interstellar5555 | NO FEAR [OPEN]

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NO FEAR [OPEN]

Who: Steven and anybody in the Defying Atmosphere penthouse.
What: Greg is rewarded with a slightly used pet child.
When: About 24 hours after the SC concert where he gets kidnapped.
Where: DA's penthouse in Virgo HQ.
Warnings: There is a laundry list of things wrong with this situation.

No matter the intention, the violence of being kidnapped leaves a mark on a person, and that's the lingering anxiety that Steven feels now. He was pulled away from his life once again, as terrible as it might have been. He was manhandled, drugged, and dragged off somewhere else, even as he pleaded, for fear of angering his keepers again.

There was a period of claustraphobic darkness followed by a time where blinding white is all he can remember. And then, suddenly, he finds himself here...a penthouse that is totally unfamiliar to him, and is told that he's going to be with his dad now.

He doesn't know if he can believe it, or what he should do. So, once he's left alone, all he does is curl himself up on one of the couches and wait. He's been dressed in fresh clothing, simple in comparison to anything he's made a habit of wearing - the flashes of pink cracklines are still bright on his exposed skin.

He has no control over anything anymore. He may as well stop pretending.

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Greg's still kicking himself for his stupidity a few nights previous, waiting for the sign of what's next to come. He'd been too caught up in everything to question Blanche properly, and now he isn't really sure how to get in contact for more information. All he knows for sure was things were about to change, big time. He wasn't given any further warning; he was just told to go about things as usual. So he does.

The last few days have been... stressful, to say the least. Anyone can tell at a glance he's twitchy and anxious, but in all honesty, it's only a notch up from how plainly miserable he's been in the last few weeks.

And then, he walks into the common area, and sees a huddled, pink-glinting lump curled up on the couch.

"St--" Something hot flashes through him, and in an instant Greg's by his side. "Steven!" No amount of promises or claims could have prepared him for the reality of it.

Steven looks up vacantly, at first lost in his own head. The eternally hazy appearance of his eyes sharpen ever so slightly when his mind sorts out what's going on, though, and he latches onto Greg like he's the first person he's seen in weeks.

There's no makeup to conceal his unnatural marks, now, no artfully painted design on his face. It's just Steven, barefoot in jeans and an oversized T-shirt, broken but present. His breath comes out in a shaking gasp.

"I didn't...I didn't know what happened I didn't know why they...I thought...I..."

He can't get his words straight - his mind is still so fragmented, and the sedatives he's been on for the last while are still fading. He has no idea about anything, anymore.

Greg practically scoops Steven right into his arms. "Did they hurt you? I said.... oh, Steven."

They've put him through so much. He's had every sort of assault on his identity and agency, and Greg's only dragged him further in. It's the only option they have at this point. That's what Greg keeps telling himself, as he cradles the confused boy.

"I'm so sorry, Steven. But it's going to be all right. We're together."

"They didn't try to," he answers, as honestly as he can recall. It's hard to grab someone and force them into a truck without being at all rough, but it wasn't like they had caused any damage that wasn't psychological. Luna (Lapis?) had done way more damage to them, but he doesn't say that.

Steven snuggles into the cradle of Greg's arms without hesitation. Despite everything - despite the horrors he's had to endure - the idea that they're actually together...it gives him a sense of relief. Of peace. Like it's the only thing he needs right now to make things okay.

Maybe he just wants to escape from this. Maybe this is the closest thing to a victory or happiness he'll ever have. It doesn't matter.

"Did...you know?" he asks fuzzily. Steven still doesn't understand how this happened.

"S...sort of." Blanche's tendency to vagueness and workarounds made it hard for Greg to know much of anything for certain. "I thought this might happen, I wasn't sure if..."

Perhaps it was too much to hope Blanche would fix Steven's jewel, too. This is all rough enough to deal with for a kid who's not sick and dazed. Odds are, he'll have to make it worth Blanche's time. Until then, he can at least rest assured nothing else can happen to Steven. That's really all he's able to ask for at this point.

"No one's going to hurt you anymore, Steven. You're safe now, you don't ever have to go back there. I'll take care of you."

Marty enters the penthouse after a while, fingers sore, but absolutely elated. Nothing like a concert to pipe up your spirits! It was hard to imagine he was brainwashed forever ago. There's so many more things to think about, and the past isn't one of them.

At least, until he sees this kid huddled on his couch.

He's not a part of the band, is he? Marty never got notification, anyway. And he didn't look like a fan. Not from a distance, anyway. If anything though, he looks like he's a little sick. Marty can't deal with sick. If a kid gets sick, he'll get sick.

"Hey, kid. You alright?"

Steven looks up at him, which just might shatter the whole 'a little sick' observation. His eyes glow a surreal looking pink, as if filled with glittering dust. It makes it difficult to read his expression, but the fear there is evident.

"I dunno," he says softly, folding his arms around his knees and tucking his head between them, as if ashamed of being seen.

Did Greg want him to be brought here, then? The idea dully registers to him, but for some reason he can't find any problem with it. Lesedi was probably going to kill him, anyway. He'd messed up the concert, he wasn't good for anything else-

He's not really good for anything here, either. Was he brought here for his dad?

He wraps his arms around Greg's shoulders, burying his face in his neck, his curly hair soft against his skin. He wants to believe what he's promising, so for the moment, he does. He lets out a soft gasp that's almost like a sob.

"Did you ask them to get me?" he asks. He still feels so tired. There's only so much he can think to ask about at once.

And shatter it does.

His eyes grow wide when he sees the kid's glowing ones. It's unnatural, surreal. It screams that something is wrong. No, this kid isn't sick, he's hurt. Marty shakily kicks off his shoes, holding up his arms. "H-Hang on. Aah..."

He runs into his room, nabbing a few blankets from his bed and pulling them off, no matter how sloppily. Marty kneels by him and wraps the blanket around his form, before taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"Jesus, kid. What happened?"

Probably not a good question to ask right now, Marty.

It's a sundress sort of day, or at least Rarity is hoping it is - quiet and casual, or at least as casual as she ever gets. After everything that's been happening recently, she's ready for a stress-free day.

Which is when she walks into the lounge area and finds a child curled up on their sofa.

Well. So much for a quiet day.

She crosses the room quickly and kneels down next to the sofa, gently laying a hand on the child's shoulder. "Oh! Goodness, are you alright?"

Steven watches Marty hustle over to his room, more confused than anything. Has he met this guy? He doesn't remember. He's here to see his dad, so he doesn't immediately know what context to put other people in - all he's got is the straight ahead to focus on.

When Marty comes back with blankets, it's certainly welcome. His feet are sort of cold, anyway. He clasps his fingers around the fabric, pulling the bundle more tightly around him. A pink crackline slowly works its way up his cheek.

"Somebody grabbed me and took me here..." he says, still groggy from the sedatives. "They gave me something, and I couldn't...stay awake..."

Yeah, so, kidnapped child in your house.

"I'm just tired," he says blearily, sort of ignoring the whole 'why are you here' aspect as if he's forgotten it's a factor. He does look tired, and he also looks like robot or and alien, given the strange veins of light lining his whole body. "Sorry..."

He doesn't really know what he's apologizing for. He doesn't really know what to say to anybody that isn't Greg.

All of Greg's shame, fear, and regret get washed away for this. Helping Steven, letting this lost child know he's wanted and loved, that makes all of this worth it right now.

"Yeah. We're a family again." He rubs Steven's back. The kid hasn't cried since his jewel was hurt, has he? He must want to. "Now we don't have to hide being together. No one can get mad at us."

"Of course you are, dear," Rarity says soothingly, stroking the child's hair and daintily avoiding the odd cracks of light spreading across his skin. She has no idea what they are and is therefore not about to touch them. "There's no need to apologize. You get some rest, alright?"

Where is Greg when she needs him?

He hasn't cried - he hasn't felt a lot of things like he normally would. He hasn't managed to be properly angry, or emotional enough to shed tears. Everything he's been feeling since his gem was cracked has been muted but what feels like an impenetrable fog around his mind. He can feel misery, and he can feel affection and love, but his ability to naturally process anything intense has been somehow been damaged.

It's just distant, far away, like he's constantly part ways into an out of body experience. Which probably makes sense when an important part of his being has been severely out of sync with the rest of his body. He just wishes he could feel like a real person again.

He stays where he is, genuinely comforted by Greg's touch and the things he's telling him, all things that he wants to believe. He'd been so scared, only moments before being stolen.

"I thought she was going to kill me," he says, a rare moment of catharsis. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't play right..."

He's right over here.

"Uh--Rarity." Greg freezes in the doorway, a big take-out bag of burgers cradled in his hands. He knew the odds were one or all of his bandmates would find Steven here soon, but he still has no clue how to explain any of this to them.

"H-hey. This is, uhh." He dares pace in a little further, setting the bag down by the couch. "This is Steven."

Steven blinks heavily, something about Greg's returned presence making him tune in more clearly to the fact that Rarity is a friend. Having context makes it a bit easier for him to process, when it's clear he isn't just inconveniencing a random strange. He sits up a little, smiling tiredly at his dad, and then looking at Rarity again.

"Are you...you're from his band?" He sounds happy to hear it, in a confused kind of way.

Goodness, that was convenient. Rarity starts a bit and looks up to see Greg coming in. "Oh!" It's not much of an explanation, but at least it's something. The wheels start turning in her head: Greg knows the child - Steven. Steven certainly is happy to see Greg, or at least as happy as it seems he can be right now. Greg had mentioned remembering having a son...

But that didn't make any sense - the ages didn't match - how-

"I am, yes! It's lovely to meet you, Steven," Rarity says with as much of a smile as she can manage. "Now, how would you like some hot chocolate? I think that would be perfect right now." She straightens up, heading for the kitchen. "Greg, dear, will you please come help me?" Steven may not pick up on the subtle edge in her voice, but Greg should. She doesn't want help; she wants to talk, and she is not taking no for an answer.

Greg smiles at Steven. "Yeah. She plays our violin. And, ha, helps me figure out outfits sometimes." All times.

His grin wanes at Rarity's request. Yeah, he saw this coming. "Sure, be right there." He gives Steven a quick squeeze of the shoulder. "Eat up, pal, there's plenty to go around. Back in a sec." Reluctantly, he goes to the kitchen, like a naughty student sent to the principal's.

"Okay," Steven says, not reading into the tension in that exchange at all on account of being generally out of focus. He's not super hungry - he never is, these days, due to reoccurring nausea - but he thinks he can give it a try. As Greg and Rarity leave he starts sleepily investigating the bag.

The door to the kitchen is rarely ever closed, but the occasion certainly warrants it. Rarity clicks it shut behind Greg and tries for a smile. She isn't quite successful. "Greg. Dear. There is a small child on our couch. There is something severely wrong with that small child. You don't seem at all surprised. Would you care to explain?" She's fighting very hard to keep her voice from wavering throughout her words; of everything she's had to handle this month, this is somehow the one for which she is least prepared.

Greg leans heavily against the counter, sighing out a heavy few weeks of stress. He should have planned something to say. How can he even know where to start?

"He--he was working over at Pride. They did that to him. I don't know what it is they did, but... I couldn't just..." He rubs his face, having a lot of trouble looking at Rarity. "I told you I have a family. He's... I know how it sounds, but. He's my kid."

"You don't have to worry about that anymore. She can't touch you." Greg doesn't get angry, he doesn't have the energy for that sort of thing, but there's a venom in his words. Everything is Lesedi's fault, and Greg will do whatever it takes to make sure she never gets her hands on Steven again.

"You can do whatever you want, now. You don't have to play if you don't want, you don't have to worry about performing or anything. It's going to be like before, like the old us." He's rambling, reassuring himself just as much as Steven.

It's a lot - a lot - to process, and Rarity is trying-

Right up until Greg finishes, and then she throws it all to the wind and simply stares. But- the ages made no sense- that doesn't seem physically possible-

"How?"

She asks the question, the same one that's been plaguing him for months, the one he's been blocked by and trying to work around as soon as it came up. The question he finally got an answer for.

Greg's laugh hits a high, uncomfortable pitch, a hand running into his hair. Boy, that one corner of the kitchen is fascinating, he just can't look away. Wow!

"Y...yeah! About that, I, uh, I'm sort of... I'm probably... it turns out I'm in... I dunno... like, my forties? Actually? So that. That's something I found out about myself. Who knew, huh?"

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NO FEAR [OPEN]

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