selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

[And yet, Mia has met people created in artificial ways, part magic and part science. All of them, she thinks, have souls. Some are grumpier about it than others.

Thankfully that isn't what Billy means.

She sees him looking at his hands and concern narrows her gaze.]

Because it takes too much effort to control and maintain them, with magic like yours?

More or less.

[Inwardly, he wonders if he should elaborate. Tell her the story, or at least what he knows of it. It makes a lot more sense that way.

Then again, his existence doesn't make sense no matter how much information one has on it. Hell, more info actually makes it more confusing. And he's in no state to explain it properly.

And so-]

People are different from objects. If you make a chair out of magic, it's solid, it's real, and it won't fade away because it isn't meant to change. But people change. They grow, they learn, they talk to people and develop relationships. You can't... make a person and then just set them loose and hope for the best. You can't keep living your life like you never did it. Their life is tied to yours. And if you forget about them, even for a second, the magic disappears.

[He thinks about Anja, and Susanna, and Robin's parents, and all of Kurt's fuzzy blue kids. They were tied to him as irrevocably as they'd been tied to their parents. Tied to the spell that made them exist. But they were never alive, not even for a second. It was a beautiful lie.]

Magic isn't life. It's just a manipulation of truths.

[How powerful Billy must be, now, whether it is artificial or not. That he could maintain so much for such a length of time.]

The way it works - that makes a lot of sense. Our abilities and what we believe about them are very different.

[She doesn't want to imagine what it would be like if the healing she could do wasn't real. If she and others only believed it because they could not bear the alternative.]

I hope I haven't asked too many questions and tired you out.

It's fine, don't... don't worry about it.

[He shakes his head, pauses to consider it further, then shrugs it off.]

I think... I've slept enough already. It's time to wake up.

[He says the last part like he's making a personal request to himself; like he knows it's time but he's still working on it, still sleeping in his own head.]

Do you feel up to going anywhere? Not out of the clinic, but for a little walk, maybe?

[The walls of this room aren't exactly welcoming or friendly. She has half a mind to find something peaceful to turn on in one of the training rooms and let him sit there, instead.]

[A wave of unease rushes through him, quelled only by her amendment that it wouldn't involve leaving the clinic. Even the idea of coming out of his room is borderline terrifying, but... she's given him such a peace of mind that he can't help but wonder if it might be good for him. Maybe he can trust her... to do what's best for him? She is his doctor this week, after all.]

...To where?

Depending on how you feel, it might just be a walk down the hall and back. We have a little kitchen sort of room, and if you like, you can eat in there today.

[She almost makes a joke, about Tony and pop-tarts. Bringing him up doesn't sound like the best idea at the last second, and cutting herself off gives her a moment to look at Billy more carefully.]

You can say no. ['No' is in his expression.] What matters is what you feel like you can handle.

...That might be nice. [He shifts, testing his legs to see how he feels.] I need to leave a note for Teddy, though... if he comes back and I'm not here, he'll worry.

I think we can do better than a note.

[Mia holds both of her hands before her, palm-up, and a small blue creature appears atop them.]

One of my djinn can stay here, and if Teddy comes back, he'll tell him where we are. If there is a problem, he'll be able to let me know right away.

[Billy can't help but stare at it - either he's never seen it before or his mind and memory is very far away from their training sessions - and almost reaches out to poke at it, stopping himself at the last second. Don't go prodding at magic that doesn't belong to you, Kaplan.]

Ah... okay. Thanks... thanks?

[He looks between Mia and the djinn. Summon? Part of the same whole? Is he thanking her or the djinn or both?

He has no idea how this works, but either way, he's in.]

His name is Serac. [He would have let Billy poke him, just this once; instead he just says, "You're welcome," with a bit of superior affect. Mia leaves him in her place on the chair, so she can offer Billy an arm or two to lean on while he gets up.]

If you feel at all like turning around, and coming back, we will.

O... okay. Thanks.

[He accepts her arm and her help, sliding off the bed and straightening up, standing shakily on his own two feet for the first time all day. This is the most normal he's felt in a while, and it's... god, he doesn't even know. It's heavy, the weight of reality. He's not used to it, and he knows it'll just slip away from him before long.

But it's good. He knows it's good, and that's important.

So now he just... has to walk. That's not so hard, is it?]

[Mia stays close. Shakiness and general weakness are both good ways to lose his balance and fall. Still supporting him, she turns for the door to his room, intending to guide him along to get there.]

[Walking, walking. He can't help but glance over his shoulder briefly as they go, feeling indecisive and almost needing his window, but when it almost causes him to fall over, he forces himself to face forward again. He needs to be up. Needs to be on his feet.

Teddy'll be happy if he's walking, right?]

Ah, careful. [She holds his good arm until he has balance again.] Teddy would banish me if I let you fall.

[The smile, and tone, and quiet laugh at the end, they're all supposed to reassure him that she's joking. She would never let him fall.]

It's not far.

[They pass mostly empty and silent rooms, too.]

He wouldn't... he'd understand.

[Teddy's always very understanding. Especially now, after so much has happened. Too understanding, really. It feels almost...

....

But, no. He trusts Teddy. And right now, he's trusting Mia. It's okay. They'll be okay.]

Yes he would. He's just worried.

[About a lot of things, all centered on Billy and what Billy really thinks of him.

Mia leads him down the hall to their little break room; the only constant in there is something caffeinated ready on the counter. There is a little table against one wall, though, and if Billy seems shakier or off-balance she'll help him to the nearest chair.]

[He's probably better off on his feet - going from the window to a chair in another room isn't exactly a step up, or at least not much of one - but he doesn't want to put too much weight on her the whole time, so once they're close enough, he sets his free hand on the counter, using it to support himself. Better. Much better.]

I don't think I've ever been here before.

Most patients don't end up here. [A dry smile flits across her face.] If we're busy, most of us don't end up here either.

[The reason they're here, other than to get Billy out of his room temporarily, is so at least one of them can eat. Mia opens the refrigerator, looking for anything respectable but not too heavy.]

[He lets his gaze drift around the room while she's occupied elsewhere, taking it all in. It's actually kind of a cute little space, albeit kind of dusty and underutilized.]

It needs, um. A TV. All waiting rooms have TVs.

Hm. Maybe it does. I'll ask.

[She thinks she found him easy things to eat: toast and a sliced apple and some left-over soup that she will even battle the microwave to heat, for his sake.]

If you're hungry after this, I'll find something else. [But he ought to sit down and eat it, unless he thinks he can stand well enough without his good arm for support.]

[He glances over as she gets the food together, his eyes widening. He'd forgotten that part of the reason for this trip had been to get food. And he hadn't eaten much today, but his appetite lately hasn't been great to begin with.]

Oh... i-it's okay, I'm not... that hungry. You didn't have to...

I wanted to. It's all right if you don't eat it all.

[He should have something; she has hopes that eating in company will distract him enough that he finishes it anyway. Fixing herself a fast sandwich, she sits down at the table.]

[...Well... company does help a little, sure. It's enough to get him to trudge over and sit with her, poking absently at the soup. He's not great about conversation right now, so he kind of hopes that she doesn't mind his awkward silence, unless she knows a way to fill it.

....

Soup smells good, though.]

[The silence hardly bothers her. She watches him pretty closely - for signs of pain or panic or any big change - but eating in the quiet is no big deal. He'll talk, if he wants, just like he'll eat if he can.]

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