capriciousdrop (capriciousdrop) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-23 06:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, peisinoê van der zee, thaddeus ealain |
Guilt is a good friend isn't it?
Tad wasn’t Jewish or Catholic, but he had the guilt idea down perfectly. Nearly 20 years in the military, including active duty in a war zone and he had never shot someone and he was out of the military and had not only shot someone he cared about, but had killed people. He was less bothered by the ones he killed actually, that was defense and he had warned them. It was regrettable, it was horrible, but....he did not feel guilty over that. He felt guilty over Peisinoê. He’d shot her through the shoulder, a clean shot, she would likely make a full recovery, but he couldn’t get her face out of his head, laying there as he tried to stop the bleeding and give emergency aid until they could get her into surgery, for the doctor to come repair the damage he caused. The damage he caused. There was no amount of flowers or cards or balloons or anything that could fix it. Even with a full physical recovery, she had the mental trauma, trauma he’d caused. He couldn’t undo that. He couldn’t make it right and it was eating him inside. Knocking on the door to her house, he held a bag full of single-serving meals that he prepped, all she would need to do is put them in the microwave. At least then she would be eating healthy, good food while she recovered and likely couldn’t cook. He was sure her sister likely assisted too, but she had a job and well....well, food was always appreciated, right? He hoped. Peisinoê had a rough week, all things considered. One didn’t realize, even after years of medical school, how many muscles were connected to one’s shoulder. How often one needed your arm and how even small gestures, like picking up blankets could hurt because of the pull, or how even leaning back against the seemingly soft couch could cause a shockwave of pain. That, and the fact when she went to go to sleep at night she still heard that man’s voice in her ear, threatening to break her neck. The smell of him and the restriction of not being able to breath properly, not being able to reach for one of the few gifts her kind had on the Surface, and of pain that she couldn’t even see coming, which may have been the worst part of it, honestly. Parthenope had taken a few days off, but eventually Peisinoê could not deal with more of her sister’s fussing and had texted Eddie, convincing him to badger her into coming back. Parthenope knew, not just because she had the Sight but also because she knew her sister and her breaking points, but had gone back anyway. It didn’t stop her from answering the door at least, even if her hair was in the same braid that it had been put in that morning before Parthenope left, unwashed but at least neat looking, fuzzy penguine pajamas and one of her numerous UCLA sweaters. For a moment, when she opened the door, she tensed, “Oh, good afternoon Thaddeus.” It wasn’t that she was angry with him, or afraid, clearly, it was just the last time she had seen him — well, anyway. The last time she had seen him he was telling her things were going to be fine (and they were) and supporting her as they put her on a stretcher. She could compartmentalize that. Had to. Doctors had to learn that early, and her earlier than most. He had sent flowers and whatnot to the hospital, but hadn’t been able to get up the nerve to show his face in case it went badly. Nothing worse than hurting a patient while they were still in the hospital. “Hello, Peisinoê,” he said formally. It was his day off, well, he hadn’t yet returned to work if he was being honest. He needed to get his head together first. Regardless, he was dressed casually than he did at work, but nicer than his usual day-off attire. It was likely difficult to tell with his winter coat and such over it all anyways. “I ah, I brought you some meals you can freezer and reheat when you want them. And....I wanted to see how you were doing, though, I understand if you’d rather not see me.” Oh. Her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand, admonishing herself inwardly for not really noticing them at first. She was usually attentive to detail, but perhaps she had been more caught off guard by the sight of him than she had realized. Between the flowers that were still on the table in the living room, enjoying the sunshine and thriving in a way that showed they had been purchased in Summerview instead of from mortal store, and the food, she was beginning to think Parthenope was right when she voiced concerns about him. She had suggested that they check on him but, frankly, Peisinoê hadn’t been sure how. And she was still at a loss, but she also had manners, and food was always appreciated. So she stepped back and opened the door further, “That’s very kind of you, and I mean. I’m going to have to get used to it, right? Not that, shit.” It wasn’t often that she cursed, leading the way past the dining room filled with sea based and landscape paintings along with Star Trek and MST3K posters down to the kitchen “I’m not mad at you. Really. I’m a bit tense but it’ll pass.” The smile she gave him was sincere, more self deprecating than insulting towards him, with a vague air of discomfort that was a mix of having a new person in her home while she was a mess and having it be someone who she didn’t know very well up until he had shot her. For a good cause. But still. Feeling equally as nervous, Tad followed her inside, taking note of the decor in passing. Normally, he would have asked her favourite Captain or if she enjoyed Space Ghost back when it was on TV, but he didn’t say anything now as he followed to the kitchen, “Nice place,” he finally managed, undoing his coat and shoving his gloves in a pocket. “I ah, it’s all vegetarian and fish-based meals, salmon and whitefish,” he said, setting the bag on the counter and pulling out the containers, “I heard you didn’t eat meat.” A sweater or three was hastily grabbed off of the counter and dropped on the dining room table. Because even the ‘upper class’ were prone to just a moving the mess mentality at times, “Thanks, please ignore any vulgar cross stitch left out.” Not that Parthenope seemed to be bothered by people seeing, and she didn’t really mind either, usually, maybe it was nerves that made her apologize. Curiousity had her poking her head in the bag, “Oh, did you make all of these yourself? That’s so impressive! Thank you, yes we’re mostly pescatarian, very considerate of you.” There were a couple of interested noises and ones of excitement too as she shifted through the food, peeking in at them to get a closer look before starting to grab the bag so she could load them in the freezer — And tried to carry it with two hands, flinching and nearly dropping it with a sharp breath. Damnit. By the time she adjusted she would be healed, that was one of the most annoying parts. So instead she opened up the freezer and decided to load them in a few at a time, “We ate all the chocolate you sent on the first day so, hopefully we’ll be able to ration these out,” Peisinoê told him with a quiet laugh, “I didn’t know you cooked.” Moving without thinking, Tad dashed forward to make sure she didn’t drop anything and then stepped back again when she didn’t, letting her do for herself. “I uh, don’t, much. But if you eat it all, I can make more,” he offered. He wasn’t much for cooking, he had bought all the containers especially for this, as well as the ingredients for the food. The recipes had come from the internet. Tad could follow a recipe to cook things, but he didn’t cook often just for himself. It wasn’t something he generally enjoyed and eating the same meal over and over rarely held appeal to him except for a few specific dishes. Instead, he kept breakfast foods at home and sandwich and salad fixings for lunches and dinners were either whatever piqued his interest after work or sometimes he even skipped the meal, if he wasn’t too hungry. “And send more chocolate. Whatever you want.” Guilty much? Very. If Parthenope had been there, then she would have caught onto his guilt as soon as she stepped into the room. A bit of The Gift, sure, but her Twin was naturally Intuitive, most of their people were, really. Peisinoê had just missed it and never really tried to fix it, personally. In her defense, loading up the meals in the freezer pretty much one at a time and organizing it was distracting and frustrating. Though she did still notice how odd the answer was, “You don’t need to go out of your way — I’m already making Parthenope anxious and putting her out as she takes care of me.” More than she needed to, really, but Peisinoê felt bad for making her sister so tense, so she had been trying not to bite her head off as she hovered. Peisinoê took a deep breath as she pushed the freezer drawer closed with her foot, and adjusting her sling, “Are you okay, Thaddeus? I’m not very good at this but uh, you seem like you might be the one that needs chocolate? I have some sleeping potions I’ve been taking, I can give you some?” Mickey had made them, bless him. It might have been a little awkward to reveal the fact that she had been having trouble sleeping, but even she could tell he was tense far and above how he usually was at work. He shrugged, not looking at her now, “I do though,” he murmured, “I shot you! Ten years in the military and I never discharged my firearm outside of training simulation or range. And I shot you!” Yeah, he had some guilt. The details surrounding why he did it, did not matter, “I should be begging for your forgiveness! And worse, I shot other people! I... “ Tad trailed off, he hadn’t meant to blurt things out like that, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting my issues on you. I’m so, so sorry and don’t know how to make it right.” Peisinoê didn’t even think about it, she reached out to his hand on her counter and held it tightly, “Better I was shot than dead or worse.” Comforting wasn’t her strong suit, especially when someone felt like they had wronged her, worse when she felt like they hadn’t. Usually the people she was actually mad at didn’t see it that way. Her other hand reached out so both were holding one of his, “Thaddeus, I’ve already forgiven you, I should be thanking you. Have I already? It was a bit chaotic after.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure, and she may have actually snapped at him. Peisinoê wasn’t always nice when she was in pain, be it hungry or, well, shot. “Food helps. Food is always helpful.” She forced out what was probably an awkward laugh, but that was kind of her default anyway. Science, mathematics, these were the things she could discuss at length, but the Philosophy behind killing in the defense of others? She could not offer much insight on, and for once, she really regretted that. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t, he didn’t actually remember and he wasn’t sure it mattered. Nodding, he agreed, though he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. Tad had been aware that this was a possibility when he had gone into the Navy of course, but he had been out nearly 5 years now, he hadn’t expected it now that he wasn’t deployed. Even in his time in Afghanistan, he had never been in combat. He had barely even left the base other than a short trip to another base where he had ridden under guard along with the medical supplies they were delivering. “I’m not hungry,” he admitted finally. Had he eaten a proper meal since everything had happened? He didn’t remember. He didn’t remember much, actually. This wasn't what she had expected when she opened the door, but would have done it again even if she was uncomfortable and out of sorts. The memories of that day were back in the forefront of her mind, far sharper than she had wanted them to be since that day. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Other than maybe letting his hand go, but it almost seemed like if she did then he might fall apart right in front of her. “I just needed to make sure you were okay, that you are being taken care of, have what you need,” Tad tried to explain helplessly, “Not that I doubt your sister or anything, I just...I needed to see.” For himself. Now that he was here, he desperately wanted to get away, be anywhere but there. She was fine, clearly. Healing. Now he knew that. He could go figure himself out now, focus on sleeping properly, eating, doing the things he needed to do. She was okay and improving and if she could, he could. “Okay.” Peisinoê replied, calmly, unsure of exactly how to handle this. Her own trauma (though she was hesitant to call it that, because that made it more real) regarding this situation had largely been dealt with by trying to stay distracted and taking potions to make sure she didn’t stay up all night hearing and feeling things that weren’t there. It wasn’t the healthiest method of coping, perhaps, but at least it kept Parthenope from worrying too much. Hopefully. “I’m fine. Getting better by the day. I haven’t been back to the clinic, but uh, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” Probably part of the reason she was able to be as unbothered by seeing Thaddeus was that she hadn’t seen him the moment he shot her. Just the noise, the pain, the realization that it was her coworker instead of an enemy. “I haven’t been either,” he admitted, “I tried to go the other day, just to pick some things up, but....” he hadn’t made it inside. All he saw was the bodies on the floor, the terrified looks of his coworkers, of Peisinoê, all of which was replayed in graphic detail with bizarre touches when he tried to sleep. Keeping busy was a better idea, but only in relation to trying to help. “If I were still in the Navy, I’d be sent to counseling. Pharmacists weren’t exactly front lines. Guess I should take that advice here and now,” not that he wanted to. Counseling hadn’t occurred to her. It should have, really, they were fairly open about that sort of thing back home, but she had hoped (perhaps naively) that if the potions fixed her nightmares and Cohen fixed her body then she was fixed. But if she hadn’t even come within three buildings of the clinic since it happened then...She probably wasn’t fixed, was she? Her throat felt dry so she used that as an excuse to turn away from him, grabbing them both glasses and getting filtered water from the filter in the door almost mechanically. Tad’s was slid in front of him as she sipped at her own, finding that it didn’t really help, “I suppose you’re right. I should call my parents, I’m sure they can recommend someone trusted by the Family. But that requires telling them why. Then they’ll want us to return.” And for a moment, in her voice and expression, it was clear that the idea actually had some merit — safe and protected seemed so much better than being snapped at by angry patients, irresponsible vampires, or shot. What if it had been Parthenope? “I don’t think running away somewhere else gets you fixed,” Tad replied, sipping his water gratefully. The water was blessedly cool on his throat and he didn’t realize how much it helped until he was drinking it. He downed half his glass almost immediately, “Leaving because you want to go, you have a job opportunity or something, that’s one thing. It’s on your terms. Running won’t help. I might be messed up about what happened, but I know running isn’t the answer. And I know that’s not your style either,” he didn’t know much about Peisinoê personally, but he knew enough from how she was at work. It wasn’t. Or maybe partially, after all, she had run away to Summerview to get away from her parents, and dragged her sister with her. That may be a little different though, and wasn’t even that uncommon on the surface from what she had seen. “So what is the answer? I’m guess you’re going to say it isn’t sleeping potions.” The last statement was as dry as his throat had clearly been before he started inhaling the ice water, which she could relate to, honestly. “The Doctor who stitched me up mentioned something about self-defense lessons.” Peisinoê added, almost as an afterthought. “Sleeping potions probably aren’t, but they sound like a good idea to me,” he admitted wryly, “I’ve used Z-quil to try to get more than a couple hours, but I dislike it,” Tad thought people had a tendency to over-medicate and self-prescribe (and that included doctors), so he was wary about doing much himself, especially now when he recognized he was compromised. “Self defense classes might help though. Krav M’ga is the best one, though you’d likely have to go to AC for them. I did it for years, amongst other things.” Not recently, but he was pretty sure the muscle memory was still there. Peisinoê didn’t really have much shame or reticence when it came to what she was doing to cope. Not only because it wasn’t the first time she had used magical aids in her life, but because she had been so awful the first two days. It was definitely worth it, “My friend is a Water Witch and he makes them, I’m sure they’re much better. I can share?” Without thinking about it she was automatically reaching under the counter into one of the drawers to pull out a notepad and a pen. She flipped a few pages in until she got to a page that was already labeled Surface Integration, and writing down his suggestion, “Do you know who I would speak to?” He shook his head, “I haven’t kept it up since I left the navy,” Tad admitted, “but I could look into places and go to classes with you if you wanted? I make a pretty good practice dummy and I have all the pads and stuff still.” That sounded like an excellent idea actually, maybe exercise would help. And the sleeping potion, “I would like to try your sleeping potion, too. Not too familiar with them, but so long as they aren’t addictive...” She tried to imagine herself in combat classes, or throwing around Tad, and it was an image that couldn’t quite come into focus, like a building in the far distance. But then again, she had never been very imaginative. They were right, she needed them, so she would have to figure it out, “That would be, what is the phrase? Killing two birds with one stone? We could both be more prepared at ease.” His acceptance earned him a relieved smile, “It’s not, I took it when our home had to be — when we came here.” The morning was full of dark enough thoughts without her bringing the Plague into it, “And I was fine stopping.” Peisinoê held up a hand to tell him to wait there while she headed down the hall, making a mental note to text Mickey and warn him she might need more as picked up one of the mason jars he had brought her with a ridiculous sleeping cat on the top of the lid. It didn’t take her long to return, handing it off to Tad with careful hands, “Just a spoonful before bed, it only kicks in after you lay down, unlike mortal medications.” Magic was so much better, in the end, at most things. Having a doctorate in pharmacology meant that things like tinctures and potions made by witches made him twitchy. It did not however mean that they weren’t real. He might not understand them, but he recognized their legitimacy when they were made by people who had that sort of power. This was no ‘love potion #9.’ “Thanks, I’ll give it a try,” he agreed, standing, “I should let you go, rest some more. Let me know when you can start classes though and I’ll go look into it.” He did feel better, not perfect, but a bit. “I will.” It felt so much better to have a plan, even if it still required some research and time. A plan was a plan, and it helped. The food was a welcome pick up to the day as well, Parthenope would be thrilled. “Thank you again for the visit, and the food.” He seemed a little better for it to, and she fought the impulse to hug him as another thank you for saving her life, and worrying about her. But she had learned not all Surface people were as affectionate as they were in her city, so she contented herself with smiling at him before taking his glass to the sink, “You’re a good person Tad. Maybe this worked out, since it is giving us an opportunity to be friends?” Instead of coworkers that passed each other saying hello in the hall. |