Shiloh Preston (estudier) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-05-29 18:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | oracle, piers knight |
Who: Shiloh & Gwen
What: Friends helping friends
Where: Seattle-Tacoma airport -> Hospital
When: Night of the plane wreck
Warnings: None
When the cab pulled up along side his Prius, Shiloh was with it enough to slide out of the passenger seat, pulling his wallet out and meeting Gwen before she had a chance to exit the cab. The bills he gave the driver were more than enough to cover the fare, and a generous tip considering the situation. The air was thick with the smell of burning fuel when the cab finally drove off, and Shiloh looked towards Gwen, still standing where he had been to pay the cab.
“Again, thanks,” he said quietly, glancing over towards his shoulder to the wreckage of the plane, his features tightening. Standing out there, in the parking lot, watching the crews clean up, break down, and otherwise take care of the wreckage, made the entire situation seem that much more real. He could feel his stomach lurch, an uncomfortable twist, and without a word he moved towards his car, hands braced on the trunk, leaning forward as he fought the urge to be sick, again. “What kind of father does this...” he muttered to himself, his voice thin and tight.
She tossed Shiloh a look since he had made it very clear that she wasn’t allowed to argue. She still didn’t like him paying for it but she was here to calm him down, and if that helped, she’d let him. She wasn’t going to let him be sick all over his car though, or let him berate himself further. At least not while the wreckage was in viewing distance. She slid a hand over his back, circles over his shoulder blades. “You didn’t mean it, Shiloh. This wasn’t your intention.”
There was an initial flinch as she rubbed his back, but he soon relaxed ever so slightly, his eyes closing tightly as he pounded a fist against the trunk. “Intentional or not, it still happened, Gwen. It doesn’t make what I did right.” Shiloh stood up a moment later, rubbing a hand over his face, back through his hair, falling still as soon as he caught sight of the remains of the plane.
“It’s not right,” she said simply, even as he stood up and tried to steady himself. “Something you did had a reaction. A terrible one, with still many effects not seen. But beating up your car isn’t going fix that. And heaving until you’re empty won’t make you feel any better.” She spoke like a woman who knew what he felt like and she wondered if she was doing a kind thing being there. She supposed she should have lessened the blow but now that she was there to take him home, and not just on the phone, she didn’t try as hard to mince her words.
Shiloh turned towards her slowly, his expression dark. “You make it seem like I have any right to feel good at all right now,” he said coldly, those blue eyes that were usually warm, crinkled at the corners in amusement or thought, narrowed. “For all I know right now, my son may be dead. The son whom I have done nothing but fail from the moment he was born. I wasn’t there for him then. I didn’t even know he existed! And then he comes here and all I do the entire time is turn away from him, keep him at arm’s length, because I had no idea what to do. And the moment he leaves, off to bigger and better places, the moment I try to catch him, to stop him. I do this?” He threw an arm out to the side, gesturing to the rubble, the wreckage so plain on the tarmac.
“I’m not supposed to feel better!” And then he did punch the car, a wind around them whipping up in response to his emotions, gusts that could knock a person off their feet.
“Get yourself to together, Shiloh.” To her credit, Gwen didn’t even flinch. She stood there and took his ranting, let the wind whip her hair, and only squared her feet to keep herself from falling over. She could take his anger. She knew that kind all too well, seen it in the mirror as well as in others. This didn’t even phase her.
“You’re not going to feel better for a very long time and it will take even longer for you to feel okay about that. But right now I need you to stop being so viciously angry so we can get you to a hospital to look for your son. Or we can get you home so you can figure out what to do with yourself. But if you keep up this wind I will knock you out myself. So get yourself under control and get in the car.”
Now that, he hadn’t been expecting. Shiloh wasn’t used to being angry often, and he certainly wasn’t used to being angry in front of people who weren’t family. So it was with shock that the wind died down immediately and he stood there, simply staring at her for the longest time. His stomach felt heavy, a lump of lead settling in his middle, but finally he turned to wordlessly go around to the passenger side of the car, closing the door after him. He knew Gwen was right, knew she wasn’t just spouting words at him, but he couldn’t find any comfort in that right now. So instead he buckled himself in and settled in to the seat, leaning against the door with his attention focused outside.
When he turned away she let out a soft breath that she hadn’t even realized she was holding, and the hand that had been curling into a fist fell limply at her side. At least it hadn’t come to that. Things were strange and awkward enough between them without her punching him. She went to the driver’s, adjusted his seat and the mirrors, and said “Let’s go,” though she knew she was mostly talking to herself. She drove in silence, not bothering to put on music or fill the space between them with idle chit chat. When he was ready to talk, they’d talk. For now, she’d drive.
Normally, Shiloh enjoyed silence. It allowed him to focus, to work, to be with his own thoughts instead of dealing with everyone else’s words, but at that moment, the silence was punishment. He didn’t want to be with his own thoughts, his own worries, the guilt that chewed at his insides and made the mere thought of food gag-worthy. He should have called a cab of his own, left his car until he could come back in a better state instead of bothering Gwen with his issues, issues she shouldn’t have to deal with.
When did I become the burden? Shiloh asked himself silently, pressing the heel of his hand against one eye, grinding down, the pressure something else to focus on other than what he had did, what may have happened because of him. “Just drop me off at the hospital,” he said tightly. “Take my car home. I’ll find my own way back. You’ve spent too much time on this as it is and I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he finished, not looking at her, not even talking in her direction.
“Oh no you’re not.” Gwen had shaken her head but she doubted he was even looking at her. “You don’t have to do this alone. If you’re going to the hospital, I’m coming with you.” If she thought for one second he could do this alone, she would’ve let him. But considering she just had to pick him up, she didn’t think that was the case. Besides, she had her laptop in her purse as well as her comm, which didn’t look much different than a regular headset. She could work offsite if she had to. “I promise I won’t yell at you again.” A beat. “Okay, I promise to try not to yell.”
Shiloh did turn to look at her then, his brows knitted down, expression unreadable. For a moment, he had been tempted to argue the point with her, but Gwen was as stubborn as he, if not moreso, and he knew even before he opened his mouth that it would be a losing battle. So instead, he relented, settling back down to look out the window at the city passing by. “Fine,” he said simply, nothing more, nothing less.
“Good,” she responded curtly, muttering something about ridiculously stubborn men under her breath. She kept driving, using her power only very slightly to turn the street lights in her favor, and letting his GPS tell her how to get to Virginia Mason as fast as possible. It was the safest bet, and if his son wasn’t there she could at least work long enough to find where he‘d be. The silence had stretched out for a while but between her driving and her light changing she couldn’t exactly turn her head. “Still with me?”
“Where else would I be?” The ride was too smooth, and with the lack of stops, he soon found himself watching the world through the windshield, the lights turning with their approach unerringly. Too smooth to be coincidence, but that was hardly the issue at hand. “Sorry,” Shiloh muttered a moment later, wiping a hand over his face before twisting around in his seat, rooting around in the back for something. Moments later, he unearthed a bottle of water, the cap unscrewed to take a swig, to wash some of the sour taste out of his mouth. “I just keep going over worse case scenarios in my head. It’s not helping in the slightest.” Another swig and he tossed the bottle back where he had found it, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat.
“I’m not usually like this. I don’t... loose control. I just don’t.” His voice was tight, quiet, much unlike his usual tone. “This was just... well, it was inexcusable. And I’m pissed off that I let it get like this.” Shiloh’s expression darkened slightly, lasting only a moment before he pressed his head back against the headrest, tensing for a moment before he allowed himself to look back towards her. What he wouldn’t give to rewind things, back to those sleepy, travel-fogged moments during their first meeting. Things were better then.
She rolled her eyes, for really he had been a million miles away. She nodded softly, agreeing completely. For it was inexcusable. It was a terrible, heinous thing that he had done, even if it was an accident. But it didn’t take away from the fact that it was an accident. And there was no way that could rightfully explain what he had done. Not to anyone but another bunch of Creations.
Virgina Mason loomed in the distance and now that he was talking, he had her attention, and she turned away from the street lights to allow them to do their usual duty. She didn’t quite smile at him, just a half attempt to lift her lips to show that she did understand. It wasn’t a matter of trying to make him feel better. She knew what it was like to do something terrible, to not mean to do harm and do it anyway. The guilt was something she knew all too well.
“You’ll work through this,” she promised him solemnly, only breaking eye contact when it was her turn to drive. “You will. I know you will.”
“I wish I was as confident as you,” Shiloh murmured, “because I don’t feel that way in the slightest.” He closed his eyes again, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I don’t know, Gwen. I really don’t know right now what’s going to happen.” His hand fell down to his lap and he looked out the window, the hospital growing closer and closer every second, that sick feeling in his stomach growing worse by the moment. The colour had drained from his face again, a combination of terror and nausea, so strong that he lifted a hand to cover his mouth.
She caught that look from the corner of her eye, that moment of panic and illness and she slipped her hand into his, squeezing firmly, reassuringly. “Takes practice,” she said, her other hand turning the wheel to lead them into the parking structure. “But you can do this. You just have to stop thinking that you should know what to do and just take it as it comes.”
The hand in his own took him by surprise, and he had to look down to confirm that it had actually happened. Squeezing her hand back, Shiloh let out a breath, trying to ease some of the discomfort that had settled in his stomach, his chest. “I don’t want to get good at something like this,” he said as the car settled into a parking spot. Now that they were here, it seemed impossible, the threat that something worse than injury had occurred too much for him to face.
Her smile took on a humorless slant, and it reminded her why she was good at this. “Then you’ll make sure this is the last time.” That was all he really could do. There wasn’t a court of law she could take him to, no way to explain emotional duress with a side of freak storm. He couldn’t change the past and he couldn’t pay for it the way people normally could. But he could pay it forward. He could make sure this never happened again on his watch, and maybe someone else’s too. But forward was all he had left to go.
She gave his hand another squeeze and then unbuckled her seat. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”