terribly sorry, officer (baelfiery) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-06-12 11:12:00 |
|
|||
Neal had dreams when he slept, but not the dreams. These were just...strange. The air around him sweeping up electricity, lightning, reverberated back, a crackle within him - kind of similar to when he had the Dark One, his father, lurking around inside the swamp pit of his head and Rumple was about to take over. Drip-drop, a putrid stench, long pipes, those flies buzzing. The hum was familiar too, because when he’d been housing Rumple it was always there as well - a hum, whispers, something soothing telling him to embrace the darkness which protected him. Rumple was gone, but Neal had to face his darkness. The kind that he couldn’t blame his father for, because it was very much his own brand. The scent of apple-spiced desserts warmed the empty house. Apple cream cheese bundt cake, apple butterscotch blondies, and an upside-down apple tart. Regina had been by, obviously, insisting that she check on him and leave desserts behind. He’d been trying to eat but mostly slept. It was where he was now, passed out on the sofa to let his nightmares continue (the brain’s way of dealing with trauma) until a knocking on the door roused him. Grey pajama pants made of cotton, and a Henley, he was comfortable and barefoot when he went to go see who was there. After checking, of course. But it was just Garrus by the looks of it. “Hey. Come on in, and help me eat the apple orchard I’ve got in here.” Garrus had never had the luxury of being held hostage and tortured. Cindy had experienced it, though. For two solid weeks, she’d been moved around, battered physically and mentally, and it had taken a toll he wished it didn’t. He hadn’t voiced it, but every day there was a sense of self-loathing. Overtime it had minimized, only a small voice at the back of his brain, and he knew no amount of therapy, no amount of ‘talking about feelings’ would ever, could ever erase those memories. Months later, and it was still a reality for both of them. “Don’t know if that’ll pair well with the beer you picked,” he crookedly grinned, holding up the offering. Which was some of what Neal had bought the day he had been taken and some shit he’d gotten from home. “But as long as there’s no nuts or mangos involved, I’ll partake.” He stepped in, eyes doing a sweeping look over Neal - to get a feel for his mood, which seemed alright. Garrus knew otherwise. They weren’t each other’s best men because they were fucking pretty fellas. “Figured you could drink these, victoriously. I wasn’t there, but we need to uphold tradition.” “No nuts, no mangoes, I think you’re safe,” Neal smiled, though it wasn’t one of his blazing grins. Too much energy required, and he just didn’t have it in him right now. Everything was a mess and he had no clue where to even start to begin to clean it up, and you think he would, since he should know what was in his head. But he didn’t. “And I hoped I’d get to drink this beer eventually.” Heading into the house, he brought over the Tupperware container of blondies and set it on the coffee table so they could eat and drink like manly men. Beer was best paired with apple desserts, right? Neal’s gait was a tired shuffle; despite having the wounds like cigarette burns and potentially-infected cuts and scrapes healed, he was just rattled. His bones felt old. Gratefully, he flopped back down onto the sofa. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that Ruby kind of wants to 86 the wedding now completely,” he sighed. “Just do a quick ceremony and have a party later.” His tone suggested that he wasn’t really wild about the potential idea, and probably wouldn’t enjoy discussing it when or if it came up. No judgment on the house in a bit of disarray. If it were him, he’d say fuck it for cleanliness to for a bit. Snatching up a beer and twisting the top off, Garrus took a seat next to him, sinking and getting comfortable. “She’s a little rattled,” he said. “Probably not thinking too straight, either. I’d say give her a couple weeks and let her settle.” And if she wanted to just get up and elope, well. Up to them. That was something they needed to decide on. He’d be there no matter what. “Possible elopement aside…” He reached over, clinking their bottles together. “You’re not okay.” Oh, most people would ask, Are you alright? Nah, Garrus knew his best friend - knew that he was stubborn, strong, but still human. A human that went through some awful shit with awful people that literally bought s’mores to roast on his flaming corpse. Days of being underground, subjected to being stripped away cruelly from all basic human rights - it wasn’t a picnic. Nope, Neal sure as shit wasn’t okay. He was about five-hundred light years away from okay, which sucked, because he had been doing so well at rebuilding everything after the debacle with his father sharing a mind with him - two where there was only space for one. That had shattered the foundation, and loads of patience and therapy built it up again. Along with hard work. Where would he be now, after falling back however many steps? “Nah....” He took a long swig of beer, then grabbed a blondie to pick at it and eat in little chunks. “I’m not. I don’t know. Lina’s gonna blame herself but I don’t blame her, I blame them. And I’m not sorry they’re dead but the way I killed one...I didn’t even really use anything but my hands. I was just so done.” Pushed to the brink. People did things they never thought they were capable of, when forced into those situations. Garrus thought there was something specific bugging him, aside from being trapped and captive - he saw that look on his face that day, when he talked about the other two. Below ground, what the hell were their names? Tiddles and something else? He let that sink in, all while he formulated what to say. Killing, as much as he’d done it, wasn’t easy. Even when it came to filth that deserved it, getting rid of that image of their life slipping away wasn’t a skill he’d quite mastered yet. Weapons were an easy way to detach yourself from in. Not entirely. But it worked. “You did exactly what you had to do to survive,” Garrus confidently spoke, a hardened gaze landing on Neal. “They took you and Lina hostage. They threatened you, tortured you, almost killed you - it was either them, or you, or both of you, or her. Doesn’t take the feeling away, but desperate times call for things you never thought you were ever capable of. And it doesn’t make you a monster.” A monster. That’s what Neal was afraid of. Being the son of the Dark One carried a stigma, and wounds, and also what he felt to be potential - it carried through to this life even now, he felt it, made even worse by the presence of Rumple in his head. And he knew that he really didn’t have a choice about doing what he did, because it was all about survival, but it still rubbed him the wrong way. “I know...yeah...” He nursed the beer bottle, the thing clenched in his hands like it was a lifeline. Mostly he was just thinking, letting his mind wander. Which could be a dangerous thing. “You’re right, you are. I guess we all have the potential inside us...facing it is hard though. Seeing it in yourself is hard. Not to mention being held hostage really makes me lose hope in humanity.” The thing was, sometimes, people deserved to die. It was the reality of it. Garrus found that out the hard way. He didn’t enjoy death. He didn’t enjoy the killing. But sometimes it was the only way justice could be served - to stop history from repeating itself, over and over. If he hadn’t killed one of them, if they’d done things, say, legally? It’d still haunt them later on. Another harsh bite in the ass, maybe ten times worse. The system was flawed, justice hardly ever served because someone was always on someone else’s payroll. Straightening from his deep spot in the couch, he leaned forward with elbows on his knees. “It’s never easy. But you know what you did is hard. You know it was something you hated to do. And that, my friend, is the sign of humanity. “ Neal went back to nomming on the blondie. He was just going to be here, on the sofa, drowning his doubts and depression in baked goods and beer. Seemed like a nice way to deal with things, for the moment. “No, it isn’t like I got any pleasure out of it or anything...and in Chicago, I mean, shit. Gunshots were flying, I did what I had to do there too. I helped Lina clean up the mess in New York.” There was just something profoundly different about with your bare hands. It was true, the weapons involved really did help de-tatch yourself from the situation somewhat. “I just...I see how she felt now. You know? About how she killed her old boss, with the letter opener. It was brutal. But something inside her snapped, and that doesn’t make her a monster either,” he said, and had to take a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. Like plugging up the dam so he didn’t get pulled away by some black ravine current. “I wish all this shit didn’t happen to us.” A lot of shit did happen to them, all tied to either their upbringing, their career decisions, poor life choices. Unless you pursued life with every intention of swallowing and pissing rainbows, everything had its consequences. Small or big, and in their case, their consequences were gargantuan. Unless they were dream bleed overs, then they were just sort of fucked while they continued to try and build lives here. “Only so much a person can take under pressure and stress, Neal, and everyone - everyone - snaps in their own way.” Garrus may have lost it just a smidge when Cindy had been taken. Sure, she couldn’t die, it came with the Fable territory, but some things we worse than death. And not knowing what was going on, what they were doing to her, it terrified him. Took a toll as every day dragged on by. He killed a lot, then. Gunshots, blood everywhere - but to him, it was justice. He had to do it. So they wouldn’t come back for a round three, hurting her or other people he loved. Now he partook in a blondie, hesitantly sniffing it to make sure it didn’t have an ingredient that would kill him - and then in his mouth it went. “You’re in similar company. We’ve all got blood on our hands - and there’s some shame that comes with it. But you let this get to you, you let this simmer, and you let them win. Because in the end, all they wanted was to ruin you.” He didn’t want to let them win, no. And in the end, killing them was justified - they wouldn’t have ever stopped, they said so themselves. They would have gone after Ruby, and Pete, and other loved ones, and it just would have been a cycle of too much blood and lives lost. So what was supposed to happen, happened. It was just difficult to face. “It’s like I told Emma before, I mean, the situation was a little different but...my whole point was that sometimes all we’re left with are the wrong decisions. There is really no right,” Neal sighed. Because sure, killing was wrong - a life was a life, no matter how wretched it was. If you wanted to look at it like that. But what other choice was there? “Seems like we’re faced with those a lot,” he laughed bitterly. “Well...” Head tipped back, the rest of the beer was consumed, down to the very last drop. They never wasted beer, these Cuddlefish. It was a crime! “I’d rather focus on your wedding and shit. I get to still be your Best Man? Give the speech?” At least Garrus got him to talk about it. Voicing all the depressing shit, laying it out on the table, getting feedback - it was a therapeutic thing. It needed to be said. It wasn’t going to put a magical bandaid and automatically fix everything, but it was a start. A step forward from all those steps taken back in regards to his mental health. But fine, subject could be changed to something else, and it was one that caused a smile. The look of a man in love, don’t judge too damn hard. “I thought that went without saying, but consider this the official declaration of you filling into the ‘Best Man’ role. You know, the Normandy - the spaceship we were always on in the dreams - showed up? Shepard and I had to break into a military base to steal it, but it’s here, and Cindy’s thinking about a wedding in outer space.” How to explain that to both families. Maybe they could just lie out of their ass, say they were good friends with NASA? What? Wedding in space? “No fucking way!” Neal laughed, joy and disbelief all in one. That was the first good, amazing news he’d heard in awhile. “You should definitely go for that. Your families wouldn’t think it’s too weird, right?” Okay, maybe it was going to be a little hard to spin, but in that case, wasn’t it better to be honest? Or at least go with ‘let’s just say we live in a fucked up place, mom and dad, no details necessary.’ He was honored to be asked as a Best Man, however. Officially. “Well, consider this me officially accepting,” Neal toasted Garrus with another intact blondie. Which he would now rapidly shove into his mouth and eat in one go. “One kick-ass bachelor party for you, coming right up.” Yes, a wedding in fucking space. Call the bridal magazines, that’s something they’d want to chew and swallow up. And Garrus wasn’t against it, actually - the Normandy could be a good venue, the sights would be breathtaking, and it did have its own lounge for more private gatherings. Shepard expressed interest in being the officiant before the engagement became official, and with a little more discussion with his bride-to-be, he’d ask. “We’ll make up something to tell them,” he assured, because their confusion wouldn’t be a deterrent for Cindy getting the wedding she wanted. And Garrus was easy, he was there to nod and echo her approval. Unless, again, she got weird. “But it feels like yesterday, you were in the hospital with a bullet wound and we were discussing about getting roots in this place…” Nostalgia was interesting, wasn’t it? All of them had come so far. His relationship with Cindy all started with that war machine of a Pumpkin Carriage. Now, wedding bells were in the air. Tying the knot, commitment, it wasn’t a terrifying concept for him. He’d actually been looking forward to it. Was that odd for a man? It was very similar for Neal as well. He wanted a family, and he wanted to get married and settle down - finally without the threat of something like the apocalypse or mafia debts over his head. Okay, so in the OC, the apocalypse was a real thing but he would just take the lack of criminal masterminds hovering over his shoulder from now until forever, thank you. “We both were kinda wary about putting down roots and look at us now. Buying houses, learning about long-lost kids - “ Or just one kid, in his case, “...weddings in space,” Neal grinned, leaning back, balancing feet on the edge of the coffee table. No one was here to tell him to take them off. “It’s a trip. But I’ll take it, despite everything.” Another clinking of their bottles, then, a toast to that very same sentiment. “Despite everything,” Garrus agreed. This place knew how to hurl some shit their way, attracted all kinds of terrible things that took a nice chomp out of their behinds but they stayed anyway. Roots were dug in too deep to just pull out and get out of dodge. “Speaking about long-lost kids, weren’t you taking a trip to see yours?” Kids you weren’t aware of having were officially a thing when it came to their reality. Not his, specifically, but he’d be involved in any way that’d help. Considering the child in question was an integral part of his dreams too, finding out about him must have still been a damn anvil that hit hard. It would be physically painful to pull these roots out. Neal couldn’t do it. As much as he cursed the OC, and really loathed everything about it and what the place had done to his psyche, he still just couldn’t peace out. A weird situation, but he’d found home, he’d stick with it. He’d have to see how everything with Henry turned out, now that it was clear Fate was smoking some high-grade hash. “We are, yeah, soon,” and he couldn’t help but sound a little excited about it. “Emma really wants to go, I think. She was kind of terrified of the idea of acknowledging those maternal instincts before but I mean, fuck, she was younger then. Her own shit wasn’t together. The dreams just kind of lit a fire under her ass. And Regina’s always felt it, especially about Henry. It’ll be good.” Neal rubbed his jaw, thoughtful. “Good for all of us.” “Complicated as hell situation you’ve got there, my friend,” he expressed, a hand going to sympathetically pat Neal’s shoulder - though don’t mind that somewhat bemused look Garrus had. Mostly because he found it funny (in a strange, fucked up way) how things just worked. Not that he was religious, and Turians had their own theology that sort of bled through (saying spirits as an expression instead of god a lot, for example), but nothing he grasped onto in blind faith. He couldn’t deny there was something there. Some intangible force pulling some invisible strings behind the scenes, or maybe that’s just how the metaphysical dominoes of destiny fell. Up for debate, yet he doubted anyone really ever figured the entire phenomenon out. Empty beer bottle set down, he took a glance at the house. “Now, with that said, I’m going to help you pick up a bit. Might help the shitty mood lessen. But I’ll play househusband for you, for a minute.” Househusband. How adorable of his Cuddlefish, and well, it was good of him to come over and provide human interaction for awhile - clearly Neal would have done the same if the situations had been reversed; besides, he was the one there cooking up Gates of Hell chili for Garrus and making sure he took care of himself when Cindy was MIA. So, you know, it comes back around. Favors returned. “Guess the mess has to be cleaned up sometime,” Neal admitted, with a huffy laugh. He stood up and stretched, joints popping, oxygen to the brain, muscle squeezing more blood to his bruised and battered heart - alright, now he could tackle the actual cleaning. Not like he enjoyed living in a place that was in disarray because his mental health was shit, and because he was too tired to do anything else but rest like a slug. “Alright, let’s do this thing.” |