selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

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[IC] Appointments Post

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[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.

[I don't want to, he wants to say. I don't want to do this, I just want to forget.

That's the lousy part about your own head, though, isn't it? You forget too much good. It's the bad that sticks the most.

Her voice is soothing, though, and after an extended moment he pauses long enough to let his hand settle. After that he finishes the sketch with a little less trouble. It's not a complete recovery, but it's a step in the right direction.]

What have you drawn?

...a lot of things. I write more than I draw, though.

[She looks away from Billy and takes a deep breath.]

Flames. I had to burn his body, you know.

[...the smell of it. She'd been sick for what felt like forever once she got back to camp.]

You had to burn... what...?

[He's almost afraid to ask. She doesn't mean...]

[A helpless, dry little sound that might have been an attempt at a laugh.]

Couldn't just -- leave it there. Not like that. [She takes a breath that shudders all the way through her.] Especially with all that horrible magic around.

[Oh god. Oh god. That's beyond screwed up.]

Oh, man... I...

[Sorry doesn't even cover it. He bites his lip and falls silent; he's sorry he asked, now.]

[She swallows. The silence stretches on maybe a little too long.]

Couldn't see any way around it. [A slow exhale. She looks at Billy.] Like I said. It was hard for all of us. An' when they get back... it'll be like startin' again all over.

I... hope that's true. It'll be good to see him again, that's for sure. I think he'll feel the same way.

[It's just a matter of waiting for that to happen, which is seriously a bitch and a half.]

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