( open ) downtime catch-all

[decommission]

CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers + anyone
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day 168 and forward, I'm flexible with days!
SUMMARY: Training montage and general roaming.
WARNINGS: Will update if needed.

i. TRAINING WING (GENERAL LESSONS AND EXERCISE)

[ It's not the boxing gym. Wrong lighting, too sterile. The inexplicable moment when he craves a cigarette is when he really notices how there's not a room that he's found in the Station so far with even the faded scent of them.

He's here at least once a day. Running, using the lifting machines, sometimes swimming by the end - or floating. His presence is loudest when he's mid-movement, a pulsing spectrum of rushing blood and exhilaration, winding down to a pleasant humming by the time he's finishing up. He doesn't mind a partner, he's glad for it, usually. Anyone willing to teach is even better. ]

ii. TRAINING WING (CLOSED TO SAM)

Take this. [ They're in a far corner of the wing, standing on the mats. What he offers Sam is an aluminum bat and another brief explanation to go along with his slightly longer one involving convincing lines like I don't know my symbiotic ability yet and well, it worked once before. ]

I'm not gonna move. Aim for my shins. [ In his memory there's water, rain dripping down his hood and jacket. A man (a lizard) aims some kind of weapon at his knees. He focuses on that echoing sense of fear, the understanding that there's no way he'll be able to get out of the way in time to save his bones from being shattered.

His body is stronger, but that's not going to be enough on these missions. This is the safest way of figuring this out.

Option #2 was going to involve finding something tall to jump from. ]

iii. REC WING (THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL)

[ All the equipment he finds is well worn already. On the one hand, he can't complain about a mitt that's already been partially broken in. On the other hand - there's still that nagging question of what happened to all the people that this stuff used to belong to.

He finds a space in the wing that's relatively clear of miscellaneous junk and faces the closest wall. The mitt's on the ground, he's playing hitter. Tosses the ball up into the air and gives a almost lazy swing. The impact barely rings against his hands, the ball sailing in an arc to smack against the wall. It bounces back, rolling past him.

There's a small pile of baseballs next to his feet, all in various states of wear and tear. Rather than chase after the first one, he picks up another. Rinse and repeat. ]

Comments

[decommission]

[ She'll find him in his room is Life Support, sitting up on his bed, back pressed against the wall and knees drawn up. Sam had come and gone to check on him first.

The walls that usually surround his mind are brittle and porous, letting things in and out. The core of him stands solid around a fluctuating haze of other, bits and pieces of memory and sensations he accidentally pulled with him as he went traveling through the branches of the brood, she can recognize the faint taste of each of them. Closer to the Nest was where he'd been headed when he abruptly stopped.

He's got a mean headache for his effort. ]

[erbier]

[ She hesitates at the door, not certain if her presence will do any good at all. He is already in flux, already wearing the rest of the brood like wrapping of spider web. The only excuse she has is selfishness as she peeks her head inside. ]

Where did you go?

[ Slipped right past her and she wasn't able to catch hold, disconcerting to her sense of brood. ]

[decommission]

[ Her voice causes a pulse of recognition from him, a completely innocuous sort of reaction that only might seem strange because he never leaves his connections so casually open. He lifts his head to her voice, expression drawn with tension. ]

I wanted to see what's past us. [ Us - the Brood, the Nest. Lines like roots stretch in front of his eyes and he shakes his head. ]

[erbier]

[ She understands the concept of what he is suggesting and she hesitates... She generally finds pleasure in encouraging him, but in this instance... ]

You aren't ready.

[ Well, that part was obvious from the results, but she would have said so before hand. Such things were... beyond them all, as they were now. ]

[decommission]

[ His mouth twists with a stubborn edge and a spike of misdirected agitation. ]

I know. But I had to try. [ To see it for himself. There's only so far he can extend his trust in Cathaway and the Prince when there are so many unknowns about this place.

He won't be trying again any time soon. She's right, he's not ready. He needs to learn how to protect himself better. ]

[erbier]

[ She looks away. She dislikes this. Hesitates another moment longer, ]

We will try together, next time.

[ They were brood. Everything they did together, they did with greater strength. ]

[decommission]

[ The offer makes his stomach twist, pulls him in two directions. The symbiote whispers just beneath his skin, drawn toward the prospect of joining with them again. He shakes his head, saying nothing else. Roots spread, and all he can do right now is pull them out. ]

[erbier]

[ She stares at him impassively, ]

You must go through our web to get there. It will be faster if we cooperate with you.

[decommission]

[ He lifts his gaze to stare back at her, a flash in his eyes and a tension in his features. There's a split second where he almost snaps back at her, the echo of alternate personalities reacting with violent force against a perceived attack where she's only offering assistance.

Two, three, four - he blinks at her, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. ]

I know. [ Repeated slowly, his tone leveled precariously. ]

[erbier]

[ Ah... the expression on her face does not exactly change, but something flickers in response in her own eyes and everything on her end goes quiet, calm. ]

I'm sorry. [ Not a thing she really says, not in that tone, pleasant and airy. ] I'm being selfish.

[ She brushes a hand down her white frock, taking her gaze away as she contemplates. ]

I could read to you, until this passes.

[ She knows better than to argue with a mind torn into so many directions, she doesn't know what came over her. Familiarity, maybe, it causes something sour to bite at her heart and she ignores it, pushes it down coldly. ]

[decommission]

[ His body threatens to curl in on itself, bury his head in his knees. Instead he lowers his eyes again. She's not the selfish one. ]

No, it's okay. [ Shaking his head, he attempts to pull away and inward again. ] Thanks.

[ She could stay (it's good, it's right). Fear radiates off of him, thick and humid.

Better that she doesn't. ]

[erbier]

[ That answer doesn't really please her, but... She knows better. She knows better than to argue with it. ]

Then I will go.

[ Leave him alone to grapple with all that festers in Castor. They're going to poison him. One day this may be him, pressed on from all sides by their despair and their anger. She is sorry for that. ]

Take care, Steven.

[decommission]

[ He feels her leave like a part of him stretching by inches, still too close.

If he closes his eyes his throat turns dry, burned and scorched by a place he's never been to. ]