I'm in the autumn of my years

[panspermia]

Who: Greg Universe and any Rescuers
What: who's this asshole
When: June 18
Where: The Rescuers' ship
Warnings: trauma and PTSD

If Greg has a reaction to entering a massive alien guitar spaceship, he keeps it to himself. Between the drama of the ritual, the return of his maimed soul, and his haphazard rescue, he simply has too much to process first before he can take in the rest of the rescuer operation. As a result, first thing he does is find a small, empty room--a bathroom--and ask to be left alone for a while.

An hour or so later, a very different man emerges again.

It hadn't been his first intention in locking himself in that room, but the longer he'd been in there, the more necessary it had felt. Greg hasn't felt like himself in a very long time. The worst of it was the result of Blanche's meddling with his soul, yes, but it extended before that point as well. The face of his youth, the one Blanche used and tried to make into a different person altogether... Greg couldn't keep looking at that face anymore. It hurt too much, made him too sick. Adding a few years on to his appearance and a beard isn't going to fix it, either; he's not the same person he used to be, either. (After all, he did keep the hair.) But this is better, closer than before. Whoever he is now, this is about as close as he's willing to get.

Greg Universe emerges into the ship, avoiding eye contact, and finally begins to take things in.

Comments

[panspermia]

"I saw something, for sure." His grin is equal parts anxious and awed. "Didn't think I'd get to see anyone hold their own like that against a valkyrie. You girls were incredible."

[faithfulflame]

"We're not human. We're...I guess you could say we're the beings that the Roman gods are named after," Rei says with an awkward smile. "I don't know the full story myself, just bits and pieces at the moment. But yeah. I didn't really expect Meril to be a valkyrie, myself. Honestly...I'm glad we got her to back down, or we'd have risked hurting her. Me...ah...especially. I haven't quite re-learned how to restrain my powers yet."

She holds up a hand, waving anxiously. "Not...that I just randomly burst into flame or anything."

[giglio_madonna]

Sympathetically, she rubs between his shoulder blades. She guesses, for someone who hasn’t seen the future at all- literally- it’s dreaming too big too soon. But she knows that whatever happens here with Blanche and Santiago and their mysterious rescuers…. She’ll still end up at home for the end of things.
But that’s not going to be reassuring for him to hear.

“Tell me about it! Arpegius- one of the ghosts, the ones that have been trying to contact us and help us remember- he told me that a few of the rescuers ended up back home because of complicated time-space things… You know how it is.” He probably doesn’t. That’s alright, it’s not Luce’s area of expertise either. “But even taking that into account… We have a lot of amazing people to rely on. Although it still seems like the ones who did the gathering are something of a mystery.”

[missknight]

“Well, you should probably brush it and put it back into a ponytail. That way it’ll be harder for people to recognize you!” She curls a hand at her chin. “Although… Looking a few years older will probably do the trick just fine, but still.”

[oceantier]

Normally she might have pointed out that Virgo happened to be where the ocean was or that she doesn't normally spend time on a spaceship.

For the first time, that doesn't seem terribly important, though.

"Do you remember everything?" He had, after all, changed back.

[panspermia]

Little details like that don't factor into what's happening now.

"Not all of it," he admits, with a small shrug. "But most of it. When they, uh. Gave me my soul back," It's still such a strange thing to say out loud, "a lot of it clicked into place."

[panspermia]

"...Brushing it!" Greg leans back and smacks his forehead. "I didn't even think of that! Heck, that'll guarantee they can't recognize me." Blanche may have seen him as an old guy once, but never with combed hair.

[oceantier]

A nod from her, very small, and she goes quiet again, groping for words. There's a lot to say, but she isn't sure even how to broach it, and maybe . . .

Maybe he doesn't accept the apology she offered. Or remember it. Or . . . maybe, in actuality, he wonders why she didn't come and holds it against her.

That doesn't necessarily make sense, any of it. He said it, didn't he? -- That he was glad to see her?

But. He hasn't said that he forgives her, either.

She feels her insides sink. Her eyes shift away.

[panspermia]

She looks away, and Greg's shoulders tense up. Ahh... yeah, it's not so easy as coming in and making light of things. Too many disasters have happened lately, especially between the two of them. He rubs at his face, blowing out a breath.

"Lapis... I... what is it that happened?" He leans toward her, concern lining his face. "I know it wasn't your fault, but... I gotta know."

[4thdimensional]

Doc thinks on this, then nods. Those are important words---he mustn't forget his hope, mustn't give up. Marty certainly never had.

"You're right. No matter what, with all our strength and talent...they'll be taken down, even if I have to reinvent reality to do it. Even if we have to..." he corrects.

[oceantier]

Facts, at least, are a place to start . . . She's told the story several times, and even though it's still not easy, it's still far easier at this point than navigating the uncertainty of the space in between them. She shifts a little in her place, legs sliding out a little -- just enough to tuck her arms, still folded, back against herself.

"It was my fault." She doesn't hide from that; she's not sure she can stop believing it, even now. "I went looking for information in Pride -- for the memories. For a way to give them back. I had the access . . . I had to try."

She skips any mention of Steven -- of the nights leading up to that, staying with him, entering the private areas of Pride with him while shifted. Though he didn't have any involvement, the last thing she wants is for Greg to think that he did.

"I found her -- Lesedi Santiago's -- room." Her shoulders twitch as though she expects something to happen even now, the name handled like a bomb on the tongue. "In the middle of Pride -- a room without windows. Or doors. All her records, all her plans . . . She found me there. I couldn't--" Her breath is shallow even now in the retelling, tight in her throat; she presses her eyes shut. "There wasn't any water; I couldn't get it to come."

For a few moments, she's completely silent, closed away, as though for a moment she's there again behind her eyelids with Lesedi's fingers tight at her throat.

She shakes suddenly, hard, and her eyes snap open again, seeking out his face, anchoring herself to it.

"It was like I was in the middle of it again. The war on Earth, when I went home, when they put me into the mirror . . . Everyone . . . they were Gems; they wanted to do everything over again. If I didn't hurt them, they'd hurt me; they'd make all of it happen again. If I hesitated . . . voices. To remind me what would happen. To push me. To tell me I was weak."

". . . I wasn't strong enough. Again."

[panspermia]

Greg listens, hands clenched in silent terror and knuckles turning white. Lesedi... he should have known. Of course it was Lesedi. Instead of blocking away memories and leaving an empty and open slate like the musicians, she'd locked Lapis inside the worst of her past and used it against her. It's cruel, it's brutal, it's just like Pride to--

Greg shudders, slamming down on that train of thought before it can pull him deeper. Even now it's so easy to slip back there, and the last thing Lapis needs is someone else caught in the past.

"But that's not your fault, Lapis." He hesitates, before reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder. "You were hurt, and used, like the rest of us. No one's going to blame you for that. No one who's been here."

[panspermia]

Well, it's a better explanation for disappearance than getting trapped inside a crystal.

"You mean those helmet guys, right? Everyone made a big deal about them, but I never caught sight of them." Maybe that's for the best, though... if he'd known, he probably would have reported them to Blanche when the worst of it happened. "Guess you gotta keep a low profile when you have such a big thing in the works."

[panspermia]

Well, that's good, but Greg might be leaning a little away now, just in case.

Spontaneous combustion aside, he lets out a low whistle. "That's really something, jeez. I was already happy you got through to her, but... boy, that could have gone a lot worse for everyone. ...Not sure if you could have hurt her, though." Not to brag or anything but his girlfriend is really badass.

[faithfulflame]

Rei just smiles, leaning against a wall, and feeling a little emboldened by his reaction and up for a little teasing. "Well, we'll never know, now that we don't have to fight, but I could've easily brought the whole building down on our way out. If there weren't civilians inside, I would have. Blanche would have deserved it."

[missknight]

“It’s the perfect plan.” Or, at least, it will probably help a little bit. Connie knows all about how even a little change to your appearance can make all the difference. That’s what happens when you wear glasses, after all. “Do you need help? There is a lot of it.”

[giglio_madonna]

“That’s right, they’re the ones.” She presses the tips of her fingers together and smiles. “The one with the silver helmet saw me not too long after that time I went into the basement, you know… We did another performance together, even though there was all that programming. It felt amazing, like being myself again instead of muffled and scared. Of course, it only lasted for a moment…. When they left, things went back. But I didn’t forget.”

Luce grins. “It made things easier, after. No wonder they erased our memories, huh? Once you remember feeling something, then that’s it.”

[exhumerus]

Sans considers that for a few moments. The way he'd felt before coming over is probably given some context, now.

"Who better to attack your enemy than your other enemy, huh? Hate to admit it, but I'm pretty sure we were the guys there to do Blanche's dirty work for him. Even if it was something we basically wanted to do anyway."

"No offense, but I wouldn't exactly have chosen to show up right then if there hadn't been something driving me to do it. Something about that song of yours must have pushed it over the top."

Not that he hasn't been getting clawed at by the idea that he should return for a while, now, but at least this time it can been in the interest of a rescue instead of so he could turn himself in.

[oceantier]

She lets the hand stay, doesn't move away from it, but. "She used what was inside me already. It's not as though she put anything into me that wasn't already there. She twisted it, used the connection back to Malachite . . . but don't you understand? It was all there. I just wasn't strong enough to keep it back."

Her voice hasn't risen; there's no accusation in her tone -- just the edge of a plea, though it's hard to say for what. Still, though, she's not pulling away. This is the worst part of her, placed out onto the table for the world to see. While she's not -- can't be -- sorry to have that anger, it scares her sometimes with its virulence. Up until now for the most part, her rage has been her own burden, and she hasn't felt that it truly affects anyone but her.

There were benefits to not caring about anyone else. That luxury is gone.

Now . . . it's exposed, bare to the world, and it's been used like a knife against people she's come to dare to feel for. The others . . . they've been so kind, so understanding. But she doesn't deserve it. How can she?

She wants that forgiveness -- needs it, craves it. But how can she take it? How can they really offer it if they don't really see what she is?

Maybe he'll understand that. She dares to hope he'll understand that when he's been used himself.

[panspermia]

"Lapis. I've seen what you can do." His hand shifts on her, gentle and firm. "You've always scared the pants off of me, you know that? You're terrifying. Back home, and over here."

This might not be the best pep talk, but if she's not interested in beating around the bush, he won't either. She'd attacked and threatened him plenty often, even before Lesedi went and scrambled things up, and he'd be a fool to pretend that side of her wasn't there.

"Maybe you're got more Scared and Angry in you than you do Friend, right now. But, the only way we're gonna tip those scales is if we keep working at it."

[panspermia]

"You really are a hero." There's enough junk in his van that he can't truthfully claim he doesn't own a brush, but he sure hasn't seen it in years. "It takes a brave soul to tame this mane."

[panspermia]

"Sort of like a beacon in the dark, right? Even if it's not always shining, it showed you which direction to go."

He never got a helpful duet, and the more intense flashes of insight didn't come until far too much later. Greg leans his chin on his palm. "My life at home had enough in common here, it was a lot harder for me to get that sort of feeling until pretty late in the game."

[missknight]

“Well, I am a brave rescuer!” Right now, she can even say it with an honest grin. “We can use mine! And if it gets lost in your hair, well… We can always get a new one wherever we stop by next.”

Or ask to borrow Shep’s but she’d feel bad about losing one of his brushes.

[giglio_madonna]

“You seemed too down to earth to strike me as the typical rockstar type, Greg. I mean that as a compliment.” It’s made it easy to talk to him, be concerned. He’s always tried to be there for people. At least, when his soul has been his own.

“Why don’t you tell me what you remember of your home? I know for a lot of us, there’s still a lot that we don’t remember… But sometimes talking out loud helps jog things.”

[oceantier]

No, she wanted the truth -- and there's relief in the fact that he doesn't turn aside from it, doesn't sugarcoat it for her sake, doesn't hide from what she already knows is there. There's relief and release in it . . . His words release her from having to hide from it in turn to be acceptable, to sugarcoat or reason it away for him.

In simple words, he's given her the freedom to be who she is and the warmth to say he still cares . . . she still matters. The release and the gratitude chase across her features, and though she's still unsure about ducking underneath his arm for a hug, her cheek tilts, pressing against the back of the hand on her shoulder.