[IC Contact -- Snowblind]

[bookofnope]

[There is a click noise. It sounds as though it might be judging you.]

Comments

[bookofnope]

What? [That is the last thing he expects, and the moment of confusion, then indignity, then sheer mood whiplash almost makes him laugh. There's a bit of a rattly cackle to the word. That of all things?]

Lord, no. We've not yet at the dreary point at which I'm concerned with Zell's gossiping instinct. No, it's... [If only it were that simple.]

I tried to explain it to Angel. I... couldn't quite. It's... there are risks I have to take, and I cannot take them when you are there to... watch the possible fallout.

[phaseshifter]

[ SHE'S NOT CRYING, HER EYES ARE SWEATING ]

Okay. Thanks. And - stay safe, okay? Love you lots, even if you are incredibly dumb sometimes.

[ don't go gettinG YOURSELF MURDERED OR ANYTHING,,,,,,, ]

[warriorscribe]

[He understands, at least in part. Enough to realize, even in his state, that pointing out that dreading for his safety would hurt worse than watching it fail him would not be of any use.]

You feel it's the only way? What is it?

[His suspicion is, of course, the morgue - it's at the forefront of his mind when it comes to risks others might take that might help save them all. He would have tried for it, himself, if Angel and Harley hadn't been there to talk him into perspective on what he'd wanted out of his attempt to join the collective.]

[bookofnope]

Not the only way, but... [But a test case. An extreme action. The morgue is, indeed, a place of endless sick fascination. He tells himself it's about the nanites and the machine, but he can't entirely pretend. It's also about facing tangible demons.

He can't tell Enoch that when he's barely admitting it to himself.]

Ask Angel. I've given her the important details. I am not actively looking to sacrifice myself, but... it is the kind of thing that could go wrong.

[warriorscribe]

I- I don't really understand. But, I do understand not wanting to...make someone watch you put yourself in danger.

[After all, he had been ready to immobilize himself in the elementary school all those months ago out of desperation to learn and a lack of reason not to risk himself, until Clayton had come along and given him a reason.]

I would feel similarly if it were a severe risk I needed to take. But, knowing that- ...perhaps not now, not this risk, but I think that I would feel better if we were to share it. Fellow participants, rather than one as an observer. Would it be true for you, too?

[bookofnope]

[Beckett finds himself taking a deep breath, though it scrapes in his throat, somehow. It's such an honest question, request, coming from Enoch. He knows how sincere it is. And this sincerity makes him recoil all the more.

It's wrong. It's exactly what he's trying to avoid. And yet his talk with Angel is vivid in his mind. He can't keep them safe - he can't deny Enoch his choices, honestly made. Are they honestly made?]

I've always taken my risks alone. [It isn't true, but nobody who took them with him did it for love of him... did they? It's hard for him to think about it clearly now.] I don't want you there because you feel the need to share the danger, Enoch. That just means we're both in danger, rather than letting at least one of us stay safe.

[warriorscribe]

Is it only that? I don't think so. I've always been willing, to some degree at least. And-...

It isn't like Clayton, is it. I didn't want to hurt him, doing things he could never conceive of doing. Before that, I...I was planning, somewhere in the back of my mind, to try to force myself to stay in the school. I had died by being forced out.

[His self-preservation has never been his highest priority.]

You...you would hurt, too, but you would understand. I'm not betraying myself in offering this, and not trying to- to...

[He seems to have lost the word he's looking for. He is thoroughly exhausted, and it shows.]

...to cheapen your resolve? No, to...patronize you in some way. I'm not trying to do that. It's only- you're precious to me, and- [his voice breaks, and he swallows heavily.] - I don't want you to think you need to do this alone all the time. I'm willing, and not only for your sake.

[bookofnope]

[He says it quite clearly, not only for your sake, but that is not what Beckett hears among the confused reassurances. He knows he's precious to Enoch - that they're precious to each other - and that kills his ability to disconnect. Instead it brings back the promise he can't keep.]

Perhaps you do understand, then, that there are things I would do that you can't conceive of. The time we tried the torture, in the tower - [he should know better than to finish this thought, but it slips out under the push of the MN effect he isn't even really aware of yet:] Will Graham told me that he tried something similar with a companion. They pushed it further, and - they got something from it. A reaction.

[Maybe not a good reaction, but it's been in the back of his mind. He doesn't think, still, that he'd have done things differently in that case; but it's become emblematic in the cases where he would have.]

I don't fear being alone. Taking on danger alone. To me, that is freedom. I fear the opposite. Taking others where they wouldn't go themselves.

[warriorscribe]

[Being alone is freedom. The part of his mind still grasping at his attempt to join the collective instantly snatches it up as a bludgeon against the rest of him.

He's holding him back. He's nothing but a burden.]

They should have taken me...

[It's small, hardly audible, before he sucks in a deep, wet breath, and forces himself to focus on everything Beckett has said and done to contradict that idea, to show appreciation for their friendship. Even - no, especially - that ill-fated experiment. It had saved his life in the end, after all.]

...No. I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have said that. What did they find? Knowing what we do now, about the cult, it-...I doubt it could have been anything good, for them, for us, for the lingering spirits in the collective.

[bookofnope]

They - what?

[He doesn't know yet. He hasn't listened to Enoch's first message. He's trying so hard to keep what distance he can, where he can. But his voice nonetheless slips out alarmed and touched by guilt, because taken raises all sorts of deeply alarming associations.

And he knows he's not doing very well on the not hurting Enoch front.]

I - I don't know if the reaction is a good one. Graham's acquired some sort of... spirit companion, a presence about him. It might be the opposite of good. But it's something, you see, even if it tells us what not to do, it's something.

[warriorscribe]

I-...I see. Do you think we could have found something so they didn't have to, if- if our roles had been reversed? I think what we found anyway was more valuable, but-...

[But he had asked that from the start.]

I can't help but wonder, now, is that presence...the cult is a sickness, what if they've permanently turned one of them-

[His first thought is Lord help them, but it is countered by the knowledge that He can't, and he stops before he can say it. Then is the thought of someone being trapped the way he was under brainwashing, forever.

He can't help it. He starts sobbing.]

@totheark, video, Night 342; cw: gore

[0thingsonmymind]

*Its been awhile since he tried this, but with that weird need to share today...well he might as well. Maybe someone will get something from it.

And so he sends out video of experiments with the fleshmound. He's largely cutting it up, so there's a lot of blood. Enjoy.*

[bookofnope]

[Lord, is Enoch going to make him think about it? About the possibility of having him on the bed to be tortured, and maybe they would have gotten something if Beckett was the one administering the cruelty, as he'd certainly done before in the course of his search, with distaste but nonetheless with conviction, and hadn't his companions -

It had been for the search, of course, for answers, but it wasn't the search that had made it possible. It was the brotherhood of that search, shared like the mysteries of a secret religion. The one kind of brotherhood he cannot share with Enoch. Because Enoch is everything that was more - guidance, and faith, and a human kind of friendship he never knew he would regret losing quite so badly.

And then Enoch starts sobbing, and Beckett feels torn clean in half.]

They haven't. They're sure of that. Will is certain he's still himself, and he's not acted or spoken in any way that led us to doubt him. I don't think he could lie on this point. [The words tumble quickly out, the only thing he can think of to say, to dam the most acute pain of the moment.] I don't think we should have done differently. I don't. Not then. I know, I, I remember why we're doing all of this.

voice; day 346

[bookofnope]

[Well, this certainly is a treat to come back from the dead to. Since Beckett has no idea how long he's been dead, he doesn't know whether Brian had sent the message knowing he'd see it, or just being optimistic. It's touching either way. He really doesn't want to be touched now, but he's in a very... precarious mindspace.]

... I'm sorry, I don't know how long I've been gone.

[warriorscribe]

The spirit, the- I'm...

[He sniffles, trying to stop crying. The victim he's thinking of is the presence, who were they in the collective? But everything else Beckett's said, there's so many thoughts he needs to get out, and he doesn't have the capacity to weave them into anything but abrupt starts through new, lurching sobs as he abandons the distressing tangent entirely.]

You're right, it's...as I said, it's, what we got was more valuable. No matter how much it hurt, it, the lesson it taught and the reference to- to reality...

It's why I still want- most of your risks are ones I would take for myself. And the ones that I wouldn't...please consider...

[He trails off into shivering breaths, focusing on getting his tears and his own rambling pain under control. The tears, he manages. The pained rambling, not quite so much.]

I would go. Even if you think I wouldn't. Even if it involves harm to you. I can't inflict it, but- I want to be there for you after.

[bookofnope]

[If only Beckett could believe him.

Not that he suspects Enoch of dishonesty - never that. The thought is absurd. But he cannot think of him as choosing rationally either, choosing wholly for himself. Too much attachment, too many emotions. Too much need. All the things he tries to remove himself from.

Because - and he doesn't even try to deny that anymore - because he is a coward. But it's who he is.]

I - [And now the words feel stuck. He licks his lips, passes his tongue over blunted fangs.] I can't be what you need me to be. I never was. I can't. I have to go. I... always have to go.

[warriorscribe]

[It likely doesn't help that Enoch never chooses his risks rationally in the first place. Nor does he ever make decisions wholly for himself. He lives for other people. And when those people don't live forever, that's a problem.

Enoch's first reaction is panic at that always. He's had enough of being left behind. And for a moment, it seems as if he may lose control of his tears again.

He wrests them under control, but only barely, a persistent waver in his voice.]

No. No- I love you. You are what I need you to be. You, you chose compassion. I won't forget that. I can't. As surely as choosing to stop defined me.

As long as you'll come back. [There's a subtle emphasis on that. Please don't leave him behind. He's so tired of being left behind. He doesn't think he can take it happening again.]

And remember- my offer will always stand. I never did like being the one to-....to wait and worry in safety... So I'll always be willing, as surely as I'll always love you.

[But he won't force his presence on him. That's what's maddening about it. He has never liked this role in all his life, but...]

[bookofnope]

[And, bitter irony, the more he offers and gives, the more Beckett recoils, pulls back from taking, driven by his nature and his understanding of that nature. Fearing that always as much as Enoch does, but fearing its ring of truth. Enoch lives for other people. But Beckett lives for the search. No man may serve two masters.

He chose compassion, but now he has to choose again, and the choice is much harder.]

I'll come back, [he blurts out, though he holds back the always.] But I can't make you any more promises. Goodbye, Enoch.

voice; night 342

[bookofnope]

[That day's going-ons have had Beckett on extreme edge ever since his conversation with Angel on Flynn's post. He curses himself even as he opens Brian's message, and worse when he turns on the tablet to answer. Don't don't don't bloody hell -

Typical.]

You've... decided to really go all out, haven't you.

text

[0thingsonmymind]

yes

ihad to
learn

*Also he was bored and he feels better when he's doing something.*




but
itwas not
use ful

text

[0thingsonmymind]

ithink not
too
long


whereare
?

cw: suicidal ideations-ish, again (sorry, again)

[warriorscribe]

[He had promised to come back two or three times by now. Enoch's raw, struggling mind still imagines a finality in that "goodbye".

There is still a part of it that believes he should have tried harder to join the collective. To simply not be, except in a capacity to impact him from far away, and never be a true burden again.

His first instinct is to say it again, I love you, but it catches in his throat this time, his heart pounding out his twisted panic.]

I-... I'll always-...

[He wills himself to say it. Anchor himself more firmly to his will to live, of which love has always been its greatest factor.

But all he manages is a choked-back sob. He cannot justify the thought that he holds someone so dear to him back.]

...Good luck, Beckett. I'll be here, I hope.

[That's the best promise he can make, too. He hangs up, feeling a thousand screams trapped in his lungs and throat.]

voice

[bookofnope]

Had to learn... [He remembers his conversation with Watson earlier that day. That very strange conversation.] Your eyes, Brian... do you think you are being affected by something?

voice

[bookofnope]

The police station. Damn it... [That's the opposite of where he wants to be.] I've got nothing. The last thing I remember is the night of 329. When I was - when I decided I was going to go.

permatext

[0thingsonmymind]

you wentto do
mor gue experi ment

house said therewas
acc i dent

ican send
vi deo