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SEVEN ✖ TEXT/SPAM
[Generous Friends Filter - if you think you're on it, you are.]
If you all wouldn't mind checking in, I'd appreciate it.
[Private to Gaeta]
Are you alright?
[Spam for Erik]
[So. That port.
Coming back and remembering everything that had happened was sort of like being punched in the stomach and having the wind knocked out of him, and for a long moment, all he could do was sit and try to process everything.
He'd been able to walk. And maybe considering it had only been a few weeks - or months now, he realized - since he'd been injured, to an outsider, that might not seem like it should have been that big of a deal, but to him, it was basically everything. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't. But that person, that other self or whatever it was, had been willing to go too far to get his mobility back, and all he was left with was a bad taste in his mouth, overwhelming guilt and feeling vaguely sick. Sick because (while he already painfully missed being able to stand up and walk and run and not have to carefully plan out everything to make sure he wasn't stuck somewhere) everything else in that world had been awful. He hated himself for feeling any kind of jealously of his counterpart, because yes, he'd been able to walk but at what cost, how selfish did you need to be to make a decision like that, your life, your benefit at the cost of others? It was alien and frightening and just disgusting to think that for a few days, he'd been that person and the memories of what he'd done would never fully go away. He knew he hadn't really been in control of what had happened, but he still felt like he was responsible, that he was or had been a monster while they'd been in that world and he didn't know what to do with that.
Eventually he realized he had things he needed to do other than sit around feeling vaguely sick and full of misplaced self loathing - how could anyone just walk up to someone and rip their heart out of their body like it wasn't a big deal, it was just part of the job? and was he really that much better than him, selling himself away to the Admiral for the same reward - and decided to try focusing on that instead of the crushing weight of what had happened. He sent messages out to people, checking in on them and replying for a little bit before deciding he needed to check on Erik.
Maybe it was a comfort thing, to be around someone familiar from back home, maybe it was just easier to focus on other people's well being than what had happened to him, maybe he just needed to get out of his room for a while, but whatever the reason, he pulled himself back into his chair and headed next door, knocked on the door and waited.]
If you all wouldn't mind checking in, I'd appreciate it.
[Private to Gaeta]
Are you alright?
[Spam for Erik]
[So. That port.
Coming back and remembering everything that had happened was sort of like being punched in the stomach and having the wind knocked out of him, and for a long moment, all he could do was sit and try to process everything.
He'd been able to walk. And maybe considering it had only been a few weeks - or months now, he realized - since he'd been injured, to an outsider, that might not seem like it should have been that big of a deal, but to him, it was basically everything. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't. But that person, that other self or whatever it was, had been willing to go too far to get his mobility back, and all he was left with was a bad taste in his mouth, overwhelming guilt and feeling vaguely sick. Sick because (while he already painfully missed being able to stand up and walk and run and not have to carefully plan out everything to make sure he wasn't stuck somewhere) everything else in that world had been awful. He hated himself for feeling any kind of jealously of his counterpart, because yes, he'd been able to walk but at what cost, how selfish did you need to be to make a decision like that, your life, your benefit at the cost of others? It was alien and frightening and just disgusting to think that for a few days, he'd been that person and the memories of what he'd done would never fully go away. He knew he hadn't really been in control of what had happened, but he still felt like he was responsible, that he was or had been a monster while they'd been in that world and he didn't know what to do with that.
Eventually he realized he had things he needed to do other than sit around feeling vaguely sick and full of misplaced self loathing - how could anyone just walk up to someone and rip their heart out of their body like it wasn't a big deal, it was just part of the job? and was he really that much better than him, selling himself away to the Admiral for the same reward - and decided to try focusing on that instead of the crushing weight of what had happened. He sent messages out to people, checking in on them and replying for a little bit before deciding he needed to check on Erik.
Maybe it was a comfort thing, to be around someone familiar from back home, maybe it was just easier to focus on other people's well being than what had happened to him, maybe he just needed to get out of his room for a while, but whatever the reason, he pulled himself back into his chair and headed next door, knocked on the door and waited.]
[Spam]
You could forget. Couldn't you?
[Spam]
[He hesitates a beat, not exactly sure he wants to fess up to this.]
And I don't exactly want to forget all of it. I know I could never be that person, but the fact that he was willing to go so far to- [He trails off again, not really feeling comfortable referring to his paralysis directly in front of Erik.] He let himself become a monster for selfish reasons. I don't want to be anything like that person.
[Spam]
As if you could be. [You're safe, bro. But had his repo-self had different ideals and goals, that could have been him. Almost. Without Magda. Without a daughter. He crosses his arms again, and turns to stand in front of his window, staring out into the black.]
[Spam]
You're not destined to be like man you were there either, Erik. Just because they shared our names and faces doesn't mean we have to make the same choices. [And he really hopes to god you won't head down that path, horrific potentially alternate timelines aside.]
[Spam]
Maybe we'll forget on your own.
[Spam] take it off Erik
He's quiet for a moment, before carefully suggesting:] You can talk to me, Erik. I know you're not alright, and I want to help if I can.
[Spam] oh baby
Magda was real.
[Spam] not your pants you loser
You knew her?
[Spam] oh I thought there woul be a pantsless party :c
She...[It was too much to tell. The words froze in his throat, though he could see them in his mind. And before he could think better, he reached up and pulled the helmet off, all without looking at Charles.]
[Spam] that's next weekend bring your dune buggys and beer
He slowly brought his hand up to his temple, still watching him, and because Erik didn't protest or show any sign of changing his mind, he carefully reached out to touch his friend's mind.
Contact was much more cautious and gentle than he had ever been before, almost as though he was worried permission was going to be immediately revoked and really, really not wanting to ruin this.]
[Spam] AW YEAH
[Spam]
Erik's anguish and his own empathy and horror - no one should ever look like that, no one, and there were moments when it was almost hard to believe that the strong, stubborn, proud man who had become his best friend had lived through that, because it just shouldn't have been allowed to happen, not to anyone - pooled and twisted together, and distantly he could feel tears sliding down his own cheeks, too caught up in the memories that didn't belong to him to even consider hiding them.]
[Spam]
His eyes stung, and each blink of his eyelashes was another stab, another reminder. He'd shed enough tears; he'd resolved, years ago, that once Shaw was dead he would never cry again. But those weren't memories he wanted to share, so the moment his thoughts wandered in that direction, he straightened, and slid the helmet back down over his head, caging, protecting his thoughts.]
That's enough. [His voice is steady, his cheeks dry. Shaw was gone, and the less time he wasted thinking on that monster, the better he would be.]
[Spam]
What was there to say, really? Anything he could express verbally was woefully inadequate. It wouldn't change what had happened, on the Barge or back home. But he still felt the need to say something.]
I'm sorry, Erik.
[Spam]
It's done. Those memories will fade or they won't, that doesn't mean I have to dwell on them.
[Spam]
That's true. [And then with something that was maybe some kind of dark, maybe a little bitter humor:] I certainly wouldn't mind if they started fading sooner rather than later.
[Spam]
Rethinking your decision to be here yet?
[Spam]
I don't want to leave. [As awful as this place was and as weird as things were now that lines had been drawn in the sand, he wasn't going to knowingly abandon Erik here.] But I am starting to wonder if my original bargain was the right choice to make.
[Spam]
And that is?
[Spam]
To fix the damage to my spine.
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[He'd caused it, but he hadn't meant it, he knew he'd never intentionally do something like that, not to him, and even though he knew what he'd said on the beach after it had happened... Yes, Erik had done it because he wasn't paying attention, but he hadn't meant to do it.]
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