wedonot | FIFTY FIVE ✖ VOICE/SPAM

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FIFTY FIVE ✖ VOICE/SPAM

Mark and I have been discussing making ourselves available to anyone who feels that they need someone to talk to in a more traditional, therapy setting after what happened with Toshiko taking control of the ship. It doesn't require warden permission, and anything discussed will be considered entirely confidential, unless we believe there's a direct threat posed to yourself or to others by not saying anything.

[And he hesitates a beat before saying anything else, because lol does he feel like a hypocrite for saying it.] I know it isn't easy to talk with someone about this sort of thing, but you don't have to cope with it on your own. That goes for wardens, too.

If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask.

[Private to Anya]

You neglected to mention the wise and gentle advisor was a monkey. [But he sounds more amused than anything else, really.]

[Private to Felix]

[This is considerably harder to get into, and there's a part of him that's almost resistant to try, but guilt ends up winning out as it usually does.]

I wanted to apologize for how our conversation went the other day. Toshiko's actions tore open a few more old wounds than I'd like to admit, and I wanted to step away from the conversation without- [Making it obvious how badly he'd been fucked up. :v

He cuts himself off, frustrated with not just being able to brush this off, and not wanting to make it look like he was trying to make excuses.] I should have articulated myself better and I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to seem like I was being dismissive.

[Spam for Erik]

[Charles set the comm aside and put his head in his hands, pressing the heels against his eyes and just trying to breathe. It was stupid, to let a teenager - and one known to be obnoxious and prone to exaggeration - get under his skin, but he was so tired of people accusing him of having some sinister motive when all he wanted to do was help people (even though he couldn't help Morgana, he couldn't help Erik or anyone, really), of suggesting he'd use his ability invasively without asking permission, and Chris throwing the fact that he'd looked up to him in his face had caught him off guard.

And how messed up was he for feeling guilty about that, that he wasn't the person Chris wanted him to be, when Chris was the one who was overreacting?

He hated it here. He wanted to go home. At least there, it felt like he was doing some tiny amount of good, compared to here where it felt like every time he opened his mouth, he just made things worse.

Darwin had said that he gave people hope. He didn't think that was true anymore. It felt like the Barge - or probably more specifically, the Vanquish - had twisted and broken something, something vital, and no matter how hard he tried to hold the pieces together, it just kept shattering as soon as too much weight got put on it, or if he dared to let it try to stand on its own.

He didn't know what to do. He was tired, and angry - at himself, at the Admiral, at everyone, really - and scared, because he felt helpless and damaged and he didn't know how to fix it, and God, that's all he wanted. He wanted to be confident and self assured and happy-

He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to pack everything away and not have to deal with any of this, and so he clenched his teeth and kept just trying to breathe, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his lungs to expand and contract, trying to just think of calm, find that place of serenity.]

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My boundaries. [He repeats it with an odd twist of anger, his voice sharper when he asks:] Then what would you have done if I hadn't stopped? If I had done what I should have done back on New Caprica?

[There hasn't been a day since he found out the truth about Gaius that he hasn't regretted not pulling the trigger then. It's possible that there hasn't been a day since he put the gun down that he hasn't regretted it. He's tried... how many times since to kill him? Two? Three? Four? And thwarted every time by so-called righteousness. By the wardens in his life. He scowls.] Would you have stopped me? Or her?

Of course I would have stopped her. [And the fact that that's even a question makes Charles remember Felix hadn't really known him at all even when he'd been here before, and maybe this whole thing was just an enormous mistake.] And yes, I would have stopped you. I don't believe killing people on the Barge does anything but perpetuate a cycle of violence. And unfortunately for both of us, as I was paralyzed at the time, I didn't have much of a choice. It's a bit difficult to physically pull someone off another person when you can't so much as wiggle your toes.

[That's not the only thing Charles could have done; they both know it, and Felix isn't sure what to do with the fact that he won't even admit to it as an option. He stares at the screen for a moment, brow knit, eyes aglow.]

You can't have it both ways, Charles. Either you would have stopped it, or you wouldn't. Couldn't. You didn't. [And that's where the real disgust comes in, and where the heart of all the anger really lies.] Cycle of violence? Like letting her beat the frak out of me because I wanted a shred of justice for my entire race? But you, you wardens, you didn't want to listen to that. No one wanted to talk about that big a crime. Even the Admiral got rid of him eventually, and silently -- why? Because it was too embarrassing to keep him there, circling the drain and pretending to care about his own genocide?

You think I liked having someone like that on board? It is a crime, and the idea that someone like that could be brought here is frankly terrifying, because it does beg the question where does the Admiral end up drawing the line? [And let's just say he'd be leading the march on the bridge himself if Shaw ever showed up on board.]

But killing Gaius wouldn't have changed what happened, and unfortunately, most of the other people on board wouldn't care what he did to you or your people, or how Sarah reacted to it, they would have just seen you as the aggressor against a man in the infirmary. That isn't fair to you, and it certainly isn't fair to the people he killed. That's not justice at all, for you or for them. It wouldn't have brought them back, and it wouldn't change that the Admiral saw fit to bring him here. I did listen, I am listening, we just don't agree on what the correct course of action is. That isn't the same thing, Felix.

[He rubs his hands over his eyes.] I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you when you were here last time, and I'm sorry you don't think I did enough to tell Sarah she was out of line. I tried, I couldn't force her to listen. I don't know what you want from me, but I'm offering to try and make up for it if you're willing to give me another chance.

Oh, I understand how people would have seen me. She made that more than clear. You act as if I'm not used to that. I don't care about that.

[He does, though; it hurts that this is his legacy, a treasonous madman, some angry lone voice in the wilderness. It hurts that every attempt he's ever made at making things right has only made him more hated. It hurts that the only one who's ever understood why is the person who made him like this in the first place.]

I want-- well, I want back off this frakking ship, frankly, but I know that much is even out of the realm of mutants and mind control. [He's quiet for a second, still radiating anger and tension, but seriously considering the question.] I wanted justice. And I wanted an advocate. No one knows the truth more than you do. No one knows more about me than you do.

You did have an advocate in me. You still do. [And he means it, even if there's a huge communication issue here, and even if Felix is still going to be playing the mutant card here.

It had been so much easier with Tony, in that he hadn't really cared what Charles could do. He still treated him like a person, not some adversary just waiting for the right moment to crush him under his heel.]

We didn't - it's likely we still don't - agree on how things should proceed, but that doesn't mean I think you're a monster, or that you deserve to be seen as the villain in this scenario, or that it's wrong that you want justice for what happened. Far from it. But I don't think it's just to have everyone here write you off as just another madman with a grudge to settle, and that's what would have happened if you had succeeded in killing him because people here are too often ridiculously narrow minded. It's not fair to you or the people he killed, and maybe you genuinely don't care about yourself, [And he wasn't sure he believed that.] but I know you care about them.

[Narrow-minded, he notes wryly; he really doubts he's not on that list in Charles's mind, and realizes with a grim wrench that he doesn't really care if he is. He would have, once, but... it's like he said, isn't it? There's a kind of safety in narrow-mindedness.

Besides, he's not so sure he's the only one here.]

What advocating? All I hear from you lately is I know you don't care about blah blah blah and I know you don't want to hear such and such. You write off half the things I say before I even say them. And then you're not even right about what you think it's going to be!

And I've apologized repeatedly. A lot has happened since you were here last time, Felix, and quite frankly, I'm not the man I was when we were first assigned. I didn't want to continue arguing with you about what should or shouldn't be done with Toshiko because what she did effectively forced me to relive the days I spent being tortured and experimented on by hostile aliens when the Admiral lost control of the ship. I wasn't thinking clearly and I'm sorry.

I'm not just talking about that. When I tried to talk with you about the robots... you've been doing it since I got back.

[But he's calmer, less angry and more reasoned, because the truth is, he can understand that much: how bad a turn things can take in a year. He wasn't Charles's biggest fan before, but the dismissiveness is newly unpleasant. He knows that for all he himself has grown up, there are parts of him that are far less kind in the wake of everything the Cylons put him through, too.

He sighs, suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose.]

You know, the funny thing about that -- I didn't give much of a frak about who was in charge of the ship until war-- until people started sweeping up after her. You said it yourself: she made you relive something the Admiral did to you. I have a pretty good guess about what would have happened to me if I'd gone down there. [Charles has the Vanquish; he has GeneCo.]

[Charles almost drags the soapbox back out, because he's just tired of people jumping to conclusions about people who were different, of assuming that because they could hurt them that they would, and even if Felix hadn't intended that with Aya and David, he'd done it with Charles, and so had plenty of other people. He'd watched it happen with and to other people on board, too, and he was tired of it.

He gets as far as opening his mouth before changing his mind, because that's the problem, really. He's tired. Tired of feeling useless and like he couldn't actually help anyone, like maybe he hadn't really done any good in his time here.]

I'm sorry. I'll be more aware of it in the future.

[There's a part of him, now, that's actually trying, because for gods' sake so is Charles. That does mean something, now that he's not just lashing out, now that the bitterness isn't overflowing so heatedly. He tries to cast a line in turn, tries to reach out a hook of commonality, and he's not sure if Charles takes it or not, the way he starts to speak and stops himself... The apology that follows isn't taking the bait -- it's practically a frakking dismissal -- but it's worth something on its own. A lot, really.]

Thank you.

[It's not exactly warm, but it is sincere. After a second, he drums his fingers against the table and adds:]

I suppose the object lesson here is that no one particularly likes to be told what they are or aren't going to do.

[Charles lets out a soft, tired laugh in response, because well. That's putting it lightly. B(]

I suppose so.

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