Patrick Clark | Patroclus (borrowed_armor) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2010-11-29 05:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | achilles, patroclus |
Who: Achilles and Patroclus
What: Achilles goes to see his friend for an apology. (Originally posted by Achilles)
When: Monday afternoon
Where: Hospital Patroclus is at
Achilles was still making amends with himself before he had the strength to ask for his pardons. Most of the marks that Hades' brood had left on his skin were covered with his clothes. The bruise on his cheek from Zeus was more visible now the morning after as was the raw skin around his neck and wrists from the chains. There was no concealing it than with a scarf, but there was almost a reminder to himself of those who had no reason to pay him any sort of consolation after the things he'd done.
Hands shoved in his pockets, Achilles walked in keeping his head up even when he was so visibly wracked with guilt. He'd wept that night when there was a sure sign no one could see. His body was tired, weak and broken, but nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He ran into the nurse who was on her way out of Patroclus room as he approached. She seemed alarmed at his appearance insisting she address his own wounds before he headed into the room. Without the venomous tongue he'd had before, he declined. What were these wounds than what he'd put those he loved through?
At that he approached Patroclus, the second time he'd come to this hospital, this time as empty-handed as before. The look of tension on his friends face was enough to make him sick.
And there was indeed tension on Patroclus' face. When Achilles entered his room, Patroclus let out a terrified whimper and he tried to scrambled away from the man, despite being told that Achilles had been helped.
He would believe it when he saw it.
Patroclus wanted to beg Achilles not to hurt him, but he didn't have begging in him, nor could he speak all that well. So he simply stared at Achilles, his expression doing his begging for him.
Achilles closed the door behind him, sure that the action alone would cause Patroclus to panic, he could see that much now in the way he twisted and turned to move.
The blonde looked down at him with agony twisting inside, like being gutted and having to watch each organ being pulled out of his system. His hand reached out to sit on the end of Patroclus' bed, an uncontrollable shake that wouldn't disappear. He couldn't meet his eyes and so turned his back looking out the window. The sun was already starting to go down, leaving a dusky gray sky amidst the street lamps in the parking lot.
There was only one time Achilles had broke down in front of his Lieutenant, and Patroclus had been nothing more than a spirit. Achilles hands closed into fists against the windowsill, forming the words in his head before he spoke.
After a long break of silence he stood there, looking out the window.
"There was a time I told a man to throw down his arrogance and pay his homage to the gods. Do you remember?" It had been during Troy, their first life. "Agamemnon had just taken Chryses, causing a violent plague from the sun god. I told him to stand down and he refused unless I gave him compensation." Achilles continued to look out that window, hoping that somewhere in this story, Patroclus understood his reasons.
"That was the start of my downfall." He'd held himself up with such valor then, such honor and proved to be the better man than their rotten King. "I am no better than that King, only my greed and lust was for the promise of glory."
He finally turned away from the window then taking a seat in the chair at Patroclus' bedside. His hands tightened together angry that he had let himself fall so hard and for what? To prove to him that he was nothing more than a pawn for the powers above them all, even if they all reigned immortal. He didn't expect Patroclus to forgive him, in fact he wasn't even asking for it, he just needed to give his apologies for his own peace of mind. "You've only upheld my honor, defended me, trusted me and I've broken that." His voice was shaky.
"I'm sorry," though those words were little in comparison to the damage already done.
If Patroclus hadn't heard from Briseis who had heard it from the Sky King himself, Pat probably would have assumed Achilles was trying another, albeit more subtle, way to get Patroclus to tell him where Briseis was.
And now, even though he believed Achilles had been rid of the possession by Hybris, Patroclus wasn't going to tell him where Bri was. He was, however, going to reach out and place his hand on Achilles' knee.
He was still afraid. It was likely he would flinch for a while yet whenever Achilles showcased his temper. If he showcased it at all. There was a chance that Patroclus would have a moment of panic when Achilles walked into a room for months, though that would quickly pass. He would have nightmares of his friend breaking his bones and smiling, and then coming back to torture him and the nightmares would go on for years. But none of it mattered.
Just the other day, Patroclus had watched the Erinyes take his best friend away. And no matter what Achilles had done, Patroclus had mourned for him. And now here Achilles was. Bruised and scarred and broken down, but here.
And since Patroclus' own belief had always been that he was a loyal companion to Achilles, he now embodied loyalty. He was loyal to Briseis, to his Gods and as ever, to his General. And so when Achilles reached out, Patroclus would reach back. He would not say it was okay, and he would not tell Achilles that he didn't have a long journey ahead of him to right the wrongs he had done. But Patroclus had already forgiven his general. It was never Patroclus' pardon Achilles would have to grovel for.
"Achilles," Patroclus tried to say around his wired jaw. "Stay."
Achilles still refused to meet Patroclus' eyes, the very idea of the pain he'd inflicted on his friend, brother in arms was disgusting. He took a deep breath and then exhaling. He wasn't angry at Patroclus, he was angry with himself.
His jaw clenched against his cheek, teeth grinding while he focused on taming that tremor to his hands. There were many he'd have to ask repentance from, including his mother. He'd undoubtedly disappointed her.
The fact that Patroclus had even offered a hand was enough to make the broken warrior fall even deeper into the regret. The tighter he gritted his teeth, the more his eyes stung.
"I can't..." he said in a whisper. To know that he'd single-handedly ripped his friend apart, the same man he'd defied the gods and killed Hector over, it was a little too much.
Achilles didn't want to look at him, and Patroclus didn't really blame him for that. But Patroclus didn't want his friend to leave. "Please stay," Patroclus said more softly.
He patted Achilles knee, trying to get Achilles to hand him the notebook so he could write. He had things he wanted to say. "Hurts to talk," Patroclus said, pointing at the pad of paper and pen.
He wanted to walk out so not to show how his strength was not enough to keep him from falling apart right in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath before turning to hand Patroclus the pad of paper. It was then that he looked at him, and he felt the water line his eyes, though those tears did not fall.
It hurt too much to see him like this. He'd disowned his own son for doing the same thing, and here he'd near sent Patroclus to his death a second time.
Patroclus watched Achilles for a moment, seeing the tears rise to his cousin's eyes. He wanted to say something, but instead he did not.
He had much to say, but of course the first thing he would think of, was to set his cousin's mind at ease over the reason Achilles had attacked him in the first place.
Achilles, Bri and I are living togethur but it is not romantik. I am there to protect her. I'm sorry we didn't tell you.
Those sharp pains hit his head again, like a hammer to his skull. Elbows rested on his knees, Achilles rubbed his temples as Patroclus jotted down on the paper.
If Achilles had been in his right mind at the time he would have been furious that they had failed to tell him, but he would not have let his cousin bleed on the floor.
"I hurt her?" he spoke, shaking his head to the explanation. He didn't need it now, that wasn't what bothered him now. Something so trivial had set him off, and now all he could think was what if he had hurt Briseis in a way he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for. He didn't remember ever finding her, but the mad rush of thoughts to his head were enough to make anyone feel a little crazy. It wore him out.
"No!," Patroclus said, and he started writing again.
She feels alone and scared after what happined to David. I have my own room. She's like my sister, Achilles. That's all. And I'm sorry people twisted the truth and told you lies about us.
Patroclus gave Achilles a worried look before he wrote more.
Cousin, I know you were not yorself. I forgiv you. I still need time to trust you though.
He was using that as a way to say he still wasn't going to tell Achilles where Briseis was.
"If you don't feel it right to trust me Patroclus, I won't hold that against you." Something about Zeus' threat had humbled the fiery warrior. Seeing it slammed in his face had forced him to finally listen to what his own hybris could do. Hybris herself had only fed off what made him the force he was. She twisted his passion into something unrecognizable.
His head sunk further into his hands until the headache subsided. It wasn't like any normal pain, it was unmistakably worse.
"I fought her, god help me Patroclus I fought her," he admitted. He stopped, though there was more he needed to admit to clear his conscious. "I wanted it though. A part of me desired that kind of power more than anything." It consumed him, that thirst for glory. He couldn't explain it, but it would always be there.
Patroclus wished he could speak more than a few words without it hurting his entire face. Achilles was talking to him. Really talking, and Patroclus had been rendered unable to respond in a way he wanted to. He knew he couldn't spell without a spell-checker and his arm hurt too much to write long and lofty sentences.
It wasn't surprising that Achilles had fallen victim to it. Of course he thirsted for glory. Patroclus did too, but he had gotten away from most of that thanks to more modern beliefs. It was not difficult to see that Achilles would have been influenced even more towards being the lofty and powerful man people saw him as.
I am glad you fawt, Cousin. I am sorry we took so long to notiss notice. It will be OK, Achilles. We will make this OK.
Achilles' lust for glory would always win out. Where other men may have been able to turn head and walk away, Achilles only wanted it more. It was almost a loosing battle each time, climbing higher, achieving it, only to fall. He would always fall because pride would get in the way, because belief would keep holding him as some chivalrous figure of war. One man looked up to.
It was the reason the flame inside was so strong, burning bright, making him ache inside. Briseis, Patroclus, even the love of his mother could not cure that.
Achilles shook his head. "This isn't your fault, Patroclus. I'm a glutton for that which I desire the most, and it's my own pride." Perhaps he had finally learned this time, and escaped death yet a third time.
Zeus may have been lenient on him, but Achilles was giving himself the punishment.
Patroclus nodded and then, when he felt it was the right time to do so, he pulled the paper back to him and he wrote:
I'm going to be fine, by the way. You didn't ask, but I felt I should say. I have to eat an all liqwid diet, but Demeter helped me so I feel full now. And I can walk and every thing.
Achilles hadn't asked and at Patroclus new written word he felt his eyes look around in concern. How could he not ask? Maybe he hadn't wanted to know because then it only proved how far he'd gone to destroy someone that was dear to him.
He simply nodded his head in agreement, feeling his fingers curl against the fabric of his jeans.
"I...." he started, his words caught in his throat. "Know I would never have done this had..." he shook his head back and forth. Had he been in his right mind, Patroclus would never have been in this situation.
"When do they release you?" his voice was merely a whisper.
I do know, Patroclus wrote. It didn't necessarily make him feel better yet, but it would. I know it was her but you let her in and you can't do it again. I don't know when I get out. It hurts to walk around becaus of my ribs.
Anger swelled inside, his fist curled and he stood up pacing the room as if to let the agitation subside. It was difficult for him to be here now, to discuss why he'd let her in.
Achilles threw his coat off, running a hand against the burn on his neck, shaking off the urge to punch the wall and break a few fingers. What could he do for Patroclus now?
"What can I do?" he asked rather helplessly, a tone Achilles did not use often.
What could Achilles do? Patroclus didn't know where to start. Or maybe he did.
Pay tributte to Demeter. Give her all the worship you can. She is doing me such a favor. And she deserves your respekt as well as mine.