raisetheearth | Keep Burning Like We're Never Gonna Die [Closed]

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Keep Burning Like We're Never Gonna Die [Closed]

Who: Lazarus, Micah and Nathan
Where: Christchurch Hospital
When: November 24, Tuesday
What: Lazarus is finally leaving the hospital which means that it's finally a good time for visitors, including one very relevant to him he has yet to meet.
Status: Closed

The old adage is that when one falls off the horse, it's imperative for him to get back on as quickly as possible. Falling hard, however, means that a little bit of extra time might well be forgiven, and Lazarus has certainly taken that. After over three weeks in the hospital recovering from a badly burned leg and the acquisition of some looser pants, it's with reluctance but a sense of duty that he packs his things and waits to be discharged. The world might be a more hostile place, but despite his doubts, there are some people out there who still think that he has a place in it, and he's come too far and given too much of himself not to cling to that. Whether or not he's earned what remains of that faith in his ability and worthiness, it's his job now to earn it. That seems fair.

But there are two last visitors before he leaves. Just as well, to help ease him back into the everyday life he's been observing and partaking in from his phone and the Network while others have been disbanded and displaced. One is Nathan, a familiar at at this point indispensable presence. The other is one he's only spoken to over the Network so far, who has yet to see his face but had a bit part in the life of his Other. He doesn't know what will happen; he can only hope that it won't be yet another catastrophe to throw onto the heap.

He strikes a different figure than he usually does as he sits and waits for Nathan and Micah, his close-fitting black clothes exchanged for something looser-fitting and more comfortable as his leg continues to heal. The outfit happens to be the same long-sleeved white t-shirt and pair of baggy blue jeans he got back from his teleporter echo.

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Nathan is admittedly quite nervous about meeting Micah in person for the first time. There is a very deep worry in his mind that when Micah sees his face, he will Echo back Mello's hatred of Near. But he cannot hide forever. It wouldn't be right. Sooner or later, a meeting has to happen. He just . . . hopes it goes well. And as much for Lazarus's sake as his own. Lazarus does not need anything else difficult to deal with right now.

He is waiting outside, dressed in loose clothes and a light jacket; it is late spring here, rather than late fall. The air is warming instead cooling. He watches people come and go, his own presence largely unnoticed due to how often he's visited here in the past few weeks. Odd-looking he may be, but he has become part of the normal scenery by now.

He holds his breath a moment when he catches sight of Micah, who frankly does stick out due to the burn scar on his face. What if this goes bad, what if this goes bad, what if this goes bad . . .

Stop it, he chides himself. Whatever happens, he needs to handle it.

"Micah." His voice is soft as always, but he puts in a little extra volume as necessary. And he briefly waves one small, thin hand to get his attention.

It's time to see what comes from this, for better or worse.

It's disorienting, being literally and figuratively upside down from the world he knows - it's Micah's first time out of the country, his first time meeting other Numbered in person. His nerves are already on edge from being pushed out of his element, doubly so thanks to the acquisition of a new language, courtesy of an Echo triggered earlier by travel via transporter. Japanese, suddenly and without explanation, crammed into his head so it feels overly full to bursting. He was warned it could happen, of course, but it's not the same as either of the two previous Echoes he's received, so he still isn't fully prepared. How do you prepare for what you don't expect?

He doesn't really know what to expect; he's only spoken with Nathan and Lazarus a couple times each, and he only knows them by voice, not what they look like. Part of his brain (the part that still has space to breathe) tells him he must be crazy, agreeing to this on nothing more than the word of two strangers who claim to have known a man they claim he used to be, once.

Micah's used to eyes on him when he walks by, silently noting the scar; he's become acclimatized to gazes lasting just a little too long or directed a little too pointedly at the opposite side of his face. He knows it makes people uncomfortable, and he's fine with that. Comfort in his presence is a luxury most people haven't earned. Someone watching for him doesn't catch his attention as anything out of the ordinary.

In fact, Micah almost walks past Nathan entirely; the voice he recognizes, though, and the wave is enough to signal him to stop. What happens immediately after he draws to a halt in front of Nathan is, again, something of a surprise, even though Micah knows it shouldn't be. He's been warned about this, too - that seeing him might trigger an Echo.

Which is, of course, exactly what happens. Micah scowls through the wave of dizziness that heralds the memory that appears in his mind: a shower of small clacking noises, then an image of a white-haired boy, almost exactly like Nathan, seated on the floor with white jigsaw puzzle pieces scattered around him, tray held over his head. He speaks in a quiet, even tone, and Micah repeats what the boy in the memory says aloud, slowly, carefully:

"If you can't win the game ... if you can't solve the puzzle ... you're just a loser."

Micah's expression remains fixed in an angry frown for a moment after - just a moment - then he shakes his head and it dissolves into something more neutral, something halfway to half of a smile.

"I'll take 'cryptic first impressions' for a thousand, Alex."

It had been an agreement on both sides that they would meet publicly, to help assuage any concerns. No one with any sense would try something untoward in a public place. It's the smarter thing, to meet this way.

The scowl is an alarming reaction to what is clearly an Echo, and Nathan inwardly flinches. It's bad, isn't it? He's been so worried it would be bad. Part of him wants to ask, and another part of him does not. Does he really want to know?

But the decision is taken away from him when Micah speaks. The sensation is familiar enough to him now that he barely reacts visibly, but it happens all the same. He remembers it too, now. Crouched on the floor, dumping out the puzzle, speaking that exact phrase.

And while his reaction might be subtle, it seems that the Echo itself is not. Out of thin air, the puzzle materializes in front of him and he reacts scarcely in time to keep it from dropping to the ground and scattering the pieces everywhere. The puzzle is unassembled, and for now, the pieces sit in a pile on top of the tray. This is . . . unexpected. Nathan had never considered he would get any item Echoes out of a meeting.

He briefly glances about nervously. While people do sometimes make assumptions about him based on his unusual appearance, he is not one who makes it commonly known to the public that he is Numbered. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like any undue attention is being paid at the moment.

"It . . . is a little strange, yes." He has a bit more potential context for the statement than Micah does, of course. But with such a brief memory, he cannot say anything definitive about it.

Though it doesn't sound particularly promising.

Strange and stranger - for a moment, Micah's only able to blink in surprise at the sudden appearance of the puzzle, an actual puzzle, brought forth by an Echo. Then he shakes his head again and laughs under his breath.

"Well. That's something you don't see everyday. Or at least I don't."

He takes a minute to give Nathan a good looking-over. He really wasn't sure what to expect; he'd imagined someone fragile-looking, from how he sounded, but nothing more concrete than that. Now that they're both here, face to face with each other, Micah can't really say he's terribly surprised to see how the real thing compares to the impression from his voice.

"I'm Micah. You're Nathan. I'd offer to shake your hand, but you look a little occupied." The corner of his mouth quirks up in a halfway halfway smile. "Anyway, it's nice to put a name to the voice, finally."

"You get used to things like this eventually."

Nathan actually gets item Echoes semi-frequently. More often that a lot of Numbered, possibly. He's become relatively accustomed to having things appear out of nowhere for him. It's almost funny what one can get used to.

The scrutiny does not bother Nathan as much as one might think. It's another thing that is old hat to him. Even as a child he would get longer looks due to his unusual colouring. Standing out is not new. He's a rather pitiful-looking creature as he is well aware: uncommonly small, noticeably thin, extremely pale. To say nothing of the hair that is naturally white and not the result of an Echo.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

The memory seems to be the only thing that Micah has gotten. There isn't any change in what Nathan has determined to be his usual demeanour, so that means the hatred must be absent. Right? Maybe? Hopefully? It's hardly as if he can just ask such a thing.

"So . . . I suppose we should go and put a face to the other voice."

Yes, he's probably blundering through this meeting a bit. But then, Micah should know enough by now not to expect normal interaction out of Nathan. Normal things are not ones that Nathan is typically good at.

"I don't know if I like the idea of getting used to this sort of thing." Micah shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest. "You know what happened to me on the ride here? I got a whole other language up in here now." He taps a finger at his temple, indicating his brain, then shoves both hands inside the pockets of his black leather motorcycle jacket. "It's weird."

Micah's tense, and it bleeds through in the taut way he speaks, but it's more a product of general circumstances, not any specific feelings about Nathan, or remembered feelings about his Other. He's usually tense, though - full of unexpressed energy, unable to sit or stand still for long. Nathan will likely come to recognize this as Micah's standard, in time, if he hasn't already.

But it's one reason why Micah's glad to get moving when Nathan makes the suggestion - it's time to move on to the next step. No sense in prolonging the wait, right? He nods, shifting his weight back onto his heels.

"Lead the way."

"It happens regardless."

He notices the tension, and it leaves a part of him on edge even if it is not directed at him. Just another aspect of his anxiety; he picks up on that kind of thing and he reacts in turn. Though in his case, it's hidden behind a studiously blank face and nothing about his posture changes. He can be good at hiding this sort of thing when he really tries.

When Micah agrees, he moves to enter the hospital. And he nods at hearing what his teleporter Echo had been, completely unsurprised. "I've acquired two that way, and we should both expect more. Which did you get?"

He navigates the halls easily, needing no direction. He has been here enough times.

Micah follows Nathan through the hallways, half a step behind and at his side. He has to make an effort to keep pace with him instead of pulling ahead at a quicker stride, but he manages to do so, with some concentration.

"Japanese. Weirdest thing, too - I don't think I knew a single word before, and now it's like I've got everything, all at once." Micah chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking about what Nathan's said. "What makes you think there'll be more?"

Being the size of an average twelve-year-old (despite his real age), Nathan does indeed have a short stride. Were their roles here reversed, he'd have been hurrying to keep up. He keeps the puzzle tucked as close to him as he can while they walk, not wanting to risk bumping anyone with it. He should probably ask for something to put the pieces in later, too. What good will the puzzle be, if he loses any of the pieces?

"That's how it happened with Japanese and Russian for me." Having such a wealth of knowledge slam into one's mind abruptly can be a little alarming. "Lazarus has more. And our Others all had very similar education."

Possibly identical, even. At least in their own cases, considering that the program Near and Mello had gone through had been to replicate L's skills.

He nods ahead. "Four doors up the hall, on the left."

"What, like intensive language programs or something?" Micah can't quite wrap his head around what sort of educational program would require learning multiple languages like that. What would be the point of knowing so many different languages?

He ponders the question as he silently counts past the next three doors and draws to a halt in front of the fourth, on the left, just as Nathan indicated. Here goes nothing, he thinks, taking a deep breath and knocking briskly against the door.

Among other things, Nathan does not say. From what he and Lazarus have gotten back, he is rather sure that Wammy's House did not do anything by halves. But he doesn't want to overload Micah too much if he does not need to.

He just stands silently at Micah's side when he knocks. So far, this meeting has gone relatively well. Hopefully, it will continue that way.

Lazarus is sitting on the made bed with a large plastic bag containing his possessions at his side; he didn't have much with him during his stay, aside from some toiletries and clothing and general small items of comfort brought to him by those who cared enough to fetch them. His father's watch and family's menorah were brought by request; as is his habit when he changes locations for significant amounts of time, he likes having those nearby. He's staring at his shoes when he hears familiar, approaching voices and a sharp rap on the door.

The nervousness had started to seep out of him, but now it's back full force. He starts to rise, but opts to save his stiff leg the unnecessary steps. "Please come in," he calls, wondering if his script will hold up or he should abandon it entirely. He catches a glimpse of himself in the room's mirror above the sink by glancing sideways, and it's about as bad as he thought; three weeks of hospital food and constant anxiety and depression eating at him have done the robustness of his appearance absolutely no favors.

Micah takes a deep breath as he twists the handle and pushes open the door. Just because he's confident navigating social situations doesn't mean he doesn't also experience his own anxieties - just that he's good at working his way through it, that he refuses to let it hold him back. He doesn't know what to expect from meeting Lazarus, any more than he'd known what to expect from Nathan.

He steps forward into the room, and another wave of dizziness overtakes him as his gaze falls on the man seated on the bed. It's the same as earlier, with Nathan, just with a longer length of memory revealed to him this time. Micah frowns, then shakes his head, as if to clear away the memory from the front of his mind. There's so much new information, all at once; he'll have to process and unpack everything later, when he's alone. At the moment, he has other things on which to focus his attention.

Slowly, Micah approaches Lazarus, hand outstretched in greeting. "Good to finally meet you," he says. Then, after a moment's pause, he follows up with a question: "What kind of a name is 'Beyond Birthday,' anyway?"

He lets Micah go in first, following unobtrusively. And he isn't terribly surprised to see the telltale sign of another Echo hitting him, even he hadn't had the same experience himself.

Not wanting to interrupt the introduction, he moves to set the puzzle on the bedside table, checking to make sure none of the pieces fall on the floor. He almost freezes at the mention of Beyond Birthday, but manages to quell it. There isn't much of a positive association with that name, and he wonders what exactly Micah remembers about it.

The two young men enter and it's both welcome and extremely nerve-wracking. It's intensely striking to see the two pale-haired young men side by side, cutting a contrast to Lazarus as well as to each other. He knows innately that they're the future, his future, whether or not he's present for it, and even though he realized it since reconnecting with Nathan, there's a distinctly sobering quality to seeing them both with his own eyes.

L wouldn't dread his death, seeing them here like this. He'd see his immortality.

He stands, reasoning that he'll have to sooner or later anyway. He favors his damaged right leg but doesn't limp, and there's some kind of pride in that. Extending a hand for Micah to shake as he registers Nathan setting up his puzzle in his peripheral vision, he feels the same by-now familiar sensation.

Chocolate. Because he saw, and we shared, and he remembered. His eyes are sadder and hollower when they meet Micah's, but he answers the question.

"It was a real name. Those were very valuable where our Others were from, and very dangerous. Our truths and secrets and lives were very closely connected."

He takes his seat again, nodding at the two available chairs, should either of them want to take one.

"You've met and spoken, clearly. Tell me how that's going."

Micah listens carefully to what Lazarus says, responding only with a nod of his head and a quiet hum of acknowledgement. He has a thousand questions - how is it possible they were so closely connected in this past life Micah is only just beginning to remember? How, and why? - but he keeps them on the back of his tongue for the moment. They'll get to this eventually; he's reasonably certain about that.

He pulls one of the indicated chairs toward the bed by a few inches and sits down on the forward edge of the seat. "Well, it's only been about ten minutes, but we haven't killed each other yet." His tone is light, and there's a trace of a smile on his face. A joke, obviously.

He instinctively watches when Lazarus moves. Having been here so often, he's witnessed the progression of his recovery, and always keeps an eye on it. The lack of a limp is encouraging.

He pulls up a chair when motioned to do so, sitting as Micah makes that quip about having not killed each other yet. That gets a brief, nervous laugh out of him, the same as that joke about serial killers in their first conversation. Micah keeps unintentionally hitting awkward topics with his jokes.

"It's fine." And it is, really. At least sort of. It could be far, far worse at any rate. "We're getting along okay."

Which is at least more than could be said for their Others.

There's definitely still pain; the nerve and muscle damage ensure that this will be true for a fairly long time to come. But if anything can be said for Nathan and Lazarus alike, it's that they don't like to broadcast when they're suffering. Now that they're all sitting, it's a non-issue and will be until the moment when Lazarus sheds the protective shell of this room and returns to the exhaustion of fixing things in Shepherd's Haven... and turning his gaze toward both defensive measures for the future and retaliatory measures for those who cannot be allowed to get away with what was done there.

For now, though, the challenge is surprisingly comfortable. It's a testament to how far Nathan's come that this meeting isn't nearly as awkward as the first time he was introduced to Tony. Maybe it also means that all the awkwardness has already happened and been passed by, but Lazarus is in the mood to count blessings and appreciate them, even if it's for more than they technically are. Hell, Nathan even laughs at a joke about murder. It makes Lazarus exhale sharply, mouth turning upward in a cautious smile.

"Many of us try to live by a rule. It's simple: we learn what we can from our Others, but we are not them and our fates aren't carved in stone. You might remember some things that are... difficult, or unpleasant. You must try not to let it influence your relationships with any reincarnates, even if the accompanying feelings are very powerful."

He grapples with this himself. He's dating a girl who wanted him dead and was in love with his rival in their last life, after all, and things are perhaps not surprisingly very complicated

Edited 2015-11-29 01:21 (UTC)

Micah nods, pulling the zipper down the front of his black leather motorcycle jacket. "That makes sense. I don't think anyone likes feeling overshadowed by their past, even if it was an entirely different life. People like to think of themselves as self-determining entities." He leans forward in the chair, elbows propped on his knees, and glances first sideways at Nathan, then back to Lazarus. He's already experienced what Lazarus said - powerful feelings for the other man, brought inexplicably by the memory of meeting his Other. L. And the feeling was one of not only deep respect, but awe, like hearing the story he was told was a rare and precious gift, like L was the single most important thing in the life of Micah's Other.

"Look, I gotta level with you guys." Micah takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. "From what you're saying now, and what you've said before, I get this feeling like you're holding back on me. Like maybe you're afraid of me or something? I mean, I know I've got a certain way about me." A tough guy, don't-fuck-with-me exterior; Micah is aware of it because it was, for the most part, consciously cultivated. Survival on the streets meant never allowing room for weakness to show, and to some extent, it was true of his life before he spent time being homeless. The addition of the scar on his face certainly didn't help create an air of approachability, either.

Micah chews at his bottom lip for another second before continuing. "It's like you're expecting that I'm not going to get along with Nathan here. And that's not what most people usually expect; they'd have the opposite assumption, that people will automatically get along and be friendly with each other unless proven otherwise." Micah doesn't necessarily include himself in that population. He knows too well the kind of cruelty humans are capable of inflicting on each other, and he tends not to trust people until they've earned it, until they've proven that they are trustworthy. "And it just seems like you're putting an awful lot of emphasis on that one thing. I mean, hell, you yourself even said, that first time you talked to me, that you wanted you and me to be on good terms in this life." Micah gestures to Lazarus as he says this. "That kind of implies that we weren't on good terms before." He shrugs. "So lay it on me. If I'm supposed to be working with you guys, I think I need to not be kept in the dark."

Edited 2015-11-29 20:14 (UTC)

His fingers start to fidget in his lap at all this, and he's torn between curling them into his hair and reaching for the puzzle to calm himself. In the end, he decides on the former.

Micah mostly has it right, if not for the exactly correct reasons. Some of this is just Nathan's natural awkwardness. He does not expect to get along with everyone by default, and honestly tends to attribute that to deficiencies in himself. He's the strange one, he's the one that does not know what he's doing in social contexts. But with Micah, everything gets magnified due to what he knows of that other life.

He does deserve an explanation, though.

"I did not . . . want to unload everything on you so early." This is at least partially true. Getting hit in the face with Echo after Echo after Echo, especially if they are all unpleasant, is probably not a nice experience. And he'd . . . wanted the chance for them to be able to get along first. "I cannot say for yours and his, but yours and mine . . . they didn't get along. It's more a worry than an expectation. We are different people; I realize the worry likely is not a particularly rational one."

Nathan is not good at a lot of things, but worrying irrationally is one of them. His fingers keep winding into his hair.

Some people. Lazarus still struggles with this, feeling like he needs to do a lot more to live up to the legacy of his intimidating Other, even if he wasn't objectively the good man that Lazarus desperately wants to be. It's a balancing act and Micah might do a better job at adjusting healthily than either him or Nathan have been able to. Looking at him? Hell, he might just be healthier in general. Maybe he can handle what they've been walking on eggshells to avoid.

He nods in agreement with Nathan. "It's not that we intend to keep anything from you... we just know from experience that it's a lot to process. Even for brave, intelligent and very strong people," he adds, so it doesn't seem like he's making any insulting asssumptions about the constitution of the other man. "According to my memories, our Others did get along, even though they only met once. But what Nathan says is consistent with what I understand... that your other, Mello, and his other, Near, were at-odds. You were competitors, and I believe that it is at least partly the fault of my other. L."

Edited 2015-11-30 21:13 (UTC)

Micah pays them both careful attention as they speak, one after the other; this is an important meeting, and he gives it his entire focus. When Lazarus arrives at the revelation of Micah's Other's name, Micah slowly sits back in his chair, laughing quietly.

"'Mello,' huh." He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. "His parents must've really hated him. No wonder he ran out." He sighs, shaking his head. He's already done the hard part - accepting that he lived another life, in the past. Accepting that he had a ridiculous name comes surprisingly easy. "So what kind of competition was it, and how was L involved?"

Nathan does question a bit whether those had been their real names. All of Near's agents had used fake ones -- he remembers both the real names and the aliases -- so it would only stand to reason that he'd used something fake as well. But that is unimportant in the scheme of this conversation.

He keeps curling his fingers into his hair.

"L was . . . the objective." It feels very strange to say it that way, but it is an essentially true statement. "The competition was . . . to decide who would take over for him after his death."

"Mello," Lazarus confirms softly, with none of the humor or ridicule. He's well-used to the strange names in their world by this point, and doesn't even blink when a new one is revealed. Someday Micah might be similarly desensitized. "If his parents named him, which might actually not be the case... given how important names were in this reality..."

He can't help but think that L, the detective whose memories he is inheriting, would be a lot more skilled and concise about explaining this.

Nodding to confirm what Nathan's said, he adds "Death or insanity. It was a coveted position and a dangerous and high-pressure one. L knew that even in a best-case scenario, he couldn't remain L forever. It might have been the only way he acknowledged and accepted that he was mortal."

Edited 2015-12-02 22:55 (UTC)

Just like that, Micah sobers; all traces of amusement drop from his face. "OK, but you do realize how deeply fucked-up that sounds, right? 'L was the objective?'" He's not angry, per se, just intense; still, his words take on a sharper edge as he glances back and forth between Nathan and Lazarus. "L was a person. And he was really important." He'd at least been able to gather that much of Mello's feelings about L from the Echo, the memory of meeting the other man. "Saying that there was a competition to take over for him after he was dead ... that's just morbid."

He feels that sharpness in Micah's gaze and wants to curl up to protect himself. While he resists that particular urge, he winds his fingers more tightly into his hair.

"We do know how disturbing this is. But it's how it was in that life. Our Others . . . were not well people."

Nathan almost sounds apologetic over the whole concept. It is morbid, insane, and wrong. But it's also the truth of that other life.

Well. That is certainly one way to put it, Lazarus thinks dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose. It makes him look even more worn and exhausted, which is somehow still possible at this point.

He nods his shaggy head. "Yes, I realize. Both of us do, as Nathan says... please keep in mind that we are not these people."

Even if we, also, are not well...

"I don't know how L thought about this aspect of his life and career. I want to think that some part of him recognized how strange and terrible it was, as we do, but... I think he saw it as a way for his work to continue in legacy. His life was a piece on a chessboard, but... not one essential to winning the game. That's what mattered to him. Mello and Near continued where he left off after he... died. Beacuse that indeed happened, while he was still young, and I don't believe he saw it as even approaching the worst possible outcome."

His features are sad and distant as he relates what he believes about the twisted, strange lives of those young men they resemble and take after in spirit. He wants to protect Micah and Nathan and give them the same things he would give a family if he had one. He wants this for his own sake, as well as the huge karmic debt he feels he owes them over the span of two lifetimes.

"No, I get it." Micah shakes his head, biting back a comment about how their Others must have been certifiable. Out of the three of them in this room, Micah has the least information; he can at least wait for more information before vocalizing an opinion about them, especially given how cautious both Nathan and Lazarus have been about exposing him to details about their Others.

"We're not the same people. And really, I'm not gonna judge you - either of you - based on these other people, who they were and what they did." Micah frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "I just think it's pretty sad, that's all."

Stating that their Others must have been certifiable might not have met much, if any, disagreement. Lazarus and Nathan may not be well themselves, but they are probably, in their own way, healthier people than they'd been in that other life.

Or at least better people.

"It is sad." Nathan agrees to that much without hesitation. "Unfortunately, it's unlikely that many of the memories you get will be of good things."

He doesn't want to paint a completely hopeless picture, but the fact is that their old lives were . . . twisted, sad, and dangerous. Perhaps there is some good interspersed with it all, but hardly any of that has been borne out by Echoes. Generally, neutral memories are the best that any of them have a right to hope for.

Pretty sad. Well... in its way, that kind of sums it all up, doesn't it? Lazarus thinks of those empty-eyed child monstes with everything to prove, and how failure wasn't just disappointing for them, but violently and existentially devastating.

If Near succeeded L and they can assume that much, it's reasonable to assume that Mello didn't, and that he was therefore one of those. Maybe not on the level of Beyond Birthday's drastically different life direction, burning all to pieces just to win a game of his own design, but he can't know for sure.

L nods his hollow agreement. Every second they talk about this he feels a little emptier, and he wonders if his Other felt this way all the time. It's on a different level from how he felt as a lost and desperate young adult who felt cornered and trapped by life. It's more like dead acceptance.

"We don't want you to come to any harm on our account. We will answer any questions you have and do whatever we can to keep you safe. But consider it fair warning..."

"Caveat emptor, huh." Micah nods in return, chewing the inside of his cheek while he thinks. There really isn't any going back to his old life - that much is certain - so there's no point in clinging to the past. And he is genuinely curious - about these two, about what they know, about what they can tell him. About the past life of which he's received only a few brief flashes. About everything, really.

"I'm pretty good at looking after myself," he finally says. "I'm all in. Tell me everything - good, bad, ugly. The works. I wanna know."

What good? That would be the depressive aspect of Nathan's brain talking, right there. But he keeps that to himself, having already expressed a milder version of it already.

He unwinds his fingers from his hair, finally, but he rolls over the little bedside table with his new (or old, all things considered) puzzle on it. Trading one calming activity for another. He shifts a few pieces around, looking for a hint of drawing or shading, but every single one of them so far seems to be pure white.

"With that, you should of course also expect the possibility of several Echoes." Just a fair warning. Having them come in quick succession can be dizzying, and Micah has only had a few so far and probably isn't yet accustomed to the feeling.

More sorting through the pieces, and still all white. Hm. "To put together what's already been said . . . in that life, our Others competed to take the place of L, who was considered to be the greatest detective in the world. That's why the intensive language programs; a case could turn up anywhere and they needed to be effective communicators.

"All three of our Others grew up and were educated in an orphanage called Wammy's House, located in Winchester, Great Britain."

Nathan leaves it there for the moment, still sorting through puzzle pieces, watching out of the corner of his eye for any telltale sign of an Echo.

It's so horrendously bleak. Lazarus doesn't know how to move forward, even with Nathan's valiant help and Micah's admirable patience and understanding. It's more than he could have asked or hoped for, and tragically, he suspects that it will not be enough.

Still, he is working earnestly toward respecting the choices of those he takes under his wing from a former life. Nathan drew the line when he meddled too much, and though it had been initially shocking, he's grown to appreciate that he had stepped forward and stated his preference. If Micah wants to know, he has to trust Micah, foremost, to know what he wants.

"I think that L was the first," he says, trying to continue where Nathan left off. "At least, the first of note. He was very precocious and was something like a savant for solving cases. The effort was to recreate that perfect storm, and I think it broke a lot of children. It didn't leave L whole, either, but... to him, and even them, perhaps it was simply normal. Anyway... this orphanage was competitive and L was supposed to choose a child to take his place before his death, but he never got that chance. A particular investigation claimed his life as well as the life of the orphanage's founder. He went by 'Watari.'"

He pauses, on the same lookout for echoes as Nathan.

Nathan and Lazarus are right - two Echoes hit Micah in quick succession, and the accompanying dizziness is enough to cause a stronger physical reaction this time. Micah exhales sharply through his teeth, leaning forward in his chair to drop his head into his open hands, propped up by his elbows on his knees.

"You know Near and I don't get along," he says, voice taut through clenched teeth. "We're always competing. Always."

Micah doesn't immediately sit up after he's recited this statement from the second memory; he remains slouched forward with his head in his hands for a long moment, breathing hard, willing the wave of nausea brought on by the pair of Echoes to subside.

The statement gets a reaction from Nathan, too. But just one, and his is far more subdued -- a momentary halt in his organization of the puzzle pieces when the sensation hits him.

He watches Micah awkwardly, but unsure of quite what to do for him, opts to leave him be so that he can collect himself. And when Micah speaks, he shifts uncomfortably. Such painfully familiar words for the second time today.

"... The same one again."

Nothing happens for Lazarus. He suspects, strongly, that it was beyond his time and out of his reach. These words were spoken after L's death, in other words, and it's in the same ultimate vein as seeing ghosts as the two young men receive their twin echoes.

"I propose that's enough for today," he says quietly. "I hope the reason for this proposal isn't difficult to guess... I would ask both of you to try to keep these revelations in perspective, above all else."

He thinks that Nathan will; it's Micah he's not sure about.

"Yeah ... more of the picture, this time." Micah takes a deep breath, rakes his fingers back through his hair, and finally sits up. As much as he's reluctant to halt the flow of information so soon, he's keenly aware of the worry Lazarus has for the negative relationship between his and Nathan's Others, and the possible bleedover between him and Nathan.

It doesn't matter to him. These memories - they're from someone else's life. Not his. He's determined not to let them become a larger part of his life than necessary.

"I could probably use an aspirin or two," he says, with half a smile.

It's fortunate for Micah that he'd apparently missed the types of Echoes that many of them had experienced several weeks prior to this. Actually living the moments instead of remembering them, all too distressingly real. Hinting that the former life might be able to reach out and take hold of them, even for a moment.

Nathan lets out a breath, and nods. He has had much practice by now of trying to keep things in perspective, and while he usually still has worry in the back of his mind, he likes to think that he's fairly good at that.

"Considering where we are, such a thing shouldn't be a problem."

At the very least, Lazarus feels like there's been some illumination on a topic that was poorly understood before, at least for Micah. He worries that it was too much too quickly and that the young man might not be able to get past the very powerful feelings in the echoes, but it's difficult to predict at present. He and Nathan did have a chance to get to know each other a little before this, after all, as the people they are and not those past shadows leaking into their present lives.

"I have some," Lazarus volunteers, picking up his bag of belongings and setting them on the mattress beside him to rifle through. Not that they've done much for him while he's in a burn ward, not that morphine was always enough, but he's in the habit of keeping some for minor aches and pains. Whether or not Micah was joking, Lazarus is also in the habit of taking such things very seriously. He moves a little awkwardly as he leans over his injured leg, but retrieves the bottle fairly quickly and offers it.

He's not joking this time; Micah accepts the bottle with a nod of thanks, opens it, retrieves two pills, and swallows them dry before handing the bottle back to Lazarus.

"Thanks," he says, quietly, rubbing at his temple. So many memories, so much new information all at once - it's more than he expected. How does someone know what to expect in a situation like this? It's more or less without precedent, for Micah.

"Well ... this certainly hasn't been boring."

Edited 2015-12-19 00:31 (UTC)

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Keep Burning Like We're Never Gonna Die [Closed]

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