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I've seen him around
He wears an eyepatch, jumped out of a cake once
Why?

[ god dont remind him of the cake ]

i know the one
just curious is all
cakejumping can be a prolific business u kno
i was wondering if he could be hired for anything else besides hapless cakes

[she's not sure if she buys "just curious", but how much more forthcoming is he likely to be than that?

and that suspicion hits home, suddenly, hard: she doesn't trust him anymore.]

I don't know why you're coming to me with this
Did you miss the part where I'm pissed at you
Because you royally fucked up

i know
just thought id ask
ill leave you be

[ it's hard, sometimes, remembering when he's futzed up on something, remembering if this bridge is burned or if it was that one.

memory of her anger is fresh still.

it would have been a good companionship. the thought still stings. ]

[wait, her gut tells her to say, but she's too proud for that, too furious still. too hurt, and it hurts more to admit to it.

still, there's something she needs to ask. wait, she says, but what she types is--]

I haven't seen the kid in a while

hes been around
busy guy

[ ten seconds, thirty, before: ]

look out for him

I try

[and she has to stop for a second, hold a fist to her mouth and stare hard as steel at the wall, because--

trying isn't good enough]

[a long, long minute passes, and then it all comes out in a rush, her thumbs tripping over themselves]

I tried to back off he still doesnt trust me\
He wont tell me anythng
I feel like nobody will what th e hell am i doing wrong

its nothing youve done

[ give it a minute. just a minute, while he thinks furious and fast and tired ]

have you ever seen a battlefield
have you ever seen kids in a war
or the ones whove survived it
have you ever seen dogs and cats in the street
the kind who never want to come close bc of how much theyve been kicked in life
and looked on like theyre nothing
where survival is priority over whatever we think we know
comfortable in our sunny cities and nice homes
where safety is a right not a privilege

I've seen it
I know
Life broke him
It broke me too but I got up again, I just want to show him that he can get up again
But I take al lthe wrong turns and it ends up worse

hope
its a nice idea and a pretty dream
kids like him have no time for it
he wont rely on us carol, not you or me or anyone else
even if hes young
maybe too young
self sufficiency is important to him and his own
its like feeding wild dogs
it isnt always going to turn out pretty
but the message gets across eventually

I cant just sit here

I cant keep watching him

He gets so quiet

It's killing me

[but this is not about what it's doing to her, this is about badou. about what he needs.

this is not about the fact that she can't help him and that feels like her fault, not his, not that of the world he lived in. she can't fight the fourteen years of his life that are behind him, and it feels like failing him.]

I need
Can you

[help, somehow. do something. it's all too much. she doesn't finish the text but sends it anyway, hopes he'll understand.]

[ this, in the end, is the greatest failing of 'heroes'. not everything could be saved. not everything could be helped or salvaged.

he'd learned, a long time ago, what to let go of and what was a necessary sacrifice. ]

where

The house
Its unlocked

[and she drops the phone beside her on the couch and buries her face in her hands and breathes. she won't cry, carol doesn't cry, not even when ruin is at the gates and the world is ending around her.

but this feels different. this time she's powerless, and it's beating her down down down]

ok

[ it's a start. even if she throws him out the minute he steps over the threshold, it's still something.

now all he'd have to do is explain away the state of his face.

he heads out, and starts up the car. ]

[her hands are clenched white-knuckled, scrunched onto the knees of her jeans, and it's rough and uncomfortable and she's stressed herself into a headache and she needs--

jess.

she could have asked steve, should have asked steve, but he just got here and he doesn't know her, he's not her steve, she can't throw all this at him.

shouldn't be throwing all this at sakamoto, either, but it went from her aching mind (heart) to the phone totally without her leave to do so, and he said okay.

stupid smiling understanding idiot.

the squeal of tires won't make her look up, she knows who it is. (although the sound of retching might be kind of a surprise)]

[ and retch he does, noisily and loudly for all the street to hear and behold. on the plus side, he doesn't bring much up to mess up the driveway with. (having expended all ammunition the night previous, isn't that lucky?)

what a great guy. ]

[what the hell is that noise, is something dying out there did sakamoto run over the cat

oh god the cat

where is chewie

and she rushes for the door, flinging it open urgently, and -- oh. okay.

just. stands there awkwardly, red-cheeked and tired-eyed.

what is supposed to happen now.]

[ what happens now is that Sakamoto stands up

waits a moment, as if expecting a horrendous nausea relapse

before flashing Carol a grin most brilliant from across the car.

it could be dashing were it not for the state of his face.

welp ]

Carol-san! I'm h-- [ hurp ] here!

[a long beat passes where she does not know how to feel about any of this, and she kind of wants to just go back inside and close the door and go to sleep.

but he's heaving his stomach up, and something truly horrendous has happened to his face, and he's still here.

the idiot.]

You're still in trouble.

[it's quiet. carol turns and goes back in, leaving the door open for him to follow.]

[ he looks like he's been simultaneously mugged, mauled, and spit out alive like so much offal, but the smile's still there and it's still bright, tinged with sheepishness as it is. the scarf he's donned to hide the worst of it is out of season, black as his coat, but for once he doesn't seem to pay much mind to the additional warmth it brings.

small blessings.

he also takes it as a good sign that she hasn't called the authorities on him yet. a good step forward. ]

I know.

[ said, as he stumbles his way around the vehicle, up the steps. limps his way through the door and takes the moment to savour the lingering aroma of smoke and mayo stained into the plaster and wood and grains of the house itself. a good home. a friend's home. ]

Water? Milk? Juice? Anything capable of consumption that isn't related to mayonnaise? Aah?

Coffee's on [(coffee's always on, here)] but you can have water if you want it.

[she pads toward the kitchen in her stocking-feet, idly gathering her hair away from her face, but stops just outside the kitchen door. grudgingly, awkwardly, feeling as weird as it's possible to feel, carol leans back against the wall and takes a breath and looks at him, frowning.]

Do you need--?

[gesturing vaguely at her own face. medical attention? to file some kind of lawsuit with someone?]

The hell happened?

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composed, unsent

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action i guess now

all this action ;]

hueheuehuheueeheeuhehe

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