Characters: Phantom and Onslaught Location: his room Time: evening, a few days ago Summary: many feels of sadness Status: Complete Warnings: language
Meredith was still dead. The mission was over, the rescue had happened, there was a lot of bullshit happening. A whole shit storm that she didn’t want to be part of at all. She wanted to forget this mission ever happened. For the first time in what felt like forever, she’d actually been scared. Meredith didn’t like feeling scared. She was perfectly good with her general apathy toward life and everything in it. This time, though, things had been different.
She’d seen Onslaught go down, and that had not been happy fun times in a way that she was very fiercely ignoring in her own head. Her team, while maybe there wasn’t a lot of love lost there, she’d had to watch go down too, while she hadn’t been able to do much to stop it. Her powers had been dampened too, so the hits she’d landed hadn’t done much. Definitely not what they were supposed to. It basically spelled out for her just how fucking useless she could really be, without having a physical form.
She’d managed to alert the base, to pinpoint their location, so she’d helped that way but it still all felt too little too late. Not enough. Feeling inadequate wasn’t really high up on Meredith’s favorite emotions either.
Of course there was the last part, too. The part where, because things were dampened, she hadn’t actually come back right away. She was used to the transition being quick. Her heart stopped, the lights went out and she barely missed a beat as her spirit screamed out of her body. This time, though. This time, she knew she’d lost time. It wasn’t a blink. The transition had been slow, like trying to swim through jello. When she finally was ‘there’ again, she was disoriented. Far more so than usual. Because it was like she’d blinked out of existence for a few minutes.
Meredith had no idea how to deal with that at all. It loomed over her mind heavily, and she just didn’t know.
She did find herself floating the halls, trailing the ink from the gunshot wound in her chest behind her, not really giving much of a shit who she spooked as she passed. She didn’t realize she was looking for him until she found him and stopped moving. He was in his room, and she moved through the cracked door and wall into the space.
The mission was a complete and utter disaster, and it was a miracle that Echo had somehow managed to get the upperhand. They were all well prepared, more so than Alpha. Adrián took the loss pretty heavily. He had not stepped outside of his room after they had all been brought back, and cleared by the medical doctor’s in the facility. He had not gone to eat, nor did he seek refuge within the Inferno or Wet Floor.
Sleep seemed pointless, and every time his eyelids did flutter closed he got vivid flashbacks of the botched mission. He could still see Meredith’s face the exact moment the bullet ripped through her. The look of shock and pain still hit him like a brick wall. He didn’t want to blame himself, but felt the weight of it on his shoulders. That did not bode well with him at all. He was alone in his room when Meredith phased through the door. Elizabeth, his roommate, was nowhere to be seen, but he couldn’t care any less as to where she was romping around. In fact, he didn’t want to care much about anything. Embarrassment was an understatement.
Adrián was just exiting the bathroom when he saw her come in. The look of disapproval washed over his face, and hazel eyes diverted elsewhere. He was trying to ignore the pang of guilt that gripped his chest tightly. She was obviously not corporeal yet, and for some reason that worried him.
“I’m not dead,” he said bitterly.
Meredith interpreted the clear nasty look he gave her as blame for things going sideways. She knew she'd kind of fucked up there. Not that it had mattered, her death was going to happen one way or another, but she'd distracted him. She knew she'd distracted him, and that was...well. Unprofessional wasn't quite the word but it was the closest she could get. She looked away, her form wavering for a moment, the black inky 'blood' from her gaping chest wound drifting up and obscuring her features for a moment before she moved. God dammit why didn't they have windows in this place?
I'm sorry, she signed to him. He was one of the only people she could communicate with when there weren't speakers around for her to talk through. She appreciated that on a level she didn't look too closely at. I know I fucked up. This was weird for her on a number of levels, not the least of which was she was apologizing at all. Meredith was pretty great at alienating people and being wholly unrepentant for it. But here she was, saying she was sorry – and worse, she meant it.
He wanted to blame her. It would have been easy to do so. The look on her face said it all, even if her ghostly appearance had been wavering. She was intangible, and her body drifted in and out of this plane of existence.
“You didn’t fuck up,” he not only made his lips visible for her to perhaps read, but his hands rose from his sides to use his fingers to sign the words that had come out of his mouth. Adrián thought it wise to learn American Sign Language so they could all communicate even if there was nothing for Meredith to electronically filter through. No, he didn’t have to do this, and if anyone asked, he’d say it was strictly for the purpose of missions. He would never admit to doing something nice for someone, that would mean admitting caring.
“The whole thing was fucked from the start,” he continued on, his hands continued to sign as he spoke.
Meredith rolled her eyes and gave him a Look. I know it was, that doesn't mean that I didn't fuck up myself. You know it, I know it. Let's just agree that I really fucked the dog on this one and next time, we'll just...I don't know. Kill me before we get there, just in case I decide to get stupid again. She did understand that not everything was her fault, and she wasn't trying to claim blame there. But she was claiming blame for things going sideways for him.
She moved a little more around the room, spreading the cold out. If she stayed in one spot too long, things would start to get a sheen of frost. She dropped the temperature and while the room wasn't that big, she sort of didn't want to make one part of it uninhabitable for him. She decided to go drift toward Gemini's area, because she wasn't here so fuck her. Miss badass blonde perfection. Just that thought made her aware that something was weird there, though she didn't know what. The eye roll she wanted to do would pop her eyes right out of her head. What was with her?
The temperature did in fact drastically plumet whenever her noncorporeal form lingered around, but it never bothered him. His body had a way of regulating its internal temperature, and made it so that he was able to deal with the elements. Hazel eyes followed her as best as he could. She seemed to flicker like static on a television screen.
He had reached out just then in an attempt to reassure her. He really didn’t know why, but it felt mostly like a natural reaction. Only his hand never touched her shoulder, and only felt the icy grip of death on his fingertips. Slowly he pulled his hand back, and rested it atop of his head for a second or two. The words weren’t coming to him as quickly as they usually did. He was quiet, but more perceptive than usual.
“What’s keeping you from going back to your body,” finally he asked, removing his hand from his head to sign.
That was right, they didn't usually hang out like this or anything, so why would he know exactly how it worked? I haven't healed up yet. The gunshot was more trauma than you usually do, she explained in sign. It blew part of my heart out. All over you, if I'm remembering right. But really the lights had gone out so fast after that that she didn't even know. And then there was the part where she hadn't come back right away, and it was her turn to look away.
She tried to move them on, around that particular fact. So, yeah. I might be dead for a little while longer, while I heal up. And I guess I could go hang in the morgue with my corpse, but...why? I'm sure Reaper's down there doing creepy shit to it anyway. I don't really want to know what she does with me when I'm not 'in house' so to speak. She finally looked back at him, letting herself recognize that he'd reached out for her in some capacity, and she felt sad, even if she couldn't explain why. She wasn't used to feeling sad. That emotion was so predominant that she no longer even really recognized it.
Why are you holed up in here? You're...not being yourself. She couldn't come out and say she was worried about him, but she could do that.
“Mer’, I’ve had my arm cut off during Inferno sessions, so bits of your heart and blood ain’t nothing to apologize for.” His hands were moving fluidly along. The man may of not gone to college, or done stellar in high school, but Adrián was smart in his own right. He had a good memory, and obsessed over things that caught his interest. American Sign Language had been one of those. He not only was fluent in ASL, but spanish, and Japanese as well.
“I’m pissed because we got shit intel from a person who we shouldn’t have trusted in the first fuckin’ place. I’m pissed that we got taken in, and experimented on.” He was pissed about a lot of things, that was clear enough. There was a twinge of annoyance at her. Why she felt the need to run into the building. Why she felt the need to make sure he was okay. She knew of his abilities. There was also something inexplicable holding him back from expressing how he felt when she died that time. It was different. He thought there may have been a chance that her powers would activate too slowly. That her soul would drift towards the light and never come back.
“Your body is fine,” he muttered. “I’ve been going down there to check up on you. She knows the deal.”
The experimented on thing was bothering her too. They hadn't been able to do anything about her ghost hovering around, they couldn't force her anywhere but they'd taken her body. And since she wasn't drawing in energy like she was supposed to, she hadn't been able to do anything after a certain point. She didn't tell him that she'd found him. That she'd searched every room until she came across him, and she stayed in the room with him when he was out cold.
The last part though was something that had her arching an eyebrow. You've been checking on me? What deal? she had to ask, because she was a bit in the dark about that. Something went on that she didn't know about, obviously. She drifted a little closer to him, the 'blood' trailing through and behind her as she moved. The cold would hit him before she was even that close, she knew, and she wondered how he dealt with the dread she induced in people. Or if he, by now, was used to it and could ignore it.
She wound up closer than she likely would have gotten if she'd had a physical form. Her black and white shadow form leeched of all color eyed him as she flickered, blurring out then snapping back into 'focus' again.
“The deal,” he repeated, his glance fixated on her phantom form. “Is that she doesn’t use her powers on you.” Her spirit may have not been attached to her body when she was like this, but it was still her, and that was still her body.
His gaze drifted from her face, and to the thin wisps of inky black that trailed behind her. It was the blood still seeping from the wound that was inflicted upon her back at the warehouse. Hazel eyes lingered there for awhile, the scene replaying in his mind one more time.
You could have done something, the voice scratched at the back of his mind. But you got distracted. “I don’t need this right now,” Adrián muttered to himself. It was obvious he was not speaking to Meredith. The tone in his voice changed, and he looked away from her. The door to his bathroom had been left opened, and he was able to see his reflection from the mirror.
The cold was drawing closer to him, his breath had even started to fog the closer she drifted to him. His gaze tore away from himself, looking at the form flickering in and out of focus.
“Why are you here again,” it was his turn to ask. It wasn’t like she had ever had the urge to check up on him before.
I don't know. It was her first thought and against her better judgment, she signed it too. It was the truth, she guessed. She didn't have an answer for him. Hell, she didn't even have an answer for herself. She hadn't been trying to come find him, she'd just known it was what she was up to when she'd arrived. Was it to say she was sorry for fucking up? To just check on him because she knew something was wrong? Just to see him? That last part was way too needy of her, so it couldn't be that. Right?
She looked away, then passed through him, heading toward the door. The bulb flickered in the light as she passed it, and it broke in her wake. Objects nearby tipped over or skittered away on their own, not that she tried that. It was an emotional response she couldn't actually control no matter how hard she tried. And she pretty much hated that she was having an emotional response at all. She couldn't even identify what the fuck it was she was feeling. She didn't want to know, either. Feelings were messy. It was why she preferred not having them.
Adrián had no intention of pushing the matter. If she didn’t know the he would take her word for it. It wasn’t like he even knew how to broach the subject. It also appeared that he didn’t have to say much of anything else because she was leaving, or starting to leave.
“Well, you’re pissed about something.” Things were tipping over, and the lightbulb above them exploded. That only meant her emotions were taking over, but he didn’t really know exactly why. His eyes narrowed, and took a step closer to her. The bitter cold didn’t bother him. He could handle the sting of ice on his face, and on his fingers as they passed through her body.
She didn't even know how to address that either. She wasn't exactly pissed, though she sort of desperately wished she could drum that emotion up right now. It would be so much easier to simply channel her emotions through anger. But she wasn't actually angry right now. She didn't know what she was, and Meredith wasn't used to being at a loss.
She didn't like it. She turned back around when she saw he was close, reaching through her. She looked down at his hand as it passed through her, her form reacting only by way of flickering a little more, blurring out more heavily before it seemed to stabilize again. Maybe I just wanted to see what the fuck was wrong with you, she 'snapped' which was basically just signing with passion and a pissy look on her features. She knew when she'd learned sign, her instructor had been sure to tell her that body language counted for a ton in sign. When you called someone a bitch, you had to say it with your whole being.
Despite the fact that she was a whole lot of not actually on the same plane as he was, it was almost like she could feel him there, that close. Maybe it was just the memory of him, haunting her.
“Clearly nothing is fuckin’ wrong with me,” he returned the venomous tones right back. His brows knitted together, and the skin between them wrinkled a bit. Adrian didn’t know what got into her within these last few moments, but it didn’t sit well with him. It was probably her still lingering around a plane of existence that he didn’t quite grasp at all, seeing as he’s never been dead for that long before. It had to fuck with your psyche just a little.
“How much longer until you got back into your body?” He didn’t know how that worked either. If she felt something just before, or was there a set amount of time depending upon the wound. “Listen before you leave all pissy and shit. I just want to let you know that I’m not pissed at you.”
I didn't know hiding in your room was normal for you, she signed. She looked away again, then back when he spoke. She sighed, as much as she could sigh for someone who wasn't breathing. I don't know. If someone's tried to repair my heart a little, it'll be faster. If they're just leaving it to heal on it's own, it'll be longer. And I wouldn't put it past anyone to leave it for longer, as punishment for fucking up. She was legitimately concerned about that.
Hell, it had occurred to her that if they wanted to keep her punished, all they really had to do was stick a knife through her heart and leave it there. Her body would keep trying to heal it, but it wouldn't work, so she'd stay in her poltergeist form indefinitely. But she'd never said that aloud, because she didn't want to give anyone that idea.
Why do you care, anyway? Tired of trying to make sure I'm not being molested in the morgue? Because I didn't ask you to do that, she said, somewhere between trying to let him off the hook and give herself a reason not to be feeling weird about it. Which she still was. And I'm not pissed at you either. I'm pissed at me. That much she could definitely give him because it was the pure truth. She wasn't anywhere near pissed at him. She was just...a jumble of other shit she couldn't figure out.
“I’m not hiding.” We’re hiding. “We’re not hiding,” he said again. The voice in his head hushed for a moment as if they were considering his words. “You think if they shot you up with some of my blood that you’ll heal fast,” he suggested, a hand laying flat against the back of his neck. His glance was on the floor now, weight shifting from one foot to the other.
“I was just trying to do something nice,” he admitted, his honestly coming at her with a bite in his tone. “It’s not like I don’t know that’s what you’re worried about since your ribs up and went missing.” He cleared his throat. There was a bit of uneasiness in his voice. “I’ll stop.” Because, now that he was thinking about it, he felt weird.
We? she asked, confused, but she didn't stick with that question alone. Instead, she frowned, thinking about the idea that his blood might help her healing process. Has that ever worked with anyone else? she asked, because she truly didn't know. She knew his healing factor was off the charts, it was why he could do shit like take hails of bullets and lose an arm in training. But still.
When he mentioned her ribs, she immediately hugged herself, hand sliding over the deformed indentation in her side where the ribs were missing, even if no one could even see that right now. In this form it was hard to tell anything, let alone see detail that easily missed. But he'd hit home right there, most definitely. She nodded when he said he'd stop, even if there was a part of her that really didn't want him to. Because she did appreciate it. But she'd been the one to question it in the first place so it would be a real dick move to then turn right around and say she wanted him to. I don't want you to go out of your way. She looked away for a second, then back. ...but for the record, I do appreciate that you did that. Because you're right about what I'm worried about. Who knows what else goes missing. Kidney? Lungs? More bones?
A brow quirked when he say her signing the word “we”. He looked confused at first, wondering what the hell she was even talking about. You’re talking to yourself again, the voice quickly added. “Oh.” His eyes went wide, and nodded his head. “The voices.” Adrian signed, and hoped she understood. It wasn’t the first time he spoke to himself around her, and wouldn’t be the last. They also never really delved into the subject any about the voices that plagued him constantly.
“I don’t think anyone has ever tried,” speaking about the medical staff using his DNA to heal the wounded. He really didn’t see why that wouldn’t work, but he also never went to college. “If they let me, I’d let them have some so you could be solid again,” he muttered.
“It’s not really out of my way, Mer’. What the fuck else am I going to do? I’ve been sitting here wondering why the fuck I’m not where they are. Why I’m here. I’m the tank. It’s my job to take all the hits. It’s my job to fuckin’ make sure no one else gets the brunt of it.”
She didn't quite ask what he meant by 'the voices', because she was smart enough to put two and two together. She nodded in the end. I didn't know, she told him. In retrospect, it put a lot of things into context, though, and she felt stupid for not having picked up on the exact nature of his offhand statements before now. But then that was a theme for the day – feeling like a fucking idiot.
She felt a tiny little twinge of hope that something could speed the process along. She usually didn't mind being dead, it was oddly freeing at points, because she couldn't actually be kept in one place like that, but at the moment...she wished she was physically there. Meredith had zero idea what she would do with herself if she was there, but for some reason her brain decided that it would be better. Thanks.
At the last part, she nodded, looking away, then back. She said nothing for a few moments, then drifted closer to him again. Closer than she should have gotten, but she wanted to be sure she had eye contact. She wished there was a speaker in the room so she could use it to 'talk', but there wasn't, so she still signed. Not all the hits, and you can't ever make sure no one else ever takes one. We're all in this because we have to be. You're not our babysitter, and I know you take your job really seriously, but this wasn't your fault – you know that, right?
Broad shoulders lifted and fell for a shrug. A lot of people either ignored it, or didn’t feel the need to press the issue. He really didn’t know what else to say. There were not words that would make Meredith’s situation any better. She was still waiting to be tethered back to her more tangible form, and Adrian didn’t have the power to speed anything up. Well, not at this current moment anyway.
A sigh had been building into his chest, and expelled it through flared nostrils. He felt the heavy weight of hopelessness on his shoulders, and couldn’t quite shake it off. Lips had parted, and he had been about to say something, but caught her drifting back to him. They were mere inches from one another. It was the closest she had ever come up to him. He could feel the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and it was at this moment he’d wanted to hear her voice.
He cleared his throat, and took a step back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Then how did you mean it? Because it sounds like you're blaming yourself. And I know things... things are shitty and I want to know what happened to everyone else too. I didn't know they disappeared. I was in with -- she stopped signing mid-sentence, because she didn't know if she needed to tell him that she'd been in the room with him. For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe that was why he hadn't been taken too. He'd had a 'guard' of some description, even if she wasn't exactly much. She'd follow them if she saw him taken and there would be fuck all that they'd be able to do about it.
So, a pang of heavy guilt hit her like a stab to the chest, and she looked down, drifting back again, giving him his space since he'd taken the step back from her.
“Why are you getting on my case,” he finally was able to muster, trying to regain control of the turbulent of emotions starting to seep out through the cracks of his exterior.
“Huh,” he had noticed she hadn’t finished her thought. She had stopped using her hands to communicate abruptly. His brows knitted together, and a scrutinizing gaze swept over her. “You obviously know something that I am not privy too.”
Because something tells me if I don't, no one else is going to. And you don't need people coddling the shit out of you, you're the kind of guy who needs to answer for things, you're the kind of guy who needs a hard kick to the ass. She hoped that explained it. It was true, though that wasn't all of it. But the rest of it she didn't know if she could put words to.
At the last part, she was quiet for a minute, looking away then back. I didn't see anyone get carted off because I was in your room. I found you and stayed with you. And I'm half wondering now if maybe they didn't take you because they couldn't do anything about me, and if I followed – which I would have – their operation would have been blown. She crossed her arms and looked down, really hating feeling things right now. It fucking sucked. She'd rather be numb than this.
“I don’t think you can even kick my ass right now.” His head tilted slightly to one side, hazel eyes watching her form flicker in and out of this plane of existence. “But don’t poltergeist the shit out of me. I don’t need Elizabitch angry that her shit is broken. She’d blame me.” His gaze fell away from her, and to his roommates belonging. She had a knack for collecting things, most of which wasn’t her’s to begin with.
He had stepped away from Meredith, and towards what appeared to be his cassette player that happened to be where he had not put it last, but paused in his step when she admitted to staying with him. Adrian whirled around at nearly a neck breaking speed, and the gap between them soon closed. His face was pulled close to her’s, and didn’t really care if it wasn’t tangible or not.
“You fucking did what,” he asked, but Adrian had assumed her interpreted her signing correctly. “Why did you stay with me? Why didn’t you look to see where the others were?” his voices was climbing, and getting all the more gravelly. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this.” He tore away from her, his back now facing her. Metal cried out when a fist pummeled into the bed frame of the top bunk.
Adrian brought himself down onto bent knees, and slowly sat himself on the ground with his back leaning against his bed. Both hands were covering his face.
She felt a moment of fear when he was abruptly up in her face. It didn't matter that he couldn't touch her right now, couldn't hurt her. That didn't register properly in her brain. Because all she saw was a man who could shatter her into a million pieces without breaking a sweat barreling down on her. She even twitched back, and held up her hands as if to ward him off, even if her fingertips went through his chest when he got so close.
She felt like she deserved his ire, though. That she deserved anger and disgust and to be questioned on why she was such a fucking useless bitch. If she hadn't already blamed herself for things, this would have set blame squarely on her shoulders. As if a weight were literally placed on them, her shoulders sagged, and she looked at the floor. She flinched at his punching the bed frame, and she watched him sit and cover his features.
Very faintly, more crackles and pops coming through than her voice, the speaker from his cassette player had one thing put forth before it died again. “...I'm sorry.” And with that, she fled, sliding through the wall quickly to retreat. Maybe ghosts didn't truly cry, but she certainly felt like she was.
Meredith was still dead. The mission was over, the rescue had happened, there was a lot of bullshit happening. A whole shit storm that she didn’t want to be part of at all. She wanted to forget this mission ever happened. For the first time in what felt like forever, she’d actually been scared. Meredith didn’t like feeling scared. She was perfectly good with her general apathy toward life and everything in it. This time, though, things had been different.
She’d seen Onslaught go down, and that had not been happy fun times in a way that she was very fiercely ignoring in her own head. Her team, while maybe there wasn’t a lot of love lost there, she’d had to watch go down too, while she hadn’t been able to do much to stop it. Her powers had been dampened too, so the hits she’d landed hadn’t done much. Definitely not what they were supposed to. It basically spelled out for her just how fucking useless she could really be, without having a physical form.
She’d managed to alert the base, to pinpoint their location, so she’d helped that way but it still all felt too little too late. Not enough. Feeling inadequate wasn’t really high up on Meredith’s favorite emotions either.
Of course there was the last part, too. The part where, because things were dampened, she hadn’t actually come back right away. She was used to the transition being quick. Her heart stopped, the lights went out and she barely missed a beat as her spirit screamed out of her body. This time, though. This time, she knew she’d lost time. It wasn’t a blink. The transition had been slow, like trying to swim through jello. When she finally was ‘there’ again, she was disoriented. Far more so than usual. Because it was like she’d blinked out of existence for a few minutes.
Meredith had no idea how to deal with that at all. It loomed over her mind heavily, and she just didn’t know.
She did find herself floating the halls, trailing the ink from the gunshot wound in her chest behind her, not really giving much of a shit who she spooked as she passed. She didn’t realize she was looking for him until she found him and stopped moving. He was in his room, and she moved through the cracked door and wall into the space.
The mission was a complete and utter disaster, and it was a miracle that Echo had somehow managed to get the upperhand. They were all well prepared, more so than Alpha. Adrián took the loss pretty heavily. He had not stepped outside of his room after they had all been brought back, and cleared by the medical doctor’s in the facility. He had not gone to eat, nor did he seek refuge within the Inferno or Wet Floor.
Sleep seemed pointless, and every time his eyelids did flutter closed he got vivid flashbacks of the botched mission. He could still see Meredith’s face the exact moment the bullet ripped through her. The look of shock and pain still hit him like a brick wall. He didn’t want to blame himself, but felt the weight of it on his shoulders. That did not bode well with him at all. He was alone in his room when Meredith phased through the door. Elizabeth, his roommate, was nowhere to be seen, but he couldn’t care any less as to where she was romping around. In fact, he didn’t want to care much about anything. Embarrassment was an understatement.
Adrián was just exiting the bathroom when he saw her come in. The look of disapproval washed over his face, and hazel eyes diverted elsewhere. He was trying to ignore the pang of guilt that gripped his chest tightly. She was obviously not corporeal yet, and for some reason that worried him.
“I’m not dead,” he said bitterly.
Meredith interpreted the clear nasty look he gave her as blame for things going sideways. She knew she'd kind of fucked up there. Not that it had mattered, her death was going to happen one way or another, but she'd distracted him. She knew she'd distracted him, and that was...well. Unprofessional wasn't quite the word but it was the closest she could get. She looked away, her form wavering for a moment, the black inky 'blood' from her gaping chest wound drifting up and obscuring her features for a moment before she moved. God dammit why didn't they have windows in this place?
I'm sorry, she signed to him. He was one of the only people she could communicate with when there weren't speakers around for her to talk through. She appreciated that on a level she didn't look too closely at. I know I fucked up. This was weird for her on a number of levels, not the least of which was she was apologizing at all. Meredith was pretty great at alienating people and being wholly unrepentant for it. But here she was, saying she was sorry – and worse, she meant it.
He wanted to blame her. It would have been easy to do so. The look on her face said it all, even if her ghostly appearance had been wavering. She was intangible, and her body drifted in and out of this plane of existence.
“You didn’t fuck up,” he not only made his lips visible for her to perhaps read, but his hands rose from his sides to use his fingers to sign the words that had come out of his mouth. Adrián thought it wise to learn American Sign Language so they could all communicate even if there was nothing for Meredith to electronically filter through. No, he didn’t have to do this, and if anyone asked, he’d say it was strictly for the purpose of missions. He would never admit to doing something nice for someone, that would mean admitting caring.
“The whole thing was fucked from the start,” he continued on, his hands continued to sign as he spoke.
Meredith rolled her eyes and gave him a Look. I know it was, that doesn't mean that I didn't fuck up myself. You know it, I know it. Let's just agree that I really fucked the dog on this one and next time, we'll just...I don't know. Kill me before we get there, just in case I decide to get stupid again. She did understand that not everything was her fault, and she wasn't trying to claim blame there. But she was claiming blame for things going sideways for him.
She moved a little more around the room, spreading the cold out. If she stayed in one spot too long, things would start to get a sheen of frost. She dropped the temperature and while the room wasn't that big, she sort of didn't want to make one part of it uninhabitable for him. She decided to go drift toward Gemini's area, because she wasn't here so fuck her. Miss badass blonde perfection. Just that thought made her aware that something was weird there, though she didn't know what. The eye roll she wanted to do would pop her eyes right out of her head. What was with her?
The temperature did in fact drastically plumet whenever her noncorporeal form lingered around, but it never bothered him. His body had a way of regulating its internal temperature, and made it so that he was able to deal with the elements. Hazel eyes followed her as best as he could. She seemed to flicker like static on a television screen.
He had reached out just then in an attempt to reassure her. He really didn’t know why, but it felt mostly like a natural reaction. Only his hand never touched her shoulder, and only felt the icy grip of death on his fingertips. Slowly he pulled his hand back, and rested it atop of his head for a second or two. The words weren’t coming to him as quickly as they usually did. He was quiet, but more perceptive than usual.
“What’s keeping you from going back to your body,” finally he asked, removing his hand from his head to sign.
That was right, they didn't usually hang out like this or anything, so why would he know exactly how it worked? I haven't healed up yet. The gunshot was more trauma than you usually do, she explained in sign. It blew part of my heart out. All over you, if I'm remembering right. But really the lights had gone out so fast after that that she didn't even know. And then there was the part where she hadn't come back right away, and it was her turn to look away.
She tried to move them on, around that particular fact. So, yeah. I might be dead for a little while longer, while I heal up. And I guess I could go hang in the morgue with my corpse, but...why? I'm sure Reaper's down there doing creepy shit to it anyway. I don't really want to know what she does with me when I'm not 'in house' so to speak. She finally looked back at him, letting herself recognize that he'd reached out for her in some capacity, and she felt sad, even if she couldn't explain why. She wasn't used to feeling sad. That emotion was so predominant that she no longer even really recognized it.
Why are you holed up in here? You're...not being yourself. She couldn't come out and say she was worried about him, but she could do that.
“Mer’, I’ve had my arm cut off during Inferno sessions, so bits of your heart and blood ain’t nothing to apologize for.” His hands were moving fluidly along. The man may of not gone to college, or done stellar in high school, but Adrián was smart in his own right. He had a good memory, and obsessed over things that caught his interest. American Sign Language had been one of those. He not only was fluent in ASL, but spanish, and Japanese as well.
“I’m pissed because we got shit intel from a person who we shouldn’t have trusted in the first fuckin’ place. I’m pissed that we got taken in, and experimented on.” He was pissed about a lot of things, that was clear enough. There was a twinge of annoyance at her. Why she felt the need to run into the building. Why she felt the need to make sure he was okay. She knew of his abilities. There was also something inexplicable holding him back from expressing how he felt when she died that time. It was different. He thought there may have been a chance that her powers would activate too slowly. That her soul would drift towards the light and never come back.
“Your body is fine,” he muttered. “I’ve been going down there to check up on you. She knows the deal.”
The experimented on thing was bothering her too. They hadn't been able to do anything about her ghost hovering around, they couldn't force her anywhere but they'd taken her body. And since she wasn't drawing in energy like she was supposed to, she hadn't been able to do anything after a certain point. She didn't tell him that she'd found him. That she'd searched every room until she came across him, and she stayed in the room with him when he was out cold.
The last part though was something that had her arching an eyebrow. You've been checking on me? What deal? she had to ask, because she was a bit in the dark about that. Something went on that she didn't know about, obviously. She drifted a little closer to him, the 'blood' trailing through and behind her as she moved. The cold would hit him before she was even that close, she knew, and she wondered how he dealt with the dread she induced in people. Or if he, by now, was used to it and could ignore it.
She wound up closer than she likely would have gotten if she'd had a physical form. Her black and white shadow form leeched of all color eyed him as she flickered, blurring out then snapping back into 'focus' again.
“The deal,” he repeated, his glance fixated on her phantom form. “Is that she doesn’t use her powers on you.” Her spirit may have not been attached to her body when she was like this, but it was still her, and that was still her body.
His gaze drifted from her face, and to the thin wisps of inky black that trailed behind her. It was the blood still seeping from the wound that was inflicted upon her back at the warehouse. Hazel eyes lingered there for awhile, the scene replaying in his mind one more time.
You could have done something, the voice scratched at the back of his mind. But you got distracted. “I don’t need this right now,” Adrián muttered to himself. It was obvious he was not speaking to Meredith. The tone in his voice changed, and he looked away from her. The door to his bathroom had been left opened, and he was able to see his reflection from the mirror.
The cold was drawing closer to him, his breath had even started to fog the closer she drifted to him. His gaze tore away from himself, looking at the form flickering in and out of focus.
“Why are you here again,” it was his turn to ask. It wasn’t like she had ever had the urge to check up on him before.
I don't know. It was her first thought and against her better judgment, she signed it too. It was the truth, she guessed. She didn't have an answer for him. Hell, she didn't even have an answer for herself. She hadn't been trying to come find him, she'd just known it was what she was up to when she'd arrived. Was it to say she was sorry for fucking up? To just check on him because she knew something was wrong? Just to see him? That last part was way too needy of her, so it couldn't be that. Right?
She looked away, then passed through him, heading toward the door. The bulb flickered in the light as she passed it, and it broke in her wake. Objects nearby tipped over or skittered away on their own, not that she tried that. It was an emotional response she couldn't actually control no matter how hard she tried. And she pretty much hated that she was having an emotional response at all. She couldn't even identify what the fuck it was she was feeling. She didn't want to know, either. Feelings were messy. It was why she preferred not having them.
Adrián had no intention of pushing the matter. If she didn’t know the he would take her word for it. It wasn’t like he even knew how to broach the subject. It also appeared that he didn’t have to say much of anything else because she was leaving, or starting to leave.
“Well, you’re pissed about something.” Things were tipping over, and the lightbulb above them exploded. That only meant her emotions were taking over, but he didn’t really know exactly why. His eyes narrowed, and took a step closer to her. The bitter cold didn’t bother him. He could handle the sting of ice on his face, and on his fingers as they passed through her body.
She didn't even know how to address that either. She wasn't exactly pissed, though she sort of desperately wished she could drum that emotion up right now. It would be so much easier to simply channel her emotions through anger. But she wasn't actually angry right now. She didn't know what she was, and Meredith wasn't used to being at a loss.
She didn't like it. She turned back around when she saw he was close, reaching through her. She looked down at his hand as it passed through her, her form reacting only by way of flickering a little more, blurring out more heavily before it seemed to stabilize again. Maybe I just wanted to see what the fuck was wrong with you, she 'snapped' which was basically just signing with passion and a pissy look on her features. She knew when she'd learned sign, her instructor had been sure to tell her that body language counted for a ton in sign. When you called someone a bitch, you had to say it with your whole being.
Despite the fact that she was a whole lot of not actually on the same plane as he was, it was almost like she could feel him there, that close. Maybe it was just the memory of him, haunting her.
“Clearly nothing is fuckin’ wrong with me,” he returned the venomous tones right back. His brows knitted together, and the skin between them wrinkled a bit. Adrian didn’t know what got into her within these last few moments, but it didn’t sit well with him. It was probably her still lingering around a plane of existence that he didn’t quite grasp at all, seeing as he’s never been dead for that long before. It had to fuck with your psyche just a little.
“How much longer until you got back into your body?” He didn’t know how that worked either. If she felt something just before, or was there a set amount of time depending upon the wound. “Listen before you leave all pissy and shit. I just want to let you know that I’m not pissed at you.”
I didn't know hiding in your room was normal for you, she signed. She looked away again, then back when he spoke. She sighed, as much as she could sigh for someone who wasn't breathing. I don't know. If someone's tried to repair my heart a little, it'll be faster. If they're just leaving it to heal on it's own, it'll be longer. And I wouldn't put it past anyone to leave it for longer, as punishment for fucking up. She was legitimately concerned about that.
Hell, it had occurred to her that if they wanted to keep her punished, all they really had to do was stick a knife through her heart and leave it there. Her body would keep trying to heal it, but it wouldn't work, so she'd stay in her poltergeist form indefinitely. But she'd never said that aloud, because she didn't want to give anyone that idea.
Why do you care, anyway? Tired of trying to make sure I'm not being molested in the morgue? Because I didn't ask you to do that, she said, somewhere between trying to let him off the hook and give herself a reason not to be feeling weird about it. Which she still was. And I'm not pissed at you either. I'm pissed at me. That much she could definitely give him because it was the pure truth. She wasn't anywhere near pissed at him. She was just...a jumble of other shit she couldn't figure out.
“I’m not hiding.” We’re hiding. “We’re not hiding,” he said again. The voice in his head hushed for a moment as if they were considering his words. “You think if they shot you up with some of my blood that you’ll heal fast,” he suggested, a hand laying flat against the back of his neck. His glance was on the floor now, weight shifting from one foot to the other.
“I was just trying to do something nice,” he admitted, his honestly coming at her with a bite in his tone. “It’s not like I don’t know that’s what you’re worried about since your ribs up and went missing.” He cleared his throat. There was a bit of uneasiness in his voice. “I’ll stop.” Because, now that he was thinking about it, he felt weird.
We? she asked, confused, but she didn't stick with that question alone. Instead, she frowned, thinking about the idea that his blood might help her healing process. Has that ever worked with anyone else? she asked, because she truly didn't know. She knew his healing factor was off the charts, it was why he could do shit like take hails of bullets and lose an arm in training. But still.
When he mentioned her ribs, she immediately hugged herself, hand sliding over the deformed indentation in her side where the ribs were missing, even if no one could even see that right now. In this form it was hard to tell anything, let alone see detail that easily missed. But he'd hit home right there, most definitely. She nodded when he said he'd stop, even if there was a part of her that really didn't want him to. Because she did appreciate it. But she'd been the one to question it in the first place so it would be a real dick move to then turn right around and say she wanted him to. I don't want you to go out of your way. She looked away for a second, then back. ...but for the record, I do appreciate that you did that. Because you're right about what I'm worried about. Who knows what else goes missing. Kidney? Lungs? More bones?
A brow quirked when he say her signing the word “we”. He looked confused at first, wondering what the hell she was even talking about. You’re talking to yourself again, the voice quickly added. “Oh.” His eyes went wide, and nodded his head. “The voices.” Adrian signed, and hoped she understood. It wasn’t the first time he spoke to himself around her, and wouldn’t be the last. They also never really delved into the subject any about the voices that plagued him constantly.
“I don’t think anyone has ever tried,” speaking about the medical staff using his DNA to heal the wounded. He really didn’t see why that wouldn’t work, but he also never went to college. “If they let me, I’d let them have some so you could be solid again,” he muttered.
“It’s not really out of my way, Mer’. What the fuck else am I going to do? I’ve been sitting here wondering why the fuck I’m not where they are. Why I’m here. I’m the tank. It’s my job to take all the hits. It’s my job to fuckin’ make sure no one else gets the brunt of it.”
She didn't quite ask what he meant by 'the voices', because she was smart enough to put two and two together. She nodded in the end. I didn't know, she told him. In retrospect, it put a lot of things into context, though, and she felt stupid for not having picked up on the exact nature of his offhand statements before now. But then that was a theme for the day – feeling like a fucking idiot.
She felt a tiny little twinge of hope that something could speed the process along. She usually didn't mind being dead, it was oddly freeing at points, because she couldn't actually be kept in one place like that, but at the moment...she wished she was physically there. Meredith had zero idea what she would do with herself if she was there, but for some reason her brain decided that it would be better. Thanks.
At the last part, she nodded, looking away, then back. She said nothing for a few moments, then drifted closer to him again. Closer than she should have gotten, but she wanted to be sure she had eye contact. She wished there was a speaker in the room so she could use it to 'talk', but there wasn't, so she still signed. Not all the hits, and you can't ever make sure no one else ever takes one. We're all in this because we have to be. You're not our babysitter, and I know you take your job really seriously, but this wasn't your fault – you know that, right?
Broad shoulders lifted and fell for a shrug. A lot of people either ignored it, or didn’t feel the need to press the issue. He really didn’t know what else to say. There were not words that would make Meredith’s situation any better. She was still waiting to be tethered back to her more tangible form, and Adrian didn’t have the power to speed anything up. Well, not at this current moment anyway.
A sigh had been building into his chest, and expelled it through flared nostrils. He felt the heavy weight of hopelessness on his shoulders, and couldn’t quite shake it off. Lips had parted, and he had been about to say something, but caught her drifting back to him. They were mere inches from one another. It was the closest she had ever come up to him. He could feel the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and it was at this moment he’d wanted to hear her voice.
He cleared his throat, and took a step back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Then how did you mean it? Because it sounds like you're blaming yourself. And I know things... things are shitty and I want to know what happened to everyone else too. I didn't know they disappeared. I was in with -- she stopped signing mid-sentence, because she didn't know if she needed to tell him that she'd been in the room with him. For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe that was why he hadn't been taken too. He'd had a 'guard' of some description, even if she wasn't exactly much. She'd follow them if she saw him taken and there would be fuck all that they'd be able to do about it.
So, a pang of heavy guilt hit her like a stab to the chest, and she looked down, drifting back again, giving him his space since he'd taken the step back from her.
“Why are you getting on my case,” he finally was able to muster, trying to regain control of the turbulent of emotions starting to seep out through the cracks of his exterior.
“Huh,” he had noticed she hadn’t finished her thought. She had stopped using her hands to communicate abruptly. His brows knitted together, and a scrutinizing gaze swept over her. “You obviously know something that I am not privy too.”
Because something tells me if I don't, no one else is going to. And you don't need people coddling the shit out of you, you're the kind of guy who needs to answer for things, you're the kind of guy who needs a hard kick to the ass. She hoped that explained it. It was true, though that wasn't all of it. But the rest of it she didn't know if she could put words to.
At the last part, she was quiet for a minute, looking away then back. I didn't see anyone get carted off because I was in your room. I found you and stayed with you. And I'm half wondering now if maybe they didn't take you because they couldn't do anything about me, and if I followed – which I would have – their operation would have been blown. She crossed her arms and looked down, really hating feeling things right now. It fucking sucked. She'd rather be numb than this.
“I don’t think you can even kick my ass right now.” His head tilted slightly to one side, hazel eyes watching her form flicker in and out of this plane of existence. “But don’t poltergeist the shit out of me. I don’t need Elizabitch angry that her shit is broken. She’d blame me.” His gaze fell away from her, and to his roommates belonging. She had a knack for collecting things, most of which wasn’t her’s to begin with.
He had stepped away from Meredith, and towards what appeared to be his cassette player that happened to be where he had not put it last, but paused in his step when she admitted to staying with him. Adrian whirled around at nearly a neck breaking speed, and the gap between them soon closed. His face was pulled close to her’s, and didn’t really care if it wasn’t tangible or not.
“You fucking did what,” he asked, but Adrian had assumed her interpreted her signing correctly. “Why did you stay with me? Why didn’t you look to see where the others were?” his voices was climbing, and getting all the more gravelly. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this.” He tore away from her, his back now facing her. Metal cried out when a fist pummeled into the bed frame of the top bunk.
Adrian brought himself down onto bent knees, and slowly sat himself on the ground with his back leaning against his bed. Both hands were covering his face.
She felt a moment of fear when he was abruptly up in her face. It didn't matter that he couldn't touch her right now, couldn't hurt her. That didn't register properly in her brain. Because all she saw was a man who could shatter her into a million pieces without breaking a sweat barreling down on her. She even twitched back, and held up her hands as if to ward him off, even if her fingertips went through his chest when he got so close.
She felt like she deserved his ire, though. That she deserved anger and disgust and to be questioned on why she was such a fucking useless bitch. If she hadn't already blamed herself for things, this would have set blame squarely on her shoulders. As if a weight were literally placed on them, her shoulders sagged, and she looked at the floor. She flinched at his punching the bed frame, and she watched him sit and cover his features.
Very faintly, more crackles and pops coming through than her voice, the speaker from his cassette player had one thing put forth before it died again. “...I'm sorry.” And with that, she fled, sliding through the wall quickly to retreat. Maybe ghosts didn't truly cry, but she certainly felt like she was.