#freq14112

[ciircumserpent]

💭

Send 💭 for something my muse wants to say to yours, but won’t.

I can't tell you how much I hate this -- you carting me around to doctors, fussing over me... you stay up all night, and I hear you walking around; I know you're not sleeping. It's not your job to figure out what's wrong with me. You shouldn't be figuring out if we can get a dialysis machine on the Nomad. You shouldn't be researching loss of tendon elasticity. It's not who you are. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted to be a burden. I was supposed to make your dreams come true, and now I'm just dragging you down with me. I don't want you to watch this. I don't want you to watch me fall apart. I'm going to get old. I won't be able to keep up with what Philanthropy needs. I'll be a gun that can't fire, and no good to you. All while you're worrying yourself sick over me. Will you still think I'm a superhero? Will you still think I'm hot? When I've totally collapsed, and I'm stuck in a chair hooked up to oxygen having my kidneys pumped and being fed through a tube, will that overshadow everything else you and I have been through? I don't want you to remember me this way. I don't want you to see me like this. I want to live forever in your mind as the Snake you helped me become. I've never been a hero, but just for a second, with you, I thought maybe I could be. Please don't look at me like that. Don't pity me. It's killing me, Hal.

[n313s]

@freq141-12

Her hands hover over the barrel, twitching lightly. This isn't her slide, and those aren't her sights. Who the Hell has been at her equipment? She grabs the gun and marches over to the support table, jaw set. "Hey. Nerd. What the Hell is this."

[zimwy]

' hey --- hey. '

a weapon decommissioned remains a weapon, no matter it's use; inter it in a mantle of glass and pretend it is for historical preservation, the acknowledgement of the atrocities of man--none of that would wipe bucky's pain away.

bucky, bucky. he's still getting used to that. him, and not it. a person.

he's sure doctor emmerich means well, but the prodding prompts a lightning-fast apprehension of hal's spindly arm, natal skin over his sleeve. his grip is shockingly soft, like the mouth of a retriever, bred to bring the hunt back intact. hal won't even come away with a bruise.

' don't treat me like a science project, doc. you can.. play with my arm.. just.. look at me a little less like i'm a bug under a magnifying glass. agreed? '

@freq141-12

[ciircumserpent]

"You can talk to me, you know. Whatever you have to say, I'm not gonna judge you or do anything. I just want to listen."

"That's not--" He stopped himself, breathing hard through his nose. Cast in the greenish light of the television, he looked only half-real. Their apartment was trapped in perpetual night, with the windows sealed and double-covered to ensure absolute privacy. They went out, of course, though rarely together. Someone had to stay back, make sure they weren't about to be jumped by the enemy -- or the government. Funny. He'd almost grown accustomed to not worrying about that, with Philanthropy being above board and all. His fault, that they had to live like this now. Foxes in a hole. He could put up with it, but Otacon deserved better.

That was what weighed on him. He could stand having his name dragged through the mud. It had happened before, and he'd survived. His reputation didn't really matter. It had been... nice, to be legitimate again, but he had never allowed himself to think that he could become the hero that Otacon imagined. ( Let down, just like Meryl. Rookies always got their hopes up. ) It was that he'd dragged Hal down with him. Philanthropy was his dream, and Snake had ruined it. Fucking up a mission was nothing new; he made do and moved forwards. Fucking up someone's cause, a cause that he agreed with and had been asked to help with? No. It didn't sit well.

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on your stuff."

[ciircumserpent]

@freq141-12

He never really knows what to do with down time. There are no more dogs, no races to prepare for, and while exercise is both necessary and enjoyable, he can't work out for sixteen hours a day. Having Otacon around has alleviated the boredom. It's... nice, just sitting with somebody else. He's happy to let Hal talk through his latest project, and when he's tired of following along, he just tunes it all out until it becomes white noise. It's meditative, in a way.

That said, there's always the chance of being caught out. Like now. The second time Otacon's voice goes up, Snake knows he's been asked a question. He pulls himself back to the present, turning to his partner. "--Otacon," he says, bluntly but not unkindly, "I wasn't listening to a word of that."

[n313s]

don't look at me like that. you made this choice.

"I didn't think you'd say yes. You were supposed to thank me and make an excuse not to, and we'd both walk away feeling good about ourselves." She stares at the pile of tapes in front of them and gingerly picks up the topmost one. Phoenix 2772. Dangaio. The Venus Wars. "Are all of these about robots?"

[n313s]

i'm not messing around. i'm doing important stuff.

"Oh no. The whole world's gonna end if you don't churn out a hundred more lines of nerd shit for the powers that be. You can never come back to it later. There's no way you could abandon it for me. I'll just... walk away... hey, maybe you and the computer can go on a date. Maybe you can program it a better ass than mine and simulate slapping it. And give it huge stupid fake honkers."

[n313s]

you really thought i wouldn't notice?

She stares at him for a long time, and for a moment, the look in her eyes is positively venomous. There's a not-small part of her that wants to lash out, to throw Hal from the room. She could do it; she's strong enough, and she doesn't want to confront this. So far as Snake is concerned, it's under control, and therefore it shouldn't be questioned. Moreover, she outranks him. He has no right. No right. She should carve out his eyes for looking at her like that, to teach him to keep his judgment and pity to himself.

A one-eyed spectre hovers in the corner of her vision, souring her anger into a combination of fear and guilt that churns her stomach. The whiskey she'd been drinking steadily throughout the day nearly comes back up. You really are a monster. If only none of them had ever met you.

"Leave it alone, Hal," she demands hoarsely, "okay? It's none of your business. Unless it gets in the way of my work, it doesn't matter. Just-- drop it."