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latest status update 3/6/2018

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[ct_7567]

[ This is all wrong. He ought to be the one consoling Martin, not the other way around. That's just the right of things. And protestation is on his tongue, natural as anything - that that may be the way of living things, but it is not his way, that he ought to be better, stronger, that even if he wasn't, he ought to have the restraint to keep it away from tender souls like Martin.

The words die there. The moment he says that is the moment that Martin will take them as gospel. He can't internalize that sort of thing, not when they've worked so hard so that Martin feels comfortable expressing anything at all to them. A careless word could sweep that away.

Martin listens to them. Whether they want him to or not. It's good, he thinks, that Martin isn't meeting his eyes. Rex isn't sure if he could meet them right now, not with shame twisting in his gut as he furiously scrubs his tears away.

Normal. Even Darkovs had known it to be normal. ]

...when'd you get to be so smart?

[darkov]

[that's a strange response. not that Martin really knew what kind of response to expect, but--that's still a strange one. even while the rush of alarm in finding him was wearing off, there's still enough of an edge to be properly taken aback, though there's no impulse to back away to follow it this time.]

I'm...I didn't...come up with that. Myself, I mean. That's...it's what...[he grimaces.] My, my mother would say. And, and grandfather. That's all. It--it might not even be right, I just...

[he stops himself for lack of breath and a broken train of thought; one other is barreling in before he can even finish words. this one he thinks on for a moment before saying anything at all.]

Archie says...it's normal, too.

[ct_7567]

Yeah. He would.

[ Thank the little gods for Archie. It's not a statement he thought he'd be thinking with great frequency upon meeting the man, as obnoxious and careless as Rex had thought of him, but it's a statement he thinks quite often nonetheless. The man's more in touch with the way things ought to be instead of the way things are, sometimes. It's very possible that Martin would be better off with someone like Archie, capable of nurturing him towards a destination rather than a couple of old soldiers who wouldn't know normalcy if it came and bit them in the face. ]

I'm sure he's right, of course, [ he says, a little distant, his fingers on the dresser curling up, his thumb gripping against it so hard that he's certain there will be little half-moon indentations later. No matter. It's the sort of control that's sorely needed right now.

The sigh that winds its way out of him is slow and meandering, as though some mighty beast has finally laid to rest after a very, very long time. He feels as though he owes Martin some explanation beyond it's natural. ]

I wish I could have saved her. That's all.

[ It's a wish they all share. It didn't do any of them much good, in the end. ]

[darkov]

[the atmosphere Rex's heavy sigh brings is almost as heavy. more and more, Martin gets the feeling he's missing some sort of cue -- that there's something else he should be doing or saying. it seems to always be the other way around, poor Rex trying his damndest to do right by this anxious kid in times of strife. it's not like he's never been around grief or dismay, either, only...the ones around him, even while suffering, always seemed to find ways to put him first instead.

he's heard talk like this before, though. the should-haves and could-haves. should've done better. could've done more. should've stopped this or that. could've moved faster. should've saved them. could've been stronger. should've been the one to take their place...

Martin swallows on a painful lump in his throat. he wishes Rex could've saved her, too.]

You tried.

[it sounds so useless and bleak, even if it's true. it feels like every useless affirmation he's ever given himself when things go wrong: at least he tried.]

It's good that you did.

[ct_7567]

[ He tried. Pah. That's the sort of thing you say to a kid - the sort of thing that he's certain he and the others said to Martin, which is why the words are leaving his mouth now. That holds far more weight for someone like Martin, he thinks.

Rex always tries. At a certain point, after a certain amount of failure, it seems like a paltry excuse. But here Martin is, trying his best to comfort him, their roles uncomfortably reversed. He can't rebuff him. Truthfully, he wouldn't rebuff anyone trying to comfort him as such; his wounds are his alone, and are hardly the faults of those around him.

He passes a hand over his face, unsure of what to say, feeling more unsteady than ever before now that he's been caught in this moment of strife. He should have something to say, some word of wisdom, some... ]

We all did, kid.

[darkov]

[Martin looks away, feeling an unwelcome wave of shame. there should be more to this than hopeless words, he knows>. thinking back to the despair he's endured before, to the efforts he'd subjected the ones he loves to keep him afloat, he finds that he's done very little if none of it in return, and not for lack of knowing. he just never tries, even though trying is the only thing he's ever given himself credit for. disgraceful.

but trying to help Rex comes with the scary prospect of rejection: he doesn't know the way the man takes to grief, having just stumbled across it here. whether or not being seen in the state would make him angry or agitated.

he's not been yelled out yet, though, has he? Rex could've done exactly that from the start and he wouldn't have been wrong for it.

Martin peeks out of the corner of his eye when a weary hand moves in his peripheral. being obscured from sight means it's safe to look and move in turn, and after a hesitation to let Rex's words sink to their full weight, Martin puts a hand atop the one still on the dresser.]

[ct_7567]

[ Martin's hand on his - it's almost too much, as gentle and tender a gesture as it is, this quiet attempt at comfort when Martin is no doubt thrown for a loop in the face of Rex's grief, when he's still warring with his own. He hates that he can hear his breath catch in his throat, and he hates that he can hear the shakiness of his exhale even more. He knows he's lucky that Martin's taken this as well as he has after he found out that Rex was the one who had been the one to...

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, looking away from Martin but not removing his hand, willing his treacherous body to follow his wishes and finally stop all this nonsense already. It doesn't work; he can feel more tears escaping him already, paltry though they may be, and after he's wiped those away too, he plants one hand square atop of Martin's head.

He's a good kid. He's always been a good kid. ]

You deserve a more peaceful life than the one you've gotten, lad. I can tell you that much.

[ No more sorries - that won't do. But he feels that remorse down to his very toes. ]

[darkov]

[if the hand wasn't consolation enough, perhaps the fact Martin doesn't watch those remaining rogue tears fall could be. he knows his own are humiliating on display, and though he doesn't know Rex's mind, he can at least do what feels right until told otherwise. it's all he can do, really.

and in speaking of feeling: he feels a beat of...something, being told what is deserved. his unhappy thoughts have quite a lot to say in regard to what's deserved or not, most of it counter to what Rex and others would have him believe.

Martin's eyes stay fixed on the drawn shade of the window, his voice holding a grim note not dissimilar to Andy's, though all his own.]

We weren't made for that.

[they were made to fight, kill, and endure the struggles and deaths of their kin. that doesn't make it right or easy or good...it just makes it...true. that's the best Martin's got right now: Lumas doctrine is real and true, even if it's not good. the same could probably be said for those who made Rex and his kin.]

[ct_7567]

[ No. Darkovs weren't. And Cassandra had been made for death, marked for it as certainly as anything else. And Andy had been made to live forever, a fate he'd wish on nobody. They'd all been made to be subject to their own fates. ]

What you were made for doesn't always reflect what's deserved.

[ There are too many that didn't deserve their fates. They were made for it. That doesn't make it right. ]

[darkov]

[it's hard for Martin to tell who makes the rules when it comes to what is and isn't deserved; more often than not, he's deferred to listening to the rotten voice in his head that tells him of only the worst of things are what he's warranted. that's changed a lot in just the span of a year, and not easily, not cleanly. and why should it? radical thinking, after fourteen years of indoctrination to the contrary...

it's different for Rex, too, isn't it? his life was set on a fixed course not of his making, too. made to fight, kill, and endure death, just as Darkovs were.

and if that's the case...]

Then it's the same for you. Right?

[ct_7567]

[ Rex audibly pauses, surprised. Martin always pulls this at the very last second, doesn't he? He doesn't deserve better now, per se - he knew exactly what he was getting himself into in a way that Martin didn't. Couldn't. But the lad's always been perceptive like that.

It's easier to think of it bigger. Broader. His people, not just him. ]

...yeah. My lot deserved better than what they got too.

[darkov]

[it doesn't fix anything in the present, but Martin still feels a little beat of satisfaction nonetheless in hearing that. a kind of further cementing of their kinship -- not just by all the papers they signed, but by the lives they've lived and struggled through. if Rex can say his kind deserve more, then...maybe it's truer that Martin would, too.

his hand lingers atop Rex's for a beat longer before withdrawing. he nods vaguely, turning partly away.]

I think so, too.

[Cass deserved better, too. they all do.]

[ct_7567]

[ He shouldn't need reassurance. He shouldn't need it from a kid of all people either, his kid, suffering the way he has been. He could let Martin walk away, as he usually does. But they haven't talked about it properly, have they? What Rex had done, to someone Martin loves? They just settled back into their ordinary routine, ignoring that vacuum that surrounds them like a shroud, not knowing how Martin felt about the way Cassandra had passed, not knowing if he and Andy or anyone else had spoken of it at all.

Mouth dry, he speaks, his voice as matter-of-fact as it always is, that familiar low rumble in his chest. ]

Do you, now? Even after what happened?

[darkov]

[he nods once more, staring at the window. the comfortable chill radiates from his chest to his arms, makes them feel for a moment heavy, then barely there at all.]

She said... [he swallows down on the crack in his voice.] We deserve better. Than what we were raised for. You and me.

She told me that a lot.

[and Rex? Rex is...even if he's like Martin in ways, he's better. even if he pulled that trigger. he'd never do it to be cruel. he's good, all the way through. there's no wretched piece of him, not the way Martin has.]

We shouldn't have to...kill them. The ones we love.

[ct_7567]

She did. Didn't she.

[ Cassandra's words are helping him even now, damn her. It shouldn't have been her. It should have...

Maybe it shouldn't have been any of them. ]

You're doing what I told you.

[darkov]

[Martin's posture shifts a little as he tries to place what he means. a faint bit of anxiety flutters in his stomach before dissolving, but it does enough to have him scour recent memory for what Rex is referring to.

what he told him. he tells him a lot of things, and none of them about the possibility of having to put down a treasured person -- a family member.]

I don't know what you mean.

[he finally looks back, squinting a little for some sign of clue on Rex himself.]

[ct_7567]

I told you, once, that the best way to honour someone's life is to carry them with you. To respect the things that you had learned from them, if you thought them to be right.

[ Martin doesn't remember - or if he had, it's not something he's actively thinking about. But he absorbed it nonetheless. Maybe he's gotten better at dealing with grief, after all that he's been through. Or perhaps he's just puzzling his way through it, bashing it into different shapes to try to make it make sense. ]

You're carrying her with you.

[darkov]

...

[his gaze flickers away as he processes the weight of that answer. the weight of...carrying another person. their lessons.

is that the heavy feeling in his chest? is it the same for Rex?

he nods vaguely, starting to turn away from the window, his eyes settling on the unfinished laundry on the bed.]

Do you want help finishing up?

[ct_7567]

...no. No, that's fine. I can handle it. [ God knows he should be able to handle that much without melting down again. He probably will after Martin leaves the room, but he'll maintain as much dignity as he can. ]

Go say hello to Andy. Help her get dinner on.

[ Even if that just means picking out take-out. ]

tapdances off-stage w this endtag

[darkov]

...Yes, sir.

[there's more he should do or say, Martin thinks. there's some gap he's not filling to make this better -- not right, because he certainly knows he'd never be able to do that. but...turning away, leaving Rex with the silence of Cassandra's room...

was it really enough to try comforting him? trying is, after all, the only thing he believes himself truly capable of. but trying to help Rex isn't the same as doing it, and despite the weight of weariness pressing down upon him, stifling the means to exert so much effort and care, Martin still does care.

he hates what this has all come to. she was right. they deserve better. Rex does. there shouldn't have to be more wars to fight -- especially among each other, against their wills.

he's finally, really grasping onto that and believing. they deserve better than this.]