station72 | sometime after day 5

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sometime after day 5

[ Sam’s never really reached out to the Nest in general like this before, but at this point - well, he’s running out of options. The work he’s done on his mental walls has paid off, and nothing escapes his thick cloud layer except his words, and the soft hint of wind and feathers that flavors his mental link. ]

( Seems like we got a bit of down time, and I’m looking to put it to good use. I’m getting better with my symbiote ability, but I need someone who’ll let me practice it with them.

Simple explanation is that it’s healing, with a side effect that means it’s gonna hurt. Most likely for me. I can get into specifics if you’re up for it. ) [ If it doesn’t bother them or they’re willing to overlook that it means Sam getting hurt, he means, but seeing as he’s communicating with the Nest in general, he’s not gonna say that.

He already knows more than who person who is bothered by it and never seems willing to let Sam use it on them. ]

( I’ll take as many as I can get, more training can’t hurt. )

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( Okay. )

[ This is trust, plain and simple. She'll do it if he thinks it's what's good for him. ]

( How did you figure out your ability? )

[ He has to admit, he's glad to see her here. She's one that he'd try to heal whether or not he needed to practice, and it's good to know that she's at least a little bit on board.

He's distracted by her question, though, giving off a faint hint of amusement. At least his discovery isn't as bad as Clint's, who fell into a shadow under the bed. ]

( I had a friend who was injured; I touched him and it healed. When I first got here, I couldn't stop it from happening. )

Edited 2017-01-29 02:44 (UTC)

( You must've looked like a real punching bag then, huh? )

[ Somehow she thinks he's the type who doesn't mind, who thinks suffering for the good of others is something noble. She can't quite agree, but doesn't mean she can't respect it. ]

( I'm not hurt anywhere now. We can save it for later? )

( But a really pretty punching bag. )

[ There's lightness and teasing to his mental tone, but she's right. He doesn't mind - up to a point, anyway. He has his limits on how far he's willing to push for someone else, it's just that those limits tend to be pretty far. Especially for specific people. ]

( Yeah, hell yeah. It works on sickness and fatigue, too, so hit me up whenever, all right? Doesn't matter the time. )

[ She said it before, back when she told him healing is about the most fitting ability for him to have. Selfless to a fault. But her feelings on the matter were not as strong as now, they didn't warrant speaking out until now. ]

( You know, don't you Sam, that letting yourself get hurt is one way to hurt those who care about you? )

[ Man, not you too, Misato. And here he thought he was going to get to bypass a talk like this. ]

( I know there are a lot of people here who are uncomfortable with someone else taking on their pain, and a few people who might be upset about it being me, specifically. I also know that without practicing, it wasn't me letting myself get hurt, it was happening every time I touched someone. I still have to fight it to keep it from happening, and I'm not going to be a danger to myself or anyone else. That means training with this and trying to understand it as much as possible. )

[ Look, Sam, you might be the last good man standing on this crapsack universe alright. She's not about to let him slip away that easily.

But his answer brings comfort that she reflects back to him. ]

( I read you. Sometimes you gotta bear a few cuts and bruises to get to where you want, right? At least this is a practice run among friends. )

[ And he takes comfort in her comfort, that at least she understands. He's not doing this because he thinks he needs to be play up the self-sacrificing, he's doing this because it's too dangerous to have the kind of power to hurt people and not know how to use it. ]

( Exactly. I'm not gonna throw myself in the field with this thing untested and have it bite me in the ass, at least here I can take precautions. Besides, this is nothing on the time we were dumped in the woods and had to eat bugs for a week back when I was in the pipeline. )

[ She doesn't know what to do if he were a martyr. The idea of living like that so alien to her. But she understands wanting to be better, to be in control, to be more prepared. ]

( Eugh, I don't envy you. )

( Actually, you could help me with my bruises if you don't mind looking kinda purple for a bit? )

( I put chocolate covered crickets in our instructor's lunch after that, so I think I came out ahead. )

[ Well, that and he successfully completed the training, but that's a given. ]

( Purple's a good color on me. Where are you? I'll come patch you up. )

( Chocolate covered? That's too nice. )

[ Everything about him is too nice. Too sweet. Too much of too much. A part of her loathes it and the other part tells her it's precisely what she wants. She silences both sides with a sweep of her hand. ]

( I'm out by the rec room. But you know this just means I owe you one, right? Well, two, now. )

[ There's a low, amused chuckle. ]

( The chocolate was only so he'd think they were the chocolate almonds he usually had and shove a handful of them into his mouth before he realized. )

[ He's moving he talks, making his way to the rec area. ]

( I think we can call this one a draw. It's been hell trying to get people to agree to me patching them up. )

[ Misato thinks she would eat those crickets and be fine with it. Can't be worse than her own cooking, right? She can turn instant curry into a weapon of mass destruction. ]

( Nuh-uh, you don't get to play me like that. It's zero to two in my book. )

[ He would find her working hard in the rec room, a clunky old laptop open in front of her as she slowly reads, face serious despite her outfit: wrinkled Nest-issued pajamas with the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders. She would look up and wave the moment she notices him, glad for the interruption. ]

[ In all fairness, chocolate covered crickets weren't that bad. If Sam ever hears that about her cooking, though, he's definitely going to add her to the list of people he makes food for. ]

( All right, all right, I ain't gonna complain about those numbers. )

[ Sam himself is dressed just as casually, in loose pants and a faded tee-shirt - nothing he minds getting messed up, in case someone a little more injured takes him up on his offer. He shoots her a smile as he heads over. ]

Guess I'll just have to come up with something good to cash in on those. What're you reading?

[ For a moment, something close to regret bleeds through from her. Maybe she shouldn't have asked him over, maybe this won't end well, like last time. Was that a good end? She can't say.

She doesn't look in too bad a shape despite her earlier warnings about him turning purple, with only mild bruises down her lower arms, marks left behind by Ilde during their recent spar. Her smile remains, but the look she gives him is hard, almost challenging. See if he dares to question her implausible optimism: ]

Homework. For when we go home so I can hit the ground running.

[ When. ]

How many ouchies have you taken away so far?

[ It was a good end, as far as he's concerned. He can't even honestly say he regrets kissing her - though he maybe regrets that it wasn't under different circumstances. But they were drunk, and that's the way things go. It doesn't have to be awkward, and Sam's determined not to let it.

And he definitely doesn't question her optimism about going home. They'd all gotten here somehow, it stands to reason they could find their way back. There's plenty of people here who believe that, who're preparing for when they return, and Sam's supported that.

It's less of a draw for Sam, who left behind his life more than once before he ever came here, but that's his business. ]

Might as well use the time while we got it, huh? [ Makes sense to him. ] I've had a couple of bites. More than before this, anyway.

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity!

[ The words slip past her lips before she thinks through the implications of citing Seneca, and her own disapproval crosses her face in such a painfully obvious wince that the shame compounds upon the shame. Such is her life. It occurs to her that she spent too many years of her life with brainiacs like Ritsuko and Kaji. It occurs to her that that isn't really a bad thing. ]

Anyway, come over here and patch me up already. [ She snaps the laptop shut and sets it aside to give him space to take a seat nearby. ] You wouldn't guess who gave me these bruises and how.

[ Honestly, that sounds like the kind of fortunes he got back at carnivals back home, on warm summer nights when you stick a couple of coins into a machine and it pops out your future. He can't help but grin a little at the face she makes, even if he doesn't comment on it.

He sits down, angled in slightly so that their knees are touching. Both because he's someone at ease with proximity and because his symbiote ability requires touch - and he's trying to practice doing it in ways that don't involve his hands. There might be a time where he needs to use it in a situation where he's not free to just go grabbing at someone.

As soon as their knees touch, there's a flow of warmth across the connection - and he doesn't pause in the conversation, trying to multitask so he can scan for injuries at the same time as he talks with her. ]

Do I gotta get a couple of wrong guesses before you tell me?

[ Misato craves physical touch even as she regards it with suspicion. There's an amorphous time in her memory of being alone in a lifeless world and there's a more distinct period in her life when she was denied contact in lieu of a chair, a handful of wooden blocks and a teddy bear. Human touch is more, far more, than any object can compensate for.

She flinches when their knees touch, alarm surging through the link mixed with that particular kind of wanting reserved for parched men lost in a desert. She wants and loathes it, but makes no mention of it even when she feels the warmth, his warmth. The brief pause and the level gaze she grants him are the only acknowledgment she offers him. ]

I think you're smart enough to figure it out in one go.

[ She's testing herself too, a teasing smile on her lips as she imagines a girl as delicate as a flower with fists as solid as tree bark. Can he see what she sees? The symbiote offers such possibilities. ]

[ It's not the first time he's experienced something like this. So many soldiers returning from war crave the comfort of companionship, of knowing they're not alone, at the same time as they shudder away from touch and the tenuous safety it brings. Too much violence, too much loss, too little belief in themselves and others to be comfortable with it. He'd been like that himself, once.

More recently, it reminds him of Bucky, leaning towards the warmth their brood bond offers and the companionship Sam does, pulling away and hissing at him when it gets to be too much.

Sam can tread lightly, ease into it. He doesn't do anything but keep his knee right there, focused on holding his symbiote ability back. And on the image that she gives him. He picks it up easily, focused on their connection as he is, and he smiles back. ]

Ilde. How was the fight?

[ He's assuming it was one prearranged, the kind for practice - he suspects one of them would be more injured otherwise, and that she might not be smiling like that. It was a fight; he's a medic, he'd know the injuries that come from another person even without the symbiote. He lets go after that, and his ability takes over: healing her bruises at the same time as they appear on his own skin. ]

[ She responds with a grin. It's a game of charades and he just scored a win for the team. ]

The girl's got moves, let me tell you.

[ A part of her draws back to consider if that's perhaps less of a compliment and more an insult. Like saying, you fight good, for a girl. She has been on the other end of the equation for so long and proven them wrong time and time again that it irritates her to find that she has become the perpetrator of the very same cycle. It's uncomfortable to admit, so she changes the topic by reaching over to grab him by the arm where she can see the bruises forming with utter disregard for personal space. ]

So does it hurt when it appears on you? Or just when I poke it?

[ As she pokes the bruise that's now his, yes. ]

I'm guessing so do you, since you aren't just a giant bruise.

[ The phrasing doesn't even make Sam blink - he'd use it himself, not meaning anything different than saying the guy's got some moves. Then again, he is a guy, formerly of a special ops division of the military that doesn't have a single female member. He's never thought of women as any less capable, but he's never had to personally experience it, either.

He can tell something's making her uncomfortable, but is pretty easily distracted from exploring what when she leans over and pokes him in the bruise. ]

Hell yes it hurts when you poke it. Thanks for testing that out for me. [ Probably not as much as hers, since the ones on his skin are a little farther along in the healing process, but still. ] Depends on the injury, but yeah, sometimes they hurt when they appear.

[ As if disbelieving his words, Misato looks up to study his face and see for herself. She isn't sure what it is she's trying to find, not so much a believable reaction or a certain thought betrayed by his eyes, but something. Something. He seems too simple, too good, despite his words back when they had drunk themselves under the table, and she's convinced there must be more to the story. No one who has lived so long could remain so plain. Even children have their own secret tragedies.

She draws back and rests her hand against her knee, fingers brushing his knee, but her eyes don't relent. ]

Do you like it? When it hurts.

[ Oh. That's what this is about. He can't be sure what she's looking for when she meets his gaze, but it's not the first time that he's had someone study him like this. Unbelieving that he is what he seems to be, looking for the lie, the reason not to trust him.

The excuse to throw everything he says back in his face as bullshit, but that'd been mostly back at the VA, and not finding anything hadn't always stopped them from doing it anyway.

He holds her gaze back, head tilted down just a little - steady, but not challenging. ]

I learned other ways to remind myself that I'm still alive.

[ Her gaze changes, softens, turning apologetic when she lowers her eyes to the point where their knees meet. It's not his fault that she, an incorrigible ultra-rationalist with a decidedly poor view of humanity, doubts him and his good intentions, this she knows full well. It's on her.

Misato draws her knees to herself, severing the contact, resting both hands on the floor for balance. Only then does she draw her eyes back to him. ]

Like helping others? Making a good difference?

sometime after day 5

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