burnmythoughts | 19

[Private to David, Arkin and Marsh, separately]

I know that wasn't us, but...I wanted to know how you were doing.

[Private to Ben]

How are you?

[Private to Alex]

How d'you feel about another sparring match?

[Spam - OTA]

[Not thinking about it has become a survival tactic on the barge.

It's easier, this time, as the memories fade like forgotten photographs. But she still remembers being lost and lonely, being horrified and trapped.

She's thrown herself back into life on the Barge as much as she can, chasing away the past with the present, even as her bones ache with it. At least she can walk around.

That's what she's doing now, gingerly stretching her legs on the deck as she finishes sending her messages.]

[Spam - For Charles]

[She can only Not Think About Things for so long, though. Her first and best coping method was always doing something. Sparring with Alex helped, but she didn't want to push herself too far physically, not yet. So she went to the kitchens, and she did something challenging.

There's a bit of smoke, and a bit of cursing, and they don't come out nearly as good as Anya's, but they taste pretty good. Eventually, she has a decent-sized tray of thumbprint cookies, and she lets them cool before sliding them into a container.

Then she heads up to Charles' room, letting the cookies float in front of her. She even uses them to knock on the door.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It is also nice to meet you, Jean.

You are also a mutant?

[It's the kind of curiosity that says he already knows the answer and wants to know more; he also says the word without hesitation or emphasis. It's a word like any other to him, no more, no less, no different.]

[He asks so casually. Like it's not a big deal to him.

And it isn't, and it makes her heart swell a little.]</small. Yeah. I can move things with my mind - and read other peoples'.

[He'd been prepared for this. In truth, he already knew, but she's telling him so she must not be reading his mind.

She doesn't seem like she'd be good enough at deception to fool him, even as stunted as he is. So he gets the opportunity to merely acknowledge, not doubt.]

I am transgenic. It is, as far as I can tell, the equivalent of mutant with the notable exception that we were created intentionally with specific alterations made to samples of DNA.

[He turns his head slightly so she can see the barcode on the back of his neck, plainly in sight between the line of his short-kept hair and the collar of his black military-style field jacket.]

[Her eyes widen, and she can't stop the scowl that curls her lips.

Just for a moment, she feels steel on her scalp.]

They used you, didn't they? [Because that's what people do.]

They intended to.

[Ben's response is almost serene by comparison. He's accustomed to it, and maybe he's only able to calmly talk about it because it didn't actually happen. More likely, he's just surpassed his flooding threshold for being intimidated by it. It's different than accepting it. It's accepting that it's always a possibility and being alert for it.]

My unit and I escaped before we completed training for release into the field. Others were not so lucky. [He says "unit" like "family."]

[Her smile is slight, strained, but palpably relieved.] Good. Good for all of you.

...The others - are they okay?

[Ben doesn't reply for a moment. It had and it hadn't. But then if he hadn't died there, he wouldn't have ever come here, and he is the closest he's ever come to being happy here.]

One died before we could escape. The seizure flaw. One died during the escape, shot down by the guards. [Eva had actually been the catalyst for the escape, but he doesn't pause or flinch.]

One turned back but she was eventually released; others found families and friends and places to belong. Two more died anyway after that. One is here. He won't be okay until we all are, but he'll make it happen.

So, yes and no.

[Jean just nods, at first, the sorrow clear in her gaze. She couldn't imagine losing any of her team. Her family.]

I'm sorry you lost them. But I'm happy for the rest.

Are you ever going to go back? See any of them?

I am, too.

[Ben admits that willingly, but something in his voice softens and he looks away for several long moments, still and silent. It's not that he has to consider the answer to her question. It's that he has to decide how much to say.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes tick back over to the screen. His voice is quiet.]

No. I don't think I am. They are better off without me, and I do not mean that in a metaphorical sense. I am unstable, unpredictable, and... fragile. In the world as it stands, as I understand it, the last thing they need is a safety risk such as myself.

They have also, for the most part, already separated from me. It would not be fair to ask them to undo whatever distance they have managed to gain.

[Jean's gaze is deeply sad, but she doesn't argue. This is his choice to make.]

That's pretty selfless, Ben. [She can, at least, offer him that. Make sure he knows.] I think they're lucky to have a friend like you, no matter what your problems are.

[There's another word he would never apply to himself in a positive way. Selfless. Others have called him kind. Objectively, he's not sure what it is that could be definitively attributed to kindness or selflessness and what is the fault of lacking opportunity or means to be otherwise, but he is constantly collecting evidence, attempting to sort it.

And she's said something else, anyway.]

They're my family.

[A soft, sad smile.] Family, then.

I don't know if I could walk away from mine, even if it was better for them. [She has three now, really. Her first family, her mother and father and siblings, they'd probably be safer without her, but she can't bring herself to cut those ties.]

[In a way, he had, and he knows that. But it's more than that. He blinks slowly instead of shaking his head, fingers picking unseen at the cuff of his field jacket beneath his watchful eyes.]

We had to, or we thought we had to, in order to stay safe. Then we just... stayed apart.

By the time any of us thought to come back together again, I was too far gone.

But you aren't, any more. [Her voice is soft, but intent.] And you're making a choice.

In a sense, no. In a sense, yes.

I understand now that I am not suitable for a great many environments. Possibly even the majority. So yes, I am choosing not to continue to negatively affect the people I care about by making their lives more dangerous.

It is very literally the best I can do for them.

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