Stuck up in the trees and nowhere to go.
Who: Kenneth and Bazzer When: Day 8-noonish What; Talk Rating: PGish Warnings: None
Things were beginning to dry out slightly, or at least Bazzer was. He'd taken his shirt and pants off in the hopes that they would dry a little better without him in them. He'd also moved over to the branch where Kenneth was since there was slightly better light through the canopy.Bazzer was never one to be body conscious or modest so wandering in the trees in his shorts didn't really bother him or make him think twice, despite the women around, one of whom was 15. He wasn't concerned in the slightest. "Any thoughts?" he asked the older man as he settled on the branch. This weather was...not good. Not at all.
Kenneth had stripped down a bit as well, jacket and shirt were off and hanging over branches near him as well as his pack with the items he'd retrieved. His boots and socks were inside his pack in some home that they'd be at least moderately dry in there. He had a strong distaste for wet boots, of course it was better than no boots. "I think it reminds me a lot of Thailand," he answered softly. "In which case, this is the beginning of the rainy season I'd bet and we really need to get somewhere with a roof before people start getting ill. Not that I'm trash talking the docs or anything."
That was less than reassuring. "Never been to Thailand," Bazzer remarked, though that really had nothing to do with anything. "Won't matter what Thorne does if he doesn't have medicine. Or if we can't heal because of exposure. Didn't you find caves maybe?" he asked, trying to think of something. The water and more importantly, the fish in it, did not look good. Not at all. "I've read a lot but...this is...very wet. I don't think I like wet."
Grinning, Kenneth nodded. "I'm not sure liking it or not will affect the rain itself. We did find caves about four hours walk from here. But there was no water we found. Or food." It was a toss up which would be better. They could always send people back here to get food. "I'm hoping that tomorrow whenThorne and I go out with a party, we'll be able to find shelter near those grazers and grain you both found. I think that would be ideal."
Bazzer nodded, his hair flopping into his face. "There wasn't much shelter that I noticed in that other field. Then again, I wasn't much looking for that either. I'm willing to try anything, but...I'm as much over my head as everyone else. Not much use for a librarian around here. I'm willing to learn if you can teach me..." he didn't know what he needed to learn exactly, other than 'everything.' "I'd rather not have the priest speak over my grave."
"Librarians hold the keys to all the knowledge in the world. I doubt that anything anyone knows is useless right now." Kenneth looked up at the other man. Bazzer had unbelievably blue eyes and there was something about him that immediately set Kenneth off balance. He didn't know what it was, but only because after over thirty years of repression and military brainwashing, Kenneth automatically shunted off any sign of attraction to men. "I'll happily teach you whatever you want to learn though. The more people with survival knowledge, the better."
"Sure, we hold the keys," Bazzer readily agreed, "but without the repository to house the knowledge we're about as useless as tits on a warthog. I specialize in preservation of old documents anyways, which is even more useless as there is nothing here to preserve except an old beat up paperback scifi novel and Meredith's algebra book. And with this rain, I don't think preservation is what they need now. They need restoration, which is not what I do," he sighed and smiled fakely, "Okay. Pity party done. I am serious though, about learning. Always am, but we need to survive. And who knows what might happen tomorrow?" If nothing else,Bazzer reflected mirthlessly, he was a survivor.
"Well, if we find anything that needs preservation, you'll be the first person I contact. As for survival?" Kenneth shrugged one shoulder. "Depends on what you want to learn. I'm pretty good with how to kill things, how to find edibles. Other than that? I'm just a solider." True, most of what he knew as far more relevant to how to survive torture, how to escape. It wasn't really knowledge for how to create your own new civilization.
Preservation...that sounded oddly familiar. Taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose, Bazzer tried to recall why that sounded significant. "Preserve...food and stuff..." that wasn't quite right, he was mostly talking to himself for the moment. "Hunting....skins! A ha!" thelight bulb came on and shined brightly. "I worked on a journal once that talked about preserving skins. Tanning hides. Might be useful...if I can remember enough of it," he replaced his glasses beaming that he had remembered. He read an awful lot and sometimes it blurred together. "Then again...this place is strange. Might not work."
"That? Would be very handy. Hold up." Kenneth got to his feet and disappeared up into the tree only to return a few more moments with a now very damp laugher hide. He settled onto the branch again and draped the thing over it. "I got this..I'm not sure what to do with it. I was bored last night and spent some time scraping most of the fat and flesh off the skin side. That much I know..but I have no idea how to soften the damn thing and unless I can do that, it's not going to be all that useful for us. If we can tan it somehow...then we can use it for a blanket...or something. Maybe get rid of the hair and use it to make a hammock? I'm not sure." Kenneth never had a problem admitting when he didn't know something. That was how people learned and for all that he was confident in his abilities, he wasn't arrogant enough to think he knew everything.
"Um..." Bazzer took the skin and looked at it, trying not to make a grossed out face. He was a librarian, he'd never handled dead flesh like this! "I think you gotta boil it. Um. Boil the laugher brain. Then let the skin sit in it....with stuff. Spices?" That sounded right..."Not sure though if we can. Need something big enough to boil it in, not sure how long it needs to be boiled or sit...I can experiment. It was an old journal manuscript, not a lot of specifics," even if he remembered them all it may not apply here anyways. There was only one way to find out though and that was to try. They needed to do something, especially if they were being rained on and such.
"The other laughers ate the brain," he said softly, "but, I guess whenever we get out to get the grazers the doc found, I can make sure to get the brain from that. Setting it to steep with spices sounds more like soup." Brain and skin soup didn't sound so appetizing to him really, although you made do with what you had. For now though, they had other skins and they needed some shelter and if it got cold, skins could help keep them warm. "I'll provide you with skins if you want to experiment on how to soften them." Kenneth stopped and laughed softly, "Yeah...that sounds good doesn't it? Colonel Gibson, Marine supply officer...your skins and brains guy."
Bazzer made a face and turned his back on the Colonel to fold the skin and hang it on the branch. He took that time to check and see how his clothes were drying too, "Better than Sebastian Vedder, mad scientist extraordinaire," he replied, turning around to face the other man again. "You kill 'em, I....experiment on them like Frankenstein." That sounded strange, but doable. He laughed at the image, "I wonder who my Igor would be then?"
Kenneth couldn't not notice the large tattoo covering Bazzer's back. It was impressive work, even Kenneth could recognize that. He might not have any ink himself, but he was a marine and he'd seen a fair amount of it on other people. His eyes followed the line of it from Bazzer's shoulders to the top of his shorts then a hint on all he could see of the back of Bazzer's thigh. That had to hurt to get done and Kenneth found he was surprised by it. Pleasantly so. However, he wasn't the type to go digging for information, so he didn't really comment, but filed the information away for later. Bazzer's comment earned another soft chuckle though. "I suppose it would have to be the doc all things considered. You two seem pretty tight." Kenneth stopped himself from saying anything more. He'd been an officer too long to make any sort of accusation like that easily even thoughBazzer was about as far from being a Marine as one could get.
"Oh, well, we..." Bazzer blushed, "He's nice," he finally replied. "Er, not that you aren't too, I just mean...well...fuck," the blush had increased to his ears now, "Not the same thing," he finally managed to spit out. He wasn't sure he should refer toThorne as his boyfriend per se and they were more than friends, at least in Bazzer's opinion. They hadn't had sex though. Bazzer had never had a boyfriend, he'd had girlfriends, but not boyfriends. Were the rules different? And Kenneth was in the military, so that was weird too, with their whole 'don't ask, don't tell thing.' Did that mean Kenneth would hate him? AndThorne ? That would be a bad thing, especially given the situation. "I don't kiss you," he blurted, then did his best to meet Kenneth's gaze levelly almost daring him to make a comment. He'd never really been one to deny who or what he was, though he oftentimes didn't know how to express it.
How they'd gone from who'd make a good Igor to Bazzer not kissing him completely and utterly baffled Kenneth. He blinked several times, looking at Bazzer as if perhaps he'd grown a second head or maybe even a third. Bazzer thought he was nice? Well, that was some consolation as so far that hadn't been his usual first impression, which in all honesty bothered Kenneth vaguely as he felt he was a generally good guy. However; now they were on very dangerous territory in Kenneth's mind. DADT was not the kind of protection most non military personnel assumed it was. It wasn't just don't tell, it was don't do anything that might in any paranoid person's mind mean that you might possibly have some tendency toward homosexuality because if you gave anyone a reason to suspect anything you were guilty of telling. And not just that, but Kenneth had been in the military long before DADT was enacted, where any suspicion didn't just get you discharged, it got your ass handed to you.
His entire body tensed and he looked back at Bazzer. "No," he said as calmly as he could manage, "you don't. I simply meant you and Thorne seem close therefore making him a good Igor. I never said anything about anyone kissing, especially not me."
"Oh!" If Bazzer could have turned himself invisible right then and disappeared, he would have, "Yes. Um. Except he's the doctor, so maybe I'm Igor? Or... I'm sorry. You're right. You didn't mention that. My mouth got away from my brain. Moves too fast sometimes. My brain I mean," he was really just digging himself in deeper. "You aren't interested in my crazy ramblings. I'll stop now," he very deliberately shut his mouth and hunched in on himself, pulling his legs up to his chin.
Kenneth watched as Bazzer backpedaled furiously then pulled in on himself. "Look, scout. You don't have to apologize to me. I'm not the type to gay bash or any of that other bullshit. If you two are a couple, that's cool with me. If you're not, that's fine too. It doesn't make me no never mind who's bunking with who. Anyone that can find some comfort and bits of peace or happiness in this situation? Great...it'll only make you stronger." He forced his muscles to relax and his heart to stop pounding so furiously in his chest.Bazzer hadn't accused him of being gay. That was the important thing. "And I don't mind your ramblings. Trust me. I'll tell you if you're bothering me. I don't fuck with people's heads."
It never even crossed Bazzer's mind that Kenneth was. He was in the military so of course he wasn't. That wasn't how things worked in Bazzer's world, not that he had any experience with this sort of thing. "Oh. Good. I've just never...I mean...I've always dated women. Not men. It's sort of different," but then was it becauseThorne was a guy or because Thorne was Thorne that made it different a little voice in his head asked. He ignored it. "I've never been picky though. I sound like a slut. Ignore me. Please."
"I'm not sure where you get the idea that you sound like a slut, but can I remind you...I'm a Marine. Trust me, I know sluts when I see them." Kenneth had finally relaxed enough again to smile a little, but his eyes still looked a little haunted. "I've been married four times. I'm not exactly great at the relationship thing. Obviously." Which was true and the saddest part of it all was that Kenneth still wasn't sure exactly what he'd done to cause his three divorces. Something about him being there but not there...or something. It hadn't made any sense to him at the time either. After all, they'd known what they were getting into when they married him. Then they'd suddenly wanted him to change and be more "emotionally present". Who the fuck married someone then expected them to change anyway?
"Four times?" Bazzer's eyes boggled out in surprise. "Really? Any kids?" that had to be hard on his kids if he had them, he was away a lot and perhaps permanently now and then step mothers and....wow. That would suck. He hadn't really considered anyone here having kids, but it made sense. Most of them were old enough that having one or two or more would be reasonable. That they didn't, or hadn't mentioned it anyways, was strange. "Maybe you haven't met the right girl. I think there's someone for everyone...but not always where you expect them to be," yeah,Bazzer was a hopeless romantic sometimes.
There was the briefest moment of grief that ran through Kenneth's face and then was gone. "No," he said quietly, "no children." At least, not any more. His only daughter, Kelly had died when she was eight when he'd been fighting in Dessert Storm along with his first wife. The rest of whatBazzer said was sweet if not a little misplaced. "I'm pretty sure I met the right girl." Kenneth had, she just hadn't lived long enough to get to this point with him. Something he tried awfully hard not to think about.
"Oh...but...four times?" obviously he was missing something. "Not my business. Sorry. So...um...watch anything good on TV last night?" he joked lamely. He had stuck his foot in something metaphorically speaking, but he wasn't sure what exactly. He wanted to ask and poke and pry, but that didn't seem to be a good idea. He knew how he would feel if someone poked at his emotional wounds and this felt similar.
"No," Kenneth admitted quietly, "just once. My first wife." He drew one leg up and planted it on the branch as his other leg dangled and he leaned back against the trunk. He should explain, he knew he should explain, but the words always just sort of stuck in his throat. "I. She...she died. Long time ago."
Bazzer nodded, "I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "My sister died. Not really the same thing, I mean, she wasn't the love of my life. That would be gross, but still. It wasn't really a good time," he looked away, lost in the memories for a moment, "It's not easy."
Kenneth knew that look far too well and wore it himself far too often. He reached out and gripped Bazzer's shoulder gently for a moment. "How long ago?"
"Um," Bazzer did some quick mental math, "15 years ago. She was 16," he didn't add that she had killed herself or he had found her or any of those other little details that sort of helped shape the mental picture. He didn't want Kenneth to think he was a headcase too, "I have a younger sister too. The one that died was my older sister."
Nodding, Kenneth wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't want to go poking at old wounds. "Doesn't really get easier. No matter what people say about the passage of time." Nothing really dulled the ache he felt at reminders of his daughter or his wife. Not the years that had passed or his other marriages. It was always just there, sometimes banked and other times flaring to life. He looked atBazzer. "I'm sorry for your loss." It didn't really help, but it was the best he could do.
"No, it really doesn't," Bazzer agreed, smiling at Kenneth wishing the other man's hand on his shoulder hadn't been quite so brief. "But at least...it gets easier to carry. You learn to deal with it and go on, even if it doesn't go away. I'm sure it is harder for a wife than a sister," part of why it had been so hard for him had been the manner. That he had found her. That he had been committed instead of being able to deal with his grief in a reasonable manner. It lingered. As an afterthought he patted Kenneth's leg, near his knee. He didn't want the man thinking he was coming on to him, but he did want to show that he was there.
Kenneth was almost startled by the return show of comfort. He'd spent most of the last year surrounded by marines and although he was used to offering comfort at times, he was seldom on the receiving end of it. "We just get better at pretending it's better," he offered quietly. There was too much down time today. Too much time just sitting and thinking and Kenneth was much better when he was moving and acting.
"Seems to me that people do that a lot. Pretending. We're supposed to grow up and give up games of make believe, but it's really how we live our lives, pretending to be cooler than we are or more masculine or less feminine."Bazzer shrugged, "Seems that people need to get over what they think others expect and just do what feels right to them. And here...now...I think we have that opportunity unless we're eaten by laughers. There are no rules, except the ones we impose on ourselves," it was sort of terrifying when he thought about it and he had more than enough time to think here. "I think a lot. It gets me in trouble sometimes."
If only Bazzer had any clue how true that was in Kenneth's case. How long had he been hiding his attraction to men? All his life really. He'd repressed it so tightly now that it would likely take a metaphoric anvil to the back of the head to get him to even see for himself that an attraction existed. In the back of Kenneth's mind was always the thought that maybe..someday when he retired, but mostly he realized that this was an opportunity that he'd never fully realize. He'd made a decision about the direction of his life and that was the way it was. "I don't think you think too much. It's the sign of an agile mind."
Bazzer shrugged then checked his clothes again. They still weren't dry enough, but he wasn't sure they would be in this weather, "Maybe, but it's possible toover think and think too much. Over analyze. That's what people always tell me and I think that sometimes, everyone might be right. It's rare, but it happens. So how did you decide to join the military?" he asked curiously.
"It was 1976. The Vietnam war had just ended. I didn't know what to do with myself at the time. I was from a tiny ass town and I wanted out. Couldn't afford college because my dad owned a little store. So I figured Marines were my best chance." Kenneth smiled slightly and shrugged one shoulder. "Never figured I'd make a career out of it, but turned out I made a damn good soldier. First time I ever really felt I was good at something."
Bazzer laughed, relaxing with Kenneth. He was a good man and didn't remind him at all of his father like he had first feared when he had come to the camp. Not that they looked remotely alike at all either. EvenBazzer didn't much resemble his father, though he was named for him. Bazzer looked like his mother. "1976, huh?" he mused, tapping a finger to his chin with a mischievous smile, "My parents weren't even married back then. I wasn't born until 1981. You're old," but it was said without malice. "If it's what you love...if it's what you're good at, then that's good. My dad, if he were here, would start ranting about the evils of violence and the military and whatnot. Government oppression. But I think you're alright," he really hadn't given it much thought.
Kenneth pulled a face at Bazzer when he mentioned his parents hadn't even been married then. "Yeah, yeah, I'm old. Could still kick the ass of most of the people in this camp though." For all that the words could've sounded like a threat, Kenneth was grinning far too much for it to be serious. "And if you start in about me being no spring chicken or falling and breaking a hip, I'm going to dump you over by that sunburned detective. Old my ass." Looking at the man shirtless, it would have been exceptionally hard to believe Kenneth's actual age.
He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and brought one leg up to rest on the branch. "I don't love killing people," he admitted quietly. "I was a sniper for a while years ago. I've been to college now. Got my BA in anthropology then went to the Marine War college and got a Master of Strategic Studies, Master of Military Studies and a PhD in Military History. I love history. I like knowing that I'm helping shape history and I like to think that despite of the reputation...I'm doing good in the world, even when I don't always agree with what the government has us doing. I think overall the good outweighs the bad."
Moving closer to Kenneth, Bazzer nodded, his legs swinging randomly from the tree. He knew he didn't look his 28 years. When the older man rattled off his degrees he whistled, impressed, "I have a BIS in language studies from UC Berkley, with a minor in Latin, a masters in library and information science with a focus on archiving & preservation from Columbia University...and I haven't decided if I want to get a PhD or not. Guess not now," he shrugged, not really perturbed about it. He'd decided that instead of pursuing a PhD he'd work a few years and see what that was like, now it didn't matter. "I don't think anyone likes killing people...except sociopaths," he glanced down to see who was around them and might overhear that. There were a few he wasn't too sure about, "And I don't think you're a sociopath. I'm good at recognizing the crazy. And avoiding it, I dislike the crazy," because he was locked up with them for years. Ick.
"History is good. The biggest reason I didn't get a degree in history was because I wasn't sure what I could do with it. There are historical librarians, but that's so narrow...I wanted a field that was more open and dynamic. Librarian sounds pretty boring and dowdy, and I did work in a library, but I worked in a laboratory in the library with chemicals and equipment and such. I didn't sit there and read or show kids theDewey decimal system. Wrong library, wrong librarian," people always had such strange notions about his job stemming from what they saw from when they were kids. "Sort of like the military I guess. It's not like what you see. People don't see my work really."
"I know exactly what you do," he grinned. "If not for librarians such as yourself, a lot of the documents from history would be lost. I don't think most people have any idea how much is owed to those of you that do that kind of work. Museums all over the world would be lacking if not for you." Kenneth rubbed a hand over his hair, brushing the accumulated dampness out as much as possible. "I think taking time to decide is a smart move before you commit yourself to more education. I've actually considered going back and getting another PhD myself. Probably in strategic studies. After all, that's the best way to avoid loss of life."
If it weren't for Thorne or Kenneth being rather straight, Bazzer would perhaps see if he was interested. But...he was seeing Thorne and while he knew Thorne was open to others, Bazzer wasn't like that. He wouldn't kiss someone else while kissing Thorne. And anyways, Kenneth was straight, even if he had an absolutely amazing body. It was really unfair, "A man after my own heart," he replied, then blushed. That had sounded awfully close to flirting, "About learning I mean! Learning," he repeated in case Kenneth hadn't been sure. Blushing, he smiled ruefully. It seemed that he was awfully good at getting himself into these verbal twists around Kenneth, which was really disconcerting to him, "My parents never thought I'd amount to anything and I like proving them wrong. A PhD would do that pretty well. They both have them, but the last thing the world needs is another Dr. Vedder. It would get too confusing. I like school though. Always did. Which is contrary to what kids are supposed to think, but there's always that one."
Kenneth had no idea what to do with that. The blush or the words or really...anything. Bazzer was a good man, that much he could see. He had gorgeous eyes...and there was something about that tattoo that tugged at Kenneth's mind, but the idea of flirting with another man caused his brain to shut down so fast you could almost hear the shields slamming down. He looked around quickly, but it didn't appear that anyone had overheard them. Having someone flirting with you was definitely grounds forsuspicion. "Your parents are both doctors?" A quick change of topic was definitely called for.
Bazzer nodded, hair flopping in his face and he pushed it out with one hand automatically. "Psychologists. Child psychologists specifically," he made a face, "They have their own practice in Chicago. That's where I grew up," but not where he lived now nor where he had gone to school. He'd gotten the hell out of there as soon as he'd been able. "No, I've probably not see whatever tourist attraction you're going to mention. I didn't get out much. And I don't visit either," he added automatically. Someone always had a question about a the city or a movie or something. Damn Blues Brothers. They weren't bad movies, but why did they have to be filmed in Chicago!?
Nodding, Kenneth smiled, "I was only there a few days once. Most of my travel has been outside the U.S, but I get the leaving home and not going back. I grew up in a tiny town in Oregon. Touristy coastal place. Never really been back since I was eighteen and joined the corps." Why would he? Nothing he'd ever done had been good enough for his father and the few times he did go back, all he got was shit for leaving.
"I wonder where people think we went...if they even noticed we're gone. I mean, I'm sure they have, but did they think we just ran away and where? It's strange. I go home once a year for Christmas or my parents raise bloody murder. They'd notice I was gone before then, but they'll just think I went crazy or something, living on the streets and muttering to myself or something,"Bazzer grinned crookedly, "They think I'm nuts. Then they get so confused when I don't want to go home. Crazy, huh? Not liking people think I'm crazy when I'm not...except now I probably do and sorry." Why did it always seem like he babbled when he was with Kenneth? It was horrible!
"Oh...they'll notice I'm gone," Kenneth laughed. "I'm sure unless time there has stopped...I'll be facing charges when I get back." Which wasn't something to laugh about really, but what else could he do? "Parents are often insane when it comes to their children. I'm sure my pop'll get around to missing me eventually." He didn't mind Bazzer's babbling, it was rather appealing in a way that made Kenneth uncomfortable.
Oh, good he didn't think actually nuts. That was reassuring. Just because he had told Thorne did not mean that he wanted to tell Kenneth too. Thorne was a doctor. Kenneth was not. It made a difference. "Yeah. A court martial would be bad. Or worse...we're all declared insane and locked up. That's worse than guilty. I could be guilty...maybe. If it was a choice between prison or an psychiatric hospital. I think I have a better chance out here on my own with the laughers than there," this was an incredibly depressing train of thought. "So. Anyways. Military history. Interesting. Any particular time period or war?"
Kenneth rested his hand on Bazzer's shoulder again briefly. "You aren't insane, sport. You're just in a very unusual and unexpected set of circumstances, just like the rest of us. However, given the choice between a court martial and being committed...I'll take the court." He couldn't disagree withBazzer on that one. Kenneth glanced up, "Looks like we're done with rain for today."
Oh, the weather. What a banal topic. Though it was a safe one. "Oh, I'm not insane," Bazzer agreed dryly, glancing furtively at Kenneth's hand on his shoulder and wishing it would stay there longer. A lot longer, he had good, warm hands. "But that has nothing to do with being here. I thought I might've been insane at first, hallucinating, but I've long since decided that this isn't a hallucination. Not unless it is a mass one and I rather doubt that," following Kenneth's gaze, he nodded, "Hopefully we're done with it for a while. Too many days of this and we'll have problems with food and stuff.Pneumonia."
"I don't think it's a mass hallucination," Kenneth agreed quietly. Every time he tried to consider what had brought them here, his mind smacked up against a wall and just refused to try and push past it. It was beyond anything Kenneth had every believed in. "Food more than pneumonia I think. It's not that cool, but it could get that way if we're heading into fall. Hopefully tomorrow we'll find some better shelter where people can stay dry and warm."
"Mmmm hmmm," Bazzer nodded agreeably, "No...I don't think it's possible for a mass hallucination of this caliber. Not sure if starving to death is more reassuring than drowning in your own fluids," he mused, "Morbid thoughts regardless. If we are headed to winter, that's a worry. We don't have the clothing or anything...and I don't know if it snows here, but snow would not be good. Do you have any tattoos?" he asked randomly switching the subject. He didn't see any on the man's torso, but that didn't mean anything. There were lots of places for tattoos on a person.
The rapid switch from weather to tattoos, confused Kenneth, but he shook his head. "Nope. Thought about it often enough when I was younger, but never actually got one. Yours is pretty impressive." Being a marine, Kenneth was fairly accustomed to seeing tats on people, but Bazzer's struck him as slightly odd. Angel wings. Large angel wings at that.
"What?" Bazzer turned around to look over his shoulder as if seeing the tattoo for the first time. Given that he couldn't see it, it was easy to forget about, "Oh! Right. Mine," he got quiet for a moment, introspective. "When my sister died...a lot of bad stuff happened. Anyways, the tattoo is a remembrance of her...and of those times. Because they shape and define a person, you know? There are 1004 feathers for 1004 days," he explained, though it wasn't a full explanation and therefore fairly cryptic.
Kenneth nodded because yes, death did have a tendency to shape and define a person and normally he wouldn't have asked, but Bazzer had brought it up. "1004 days of what and you don't need to answer that...unless you want to." Maybe it had taken a long time for her to die.
"I was hospitalized. Psychiatric ward. Which is why I keep thinking this is nuts. I'm nuts. I'm not though," he hastily reassured Kenneth, his approval for some reason meant a lot, "I was released later...misdiagnosis. 'Cept once you're labeled as crazy, it's not so easy to break. And everyone always wonders if that day you might go over the edge or something. But I'm NOT crazy," he reiterated. "And don't tell...everyone please.Thorne knows. That's it. And I don't want everyone to know." Despite pushing 30, right now, Bazzer looked much, much younger than his years, hunched in on himself, almost as if expecting Kenneth to judge him or something.
That actually came as a surprise since Kenneth found Bazzer to be a reasonably well grounded young man despite the occasional spate of babbling. Of course, that kind of babbling was usually a sign of either high anxiety or high intelligence and Kenneth had taken it as such. "Misdiagnosis hm? That must have been hard. I'm kinda surprised it took them that long to figure out they were wrong. That's close to three years. Were they just idiots?"
"Yes," Bazzer nodded, agreeing, though he didn't quite relax, he did force himself to look at Kenneth and meet his eyes. It wasn't easy, "I mentioned my parents were child psychologists, right?" he asked. He thought he had. They were well known and reasonably well respected. One day, he wanted to refute them, show just what horrible psychologists they were, ruin their reputations academically and professionally. If he ever got back. It was doubtful. "No one questioned their diagnosis. Schizophrenia. Which was stupid in the first place because you should never treat or diagnose family, one of the first rules of being a doctor. But they're psychologists, not psychiatrists, PhD not MD. Makes a difference. And the psychiatrists should have done their own evaluation and I don't know what happened. When I finally got a new doctor who realized the problem, it still took 8 months to get me released," those 8 months hadn't been that bad though in the grand scheme of the hospital. He didn't take any mind-altering meds and was left alone to do school work and such on his own, independent study. That was how he had managed to graduate from high school in a reasonable time frame. It hadn't been an easy time, but at least he'd been lucid and allowed to have his glasses.
"It shouldn't make a difference," Kenneth snorted, but he was somewhat stunned that two people that were that well respected could make such a stupid mistake with their own child. "Well.. you know what they say about child psychologists making lousy parents. I'm sorry, sport. That really sucks that you lost that much time because of stupidity." It explained a bit more though about the other man and his insistence that he not be crazy, not that Kenneth blamed him at all.
"No, what do they say?" Bazzer asked, a quirky smile on his face. It was a rhetorical question, but he wouldn't mind if it was answered so long as it was a funny answer. "You know what we need around here? A comedian. Or a jester. A clown. Something funny and entertaining. It's been too long since we laughed. I mean, really laughed," and it had. Sure, people laughed a little or whatever, but not a lot. "I missed most of high school, which isn't a big loss. I mean, it's high school, nothing important," he did feel a loss for it though. Such a brief period of time was so important in so many ways, even if it was both loved and hated. And people did love to hate it.
"I would have happily missed out on high school," Kenneth admitted. It had been a particularly difficult period for him. Rebellious and independent, his father being well...his father. His mother had died. "I made it through okay. Few black eyes, one concussion." Kenneth smiled over at him. "Got out as soon as I possibly could."
"I'd offer to trade, but the juvie psych ward wasn't really a fun way to spend time instead," Bazzer replied. He'd had nightmares from that place for years, if you weren't crazy going in, they made damn sure you were going out. All in an attempt to help.' "Most people aren't locked up as long as I was, they couldn't get the meds adjusted properly to release me. Amazing how having normal brain chemistry would make their meds not work so well," he snorted and rolled his eyes. People were stupid, "People would fight in the ward. I tried not to. Tried not to call attention to my self at all most of the time. Was beat up though in high school once, my senior year after I was out. For being crazy. Found out later there was a bet that I'd go psycho or something and when I didn't people lost interest in me," he had his little sister to thank for that. She had told everyone where he had been.
Kenneth had seen POW's that had been through less psychological trauma and the fact that Bazzer was here and willing to help at all brought him to a whole new level of respect in Kenneth's mind. It said something about the boy's strength of spirit and intelligence. Silent for a moment, he looked at the younger man. "I don't think you're crazy. You want to go see if we can bag any of those fish?" He'd had about all the sitting idle he could manage, even with great conversation.
"Yes, fish," Bazzer was fairly easily distracted away from things, especially things he didn't much want to think about. "Fish are good. So's not being crazy. But I think here? Being crazy might sometimes be a bonus," not really, but the thought had crossed his mind. Adaptability to strange and bizarre worlds would be a bonus for people. "I think too much," he added, which was obvious. "Fish now!" Slipping off the branch, he left his shirt there to continue drying.
Grinning, Kenneth shook his head. He left his shirt and boots behind, but shouldered his pack as he followed Bazzer down. Kid might not be crazy, but he was definitely intriguing.