selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

[Rogue pauses, giving him a direct look. She doesn't move further.]

That bad?

...Pretty bad, yeah.

[He doesn't even have the energy to try lying about it. Maybe he's hoping he isn't the only one- but that's a bit of a dick thought, isn't it?]

[Rogue sank slowly back down into her seat.]

Tell me.

[Billy bites his lip, torn between misery and embarrassment for having been affected this badly. She's the first person that he's spoken to who was there - only Teddy knew, and he'd been with the reinforcements - so he has no way of knowing that he's not the only one.]

Back when we... died... that shift? When the bomb went off... there was that empty feeling for a while. Like I'd been eaten, like I was trapped in some big black stomach and it was full of eyes, watching me. I thought it would just be that one time, that it was the shift itself, but now that we're back... I keep dreaming about it. I feel like it's happening again, over and over. And even when I wake up, I can still feel it...

[...she'd wondered if that was just her or not.]

You're not the only one feelin' that way. [Her voice is quiet.] But we're not still back there. We're not dead.

I keep telling myself that. It helps, a little. I just wish it helped more.

[He wraps his arms across his chest, hugging himself awkwardly.]

Is this the penalty we get? Because we died, and didn't lose anything? I keep wondering what would be worse.

...we didn't get a penalty 'cause we didn't come back the normal way, Billy. 'cause we didn't die the normal way.

[She ran gloved hands through her hair, trying to ground herself.]

There ain't no exact science to time travel, as near as I can see. Maybe those feelings are just -- hiccups. We're still comin' all the way through.

[Billy laughs at that, briefly and somewhat bitterly. If shifts quickly into a grimace.]

Why do movies make time travel into something really cool or useful? This is my second time dealing with the after-effects, and they're just as crap this time as they were the last. If I go my whole life without another time travel situation I'll die the most grateful man alive.

I don't know. [She speaks slowly, and somehow manages to look smaller - like she's hunching defensively without actually moving.] I can't say I like the after-effects, but I like it better than bein' stuck there. If that was really what bein' sacrificed is like... there's no comin' back from that. And that wasn't a place I'd wanna stay.

...Yeah... yeah. No argument here. As scared of dying as I am, that... that was worse. It was like we existed just to be nothing. If that even makes sense.

[He's pretty sure it doesn't. The whole situation sucks, either way. He's never felt so lost in his life.]

I'm pretty sure I don't wanna think about it that long. What it was - what it was was bad. But what it is is over now. Gotta hold onto that - make a point of holdin' onto it. Or else it'll just sweep us all away.

That's... what I'm trying to do. I'm sure it's what all of us are trying to do. It'll just take a while.

[For some more than others; of that he has no doubts. And he's never been very good at dealing with such things.]

[Rogue rubs the back of her neck with a gloved hand.

Awkward. She's terrible at this.]

You... findin' a way to get it out?

[That makes them two of a kind, apparently.]

I wish. Magic's not doing it. Sleeping it off doesn't work. Meditation is a bust. I hear the next step is drugs and alcohol. Mom would be so proud.

[Goddammit, why did he say that? Now he feels even worse.]

...Sorry. If I figure out a way, I'll let you know.

[Her lips firm slightly.] S'okay.

[Rogue gets up and prowls around the room, looking for something in particular -- there! That looks like a blank book/notebook/sketchbook thing. Good. Rogue picks it up.]

You draw, right?

[Carrying the book, she approaches Billy again and hands it out to him.]

Go ahead, take it.

[He hesitates briefly, then accepts it, his expression surprised and unsure.]

You think I should draw?

[What, art therapy? H...uh. It's not one he'd thought of before.]

Draw it. Write it. Make paper machce of it. Just get it out of your head.

[Rogue moves to sit across from him again. Apparently she is going to sit there and wait until Billy does something. She rubs her hands together, glances down at them, and then continues.]

I must've filled up and burned two notebooks already. You don't need to keep it. You just need to get it out. Put it someplace else so that you're in control of it, so that you can see it more clearly.

[What, you think Rogue hasn't been subjected to therapy herself?]

[Billy makes a soft humming noise at that, looking more thoughtful now, instead. Finally he digs a pencil out of a drawer in the side table, drums it against the page, and starts to doodle random shapes to start.]

I hadn't really thought to try it before, but... worth a shot. Maybe something good'll actually come out of it.

It's somethin' you can do by yourself when you can't sleep.

[Not that she's talking from experience or anything.]

But if you want, I'll sit right here until ya get somethin' down.

Mm.

[He continues with his random doodles for a long moment, considering the words, then stops, glancing up.]

Would it bother you if I did your portrait? I'm better with people.

[Rogue is sure that she looks like several layers of hell warmed over and is vain enough for that to matter and tired enough not to care.]

I don't mind if that'll get you started, but the important part is gettin' what's in here [she taps at her temple] down on there.

[He's at least sort of good at conveying how people can look rather than how they do at the time... sort of? It's the comic book style, no one looks like crap in comics.

That makes him pause, though, in the middle of a profile. Then he continues sketching, though his lips are drawn in a tight line.]

I'm not even sure how to visualize it properly. Just this... big black space in the page. A person drowning in nothing. How do you draw nothing?

[She shivers a little at his description. It's barely noticeable.]

You try. [Nope, no wiggling out of it, bub.] You put what you feel down on the paper, if you can't draw nothing. Try anyway.

[He stops drawing for a long moment, staring down at the page. He can't draw this. It's pretty; she's pretty, so of course he had to draw her that way. But nothing that he feels right now is pretty, or pleasant, or fun. He's not fooling anyone, least of all himself.

Finally he turns the page, moving on from the half-finished portrait, and starts a few silhouette- a body in the midst of black, vague and featureless except for an open, screaming mouth.

...Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, either. He's starting to tremble, hand jerking against the page and smudging the lead.]

[She can see him flip the page and then see the beginning of his trembling. She debates going to sit beside him, but it's touchy, because she wants to give him the privacy of his drawing. But he needs to know that he's in a safe place now. He can do this. He can face it. He can take control.]

It's all right. [Her voice is low and soothing.] You can do this. I'm right here. You can do this.

[IC] Appointments Post

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action