batmanschmatman | 130 [voice/spam]

Entry tags:

130 [voice/spam]

[This whole post is backdated to after Slade's arrival post and this fight.]

Just a note for anyone who's missed this memo: people have contacted the Admiral about what happens to people who disappear before. He's said he doesn't control when they vanish any more than we do. I know we don't really have reason to trust his word on stuff like this, but I figured it's something worth hearing.

There have been plenty of tough cases who have graduated and a lot of crappy wardens who have overstayed their welcome, and the Admiral didn't get rid of them. It'd save a lot of time and energy if people could keep that in mind next time anyone starts making accusations that someone got kicked off because the Admiral gave up on them, or thinks they've been doing a lousy job.

[Filtered to the DC Wardens]

Slade's here. He was here before until about a year ago, and he was actually making progress by the time he got booted off the ship. [Sort of. He thinks. Maybe.

It's complicated.]

Try not to piss him off if you don't have to.

[Spam for Dean, after the fight]

[Dick wasn't overly pleased with how this had gone down. Bruce acting like a jackass wasn't anything new or unexpected, in so many ways, and he was an inmate. This sort of behavior was to be expected.

But Dean and Faith were wardens, and it always, always bothered Dick when confrontations between wardens turned into what was basically a playground brawl. They were supposed to be the role models here, and he got that both of them were upset, but calling names and intentionally looking to piss the other off was ridiculous. He might side more with Dean because he was his friend, and he didn't particularly like Faith, but they were both definitely in the wrong here.

He turned to Dean after the other two had left, expression and voice still level and serious rather than angry, and gestured for the other man to show him his injured arm.]

Let me see.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Dean is still plenty pissed off; at least that's the label he gives the ball of emotions currently burning a hole through his gut, though many of them are far older than the ten minutes or so he's been bickering with Faith. He's not remotely sorry, of course, and he probably never will be, but he doesn't really feel like fighting anymore.

At least, not Dick.

That doesn't mean he doesn't have to squash his kneejerk reaction to block the injury from sight and examination, because he does; it's an instinct that's saved him more than once, at least, though one he also caught a bunch of crap for from Sam, and others. He's currently glaring down at it, supporting his forearm with his good hand, gingerly twitching each of his fingers to make sure they still work. He's well aware what's wrong, and he's not happy about it, but it's a welcome kind of pain. One he knows what to do with.

Dean glances over at Dick, expression and eyes both dark and serious, and grudgingly relents, stating flatly,] It's broken.

[Dick's not looking to lecture or tell him he's disappointed in him. He's not Dean's parent, and he knows how awful this is, to lose someone you cared about and probably won't ever see again, but with the added bonus of knowing if they do come back, they might not remember you or be entirely different from the person you used to know.

So he looks at his friend's arm carefully, putting a hand at the elbow and avoiding touching the wrist itself. Dean's right, it's definitely broken, and they should probably be heading to the infirmary sooner rather than later. Dick's pretty confident in his ability to take care of serious injuries, but something like this is still something he'd rather have a doctor look at in case it required more care than just a wrap and a brace.]

Bruce?

[Dean isn't even here right now; he lets Dick do whatever he wants with the hand, gaze sliding away, accustomed to this. It's beginning to hurt exponentially now, and any other time he would be bitching to high heaven about it, but not right now. He's not opposed to going to the infirmary, he just hasn't gotten to it yet.

The one-word question draws Dean's attention back to front and center, though, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he retracts his hand to tuck it carefully against his stomach again.]

Maybe. I dunno. Not like it matters.

[He's still angry, but not about this.]

[It matters, but Dick doesn't want to push it right now. He doesn't really want to push anything right now, and he just wants to put all of this behind them.

So he lets go, but stays close, not entirely sure he wants to wander too far in case Dean decides he wants to start getting acquainted with the floor.]

Come on, let's get Banner or someone to take a look at that. You okay to walk?

[Dean snorts.]

It's a broken wrist, not a sucking chest wound. [Maybe a bit on the sharp side, but mostly because he's not paying attention to himself. But he doesn't argue about going, just being patronized: the hunter glances around for the door, starts towards it.

But not before glancing across at Dick and, this time, he does take on an intentionally combative tone.] I'm not sorry.

[It's legitimate, okay, shock can make you do weird ass things, and falling flat on your face isn't going to help your wrist at all.

Dick continues to not really react to the more aggressive tone, expression and voice remaining impassive. He knows Dean's not sorry, and he's not going to ask him for an apology. Again, he's not Dean's parent.] I know.

[Oh, normally, Dean is well aware of it being a legitimate concern; his Winchester stubborn streak comes out when his temper is up, though.

Or when he's hurting in other ways that can't be splinted and dosed with narcotics.

He hesitates a moment, but there's nothing about Dick for Dean to latch onto and turn back on him; the hunter isn't the hothead of the family, isn't the one who can argue about anything and everything just for the sake of arguing. He nods, mutters,] Just saying, got an earful and a half last time, I don't... [Dean shakes his head, turns like he's thinking about moving for the door again, but doesn't quite make it.

He breathes out.]

...Thanks.

[Dick just shrugs and even manages a small smile.]

I'm not gonna lecture you, Dean. And you're welcome. [Dean's been there for him through plenty of shitty situations, it's the least he can do to return the favor every once and a while.

So he's closing the distance between them and gently slapping him on his good shoulder.]

Come on, you need a cast and some painkillers.

[The contact is steadying, somehow, like it always is whether or not Dean notices; mostly he doesn't. He reaches up with his good hand to rub at his eyes for just a moment, until the weight of his bad hand supporting itself becomes too much and he has to latch on again, tries to shake it off. Starts the way Dick directs him and just keeps putting one foot in front of the other, like always.

Normally he'd have a quip, something smart and amusing to say about Dick lecturing him, a probably lewd joke about what he's going to do with a cast, the things he'll have to learn to do left handed until this heals. It's just not in him right now, though; he'd been trying so hard to be okay with this. This isn't even the height of the stupidity he's capable of when he's not okay and he knows that, but now he's just tired again, if he can't fight he wants to drink, but he can't do either.

Halfway across the deck, carefully watching his feet and not the view in any capacity around them, he comes out with:] She says hi. Said hi. I think she meant to come back and say goodbye, but...

It was just all too much. I think.

[Dick follows him in silence, trying to think about something else. He's not exactly thrilled about recent developments - Buffy was his friend, too, and he'd miss her, and he was frustrated about the fight and Bruce's involvement and Faith's volatile attitude - but it wasn't the worst stuff he'd ever been through, either, so it was hard to feel really hurt and angry and upset about it.

He'd wasted a lot of energy with that sort of thing lately, and he wasn't exactly eager to start the cycle again.

He looks over at Dean when he talks and listens to him without interrupting, finally shrugging a little.]

I don't know. Maybe she was planning on coming back for longer, but something came up back home. Stuff happens. Maybe she'll be back, and maybe she won't. It's not like it's anyone's fault.

No, it's not.

[Dean keeps telling himself this; it's not like she's dead. It's not like he doesn't know perfectly well that she's fine. It's not like she can never come back. Of course, as far down the philosophical trail as he gets is "What is death if not moving into another world where no one who loves you can reach you?" and then he comes straight back because that's not him. That's not who he is.

This isn't, as Dick well knows, the worst thing Dean has been through either. But with everything else, with the little voice that lives in the back of his head and was telling him the entire time that this is exactly what would happen because he always screws it up and no one stays, it's taking him a minute to bounce back. He shakes his head.]

When I left, I didn't go home. I went to her world to check on her, and she caught me at it. She didn't say, then, that she wasn't coming back. But I knew anyway. Hoped I was wrong, but...

[He pauses at the hatch, eyes the ladder, decides he's not up to being that stubborn without something better on this wrist than his gumption and determination; heads for the elevator instead.]

Anyway. Wow. Guess I have to make up some ground on the emo front without Sammy here.

[Well. So much for that argument.

But if Dick was really being honest with himself? He couldn't blame Buffy in the slightest. If he went home, even for a little while, he wasn't sure he'd ever willingly come back. He was homesick, and he missed his friends and family and his job, and as much as he liked some of the people he'd met here - and he was honestly pretty sure he was in love with Sara and had been for a while - he couldn't say for sure if he'd be able to come back on board.

Still.]

It's okay to be upset about it, Dean.

[Dean hadn't bothered fighting it, because sometimes he's well aware of his hypocrisy; he's also well aware that when all of this is said and done, he has every intention of going straight home. Do not pass go, do not collect anything, just go the fuck home and get his fucking brother.

After is another story, but he knows that's priority number one, and he knows Buffy knew it too. It's his own fault.

Dick says that, though, and Dean huffs a short, harsh laugh. He doesn't actually wave the wrist around because it actually is really starting to fucking hurt, but he does tilt his head down at where he's holding it against his body.]

It's really not. Especially around here.

It is so long as you don't let assholes like Faith get to you. [Faith was a bitch and had always been a bitch as far as Dick was concerned. Just because she was fucking terrible at dealing with grief didn't mean you needed to let her mess with you, too.

But lingering on the issue right now wasn't going to get much accomplished, so he nudged his good shoulder.]

Come on. Infirmary. If you pass out on me, I'm never gonna let you live it down.

Please, that bitch couldn't get to a Crazy Anonymous meeting with an all access pass, an escort, and a rope tied around her neck. [Dean rolls his eyes theatrically at the claim; it's the dirty little secret he suspects Dick is well aware of that's most embarrassing about that, really. Faith hadn't gotten to Dean at all - he'd wanted it to happen. He'd have taken a much flimsier excuse to pick a fight and maybe lose a fight, except she gave him a damn good one he was only too happy to rise up to meet.

Anything to get his mind off how much he misses Buffy already, has for a while.

He lets himself be herded, about to roll his eyes again when he decides that's probably a bad idea and he should just watch where he's going, maybe.]

I'm not gonna pass out - takes at least two more days of being shot at and pounded into pavement for that, and that's what I got you for anyway.

[Translation: thanks, bro.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

130 [voice/spam]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject