legionworld | Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away

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Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away

Who| Robbie Baldwin and Vance Astrovik
What| Robbie's failing to cope with Silent Horizon (and a lot of prior stuff)
Where| His quarters
When| In the days after Silent Horizon/No Sanity Clause
Warnings/Notes| Self harm ideation, discussion of past self harm likely, present self harm possible.

Nothing was ever going to be good enough.

Robbie sat in his bed with his back against the wall. Since returning to Legion World, he's tried everything to pull himself back up to his normal emotional functioning. He's argued with teammates, smiled at doctors, asked to be left alone to deal with it.

When that didn't shake out how he hoped, Robbie took out the frustration of impotence out on the anonymous horde. He even sharing anonymously, only to be treated like a freak for saying it was part of his normal.

It underlined his opinion that talking about it with Dr. Ryk'rr won't help, but no one wanted to listen.

He tossed the omnicom onto the bed beside him. He was tired of trying to force emotional highs. The only things he's felt in days were guilt, fear, and hundreds of tiny wounds all along his skin. They're gone now.

The medical care was too advanced here, he thinks as he examined his bare forearms. The skin is pale with fine lines of new skin that stand out starkly. Robbie scratched at them, but the doctors didn't leave scabs. He could grab something, trace along the bright pink lines. Just once or twice. He could tell Vance, I guess the doctors missed a few, or ten, or twenty. He should hide them, but he doesn't care. Besides, if his friend is really coming to check him out, denial of access is confirmation of existence.

But he'd have them, and that's what mattered. He'd feel them. It wouldn't be good enough, but it would be better.

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"Well, she's not sleeping on my floor!" Robbie laughed in spite of how miserable the discussion was. The nightmare of trying to share a room with her was legitimately a horror-shock sort of joke no matter whose room it theoretically was. Worse if it was him, because Robbie wasn't sure she'd stay on the floor or out of his head.

He wasn't being too rough on his arms - the scratches fade in seconds. It kept him grounded in the present, rather than tumbling down the rabbit hole of how he felt then.

"I wouldn't have wanted to see you anyway. Not after my mom." That had been a disaster. Months and months later, talking to Rich had ended in rejection as well. That was part of the beauty of the Penance suit. The full metal mask and isolation of the Thunderbolts team insulated him from the disgust of loved ones. "I had enough getting kicked in the face. I'm not... I'm not trying to downplay how much it sucks. I just. I can't think about loss a lot."

Because he spent his mission like a glued-together Humpty Dumpty getting kicked in the cracks, and it turned out he was pretty fragile. His eyes itched with wetness, but Robbie refused to surrender and wipe them. He tipped his head back a little and stared down the void over Vance's head. His voice sounded less strained without the pressure of directly looking and wondering about every change in expression. "It's rough. They - the fears - I think I'm stuck with them forever."

"I remember what that's like." Things were different, of course, but Vance was disowned by his mother as well. It had been difficult, though...again, for different reasons.

He puts his elbows on his knees, hands folded between his knees. "Yeah, well, that's the thing, isn't it? We don't get rid of our fears. They don't go away. None of us have ever been without fear." Except maybe Murdock, but that was just the Daredevil shtick, he was pretty certain. "Part of what makes us heroes is that we keep fighting despite them."

"Yeah." What a nightmare. Robbie had to be more careful about what he said. If he navigated reminiscing properly, if he demonstrated that he could talk about this without crumbling, without reminding Vance of the worst...

He doesn't know what the best case scenario might be. "I think you're wrong. The only thing I used to be scared of was my parents finding out. If someone'd told me that there were going to be days like that, like the other day... well, I wouldn't have believed them, anyway."

Days when he was so sure he was going to die that elusive parental approval seemed laughable in comparison.

"You wouldn't have believed in Jake Waffles either. But I don't have to be that dumb kid again - I just have to wait it out, and everything that's been kicked up by the mind whammy will settle down again. Because you're right at the same time. It's about ignoring them to keep going."

Edited 2017-01-28 02:39 (UTC)

"Except that ignoring things isn't helping. Not me, at least." He wasn't going to speak for Robbie, even though he was pretty certain it wasn't helping him, either. "I mean, this is all cosmic level shit that we're into right now and the bad guys have made it clear that they're not going to leave our heads alone. We may not have time to let things settle again."

"Then don't ignore them. I told you already, talk if you want to talk. To me, or Dr. Ryk'rr, or better yet Nita or Rich." He flinched when his head caught up to his mouth. "Maybe not Nita and Rich."

They deserved to not have any more shit flung their way. So did Vance. "If we don't have time to calm things down, then I definitely don't have time to talk to Dr. Ryk'rr about anything. How many sessions do you think it would take for her to really understand how growing spikes and getting followed around by a bunch of ghosts feels? Two? Three?"

Robbie shook his head. "Maybe yours was cosmic level shit. Mine was ... normal, but you're not like... that. You've got all your shit together, and you always know what to do, and... maybe you're right. Maybe what you need to do is have a nice chat and not ignore it, and I really hope it works for you. I do. I... I don't think there's anything I want more than for you to be okay."

"Mine was pretty mundane shit, all said. I didn't end up in a pocket of space that was halfway between this universe and another one." Which was probably not exactly what had happened, but that was the way that Vance had interpreted it so far.

He looked up, hands still folded between his knees. "It would take as many sessions as necessary, honestly. But...if you don't want to talk to her, fine. How about talking to me instead?" He let out a breath. "Seriously, Robbie, you have some idea that I'm this...I don't know. Completely and utterly unfazed by the rest of the world or just completely together and I'm not sure if that's just because it's easier to tell yourself that so that you don't have to talk to me or what."

Vance pushed himself up, so that he was sitting more properly. "I do a good job of making people think that I'm something I'm not, Robbie. It's one of those things that...I mean, there were a lot of reasons why I didn't want to restart the New Warriors. The main one is that most of the time? I don't feel qualified to do it. But I hold shit together because somebody has to, you know?"

Edited (I remember who is talking to who here...) 2017-01-28 21:53 (UTC)

"I've been talking to you. So I don't know what's safe to say, but you haven't asked questions either." Robbie wished there was a guide book for how to talk about his damaged bits with a friend he suspected was similarly messed up. Lacking that, he can only fumble.

"It's easier to think you've always got this because if you're not okay than I'm an even worse person for leaning on you so hard. It's not fair, and I don't want to do it. I want to do some of the supporting, but you don't need people that way. You don't need someone else in the room to distract you with snoring so you can hate that instead of yourself until you fall back asleep. And you -"

He put his head in his hands and continued in a mumble. "You shouldn't have to be the someone holding it together. You're qualified; you need to know that, but...I'm sorry. I know I sandbagged you into reforming the team."

"That's part of the problem, though. I don't know what questions to ask." Which sometimes felt like a failing in himself and he was trying to be better. "And...you didn't sandbag me into it. It just took me some time to realize that...I need the New Warriors. Maybe I always wanted to be an Avenger since I was a kid, but the Warriors are something that I need. There's a reason I keep coming back to it.

"And just because I'm not always okay doesn't mean you can't lean on me. Just because I may not need it doesn't mean I don't want it. I've been trying my best to be there for you and..." He frowned slightly. "What happened out there, Robbie?"

"You keep coming back because they're idiots. Because we take you seriously. Because we think you're worth more than you do, not less. Because we're your friends." Robbie smiled as best he could and held tightly to the positiveness of it. See, he could be a good cheerleader. He's said it before. And, yes, calling the Avengers idiots was a heart-warming plus to the conversation.

He had to keep replaying it in his head so his mood stayed buoyed up. "I'll try harder, then, and I don't want you trying so hard for me. I don't want to be your responsibility."

That was a very important distinction. Robbie knew that he'd gotten pretty mentally rocked to find Rich - and then Nita - here. Alive and happy and Rich told him that he burned up. Robbie also knew that he's been slipping before he went on the mission. "I told you. Sixty little kid ghosts followed me around. They talked. I grew spikes... I think they came out of my scars. That place was in my head from the start."

Vance made a soft noise at the back of his throat. "You're not a responsibility, Robbie. You're my friend. And part of being friends means being there for you when things are difficult and helping you to hold things together and to help carry the load at the end of the day."

Sure, Vance had his own issues, but they were smaller and he knew that something could be done about them and he was going to do something about them.

"Sounds like it was." He started to scoot the chair forward, then paused and frowned. "Robbie. Are you okay for me to come closer? Do you want to be touched right now?" Because Robbie did look like he needed a hug, but it might not be welcome.

"It doesn't feel that way." He doesn't feel like he's pulling his own weight, but it was more than that. Robbie thought that his friends didn't need him as much. Despite not being sure he could hold them up the same way... it stung to be superfluous.

Maybe that was why he thought of himself as unnecessary, but Robbie figured that he was zeroed in on it. He did that a lot, focused in on a problem that could be handled or, if it couldn't, would be a solid waste of time.

The questions were... weird. Robbie's head snapped up to look at Vance, and he found himself inching away. He didn't really care if Vance moved nearer, but being asked like he was a skittish forest animal or mental patient. It put him off, but 'no' wasn't the right answer. "Yeah? It's messed up that you think you have to ask like that."

He wouldn't mind a hug, honestly, but Robbie's a historically free hugger. A friend having to ask if one can happen? It's wrong, and somehow that had to be his own fault.

"Something got into your head and not only brought up a lot of old wounds but also created some physical things coming out of your skin. There are some people in the world that wouldn't react well to being touched after something like that." Vance stood up and stepped over, sitting nearby on the bed. "Wanting to be certain that you want to be touched isn't a bad thing when something has been overstepping a lot of other boundaries."

"Half the time, I tell myself I don't have a right to boundaries anyway. You're fine. I'm not doing that now." Robbie held his position on the bed. Vance could do as he pleased, but Robbie didn't want to end up a sobbing mess. He thought he would, if he reached out. "I don't really... care about the me side of things. It's kind of nothing when - I'm pretty sure I attacked teammates. I can't remember. My memory's all fuzzed up again, and..."

And that was the scariest part of what had happened, that Robbie's left with incomplete memories again. "I thought I was past that... I don't know who I'm supposed to apologize to."

"I don't think you were the only one to attack teammates. I think that's what it was going for." Vance finally decided to just screw propriety and, if Robbie was saying it was okay, reached out and pulled him closer for a hug. "Damn it, Robbie, you have just as much right to boundaries and everything else as anybody does. Probably more because people kept fucking yours over so much. You deserve to be able to make peace with yourself."

The hug was... okay. It took a second, before Robbie relaxed and hugged back, but he hadn't frozen or stiffened up. The hug was good. It helped, more than he could put into words, to have such a strong symbol of unrepulsiveness from someone he held in high regard.

He doesn't believe what Vance said, but Robbie believed that Vance believed it. "I don't think I do. It's not an argument, but I'm not even... there yet. Like fighting about whether or not I deserve the boundaries I try to keep or if I should make peace with myself..."

Robbie snorted derisively. "I'm way back on how I'm still here and they're not. I hide it because it's crazy, but ... that doesn't mean I'm ready for advanced classes like actually making peace with things instead of just pretending. If no one gets their hopes up, I can't let anyone down."

"This is why I think you would do well to talk to somebody professional. Somebody who isn't being paid to keep you turned around and feed into those thoughts." Yes, he knew Robbie had been seeing Doc Samson for a while, but that had been well after the Thunderbolts had done the damage. "Because I can say those things until I'm blue in the face and you won't believe them. Because you're still back in the place and I don't know the way to help you past it."

He pulled away a little, but only enough so that he could look Robbie in the face. "The only person I worry about you letting down is yourself, toothpick. The rest of us who know you and give a shit know that you'd do anything for us. I just want you to do something to take care of yourself, too."

Robbie hadn't signed on for close range eye contact. He couldn't deal with being that open, so he immediately turned his head to the side. It wasn't enough, because Vance kept talking.

He grimaced slightly and shook his head - couldn't stop shaking it. "I'm good. I'm taken care of. I've got food and clothes and a bed and distractions and friends I can wake up in the middle of the night if my head starts whirlpooling around the same thoughts and I feel like I'm drowning. I've got too much. I'm fine. I - please don't make me tell someone else about Stamford."

"I'm not going to make you tell anybody," Vance replied. "But...Robbie. The fact that you feel like you don't deserve to have friends...that you don't feel like you deserve food or clothes? That's not healthy."

"I didn't say that!" Robbie was quick to argue, and it just burst out of him. Okay, he said he has too much, but it wasn't about food and clothes.

Life was easier when he had less choices and more free will in regards to those things, but he didn't mean to say that he didn't deserve them.

Distractions and friends - those he doesn't deserve. He knew that, but he also knew he shouldn't have slipped like that. Robbie had been trying to talk - he forgot no one would like to listen.

He has to fix it. "I meant I've got more than a lot of people. I can't complain. Metaphorically. And literally, like, you'd know if I wasn't eating. I spend half my time in uniform."

Vance was good practice, if he wanted to find a bright side to this.

It wasn't that Vance didn't want to listen. It was more that Vance was over his head and knew it. It was one thing, being in Nount Wundagore without easy access to psychologists and people that Robbie didn't have to explain things to nearly as much. Though, even then, it probably would have been easy enough to sort out.

Still, Vance snorted. Just a little. "I've seen you eat. I'm not that worried about you missing meals." Too many meals might be something to really worry about, but one or two here and there weren't that bad. "I just...I know you went through a lot of shit and that it left its marks on you. Not just the scars, but mental stuff as well." He sat back a bit, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. "I just...I want to help. I just know I don't know how."

"I don't want to talk about this." He didn't get up, although he wanted to leave. Robbie couldn't leave. This was his room, and that would be stupid. "I'll go, okay? But we're not talking about it. I give you that much, don't I?"

Robbie folded his arms to his chest awkwardly, trying to cover some of the scars with his hands. "I don't talk about your mental scars, and it's not because I don't want to help. I do. Anyway I can. I just - I respect your space, but it's not because I don't care."

It was weird to say that aloud. Robbie thought it shouldn't be so hard. He used to tell his friends how much they meant to him all the time, but... there'd been those minutes, when he thought Vance was dead, and he hadn't felt any grief at all. He went pale at the idea that he might not really give a shit. "Cause I do."

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Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away

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