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Stryker Plot - Doug and River - Mid afternoon
River and Doug are possibly about to have a fight when an emotional sledgehammer slams into River.
River was happily ensconced in the bean bag she'd gotten Doug for his computer lab, pouring over a textbook of Jeanne-Marie's she'd, well, "borrowed". But she'd put it back before the other girl realized it was missing, so it didn't really matter, and it would come out of the experience much improved. There were many intricacies about the human mind that the author did not seem to grasp.
She finished correcting the conclusion in the margin - in Spanish, because that was the language Doug was currently translating into - and closed the book, looking up at the back of her boyfriend.
"Being jealous of a magazine is irrational," she told him in Japanese, since that was one of the languages he had yet to translate the latest issue of SHIFT! into. "And yet."
Doug chuckled as he finished typing the sentence he'd been translating. "The magazine is unlikely to acknowledge your jealousy, whether it's rational or not," he teased, then turned and gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, though. Let me just finish up this article and I'll take a break? I've only got about a paragraph left."
"Apologies are meaningless unless action is taken to correct the problem," River replied evenly. A little too evenly. Simon could've told Doug that meant he had better be careful what he said or did next.
"What sort of action are you advocating?" Doug countered, eyebrows rising. After all, he'd just said he'd take a break. He could always do the next language later; it wasn't as if the magazine was coming out the next day.
"I'm gonna bring Jeanne-Marie's book back," River stated, just as evenly, somehow managing to extricate herself from the bean bag with her usual grace, and standing up with the book in her hands. She turned her back on Doug and headed for the door, but she had barely taken a couple of steps when she stopped dead, book dropping to the floor with a dull thud. Panic twisted inside her lungs, flashes through her mind that were hers and that weren't, and she didn't want to be back there, no, please.
Okay, wrong answer. Doug had just opened his mouth to protest when the book fell, and he jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "River, what's wrong?" he asked, forehead furrowing with concern as he came over and rested his hand on her back. "Are you okay?"
River gasped when he touched her, almost tripping on her own feet in her instinctive haste to get away, put her back to a wall, nobody could grab her from behind the wall - nobody but Kitty, nobody but Shinobi Shaw, but they hadn't gotten to them - that she knew of - and she remembered to breathe. "It's happening again," she told Doug, panic as clear in her voice as it was in her eyes. Panic, and a plea.
"What's happening?" Doug asked, clamping down on his own instinct to panic , because it was obvious from River's reaction that something was happening, somewhere. He took a breath and exhaled, then held his hand out - an offer, non-threatening. "Can you tell me?"
River rushed forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him along on her way under the desk. Desks made everything better, even - especially - when you had to fight for your spot among cables and wires. "Maybe Ellie knows," she whispered, to herself, but she hoped that she didn't. She met Doug's gaze and told him, in a small voice, "It isn't safe out there."
Not understanding, Doug nonetheless let himself be tugged along, and crawled under the desk with River. "It's safe here," he assured her, hoping he was telling the truth. "Even better than a pillow fort. Is something happening?" He didn't hear anything - but given that they were in a sub-basement, he wasn't really sure that meant much.
"Safety's just an illusion," River replied. "Pillows can be burned. You forget, and that's when they take you." She was curled up on herself, as small as she could make herself be, smaller target, could they overlook her. Her hand was clutching his hard enough to hurt, and she forced herself to address the question inside and out of him. "Illyana and Nico. She's back, and black, and blue. He's maybe two of those things." Unless it was much worse.
Maybe two of those... Doug took a breath and started sorting that out. Illyana was back, which meant that whatever had happened that had resulted in her being black and blue had happened somewhere else. Nico (damn, had he ever even met Nico? He had a vague mental image of a short dark haired kid from games' club, but he wasn't altogether positive it went with the name) possibly wasn't back, or wasn't bruised. Right.
Wrapping his other hand over their joined ones, he tried to meet her eyes. "No one's going to take you anywhere." That much, he was pretty sure he could guarantee, even if he wasn't 100% sure what was going on. "Does anyone need to take Illyana anywhere safe?" Not that he was going to go, himself, but he had his phone. He could call the infirmary if she needed help.
"Nowhere's safe," River retorted angrily, tears welling up in her eyes. "He's got her. Her knight in blond armor. Here's as safe as it gets. Not." She could feel herself crumbling down and she took a deep breath, trying and failing to focus enough to draw a mandala in her mind. Her free fingers wrapped around her pendant. "Simon will take care of her."
"He will," Doug replied with certainty. "And Link will take care of Zelda, that's what knights are for." Granted, he wasn't sure exactly who she meant, but the analogy was apt anyway. He reached up to finger River's hair back from her face, let his fingers linger both because he hoped the contact would reassure her and because he really wanted to feel as if he were doing something, even if he wasn't, and tilted his head to try and catch her eyes. "She'll be okay."
River held his gaze for a few seconds, her own dark, troubled and teary, then clung to him in a quick move, burrowing into his chest as much as she could. She'd let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him instead, and hold him tight.
Doug wrapped his arms tight around River, and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I've got you," he whispered softly, trying to bury down any lingering questions about what was or wasn't going on with Illyana and Nico and what it might mean overall. Maybe he wasn't a knight, but that much he could promise, at least.
River just closed her eyes and did her best to focus on nothing but him, him and his doubts and his fears and his concern, because they were better than the certainties that were out there. With him, she could pretend. Build a wall between them and the rest of the world, and pretend that they were safe. Little by little, after some long minutes, she relaxed in his arms - as relaxed as she would get, right now.
"They want to burn them, but they're our witches," she tried to explain, again, in a whisper.
"And we're not going to let anyone burn them," Doug assured her. relaxing his hold a little so he could rub her back in slow circles, spiralling inward. "We'll break out the fire extinguishers." After all, that was why Les X-Quis and JVX existed, wasn't it?
"Fires everywhere," River replied, just as quietly. "Spread too thin. Bring out the little ones. Remember, remember..." She was losing it again, she could feel it, and she burrowed closer, willing for nothing but Doug to exist in that moment.
"Shhhh. No fires." Doug tightened his arms around her once more and tilted his head so his cheek rested against her hair. Taking a breath, he exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the way she felt against him, the smell of her shampoo, even the cramp he was getting in his shoulder from the odd position he was sitting in. "This is probably the first time ever I wish I were shorter," he observed, forcing a faint smile.
River's shoulder ached with his, and she breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, and gratitude. "Your feet touch the ground."
"And my head hits the keyboard tray. Which I should really remove," he mused, eyeing it askance seeing as the subject change seemed to be working. "I never use it anyway. Any idea where I left the screwdriver?"
"In Harley's Pocket, I think," River stated. "I'll get it back for you." The school would still be standing. Harley would still be leaping. Everything would be as it was.
"There's no rush." Though he had to wonder just why Harley would have wanted his screwdriver to begin with. For the most part, though, he'd stopped wondering about things like that - he wasn't sure there was actually a why involved. "You okay?" he asked softly instead, and stroked his hand slowly over her back. He was concerned, yes - but not unduly so. It wasn't as if he wasn't more or less sure of the answer, and while it could change at a moment's notice...well, this moment was the one he was thinking of, not those. It still took effort, but he seemed to be getting better at that.
She would never be all correct again, but it wasn't what he meant. "Your shoulder hurts," she answered, which was closer to what he was asking, and she tugged him into a different position, so that he'd be less uncomfortable but she could still curl up against him and forget about the rest of the world, or do her best.
"I spend too much time at the computer and not enough in the gym," he acknowledged. If he adjusted that, flexibility might come a little more naturally. He sighed gratefully and shifted, then urged her back in against him. "Did you want to play frisbee there later?"
"Later doesn't exist," River replied, her tone bone-tired. She wanted Simon, but he was busy, and it was best not to think about that. Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie were already putting out fires, and it was best not to think about that either. Loops, echoes and spirals. "We are now."
No later. It didn't come naturally to someone who spent most of his life making plans and lists - he kept trying, but inevitably he slipped. He gave her an apologetic look, knowing she'd feel the emotion even if she couldn't see his face, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We are."
River was happily ensconced in the bean bag she'd gotten Doug for his computer lab, pouring over a textbook of Jeanne-Marie's she'd, well, "borrowed". But she'd put it back before the other girl realized it was missing, so it didn't really matter, and it would come out of the experience much improved. There were many intricacies about the human mind that the author did not seem to grasp.
She finished correcting the conclusion in the margin - in Spanish, because that was the language Doug was currently translating into - and closed the book, looking up at the back of her boyfriend.
"Being jealous of a magazine is irrational," she told him in Japanese, since that was one of the languages he had yet to translate the latest issue of SHIFT! into. "And yet."
Doug chuckled as he finished typing the sentence he'd been translating. "The magazine is unlikely to acknowledge your jealousy, whether it's rational or not," he teased, then turned and gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, though. Let me just finish up this article and I'll take a break? I've only got about a paragraph left."
"Apologies are meaningless unless action is taken to correct the problem," River replied evenly. A little too evenly. Simon could've told Doug that meant he had better be careful what he said or did next.
"What sort of action are you advocating?" Doug countered, eyebrows rising. After all, he'd just said he'd take a break. He could always do the next language later; it wasn't as if the magazine was coming out the next day.
"I'm gonna bring Jeanne-Marie's book back," River stated, just as evenly, somehow managing to extricate herself from the bean bag with her usual grace, and standing up with the book in her hands. She turned her back on Doug and headed for the door, but she had barely taken a couple of steps when she stopped dead, book dropping to the floor with a dull thud. Panic twisted inside her lungs, flashes through her mind that were hers and that weren't, and she didn't want to be back there, no, please.
Okay, wrong answer. Doug had just opened his mouth to protest when the book fell, and he jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "River, what's wrong?" he asked, forehead furrowing with concern as he came over and rested his hand on her back. "Are you okay?"
River gasped when he touched her, almost tripping on her own feet in her instinctive haste to get away, put her back to a wall, nobody could grab her from behind the wall - nobody but Kitty, nobody but Shinobi Shaw, but they hadn't gotten to them - that she knew of - and she remembered to breathe. "It's happening again," she told Doug, panic as clear in her voice as it was in her eyes. Panic, and a plea.
"What's happening?" Doug asked, clamping down on his own instinct to panic , because it was obvious from River's reaction that something was happening, somewhere. He took a breath and exhaled, then held his hand out - an offer, non-threatening. "Can you tell me?"
River rushed forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him along on her way under the desk. Desks made everything better, even - especially - when you had to fight for your spot among cables and wires. "Maybe Ellie knows," she whispered, to herself, but she hoped that she didn't. She met Doug's gaze and told him, in a small voice, "It isn't safe out there."
Not understanding, Doug nonetheless let himself be tugged along, and crawled under the desk with River. "It's safe here," he assured her, hoping he was telling the truth. "Even better than a pillow fort. Is something happening?" He didn't hear anything - but given that they were in a sub-basement, he wasn't really sure that meant much.
"Safety's just an illusion," River replied. "Pillows can be burned. You forget, and that's when they take you." She was curled up on herself, as small as she could make herself be, smaller target, could they overlook her. Her hand was clutching his hard enough to hurt, and she forced herself to address the question inside and out of him. "Illyana and Nico. She's back, and black, and blue. He's maybe two of those things." Unless it was much worse.
Maybe two of those... Doug took a breath and started sorting that out. Illyana was back, which meant that whatever had happened that had resulted in her being black and blue had happened somewhere else. Nico (damn, had he ever even met Nico? He had a vague mental image of a short dark haired kid from games' club, but he wasn't altogether positive it went with the name) possibly wasn't back, or wasn't bruised. Right.
Wrapping his other hand over their joined ones, he tried to meet her eyes. "No one's going to take you anywhere." That much, he was pretty sure he could guarantee, even if he wasn't 100% sure what was going on. "Does anyone need to take Illyana anywhere safe?" Not that he was going to go, himself, but he had his phone. He could call the infirmary if she needed help.
"Nowhere's safe," River retorted angrily, tears welling up in her eyes. "He's got her. Her knight in blond armor. Here's as safe as it gets. Not." She could feel herself crumbling down and she took a deep breath, trying and failing to focus enough to draw a mandala in her mind. Her free fingers wrapped around her pendant. "Simon will take care of her."
"He will," Doug replied with certainty. "And Link will take care of Zelda, that's what knights are for." Granted, he wasn't sure exactly who she meant, but the analogy was apt anyway. He reached up to finger River's hair back from her face, let his fingers linger both because he hoped the contact would reassure her and because he really wanted to feel as if he were doing something, even if he wasn't, and tilted his head to try and catch her eyes. "She'll be okay."
River held his gaze for a few seconds, her own dark, troubled and teary, then clung to him in a quick move, burrowing into his chest as much as she could. She'd let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him instead, and hold him tight.
Doug wrapped his arms tight around River, and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I've got you," he whispered softly, trying to bury down any lingering questions about what was or wasn't going on with Illyana and Nico and what it might mean overall. Maybe he wasn't a knight, but that much he could promise, at least.
River just closed her eyes and did her best to focus on nothing but him, him and his doubts and his fears and his concern, because they were better than the certainties that were out there. With him, she could pretend. Build a wall between them and the rest of the world, and pretend that they were safe. Little by little, after some long minutes, she relaxed in his arms - as relaxed as she would get, right now.
"They want to burn them, but they're our witches," she tried to explain, again, in a whisper.
"And we're not going to let anyone burn them," Doug assured her. relaxing his hold a little so he could rub her back in slow circles, spiralling inward. "We'll break out the fire extinguishers." After all, that was why Les X-Quis and JVX existed, wasn't it?
"Fires everywhere," River replied, just as quietly. "Spread too thin. Bring out the little ones. Remember, remember..." She was losing it again, she could feel it, and she burrowed closer, willing for nothing but Doug to exist in that moment.
"Shhhh. No fires." Doug tightened his arms around her once more and tilted his head so his cheek rested against her hair. Taking a breath, he exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the way she felt against him, the smell of her shampoo, even the cramp he was getting in his shoulder from the odd position he was sitting in. "This is probably the first time ever I wish I were shorter," he observed, forcing a faint smile.
River's shoulder ached with his, and she breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, and gratitude. "Your feet touch the ground."
"And my head hits the keyboard tray. Which I should really remove," he mused, eyeing it askance seeing as the subject change seemed to be working. "I never use it anyway. Any idea where I left the screwdriver?"
"In Harley's Pocket, I think," River stated. "I'll get it back for you." The school would still be standing. Harley would still be leaping. Everything would be as it was.
"There's no rush." Though he had to wonder just why Harley would have wanted his screwdriver to begin with. For the most part, though, he'd stopped wondering about things like that - he wasn't sure there was actually a why involved. "You okay?" he asked softly instead, and stroked his hand slowly over her back. He was concerned, yes - but not unduly so. It wasn't as if he wasn't more or less sure of the answer, and while it could change at a moment's notice...well, this moment was the one he was thinking of, not those. It still took effort, but he seemed to be getting better at that.
She would never be all correct again, but it wasn't what he meant. "Your shoulder hurts," she answered, which was closer to what he was asking, and she tugged him into a different position, so that he'd be less uncomfortable but she could still curl up against him and forget about the rest of the world, or do her best.
"I spend too much time at the computer and not enough in the gym," he acknowledged. If he adjusted that, flexibility might come a little more naturally. He sighed gratefully and shifted, then urged her back in against him. "Did you want to play frisbee there later?"
"Later doesn't exist," River replied, her tone bone-tired. She wanted Simon, but he was busy, and it was best not to think about that. Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie were already putting out fires, and it was best not to think about that either. Loops, echoes and spirals. "We are now."
No later. It didn't come naturally to someone who spent most of his life making plans and lists - he kept trying, but inevitably he slipped. He gave her an apologetic look, knowing she'd feel the emotion even if she couldn't see his face, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We are."