"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.
"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"
Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.
He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.
Rory was the next one to open up about themselves. He seemed slightly nervous talking to the group, a feeling that Katja could very much relate with. The thought of having family in PRCU, even if they were in the collegiate, seemed nice to her. And from the way he spoke of them, Rory seemed to draw some semblance of strength at the thought of them being close by. Him mentioning he was experienced in wrestling almost made her eyes spark with joy. Finally someone who also practiced a martial art… Even if it was a completely different discipline from her own. His power seemed interesting too, the possible applications of which seemed endless to Katja. Barely able to contain her excitement at having met a fellow martial arts practitioner though, she spoke up to him after taking one last bite from her kebab, her mouth half full. ”It’s awesome you’re into martial arts too! I’m very much into kickboxing but have been interested in getting into MMA. Maybe you can teach me some moves?”
Rory’s eyes settled on Banjo for a moment, clocking a moment of… discomfort? Fear? It was hard to say… but the look on his face matched the feeling Rory had in his gut whenever he thought about what he could do. Though… quite frankly, Rory’s imagination probably wasn’t as vivid. Given the powers shared around the campfire as only a starting point, it is terrifying being around someone who can do anything given the right circumstances. But before Rory could spiral too far, his cheeks grew a little red as Katja spoke. The contrast between the reactions was jarring, but it was a welcome change. He flashed a small smile and a nod in response. ”I never really tried either… But I’d be happy to teach what I know. Maybe you could teach me some kickboxing in return?”
Things began to wind themselves down as the fire grew weak. The tents were much nicer than he expected, and Rory settled in for bed rather quickly as he stripped down to just his shorts. He spent a few minutes with his phone light looking through his notes on his team again. He needed to know what they all did… but as sleep crept over him, he welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep.
It was nice.
Maybe things were going to be ok.
Location: Dr. Morse's Office / The Funeral - P.R.C.U. Campus
The Homecoming Trials #2.07 : No Sleep
Mention(s) and Interaction(s): Banjo @Hound55, Katja @Zoldyck, Haleigh @Kuro, Trace @psych0pomp
Previously: Is this Kumbayah?
2 Days after “the incident”
”You aren’t sleeping?” Dr. Morse’s question was phrased more as a statement. Rory looked down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. His leg was shaking like it always did.
”No. I can’t.”
”Can’t, or won’t?”
Rory grit his teeth as he leaned back in his chair. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Dr. Morse leaned forward in her own chair, setting the notebook and pencil on an ornate side table. ”You need to be honest with me. I can’t help you if-”
”Help? Help what?” Rory’s leg was shaking so violently at this point that he shot up out of his chair, quickly pacing back and forth along the length of the room. He didn’t make eye contact, as his eyes were nearly closed at this point. By his movements, he looked wide awake… but his face betrayed his sleep deprivation. ”Cass needed help, and we couldn’t do a single fucking thing. I… I…” The words were thick in his throat, caught somewhere in his windpipe and threatening to choke him.
”You couldn’t save him… None of us could.” Dr. Morse closed her eyes, relying on her powers this time. Rory noticed her wince, before trying to mask the disgust. She took a couple breaths as she opened her eyes. Dr. Morse didn’t look at Rory as she grabbed her notebook again to write down a couple notes. ”What you’re experiencing is something called Survivor’s Guilt, in response to a severe traumatic event. It’s… expected, after something like this.”
Rory’s pace slowed as his body began losing steam. He looked at Dr. Morse in the eyes as she motioned towards the chair opposite to her. He relented and sat down, elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he rubbed his eyes. ”I haven’t seen it in years.”
Dr. Morse closed her eyes again, before having to stifle a chuckle. ”I’m not talking about TV. You just survived a near death encounter… and someone you knew died in that encounter. I don’t have to read your mind to know you’re wondering why it wasn’t you.”
Rory didn’t respond.
Dr. Morse stood up, moving over to a set of cabinets and opening the first drawer, sorting through the folders for a moment before finding a small two-pocket folder with some handouts. She walked back to her seat, setting the folder to the side for a moment. ”We’re going to go over some exerci-... routines you can put in place to begin the process of dealing with the guilt and grief. But before we do that… I want you to understand that you aren’t the only one going through this, Rory.”
Rory gave a small nod.
Now
”I… uhh… I didn’t really get to know him that well…”
Rory stood in front of the gathered crowd, hands gripping on to the podium like it was a life raft. He had been to enough of these that he should be comfortable. Three funerals in three years… it was beginning to feel like an annual tradition at this point. He had volunteered without much thought. But now that he had to look at Cassander’s family… it became clear how little Rory knew his teammate. He was dressed up nicer than he ever had in his life. No one knew how many times he had to re-tie the red neck tie and fix his hat in the mirror before the funeral. Rory’s appearance was the only thing he could control here. Rory cleared his throat, removing his hands from the podium to grab his notes and shove them into his pants pocket.
His cheeks were dry. He had run out of tears six months ago.
That thought killed Rory.
”He was funny. He was smart. He… he understood what it means to be here. I don’t know if he wanted to be here, or if he wanted to be part of our team… I think I would have been lucky to have gotten to know him. He seemed kind… strong. When push came to shove… he acted. He would have been a good H.I.T. agent…” Rory’s eyes turned to his teammates in the crowd. ”We… we’ve just got to make him proud.”
Rory kept his eulogy quick, opting not to focus on the body before he settled back in with the others. He still looked, for lack of a better word, sick. It was clear he still wasn’t sleeping well. He could barely keep his eyes open through the rest of the ceremony. He almost hadn’t noticed when everyone began filing away, back towards the Minotaurs. Rory was practically frozen stiff staring out at the horizon where the body had drifted. He finally turned and followed the crowd, moving at a somewhat brisk pace. He tuned out most of the conversations and murmurs around him, before a small sentence crept through the noise.
Rory snapped his head in the direction of Haleigh and Trace.
Rory strolled over in their direction, lifting his hands to readjust his coat absent-mindedly. ”Trace is right.” Those words felt weird coming out of his mouth. Rory didn’t make eye contact with the two of them, and kept his voice down to avoid drawing too much attention their way. ”For now, at least. Cass tried, and I can’t do another funeral. I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Asking why. It doesn’t make any sense to me… but that’s not new.” Rory paused for a moment, out of habit. Negative self talk wasn’t going to help right now. ”I think we all deserve answers. No matter what it takes.”
”You aren’t sleeping?” Dr. Morse’s question was phrased more as a statement. Rory looked down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. His leg was shaking like it always did.
”No. I can’t.”
”Can’t, or won’t?”
Rory grit his teeth as he leaned back in his chair. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Dr. Morse leaned forward in her own chair, setting the notebook and pencil on an ornate side table. ”You need to be honest with me. I can’t help you if-”
”Help? Help what?” Rory’s leg was shaking so violently at this point that he shot up out of his chair, quickly pacing back and forth along the length of the room. He didn’t make eye contact, as his eyes were nearly closed at this point. By his movements, he looked wide awake… but his face betrayed his sleep deprivation. ”Cass needed help, and we couldn’t do a single fucking thing. I… I…” The words were thick in his throat, caught somewhere in his windpipe and threatening to choke him.
”You couldn’t save him… None of us could.” Dr. Morse closed her eyes, relying on her powers this time. Rory noticed her wince, before trying to mask the disgust. She took a couple breaths as she opened her eyes. Dr. Morse didn’t look at Rory as she grabbed her notebook again to write down a couple notes. ”What you’re experiencing is something called Survivor’s Guilt, in response to a severe traumatic event. It’s… expected, after something like this.”
Rory’s pace slowed as his body began losing steam. He looked at Dr. Morse in the eyes as she motioned towards the chair opposite to her. He relented and sat down, elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he rubbed his eyes. ”I haven’t seen it in years.”
Dr. Morse closed her eyes again, before having to stifle a chuckle. ”I’m not talking about TV. You just survived a near death encounter… and someone you knew died in that encounter. I don’t have to read your mind to know you’re wondering why it wasn’t you.”
Rory didn’t respond.
Dr. Morse stood up, moving over to a set of cabinets and opening the first drawer, sorting through the folders for a moment before finding a small two-pocket folder with some handouts. She walked back to her seat, setting the folder to the side for a moment. ”We’re going to go over some exerci-... routines you can put in place to begin the process of dealing with the guilt and grief. But before we do that… I want you to understand that you aren’t the only one going through this, Rory.”
Rory gave a small nod.
Now
”I… uhh… I didn’t really get to know him that well…”
Rory stood in front of the gathered crowd, hands gripping on to the podium like it was a life raft. He had been to enough of these that he should be comfortable. Three funerals in three years… it was beginning to feel like an annual tradition at this point. He had volunteered without much thought. But now that he had to look at Cassander’s family… it became clear how little Rory knew his teammate. He was dressed up nicer than he ever had in his life. No one knew how many times he had to re-tie the red neck tie and fix his hat in the mirror before the funeral. Rory’s appearance was the only thing he could control here. Rory cleared his throat, removing his hands from the podium to grab his notes and shove them into his pants pocket.
His cheeks were dry. He had run out of tears six months ago.
That thought killed Rory.
”He was funny. He was smart. He… he understood what it means to be here. I don’t know if he wanted to be here, or if he wanted to be part of our team… I think I would have been lucky to have gotten to know him. He seemed kind… strong. When push came to shove… he acted. He would have been a good H.I.T. agent…” Rory’s eyes turned to his teammates in the crowd. ”We… we’ve just got to make him proud.”
Rory kept his eulogy quick, opting not to focus on the body before he settled back in with the others. He still looked, for lack of a better word, sick. It was clear he still wasn’t sleeping well. He could barely keep his eyes open through the rest of the ceremony. He almost hadn’t noticed when everyone began filing away, back towards the Minotaurs. Rory was practically frozen stiff staring out at the horizon where the body had drifted. He finally turned and followed the crowd, moving at a somewhat brisk pace. He tuned out most of the conversations and murmurs around him, before a small sentence crept through the noise.
"I'm going to kill him."
Rory snapped his head in the direction of Haleigh and Trace.
"Cass. Banjo. Jim. Tad. He's going to pay for everything."
“Innit what Hyperion would want? Get angry? So, he can spout more stupidity about bein’ superior while we flop around like fish? Nah, I’m good. I ain’ bathin’ in blood for Cass. You can, though. You got the power to.” They held the hibiscus out to Haleigh. “Aren’t you more interested to find out why us? Why Tad? How did they know we were goin’ to be out in the middle of nowhere? This place has its secrets, too, and I’m not happy playin’ that they’re innocent in this, either.”
Rory strolled over in their direction, lifting his hands to readjust his coat absent-mindedly. ”Trace is right.” Those words felt weird coming out of his mouth. Rory didn’t make eye contact with the two of them, and kept his voice down to avoid drawing too much attention their way. ”For now, at least. Cass tried, and I can’t do another funeral. I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Asking why. It doesn’t make any sense to me… but that’s not new.” Rory paused for a moment, out of habit. Negative self talk wasn’t going to help right now. ”I think we all deserve answers. No matter what it takes.”