Who will forgive whom? - Tag ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
graylikeme
Jan. 7th, 2010 10:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
open_flameWhat would happen if Liz's yearly distraction mission on the anniversary of the day she killed her family was to try to recruit a watchmaker from Queens to the BPRD?
Featuring the illustrious and amazinggraylikeme in the role of Gabriel Gray.
I don’t need to check the calendar. I know what day it is. The worst day of the year. Everyone at the Bureau has been walking on eggshells like they do every year. Don’t mention it. Don’t upset her. Give her an easy mission to make her feel useful and better about herself.
Right.
I grab the file off my bed and read though it slowly. Queens….great. Still, it beats the hell out of sitting around here all day with my thoughts. I don’t want that, even though it’s what they don’t want as well. For once, the powers that be of the BPRD and I agree on something. If I don’t get out of this place and get my mind off what I did in Kansas, I will…do something I’ll regret. Or maybe...I wouldn’t regret it. Been thinking about it enough lately, but I never have the guts to even touch that big gun in the bottom of my dresser. It took a lot of cash and time to find a shop to sell me one without a background check. All that time and energy, and I can’t even work up the courage to pick it up, put it to my head and pull the trigger.
The plane ride is quick. At first I entertain the idea of it just dropping out of the sky, like planes do sometimes. That would make it easy. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to end my life. Of course, I don’t want to take the pilot with me, and I can hear Manning bitching in my head about how much it would cost to replace the plane. It’s the little one, not the big jet. I could have driven, but…I guess Manning could spare the puddle jumper before one of the cars. They never want to leave me ALL alone today. Guess they’re not so stupid after all. At least the pilot won’t be following me to Queens. Sad eyes work pretty well to get what you want sometimes.
I distract myself from the thoughts of the day my family died by reading the file over. Gabriel Gray, a watchmaker. He’s been talking to that Chandra Suresh. They say Suresh is a complete wack-job. Lovely. He probably another one of those that thinks we’re to be studied, researched. Like we’re some sort of wonderful evolution that means everything’s going to be OK. Sparkles and rainbows and sunshine and gifts from God and all that bullshit.
It’s not a gift. It’s a curse. We’re not special. We’re…freaks.
Still, this Gabriel has something new. Something the Bureau hasn’t seen before, and Manning wants him. Or wants his power on the payroll, more accurately. Intuitive aptitude. He can see how anything works. Would be a nice skill to have around the Bureau. Maybe he can fix that damn drippy shower finally.
I take a cab to the shop in Queens. Gray & Sons. It looks like an ordinary watch shop. But I know better than most that things are not always what they seem. I step out of the cab, the bits of the watch we had Red smash in an envelope. Like anyone could actually fix this, but we need a cover. Something to get him talking about what he could do and hopefully convince him to come with me back to BPRD. We could use some new blood that doesn’t get killed or quit in less than a month.
I put on that great fake smile I’ve perfected and push the door to the shop open. “Hello?” It looks spotless, like my room. A place for everything and everything in its place. The gently ticking of the array of clocks on the wall is almost soothing, like a meditation or a song. Maybe I should get a clock.
“Mr. Gray?” I move a little farther back in the shop. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe be went out for lunch or something? “Come out come out where ever you are.”
I throw caution to the wind and push back to the rear of the shop. Hopefully he won’t mind that I…
FUCK! My hand is up with a small fireball in an instant, a flick of my wrist spinning it towards the rope tied around the mans neck. He hits the ground with loud thud as I drop the envelope and rush over to him, grabbing his head to make him look at me as he gasps from air. The rope is still circling his neck, those eyes filled with an all to familiar look of pain and regret. We’re both pulling at it, trying to get his airflow back to him. A rope? Never thought of trying it that way. I wonder if it hurts less than a bullet. If the rope was a little longer your neck would probably just snap before you even had time to suffocate..
Do your job, Lizzie!
“ Are you alright?” I try not to sound panicked myself. This is NOT what this was supposed to be. Who the FUCK sends a suicidal girl to go talk to a suicidal man and offer him a fucking job? Fucking Manning! He could maybe have them do a tiny bit more research. We know the guy likes tea, but we didn’t know he wanted to off himself?
He’s gasping for air, looking at me like I’m some kind of devil…or angel. “Hey, come on. Say something.” What’s he thinking? God I wish Abe was here.
His eyes gloss over with wetness, his face twisted up in pain as he leans in closer to me. I don’t know what to do or say or even think. Does he want…a hug? Would a hug even help? Hugs are supposed to help right?
“Forgive me.” He wheezes as I pull him close to my chest, without really meaning to.
Forgive him? For what?
Featuring the illustrious and amazing
graylikeme in the role of Gabriel Gray.I don’t need to check the calendar. I know what day it is. The worst day of the year. Everyone at the Bureau has been walking on eggshells like they do every year. Don’t mention it. Don’t upset her. Give her an easy mission to make her feel useful and better about herself.
Right.
I grab the file off my bed and read though it slowly. Queens….great. Still, it beats the hell out of sitting around here all day with my thoughts. I don’t want that, even though it’s what they don’t want as well. For once, the powers that be of the BPRD and I agree on something. If I don’t get out of this place and get my mind off what I did in Kansas, I will…do something I’ll regret. Or maybe...I wouldn’t regret it. Been thinking about it enough lately, but I never have the guts to even touch that big gun in the bottom of my dresser. It took a lot of cash and time to find a shop to sell me one without a background check. All that time and energy, and I can’t even work up the courage to pick it up, put it to my head and pull the trigger.
The plane ride is quick. At first I entertain the idea of it just dropping out of the sky, like planes do sometimes. That would make it easy. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to end my life. Of course, I don’t want to take the pilot with me, and I can hear Manning bitching in my head about how much it would cost to replace the plane. It’s the little one, not the big jet. I could have driven, but…I guess Manning could spare the puddle jumper before one of the cars. They never want to leave me ALL alone today. Guess they’re not so stupid after all. At least the pilot won’t be following me to Queens. Sad eyes work pretty well to get what you want sometimes.
I distract myself from the thoughts of the day my family died by reading the file over. Gabriel Gray, a watchmaker. He’s been talking to that Chandra Suresh. They say Suresh is a complete wack-job. Lovely. He probably another one of those that thinks we’re to be studied, researched. Like we’re some sort of wonderful evolution that means everything’s going to be OK. Sparkles and rainbows and sunshine and gifts from God and all that bullshit.
It’s not a gift. It’s a curse. We’re not special. We’re…freaks.
Still, this Gabriel has something new. Something the Bureau hasn’t seen before, and Manning wants him. Or wants his power on the payroll, more accurately. Intuitive aptitude. He can see how anything works. Would be a nice skill to have around the Bureau. Maybe he can fix that damn drippy shower finally.
I take a cab to the shop in Queens. Gray & Sons. It looks like an ordinary watch shop. But I know better than most that things are not always what they seem. I step out of the cab, the bits of the watch we had Red smash in an envelope. Like anyone could actually fix this, but we need a cover. Something to get him talking about what he could do and hopefully convince him to come with me back to BPRD. We could use some new blood that doesn’t get killed or quit in less than a month.
I put on that great fake smile I’ve perfected and push the door to the shop open. “Hello?” It looks spotless, like my room. A place for everything and everything in its place. The gently ticking of the array of clocks on the wall is almost soothing, like a meditation or a song. Maybe I should get a clock.
“Mr. Gray?” I move a little farther back in the shop. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe be went out for lunch or something? “Come out come out where ever you are.”
I throw caution to the wind and push back to the rear of the shop. Hopefully he won’t mind that I…
FUCK! My hand is up with a small fireball in an instant, a flick of my wrist spinning it towards the rope tied around the mans neck. He hits the ground with loud thud as I drop the envelope and rush over to him, grabbing his head to make him look at me as he gasps from air. The rope is still circling his neck, those eyes filled with an all to familiar look of pain and regret. We’re both pulling at it, trying to get his airflow back to him. A rope? Never thought of trying it that way. I wonder if it hurts less than a bullet. If the rope was a little longer your neck would probably just snap before you even had time to suffocate..
Do your job, Lizzie!
“ Are you alright?” I try not to sound panicked myself. This is NOT what this was supposed to be. Who the FUCK sends a suicidal girl to go talk to a suicidal man and offer him a fucking job? Fucking Manning! He could maybe have them do a tiny bit more research. We know the guy likes tea, but we didn’t know he wanted to off himself?
He’s gasping for air, looking at me like I’m some kind of devil…or angel. “Hey, come on. Say something.” What’s he thinking? God I wish Abe was here.
His eyes gloss over with wetness, his face twisted up in pain as he leans in closer to me. I don’t know what to do or say or even think. Does he want…a hug? Would a hug even help? Hugs are supposed to help right?
“Forgive me.” He wheezes as I pull him close to my chest, without really meaning to.
Forgive him? For what?
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-13 02:09 am (UTC)"And... things got worse after that, Liz. So much worse. I don't.. I don't want to be special. I don't want any of this, it's horrible, it's..." I hug myself, mostly to stop talking or for comfort or I don't know what. "If I could tear whatever it is that makes me this way out, I'd do it. I really would."
It made me kill someone. It made me get to this point and whatever organization she's a part of... how can it be any good for me?
no subject
Date: 2010-01-13 03:16 pm (UTC)I feel like I shouldn't even mention why I came here in the first place. I feel like it will only overwhelm him and make it worse. 'You're clearly depressed and hating your ability and your life right now. That sucks and all, but as long as I'm here, do you want to come work for a super secret branch of the FBI? The kitchen makes great pancakes.'
Yeah, that had bad idea written all over it.
"What happened?" I reach out and wrap my hand around one of the arms he has holding himself as I sit up on my knees. I'm almost afraid to ask. No, I am afraid to ask. "Maybe I can help you. I'm not a shrink or anything, but I understand what it's like to not like...what you are."
no subject
Date: 2010-01-14 07:33 am (UTC)I look at her, catching how sympathetic she is and how she's thinking that might help to talk about it. How can that help? "So, you don't like being special? You'd want to get rid of it?"
I want to get rid of what I have too, but there's this part of me that tries to tell me that she's unworthy of whatever she has for even suggesting not liking it. I'm trying not to listen to that, I know where that road leads already.
"I mean... have you tried? Is there really nothing you can do at all? Because I don't know how to deal with what I have, it's stronger than I am."
no subject
Date: 2010-01-14 01:15 pm (UTC)"I did try to get rid of it. It almost killed me. But, someone saved me." I sigh and remember how good it felt to be rid of it, even after I got sick, it was still such a relief to have my fire gone. Someday's, I wish Hellboy hadn't found a way to get it back. Days like...today.
I let my hand go out and reach for his again. My hand is still warm. Maybe too warm. "Gabriel, we...I know about your power. It was hard to catch, but we have better resource than one geneticist has. The people I work for have been dealing with this sort of thing a LOT longer than Chandra Suresh has, far fetched as it sounds." I sit up on my knees and look him in the eyes.
"They're calling it 'Intuitive Aptitude.' Basically it means you can understand things better than...anyone really. You don't even have to learn something, you just know." I almost want to show him the file BPRD made up for him, but I know that's creepy. I hate looking at my own file. It makes me feel like a freak.
"But...it's not dangerous or anything. We've never seen anything like it. We don't even fully understand it based on Suresh's research." I smile and squeeze his hand lightly. "If you come with me, they can help you figure it out. You don't have to be alone." I'm fighting back tears. It's the same thing Trevor Broom said to me the day the BPRD took me in. 'You don't have to be alone. There are others like you.' It was small comfort to me at the time. I only hope it's more comfort to Gabriel.
(Bump us, please)