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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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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