[In the fitful grogginess after the injection, and the clearing of his mind as the anomaly vanished, Enoch checks on Quark, then himself for injuries (nothing but a faint bruise where he'd hit his head on a rack of equipment while anomaly-dodging), and then remembers one of the more powerful conversations he'd had last night and drags his tablet over, still not quite alert yet, but alert enough to get a private conversation open.]
[By all rights, he should be relieved. Beckett knows this, and it makes him uniquely nervous that he isn't. He has full insight into his own confused emotions - an unburdening, yes, but also a sense of raw loss, the feeling of something having been torn out of living tissue - regrets of many shades, and he knows the danger of all of them. They all lead back to the part of him that thinks, I should have let her take my throat.
She's dead, though, even if it were her. So he survives. He flicks the video on and finds a faint comfort in the sight of Enoch's living face. His own is hollowed out and pale, but that's normal. He always looks dead.]
This... should have been more of a relief than it is, [he surprises himself by confessing, right from the get-go.]
[He nods tiredly, coming to a similar conclusion from a somewhat different starting point. For him, it is that nothing came of it. They suffered through this torment at the hands of these things that at least looked and sounded like their loved ones, and didn't even learn anything. He'd retread the same mental ground again and again in an effort to find anything new and all they'd had was one of those "spider bites" they hadn't had in quite a while and then nothing. Pain and humiliation he can't even use to help boost anyone else up.]
I know. It's- I can't help but think, did we overlook something in all of that we could use to help one another somehow? I'm grateful it's over, and yet... Such an abrupt end feels...wrong. It's worrying.
Wrong, yes... but right to the pattern. Something happens, we scramble, the admin steps in and returns everything to her idea of normal. It makes sense. Not a deliberate test, simply her control slipping, and taking stopgag measures...
[He's fairly convinced of that at least. That they are not being tested - not by this place, not to any end. What tests they personally manage to find anyway... well.]
Not that the whole affair isn't worrying. Just... I don't think we are being haunted or abused for our own sake.
[Beckett finds himself chuckling hoarsely, a scrape in the throat.] I think we're past helping. One way or another...
[Does he mean what Enoch just said, or does he mean something more - something about everything they have experienced? It only occurs to him after already speaking that he isn't sure.] I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't say anything except those accusations - over and over again. It meant nothing. I - I told her she can take what she wants from me. Drink from me, even. But... maybe I hadn't found the way to make her understand.
[Past helping...He does feel more hollow, more broken, than he has in a very long time. The frequency of the awful happenings here, the long stretch of time without a companion before Quark joined him, the two sleepless nights and the one just now spent with a pair of anomalies crammed into the shed with them, begging them in tormented cries to give them something they had but could not identify. Begging desperately for help they could not give.
And yet, the mention of the idea sparks a reflexive defiance against it, somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe they are. Maybe even if they escape they'll be too emotionally battered or too physically ill to function. But until that maybe is a certainly, he can't give up. So he keeps that defiance, leaves it to grow and bolster him so he can share it with others, and props himself up on his weathered, overstuffed backpack. Beckett appears to want to talk; he'll oblige and listen, prompting gently for more.]
[He wants to, and he doesn't. Every acknowledgement he gives to the creature and what it called up in him is a step towards a deep abyss. Because it wasn't her, and if it was, well, that is the anchor at the end of a very long chain of reasoning ready to be tossed overboard and drag him with it, all tangled.
Painful metaphors. He shakes his head.] Her name was Lucita de Aragon. My companion, and Anatole's - his longer than mine. It's... a long story. We weren't on the best of terms, before she died. [And what a death that had been...]
Yours - Michael - an angel, wasn't he? One more reason not to believe they were truly the ones whose forms they took...
[Even Enoch doesn't know if his initial expression is a smile or a grimace. Angels can die. Have died. Baraqel was eaten by his own child, Fire Nephilim consumed by its pain and trying to take everything down with it. Poor thing. He is torn between correcting Beckett and upholding this sliver of hope. He can't cling to it however much he wants to, knowing its premise is a lie, and would it damage their friendship if he did knowingly lie to him, even for his own comfort? He doesn't want to give him a truth he couldn't bear, and yet, truth is important to them both...]
...I'm afraid angels aren't invincible. But, you might still be right. Winter did say they were tied to our memory of them. They may yet be only that.
[They covered this ground before. But at least now, the anomalies are gone. It's quiet and somewhat collected, not desperate and hurting. Repeating it does help him, as well. And Beckett has steered the topic to Michael, and perhaps, Enoch thinks, he would enjoy another glimpse into a world well before even his own considerable time. It would be welcome to him, too, after all that pain, to think of his friends from home in their moments of happiness.]
I should like to think Michael is doing well, as well. Who else will tease Lucifel about his love of human fashion? Who will Lucifel tease for wearing his hair so long?
[Now that brings a true smile out of the strained hybrid he'd started with. He misses their loving bickering. Lucifel tried so hard to act as if he didn't care as much as he did, but Enoch knew better. He'd seen Lucifel smile - genuinely smile - for his twin.]
No, I was thinking about... [About how it should not be possible, in his theology such as it is, for however great or strange a power to snatch and twist an Angel of the Lord in this way. But then it has snatched Enoch. For all he knows there are reasons. Reasons... and should he demand to know them, or have faith? To let lie is not in his nature.
Enoch's smile surprises him - though that too is like Enoch, to take that particular refuge. It wakes his curiosity, and for once he thinks he could indulge it. Memory is what one makes of it, and this, he imagines, is how Enoch would like to remember his friends. Imagining them well. It's a kindness to be able to do so.]
Tell me more about them. They sound very - well, human, for lack of a better word.
[Exactly what he'd hoped. They'd had enough pain the previous night, and if talking about it didn't help them, the least he could do is lead his vampire friend away from it, to something nicer. Maybe this would heal if left alone.
His smile borders on a laugh for a moment. Because...]
It was a surprise to me, too. How human they were, aside from their lack of perspective. How much I could relate their relationship to that of mine with my own brothers and sisters. They're twin brothers, the right and left hands of God, and look alike save their hair and eyes. They love each other just like any human brothers would, and even their arguments end with smiles. They're different as day and night - they might even represent them, in fact - but I think it makes them care for one another all the more.
['Human' isn't always a kind word from Beckett, and he isn't sure how he feels about this entirely - about Enoch's very human angel friends, the right and left hands of God who can easily talk eye to eye with a mortal, though perhaps it's Enoch's status as not-quite-mortal anymore that makes it so. He's used to ancients and powers who are beyond him and his kind. He listens with curiosity, with a touch of the jealousy he never quite stops feeling when Enoch is concern, and perhaps even a bit unnerved by what he hears.]
Was it shocking, then, when you first met them - however that happened? That they were so personable? Or - surely this isn't all there is to them.
[He laughs, in spite of the lingering rawness in his heart that makes it feel more hollow than it is.]
Oh, they didn't seem so human before I saw them together. You would be surprised what perspective means. Angels, until they are taught, don't understand death - they know of it, and they know humans die. But they do not understand what it is to lose. They do not understand what it is to learn - they are created with all the knowledge and skill they need to perform their roles in Heaven and interact with it and each other. They know that humans do not have this advantage. But they don't understand it. They didn't know what it truly meant until I had questions for them to answer. They don't know the weight of choice, lacking the ability to choose their own purpose...
I...could go on. But it all comes down to one thing: empathy does not come naturally to them. They must learn it, without the benefit of a child's flexible mind. It was some time before I realized why they were as they were. I was...a little disillusioned at first, if I recall correctly.
[Angels without empathy, of all things? Disillusionment seems like a very understated response, even - or perhaps especially from Enoch. Beckett has known enough strange beings in his unlife, ancients and immortals, to understand - or so he thinks at least - the way his friend describes the angels. Much of the time it is exactly this. Humans lose and learn. Others rarely, barely do. His own kind is very much an example - though to draw the parallel doesn't seem right.
It is remarkable that Enoch has remained who he is, in such company... but perhaps the explanation is easy enough, considering Enoch.]
But they can be taught - and you have taught them, haven't you? [Of course he has. It's practically what Enoch does.] Were you... meant to? Do you think that is one reason why you were chosen as you were?
I-...I never thought of it. But of course, that's why them...
[It's soft, startled realization, his eyes widening as his mind snatches up the idea to examine it. He's right. Isn't it strange that, for a task where his guardians were only required to watch and provide guidance from afar, all five of them were among the highest ranked in Heaven, the one closest to him, at his side always, the highest of them all? Couldn't any group of angels with similar knowledge sets have sufficed? That's the only thought he manages to keep to himself, because the rest of his revelation he cannot keep from sharing.]
I think that may have-... I didn't teach them, not deliberately. They lacked exposure, and traveling with me provided that. Even then, I'm not certain how well Raphael and Gabriel have learned. Michael seemed to have begun to understand... But they were all transformed into swans, always high above me and out of sight. Lucifel was at my side through as much as he was able...and it was his effort to learn that made me realize in the first place why they were so...strange.
...I may not have been chosen to teach. But I do not think it would have gone well had God not chosen someone who couldn't understand and forgive them...
[He hadn't expected to be given Enoch such insight, and the realization of its extent, and its meaning, sends a surge of unexpected satisfaction through Beckett. There, he had found an answer for someone, a moment of true meaning. The least he could do for his friend, who had taught him much as well. How like Enoch not to fully grasp the extent of his own ability, his gifts.
Humble bastard. Bless his human heart.]
I don't think such things can be taught deliberately. It's more about making an example, perhaps - after all, you've done it for me. [It's hardly a confession, so simply and sincerely he says it. Just a statement of fact, if one he's deeply grateful for.]
Old immortals learn slowly. If they haven't yet, then perhaps your work isn't done, my friend. God doesn't seem one to leave things unfinished...
[As the fount of words in the rush of unexpected insight trails off and Beckett picks up in the silence, Enoch quiets and listens. The conversation has already been a salve to his heart after the pain of the previous night, though he'd begun it to help Beckett; at least he seemed to have benefited just as well.
This tendency of his, to underestimate or never notice his own impact, to attribute such a thing to the other party, is what gives his friend's statement of fact all the emotional weight of the confession it could have been but wasn't.]
Have I? [He hesitates to say it as if he scarcely dares to think it.] I thought what I saw in you was earned trust, the privilege of seeing something you didn't show others. Had I really...?
[He chokes up, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as they crinkle in a warm smile. It wasn't the same as the angels. The angels had never known. Beckett had been raised as a human. He had once known. It was not discovery but rediscovery, and the thought that he had helped him reconnect with a piece of himself forgotten, or perhaps never properly developed...
His free hand rises to cover his heart, as if he could capture the warmth in the twinge of emotion there and keep it.]
I'm- I'm honored, to have been able to do this for you.
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branchandroot
@Enoch, video; Backdated to morning 231 (after the anomaly event)
Date: 2017-05-19 04:02 am (UTC)Beckett? Are you all right?
video; private; probably cw suicide ideation
Date: 2017-05-26 12:44 pm (UTC)She's dead, though, even if it were her. So he survives. He flicks the video on and finds a faint comfort in the sight of Enoch's living face. His own is hollowed out and pale, but that's normal. He always looks dead.]
This... should have been more of a relief than it is, [he surprises himself by confessing, right from the get-go.]
no subject
Date: 2017-05-27 06:54 am (UTC)I know. It's- I can't help but think, did we overlook something in all of that we could use to help one another somehow? I'm grateful it's over, and yet... Such an abrupt end feels...wrong. It's worrying.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-28 02:40 pm (UTC)[He's fairly convinced of that at least. That they are not being tested - not by this place, not to any end. What tests they personally manage to find anyway... well.]
Not that the whole affair isn't worrying. Just... I don't think we are being haunted or abused for our own sake.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-29 12:42 am (UTC)[He shakes his head. He's off track now. He knows it, somehow, somewhere in his bleary recovering mind.]
-...This isn't helping, is it?
no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 01:06 pm (UTC)[Does he mean what Enoch just said, or does he mean something more - something about everything they have experienced? It only occurs to him after already speaking that he isn't sure.] I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't say anything except those accusations - over and over again. It meant nothing. I - I told her she can take what she wants from me. Drink from me, even. But... maybe I hadn't found the way to make her understand.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 06:57 pm (UTC)And yet, the mention of the idea sparks a reflexive defiance against it, somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe they are. Maybe even if they escape they'll be too emotionally battered or too physically ill to function. But until that maybe is a certainly, he can't give up. So he keeps that defiance, leaves it to grow and bolster him so he can share it with others, and props himself up on his weathered, overstuffed backpack. Beckett appears to want to talk; he'll oblige and listen, prompting gently for more.]
Who was she?
no subject
Date: 2017-05-31 03:31 pm (UTC)Painful metaphors. He shakes his head.] Her name was Lucita de Aragon. My companion, and Anatole's - his longer than mine. It's... a long story. We weren't on the best of terms, before she died. [And what a death that had been...]
Yours - Michael - an angel, wasn't he? One more reason not to believe they were truly the ones whose forms they took...
no subject
Date: 2017-06-01 04:35 am (UTC)...I'm afraid angels aren't invincible. But, you might still be right. Winter did say they were tied to our memory of them. They may yet be only that.
[They covered this ground before. But at least now, the anomalies are gone. It's quiet and somewhat collected, not desperate and hurting. Repeating it does help him, as well. And Beckett has steered the topic to Michael, and perhaps, Enoch thinks, he would enjoy another glimpse into a world well before even his own considerable time. It would be welcome to him, too, after all that pain, to think of his friends from home in their moments of happiness.]
I should like to think Michael is doing well, as well. Who else will tease Lucifel about his love of human fashion? Who will Lucifel tease for wearing his hair so long?
[Now that brings a true smile out of the strained hybrid he'd started with. He misses their loving bickering. Lucifel tried so hard to act as if he didn't care as much as he did, but Enoch knew better. He'd seen Lucifel smile - genuinely smile - for his twin.]
no subject
Date: 2017-06-02 11:15 am (UTC)Enoch's smile surprises him - though that too is like Enoch, to take that particular refuge. It wakes his curiosity, and for once he thinks he could indulge it. Memory is what one makes of it, and this, he imagines, is how Enoch would like to remember his friends. Imagining them well. It's a kindness to be able to do so.]
Tell me more about them. They sound very - well, human, for lack of a better word.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-03 05:48 am (UTC)His smile borders on a laugh for a moment. Because...]
It was a surprise to me, too. How human they were, aside from their lack of perspective. How much I could relate their relationship to that of mine with my own brothers and sisters. They're twin brothers, the right and left hands of God, and look alike save their hair and eyes. They love each other just like any human brothers would, and even their arguments end with smiles. They're different as day and night - they might even represent them, in fact - but I think it makes them care for one another all the more.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-05 02:26 pm (UTC)Was it shocking, then, when you first met them - however that happened? That they were so personable? Or - surely this isn't all there is to them.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-06 03:24 am (UTC)Oh, they didn't seem so human before I saw them together. You would be surprised what perspective means. Angels, until they are taught, don't understand death - they know of it, and they know humans die. But they do not understand what it is to lose. They do not understand what it is to learn - they are created with all the knowledge and skill they need to perform their roles in Heaven and interact with it and each other. They know that humans do not have this advantage. But they don't understand it. They didn't know what it truly meant until I had questions for them to answer. They don't know the weight of choice, lacking the ability to choose their own purpose...
I...could go on. But it all comes down to one thing: empathy does not come naturally to them. They must learn it, without the benefit of a child's flexible mind. It was some time before I realized why they were as they were. I was...a little disillusioned at first, if I recall correctly.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-11 08:36 am (UTC)It is remarkable that Enoch has remained who he is, in such company... but perhaps the explanation is easy enough, considering Enoch.]
But they can be taught - and you have taught them, haven't you? [Of course he has. It's practically what Enoch does.] Were you... meant to? Do you think that is one reason why you were chosen as you were?
no subject
Date: 2017-06-12 06:18 am (UTC)[It's soft, startled realization, his eyes widening as his mind snatches up the idea to examine it. He's right. Isn't it strange that, for a task where his guardians were only required to watch and provide guidance from afar, all five of them were among the highest ranked in Heaven, the one closest to him, at his side always, the highest of them all? Couldn't any group of angels with similar knowledge sets have sufficed? That's the only thought he manages to keep to himself, because the rest of his revelation he cannot keep from sharing.]
I think that may have-... I didn't teach them, not deliberately. They lacked exposure, and traveling with me provided that. Even then, I'm not certain how well Raphael and Gabriel have learned. Michael seemed to have begun to understand... But they were all transformed into swans, always high above me and out of sight. Lucifel was at my side through as much as he was able...and it was his effort to learn that made me realize in the first place why they were so...strange.
...I may not have been chosen to teach. But I do not think it would have gone well had God not chosen someone who couldn't understand and forgive them...
no subject
Date: 2017-06-13 09:57 am (UTC)Humble bastard. Bless his human heart.]
I don't think such things can be taught deliberately. It's more about making an example, perhaps - after all, you've done it for me. [It's hardly a confession, so simply and sincerely he says it. Just a statement of fact, if one he's deeply grateful for.]
Old immortals learn slowly. If they haven't yet, then perhaps your work isn't done, my friend. God doesn't seem one to leave things unfinished...
no subject
Date: 2017-06-14 12:27 am (UTC)This tendency of his, to underestimate or never notice his own impact, to attribute such a thing to the other party, is what gives his friend's statement of fact all the emotional weight of the confession it could have been but wasn't.]
Have I? [He hesitates to say it as if he scarcely dares to think it.] I thought what I saw in you was earned trust, the privilege of seeing something you didn't show others. Had I really...?
[He chokes up, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as they crinkle in a warm smile. It wasn't the same as the angels. The angels had never known. Beckett had been raised as a human. He had once known. It was not discovery but rediscovery, and the thought that he had helped him reconnect with a piece of himself forgotten, or perhaps never properly developed...
His free hand rises to cover his heart, as if he could capture the warmth in the twinge of emotion there and keep it.]
I'm- I'm honored, to have been able to do this for you.