Entry tags:

!complete, garrus vakarian, leliana, pete wisdom

Who: Pete Wisdom, Garrus Vakarian & Leliana (guest appearance from Guess the Fatso Cat)
What: Pete needs an intervention due to his downward spiral, and is given a glimmer of hope
When: Before the Shattered Sight plot
Where: Wisdom's townhouse
Rating/Warnings: Mentions of shady things and language, that's about it
Status: Complete!

Arriving at this particular townhouse without so much of a warning wasn’t something he had expected to do tonight, but he knew Wisdom was home - the pristine BMW was parked, they could see lights from the windows. The silhouette of a overweight calico graced the window, and the tentative sway of the long tail implied the feline was on a hunt. Some unwelcome house pest or maybe Guess had the plans to pounce something for absolutely no fucking reasons. Cats were typically dicks like that. Dressed casual with slacks and a pressed polo shirt, Garrus sighed, diving his hands into the depths of his pockets. “And all of it’s recent?”

“Very recent,” responded the slender redhead that had accompanied him. Black capris pants, a lavender quarter-sleeved shirt, Leliana looked awfully casual, not so much with the cute and quirky sense of fashion she typically pranced around in. Something a bit more mundane for the sake of an intervention, which was exactly what this was. Even if her hands weren’t dipped into the pot completely, some personal things remained to her attention. Anders and his progression with Justice, for one thing. Though she hadn’t been active keeping tabs on Wisdom, Rosa heard his name float around in a couple of questionable occurrences enough to concern her. And when she dug a bit deeper, well… “I think we are in the right to be very concerned with the path he’s walking down. It will only get worse, if we don’t say something.”

If they didn’t act as persistent friends to the man that suffered a loss. They’d all given him enough space, but perhaps the space they’d given him was too much - and Pete needed their presence, whether he liked it or not.

Garrus nodded, and it was him that rapped his knuckles against the door a couple times. For a second his eyes cut away, up the road - some of the cement had still been splintered, a ‘closed lane’ sign that hadn’t been taken down since the last day of the black storm. “Let’s just hope he’ll listen.”

Guess the fat cat was on the hunt, likely for a piece of lint or something (just to be a shit), and Pete was on the sofa - doing what he did best, which was killing his liver and his lungs simultaneously. He’d taken to smoking in the townhouse, something he never did before, not even when he wasn’t with Lina - he’d always gone out on the patio, but one day he just didn’t feel like it. And then that day evolved into two, and another, and another, and so forth, until the place began to reek of tobacco and toxicity clung to everything.

It clung to his insides too - he wasn’t completely lacking self-awareness about his proclivity for the more reckless, dangerous pools he’d more than dipped his toes into (more like bathed in). But he wasn’t an amatuer, and he’d handle it.

When he heard the knock, the cigarette was snuffed, glass of scotch set on a coaster, and the box of Chinese takeaway tossed onto the coffee table. It hadn’t really tasted right to him, nothing did, but god forbid he actually cook anything. Of course, when he opened the door (after checking surveillance, very thoroughly, to see who it was), he wasn’t expecting this particular duo to be looking back at him. Garrus was more likely than Leliana, whom he’d worked with here and there on whatever else, though he didn’t think Vakarian and her ran in the same circles much these days. Hackles automatically were raised.

“The fuck?” was his greeting, deep blue sea eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What’s happened?” He at least stepped back to let them in. The place was clean, fortunately, since he wouldn’t let himself live in squalor - honestly, if he hadn’t had the cat he probably would have. But it was probably considered animal cruelty otherwise, and he’d shoot countless questionable Shitbags in the face but didn’t have the heart to subject Lina’s cat to less than accommodating conditions.

“No threatening emergency, we assure you,” came Leliana’s response, though with the door opened and their feet carrying them in, she could smell the potency of nicotine and smoke. Like they’d walk into a cloud of haze they couldn’t escape. “Thank you. For seeing us.” A knowing stare passed onto Garrus briefly. “We know we did not call ahead.”

Wasn’t the first time he’d been around here, and him and Cindy actually called this place a temporary home when all of his baggage came crashing down in a burning blaze (sometimes literally). It wasn’t trashed, so he thought that as a good sign. The smoking, the scotch on the coaster - not so much. He’d cut back on all those vices before, quit smoking altogether - but mourning didn’t make carrying on with life easy. Guess had quit chasing the pointless fuzz, ears perked at the entrance of visitors, and quickly gravitated to Garrus to smear her fur on him because he clearly oozed the aura of cat lover. Puuuurrrr, purrrrrrrrr.

“Think we should all take a seat?” A suggestion, really, but he’d seen enough TV to know interventions were discussed while every party had their asses comfortably planted somewhere. So to lead by example, Garrus sat, and soon his lap was invaded by the fattest of cats. “Spirits, what are you feeding this thing?”

Pete looked visibly annoyed, but he sarcastically gestured to the living room furniture since it was obvious that his company had an agenda and wouldn’t leave until they accomplished that. Whatever it was. “Can I get you both anything?” he inquired, with just a bare bones hint of an edge in his voice and he didn’t wait for a response yet, just strode to the bar to grab himself the decanter of scotch and pour another glass. Sometimes he kept it in the bottle, sometimes he didn’t - but the high alcohol content of his favourite drink tended to keep the flavour stable anyway. This scotch was one from his and Lina’s trip overseas, and looking at the label...well, it was easier for him not to, let’s just say.

“She’s always been fat,” he said, with a gesture of the glass toward Guess - who had made herself comfortable in a warm lap, and might even start making biscuits soon since she had access to a pair of testicles at her disposal. “But, oh, I don’t know. Fancy Feast or whatever it’s called, what’s this about?”

There. He segued right into it. And was too cautious to sit himself down.

There may have been a not-so subtle exchange of looks between the two that did decide sit themselves down. Garrus, for one, had to carefully pluck the calico from his lap before his babymakers were subjected to cat kneading and he set her on the ground. No worries, Guess the cat then would proceed to lick at her own butt like any generic classy animal would do. “I think we’re both good,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “We wanted to talk to you.”

Leliana crossed her legs, fingers interlocked over her knees. “And without an alcoholic drink in your hand, to be frank. Considering your name’s been popping up in more than questionable antics, then we want to make sure that when we do talk to you, you’re lucid enough to understand where our concern is coming from.”

Garrus blew out a sigh, hands scrubbing down his face. “Pete. We’re worried. Really worried about you.” Maybe that’d help cushion some of the redhead’s bluntness. Aggression didn’t seem like Leliana’s style, and tonight he might be the less heated one out of the three. “Just...take a seat. This isn’t an attack. We really do just want to talk and try to help you.”

What the fuck?

Basically, you’d have to pry the glass of scotch from Pete’s cold, dead hand - and that was why he made a point to drain it first, to knock it back down his throat with a bob of the Adam’s apple, swallowing every last smooth, smoky, burnt cork drop. There. Then he set the empty glass down at the bar and took a seat in an armchair, though the way his fingers were glowing at the tips probably wasn’t a good sign.

Still, he could control himself. Could control his anger - he just took it out on those who deserved it, that was all. He was productive. “Why, what are you going to ask me to do? Talk more? Whine on the network more, make more drunk posts about how my life is falling apart?” Well, fuck that.

No one said he couldn’t smoke, which was why he reached for the pack on the table and promptly sparked one aflame using those glowing fingertips and a distinct lack of conventional lighter.

Those fingers were very noted, thank you, and the last thing either of them wanted to provoke was his place going up in flames like his reputation implied. Wisdom’s temper was volatile. His emotional state the definition of unstable, and that’d been clear from the amount of bodies that had littered that dank street. And whatever favors he was doing for some organization that had a less than sterling reputation.

Leliana opened her mouth to speak, and Garrus knew she’d go the harsh route - and maybe that was necessary, but they’d try his way first. “Forget the network.” He knew Wisdom, worked with him plenty, he’d been there on his worst of days, and Cindy may not have died, but he knew how the separation felt. Relentless anger that clawed them hollow, the anguish. “You don’t want to vent there, fine, can’t really blame you - but you can’t expect us to sit around and let you do this to yourself. Your our friend, Pete. And she’d chew our asses off if we didn’t try to stop you from hitting rock bottom with the path you're on. You want stress relief, fine, but when does it stop? When you’re dead?”

Garrus didn’t speak angrily. Didn’t speak with any intention of sounding insulting. Everything he said came from concern - he was worried about him.

“I’m not doing anything to myself,” Wisdom protested. Smoke drifted north, the scowl on his face evident as he puffed away on the vice he clung to in some sad attempt to keep himself tethered to the present. Many days, the thought of packing up and moving to England was quite appealing - at least if he did that, he wouldn’t have to be in this house everyday. Where he had lived with Lina, and where he’d watched her leave this sorry Earth. The reminders were constant and harsh, ripping open old wounds before they even had a prayer of healing.

He didn’t see rock bottom anywhere in his sights. And even if it was there, finally being cloaked by nothingness seemed to be a more appealing option than trying to figure out what to do with himself during the waking hours.

“It’s not just the stress relief,” he added, in a growl. “It’s because nothing in this world is right, or fair. What does it even fucking matter, what we do.”

“So the excessive drinking,” Leliana began, hands motioning over to the decanter of alcohol. “The excessive smoking. You recklessly shooting people up in a street with witnesses. You playing errand boy for a group with a questionable agenda. Is that normal for you, then?” All the reports that had crossed her table had been confirmed. Even one of her agents had been present during the shooting, actually tasked with kidnapping the man for another reason - but was intercepted by a crazy woman and a man ‘throwing fire,’ so they remained in the shadows to watch instead. Everything heard and witnessed reported.

Sister Nightingale had eyes everywhere, and when something of interest caught them, she’d always know. Always dig deeper. “Is that what she sacrificed herself for? So you can do all this? You don’t even know if this is permanent, Mr. Wisdom.”

“No,” Pete snapped, and he’d address the bullshit of ‘is this normal for you?’ in a second. But first he had to nip this false hope crap in the bud. “She prepared for it like it was permanent, I’m working on accepting it like it’s permanent, and I won’t be swayed otherwise - “ He refused, he refused to think that Lina’s sacrifice had been some easy sort of thing that could be fixed like it hadn’t even happened. That after everything, she could just suddenly appear one day and make everything better again. “It’s not fair to do that. You lot can conduct your rituals or whatever else you think is best, but I’m not going to believe in any of this nonsense.” It was like gutting him, it really was. Ripping him open and spreading his innards out for the world to see - talk about painful, to be clinging to that barest bit of false hope.

“Maybe it is normal for me though.” Puffpuff on the cigarette - no, it wasn’t normal. Lina wouldn’t want to see him like this, wouldn’t want to see him cracking and breaking down. “What’s the difference between doing a favour for a group for a questionable agenda and doing a favour for you, Nightingale? Some might argue that your agenda is a bit questionable as well.” That was his whole point, everything was shit and nothing mattered because everyone had an agenda, right?

Frustratingly, he stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray. His visitors today had come to him out of caring and, honestly, they were the first ones. Everyone else had been too wrapped up in their own grief and after he’d decided he couldn’t nanny everyone to make sure they didn’t set bars on fire or get into pointless brawls, he’d distanced himself too.

“I told her I couldn’t do this. And I was right.”

World War III, interrupting under the Wisdom roof - yeah, that’s exactly what they needed, and why Garrus had hoped to kind of take over the entire conversation but Leliana clearly had other plans. Poking the beast with hurtful words, riling him up, and sure, maybe Pete needed someone tough on him, but -

“Except I do not keep my agenda a secret to you, do I? You know exactly what you get from me, you know every single risks - could they say the same thing to you? And could you believe it?” Yes, absolutely, Leliana’s own agenda wasn’t squeaky clean. Filthy, stained in red, coiled in lies but those lies were never for the ones that worked for her, that risked their lives and willingly stayed under her payroll. She wasn’t her ex-lover, she was not Marjolaine, who would literally backstab everyone in sight before they even had an inkling to sniff out her real intentions. No matter what way she would take it, it’d get messy - Leliana would have people betray her whether she was harsh or whether she was kind, it was all part of the game, but she’d rather be kind to those following her lead than to give them a legitimate reason for hatred.

Now to take a minute to breathe in deep, because she did feel for him. Wisdom was in pain. It oozed out of him, the anguish in his voice was succinct. Grief was the price paid for love, wasn’t it? “You might not want to hear it, but you need to know - because Zee did try contacting her. To the other side, where the dead rest, and found nothing. There is hope, Pete, and it is not a false one. They say she’s fighting to come back.”

Color Garrus surprised, because not that he knew much of what went on in whatever Circle of Magic existed in Orange County. Give him guns, technologically related things to calibrate, a spaceship, but magic would always be foreign to him. Everything Leliana was saying seemed like it was nice enough to believe in, but even to him it sounded vague. Uncertain. He’d seen what magic could do, both good and bad and lately it hadn’t been anything good, but that was his inner pessimist speaking, ever present.

Still, he wanted to have hope, too. For Pete. “Maybe she did think it was permanent,” Garrus spoke, his calmness a bit of a break from the heated exchange between the two. “Maybe she didn’t know everything, or what to really expect after it was said and done. But not many people get to have a chance like this. And if they’re saying she’s not dead, then that’s got to mean something.”

The eternal pessimist in Pete wouldn’t exactly die easily either. He wouldn’t allow himself to be hopeful, because hope was just as dangerous as he was - as they all were. To give in to that, and then to have the fragility dashed? There was no telling what he’d do. Probably would do even worse shit than he was involved in now. Which was why he’d guarded himself against it, built up walls made of steel so that nothing would ease past, nothing slipping between nonexistent cracks.

“Maybe she’s not dead. And maybe where she is, maybe that’s even worse. Maybe she won’t even be back at all.” Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and he covered his face with his hands - tips of his fingers pressed to his eyes, because he was plugging up the dam. That’s what it felt like; he’d seen everyone else cry, at the memorial, he’d read their anguished posts. Their self-destructive ones. But he never could bring himself to say anything in response to those who were mourning, and he always held his own grief back.

He hadn’t cried since the night when she’d disappeared, and not because of some machismo bullshit that he didn’t subscribe to but simply because he believed, at the time, that’d he’d expelled all his tears anyway, what with the sobbing that wracked his bones. And it wasn’t even sobbing of that calibre now, just a sniff and little lakes of fire that burned, that he couldn’t hold back.

“I’m not even that good a person anyway, am I? I don’t know why you’d bother.” But whatever he was, he at least knew it wasn’t...who he had been lately.

Even if she’d acted like she was too busy licking all her weird kitty parts, Guess the Cat was still near - and as if she sensed Pete’s distress, she wove around his legs to rub up against them. Guess was strange. She liked to sleep in sinks and knock things over while looking at Pete dead in the eye and sometimes yowled at the window when there was a squirrel she needed to kill so she could feed her owner with, but she had her sweet moments. Purr, purr.

“There’s no good or bad people, Pete,” Garrus began, and he believed that. “Would be nice if things were one extreme or the other, but they’re not. We’re just people. Fucked up people with a bunch of fucked up problems, and sometimes we make good decisions. Sometimes we don’t.”

Leliana’s demeanor eased, and that tension her shoulders seemed to so terribly hold went away. “No one wants to see you lose yourself.” A concept she’d been struggling with herself. Gale, too. “We are here because we care. That is what friends do, no? Yell at each other a bit for the sake of your own well being.”

“And we can carry your grief with you, too without being babysat,” he added rather pointedly, because he’d been listening to some of the bullshit that had gone on and Garrus wouldn’t have any of it. Pete handled it more calmly than he thought, but he needed friends that wouldn’t bring them down with whatever fucking problems they had.

This bloody cat. She did seem to come by when he was distressed, as if she could ease it - and Pete sighed, giving Guess scratches behind the ears as a thanks. But that didn’t appease her fully, and she jumped up onto his lap. Probably wanting to find a good spot to knead, but first she settled her fat ass down while still silently demanding to be stroked and petted and loved on.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked, fingers running along kitty spine that was buried beneath tons of fur and blubber; Pete was genuinely at a loss. He’d never really handled this kind of grief before - people being ripped away from him, certainly, but that was due to their own choices to leave him in the dust. It happened with everyone he cared about but with Lina, they were actually planning a future. To not have that was...no word could describe that pain. It was the worst kind he could think of, which is probably why he tried not to think of it at all.

Now, that was certainly quite the question, wasn’t it? There were no right or wrong answers with that one. Simply, suggestions. “I suppose you take it day by day,” Leliana whispered, offering a weak smile. “Perhaps by eating something a little more healthy than…” The bag of takeout was still on the coffee table, and she peeked inside for a whiff. “Chinese. I doubt cooking has been your priority, but it so happens I have extra time on my hands lately. I can make you a couple things that are a bit more generous to your intestines.”

For Garrus, it was the waiting game. One he personally wasn’t fond off, and he couldn’t imagine Pete being all too excited about it either. They knew she wasn’t dead, then, but that still didn’t give them any answers - just more questions, and the none of the present company had the means to answer them tonight. “Day by day,” he added, echoing Nightingale’s sentiment. “She’s alive, Pete. We just got to trust the fact that she’ll do whatever it takes to come back. To come back to you.”

It required patience, but patience was more doable with a more steely sense of hope.

There were a couple of kind-hearted souls who had provided actual food for the grieving Wisdom, and he was grateful. But yes, for the most part? It was takeaway, mostly delivery, and going back to deciding which menu in the special kitchen drawer to select for that night’s sustenance. And he never even finished, usually just picked here and there so he wouldn’t have to try to sleep with a growling stomach.

“Suppose I ought to give my intestines a treat for once,” he shrugged. Of course, with Lina, he actually cooked more - the house was stuffed with real groceries, fresh ones, but it hadn’t been that way for weeks now. “I don’t think I can promise more than day by day.”

But that, the very least, was a manageable goal. Maybe it was all about setting small ones, and meeting them, so he didn’t drown in his own head.

It was a damn good sign that the walls hadn’t gone up in flames, Garrus would give him that. “That’s all we can ask of you,” he said, passing him a tilt of a smirk. They’d given him enough space. Maybe too much space, but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - let Pete spiral out of control. Not when there was still a damn good chance a miracle could happen, so if it meant that he’d be his shadow to make sure he was fine, then Garrus was prepared. It was what friends did. “Just prepare to deal with us on a more constant basis.”

Leliana chuckled softly. Guess was simply being a ham on Pete’s lap, sleepily content, pushing her face into his hand. “It’s settled, then. We’ll make sure your diet’s a bit more invested in long-term health.” As for the smoking, the drinking, neither of them had the power to convince him to stop all that - but she hoped, in due time, he’d cut back at least a smidge. Or that the lady of the house would return and hold him accountable. Fingers crossed. “Is this the part where we all hug it out?”

She looked hopeful (she liked hugs, they were having a very touching moment here), but Garrus passed her a stare to snuff out all hope. “No.”

Pete let out a rough, smoke-scorched chuckle. Vocal cords were nice and seared; he was back to the familiar timbre, the accent rougher and not as velvety smooth thanks to all the tar. “We can skip the hug, I’ve got to agree with Vakarian,” he said, a bit of amusement there. “Though I’m sure he’d like one from a certain calico pussy?”

With that, he passed the fat feline from his lap to his friend’s. Enjoy!

In all actuality though, he wouldn’t mind the diligent shadows. When one person fell, the other was behind you to prop you up until you could stand on your own again. He considered himself lucky to have such a thing, because not everyone did. And he wouldn’t waste that either.

Guess was startled from her eventual slumber that, when landing on Garrus’ lap, her claws had been exposed and - “Ow,” he growled, and then plucked the cat off to pass her over to Leliana. Whom accepted the kitty so graciously. “I’m actually trying to have a kid one day in the far future, Pete.”

“I won’t reject pussy.” Leliana’s grin came out a bit impish, yes, and she stroked Guess’ spine. The response was well-received, as the feline had arched her back and puuuuurred, accepting this human’s offer for divine affection. “She is a sweetheart, though. What’s her name?”

“Guess.”

“...Fluffy?”

Garrus looked wickedly amused and glanced to Pete. “You’ve got troll ammo. Use it wisely.”