milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

There are points in the rafters where two beams cross. Some of those points intersect with vertical supports; others don't, providing a broader flat surface at the junction.

A laptop is balanced on one. Early 21st century model, sleek and advanced for its time; a knowledgeable eye, given a close look at the specs, might notice that a few components look suspiciously... well, alien. And that a simple laptop probably shouldn't be capable of quite so many things.

River is reading something on it.

She's a huddle inside her long brown coat; her face is pale and tear-splotched, with dark circles under her narrowed eyes, and hot slow tears spill down her cheeks. But she doesn't move, except to scroll down, and she doesn't look away.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They're there.

And then they're there.

"First we see."

Just see with eyes, the room with the womangirlwoman who's holding her legs too tightly to her chest and not looking at the blood on the wall.

See, not be seen.

This comes first.

There are walls.

There are walls in the walls and the floor and the ceiling and the bed and the air and Kitty is holding herself much, much too carefully, and River --

(shhhh, mèimei, shhhh)

knows that posture inside and out. Three years at the Academy -- you make friends. You all break and bebuild and are shattered together, and you see, and you learn.

There's blood on the wall. Blood and shreds of skin.

(when they take away what made you special)

And Kitty's hands are swathed in bandages.

On her rafter, River flinches hard, with an almost inaudible moan.

There's no laughing from the Endless stroking River's hair still.

The Endless stroking Kitty's is giggling.

"ShE bAnGs HeR FiSt AgAiNsT tHe PoStS, ThE liTtLe GiRl WhO'S NoT a GhOsT."

Whispers, "WaNt To PlAy?"

Whispers, "Let go and it stops. For you. Not her."

"Not today." It's tight and short and she's pulling her knees closer except she can feel them this way they're pressing too much and she wants them to not be there but then there's nothing to hold on to.

People hold on. It's what people do.

She has to stand up, and she does, and she can still feel the pressure from where they were touching her chest, still feel the way the shirt's clinging a little.

"No, thank you, not today."

"Never stops." It's almost a moan.

Her fingers twitch and clench in Del's. But they don't let go.

"Never in all the time. That's the point. Full marks."

"WhY wHy WhY?" It's sulky. "LiTtLe NiEcE pErSoN. ThErE aRe GaMeS. We'Ll PlAy ThEm. We WilL. WhIcH WiLl YoU dO? LaY dOwN aNd CuRL Up Or TaKe YoUrSeLf OuT Or DyE tHe FlOoR ReD?"

"Head of the class," she promises and blinks silver eyes.

She's not answering.

She's not answering that, just staring at the wall now, not Del, just the wall.

She doesn't hit it.

Kitty kicks it, hard, after a moment, and wishes it gave, wishes something gave, and knows if she kicked the bed it would.

It's tempting.

"Kitty," River whispers, eyes wide and comprehending and overflowing with tears.

"Jiě jie. She cheats."

"Everyone cheats, baobei."

"YoU'Re GoNnA StUb YoUr ToE," she sings.

"First we see," Del murmurs, "and then we"

(it helps)

"really see."

Kitty breathes in

(too tight too tight oh God my skin's too tight my skin's burning it burns everything rubs raw the ends of pant legs are frayed I want to hit the wall I want to hit the wall I don't want Simon to see me with more broken fingers I wonder if he's coming back I hope he comes back I hate this I hate this I hate this I can feel the thread tickling my ankle he shouldn't come back he doesn't need to see this I won't let them see this it's fine all fine it's going to be fine I want Piotr I want Logan I wish Logan were here if someone has to Logan could do it best claw through the heart fast and easy I don't want to go there my trial's taking too long I'm going to it's okay it'll be okay I want to hit something it's too much the air's too think and it's all walls and the walls don't give I want out and I hate this)

and out.

River breathes in

(too much skin too much fabric weight air gravity too much and

the collar's a weight that blends in and a weight that's agonizingly distinct and

she's fine, she's fine everything's fine no need to worry no need to fret it's just a body and bodies

die

so easily

oh God I wish I could

I wish I could phase I wish I could breathe I wish I could dance I wish I could be free but

but but but

she's choking on air she's bleeding because when she hits it's pain that's a choice (all of this is her choice) and she can feel every molecule every hair every thread all of it like razors and fire and it won't go away she wants out she's trapped and they've made her body betray her until she can't break free) and

(let me out)

she can't hear her own moan of pain and she

(let me out LET ME OUT but all she can feel are walls and locks and walls it's too much it's too much it's too much)

can't feel when she jerks and overbalances and topples blind and boneless from the rafter.

She said let go and it would be over.

But that's a choice too, and River hasn't made it, so Del's hand is tight on hers yet.

And the other arm snakes out, quick and nimble, and wraps around River's torso, catching her and lifting her up again and holding her carefully on the rafter.

I hurt too, she doesn't say, just holds River close and gentle and lets her see and see.

And sees with her and sees with her.

The rafters smell like grass in the summer sun.

The cell smells like sweat and old wine and rotting fruit, and Delirium wraps arms around Kitty (too much too much too tight and too much) and smiles.

Del kisses her (KiSsEs HeR) temple(s).

There's no one but an Endless there.

So Kitty doesn't care if she lets out one sob and then another.

I'm tired. It's too much. It's too much and I can't do this.

River learned a long time ago not to care about the dignity of crying. It's easier that way, when you can't ever stop yourself anyway.

She's crying, and she can feel the itchy horrible trickle of each tear against her skin, feel her shirt shift fractionally (imperceptibly) with each heaving breath, feel arms like sunlight and grass and rOtTeN ShReDeD sIlK around her, she can feel it all and it all hurts because it won't go away.

"Shhhh." It's soft and gentle and to both girls.

"ShHhH."

"Hurts," she manages, and it's a blessing, in a way, to feel the arms around her and to not at the same time.

And she never took well to blessings, and Kitty yanks away after a moment, still crying.

"Not today."

"I'm sorry," River sobs, and flinches not from her voice but from the puff of breath against her drawn-up knees, and cringes again at the way the flinch presses her against Del's arm and her own clothing.

"I'm sorry. Kitty."

"River." Soft and the places where Del's hand touch, after a moment, don't hurt.

(You can StIlL FeEl, but it doesn't HuRt.)

"It's time to let go."

"BuT yOu WiLl," Delirium sings again to Kitty while sobbing herself from across the room.

"Maybe." She's catching her breath and trying to make the tears stop.

"But not today." That's what matters. That. It's not today.

"She can't," River whispers, and doesn't mean herself.

"I know."

Del doesn't pull her hand away, but the fingers do unwrap from River's so it's just palm to palm.

"And this is the last part. Walking away."

River's eyes are wide and blind with tears.

"Other worlds."

She can feel every featherweight of pressure -- of touch, of atmosphere. Her fingers spread; her palm lifts a hairsbreadth, but no more. Still touching, if barely.

"You shared it with her. Now stop." Gentle and calm.

"I want to break the walls."

Her hand lifts. Just enough.

And

(the brush of skin against skin)

it's gone. She's only River again. She feels what she feels.

A moment later, her face is contorted, buried in Del's shoulder, and she's sobbing heartbrokenly.

"So does she."

Soft and quiet and then she has both arms around River carefully, holding her close, and a soft kiss to dark hair.

Del doesn't try to quiet her.