Who: Mickey and Ganesh When: Sunday, July 11 Where: the Anhalt, walking What: Ganesh meets Mickey, conversation ensues Rating: PG Status: completed log
Of all the voices in Char's head, the one Ganesh was the most curious about was Mickey.
Not because he'd been told that Mickey and he had something in common-they did- or because Mickey was the "original" owner of the space Char possessed-he was- but because Ganesh liked puzzles and whatever else the four were, they were a puzzle beyond anything he'd ever heard of. And Mickey, of all the group, rarely came out into the open.
So Ganesh had decided to come to him, knocking at the same door every morning, a donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Eventually, he figured, he'd get the person he was looking for.
"Knock knock," he said, half-expecting a hand to reach out, snatch the donut and shut the door again.
Mickey sat on the bed, back against the wall, sketchpad propped on his knees. His hand moved across the paper with the soft scratch of charcoal, pulling the design from his mind. Victorian by inspiration, the house on the page wasn’t anything he’d done before. Nor was it practical, not in the modern era with land at a premium, but it felt right, felt like something he wanted to not only build someday, but live in.
At the knock and voice, he looked up, surprised from the sound outside his mind, where music and newsfeeds whispered at him incessantly. He blinked twice, looking at the small crack where the door was unlocked and open just a hint. Setting the sketchpad aside, he unfolded his lanky frame and warily opened the door, his other hand clenched, half expecting it to be him, looking for the other man inside his mind.
He relaxed slightly when it wasn’t. He couldn’t remember the name, until it slipped onto the screen of his mind, written in soft pinks and whites, showing fondness in font. “Ganesh.”
"Yes." Ganesh looked at Mickey curiously. "I've wanted to meet you for a while but I'm always bloody working when you're out." He said it as casually as he might have said "in the house," accustomed as he was to the strange habits of jokers. It was regular routine that struck Ganesh as odd.
“You’re Char’s friend.” A slither of memories slipped past, Char open and friendly and relaxed with him, and a frown drew his brows together as he pressed his fingers against his temple. Music in his mind shifted, giving him a song that matched the memories, loud and brightly clear, the new suddenly silent, and he winced at the volume of it. Still, he drew open the door a bit further and stepped back to let Ganesh in.
"Yes," he answered, this time more cheerful. "She's lovely and great fun to be around." He stepped inside, eyes glancing at Mickey's room. There were traces that it belonged to him now and not Char but signs of the other three were still present. "I thought I'd come by since everyone seems to think we have something in common. It's likely a case of what happens with Alec and I, people thinking that we do the same thing, but I thought I'd say hello... it does look like a cave in here right now, doesn't it? Mind if I open the window?"
“She’s very fond of you, too.” Mickey winced again, rubbing at the side of his head. turn it down i get the point. It took a moment, but the volume slid into a bearable range, although it didn’t disappear completely. It never went away.
He stood there, blinking slightly as Ganesh moved through the room, wondering if he’d been there before. Wondering why he’d been there before if he had. He nodded once, sharply. “Go ahead. You can sit there if you want. Andy’s stash is in the bench.” It was an attempt to be polite, to welcome a guest into his space with refreshment in his own awkward way. “What do they say we have in common?”
"We both like computers." He laughed. "It's 2096. Who doesn't?"
Ganesh settled himself on the floor easily, folding his legs as he looked at Mickey. "I know Char a little- we went out Tuesday, which was brilliant. She's got a fantastic voice."
Mickey sank onto the edge of the bed, hands curled over that edge, propping himself upright as his long legs folded back. “Jimmy won’t let me use the laptop. Afraid I’ll--” he twirled his finger near the side of his head in explanation. “Don’t really need it much, unless I need to use our network here. That’s not hooked up to me.” He blinked. “And shouldn’t be.”
He nodded as another swift flood of memories slipped through, and Mickey winced. “Yeah. She does. She wanted to perform.” Before he fell into her. Out of all of them, Char was the most completely accidental, and Mickey still felt that guilt keenly. He drew his legs up, heels pressed against the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around his knees.
"Yes, I'm sure that it doesn't need to be hooked up to you," Ganesh said easily. He noticed Mickey's face twitching and leaned back. "What do you do then? What do you like to do, any road?" Of all the four, it was Mickey that he heard the least from.
“I was an architect. Going to be. Dropped out.” Mickey reached out, picked up the sketchpad he’d been working with before Ganesh came in. “Computers are fun. A tool. I was good with them, but this... this is what I did.”
Ganesh picked up the pad, staring down at its surface.
The image on the page was a half-sketched Victorian-inspired home, sprawling and large, with hints that there might be more hidden behind if you only walked around the back. The grounds were barely sketched in, but gave the idea that it sat on land that gave it privacy. “I’d build it,” Mickey said. “If I could.”
"Why houses?" He asked, interested. His fingers traced the outline as he added, "This is beautiful. It reminds me of a place that's... lost."
“Always liked to draw, always wanted to make houses.” It was that simple, in some ways. The shape of them still drew him in, the way the arches worked, or the little details of the ginger bread. He liked to combine things, to change things, to fit them together in new and strange ways. “I don’t think it exists yet,but I don’t know if it could exist. Feels like home.”
"Home to me feels a lot smaller. The back of a shop, actually. That's where I grew up, running wild amongst packets of crisps." Ganesh grinned, then gently handed the sketch back. "Building things- I've been a builder. I'd rather take the dream and make it real." He was already constructing the house in his mind, out of Legos, one small block atop another.
“I grew up in the suburbs. With siblings.” Mickey remembered the chaos well, and how frustrating it had been to be the middle child. How odd it was after losing his twin, and how noisy it always seemed. Now he missed that noise, since it was different. External. “Building does take the dream and make it real. I could make plans for this. If we had land. We could put it up.” It was big enough that it’d fit the lot of them, but nothing was big enough to let Mickey get away from himself.
"We haven't got land, not exactly, but we've got this place." He studied Mickey's face. He himself would have gone mental in the situation, especially if it was like Char described it. "Couldn't you- do something here?"
“Like what?” Mickey wasn’t sure, exactly, what Ganesh meant. “Changing the outside won’t change what we have. I’m not... I’m not construction. Or interior design. I can tell people how to change structure to make it function better. Which walls to knock down. If we ought to move a hallway.”
He opened his mouth to say something and then he actually keyed in what Mickey was saying.
"You can tell people how to change structure to make it function better. Is that just houses?"
Mickey blinked, not quite following. Form follows function, function follows form. He rubbed at his ear, trying to push the voices away. “How do you mean?”
"This group." Ganesh said simply. "It's a structure. Or it ought to be."
“I--” Mickey halted the sudden silence in his mind save for the music startling. “I don’t know. That sounds like management. I’m an architect.”
"I'm not saying, lead. I'm saying, build."
Mickey shook his head. “Not sure I understand the difference. Leaders are the ones who make those decisions, how people fit together. They’re-- they’re people. Not hallways.”
"I don't know," Ganesh said. "Our receptionist at work seems to be better than anyone at knowing how we work. And she doesn't lead. But I didn't mean, tell people what to do. I meant... we need to decide how and where and oh, bloody hell, I'm not a leader either." He smiled at Mickey. "I'm not sure any of us are, that's the problem."
“Some of us are loud enough to lead,” Mickey said. “But that doesn’t mean they’d be good at it. We’re all soldiers and no generals. I--” he tapped the side of his head. “I’m not a leader. None of us are, and it wouldn’t work, we’re not consistent. Maybe-- maybe if I could get them out. Maybe that--” he winced at the noise that made in his mind, the anger from the others.
"If you could get them out," Ganesh repeated. "Into what?"
It was a question he'd pondered long ago- the reason that he had once decided to go into robotics. The question of making a place for those with physical deformities to go. And here was the practical application.
Don't think it, Ganesh told himself.
“Into--” Mickey was startled by the idea. “Never really thought-- they’re not real. They’re just... echoes. Stuck in here.” It hurt to think like that, ached loudly. “Part of me. She--” a shrug, sort of towards the door. “Sounded like she might be able to figure out a way to fix it.”
"What's real?" He asked. "Seriously, at what point does a mind become a mind?" His eyes bore into Mickey's face. What would Char say if she could live inside another body, however inhuman? Don't think it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't.
“They’re just echoes.” Mickey insisted. He slipped of the bed, standing up so he could pace, could move, as if he could somehow escape the whispers in his mind. “I... I stepped into them. I fell into place in their minds, synchronized with them. Took a piece of them, but they walked away.” The heels of his hands pressed against his temples, the whispers louder now. Angry.
Was that something that Mickey couldn't accept?
Ganesh's face reddened with shame. His hand reached out, offering comfort with a touch on his shoulder. "It's fine- I shouldn't have said anything."
Mickey flinched away from him, turning, hand out. “Don’t-- best if you don’t. I don’t want to,” his hand went from pointing to Ganesh to his head. “It was supposed to be an ace.”
"I'm supposed to be a joker," he answered. "I hope, at least. My card hasn't turned. It could be the Black Queen and then, where would I be? My father used to tell me, you play the hand that you're dealt, the best that you can."
Ganesh looked at Mickey, then said, "You here. Hiding. That's not the best."
“Why do you want to be a joker?” Mickey asked, bewildered. He took a step back, putting space between himself and Ganesh. As soon as he realized how close it took him to Jimmy’s laptop, he shifted direction, stepping away from that as well. “Hiding?”
"I'd rather be a joker than dead." Ganesh answered. "Yes. Hiding. We never bloody see you - who was it that accepted Katherine's offer?"
“Why wouldn’t you want to be an ace?” Stupid question, since Mickey’s ace was worse than nothing at all. Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did. And I’ve worked. I’ve done what she needed, I went into the place, I walked through walls. I do it when I’m asked. That’s what I’m here for.”
"I never really thought that I could be an ace. My parents were both jokers - it didn't make them any less." He shrugged. "Any road, it doesn't matter." Ganesh gestured at the door. "Do you want to go for a walk?"
Mickey considered the door a moment, then carefully started cleaning up the art supplies scattered across his bed. It wasn’t that he thought anything would happen to them while they were gone, or that somehow he’d return as someone else, but he just cared that much about these precious things. It had been so long since he’d been able to have something like this. When that was done, he looked around for his jacket, spotting it where it always was, over the back of the chair, but currently underneath Jimmy’s. “Sure. Just not with crowds. I don’t like the way the crowds--” he held up both hands, palms facing each other, and mimed them coming together. When people pressed in on him, he got nervous, as if he might suddenly go out of phase and slip inside one unwittingly.
"Crowds are nerveracking," Ganesh agreed. "No need for that. I hadn't thought of doing much more than walking down the sidewalk. I don't care for parks or any of that." He opened the door. "Mum always said that fresh air did some good." Mickey seemed the type who needed good, however it came to him.
“I don’t mind cities, but I’d rather be out in places where people live with backyards. Grew up in the suburbs with mom telling all of us to go outside.” Mickey smiled a little at that. “Why don’t you like parks?” He closed the door carefully after Ganesh stepped through as well, making sure it was closed as well as he knew Jimmy liked. Private.
"Too much open space. Nature. Bugs. Animals. People." Ganesh shrugged. "People, mostly. That's the worst bit."
His parents had tried to take him once to a park when he was younger. It had been horrible - all eyes were fixed on the three of them, staring at the jokers who had dared to leave their cage. He'd been old enough to understand what the looks meant and to feel the pain when most of the other children left the playground at the sight of his father.
“We had a dog when I was growing up. Mark--” he stopped there, then shrugged. “We took care of it, not my parents. I like animals. They don’t expect anything. But I don’t know what would happen if I--” No, not a good thought there, the idea of synching into an animal, if that were even possible. “I know why I don’t like crowds,” Mickey said, hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you?”
"People are... crueler in groups," was all Ganesh said.
Mickey nodded, because that made sense. “I was one of those assholes once,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know. Didn’t realize. Kids are stupid.” He paused, then added because he couldn’t apologize to anyone from when he was eighteen and part of a club of obnoxious Aces. “I’m sorry.”
"For what?" He paused, then added, "Hate isn't just about the wild card. Even now."
“I know, but we were Aces, and we were proud of how far we could push it. That’s how,” Mickey turned his fingers next to his head. “The first time. We thought we were better. We weren’t. No one’s better, or lesser. They just don’t realize it.”
"We- who's we?" Had Mickey been a part of something like this before? Ganesh blinked slowly.
“When I was in school, there was a club. Sort of.” Mickey cast his mind back, memories fuzzy from days before he had electronic space to store some of them. “We were all Aces, and friends at school. Just liked to push our limits. See what we could do. Teenagers. Like... like people who leap off buildings. Extreme. For fun.”
He was holding in what he wanted to ask, his breath caught tight in his chest for a moment, before he released it. "So.. what did you do?"
“Tested ourselves,” Mickey said. “Saw how far I could go through walls. How long I could stay underground without breathing. Learned about how I could walk into someone and hear what they thought, synch up with them. Spent a lot of time drunk, but... college.” He shrugged. “We could do anything. People liked to see what we did. Party tricks. We weren’t bad. But we were arrogant. Idiots. Cruel in what we said.”
An image flashed on his mental screen, and he winced at it. “No. No. We didn’t hurt anyone. Not like that. Char-- no.” The heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. “Stop showing me, I said no. We didn’t.”
"Showing you what?" Ganesh gently reached out and pulled one of Mickey's hands away from his face. "Char. Don't."
Mickey jerked his hand away, not wanting an accident. “Sorry,” he said as he realized he hit him by accident. But he looked, eyes wide, the images fading. “She-- got your point. I think. Violence. We didn’t. I swear, we just said things. Never-- we were arrogant S.O.B.s, that’s all.”
Ganesh was wincing, rubbing the eye that Mickey had swatted. "Does she do that to you often? Show you things? That must be bloody maddening."
“She talks. To me. Not all the time, but she’s-- she knows us. She--” Mickey didn’t have words for what Charlotte was inside his head, how she was different from the rest of them in how she handled their odd life. “It’s not always her. Sometimes it’s the music. Or the newsfeeds. Jimmy’s feeds. Always. Just. Talking at me.”
"You can't ever tune it out then." He'd known it but Mickey showed it more dramatically than the others. Ganesh sighed but started walking. He liked this part of the city, where the trees were all contained and the streets were lined with concrete as far as the eye could see. "Well. Can you distract yourself from it for a bit ever?"
Long legs found an easy stride walking next to Ganesh. It was strange in some ways being outside again; Mickey felt like he ought to be talking to people. Asking for odd jobs, trying to find a way to stay alive another night. He had to remember he had a place to live now. “It’s hard. It’s just-- there. It’s helpful sometimes.” A small smile flashed. “Photographic memory, but fuzzy. There was a camera on the device I--” hand to the side of his head again, because there really weren’t any proper words for what he did. “News, when we need it. Alerts. But it’s hard to tune out. Hard to forget. The music just is. The news -- Jimmy made it that way. So we wouldn’t miss anything.”
"Then why don't you have him make it back? It's clearly driving you spare." His foot kicked a rock a little bit ahead of his step, his eyes following it as it rolled into the gutter. It was cold for July and the leaves clumped against it were still wet.
Mickey looked over at him, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work that way. I can’t make him do anything. I can’t make any of them do anything. They just-- take over. I wake up, and I’m not there. Just them. Maybe me, maybe just a little bit. But mostly them.”
"Have you tried saying please?"
“Have they?” Mickey scowled, looking away.
"Someone has to say it first," Ganesh pointed out cheerfully.
Mickey glared at him, things clicking over in his mind. “You-- you’re friends with Char.” Insisting they’re real, pushing him to try to make deals with them. To compromise. “It’s my body. Not hers. Mine first.” He wasn’t going to let anyone push him out, make him let them have more space. More time. He lost enough of his life as it was to them.
"Yes. I'm friends with Char. I'm fr-know Jimmy's boyfriend. I can smell Andy down the hall. That doesn't mean that I mean you harm." He held out a hand. "Come on - there's no need to fight about it."
“Jimmy can’t have a boyfriend,” Mickey snapped. “It’s my body. Not his. He’s not real. He can’t date.” His hands flashed up and out, knocking Ganesh’s away. He didn’t like the memories, the images of Jimmy and Alec that were saved in his mind, that Char liked to see and he was sickened by.
"It probably wasn't your body at the time," Ganesh protested, trying to make what he'd said right.
“It is,” Mickey insisted. “It’s mine first. They-- they take it over. They push me away. They make me live their lives and all I want is to have mine back. I want quiet. I want to be alone.”
"It's... okay." How did you comfort someone in this situation? He didn't look like he needed a hug. "Maybe you can... just ask them to give you a break. Turn the radio off."
“How?” It sounded like a nice answer, but Mickey had no idea how something like that would even work.
"I don't know." Ganesh shrugged. "Push.. a button?"
“It’s my brain. There aren’t any buttons anymore. It’s all... part of me.” And Mickey had had eight years of fighting with it, and the furthest any of them had gotten was Char’s recent figuring out how to change the volume and skip songs.
The other man paused. "I suppose, you'll just have to do what you can then. Might as well enjoy the life that you've got. It's more than other people have." His eyes traced Mickey's figure. Two eyes, two ears, two legs, two arms... yes. It was a lot more.
"So what do you do for fun?" He asked.
That thought struck Mickey as funny at first. An old song came on the player in his mind, and he heard the echo of Char’s voice in the background, singing along. Mickey just smiled, rubbing idly at the bridge of his nose, waiting for it to tone down. “Didn’t. For a long time. Life’s been about... staying alive. Fed. Roof. Starting to figure it all out again. Used to like computer games, but they’re risky now. Can’t do the virtual ones. I like comics. Graphic novels.” Which brought out an honest smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually bought one, given his lack of funds until recently.
"Do you?" Ganesh's step skipped half a beat. Finally, something he could relate to the other man on. "I've got a box in my room- would have more except that I gave them to Maya. Mine's the old stuff though- the Black Eagle, Jetboy, that sort of thing."
Mickey looked over at him, blinking before a slow smile started. “I lost mine. Left them, when I left home. I like it all, old, new, whatever. Art and words work together. Who’s Maya? Can I read what you have left?”
"Yes, of course." The smile that returned was broad. "My room's always open. I really don't mind if you come in and borrow something- just mind the Legos."
He hesitated, before saying, "Maya's my ex-husband's daughter." There was no point in hiding it. Better to be open about it all.
“Legos? I like Legos,” Mickey mused. It took him a moment before he parsed fully what Ganesh had said, then another moment before he twisted his mind around how it might apply to him.
“You’re not Alec,” Mickey said quietly. “And Jimmy’s not the kind for more than one.” Which said everything that needed to be said there. Ganesh was fine, as long as he wasn’t dating someone who lived inside of Mickey’s body. “I’m sorry for your loss. Divorce is bad; so’s losing your family.”
"No, I'm definitely not Alec. Do you mind him?" The question came out before Ganesh could reconsider.
“Yes.” Mickey didn’t even have to consider that one, his shoulders hunching, hands driving deeper into his pockets as he curled in on himself, thinking of Jimmy and Alec.
"I'm sorry." Ganesh said though he wasn't, really. "But no fear, I've no designs on any of you. Other than friendship." He shrugged. "Any road, there's no point in fussing over what you can't entirely control."
Mickey relaxed at that explanation. He’d seen Char’s memories of spending time with Ganesh and had worried about it until recent revelations. “I can control it,” he said quietly. Not completely. Not easily. But he could certainly impact how things went. “You don’t like girls then?”
"Oh, no, it doesn't actually matter to me." He looked at Mickey. "I'm certainly attracted to them--Char's likely figured that out--but it's not about gender. I don't know. The wild card's changed even what that means, I think." Ganesh paused. "I've been with people who weren't even typical in that regard."
“People who weren’t--” It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t know there were jokers out there who weren’t male or female, or were something else entirely. But the idea of it made him shudder, tensing up again, the worst of it being that he could imagine waking up in bed with one of them. “It’s about gender for me. Glad you’re just friends with Char.” He gave Ganesh a sharp look, wincing when music blared in his mind; fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, his gaze dropped to look at the ground instead.
Ganesh shrugged. It was something that Mickey would have to come to terms with, he suspected, though how the other man would manage, he had no idea.
"Why?" he asked instead, curious. "Is it physical or-?"
Mickey shrugged, trying to ignore the music shift to some ancient pop song that came with the question. “I’m not attracted to anything but women. Anything else is just--” he shuddered again. “No.”
"I'm not saying it's wrong. I just wonder." Ganesh tilted his head. "How do you feel about jokers then?"
“I don’t hate them.” Mickey gave him a sharp look. “Sex is different than just getting along.”
"I didn't mean just getting along."
Mickey shook his head. “Don’t think I’m better than jokers. I am a joker. I can’t-- I can’t control who I am. Can’t keep a job. My ability steals-- it’s fucked up. I’m not afraid of jokers. I don’t have any for friends but--” he shrugged again. “Don’t have friends.”
You have three of them. Or you could have. But Ganesh didn't bother saying it. Mickey didn't seem the kind to accept anything outside of the world which he'd created for himself.
"There's a house that you're part of," he reminded instead. "It's not impossible, if you wanted."
“I’m here,” Mickey pointed out. “This is--” he turned around, walking backwards, looking in the direction of the house in the distance. “First time I’ve seen the same people, consistently. At the shelter, things still changed. Someone would come in, others would go. I’d wake up differently every day, and conversations would be forgotten. This is different.”
Ganesh nodded slowly. "Is that a good difference?"
“Yes.” Mickey thought of Alec, and scowled. “No. Still trying to get used to it. We’re-- forming attachments.”
"Would it be easier if those attachments were female?" He pressed. "Honestly?"
It wasn’t the things inside his head, but the concepts that made it ache now. Mickey pressed fingers to his temple, as if the pressure would help. “...I can’t be friends with the guy my body fucks while I sleep...” he finally ground out, the words painful to say out loud.
"Have you ever been friends with an ex's partner?" Because surely, there'd been someone in Mickey's life. He thought.
Mickey walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring at the sidewalk as he considered the question. He had to sift back through the years; he hadn’t been close to anyone in longer than he could almost remember. He pulled his hands out, ticking things off on his fingers. “Janine.” When he was sixteen, the girl whose door he’d walked through. “Stephanie.” The girl who’d thought Aces were hot and had done anything he’d ever wanted, the summer before his senior year. “Molly.” The girl he’d thought he’d loved and had spent his last year of high knocking himself out to get her to notice him, and after one date she’d refused to speak to him ever again for reasons he never found out.
His fingers curled, unable to count college, not really. He was a frat boy, a member of a club of annoying arrogant snobs. There’d been one-nighters, nothing he considered a relationship, half of it he didn’t remember. Then Andy had happened... he shied away from memories after that. “High school,” he finally said aloud. “We were all friends. Stephanie went out with Derek after we broke up. But Derek and I’d been friends since kindergarten. We’d all been friends that long.”
Mickey looked over at Ganesh. “Where are you going with this? It’s not the same as,” his hand flickered, up to his head, then down again, indicating his body.
"Maybe not." He shrugged. "But it'd make it easier to live with, if you could learn to adapt." Ganesh didn't understand it- spending your life in misery. Even he'd learned to live with Elena's presence- in fact, if he admitted it, he'd even come to like her.
“Maybe.” Mickey shrugged as well. It was different, because underneath it all, it was him doing these things. It might be Jimmy at the time but it was still Mickey’s body. “I ache their aches,” he muttered, which made sense to him as an explanation.
"Do you feel their joys?" He shrugged, starting the path to lead Mickey towards the Anhalt again. Perhaps the comics would cheer him up--Ganesh wasn't quite sure if he was inclined to it.
Mickey shook his head. “The physical goes between us; if one of them gets hurt, the next one feels it. But joy is emotional. That’s personal.”
Ganesh nodded, although he didn't understand, opening the door for Mickey to pass through. It wasn't right of him to judge what he didn't understand, even if all he wanted was to help. He tilted his head, then said, "That bit's too bad then. But let's not think about it now- come on. I've got a boxful of old comic books and an afternoon of time. You?"
“All the time in the world until I sleep,” Mickey said, “and a lot of reading to catch up on.” He never minded letting the subject of the voices in his mind go unspoken. They were still there, the stream of news behind his eyes steady and clear, Char’s whispers occasionally heard. He offered a shy grin. Maybe the comics would help tune it all out, for a little while.