ʀᴀᴄʜᴇʟ ᴄᴏʜᴇɴ (cohenn) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-04-03 11:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | p: lindsey, p: mena, rachel cohen, sandy jameson |
WHO Rachel Cohen | Sandy Jameson
WHAT Overload
WHEN March 18, after this
WHERE Sandy's room
RATING Low
Talking with Grey had helped a little bit, retreating into the silence of the other woman’s mind for a while was something that had settled her mind for a while but when she’d retracted herself the noise had come back, the low roar of voices and minds from the base. It was like the first time she’d woken up in the Texas facility and couldn’t find any of the Outsiders.
Rachel had told her to meet her in the hologym and Sandy had refused, squished into the corner between her bed and the wall, still curled in a ball but she wasn’t twisting her hands in her hair anymore. She was just resting with her head pressed back against the plaster, eyes closed and trying to focus on her breathing, trying to quieten the world around her. Cassidy used to play a song, she tried to hum it but couldn’t find the tune. She was tempted to reach out to him, she even felt herself beginning to reach out, a psychic tendril stretching across the base and brushing his mind before she caught herself and dragged it back. No. This was her problem. She needed to be able to do this alone.
She felt Rachel’s approach before she heard the knock on the door. She didn’t bother moving, she just stayed where she was and reached out with her mind, telling Rachel [Come in]. She hadn’t asked permission to mind-speak to her Handler, but the thought of using her voice and shouting was a little too intimidating right now. When things had been really bad, right back when she’d first met Calvin, she hadn’t actually spoken aloud for weeks. She’d just spoken mind-to-mind. Calvin had gotten used to it quickly, and for a few months they pretty much communicated like that, without words. It was still her preferred method of communication even now. Since she had come to Limbo, it was a constant, conscious reminder to herself that she had to open her mouth and speak rather than just talk directly to someone.
Non-psychics were confusing to her.
She glanced up when she heard the door opening and she sniffed, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes like that would stop it from looking like she’d been crying and got to her feet, leaning against the wall and desperately trying to smooth her hair down, like it would make her look less like she was physically falling apart as much as she was mentally.
Honestly, Sandy wanted to hold her current state against Rachel, but Rachel didn’t know how much she relied on the others. And it wasn’t Rachel who put Cal into solitary, it was Marshall. So this was Marshall’s fault. And he had the nerve to think he could tell them all what to do? She felt frustration and anger twist in her stomach but she pushed it aside, lifting her eyes to look at Rachel.
“I don’t want to see anyone right now,” she muttered, arms folded defensively across her chest. “And I’m not going into the hologym.” Her head tilted slightly to the side and she took in a shaky breath. Downstairs someone’s thoughts were racing, a whirring anxiety rolling around a mind that was processing information and extrapolating the worst case scenario excruciatingly quickly.
---
“That’s fine,” Rachel replied, holding up her hands in surrender. “I don’t intend to force you to go anywhere right now.”
She understood, on a basic level, Sandy’s frustrations. Being refused access to someone, especially when both parties wanted to be with one another, was an incredibly infantilizing thing. The power dynamics of Regiment were problematic at best, destructive at worst; it forced adults to be treated like children and prison inmates, told where they could go, where they couldn’t, who they could spend time with, and who they couldn’t. And given Sandy’s associations outside the facility, her resistance to certain regulations made a certain amount of sense.
Unfortunately, Rachel wasn’t capable of overturning another Handler’s decision for one of their agents, even if it affected hers. And, to her mind, the dependency among Sandy’s group wasn’t a healthy one.
Sandy looked intensely upset, with red, swollen eyes and wet cheeks. She looked like a cornered, wounded animal; which, essentially, was what this facility turned many Supers into. She’d seen it before, and Sandy would likely not be the last time she saw it, either.
Rachel pulled out a chair and sat down across from Sandy’s bed. “You can sit back down, if you want. I’m just here to talk.”
---
Sandy didn’t speak for a while, just sat down on the bed and grabbed her pillow, hugging it against her chest. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk, either. She just felt like nobody here really cared about anyone’s wellbeing. To some extent, Rachel was lucky that she hadn’t come by earlier. She had been a mess. She still was, to some extent, but her talk with Grey had helped a bit. But it was a balm, just a temporary fix to a long term problem.
And it was noisy again. She lifted her hand and rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm before she pressed her fingers into her temple. She never had learned how to just shut things out; she’d never had to. Calvin had been there for over ten years, now, to help quieten her mind when it was too loud. To help her sleep. Cassidy did, too, but it wasn’t the same. Wasn’t quite as effective.
After it seemed that sitting in silence wasn’t going to make Rachel go away, Sandy drew in a breath and spoke.
“What do you want?”
—-
“Things are going to happen here that you don’t like, that you don’t approve of, or that don’t consider you, and regretfully, Sandy, you won’t be able to do anything about it.”
She spoke firmly, and although there was little that could be considered kind in her tone, her expression suggested what her voice and words could not; even if she knew, in this case, that wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m genuinely sorry that you couldn’t see Calvin, but while you’re conscripted by Regiment, you may not always have access to him. Have you thought about what might happen if--,” she paused, re-oriented her proposed what-if scenario, and concluded, “You two get separated? Sent to different facilities?”
To them both it probably seemed like a far-off, impossible scenario; she even wondered if the two of them believed that, beyond the SEA, they had a chance to get out of here. As if the Wraiths would ever allow that unless legally bound to do so.
Leaning forward, Rachel rested her elbows on her knees and watched Sandy carefully. “You said that Cal helped you. Would you like to try and explain to me how that works, exactly?”
---
“We were separated,” Sandy said darkly, eyes refocusing to look at Rachel. “I nearly lost my mind. I spent two months drugged and in a medical coma.” She wondered how much of that had been in her file; that she’d been unable to control her abilities and she was dangerous without someone to settle her down, that she’d bombarded someone’s mind with everything she was hearing and, apparently, some kind of scream-of-the-damned that would have driven them insane if her limiter hadn’t been triggered. “They brought me here so I’d be with them.”
She shook her head, “If they did that again, whatever happened to me would be on them.”
Her voice did catch; the loneliness, the isolation she’d felt when she’d been away from the Outsiders had been horrific, she’d never felt so alone and so desperate. Even without the bombardment of everyone’s thoughts, she’d hardly slept or eaten and she’d only been separated from them for a short while.
It was tempting - as it always was - to reach into Rachel’s mind and find out what it was that the woman wanted her to say so she would just leave, but Rachel had the keys to the limiter, Rachel could turn it off, make her sleep or make her hurt. She could use that power if she wanted to and Sandy didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be in a position where she was half-out of it again. Didn’t want to feel the icy-cold drugs coursing through her system turning her limbs to lead and pushing her into a blackness that didn’t even come with dreams.
“I don’t know,” she said finally, sulkily. “He helps it be quiet.”
She tilted her head a little, wondering if Rachel would understand better if she knew just what it was like for her. “Stops it all from- b-being t-too much.”
---
Rachel heard it; the passion in Sandy’s voice trailed off into something hollow and distant, so that it was like listening to an echo of someone rather than the voice of someone right in front of her. She hated that, felt an instant revulsion from it. The urge to retreat, as it sometimes presented in Limbo, was intense. She wished that she couldn’t so clearly hear and see Sandy’s loneliness, her bitterness over the medically induced coma they’d kept her in for lack of a better understanding of how to handle her abilities.
“You know that we can turn them off, right? That there are inhibitors that could keep those abilities in check – keep things from being so overwhelming for you? It would help give you some peace, but,” she tilted her head to the side, “it wouldn’t be teaching you anything about how to control or focus your ability, beyond what you’ve already learned.”
She pursed her lips. Stops it all from b-being t-too much.
Clearly, all that could be written into a file wasn’t enough. It didn’t tell the story. It was a piece to Sandy’s puzzle, but it was incomplete.
“Perhaps you need more people,” Rachel suggested. “Who understand what it is you’re going through. Who can help you, the way that your friend helps you. Would you like to demonstrate?”
She sat up straighter. Her expression was open; earnest. She wasn’t sure that Sandy would take her up on it, but maybe, maybe, it would be a good start to help to build more trust between them. Maybe it would allow Rachel to understand a little bit better.
---
“They tried to get other psychics to help me,” Sandy murmured, wrapping her arms around her legs as she tugged them to her chest. “But they can’t get in my head. I-” she wet her lower lip, “I’ve been with Cal for more than ten years I don’t-”
She didn’t know how to function without them. But she didn’t want to say that out loud. It was none of Rachel’s business anyway, Sandy’s past. Her history. The fact that no one else cared about them the way they cared about each other. How no one else understood what it was like, how they’d been treated when they were starving kids needing someone to look after them only to be chased away, turned away at every turn. Eventually, they’d stopped asking for help. And she’d stopped hoping that her father would ever come back for her. So she made her own family, and then in here it seemed like her family were drifting apart, splitting right down the middle. And she was stuck, flailing for stability that she’d never really had anyway.
She cut her eyes to Rachel for a moment, suspicion clear on her face. Rachel had to know about three of her abilities - the other one, the most dangerous one, had never been exhibited so she was hoping they didn’t know about it. But Rachel had to know that was something she could do. Why would she want to do that?
“Wh-” She stopped herself from asking why. Instead she just lifted a shoulder. The handler had asked for a demonstration. So a demonstration she would get.
The younger woman winced as she dropped the tiniest of shields she had, letting her mind be flooded with the minds of everyone on the base and those in the vehicles that passed in the distance. The actual range of her telepathy was far further than had been assumed by the Regiment. Her eyes were closed, but in a split second they opened again and all of that noise, deafeningly loud like the roaring of a waterfall, words and snippets of conversations, everything that Sandy was bombarded with on a daily basis suddenly were pushed onto Rachel, Sandy’s ability to override someone’s auditory faculties kicking in and, in part, demonstrating exactly why her code name was Override.
--
Rachel thought she was prepared. She steeled herself, the way she had in combat training, bracing for a physical blow and preparing for the radiating pain that resulted. That wasn’t what happened.
It was like being in a crowded room full of people screaming. Rachel heard voices she could recognize – some that made her feel a flash of tenderness, others that made her tense – but it became impossible to focus on. They were drowned out in the mass. All the voices talking at once, a flood of mental images from too many sources so that they blurred together into a visual nightmare that made no sense.
It went beyond the facility, which was the most surprising part; they had all been woefully incorrect about the extent of Sandy’s abilities.
She didn’t have time to be shocked or frustrated by that new tidbit of information; Rachel’s mind was being overloaded by noise that she couldn’t block out even when she covered her ears.
Doubling over in the chair, Rachel began breathing heavily, unable to draw one, full breath.
---
[This is what it’s like without Cal.] Sandy’s voice spoke directly into Rachel’s mind, above the noise inundating her ears. Rachel didn’t look like she was coping very well, and even though it had been perhaps a minute or two at the full volume, Sandy knew enough was enough.
It was hard to concentrate for her, but as she flexed her fingers and breathed out, she slowly lowered the volume for Rachel, turning it down from a hundred percent to forty. The roar became a shout, it was still loud - unnervingly so - but significantly less than before.
She closed her eyes, feeling the strain on her, [And this is what it’s like with Cassidy or Alejandro.]
After another few moments, she lowered it by half again. This time it was a much more manageable volume, or at least compared to the first inundation.
[And this is with Cal’s help.].
---
The lessening of the volume allowed Rachel to finally catch her breath. Her breathing was labored, but she was pulling herself together. Tears had welled in her eyes from the sudden onslaught of noise that was suddenly receding—not gone, but much less overwhelming. From a maddening roar, the noise became a shout; not pleasant by any means, but better than before.
And this is what it’s like with Cassidy or Alejandro.
Rachel winced and pressed her fingers to her temples, all the while doing her very best to concentrate on Sandy’s voice, which was much clearer above all the rest. That noise lasted for a while longer, during which time Rachel could do nothing but sit in it and let it wash over her. If something like this were a constant – she’d never be able to get anything done.
And this is with Cal’s help.
This time, it was nothing – not silence, but compared to the previous two times, it was like being in a room with a bunch of white noise conversation happening around her. That she could handle.
A tear had squeezed its way out of the corner of her eye and Rachel hastily brushed it aside.
“If you want to be able to get by here, or anywhere, you’re going to be able to rely on more than one other person to help quiet all of that, Sandy.” She didn’t want to say it, but the possibility would always exist; what would happen if her friend passed away? Impossible as it seemed, Sandy was going to have to learn to rely on other voices and individuals.
---
It didn’t need to be said, the thought floated into Sandy’s mind - what would happen if he died? - and the thought took her breath away. She instantly retreated from Rachel’s mind, abruptly dropping and withdrawing all of her powers, pulling everything back into herself. Her own eyes were watering, her head feeling like it might explode and the first tell-tale sign of a bleeding nose in the trickle of blood that escaped. She caught it quickly, brushing her hand under her nose, smearing blood over her index finger as she did.
If Cal died… she might die too. She had no idea what would happen, she’d never considered it before, never thought about what would happen because he was strong. He was the one who had pulled them together, protected them, found them somewhere to sleep. She knew he wasn’t invincible, she knew that, but he might as well have been in her mind.
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t take him away from me,” she pointed out, because as much as someone else might understand that it was unhealthy, Sandy genuinely didn’t. She re-wrapped her arms around her knees and tugged them close, resting her chin atop them and digging her fingers into her arms, trying to drown out the noise. “No one else is the same. I have Cassidy and Alejandro. It’s not the same.”
---
As soon as she saw Sandy getting upset, wiping her bloodied nose and hugging her knees, Rachel forced herself to get out of the chair. She approached the desk by Sandy’s bedside, swiped a tissue, and handed it to the young girl curled on her bed.
Then, feeling much more exhausted than she had any right to feel, she slumped back into the chair and fought to remain upright, back straight.
“That’s not how it works, Sandy,” Rachel rubbed her temples. “He broke the rules. His Handler handled the situation how he felt best. As unfortunate as it is, especially given how he can help you, nobody has to make decisions about Cal with you in mind.”
Rachel furrowed her brow, considering for a moment. “You say it’s not the same with Cassidy and Alejandro. What’s the difference, in your approximation? What makes Cal more effective than the other two individuals?”
---
Sandy took the tissue but didn’t say thank you. She just wiped her nose with it and sniffed. She was tired and her head hurt and she wanted to go to sleep but she couldn’t. She’d drag herself to Alejandro after this and sleep in his room, curled up in his arms and under the protection of his wings: he wouldn’t be too busy for her, she knew that he’d always be there if she needed him, at least for this.
“So you’re saying you handlers only care about the agents you’re paid to care about?” she asked, too sore to be as biting as she might have normally been, but that was certainly what it seemed like: do what they think is right, damn the consequences? “And so what? He knocked a tray out of someone’s hands. The other guy attacked him and threw him across the cafeteria. Is he in solitary, too?”
Rubbing her temples, not liking this avenue of questioning that she couldn’t answer, she looked as frustrated as she felt. She was sure she knew the answer, but it was something she didn’t really want to share. She thought it was different for Cal because he’d found her first, because a corner of his mind was quite literally hers, carved out from years and years of sitting in there and taking solace, and she constantly felt like she was at least a little bit connected to it. And not having it right now, having Cal disconnected from her had thrown her carefully ordered world into chaos. Just like in Texas, only this time she hadn’t lashed out at anyone.
She was quiet for a long time, quite obviously fighting an internal war about what she should and shouldn’t disclose. In the end, after almost fifteen minutes had passed, she spoke again. Her voice was soft, and the information was quite obviously being shared reluctantly.
“He found me,” she said finally, knowing that none of this was in her file. Her file said she was a terrorist. That she and the others had been arrested for terrorist activities. That they were dangerous.
---
“I already told you that what happened to the other individual is not your business, Sandy,” Rachel said this pointedly, firmly. “And no, that’s not what I’m saying. What I am saying is that you are two independent individuals. Regardless of how close you are, or what his presence is able to provide for you – you may not always be able to rely on his availability to meet those needs.”
Frankly, their co-dependence was alarming; and knowing what Sandy relied on him for, and how intense that need was, made Rachel worried. She had come up against Supers who were damaged, who had been kicked down by life so often that the damage was nearly irreparable. But it had never mattered how worn out she felt, or how beaten down she became; Rachel rarely gave up on them. And Sandy – Rachel wanted her to improve. Sandy would never see this place as a good thing, and might never fully trust her, but she wanted to help Sandy build a chance to have a life that she could live on her own two feet, where her relationships didn’t have traces of desperate reliance – but were those bonds of pure love could flourish, independently and together.
Rachel leaned back in her seat. It was taking a little too much effort, even with a clearer mind, to maintain her rigid presentation. She didn’t push; Sandy looked like she was fighting an inner battle, probably wanting to avoid sharing too much. Or else she was just struggling not to tell Rachel to piss off.
It wouldn’t have surprised her.
He found me.
Rachel inhaled. Slowly, she nodded. “No wonder he’s so special to you,” Rachel replied, her voice gentler than it had been before. “And that’s a good thing; honestly, Sandy. You love your friends quite fiercely, and that’s good. You’re lucky to have them, and they are lucky to have you. However…,”
She weighed how best to say it. Finally, she finished, “But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for others.”
---
Sandy didn’t answer for a little while again, just mulling over what Rachel was saying. There was a degree of vulnerability right now in her that she didn’t like, she kept the protective, defensive posture of her knees against her chest but she also was understanding that she was talking to Rachel and nothing bad was happening. She peeked into Rachel’s head briefly and heard nothing but concern, thoughts about wanting to help. But she retreated before she heard anything else.
“Never said there wasn’t room for anyone else,” she grumbled, but it was true. The Outsiders stuck together, family first. Destroy any threats. Calvin had had such an impact on her personality, as well, a scrappy thirteen year old and an equally scrappy almost ten year old behind him just surviving with whatever they could get their hands on. “But he was the first. Everyone else ignored me when I asked for help. Not him.” It was then she’d learned that adults couldn’t be trusted; it was compounded further when CPS tried that one time to separate them, said she’d be put somewhere away from Cal because he wasn’t really her brother so it didn’t count.
Such a scary terrorist, she was, curled up on her bed.
“I-”
Other than an argument she knew didn’t hold up, Sandy didn’t really have anything to say that effectively countered Rachel’s argument. She knew it. But.. her answer was that she just didn’t want to reach outside of her family. No one else could be trusted, Alejandro - like Cal - had taught her that.
“I just don’t want anyone else.” Because what if her friends found someone else and then replaced her? She’d be alone again. Alone and then she’d go mad, like her mom.
---
I just don’t want anyone else.
“Fair enough.”
That, at least, was something Rachel could get. Being afraid of letting go, even just a little bit, and of the changes that would inevitably develop. But Sandy didn’t seem to be able to grasp that things would naturally develop, change, regardless of how hard she struggled to maintain her grip on familiarity.
Once again, Rachel leaned forward and settled her even gaze on Sandy’s face. Her expression was calm, even with the vein in her temple still throbbing from being inundated with hundreds of peoples thoughts, and she managed to offer a small smile.
“But I think you ought to keep in mind that want and need are very, very different things. And you’re going to need to rely on more people than Calvin, Alejandro, and Cassidy, at least some day.”
Rachel slowly got up to her feet. “I’m going to give you some time to yourself, but I’ll be available if you need to talk. I’ll keep you updated on Cal’s situation, in the meantime.”
---
When it became apparent that she was going to be left alone, Sandy unfurled and shuffled further up the bed. She’d maybe just lie down here for a bit and then go and find Wings.
Yeah. That was a good plan.
“Ok,” she mumbled, “‘m gonna rest now.”
Without even taking her shoes off, she disappeared under the sheets and curled up in the foetal position, waiting until she hear the door click before reaching out to Wings to make sure he was free, definitely not thinking about Rachel’s advice.
Definitely not.