at his mouth with one hand and wishing he hadn't noticed at all. "I'm sorry, I just, I didn't realize they'd - done that. To your back."

It takes a long while for Seth to realise what Daniel is stammering about. He almost reaches back to see if there's anything there, worried he's gotten hurt without noticing or something.

"Oh," he answers, darkening a little once he finally catches up. He shifts on the bed, sitting up against the pillows and slipping his legs under the covers, so his back won't be turned against Daniel anymore, though he doesn't look up to meet his eyes. "Yeah, it was just... One particularly sadistic bloke who didn't much like it when I punched him in the face. Said it'd remind me of my place."

Seth probably could've done a better job of managing his anger at times, but there was a lot of frustration and emotions that he needed to vent somehow. Actually getting to take it out on a target who had actually done something to hurt him had been very liberating and rewarding, or at least until both the immediate and long-term punishments.

Daniel paces, restless, because he doesn't know what to do. He's been unwavering in his commitment to help Seth through this, just as he was steadfast in finding a way to get him out. It's what he is, someone who wears away the edges of grief and ache and takes them into himself and talks things through with sympathy and automatic compassion and all of it is instinctual, compulsory, necessary, and yet.

It bothers him. No, understatement - it distresses him, viscerally, because however much Seth might treat it with tired anger or disgust, it will always be there, a physical mark of the dehumanization and mental torture and whatever else was done to him. It's inked into his skin, for god's sake, taking all his mental scarring and making it tangible, physical, real, unhidden, baring it for the world.

And Daniel doesn't know what to do about it. He stopped talking to psych years ago; he doesn't know what the professional take on this would be.

So he paces, boiling with self-righteous anger and anxiety and frustration, taking off his glasses and turning them over and over in restive hands, and only stops when the excessive movement starts making him dizzy.

"What did they do to you?" he asks, a knee-jerk question, then quickly shuts his eyes and raises a hand in protest. "No, no don't - answer that. You don't have to, I'm sorry, I just -" His voice is shaking and he swallows to get a better grasp of it. "They did that to you."

It's old news to Seth, one of those familiar things that he hates, but he can't really work up any anger about, at least not in the state he's in. He's just weary and anxious, and at the moment the feeling of soft sheets and a fluffy pillow against his skin is an awful lot more tangible and present than what happened to him in there. Not that any of that's forgotten. It's lurking in the back of his mind, and he keeps remembering what getting that power in him was like. But right now it seems to be taking more of a backseat.

So Seth merely watches, slouched tiredly against the headboard. He's glad Daniel retracts the question, because that's a rather big one that Seth in no way has the capacity to answer at the moment.

"You're gonna fuck up your shoulder again," he comments quietly, in an attempt to get Daniel to calm down. While he appreciates Daniel being angry on his behalf, Seth doesn't like to see him upset.

"Sorry. Sorry," he says, shutting his eyes. He's not helping here. Seth is tired, Daniel's tired, they're both exhausted and injured and he's just making things worse.

He sits down in the chair and stands up again and walks to the other end of the room and finally sits on the other side of the bed because Seth has a very good point, he's going to mess his shoulder up again if he doesn't sit still.

Daniel's full of too many words, all of them useless, and he has to accept that this is beyond him right now. And Seth's right, he really should be horizontal, so he lies down. And quickly puts his glasses on the nightstand so he stops fiddling with them. And tries to stop thinking about it. And mostly fails.

"I'm just glad you're safe now," he mumbles finally.

Seth shifts to lie down properly once Daniel finally makes it to the bed. Exhaustion finally seems to be gaining the upper hand over all the other conflicting emotions.

"Me too," he agrees, barely audible now. Pretty soon he's asleep like a rock. For a couple hours, at least, though it's a bit more spotty after that. He keeps waking up at random noises, or from nightmares, or just for no good reason at all, but he forces himself to stay put and get some rest. So he just lies still, listening to Daniel's breathing next to him, until he's calmed down enough to slip off again.

Daniel doesn't sleep for what feels like hours; he realizes belatedly that he didn't even take off his shoes before simply lying down, still too used to sleeping in boots and BDUs and ready to be shaken awake to take off a moment's notice. And he's still tense from the everything they've had to collectively deal with for the past...ever.

After a while he resorts to the meditative sort of deep breathing, which takes its time but eventually does the trick. And it certainly helps that Seth is right there, away from cells and interrogation rooms and rebels. Seth's safe, that's what's important, and that's the thought that finally allows for him to sleep.

Daniel is still asleep by the time Seth finally gives up on getting any more sleep, though he remains in bed. There's not really much for him to do. He could take a shower, but he doesn't have any clean clothes to change into, and he might wake Daniel. And if he doesn't, well, then he'll be worried about leaving him on his own while asleep. A mostly irrational fear, but not one he sees enough reason to try to overcome. He carefully leans over to check Daniel's wristwatch - he'd removed the battery from the phone and he doesn't have a watch himself - and sighs softly. Too early to do much, and Daniel needs rest to heal.

So he lies there, considering Daniel. Wondering what he's done to deserve such a friend. They don't even know each other that well, but here's Daniel risking his life, on the run. Who knows how much work and time he put into getting Seth out. And for what? Seth finds it impossible to believe it would be just to have an important ally, someone to give him powers. Too much risk, too little payoff, surely. So it must be personally motivated, or perhaps merely altruistic, or more likely a combination. It sort of puts Seth in awe, and he's pretty sure that's not just from having low standards to measure from.

Eventually he decides it's late enough that he can get up and not feel guilty if he wakes Daniel. His body feels sore from everything that happened yesterday, but a better state than it was last night, mostly. He carefully slips out from the covers, and pulling on his t-shirt first, then going for the rest.

It's not until Seth gets up and starts moving around when Daniel stirs a little and promptly groans because getting up feels like such an insurmountable task, especially with the way his shoulder is aching from its rough treatment the day before. Daniel has historical difficulty making himself vertical at early hours without the assistance of coffee. The only thing he can manage at the moment is to drag his good arm over his eyes in a halfhearted attempt to wake himself up or possibly remind himself that he's still sentient, he's not certain.

Finally Daniel drops the arm and looks over at Seth.

"Morning," he slurs. "I'm assuming it's morning." That would explain the aching. And the head-aching. Which would ordinarily fall under the general category of "aching" but the headache is unrelated to injury and also much more pronounced, so Daniel decides it needs its own denotation.

Thankfully, he's recovering brain cells at an appreciable rate.

"How you feeling?"

"Better than last night," he answers honestly, which is probably the best he can say for how he feels. But waking up inside a hotel room rather than in a cell, well, it's hard to properly care about how badly he feels, whether physically, mentally or emotionally. Because now there's real hope things will get better.

"I'm going to go out and buy some clothes," he says decisively, pulling on his trousers as he get to his feet. "You can't show yourself outside in this," he says, heading to the bathroom to check the sizes of Daniel's bloodied and torn shirt and jacket.

"You stay there. I'll try to be back in less than an hour." He's trying to sound more confident than he feels. He's nervous as hell, but it needs doing, and he needs to acclimatise himself to actually being around people. It's probably going to be harder now, without Daniel by his side and worries to occupy his mind, but at least he's got a purpose, something to focus on.

It takes a good thirty seconds for everything Seth is saying to actually reach Daniel's brain and another thirty seconds for him to fully process it enough to formulate a reply.

"Clothes," he repeats in something that vaguely resembles English, which is not really a reply so much as meaningless repetition so he expands on it. "Good idea."

Yes, clothes sound like a good idea. Preferably shirts. He's already wearing pants and, perplexingly, shoes. Which he must have slept in. Without realizing it. All right then.

Daniel makes it to a ninety degree angle, sitting at the edge of the bed with one palm scrubbing at his eyes.

"And coffee," he adds, because the parts of him that are now cognizant have begun demanding caffeine with incessantly loud voices. "That'd be good too."

Edited 2014-10-23 19:15 (UTC)

Good thing Seth hasn't had anything regularly enough at the rebel base to become addicted to it, right? Well, at least not in this dream. Probably his subconscious letting him know he's not ready to reveal that whole thing to Daniel.

"I will get coffee," he promises, pocketing the wallet and the room key, and pulling on his shoes. "Alright... Back soon," he says, trying to treat this as a casual thing, like he does this every day, turning to the door and taking a deep breath, then steeling himself and heading out before Daniel has a proper chance to worry about him.

"Mm." Daniel half-waves a hand in farewell, still lacking the wherewithal to emote properly or consistently.

Eventually he gets his glasses back on and becomes conscious enough to start worrying, even if Seth hasn't been gone all that long. His perception of yesterday's events is rushed and blurry at the moment, but he remembers the mild terror of navigating the more public areas. Daniel wishes he'd been awake enough to offer to pick up clothes in Seth's stead, though there is the small problem of lacking a non-bloody shirt.

In the meantime, Daniel paces and waits for a sign that something's gone wrong and is generally far too jittery for someone who hasn't even had caffeine yet.

The good thing about being in the middle of Manhattan is it's not far to... well, just about anything you might reasonably need, actually. And they're right next to Broadway (the street, not the theatre district), so there's plenty shops.

Seth manages to pretty quickly find somewhere to buy a hoodie and a jacket, and a shirt and jacket for Daniel, all very basic and plain, as well as some shoelaces. He puts his clothes on right away, which helps with the cold, and a little bit with the anxiety once he pulls his hood up. He feels far too recognisable, especially while his neck tattoo had been there for anyone to see and recognise him by.

He also buys two burner phones and puts some money on them, before he finally moves on to breakfast. He buys coffee for them both, butter croissants, and a large brownie. He doesn't even slightly care that this is not what Alicia meant when she said to eat healthy. He hasn't had anything like this in forever.

By the time he gets back to the hotel room, his heart is thumping wildly, he feels kind of clammy again, but he hasn't had a panic attack or anything, so he's going to call it a win.

Daniel, who's been spending the past five minutes sitting on the edge of the bed and trying not to wring his hands, practically springs to his feet when Seth re-enters.

"Hey," he greets him, completely unnecessarily. "You doing all right?"

Seth doesn't look all right in the conventional sense, even if he looks better than he did yesterday. He's a little too pale, and Daniel guesses that his excursion didn't help much in this regard.

Seth nods and hands Daniel his coffee first of all. Then he puts the bag of clothes and phones on Daniel's side of the bed, toes off his shoes (which he hasn't laced yet), and sits down on the bed, pulling his feet up and crossing them, something he's gotten used to get his feet off the cold floor in his cell, even if it isn't cold in here.

The coffee's thankfully cooled off a little on the way here, but first of all he takes one of the croissants, breathing it in a bit before taking a bite. God, warm and fresh baked goods, it's like a religious experience.

[closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

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