i_speak_softly | Sixty-Fourth Theory [Action/Voice]

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Sixty-Fourth Theory [Action/Voice]

((First part is backdated to yesterday, November 10.))

[Would it really be so difficult for John's droids to just bring Don home?]

[Apparently, because they instead leave him in a side room of the barracks. On their way out, they drop his journal on the floor, just beyond his reach.]

[He can't feel his legs.]

[He woke up this way on John's table, and while part of his brain tried to assess the situation rationally and offer the mitigating factors that it's just for a week, thank goodness he didn't get this as his death loss, the rest of his brain was screaming too loudly to notice or care.]

[And now he's back in the village, half-paralyzed, still uncertain of his speech, and completely alone.]

[It takes a while, but he pulls himself together, drags himself a few feet across the floor, and painstakingly constructs a filter in the journal.]

Voice to Beast | Unhackable

Help. The barracks. Please...

[He closes the book when he's done. Beast won't get any reply from him through the journals, but will find him prone on the floor of the barracks, just wanting to go home.]

Voice for Everyone, November 11

[By the next day, Don has rediscovered his voice, and wants everyone else to hear it too. Being couchbound, he has nothing better to do than broadcast his every thought over the journal system.]

EVERYONE. Citizens, denizens, residents and inmates of our village of Luceti. Those of you who have just arrived, please find adequate shelter, because this is miserable weather to be out in. You're fortunate, though, to have missed our recent tornado. Also an infestation of ghosts and some messy business involving zombie viruses. Never a dull moment. I advise reading the guide, which can be found in your journal.

Those of you who are already jaded by such events, please entertain yourselves on this dreary day by suggesting a topic of interest: a fascinating subject, an intriguing project, or a hypothetical occurrence that you would find truly surprising. Jokes and stories are also welcome.

[He'll stop there. Finding words is still difficult and tiring, and like exercising any other faculty that hasn't been used in a while, he should take it slowly. Full recovery will come from patient practice, not from exhausting himself all at once.]

((Initial action is locked to Beast. Friends of Don are welcome to handwave hearing of his return and come visit, yesterday afternoon or any time during the week. Today's voice post is open to all.))

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[This is possibly the best answer Robert could have given. Don smiles weakly.]

Let me have those needles.

[Robert smiles back, a little uncertain as he hands the box of needles to Don. It's weird, to see so many needles around his partner, and fills him with strange and uncomfortable emotion.

Almost unconsciously, he fidgets with the sleeve of his lab coat as he watches.]

[Don lifts a needle from the box, and spends some time reading the label. He's already learned that his literacy skills are a little rusty - but since he's mostly interested in the numbers here, it shouldn't be too bad.]

[When he's satisfied he knows what he's injecting himself with, he pulls back the blanket, stretches the skin of his thigh between thumb and forefinger, and jabs the syringe into a vein. It's a somewhat more violent movement than Robert might be expecting, but Don looks unperturbed as he pushes the plunger down to a carefully calculated point.]

[Robert was, of course, watching intently the entire time, and he flinches just a little when that needle punctures Don's skin - both because of the aggression of the motion and because of the associated memories.

Still, he's glad for this. It means he won't have to worry as much about Don having any more permanent damage done to him.]

[When Don pulls back the needle, a little blood leaks out, but he ignores it. He carefully hands the now-uncapped syringe back to Robert, and continues the conversation as though nothing happened.]

The second thing I wanted to say is that I won't be eating much for the next few weeks, and I'm going to be in a bad mood because of it. It has nothing to do with you or anything you did.

[Robert will worry only if that leak doesn't stop itself soon. He takes the syringe gingerly and places it on the side table after recapping it for the interim.]

... A-Alright. [He's learned by now that fussing too much will just be counterproductive. Maybe he can at least make Don's drinks interesting?]

[Don't worry; Turtles clot quickly.]

[That was less of a response than Don was expecting. It throws him off a little.]

Are your plants ready to move into the winter room?

[Hey, Robert can take a hint! After having it repeatedly drilled into his skull, anyway. And if it's something Don's doing to himself there isn't much he can (or wants to) do about it, even if it worries him.]

Yes. I would prefer to do so as soon as possible, particularly for... the seedlings. [The trees are still small and delicate; they won't do so well if they have to deal with a cooler house and short hours of sunlight. He's lucky to have kept them strong so far as it is.]

I left places for them. I'll show you as soon as... as soon as I can walk.

[He really hopes it won't be more than a few days.]

[So does Robert, though he's trying to keep the anxiety off his face. (That's not working very well.)]

I... will be glad to see it. Admittedly, I have been curious since you first began...

[He has to look away, embarrassed for complicated reasons.]

I know. I just... didn't want you to see it yet.

[Oh, Don. Don't be shy.]

Whenever you are... ready. [And able.]

[Before he monopolizes the conversation with his laundry list:]

Is there anything you want to talk about?

[Robert smiles weakly at that.]

I... would h-hardly know where to begin. Perhaps, by addressing your concerns, some of mine would... simultaneously be discussed.

[This is not really the kind of honest response Don was hoping for. He decides to start big and vague.]

Ron-- Robert, I'm... worried about us.

[Being called by his own name in Don's voice. He'd missed that.

But...]

... Worried? In... in what manner? [Didn't he basically prove his love well enough? Or does he have to do something else?]

[It's not you. Not in any reasonable sense, at least.]

[He looks away.]

I'm - not good at relationships.

[Robert doesn't look away. His gaze patiently seeks out Don's.]

Neither am I. I... presumed that this was well-established knowledge.

[Still determinedly not looking.]

I don't think you know how much my brothers did for us.

[At this, Robert's expression grows more melancholy.]

... Perhaps not, but... I am g-grateful for it regardless.

And... whatever they would have done... I will try my best. [He can't stress enough how much he'll try.]

[He rubs the ridge between his eyes. Someday, maybe, they won't have to have conversations like this anymore.]

I can't ask you that.

[To Robert, it's a strictly pragmatic statement.]

Who can you ask?

[With a certain degree of anguish:]

I don't know!

[Robert tries for a calm, reassuring tone, but the anguish in Don's voice has visibly upset him.]

This is why I... am offering to d-do so myself. Or, something. I know I cannot replace them - never could r-replace them - but...

[His shoulders slump just slightly. Is he ever going to truly be enough?]

[Softly, almost guiltily. He knows it isn't fair to ask Robert to do these things, but the fact remains that someone needs to do them.]

You can't do what they did.

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