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Tweak says, "BANANANANANA"

- (tinieblas) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-09-18 09:43:00

Entry tags:

!ocean's eleven, *log, cristián martin-argüelles, meredith janssen, sam alexander

Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith, Sam, Cris
[The hospital Meredith got moved to was more like a resort than hospital, at least it felt that way to Sam. It was a recovery and therapy place, yeah? But still full nursing and doctors or whatever, private rooms, and it looked like some place for vacation, and Sam figured Neil's guilt was bankrolling the thing hard.

Sam had been at Cris' a few days now, and she was clean. A pair of recently stolen, too-loose and cut-hem jeans, along with a long-sleeved green shirt stolen from Teresita's room, hair tied low, and Sam looked ok. She was starting to jones like crazy, though, and an early morning perusal of Cris' place revealed no money that wasn't in a fat, pink piggybank, and she wasn't that low YET. But, yeah, she needed something fast, or she was going to break that fucking pig. She knew it. Maybe she could find something cheap to sell, but she'd ask around first. She'd already pocketed a spoon for when she scored, and her belly hurt like it was eating itself through. She was jittery as a result, yeah? Like a string pulled too tight.

Maybe it wasn't the best day to go visiting or whatever.

But here they were, walking down the marble halls and passing gift shops and indoor swimming pools. Open doors revealed rooms that looked like hotel suites, and Sam was hella aware that she and Cris looked like maybe they'd ended up in the wrong place. That, or they were someone's poor relations or whatever, but they definitely didn't look like they belonged in this place. Sam edged away from the walls, like they were too clean for her to brush up against, and she motioned down the hall, to where the woman at the nursing station had told them Meredith's room was.

She'd asked, too, nosy, if Neil was there, and the nurse assured her Meredith was alone again, and she said it like she wasn't approving or something. There was a story there, yeah? But Sam, she wasn't asking.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-09-18 09:21 pm UTC (link)

[Silent Hill hadn't been long enough ago for anybody's lives to take them anywhere, huh? Whatever miserable martyr stuff Meredith thought, she wasn't the only one who suffered pain and trauma at the brutal handsa that door, and moving on wasn't gonna be easy, prolly not for anya them. Not Sam, who Cris watched pocket an envelope, and, on another day, he mighta thought it was some kinda correspondence or something from Neil meant to be hidden. But today, he knew once relief showed itself on the gringa's face, that it was money. That she had hit Neil up for money, and even in his drunk state, he'd complied, left it in the room with his maimed and blind girlfriend. The ridiculousnessa that reality sunk sour in Cris' belly, a stone dissolving to pebble in acid. He wanted nothing more, in that second, than to leave. To drag Sam outta there and go, this door offering too much, too many bad memories, too much sun, too much this.

But, he didn't. He situated the chairs. He sat.

They'd had a couple good days, him and Sam. But he knew junkies, and he knew she was in that desperate phase, where she was stuck inside herself, wanting the out of a hit. He knew he couldn't offer her better than that kinda release from reality, as much as it hurt him to admit it to himself, huh? 'Cause he wanted to be there for her and he wanted to help her. He wanted her to realize she could move on, that she could get past all this stuff glutted against her ribs. He knew she could.—They'd talk about it later or something. Cris sat back in his chair, like distance would help him deal with Meredith, with the repulsion he felt whenever he was near her. He tried not to think about how his mouth had been on hers, her blood all over his face and her—her nothing more than hamburger meat on bone. He tried not to thinka before that, the bedroom, the heat. Maybe if Cris had been a different man, he'd be tempted by the needle Sam loved and hated in the same breath. He wouldn't have to worry about nonea this kinda stuff, huh?

But, he was himself, and he'd take pain, hurt, discomfort, anything, over gauzy, stringy, papier-mâché unreality any day. He liked to feel. If he didn't feel, if he numbed himself to it, what was the point? It was true that all that feeling got him into a lotta trouble, that it overwhelmed him often, and that if he didn't have Teresa, maybe it woulda been too much. Maybe, alla that feeling, and what was the point? Of living? Of drowning in that?—But, he did have her. And he had Sam. And he knew, he knew good was in there too, among the pain and fear and hurt, and he knew it was worth it.

Sam talked after Meredith provided a perfunctory answer, a perfunctory excuse, and Cris listened, quiet in his chair, Sam's foot tapping, tapping, tapping. He almost rolled his eyes at her when she clarified 'bout Daniel, but he didn't.

Cris didn't feel awkward 'cause the bandages 'round Meredith's face. He felt awkward 'cause she made him want to get outta his skin. But he pushed through. He made himself do it. He ran his palms down his thighs. One hand strayed, found Sam's ankle and rubbed idle against the bone, up her calf beneath loose denim. That touch let him anchor himself better.] You gonna do this the whole time? [It wasn't asked hard. It was just frank, as was Cris' way.] The pushin' us away thing? We came, 'cause we wanted to come. But, if you wanna rest or don't want us here, just say it, huh? All this polite stuff, I can't ever tell what people are actually tryin' to say. [He glanced at Sam, then back at Meredith.] We can sit and talk for a bit, give you some company, or we can go. But you gotta decide that. We already made the decision to come.

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

ex_perspecti86
2015-09-18 09:44 pm UTC (link)

[Meredith wasn't stupid. She knew that she wasn't the only one who had suffered there. So maybe she was throwing herself a pity party, so maybe she was wallowing in her own misery. She felt like she was allowed to, after all was said and done.

But there she was again, being selfish. Being stupid. Just like they all thought she was.

Her hand fisted again beneath the blanket, unseen, her expression remaining perfectly neutral even as emotions boiled in her chest. Sam was talking, and then Cris, and Meredith, she heard the words without really hearing them. They all sounded so hollow, put out there because they thought they had to, but she couldn't find it in her to believe a word they said. Even Neil, who said she wasn't a burden, she couldn't believe that either. She was just Meredith, Meredith who screwed up again, who got not only herself hurt, but everyone around her. Meredith, who needed to be picked up, taken care of, led around. Who would care about someone like that? Who wouldn't detest someone that was so troublesome... so weak.

It was a lot of self-hatred that had settled there, heavy and hard in her stomach, souring her appetite to the point that even water made her nauseous. But she wasn't about to let that show on her face, that discomfort. Instead she shifted beneath the blankets, hand groping around for a moment for the controls to raise the top of the bed. Settled at a more comfortable angle, she reached out to her left, towards the tray table, to the bottle of water that sat there. She didn't talk yet, didn't say a word, and though her fingers missed twice as she tried to find the bottle, eventually they closed around it to bring it to her lap. Even that disgusted her, gave her more reason to hate herself. This inability to exist without help...

She took a drink after a moment, just the tiniest of sips to wet a mouth that had gone dry, and then the bottle was recapped. It was tempting, oh so fucking tempting, to snap at Cris, to tell him to stop pretending that he wanted to be here. She knew he didn't want to be there, had probably only come because Sam, for some reason, insisted on visiting. But she didn't. She kept her mouth shut to him, focusing instead on capping the bottle and putting it back, one hand reaching for the table to find its position once more before putting the bottle back with the other hand.]

They're nice enough. They try to hard, though. I just wish they'd let me be. Give their attention to the ones who want it. [Her hands folded together, white-knuckled with the grip that she had.] I'm just not - I don't want you to waste your time on me. Okay? I wouldn't if I were in your position, at least. [Self-defeating, yes, but the truth as she saw it.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-09-18 10:05 pm UTC (link)

[For Sam, Silent Hill was chased by real fucking HELL. Ok, so her eyeballs still worked, yeah? But she selfishly thought there was worse shit. Ian, in corners and down hallways, in shadows and in nightmares, was pretty fucking bad. Whoever was related to him, whoever had been on the journals making threats and cooing good girl in written letters, that shit was bad. The fact that she couldn't go a few days without the gut-writhe of an addiction that was way the fuck out of her control, that was bad. Her stomach, and the way it clenched needles and tossed itself up every morning, that was bad. The fact that she really thought she would lose her fucking mind if she needed to face the reality of Ian and being locked up, the shit she'd done, if she had to think about that too long, that was bad. Yeah, maybe she could see, but she wasn't ok, yeah? Her hipbones and the jut of collarbones said that much, and she couldn't even let up or her head would spin out and she would grand mal herself to fucking death, and she knew it. So, yeah, shit was bad.

But Sam was trying really fucking hard not to wallow, yeah? She was here, in this pristine hospital, trying to help, to do something good. She knew it would help Neil if Meredith did better, and she knew Neil needed help making sure Meredith was ok. Not the money, yeah? The money was fine, but the rest. And Sam, Sam was fucking trying, even while she sat there, fidgeting and in fucking pain, tears welling as her ankle bounced, she was trying. And she knew Cris was trying too, yeah? She knew this shit wasn't easy for him. Ok, so she forgot when the pain came and gripped, but she knew this wasn't easy for him. She reached down, hand over the fingers on her ankle, cold and clammy, but there, fingers tapping against the back of his hand in that same reassuring tap, tap, tap.

And she was proud of him, yeah? For talking so calm. He was blunt, because he always was, but he was good, yeah? What he said was good, and she knew that shit had to be hard. And she was considering abandoning her chair and crawling onto his lap, because why the fuck not? Meredith wouldn't be able to tell. She was thinking it, but Meredith talked, said shit about the staff trying too hard, and Sam literally groaned.

Maybe if Sam was feeling better she would think before talking, but she was feeling like fucking shit, yeah? In her head, in her gut, in the ants that ran across her skin with their little legs. And she'd thrown light bright in the room with the open shades, but she could still feel that prick of hairs along the nape of her neck, the sensation of Ian somewhere, good girl, and she was trying really fucking hard to keep it together. And maybe if she'd been the one talking, she would have been able to. But it hadn't been her. It had been Cris, yeah?]

They don't try too fucking hard. It's their job to do what they do, yeah? Neil's paying them to take good care of you. And that's bullshit, about giving attention to people who want it. So, what? Everyone goes in, worried about your ass, to save you, and you give up? What the fuck, Mere. That's insulting as shit. Fucking fight, yeah? If not for yourself, for the rest of us. [She scoffed.] Waste our fucking time. Is that some kind of fucking joke? And what the fuck does that mean, you wouldn't if you were in our position? I don't get that. [She leaned forward, not that the redhead could see that, but her voice was closer, yeah?] You fucking fight. That's what you fucking do. [And her voice shook, whatever, because god there'd been SO MANY fucking times when she wanted to give up, yeah? Back when she'd been shot, after Ian, but she hadn't. She hadn't, because it would have fucked everyone else up more. It was some selfish bullshit, so thought the little blonde hypocrite who'd tried to slit her wrists and run into traffic. Whatever. She wasn't thinking good.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-09-19 01:46 am UTC (link)

[Cris smiled over at Sam when her fingers found the flat backa his hand and tapped out garbled Morse code there, and he was going for reassuring, but he caught those tears pearling on angel-fine lashes, and he reached for her. It wouldn'tna mattered if Meredith could see, 'cause he was gonna do it, regardless, 'cause it was what felt right to do.—He reached, and if she let him, he drew her onto his lap, against him and held her in his arms, against sweater with collar popped stupid. He kissed haloing blonde at her temples, soothing, but it wasn't selfless, huh? 'Cause he needed her right then too. He needed her close, some kinda tether in the emotional storm that was that hospital room just then.

He wasn't a wallower. Cris. He didn't stop, not for nothing. He moved on, and, sure, stuff stuck with him, it reverberated through marrow and bone, tissue and sinew, lodged in joints and ate at him from the inside, but he didn't wallow. Wallowing had never done anybody any good that he could tell. It was just mucking it up in your own misery, selfish, when there were other things to do, people who needed you, better things just beyond the next sunrise. It sounded sappy, but the guy was an optimist. After everything he'd seen and everything he'd been through, he was an optimist, and he knew him and Sam would get through this. Lou and Neil too. Mere too. Eventually. If they all just did their best to get there, if they helped each other, like Sam and Cris were trying to help Meredith now.—Nah, they didn't really wanna see her, 'cause it was no secret they—or least Cris—didn't like the pelirroja, but it didn't really matter. 'Cause she needed people and Neil was no good at being needed.

But, Sam groaned when the woman on the bed said something routine and stupid in response to Cris' question 'bout them being there, and the guy closed his eyes, annoyance on his face.—Black snapped open over black, though, when Sam started talking, the latent, thin blood in blown-out veins boiling quick. And he was kinda surprised, huh? Surprised and not. Not, 'cause she was already on edge. But surprised by her words, 'cause it was hypocritical. Cris wasn't judging her for that, he just hadn't expected to hear it from her lips.—His gaze shifted to Meredith's hands, where they wrung knuckles bloodless, and he pushed palm up Sam's spine, frothing fingers into her hair, seeking, seeking.]

People don't do stuff just 'cause somebody else would do it for them, if positions were reversed. [Brows knitted together.] We're here, 'cause you don't gotta be alone. You got people. Nobody hasta do anything alone, huh? Now, if you choose to, that's on you, but we're here, huh? I don't wanna speak for Sam, but me, nah, I don't wanna be here. I know that don't make you feel good, but you already know it. But we don't always get what we want. I know you know that too. [He looked at the bandages, then back down to her hands.] We're here doin' our part, you gotta do yours. Neil sucks at alla this, huh? He needs you too, as much as you need him, so kick him in the ass about it. [Like a little kid, Cris pushed his nose against Sam's throat and he breathed there, holding onto her. And he didn't say anything else about it.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-09-22 05:40 am UTC (link)

[Sam went, yeah? When Cris pulled her onto his lap, and she didn't even fucking fight it or worry about appearances or anything. The jonesing she'd been barely keeping under wraps, it was slamming against her ribcage. The stress of Meredith, the reality of the shit that had happened to the woman on the bed, the money burning a hole in her pocket, it all made the blonde sitting on Cris' lap start to unravel. Like a spool of thread, yeah? And she was bright red and undone. She curled against the warm and steady heat at her back, heartbeat reverberating through spine and skin, and she just needed to keep it together a little while longer. Just a little while longer, yeah?

Stupid tight, she dragged Cris' arms around her waist, and she wasn't thinking about the hypocrisy slipping between her gapped teeth like water escaping a spigot. And she listened when Cris talked, his voice soothing rumble and barrio, New York and Cuban, and it helped, yeah? A little. But he was being so fucking good. Even in his candor, the bluntness of the shit he said, and he was so much fucking better than she was. She knew it, and Silent Hill had driven it the fuck home. He was strong, good, and she wasn't, and for some reason that screamed and banked off that fucking rich hospital room's walls. She wasn't helping Meredith. She couldn't help Neil. She couldn't help Daniel. She couldn't even help Lou, yeah? Even Lou didn't want to be around her ass anymore, and how long was it going to be before Cris gave the fuck up, too? Look at her, yeah? She was a junkie yelling at a blind woman whose life was completely fucking ruined.

Cris pushed his nose against her throat, and Sam was jittery, twitching fingers and shaking ankles, and she jumped to her feet and dragged a hand through her hair, fingers catching on a hair-tie, frustration, yank, and the pain in her belly was a physical thing. Cold sweat, and yeah, ok, no, she needed fucking air. She needed a hit, she needed fucking air.]

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. [God, she was so fucked up.] Sorry. [And she backed toward the door.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

ex_perspecti86
2015-09-22 09:14 pm UTC (link)

[She didn't say anything for a long while, Sam's words sinking in, the truth laid out so plain in black and white by Cris. But even if she didn't say anything, it was pretty clear that there was something going on in that head of hers. Her chin dropped to her chest, words ringing harsh in her belly, something even she couldn't ignore. There was a large part of her, a huge part of her that just wanted to be alone. That maybe if she was alone long enough, she could just fade away, unnoticed, and all the pain, all the trouble and the difficulties and the frustrations that had defined life since the hotel opened its doors to her would bleed away into nothing and she'd just be free.

But that wasn't the case, not really. The people around her, even if they hated her, loathed her, weren't going to just leave her alone. Stubborn, the entire lot of them, even when they had every reason to turn their backs on her. But they didn't. They came. They visited, and her chest was tight in response.

She started to say something, but the words choked up in her throat, just moments before she heard footsteps, panicked apologies that didn't need to be said. She heard them and she reached out blindly, teeth chattering together with the emotions that shook her to her very core.]

Stay. Please.

[She wanted to be alone. She wanted to fade away.

She didn't want to be alone. She was terrified of fading away.

The two sides warred together and she reached towards the pair that had no reason to respond, but they offered, and she accepted, and the bandages at her eyes... they grew damp.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-09-23 05:48 am UTC (link)

[Sam was losing it, yeah? That junkie hunger gnawing, withdrawal pushed to sweat-damp skin with money burning a hole in denim. And, yeah, ok, so she'd been holding it together to get to that money, to get to that hit, but there was only so much her body could take. Her head, yeah? And she would sell every last fucking thing she had for a hit just then. She'd turn herself inside out, break T's piggybank, draw a fucking map to Joey's heart. Anything, anything just to ease that fucking pain that showed stark and bright anguish on her too-pale features.

She was caught up in her own shit, and she knew that made her an asshole. It made her an asshole, but she was reaching for Cris anyway, yeah, and she still didn't know how she'd get away from him to score, but she'd manage somehow, she HAD to. But, yeah, reach, and then Meredith talked, and it was like fucking ice water down Sam's spine.

Stay. Please.

It showed, yeah? On Sam's face, how hard that was to hear, because she couldn't turn her back on it, but her body fucking HURT, and she would be the shittiest person if she insisted on going, yeah? She stood there, trembling, and her hand dropped. She knew she was part of Meredith's downfall, yeah? Junkie clarity, hunger making her belly churn, and she knew it. She hadn't helped. If anything, she'd driven a wedge between Neil and Meredith, and that was before fucking him.

And it was fucking hard, so HARD, but she dropped back down onto Cris' lap, cheeks damp and so fucking close to scoring, and her head twitched, little jerks from side to side.] We're not going. [Her voice was unsteady.] And you can come stay with me when you're out of here. Ok? Until things are better with Neil.

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-09-23 03:11 pm UTC (link)

[Sam was jonesing too hard to be here. Cris got that when she practically jittered away from his touch, her leaping to her feet and tearing that hair tie from tendrilling blonde. He figured it out easy, the envelope, the money left by Neil, and now she was too close, she had to go. He felt the clamminess on her, just as she slipped outta his lap and started backing toward the door, apologies like a deluge from a dam gapped.—Cris had started getting up, forgetting Meredith in his concern. Sam reached for him and he reached back, his hand almost to hers.

The redhead's words had the same effect on the guy as they did la rubia. His hand didn't fall, not immediate, but he did look at the gringa in the bed, almost angry, a glare in beetle black and a frown, 'cause now? It had to be now that she finally listened to what they'd been telling her for months? It had to be now, when Sam's body was turning on her, all for the pricea that addiction tarring her veins?—He watched her. She shook. She came back, into the folda Cris' arms, twitching, and she was gonna seize up on him, he could tell with a sense picked up over time.] We gotta go. [He interrupted. He didn't care 'bout being the shittiest person, huh? He didn't care 'bout not hurting feelings. His sympathy ended abrupt.

He stood, sending that metal-molded chair scraping behind him, and he held onto Sam, scooped her up like she was nothing, feather-fine. But, her pain, he could almost feel it, twisting in his gut like a knife, acid bubbling up, and this just was bad timing.] It ain't 'bout you, [he told la pelirroja.] But, we gotta go. [He didn't apologize. He didn't think to.—He looked at Sam and he talked to her as he moved to the door, quiet, but quick. If he was shitty, so be it.] Ve al baño. Te veré allí. Voy a buscar algo morfina. Un poquito, huh? No me deje. ¿Entiendes? Espérame dentro.

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

ex_perspecti86
2015-09-23 03:24 pm UTC (link)

[We're not going. We gotta go. You can stay with me. It ain't about you.

The words tumbled over themselves in her head, even as her eyes burned beneath the bandages, her hand falling untouched back onto the bed, fingers pale and limp against the hospital bedding. She could hear Cris talking, steps moving towards the door, quiet, the words not for her, but for Sam. Something was going on, something she couldn't pick up on without sight, and they were leaving.

Meredith was in no position to make demands of anyone right then, so she simply nodded, the slightest bob of her head.]

Go. Take care.

[The words came out thick and quiet, and she tugged at the blankets, pulling them higher, that urge to disappear almost enough to drown in.

It wasn't about her. They weren't leaving because of her. She told herself that over and over again... and maybe they'd be back.

But she didn't hold onto that hope, instead rolling over onto her side, the curve of her spine towards them as she tucked back into the blankets and the mattress and let the world bleed back out around her.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-09-23 03:51 pm UTC (link)

[She'd let it go too long, yeah? She'd let it go too long. She should have found a hit earlier, but she thought she could do it. She thought she could hold out, and it was too late by the time she got desperate enough to give in. And it wasn't like Sam didn't know that song and dance, yeah? She knew. She fucking knew, but she always forgot. She always convinced herself she could do it, yeah? That she was strong enough to fucking do it, like willpower was enough or something, and she fucking hated herself for it.

Cris scooped her up, led her to the door, told her to go hide in the bathroom, and Sam didn't get it. She expected him to be like Lou, yeah? Lock her somewhere, make her dry out, but he was offering morphine, and she hadn't thought of that. Stupid, or whatever, but she hadn't thought of it, and she looked at him, twitch and surprise. But she didn't argue, yeah? Maybe that made her an asshole, but she didn't argue. It was right there, offered, and she couldn't make her tongue twist to tell him no. She nodded, but she did hesitate for a second.

Long enough to walk to the bed, her hands unsteady as she touched Meredith's hand light. She couldn't surprise her or anything, Sam, because her gait was unsteady-loud with her increasing tremors, and it was like her body gave up resisting with the money burning a hole in her pocket.] Hey. We'll find out when you get out. Ok? We'll go home. We'll get a nurse to come out. Whatever. You aren't going to be alone. I promise. [She meant it. Because she got it, yeah? She knew what it was like to love Neil Donovan, and to not have him be there. She got it. Even as Meredith rolled onto her side, Sam got it.]

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Re: Ocean's Eleven, PT: Meredith J/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-09-23 04:06 pm UTC (link)

[Cris watched. He stood by the door, arms empty, and he watched Sam go to Meredith, touch her hand, and as the gringa got what it was like to be here, alone, so too Cris got this was about Neil, alla it. It always went back to him. Anya the animosity between the two women, Silent Hill, it all went back to the guy, and Cris just wanted to leave. He didn't care about whatever martyr misery Meredith drowned herself in as she rolled on her side, and he was too old to care if that made him an asshole. He was who he was, and he wanted to help, sure, he always did. But, right now it was the desire to leave that outweighed even his empathy, as weighted as it was, tethered to leaden heart.] Ven, [he beckoned Sam, not moving from the doorway.

Take care. He really wished he could just go to the gym. Something. Anywhere that was away from here, where he could hit stuff and not have anybody cry about it. Maybe Meredith finally decided to listen, only to get spurned, but all the effort it took to get there, Cris had been carrying that alongside Sam, and with the burden unloaded, he could only focus on two things: Sam and how sick he felt in the pitta his stomach. He still couldn't stand the redhead. She made him thinka stuff he didn't wanna think about, her mouth around his cock being forefront. Maybe some mighta thought Meredith's trauma should win out, but that wasn't how it worked. Whatever empathy he had, Cris still couldn't forget that moment, and whatever pain Sam was feeling, it mingled with the seasick repulsion in the guy's gut.—He pushed the door open behind him, waiting for the blonde, and when she joined him, he put his arm around her, and he didn't look back into the room that held Meredith. He'd be sick if he did and nobody needed that, leasta all, him.]

Buscaré a una enfermera. I'll meet you, huh? [He kissed the sweat-dark blonde at Sam's temple and he pushed her down the hall with a palm to the smalla her back.] Go. I'll be right there.

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