greatoldjohn | TLV Inbox

You're running again.

[ Not mean. Not harsh. Matter of fact. ]

Being a nurse or being a grifter is a choice. Misty did what she did and then she chose to do something helpful.

She also chose to shoot Arthur on the barest evidence. She's chosen to kill people for less.

What you choose and whether it's harmful is day by day. So. Why can Misty graduate but you can't? Why are you kind to her but not yourself?

Why didn't you tell her to leave when she came here because she deserves punishment?

Edited 2022-12-07 19:48 (UTC)

You're not gonna graduate me in a day.

[ It might be true, but it's also true that she's trying to get away from the question, even if it's just for a few seconds. ]

I'm not god. I don't know what she does or doesn't deserve. But I know what I deserve, and it's not this. Because I'm not who I used to be. I'm not gonna put what's right ahead of what my own wants. I'm a lost cause, so I'm living life that way. Or I was, until I got dragged here.

Bullshit.

[ And that is calm and steady but firm. ]

You just keep piling up bullshit to make excuses for why you can't do better. That's all I'm hearing, Nat. Every single thing you say:

'Lost cause'
'What I deserve'
'Not who I used to be'

[ He floats up, essentially 'standing'. ]

Either there's a god and they tossed you here, knowing you can do better, or there isn't a god and all of this horseshit about 'should' and 'deserve' and punishment' is just that: horseshit. Whichever is true: you get to decide what you do and whether you're going to be less of a shithead.

I know we're not fixing this in a day. Or a month. Maybe not even a year. But we're starting now. And we start by not running the fuck away from the fact that we chose to be what we were. And we can choose to be better.

Edited 2022-12-07 20:34 (UTC)

It isn't horseshit if you base it on what you've done. On patterns of behavior. But I know what you're gonna say: we can break those patterns.

[ Twenty-five years of patterns is a lot, is all. It's daunting. ]

I said I'm not gonna do something like this again, so I won't. So, expect messages at any goddamn hour where I'm telling you that you should throw me out with the trash and find yourself someone who won't be here for years.

If that was the case, then I wouldn't be a warden. [ His tone gets a little more fervent ] I am not even human, Natalie. I was not even built, was not created, with a purpose that included joy or love or kindness or beauty.

You want to talk about patterns? I am here with you as living proof that they can change. Not easily. Not perfectly. But they do.

But they don't change unless you decide to change them.

Years?

[ There's that evil laugh, a little more rueful than she's heard it. ]

You know better. If you were using your head right now, instead of spouting the same tired bullshit you always use to run away from your own responsibilities, to yourself, to the people around you, you wouldn't say that. But you're already shutting down, running away, giving up not because you can't do better.

Because you don't want to.

[ The thing is-- the reason why that leaves her reeling for a few seconds, is that she doesn't want to do better. She's tired of trying, and failing, and dragging herself up off the ground to try again all because of a promise. And, okay, Travis didn't break his promise, but she still meant to shoot her own head off. She still died that night. ]

Yeah. [ A bitter, mirthless little chuckle. ] Because I'm fucking exhausted. Because life just would not stop throwing shit at me. And yeah, that's over now, and I'm here, and you're not giving up no matter what I say or do.

But I want a fucking break. I wanna wallow and whine and be a fucking idiot-- without hurting anyone. I'm really fucking tired, John, so let me have this. [ Her voice cracks on 'tired.' ] Let me get through this shit. And then? Then you can grill me and lecture me and make me write a goddamn dissertation. But right now, I can't. If I force it, it's fake.

Is that honest enough for you?

[ He's silent for a good long moment. Then he says, very gently. ]

Yes.

[ He considers and then he floats around, floats down, and it's... it's an offer. He's putting his mask near her fingertips. ]

[ It's clear what he means by the gesture, and she has to admit that there's something... nice, about when he's with someone. With her. It only happened once, and it wasn't her choice, but it ended up being okay. Strange, but okay.

So, with a shaky breath, she reaches out and takes his mask. ]

[ The mask slips against her fingers and the robes disappear as the world goes utterly, completely dark. There's the soft hum of the electronics, the gentle sounds of life around the cabin, but there is nothing but blackness. Her leg goes numb from the knee down and her nose will start wiggling and twitching.

There's something else, the feeling of him, settling inside of her and around her and part of her. His voice echoes differently than the last time, given she can hear other things, but it's still a world away from when he's across the table. Much more intimate.

The world is small.

The world is just them for right now.]

[ I can guide you to the bed. Perhaps we lay down for a while. ]

[ Intimate and dark and... safe. She's not alone in the darkness. ]

Okay, but you need to stop doing that. [ She puts a hand on her nose. Sorry about the tingly prickling sensation from when she's close to crying, though. At least she's smiling a little?

Standing is weird when the feeling in one leg cuts off at the knee, but she can still judge how her balance is. After a few steps (just getting up from the chair, stepping around it, and pushing it back in) she's almost used to it. ]

Okay. Let's go lie down.

[ Oh.

Sorry.

...I've never had a nose before. It's weird. ]

[ Then, easily enough- ]

[ We sat on the side closest to the kitchen area. So you need to step two feet to your right to get around the table. If you move your leg naturally, I'll follow the movement. Just lead with your right. ]

[ Noses are weird, now that she thinks about it. Why do they have to protrude the way they do? Plenty of mammals get by without that.

Okay. Two feet to her right to get around the table. She takes it slow, keeping a hand on the table so she's oriented as she moves. Once she's sure the table is clear, she starts carefully walking back to the bedroom. The dishes can wait. She doesn't want him to leave, she realizes, his mask still held firmly in one hand. ]

It's in your best interest not to let me hit my shins on anything. Hurts like hell.

[ I wouldn't let you do that anyway. Also, if you like, you can put my mask against your leg or your arm or something; the Admiral adjusted it so I can hold myself on as needed.

Stop. You're about to hit the bedtable. Shift a half foot to your left, then straight, and you can put your hand down on the table to guide yourself onto the bed. ]

[ She puts the mask against her upper arm, lets it go one finger at a time, and... there it stays.

Then it's easy, a few more steps so she's sitting on the bed. She takes off her shoes and lies down on her side, relaxing as she exhales. ]

Have you ever felt tired? Not physically, obviously.

[ Yes. After a fight or something harrowing.

I feel wrung out. Drained. Laying down with Arthur like this always makes me feel better. I thought maybe you'd like it too.]

That's what I meant when I said I'm tired. I haven't been through what you and Arthur have, but...

[ She shrugs one shoulder. ]

This is actually pretty nice. Lot less depressing than lying around with the tv on to try and drown everything out.

[ You've been through plenty. Especially in the last few days. i'm not... unaware that this was difficult on you too.

But you can have this when you want. I don't mind sharing this with you. ]

[ A pause before- ]

[ Would you like for me to read to you? ]

Edited 2022-12-08 01:18 (UTC)

[ Not nearly as bad as it's been for Arthur, so her response to that is another shrug. At least John can comfort Arthur like this-- god. After this, Natalie will get her sight back, but Arthur is blind even without John. And she shot him. Fuck. She really went for a low blow, didn't she. ]

You don't have to leave Arthur if you're with him when I ask.

[ Not "if" but "when." She's already sure she'll ask.

...she can't remember the last time someone read to her. ]

Ywah. Sure. Which book?

[ I know I don't have to. We'll work that out between ourselves if it comes up. ]

[ A short pause as he considers what's in the room. ]

[ I started the Emily Dickinson book but I got distracted. Would that work? ]

Yeah, that works. Where'd you leave it?

[ It's on the dresser beside the bed, next to the vase. If you move your hand slowly, it's the second one down in the stack. ]

Edited 2022-12-08 16:30 (UTC)

[ She does so, carefully pulling out the book without knocking over the one on top of it. Then she sits up, piling the pillows against the headboard to lean back on, knees bent. It's comfortable to hold the book this way. ]

...it's not upside down, is it?

[A low chuckle. It's a little easier to feel the warmth of it while he's like this.]

[ No. Shall we begin at the beginning or where I left off? ]

[ Warm and safe. Like... like a crackling fire on a cold night, and a warm, thick blanket around her like a cape. ]

Go from where you left off.

[ She runs a finger along the top of the closed book, looking for any kind of bookmark or placeholder. ]

[ All right. There's a little ribbon down near the bottom. It should pull open to the right spot. It's thin.]

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cw suicide mention, a bit graphic

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