ArchivedLogs:Good Bad News

Good Bad News
Or Bad Good News (or potentially not actually news. >_<')
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Micah, Jackson
In Absentia	29 January 2014 Talking over the implications of that dream after some waking assessment. (Part of the Morpheus TP.)
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Upstairs - Greenwich Village
The upper floor of this apartment holds the bedrooms; one master bedroom and three smaller ones. One has been converted to a lounge, couches and /more/ books and a large desk by its window. The other two smaller bedrooms upstairs, in strange departure from the rest of the house's style, seem decorated more with younger occupants in mind. One of them, styled largely in purples and blues, has a pair of twin beds with matching butterfly-patterned bedspreads and a similar fabric for the window curtains; a wealth of stuffed toys is neatly arranged on both. The other is very green, its bedspread green-and-black striped; the walls are covered with a host of movie posters. Between the two bedrooms stands a bathroom, cheerfully decorated with colourful mosaic fish in its tiles. The master bedroom, in contrast to the paler, earthy scheme outside, is warm and rich, decorated in deep reds. The exquisitely crafted furniture is dark, with reddish undertones to the mahogany wood. The king-sized bed is stocked with an overabundance of pillows, and more cushions rest in the windowseat. One wall holds a spacious walk-in closet. A table, low to the ground, sits on a thick rug between the bed and the entrance, the right height for kneeling rather than chairs; the checked pattern carved into its surface marks it as a chessboard, though the pieces are not in evidence. The master bathroom adjoins the bedroom; it is large, done in black marble, with an overly spacious glass-walled shower and a similarly large jacuzzi bathtub. In most times probably Lucien would be offering tea. Or food. Or alcohol. Or /something/. But today he offers very /little/, conversation included. He's put a satiny black robe on over satiny black pajamas and after letting in his guests simply heads straight back to his bedroom. What he /does/ present them each with is a flower. An iridescent white moonstone-petaled snowdrop for Micah, a shining black hematite-petaled snowdrop for Jackson. After which he drops back down into bed, hand curling into a fist, his thumb pressing to the ring he wears on his middle finger, in silence. Micah is dressed, already, for work, in case he has to hurry off after delivering Jax home later in the morning. His hair has been combed, teeth and face washed, TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis donned. He twirls the little stone flower between his fingers carefully, inspecting it for a moment before looking back up at Lucien. "I got...the same thing sittin' at home. S'part of this thing...that I think I been doin' with dreams. Connectin' people's dreamspaces, then manifestin' some element of the shared dream for the participants after. It happened once before with Jax while he was in prison." He chews at his lower lip for a moment, thinking. "What d'you want t'know first? Feel like there's a lot t'tell an' even /more/ I don't actually know." Jax's fingers brush slowly across the hematite -- /carefully/ over the brittle stone before he returns it to the vase. He's already washed up and dressed for work himself, too, colourful in flame-hued skirt over velvety-black leggings, bright-coloured socks, mismatched armwarmers, All My Heroes Have FBI Files t-shirt, black fishnet shirt layered over tight silver long-sleeved one. He sits himself down on the edge of the bed once Lucien returns to it, folding one leg up beneath himself and frowning, slightly. "Was a good dream, though? For you, Luci?" Lucien turns his ring slowly around his finger, eyes watching the flowers in the others' hands. "It ended." That's all he says, at first. His eyes close. His fingers curl more tightly into a fist. Slowly, his green eyes turn up towards Micah. "You did that." It sounds blank -- rather hollow. "Came into my dreams. Brought -- all this." Flat, really, now. "I thought you were human." "I think so," Micah answers slowly, meeting Lucien's gaze though his cheeks colour faintly as he does. "I mean, it's happened /twice/. I got no better explanation than it bein' some kinda...genetically enhanced special ability thing. They say it comes on with stress sometimes. Was pretty /stressed/ when they took Jax away." He glances down at his hands before looking back up to those intensely green eyes. "I thought so, too. This has all been...really surprisin' t'me. I ain't...controllin' it. Whatever it is. S'just kinda /happenin'/." Jax's lips press together at Lucien's answer. His hand seeks out the other man's, fingers curling around Lucien's to squeeze slowly. "Ain't like he was trying to -- to /invade/ it just. Might be that folks he dreams about --" He shakes his head, lifting Lucien's hand to his lips to press a light kiss there. "We don't know yet. This all been real new." Lucien closes his eyes again, when Jax's hand takes his. He squeezes the other man's hand tight. For a time there's no feeling that comes from him but a flat numb emptiness, and the warmth of skin on skin. "No -- you have to." He squeezes Jackson's hand harder. "You need to know." When he opens his eyes again, looks back at Micah, there's a tension pulling their corners tight. A strained edge to his voice. "You need to do it again. You need bring him /back/." Micah nods silent agreement with Jax's words, as well. "Honey, I can try. Next time I'm asleep, I can.../want/ to really hard? But I don't know what else t'/do/. This has all been happenin' /to/ me. I ain't been directin' it. Don't know how." His teeth dig into his lower lip hard before he manages to ask the next question. "Did y'feel like...it was really Matt? I mean...not just a dream /of/ Matt. But...actually him?" "We're gonna try t'have folks look into it," Jackson tells Lucien. "When Joshua's free, see if he can't poke around -- actually we was hopin' maybe if you had some time," he admits with a blush, "y'might also be able t'do summat t'see if. See what was even goin' /on/ in his brain sometime with this. I don't know." He gives Lucien's knuckles another kiss. His second hand joins the first, cupping Lucien's hand in both his when Micah asks that question. Lucien's eyes just narrow, sharply. There's an abrupt wash of something hard and /cold/ that shivers out from his touch to Jackson. "Matt is /dead/, Micah. What the fuck is wrong with you. I dream --" He presses his lips together, thin. "Matt is dead." At that tone and look, Micah shrinks in a little, actually takes a step back. "Okay. Okay, I'm so--I apologise. It just. He felt. Really real. T'me. So I just wanted t'check. In case." His hand balls into a tight fist, circling over his heart. "Is there...anythin' else y'want t'know about? I'll...tell y'whatever I can." Jax's breath shivers inward at that feeling, though he doesn't let go. "This happened when I was in prison." His head bows, voice quiet on this explanation. "Jus' a -- real -- real vivid dream like y'all had, too, an'. Connected me an' Micah also an' -- I don't know. I was a million miles away an' behind bars an' --" But he stops here, head turning aside. "How are you feeling?" he asks instead, softly. Lucien just shakes his head, jaw clenching. "Why would I ever want to /wake/ from those dreams." His thumb brushes at his ring again. The look he gives Micah is almost annoyed. "You /would/ have a power that /tugs/ on heartstrings, wouldn't you." His eyes close again, and he nestles back down against his pillow. But then his eyes snap back open. He eyes the flowers at his nightstand, reaching back out to pluck out one of the moonstone snowdrops. His fingers curl tight around it. "You know," he muses, distant and almost dreamlike, "he never did have a shaved head like that." Micah nods yet again at Jax's description. "We actually got t'be...t'gether for a little while. Even though he was still in prison. An' after there were /things/ from the dream. He had a Wish Bear an' I had a dragonfly sculpture. Just /appeared/ right outta the dream." The fist that never quite made it back away from his chest circles once more at Lucien's accusation of heartstring-tugging. "I didn't...mean t'be upsettin'. It's just..." Micah sighs heavily, wanting to ask questions and share speculations but /not/ wanting to be even more hurtful. "Honey, d'you mind if I... I have some speculations. An' I don't got no evidence for 'em outside that dream. But it /did/ feel so real t'me an' had some...very interestin' characteristics. But...if it'd be too painful. I can just /not/." The stem of the flower twirls between Lucien's thumb and forefinger. His eyes linger on it, his breathing slow. He taps the cold stone petals against his lips. "I rarely dream. And when I do, it is rarely pleasant. But the times it is --" He turns his hand up, slowly. "I always wish I could simply dream him home again. And you and your Wish Bear fantasies --" The thin twist of his smile is not exactly a pleasant one. "Please. Do share." After a deep breath, Micah proceeds as requested. "People feel dif'rent. In the dreams. When they're /there/ with me as opposed t'just...bein' dreams. Jax said the same thing with me bein' in his dream an'... I don't know. Was it like that...for you with me bein' there?" His hand reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair...so much for the recent combing. "He felt like he was /there/. An'...he looked so dif'rent. Not like I knew 'im. Not like I'd /wish/ 'im t'look. Just...dif'rent. Healthier, but not completely /better/, y'know? With his hair shaved like that. An' the...scars he never had. Reminded me of...folks comin' out of the labs." He flinches just a little as he says this last part, but presses forward. "An' no one ever did see 'im...after they said he was dead. No one did see. I think he might...be alive.” Jackson brushes his thumb against the back of Lucien's knuckles slowly, drawing slow deep breaths himself as Micah speaks. Studying -- the wall. Carefully. Very /fixedly/, at mention of the lab. "Not -- entirely sure the best way to check," he admits, softly. "Hive was sorta the best -- person we had on that an' he ain't in no shape for it just -- at the moment." "Alive -- all this while? You mean to say you believe that all this while he has --" Lucien doesn't actually finish this thought. He removes his hand from Jackson's, very delicately replacing the flower in the vase. He rolls onto his back, hands slowly running into his hair to press palms lightly against his eyes. Oddly mildly: "Huh." The comment about Hive puts an odd tension in his frame, his breath huffing out quickly. "No," he says, /sharp/ but sharply -- amused? "He is in no shape for it." Micah's teeth meet with his lip again as he nods to Lucien. "I think...I mean, maybe. It's possible." He winces a little at the similar comments (although very different /tones/) regarding Hive from the others. “We got t'be able t'come up with /somethin'/. Some way...t'try an' figure out where he is. If...he is.” His head shakes slowly. “I'll think about 'im. Before I go t'sleep. Every night. Maybe. Maybe it'll connect again. An' I can ask 'im what he knows. If I'd only /put/ alla this together at the time I coulda done it /then/, but.” Clearly, he didn't. There's a deeper look of concern in Jax's expression at Lucien's tone regarding Hive, and he fidgets uncomfortably. He shakes his head sharply, looking down at his hands. "When you're asleep will you remember?" He wrinkles his nose uncertainly. "When I'm asleep my brain's all over the -- okay when I'm /awake/ m'brain's all over the place," he admits sheepishly. "An' I mean, guys, we still ain't even /sure/ what's -- actually for-real goin' on so jus --" he draws in a slow breath. "But if it is true. An' y'can talk t'him an' figure it out. I mean. We'll -- jus' let him know we'll -- be figurin' this out soon as we can. An' sendin' folk for him." "There are herbs --" Lucien speaks slowly, almost reticent. "And meditations that can assist with lucid dreaming. But do you really think that there is a chance that he is truly -- no." Lucien's voice is still mild. "He is dead, that can't. He has been dead. You /really/ think there is a chance he might be in --" His palms stay pressed to his eyes. "Since the solstice. Since the summer solstice. One solstice to the /next/ and all the while he would have been in." He falls quiet. "Please -- excuse me a minute." Still quiet-calm, he drops his hands back to the bed, swinging his legs down as he pushes himself up to slip off to the bathroom and shut the door. From behind the door there are sounds of retching. “I'll figure it out. Whatever...methods you have. An' y'said there might be people who can help with just general ability control, too. I'll figure it out. Ain't got any better ideas.” Micah takes that step he'd backed away in the direction of the bed again as Lucien's upset grows, but then he's excusing himself and... Micah just sits on the edge of the bed, propping his forehead in his hands. “I shouldn't've said anythin'. Should've just...kept lookin' into it m'self. Shouldn't've said anythin' when I can't even...confirm it. It's just. I don't know. I thought. I'd want t'know.” Jackson exhales, slow and heavy. He looks towards the bathroom door like he wants to follow but -- doesn't, clearly. Just sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand against Micah's back and threading his other through his hair. "Micah, this is -- /rough/, s'gonna be rough if he's there but. If he's /there/ it's better knowin' than not-knowin' ain't it? I mean, -- gosh if he's. If he's there an' we jus' -- /didn't/ even think about that option that's even more --" Jax shudders. "But I can't even imagine how hard it is /to/ think about." His eye skips towards the bathroom, though the sickened pallor on his face suggests he /is/ kind of Thinking About It. The sounds in the bathroom are -- slowing. Not quiiite done just yet. Maybe almost. Alllmost. "I'd wanna know. If it were true. Not if my idiot friend got a stupid idea in his head an'... Sorry." This last comes in Vietnamese, Micah's head lifted long enough to look at Jax while he says it. "I think. I got caught up in the promise of it. An' what t'do about it. An' maybe...didn't think long enough about all the implications. But I am /so/ gonna be the fastest ability-learner dream-workyperson /ever/. Provided. I actually. Am at /all/." Micah thunks his head back into his hands. "Maybe...I should call off my mornin' appointments. T'stay here longer. An' go into the school with you t'talk t'somebody immediately? I feel like waitin' at this point's just /cruel/." "I was thinkin' /I/ was gonna call off my mornin' classes an' wait with him till he was feelin' better," Jackson admits softly. "But we can go down straightaway t'the school after. Talk t'the Professor. See if he's got any suggestions right off. Help right off. An' help workin' out a /plan/ t'move ahead on -- on the Matt front, too. /An'/ while we're here with Luci too anyway even before goin' out t'the school we can maybe see if Joshua's around --" Jax's teeth scrape over his lip, and he bonks his head down against Micah's shoulder. "Cuz s'gonna be rough makin' him wait, Micah. An' if you are right? If you are right, Micah, we done left Matt for more'n half a year in --" He swallows, hard, and looks towards the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. A sickly greenish light shimmers around him, and fades. The sounds finally do stop, through this exchange out in the bedroom. The toilet flushes. There are other noises. Water running. The scrubbing of toothbrush. More running water. Eventually Lucien emerges, quiet, subdued. He slips back into the bed, lying down on his back with hands lacing together on his stomach, face very pale. "Would you," his voice is a little bit hoarse, "like some tea." "Honey, can /we/ make /you/ some tea? Maybe somethin' ginger? Y'should just...sit." Micah stands just long enough to move to the other side of the bed, sitting next to Lucien where he can address him softly. "For a bit. An' we'll sit with you. Meanwhile, we're workin' this out. I'm gonna go t'Jax's school t'day an' figure out everythin' they can tell me 'bout...how t'work this thing. An' I'll do every meditation an' herb thing y'know of. An'...anythin' else we can think of. Maybe...I dunno, if I eat one of the chocolate-flowers at home. It'll connect better or somethin'. Somethin's gotta work. An' we'll get t'the bottom of this." He reaches out to rest his hand on Lucien's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "If he's out there t'be found, we'll find 'im an' bring 'im home. Somehow." "S'kinda what we do." That's all Jackson says, though. His fingers trace down against Lucien's back, and when Lucien lies down he slides up onto the bed, pulling one leg up and nestling closer to the other man, his fingers trailing through Lucien's hair. He rubs, slow and gentle, at Lucien's scalp, fingertips rubbing inward in gentle massage. Lucien's eyes squeeze shut. His breathing grows shakier, and he nods in acceptance of the offer of tea. He slides in closer when Jax moves onto the bed, resting his head in the artist's lap. His cheek tucks against Jax's thigh, and his shoulder relaxes under Micah's squeeze. He exhales slowly, nestling into these points of contact the others offer, though they make his breathing no more steady. "Somehow."