selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

[Please, he says. It's not her.

He should have known.

It's because he's not a part of the illusion, Billy knows. It's because he wasn't enchanted not to see it. And that would be easy to fix, so easy, even easier than giving them all wings. He could do it.

And then he'd wake up from it, just like the others. And he'd hate you for it.

Listen to him, he's already begging you to stop. You made a promise.

No more magic.

...oh...

He'd forgotten.

Tentatively he steps forward, crouching down and gesturing with a hand to make the illusion of Teddy's mother back off. He watches Teddy, noticing the tears on his cheeks, the way he's flinching and shrinking away.]

...Teddy... Teddy, are you sure...?

[The question itself is a pointless formality. He already knows the answer he's going to get.

How could I have screwed this up so badly?]

[There's a whisper in his head that says no. There's a part of him that wants this to be real so badly. Maybe Billy just used magic to make their wings, her scent, all of that go away, maybe they're actually here, maybe his mom is alive and he can talk to her about everything and apologize for being a screw-up of a son and ask her so many questions that only she can answer. Maybe he can hug her and never let go. Wouldn't that be something, to be wrapped up in a mother's embrace again? One of the things he'd missed so terribly and longed to feel again?

But... she's not even acting like her. She - Sarah Altman is only acting the way Billy thinks she'd act when Teddy's upset, because he's never seen it happen in their household. How she'd stroke his hair and look him in the eyes, those eyes that could tell exactly how he felt no matter how much he hid it, and asked what was wrong, and even if he didn't answer, she wouldn't push for it. She'd just smile and spend time with him, watch a movie or a show with him, eat with him, joke with him and make him laugh, until whatever was bothering him just didn't anymore. He felt so comfortable with her that sometimes the reason for it would just slip out, and they would talk about it until Teddy had enough, and it was okay.

She was there when he hurt someone, badly, for the first time with his strength, when he was only a child who didn't know his own strength. She found ways to help him, never making a big deal if he broke something, just patiently worked with him until he learned to start controlling it himself.

She was there when he discovered his shapeshifting powers, never knowing he had them and was constantly using them until he did something major to his body and didn't know how to make it stop. This, she knew how to handle. She eased him back to his own shape, and when he cried so much he could barely breathe due to being some kind of monster, something immensely different from the others, she raised his chin and told him he was a mutant. It wasn't the truth. But it gave him a sense of belonging, a group to identify with, and in that moment, that was what he needed the most.

This illusion wouldn't do that. She isn't doing that. It's not her, it's not her, it's not her.

It's why that whisper barely grazes his mind, why a loud and resounding yes is there instead.

It's not her.]

Yes, god - [He can see her standing there, looking at him with hurt, and he buries his face in his knees and grips his hair enough to hurt.] Stop!

[That’s all the prompting he needs; with a muffled cry, Billy releases the spell, the light in his eyes fading back to normal - at least, what qualifies as normal for the past two weeks. Everyone in the room vanishes except for he and Teddy, and after what he just did, he really wants to vanish, himself. He screwed up. He screwed up big time. He presses a hand under his nose, covering his mouth and checking for blood. There’s none there this time, but he’d wanted to be sure. Teddy’s already so upset- the last thing he wants to do is make things worse.

He drops to his knees, reaching for Teddy, but too afraid to touch. This was his last chance, wasn’t it? One last ditch effort to make Teddy happy, and he’d completely failed. What’s he supposed to do now?]

Teddy? Teddy… are you okay…?

[He doesn’t look okay. He doesn’t feel okay...]

[Teddy doesn't answer. He lifts his head from his knees and stares ahead of him, right at the spot where his mom was. She's gone. Again. He's alone again. And it's so much worse this time, so much worse than when some stupid experiment would give him villagers as family members. This was the image of his mother, smiling and happy and looking at him with love. This was like taking his heart and twisting it, showing him what he could have had if she lived, what he missed, what he craved more than anything else in the world.

And she's gone again. She was never here in the first place. She's at the Avengers' Mansion, ashes scattered among the grass, near the spot where they'd look beyond the gate, him talking about the heroes he looked up to and her smiling, almost wistful, asking if he had a favorite, thinking one of them was handsome, and -

Oh god, he's so lost, he's alone and she's gone and she burned, burned, and he'd gone up and embraced a shadow of her like she was his own, and - and Billy did this, broke his promise, he -

Teddy can't stay there. His stomach feels sick, and that sickness spreads and makes him dizzy. He barely even hears Billy, doesn't want to hear him. Instead, he pushes himself forward, pushing Billy away by the shoulder, and runs to the restroom, the door slamming shut, enough to rock the wall around it, and locking the door.

Okay?

He's not okay in the slightest.]

[Billy remains frozen on his knees for a long moment, stricken, confused, so worried he feels physically ill. It's only his lack of appetite that keeps him from losing his lunch, and somehow he finds the strength to stand, to move to the bathroom door as quietly as he can. He presses up against it, too frightened to speak, just listening.

Teddy ran... he never runs like that, he...]

[Within, Teddy grips the edges of the toilet and does lose his lunch, one of the few times in his life that's ever happened. Once was when he ate something harmful to him when he was little, and the other was the night after his mom as murdered, when things wound down and reality hit him dead in the stomach.

It's the same feeling here, the dread of what reality truly is for him hitting him hard. His mom, one of his best friends, one of his only friends for a time, was...

His body recovers well enough from being ill, but Teddy still leans his forehead against the edge of the seat, just barely reaching up to flush the toilet. At least that can conceal the cry he lets out, and the rest are muffled when he presses his hands to his mouth and tries to control his breathing. Tears stream down his face, over his hands, dripping on his knees and the floor. It's been a long while since he felt anything like this, like he needs his parents but knows he can't find them, no matter how much he searches or calls their names. He still has her number in his starkphone, having never gained the courage nor the heart to erase it, and sometimes sends text messages to it, knowing he's only filling up the inbox, knowing there'll be a day when his message will bounce back. He knows she's not on the other end, he knows... and it only hits harder now, when, for just a few seconds, he actually thought she was there and alive...

Why would she be?

This is what it'll always be like for you.

You'll always be alone.]

Edited 2013-10-29 03:31 (UTC)

[Billy lasts as long as hearing Teddy sob before he stumbles away, hitting the nearest wall and backing up into the corner. He slides down the wall, landing hard, and tucks his knees to his chest, hands clenched tightly over his ears. Teddy's crying. He's crying, he's sick, and Teddy's never sick, he made him sick-

you make him sick

His hands tighten over his ears, breathing hard, trying to drown the sound out, but it keeps echoing in his head, over and over.

you failed you failed

you made him cry again

you always do this

ever since he came back you've done nothing but hurt him

he supported you, protected you, helped you find yourself again, piece by piece, and this is what you give him in return?

you think a stupid spell can make it all better?

your magic is broken

your promise is broken

no more magic, that's all he wanted, no more magic and you can't stop yourself

He gasps, smacking his head back against the wall, as if the act alone will drive the voices out, but all it does is make them grow louder, taunting him with his own failures. It's his own voice, it's always his own voice, but it doesn't even sound like him anymore. It's too calm, too confident. He's not that person anymore. It's a much better person than he is, now.

I want to be someone better

I want to be someone better

He wants to chant it, repeat it over and over, recreate the part of reality he hates more than anything else in the world. But it won't work. He knows it won't work. It's the one spell that never, ever does. And magic can't save him anymore, can it? His magic is broken, just like him. So broken it - he - even managed to drive Teddy away. He'd promised to never leave and Billy hadn't given him a choice.

Cut out his tongue, Loki had threatened- and god, Billy wishes he had, now. If he'd just cast that one little spell, driven him to it, maybe- maybe this wouldn't have happened. He can't cast if he can't speak. Or hear his words spoken. That was what the warden had said, hadn't he? He could do it himself- there's knives in the kitchen, he's got teeth- he could-

go ahead, mangle yourself trying to make it all better, leave another mess for Teddy to clean up

is that all you can do?

He goes still, the only sign of movement a steady tremor passing through his body. It's true, isn't it? It would be so easy for him, but Teddy would have to deal with it, Teddy would see him like that and how would he feel?

relieved

no, that's just you

The truth is, he doesn't know what's best for Teddy anymore. He thought he did, this time, and look how wrong he was. Look how much damage he caused. Over and over, he can hear it. Over and over. The sound of broken promises and broken hearts.

don't hurt yourself, don't leave a mess

just

disappear]

...I... I-I want to die... I want to die... IwanttodieIwanttodieIwanttodieIwanttodie--

[one more spell and he'll be free

that's good, isn't it? that's right-]

[Teddy doesn't hear what's going on, the sound of his own harsh cries and the blood pounding in his ears drowning it all out. If he knew, he would've stopped himself and Billy as soon as he could.

But right now, he's too deep in his own grief to think of anything else. It's like reliving that night again, when he'd woken up in sweat and then ended up just like this, head against the warming seat and hands over his mouth to keep from waking anyone else up.

He wants to grab his phone and call her number. He wants to leave a voicemail. He wants to hear her voice say that she isn't there right now, but leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can. He wants, he wants -

God, he's just a stupid kid who misses his mom and wants her back, is that so wrong?]

[It takes at least ten minutes of chanting it before Billy realizes he's still alive.

He trails off slowly, his hands drifting down from his head to fall limp against his sides, and he leans back until his head touches the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. He's not dead.

I'm not dead.

It's another two minutes of quietly repeating the phrase to himself over and over before it really sinks in. He's not dead, but why? His magic's supposed to work when he wishes for something, when he really wants it. And after all this, after everything he's done and everything he's been through, what could he possibly want more? What could be conflicting with that desire?

....

....

....

iwanttolive

With that one, tiny, pathetic realization, a sound escapes his lips, a little sob-hiccup-laugh that he can't bury, so he just lets it out. He can't die. He can't die because he wants to live. How stupid is that? How selfish?

I want to see Teddy smile again.

I want it to not be too late.

I want to make everything better again.

I want to be me.

I want to be better.

It's terrifying. The will to live is terrifying. It grips his chest, curls around his heart like a fire, seering and aching and choking at his breath, and it hurts but it feels good. He laughs as much as he cries, quietly, hands pressed over his mouth to muffle the sound, tears slipping unhindered between his fingers. It's not as if he really liked who he was, or thought very highly of himself. Before this happened, before everything fell to pieces. He was proud, a bit. He liked living. Sometimes he even loved it. He loved his family and he loved his friends, and he loved being a super hero. And Teddy. He loved Teddy. He loved living with Teddy and being with Teddy and seeing his smiling face every day.

He loved living.

Loves.

He loves living.

The spell didn't work. He doesn't want to die, so the spell didn't work.

Thank god. Thank god.

And so he cries, because now that he's staying alive he doesn't know what else to do.]

[It's much the same thing for Teddy; he's alive and he doesn't know what to do. What's a teenager supposed to do when the one guiding figure in his life is gone?

...

Pick up the pieces, glue them together as best as you can, and keep going.

His mother died for him to protect him, to ensure that he kept living. Her last words were that his real mother wanted to protect him too, even from her own people, even from ones she considered her friends.

It was by their love that he was kept alive and, though he's always unsure about bringing his religious upbringing into anything, he's sure there was some higher power at work for keeping them all alive, too. God, or whatever anyone else believed in, whatever his mom and mother believed in. They were all put here for a reason, even if it's not an important one.

He's still looking for his reason, and his mom ensured that he'd find it.

Teddy might not know what to do with his life, even less so when he'll return home. But his mom, his mother, even his father, gave him the chance to find it.

His tears slow, enough that he can just shift again and make them stop completely, although he doesn't make a move to wipe them away just yet. He still sits there, arms around his stomach now, thinking about all kinds of things and letting his grief settle.

He just needs a few more minutes, he knows it. Then he can stand up, wash his face and...]

[Eventually, Billy settles down, at least enough to try and think clearly while he still has the time - and the sense of self. Inwardly, he begins making something of a to-do list for the future, eyes closing, checking them off one by one in his mind. To keep him occupied, to keep him focused. To become a better person... the hard way.

No more magic, he already decided, is at the top of the list. He won't promise Teddy again- he won't promise anything to Teddy again, not when he keeps breaking them- but he'll promise himself, and hopefully, when the responsibility is on his shoulders, he'll hold himself to it.

No hurting yourself, no dying, is number two. Two and three, really. Either of them would only cause Teddy more harm, in the end, and that's the last thing he wants or needs. Teddy's what matters right now. His safety, his well-being, his sanity, his happiness. He'll stay alive and well for Teddy's sake. Because he wants it. Because he wants to live.

Find yourself, is the last on the list - for now, as he's sure he'll come up with more later - and in a way, the most important. All of his problems stem from how lost he is, how he's drowning in the dark and half the time can't even think to reach for the help people have been offering to him. They did their part. The rope's been dropped. He needs to climb it.

That's why, then and there, tucked away in the corner of the room, alone in the dark, he tucks his body in close, sitting cross-legged, feet up, hands on his knees. His back is straight but not rigid, and he focuses on just... breathing for a while, calm and quiet, in and out. Marveling in the simple act of air flowing through his lungs.

I'm alive.

I shouldn't be alive.

He'd almost died, he remembers. Before. When they'd been taken. He'd forgotten for a while, but he can feel the scars around his neck where the collar had rested, the arcs of pale, tightened skin forming a ring, almost like the collar had been burned into his flesh. He thinks back on that near-death, sinks into it for a moment, and then lets it go, too.

I'm alive.

I'm alive because I want to be.

It's so... liberating, that feeling, and he lets it wash over him, losing track of time as he waits. Calm, calm. He'll be calm for Teddy. He'll be useful. He'll support his partner in his time of need and he will not. Use. Magic.

Ever.

Never again.

Most of all - one more for the list, a chant he says under his breath without casting, a wish to the wind instead of a poke at reality - I want to be someone better.

He chants, he breathes, he settles. And he waits. He's not budging until Teddy comes out, so they can talk. So he can listen. After that... well, it depends.

But he's alive.

So that's something.]

[Eventually, the water runs to clean his face, because while he can shift things on or away, he can't exactly shift away the dried tear tracks on his face. He presses his face against the hand towel, breathes into it for a moment, then lowers it to look into the mirror.

God, he hates what he sees.

But right now, he needs to focus. His eyes are red, they should be clear again. There's still tension in his brow. His cheeks are slightly flushed, and there's a spot on his forehead where he'd pressed against the toilet seat for... how long now? He isn't sure.

The thought of going out there and seeing Billy again doesn't give him the same comfort it usually does. He just... doesn't want to see that same blue in his eyes, doesn't want to see him so distant... doesn't want to call and be ignored again. Just all the more evidence that he's alone after all.

Most of all, he doesn't want to see him creating spell after spell to make him happy. Breaking promise after promise in the process.

Still... he can't hide away forever. So he puts his hand on the door, takes in a deep breath, and opens it, a final shift taking place, over his voice, so that it doesn't sound quite so rough.]

Billy...?

[Billy waits a moment, easing himself into it, inching back to reality. He stops his chant - no, no, self-motivated cheer, he can hear his mother's voice in his ear, it's different from chanting, from magic - and breathes in, out, in, out, one more time. Finds that center, the one he'd been seeking since he started. And it still feels... off-kilt, in a way, the axis of his rotation a bit wobbly at the ends, but it's better than before. Much better. He'd been knocked back into orbit.

He just wishes the cost hadn't been so high.

I'll make it better. I have to make it better. Even if all he has to offer is himself, pitiful and broken as he is, he'll keep trying. For Teddy.

And so:]

I'm here.

[His voice is tentative, faint, drenched in regret, and he moves his hands from his knees to twist together in his lap. He has no idea what to expect, no idea what to say. He just knows that he has to work it out somehow. Make it right.]

[Teddy has no idea what to say either, or what to even do. He stands there in the doorway, hand holding the doorknob, body tense, feet frozen because he isn't sure if he wants to walk into the room or not.

What did I do to you? He wants to ask. Why did you do that? Why do you keep breaking the promises we made? Why did you think showing me my dead mom was okay?

...

Am I really so unwanted by you?

He glances to the side, then down at the floor, lips pursed as he pushes those thoughts aside. He has so many questions, and he's not in the mood to want to ask anything else. But he can't possibly ask those... They would upset Billy more, possibly send him right back to the window and staring at nothing.

A pillar, that's what he needs to be. Even if he presents it in a crumbled state, he needs to be something. Something that isn't him.]

... They're gone now?

[Teddy's expression is upsetting, but Billy fights not to let it show on his face. It's probably the first time in a while that he's let himself be sort of honest about how he feels. And Billy can't blame him for feeling that way at all.

I'd be worse. So much worse.

He still doesn't hate me, does he.]

...They're gone. I won't do that again.

[He doesn't promise. He knows better than to promise again. But swallowing back his fear, he leans forward briefly, patting the carpet in front of him, his gaze pleading and expecting a refusal. Still, he has to try.]

Will you sit with me for a minute? Just a minute...

[I won't force you to stay if you don't want to be here.]

[Honestly, a part of Teddy doesn't want to take up that offer. He wants to be out of here, he wants to find Katniss or Mia or whoever and let everything that just happened off of his chest, how he had to watch his mom disappear again.

But as he stands there, he sees Billy's eyes, and even though his thoughts on what they mean conflict, pleading wins out. And - When has this ever happened? Ever since Billy's been possessed, he hasn't asked anything like that before. Sit with him for just a minute...

His better nature and the ever hopeless love he feels takes over his need to get away. So finally, after looking at the spot for a moment, his body relaxes enough to get him to move, not away and towards the door, but to the spot where Billy indicated he should be. There he sits, knees bent and hands on top of them, eyes away for a second before he glances at Billy.

He's here.]

[It’s terrifying, now that Teddy’s sitting down and facing him. He falters; the words escape him, and he shifts in his seat, trying to find that center again. Breathe. In, out. Teddy stayed. Teddy doesn't hate him.

or he does and he’s not saying

In, out. In, out.

He’ll do this anyway, whether he's hated or not. He'll do this because he needs to. Because Teddy deserves it.]

...I’m sorry. And that- I know it doesn't even begin to cover what I just did, doesn't even come close. I don’t know what could do that. I’m afraid to ask.

[I'm afraid of a lot of things these days.

I don't want to be afraid of you.

I don't want you to be afraid of me.]

What I do know is that... I’m done making promises. I keep breaking them, and that’s not fair. It’s just making it worse... for everyone. So I'll stop.

[He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath - in, out, in - his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles have gone white.]

What I'm doing to you... what you're letting me do to you... it's not healthy. It's not fair. I'm hurting you over and over and half the time I don't even...

[His breath catches, and he lifts a hand to cover his mouth, looking up at the ceiling to focus on it instead of Teddy's face, taking a moment to compose himself before he breaks down again. He can't do that, not now. How he feels is nothing compared to how Teddy must be feeling. It's not about him anymore. It's about making things right.

even if you can't

even if you never-

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

just keep trying]

You should- I mean- I should go. Be somewhere else. Somewhere I can't hurt you, or anyone else. I hate this, I hate that I can't control it, I hate...

[I hate me...

I don't want to go...

He shudders, glancing at Teddy once more, and his eyes are so brown.]

Will you walk me to the tunnels?

[I don't want to go.

But it's better than driving you to leave me...]

[For a moment, Teddy wasn't sure what Billy was getting at. It felt like a build-up towards - towards separating, like Billy was going to suggest breaking things off to stop hurting him. It causes him to slowly change posture - from slouching to sitting up straight, fear and anxiety building up in his chest. He can't be, he can't possibly be -

why not, you're not the one he wants

But then the real question comes, and while it doesn't make Teddy relax, it does ease some of the anxiety. He's not asking to leave their relationship or anything... Okay.

That still leaves the problem of the fact that Billy just asked to go to the tunnels, and while that would turn his magic off - it's still the tunnels, dark and lonely and sure to be cold, what with the weather. Both of them are always eager to get out of there when they have to walk through it, so the thought of forcing Billy to stay down there just because he can't control himself right now is - it's not right to Teddy, even if it is a good decision.

He frowns, sets his jaw, and scoots forward a bit to be closer, then reaches out to place his hands against Billy's knees. He can see how much the thought of going down there distresses him (but is it really distress?), and Teddy isn't about to let this happen.]

I will, but only if you let me stay with you until this thing is over. I'm not leaving you, Billy. I promised you that, and I don't plan on breaking it. You know as well as I do that you can't talk me out of staying.

[After a small pause, and a bit of thought, he lets his thumbs stroke as he tilts his head.]

Besides, how are we supposed to tell when it's over down there? I'm not saying it's not a good idea to think of ways to fix this. I just don't agree with you making yourself a prisoner.

Edited 2013-10-30 01:32 (UTC)

[Teddy just keeps on surprising him, one way or another. But for once, in Billy's mind, it's... not in a good way.

but it's what you wanted

His hands tighten again, a tremor passing through his body, and he gnaws gently on his lower lip, eyes darting off to the side. He doesn't understand. He doesn't- he'd given Teddy an out, an escape, a way to be free of the awfulness that's surrounded him the last three weeks, but he still...]

...Why?

[His reply is faint, strained and incredulous. It's not right. It can't be right. Why would anyone...?]

Haven't I done enough to you already?

[Why would you want to risk me doing something worse?]

[Funnily enough, when Teddy had been standing in the doorway, that thought did cross his mind.

Just stop, you've done enough already...

But hearing Billy out, seeing all the emotion in his eyes, which are clearer than he's seen them since this whole mess started, knowing how far he'd go to stop all this... Yes, he's still a little angry, still disturbed from what happened, and he feels like he's on the brink of crying over it again. But that's still no reason to treat the person he loves like a prisoner. And Billy had said so himself, right?

"- and half the time I don't even..."

He leans forward to look Billy in the eyes, his hands moving up to hold him by the elbows instead.]

Did you want to do those things to me?

No... no, no, no, I...

[He bows his head, blinking back tears that are getting harder and harder to fight, half-flinching at the touch- not because he doesn't want it, but because he does, and all of his wants are so harmful these days, and he can't hurt Teddy again, he can't. Touching Teddy could get him hurt, but pulling away... would that be worse?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore.]

I want you to be happy... I want you to smile... I just... I keep doing everything all wrong... that's why I...

[I should stay away. Away from everyone, away from the town, away from you.

Just leave me there. I don't have to come out. I don't deserve to.]

Bad guys belong in prison, Teddy...

You're not a bad guy, Billy. You keep saying it yourself; you're not meaning the things you're doing, all you're trying to do is make things right. It just doesn't go the way you want them to, because there's something in there [He tilts his chin to indicate to his head - ] that's twisting it up.

[And he could easily... easily smile and be happy. Teddy knows what he looks like when he smiles. He knows his mannerisms when he's happy. He could do it, it'd be so easy.

Right now, though, he doubts it'd be any help. It'd just make Billy feel worse, he's sure.]

Billy... I won't be happy if you're in a prison. I sure as hell won't smile. I'll be happy when this is over... and how can you tell it's over when you're in a place that's suppressing everything?

[He does finally let go, if only to lean back and pick at the carpet, a small frown on his face, thinking back to how the weeks have gone by.]

You might not notice it, Billy, but you've been getting better. You've been... you more times than a couple weeks ago. I think you do fight it, even if you don't feel it happening. It's just... sometimes it overwhelms you, right? And you feel like the only way to make it go away is to do something to yourself, too.

[He shuts his eyes and shakes his head.] I don't... think it's that easy. It's something they did to you, when you... when they... [The image pops into his head, the image of Billy slumped forward, the sound of the monitor letting out a long beep, and how he was so, so still... and Teddy tenses in spite of himself.] Y-You can't fight it if you're down there alone. Not if you don't want them to win.

[He makes himself relax, then glances up at Billy again.]

If they made Wanda, or... If they made me go crazy and stay crazy, would you throw me in a prison, even if I didn't want to hurt anyone? Do you think I should be treated like some kind of monster, even though I couldn't help anything I was doing? How would you want me to be treated?

...I...

[God. Oh god, he'd be just as stubborn about it, wouldn't he? He'd fight, he'd argue, he'd protect Teddy as best as he could from anything, anyone that threatened him, even his own mind. He thinks back to all the times he'd stuck by Teddy and supported him through this and that, the way Teddy was supporting him now, and had done so in the past as well. How he'd felt no fear when Teddy touched him in either form, with super-strength, even knowing that Teddy could hurt him with barely a twitch the wrong way. He'd stayed through his identity crisis, and...

...and the death of his mother...

A lump forms in Billy's throat, thick and heavy, and he swallows it with a stricken expression on his face, unable to look Teddy in the eyes anymore. He'd done that. He'd killed her all over again.

And he's still here.]

I'd feel... exactly the same.

[But it isn't you. It's me. It's me and I've done so much already, and I know I have the power left to do so much more... why risk it? Just for me?

Why am I still worth it, to you?

He doesn't dare ask. Not with Teddy looking at him like that.]

...but... then... what should I do...?

First, stop thinking that locking yourself away is the only way to solve this. Second, have a little more faith. In your friends, in yourself... in me. You're not alone in this, and you've gotten further down the road to you than you think. And I think I'm better prepared for whatever might happen, too.

Third... [Teddy reaches out again, this time to take Billy's hands, his eyes on them while they show something like a tinge of sadness.] Don't just assume there's an easy way to solve a problem, or to make someone happy. Sometimes, these things take time. Sometimes it's hard. I know you were used to fixing things with a wave of your hand for a while... but I think you're starting to get that life isn't that easy. Sometimes you can't fix it.

I think if you accept all that... it'll be easier to beat out that thing in your head telling you to do all these things. [He raises his brow, his grip tightening a little.] Okay?

[Billy doesn't answer for a while, his gaze fixated on Teddy's hands around his. Holding him, supporting him. Taking care of him like always.

Sometimes you can't fix it. He wonders, quietly, what that means for him, though he's sure that wasn't Teddy's intent. Maybe he can't be fixed, either. Maybe he can't get better. Maybe all of this is a waste.

...but...

Slowly, hesitantly, he lets his eyes drift upwards, seeking Teddy's once more. He's so sad, but... so determined, too. So strong. After this. After everything. His grip is strong, and his voice, and his words, and...

...and Billy had seen, for the first time in a long while, a hidden fragility there, signs of a wall of strength being chipped away, bit by bit. By him, by what he's become.

That. That... is what he needs to fix. The part of Teddy that he's breaking, a little more every day. And he needs to be strong enough to make it better.

These things take time.

It'll be hard.

...but...

I can fix it, can't I...?

Silently, he adds it to his list. Pushed right to the top, circled, underlined, highlighted. With a footnote. Slowly.

And out loud, he murmurs:]

...Okay.

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[Action, October 25th] tw for suicidal talk I REMEMBERED THIS TIME D:

[Action, October 25th] hnnngh ;~;

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