maskormenacelogs | DECEMBER CATCH-ALL

[Jaime spends much of his first hour back in a daze. The government workers taking him from Cape Canaveral to Heropa seem to be fine with that, kindly staying quiet while he tries to come to terms with everything that's happened, with all these memories that suddenly came flooding back to him. It's hard to figure out how he feels; he has a year's worth of joy, but he also has an extra year of memories with someone who's effectively dead, an extra year of memories of the friends and bonds that Khaji had made.

Not only that, but he's realizing that Traci had warned him about practically everything that had happened. The memory of her sitting down with him, telling him about Nadia and Eddie and how he went bad aches like an old bruise. He had known, could have stopped it from happening, and then... he didn't. He remembers those days in his childhood, when he went to soccer practice and ran and ran, ignoring his body telling him not to, and came right back home and wound up running some more with Paco, tumbling over the table in his backyard until they got yelled at. He remembers how the day afterwards, he always wound up laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to quite define how every inch of him managed to ache.

He feels a little like that now, but in his heart. Just a couple nights ago, he'd been giving a eulogy for Eddie, and now... this. When he gets out of the car and stares at his house, he suddenly feels too bone-tired to even risk waking up the rest of the house with his re-arrival. He needs some time to reacquaint himself with this place, get his bearings before he can even think about talking to everyone.

So instead of walking through the front door like a normal person, he scales the side of the house, shoves open his bedroom window, and climbs through.]

[At first, he thinks it's a robber.

A robber? in an imPort house? If he were more awake the bizarreness of the fact would dawn on him, but it is, in fact, three in the morning and he's only waking up from the noise at the window. He sits up, barely visible in the darkness of the room as the glass is slid open, and he watches as the strange figure climbs through.

... A robber? From a bedroom window? It doesn't dawn on him to think it's Jaime, and the quietness with which he appears serves to not set off the alarms in his mind, too. It can't be as dangerous as Tetsuo was if they're this quiet. But still.]

... Who are you?

[Because speaking to an intruder is the correct thing to do.]

[For a moment Jaime freezes stock still, staring into the darkness of his room like a child who's been caught sneaking in the house past his curfew. For one, ridiculous moment, that's exactly what he feels like until he remembers that this is his house and his room, and that he's been living without his parents for an awfully long time now.

Old habits die hard.

Then, of course, the name that belongs to that voice comes to Jaime's mind, and deja vu hits so hard and so suddenly that he has to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.]

...Ken? What are you doing in my -- how long was I gone for?

[There's a sharp not of... something in his voice at that question. The last time he'd walked into a younger sibling in his bed, he'd been gone for an entire year.]

[He hears his name called, and he finally remembers that he is, in fact, borrowing Jaime's room. And who would sneak into this room if it weren't for theft and would know his name? Someone who might have a reason to come in here in the dead of night because he doesn't want to disturb the others? After all, this is Jaime's room.

Ken almost falls in his attempt to untangle the blankets (he's using his own blanket, lying over Jaime's because he couldn't bring himself to take that much of his space) and get to his feet as they tangle with his legs. His feet pitter patter over the floor as he crosses over to him, and as he does he walks through the moonlight cast through the window. There are lines that light up on his face, but to the naked eye, it'll be hard to tell between bedsheet-wrinkles and actual cuts in this darkness. Anyway, Ken isn't stopping to give Jaime that good look because he's only stopping when he's close enough to touch him if he reached over.]

... About two weeks, [he doesn't forget to answer.] I-- I've just been staying over. For a few days.

Jaime-san... it's Jaime-san, right?

[Two weeks... okay. That's good. Two weeks, he can handle. That's hardly any time at all. He can't help but feel a rush of relief knowing that he hasn't just disappeared from everyone's lives for months at a time, but that doesn't explain why Ken's in his room.]

Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I'm back now. Hold on, just let me get the light.

[He fumbles along the wall for the light switch, stubbing his toe against the desk while he's at it ("ouch"), once again unused to this room's layout. He flicks the light on, and turns around to look at Ken properly, a concerned line between his brows. He's tired and disoriented, but it hasn't escaped him that Ken staying over in his room is unusual, especially if it's for a few days at a time. What happened while he was gone...?]

...

[Ken squeezes his eyes shut as Jaime turns the light on, blinking rapidly as he starts to open them. He hasn't had the lights on in a while and the sudden brightness hurts.

But if Jaime is wondering what happened while he was gone, perhaps he'll get a bit of an answer now. The lines left on Ken's face are definitely not just wrinkles, and there's a bandaid or two plastered on his cheek. Ken himself doesn't give him any time to ask questions though, because the moment he takes a good look and realizes that this is, in fact, Jaime Reyes, he's shooting forward and throwing his arms around him. Hopefully you don't knock into anything more.]

You're here. It really is you.

[Jaime can't stop that one, sharp intake of breath through his teeth once he sees the lines on Ken's face, a sharp tsssst in the silence of the dead of the night. Ken's hurt? Again? It seemed like just yesterday that he came over with a broken finger, and just last week that he was confined to Minato's house, a veritable wreck after Crane's attack. What happened now? How many times was someone - or something - going to go out of their way to hurt a little boy?

That's why he's here. Because he's hurt, and he's needed Minato to take care of him -- and after telling Minato that they would be there for each other in all matters to do with Ken, he up and got ported out. There's a part of him that wants to pull away and get a better look at Ken, but the greater part of him wants to give in and hug him back.

More importantly, Ken seems to need this hug, so he forces his shoulders to relax and leans over to wrap him up in the biggest hug he can muster, one hand resting lightly on the back of his head, fingers lacing through his hair.]

Yeah. It's me.

[It's been ten days since Ken's seen him, but for Jaime, it's been months. Only after he's made contact with Ken does it register how much he'd missed him, even if he wasn't aware of it at the time. Ken's such a huge part of his life that it's a wonder to him that that other him, that any version of him, could benignly go through life without having this kid on his mind.]

Sorry I took so long.

[More than seeing him and more than hearing him, even though they've only exchanged a few such strong hugs, it's this contact that tells Ken that this is real. Jaime really is back, and he can't be happier in this moment. He squeezes him tightly around the middle, and as usual Ken's hands fist in the back of the other's shirt.

Honestly, part of the reason why he chose chose to stay in Jaime's room was because of how much he missed him. Kaneda and the others would've found a way to keep him safe in Nonah, but he couldn't stand looking at the blood. Minato's presence had done wonders, but it didn't do much for the Jaime-sized hole left in his life, letting in colder wind than the broken window did. Ken knew how easy it was to lose people to the porter. He knew how painful it was to lose people, no matter what the cause. But it's not the loss that makes his feelings well up now; it's the relief of gaining back what was lost and the joy of seeing someone he loved again, that wonderful warmth when the finality of loss is disproven and he feels exactly what he said Jaime gave him: hope.

He clings tightly to the person who had become like a brother to him, more than most others. Jaime had been the first of everybody here to give him the sort of affection he remembered from his mother, and the one who gave it to him most openly. Ken's resolve was strong enough that he could've gritted his teeth and trudged on without him, but nothing beats getting Jaime back. Again. A second time around. He shakes his head at the apology.]

No, it's fine. It's fine Jaime-san, you're back.

I missed you.

[All of this is so familiar it almost hurts. He never thought that any place but his home back in El Paso could be called home. El Paso's where he grew up, where his parents raised him alongside his childhood friends and his little sister, and it's where his heart will always be. But in a very, very different way, this feeling of Ken balling his hands in his shirt makes his chest tighten, because somehow, this feels familiar in a different way.

Then, it hits him what this feels like. It feels like being snatched from the claws of space, landing with a thump and only just managing to claw his way back to something he could hold onto. He remembers climbing through the window that one time, tired and frightened and overwhelmed and ready to crawl under his covers and hide from the world for a year, and running into his little sister instead. What had come afterwards wasn't fun - having to explain himself to his parents while scared out of his mind wasn't on his agenda - but in a way, none of that mattered, because he was out of danger. He was home.

That's what this feels like. It feels like moving away from something scary and strange and overwhelming, and coming back home -- home to new problems, but ones he can handle, because he knows exactly who stands beside him. It aches horribly for a moment, like a punch to the gut, and he has to hang on for a little longer to squeeze his eyes against the encroaching tears. It's fine. This is fine. He's back, and whatever happened to Ken, they'll deal with it together. He's not okay now, maybe won't be for a while, but with these people, he will be.

Once he can trust his emotions not to make him cry in front of Ken, once the funny feeling in his chest subsides enough for him to make sure his voice is steady, he says,] I know. And I missed you too, even if I only got to remember you again a little while ago.

[He takes a deep breath, then finally pulls away.]

You're hurt.

[The day of his injury feels so far away and insignificant in this moment, Ken doesn't understand what Jaime means at first. When it does dawn on him what he's talking about, he wonders why that's important right now. Certainly, they could spend a few more minutes reveling in their reunion? His eyes widen a fraction and he tenses involuntarily under Jaime's hands; his eyebrows crease together and he averts his gaze before he answers, stepping back and pulling the other along so they can find a seat on the edge of Jaime's bed. Ken wasn't exactly sleeping in it; none of Jaime's own blankets have been used, as Ken instead crawled on top of them with a cover of his own, but he doesn't explain why he's here, yet.]

It's nothing serious. [He starts with an assurance instead.] I mean -- Minato-san healed me. And I've been recovering, so you don't have to worry right away.

[He fidgets nervously, once again not ready to tell the whole truth, unsure how Jaime would react, and clasps his hands in his lap.]

'M okay. What about you, Jaime-san?

[Ken may be telling Jaime not to worry right away, but there's nothing to catapult him back into the present like seeing Ken all roughed up -- roughed up, and sleeping in his bed. He follows Ken back to bed, sitting lightly on the edge of it as he lets his eyes rove over Ken's face, taking in every scratch and scar. Maybe he doesn't have to worry about Ken being in any immediate danger, but there's still the fact that he got hurt in the first place.

Again.]

I'm fine, [he says, an immediate, automatic lie. It may be the first time that Jaime out-and-out lied to Ken, but he's not even thinking about what's coming out of his mouth, something that's betrayed by the distraction in his expression and the swiftness of his response.] What happened, though? I get that Minato healed you and all, but... you're in my room.

[Something fishy's afoot.]

[He wanted to focus on Jaime's return. Most of him still does, so being asked about himself feeds less into to the relief of having another person back on his side, and more into an impatience over his needs not being fulfilled. There's a restlessness building and he fidgets, raising a hand to press against his face. If he hides it from Jaime and he doesn't see it, maybe he can steer the conversation away from it?]

I didn't want to make him give up his bed! And... well, my house needed some cleaning up. He was worried so I'm here, where he can keep an eye on me. That's all.

[That's a lot, and he knows it. But he shakes his head and turns to Jaime with a strong, determined glint in his eyes, putting himself on the back burner.] But that's fine. What about you. Did you just get back? You're not hurt, are you?

[That's three different answers, and none of them are adequate, not for Jaime. Not for anyone with more than two brain cells knocking around in their head. Ken wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do, and no matter how worried Minato was, he wouldn't have Ken stay here in Heropa 015 without his actively wanting to. And Ken wants to be home in Nonah, had been aching for it after Crane's attack. There's no reason for it to be different in this case.

There's nothing that will change his suspicion's course now, and it's evident in the way he looks at Ken, searching what's left of his face for an inkling of the truth. He doesn't push just yet, but he will, and soon.]

Yeah. I just got back. And I'm not hurt; you don't have to worry about that. I just didn't want to wake anyone up.

[Ken's full of indignant and -- frankly -- intrusive questions, too. Did he not want to wake anyone up out of just politeness? Or did he want to be alone? Maybe it was the worst night for him to have to run into Ken in his own room. Maybe he just wanted to rest. he regrets not healing up the leftover scratches on his face, too. Then Jaime could've crawled into bed without new worries and Ken could've-- he could've just slept on the couch, he tells himself. That would've been just fine.

He wasn't lying when he gave those answers, at least. He knew better than to flat-out lie to Jaime anymore. But it's apparently not enough for him, and he looks down with a frown, quietly shaking his head.]

I got hurt, yeah. There's a lot of blood on the floor right now. I don't... I don't like blood.

[That's not a great answer, but this time, at least, Jaime's able to read between the lines. If he's over here because there's blood all over his room back home - something he doesn't buy as the whole story, but he's willing to go with the conceit - then that means that he didn't get attacked at some other imPort event, never went back on Minato's deal with Hisoka and sparred with someone who went a little too far.

His eyes widen.]

Hold up. You got attacked at home?

[It's not a pleasant thought. Home is supposed to be off-limits, where you can live and be safe. That's part of why he keeps up his secret ID, part of why the Reach knowing who he was was so truly horrifying; if there's one place you should be able to rest easy, it's in your home. Ken never had that back home, just a dorm room plagued by death, so he could, at least, have it here.]

Ken, what happened?

[For Ken, the illusion of home as a truly safe place was shattered already a long time ago, quite literally, with the demolishment of his home and the death of his mother. He and his first two roommates were all ready for an attack at any time, any place, a cautiousness -- and paranoia, almost -- that manifested in the charm Charlie put over all their furniture, ready to attack any unwanted trespasser.

Home was never an impenetrable safe zone for him. But right now, he hears and understands the shock in Jaime's voice.]

It wasn't planned. I know that. It was just... we don't get along. Because I attacked him at the swear-in. Do you remember when I had my fingers broken?

The swear-in where everyone was attacking each other because of the gas. Where I had to be taken over.

[He'd fought with Hal, he knows, but he wouldn't have if Hal hadn't been attacked. If Khaji hadn't taken over, Jaime may as well have killed himself, by ripping out his spine. Nobody else could be held accountable for what others did that night. Ken's got his interest, though, that much is for sure.]

I remember. Who did it?

["Everybody was affected" is a perfectly reasonable response to someone blaming themselves for that swear-in's disaster, although with Ken, it probably isn't surprising that it doesn't do much to ease the frown off his face. He just shakes his head and sighs, lowering his head and pushing his hand against his hair, curling his fingers and twisting his bangs around them.]

That was him, too. I guess-- we were fighting for a while, already. That was one of the bigger ones.

That's not like you.

[Ken's a fighter, yes, but not an unreasonable one. He's not quick to spring towards a physical defense unless it's absolutely necessary, as far as Jaime is concerned, or unless someone else has been hurt. There was Hisoka, but at least that had been technically consensual.]

What started it all?

[There's another shake of his head.]

I mean fighting like-- I never fought back. I didn't want to. He was mad at me because I fought in the first place. He had a lot of terrible things happen in the past, and he was starting to trust me but I attacked him. Even if it was Crane's fault...

I dunno. It just kept getting worse and worse.

[Ken not fighting back just makes Jaime's frown deepen. There's a difference between not fighting someone - always a good plan - and not defending yourself. Jaime knows how it is, how tempting it is just to lay back and accept it when someone else is attacking you if you don't want to fight back, but it's different if you're getting hurt.

And Ken's gotten hurt more than once.]

There's nothing wrong with defending yourself if someone's hurting you, Ken -- or telling someone, if it comes to that. But you just said that it didn't start at Crane's. Unless this guy goes around fighting everyone, then it must have started sometime else, right? For some other reason?

[He shrugs.]

He doesn't really trust anyone. He has good reason not to -- I can't say why, but a lot of stuff happened for him back home. So he was really wary of me, so we didn't get along. I-- [and now he shakes his head.] It's fine. It's not important. I was the one who stayed silent about it all this time.

You got hurt. Anything that hurts you, no matter why they did it, is important -- not just you keeping quiet about it.

[Jaime's brows furrow. He'd be able to handle this so much better if they were having this talk another time, he's sure of it. As it is, his head is fuzzy with his return, and he struggles to figure out how to put his thoughts into words, how to conjoin this strange feeling of blank disconnection with the rising wave of anger at anyone laying a finger on Ken.]

You don't have to say why this guy doesn't trust anyone, but that doesn't give him the right to touch you. This can't happen again, Ken. [He pauses, aware of how unsatisfying that answer is.]

Will you at least tell me this guy's name?

[Ken stays quiet, long enough that it almost seems like he's not going to answer at all without further pressing. But he eventually moves, even if he doesn't speak at first, and pulls the blanket he was using over to spread it over Jaime's lap. It's clumsy, but it's a feeble attempt to get him to focus on returning and recovering.]

... One of my housemates. Tetsuo-san.

You-- you should rest, Jaime-san. Nothing's gonna happen to me right now. I promise. But you're exhausted.

[Jaime shakes his head. Ken's sad attempt to put a blanket on his lap is sweet, but even if he wasn't confronted with Ken upon his return, he wouldn't be able to rest, not yet. He needs to talk to Wally, he thinks, and he needs to talk to Traci. He can't even think about sleeping until he's at least let them know that he's here... and that someone else isn't.

Perhaps he can save interrogating Ken more thoroughly for later, but his worries clearly haven't abated.]

It's okay, Ken. I've got things to do before I can rest anyway -- and I'm fine, really. [Tetsuo... Jaime doesn't know much about him beyond the fact that he's heard the guy yelling over the network, but in a community where shouting over the network is a national pastime, he hadn't inspected it thoroughly. He regrets that now.]

...that explains why you're here, anyway. You know you can stay here as long as you need to, right? You shouldn't... you shouldn't go back to a place where you're not safe.

FOR KEN

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repeating icons SHHHHH

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