24. We're falling apart and we're coming together again and again.

[voluntaryapnea]

[Open Action Spam]

[After leaving Scott's room, Stiles makes his way toward the stairs. He's relieved as hell that Scott is awake again, that he seems to be fine. Just as nearly everyone had told him. But now he has other people he needs to check on. Lydia, Dean, Kira, Liam, Allison, Isaac, Bucky, Steve, Jean. His people. They're growing in numbers, expanding a little bit at a time. For a guy who'd once thought himself virtually incapable of caring about anyone besides his dad, Scott, and Lydia, he's come a long way.

He heads for Dean's room first, mostly because they'd been in the midst of a battle with a horrifyingly large kaiju before getting pulled back to the Barge, and he wants to make sure his inmate is okay. He still feels a little disoriented by all of it. More so than most of these kinds of events tend to leave him.

He can be found heading toward any of their rooms, also at the cafeteria to grab something to eat, and then heading back to his own room on the seventh floor.]

[Private to Scott]

[He's slept a bit since he saw Scott earlier, but he still looks a little tired. He also looks a little nervous.]

I have a question.

[Spam for Lydia]

[Everything is already set up in the enclosure, ready to go. Now he just has to get her to go with him. He's chewing his thumbnail as he heads toward her room, and knocks lightly on the door. It's late but not super late. Not late enough that he's worried she'll be asleep. He stands and waits, heart beating quickly in his chest.]

Comments

[some point whenever spam]

[betamax]

[It was definitely one of the weirder things Liam had ever had to deal with, and considering how much wider his definition's gotten it's something of an accomplishment. Giant robots and giant monsters and weird mind-melds and really it wasn't anything close to the kind of thing he ever thought he'd have to deal with.

After, he's left stranded in his own room, the memories of things that don't make sense to have ever happened jammed in his head, and it's always been his habit to try to process on his own first. Only bring it to other people once he's gotten everything straight in his own head, when he's left with a handful of pieces he can't make fit.

Until then, he's enmeshed in the world of video games, something that steals most of his attention to let the rest wander. When the knock on his door comes he ignores it at first; he's in the middle of a level, if he abandons it now he'll lose the rhythm, and he's almost there, but a knock in the right place at the wrong time ruins his concentration and a moment or so later it's all over. He grumbles and glowers and drops the controller to get the door instead, only to find Stiles on the other end of it. It curbs whatever more irritated sentiment he might have adopted if it were someone else.]

Hey. So you're...not dead. That's good.

[Considering how things went for a lot of people? It really is.]

Spam!

[voluntaryapnea]

[It's weird. It's disturbing in the same ways that these things are always disturbing. It's...unsettling having mind melded with Dean, and even more so considering they'd thought they were brothers. He's not sure what to make of it. He has already noticed the pattern though: overall, wardens had been paired up with their inmates. Other people had been paired up randomly or not at all.

He'll type up notes on the event after he checks on everyone and gets some sleep. Or maybe before he sleeps. He doesn't want to accidentally forget things. He waits at Liam's doorstep after having seen Scott and when the younger boy opens the door, he grins, not only at his words, but at the news he's about to deliver.]

You too. Also, Scott's awake.

Spam!

[betamax]

[In the chaos, he'd almost forgotten the one thing that mattered after the fact. Scott. He'd been awake, running around, joking around, like he'd always been there, and now when Stiles mentions it he starts to think maybe it wasn't just whatever weirdness the breach brought. He doesn't bother trying to squash the relieved look the news prompts.]

You serious? He's actually awake. For good. I mean, I saw him on...at that other place, but. He's still awake?

Spam!

[voluntaryapnea]

He's actually awake.

[Which Stiles is obviously very happy about. He knows the others will be happy to hear it too, of course, but he has a feeling Liam is probably going to be more relieved than most. He has, after all, spent a great deal of time in Scott's room with Stiles, reading Harry Potter to the alpha.]

He was pretty confused when I told him he'd been out for like a month.

Spam!

[betamax]

Well yeah, people in comas don't usually know they're in comas.

[Liam Dunbar: full of gems borrowed second-hand from people who actually know what they're talking about.]

How is he?

[lydiascreams]

[Since she heard Scott was awake again, she started feeling a little lighter. After chatting with him, and making sure Stiles was okay, she decided to give them some time to catch up. She checked in with some other people and the art room. But she hasn't really spent time with her boyfriend yet, so she's planning on heading to his room later and spending the night there with him -- as long as he's not staying over at Scott's.

She's not expecting anyone, though, so the knock on the door startles her a little. Instead of inviting them in, she shushes Prada when he starts to bark and heads there to open the door herself.

The second she sees him, she relaxes and smiles brightly, letting Prada out to say hello.]

Hey, I thought you might be resting. I was gonna go see you in a little bit.

[voluntaryapnea]

[He kneels down and picks Prada up before rising to his feet again, smiling a little as the dog's tail wags excitedly. He meets Lydia's eyes and his expression softens.]

I was actually -- well, getting ready. We missed Valentine's Day, but I thought we could still celebrate a little late. I mean if you're interested.

[lydiascreams]

Of course I'm interested. [She was thinking they should celebrate it now, too. Once Stiles had had enough time with Scott anyway.

But then he said he was getting ready and she pauses, looking down at her clothes then back at him, eyes a little wide. Yes, she looks fine, but she's not dressed up for a date.]

Oh. Did you mean now?

[voluntaryapnea]

[He can tell that she's surprised and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. He likes surprising people. Enjoys catching them off guard and delivering the unexpected. He grins at her and nods in confirmation, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek before moving past her and into the room. He gently sets Prada on the bed before moving to her closet, glancing at her and then back. He pulls a heavy sweater that matches what she's already wearing from her closet and holds it out to her.]

You'll wanna wear this. And this.

[He grabs out a fuzzy scarf and holds it out, too.]

[Private]

[semifreakingnormal]

What's up?

[It's the nerves that catch his eye. He can't sort out the reason.]

[Private]

[voluntaryapnea]

How do you know when it's time to say certain words to someone? And by someone I mean Lydia and by certain words I mean...well you know what I mean.

[Private]

[semifreakingnormal]

You tell me when you're planning on doing it so I can film it.

[He feels the faintest twinge - because I love you - and then it fades. His mom was right, even if he didn't believe her at the time. He learned to love again.

He grins, though, because he knows exactly how hard it was for him. It's not like the Sheriff is here for Stiles to ask, so Scott tries to remember exactly what his mom said. And probably fails.]

You just, you just gotta tell her. Dude, you've loved her since like, third grade.

[Private]

[voluntaryapnea]

Sorry, Buddy. I'm thinking it's gonna be a private kind of moment.

[He can't help but smile when Scott does and he shakes his head a little even if his nerves are already subsiding.]

Yeah but what if she's not ready to hear it? I mean what if it freaks her out?

[surfaceshine]

[One moment, he and Stiles are working as one unit, exactly as they should be, a threat in front of them and the means to put it down between them, a world to save and a way to do it, and their lungs and hearts and minds are all working in tandem.

The next, Dean is alone in his own head again, and the part of him that knows how to operate a jaeger knows what that means. There's no one in his room to hear the desperate, panicked shout -] Stiles! [- torn from him like something painful, a hook sunk deep, the last shred of self, something deep and vital snapping like a lifeline. It collides headlong with Dean coming back to himself, a life lead by Dean Winchester instead of Dean Stilinski, and maybe it would be easier if there weren't a parallel moment to thrum in tandem with this newest loss.

It could only be easier. Dean didn't survive losing one brother, and for several moments he is dead certain he will not survive it this time either. When he finally feels like he can breathe again, the irrational, consuming anger boils up under everything else to fill the vacuum and he does not cry anymore, not Dean Winchester, not the Righteous Man, he does not mourn losses, he turns them back on others.

He up ends his bed completely, then two of the benches for the table; he'd have thrown the table over too except when it's heavier than he can easily move he slams his fist into it instead, and in the clean surge of pain through his already damaged hand there is a moment of clarity like oxygen to a drowning man and he knows who he is, when he is, that he is, so he does it again. And again. And again.

He's worn himself out by the time Stiles shows up at his door, had switched at some point to taking one of his makeshift metal bars to everything he can reach, including the window if the crack in the thankfully otherwise unbroken glass is any indication. He hadn't really been thinking about what happens if he bashes a hole in the side of a prison ship in space, only about needing something more satisfying, something breaking, something else shattering apart because it's that or lose his mind, it's that and lose his mind, he's already so far gone he doesn't even remember what it was like to have a mind, until finally he just drops down in the lee of the upset bed and tents his knees to brace his bloody hand against. It's comforting, to know that he's real, that he has a body he can break at will; he doesn't think about that too much. He closes his eyes and waits for the rest of the memories to settle, to know for sure what he lost and when, how, his breath rattling in his chest and his mind at once too full and too empty and he doesn't know which one is right, doesn't know which one happened, doesn't know if his brother is Sam or Stiles, if he's a hunter or a pilot, if he's damned or just a joke waiting to be made in a memorial.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's not entirely sure what to expect when he reunites with Dean on the Barge. He has snapped back to reality, to himself already, even though there are lingering feelings of brotherly affection -- the kind he usually feels for Scott -- now also focused on Dean. He supposes it makes sense, considering he already cared about his inmate before the breach, but there's an increased feeling of worry, of protectiveness and concern now. He has a feeling it probably won't fade very quickly.

He makes his way down the hall toward his inmate's room and takes a deep breath, trying to squash his anxiety. He knocks lightly on the door and he waits. He just needs to see him, to make sure he's okay, that he isn't hurt, that they both really did make it out all right, and maybe after that and after making a quick round of checking on everyone, then he can faceplant in his bed for a few hours. It feels like he hasn't slept in awhile, and really, he hasn't slept that much. Not that he ever sleeps much. But he usually sleeps enough to function. When he doesn't, he'll just pop an Adderall or two.]

Dean? You in there?

[surfaceshine]

[Dean doesn't hear at first; he's deep inside his own head, still panting lightly, still trying to sort out more memories and lives than anyone should have to know what to do with. They fade, in general, and leave behind the memories he's decided to believe in as real but that takes time. He hasn't had time. He doesn't know how long he's been here in this cabin, how long he's been this person, but it's not long enough to sort anything out yet.

So he doesn't respond to the knock. It doesn't even register. What does register is his brother's - his warden's - Stiles' voice, and he shakes himself out a little, glances around without getting up. His voice is rough and breaks down the middle (just like him), but he can't ignore that. Not on the off chance that...]

Stiles?

[voluntaryapnea]

[Something is wrong. He can hear it from the tone of Dean's voice. He doesn't hesitate any longer before reaching out and turning the door handle to let himself in. He freezes two steps in as he looks around the destroyed room with wide eyes. It looks like the Tazmanian Devil from Loony Tunes had spent five minutes inside.

He shifts his gaze to look at Dean, taking in how drained and upset and just...broken he looks. It only takes a second to put the pieces together and all the air leaves his lungs as he sees the blood on his inmate's hand.

Jesus.]

Oh god. Dean.

[He moves over until he's standing in front of him, alarm clear on his features.]

[imfollowinghim]

[Bucky's fine, really. There have been worse breaches, or floods, or whatever else, and so he goes about his routine more or less the same way as always - boot camp, eating way too much in the mess hall, snacking on horrible ration chocolate bars (partially because he likes them, partially because they're so high in calories that it helps his system feel less like he's starving to death if he doesn't snack in between meals) - so it's probably not a shock that Stiles runs into him in the mess hall, not his room, or Steve's.]

You make it out alright? [The fact that he's on his feet and not in the infirmary does reassure Bucky that you didn't get yourself eaten, so.

Also you're being offered a glass of orange juice.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[And Stiles is relieved to see that his friend is up, around and doing okay. If he's up and in the mess hall, he's definitely okay. He hadn't died. Thank god. So far all of his people have survived. He still has others to check on, but he's pleased so far.]

Yeah. I was mid-battle with Dean when we showed back up here.

[He smiles and takes the glass of juice.]

Thanks. [He pauses. He doesn't really remember seeing Bucky back there actually, now come to think of it.]

You were okay right?

[punched_hitler]

[That had been some breach, to say the least. Then again, maybe it was par for the course - but there were a number of things about it that hit far too close to home for Steve's comfort, and once they'd gotten back (or... well, had they ever really left? Who knew), Steve had started to wonder if the Admiral was mocking him. Or if it the Admiral even knew he was mocking him.

Because there was just no way that Bucky showing up, after "all that time" and missing his left arm, could have been anything but a sick mockery, and it left Steve feeling a little sick, too. And that was before he even got to thinking about how strange it had been, to be inside someone else's head, more or less, and to let them inside yours.

That, at least, made him glad it had been a breach, and not a flood.

He's been puttering around the Barge a bit; spending some time with Bucky, a little with T'Pol (if she'll let him), and otherwise just trying to work through the strange events that had happened by keeping himself busy, at the gym or in the art room. He's on his way back to his cabin from the latter when he spots Stiles, which isn't completely unusual, given they're just a few cabins apart. He smiles - it's a little more preoccupied than usual, but genuine.]

Hey, how's it going?

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's certain that if the Admiral was mocking someone, it wasn't just Steve that was feeling it. He has a feeling that roughly half of the people on the Barge feel the same way. He's almost certain that includes Dean.

But to be honest, Stiles still can't really tell the difference between a breach and a flood. They all feel sort of the same to him. It all just feels like a way to mess with people's minds, and if he didn't know from others for sure that the Admiral follows through on the deals he makes, Stiles wouldn't have lasted here as long as he has.

He's relived to see that Steve is there and looks okay physically, at least. That's most of his people now accounted for. He smiles back, but it's mostly tired.]

Okay. You? [He suddenly feels the urge to apologize for trying to steal Captain America's freaking shield, bet or no bet. But he doesn't.]

[punched_hitler]

[That's probably true. If the Admiral has any control at all, Steve would be that he's likely trying to find situations that mock as many people simultaneously as possible.

Either way, breaches and floods do feel pretty similar, and they might as well be the same, in terms of invasiveness - especially these last few.]

Okay, [he confirms with a smile.] Although I haven't talked to T'Pol yet, so that might change.

[Okay, not that he's exactly worried for his safety or anything, but. She isn't going to be happy, he knows that already.

Also - don't worry about the shield Steve's the one who bet it.] You make it through that, uh, attack okay? [Maybe it doesn't matter - but it does, actually, because dying there, dying here - it's never okay.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[Or maybe it's not the Admiral at all. Maybe it's just Fate mocking them. Considering how things tend to go back home, that's probably just as likely, really. Plus if the Admiral really was that much in control of things, he'd probably just be redeeming all the inmates himself without needing assistance.]

It was a rough breach. [There's no need to beat around that particular bush. He can't imagine just how rough it had been for Steve. He's already seen what it's done for Dean. And T'Pol he doesn't really know yet.]

We were still alive. [He grimaces a little.] We were mid-battle when we were pulled back. It wasn't pleasant. [He also doesn't want to complain because it could have been worse. They could both be death tolling, but they aren't.]

[fireincarnate]

[The door opens itself, after a few knocks, and Jean grins up at him from where she lounges on her sofa, scribbling into a notebook. She's had enough time to orient herself, to remember who she truly is and where she belongs. She wants to record who she isn't, now, before she forgets.]

Hey.

[voluntaryapnea]

[Stiles pokes his head into her office and smiles a little at her greeting. So far so good. She looks like she's doing okay, at least. Definitely a plus in his book.]

Hey. Just...wanted to check and make sure you made it through that breach all right.