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WHO: Derek Hale, Vanya Hargreeves
WHERE: Aegis
WHEN: Backdated to Oct 3
WHAT: Checking in and making sure she's okay
WARNINGS: CW for possible mentions of death, murder, torture, mass destruction & explosions.

From the time Diego mentioned that Vanya had her powers dampened, Derek had been concerned. He doesn't know what it's like at Aegis, he just knows what Diego shared and, in Derek's experience, having one's powers dampened is a really, really painful, tortuous process and he doesn't want that for Vanya. She reminds him a little too much of himself when he'd been younger and she doesn't sound to him like she wants to hurt anybody. She just wants to exist without all the turmoil that comes with her abilities and her struggle to control them.

If they're electrocuting her to keep her from hurting anyone, they're not helping matters, Derek knows that much.

Yesterday, he hadn't been able to call clients soon enough to get out of work, but he called the ones for today to make sure they knew he wasn't going to be able to make it to the training sessions and that he'd be happy to reschedule later in the week if they needed to. Today, he's not going to work. Today, he's headed to Maurtia Falls.

It's not as bad in reality as it had been in his imagination, at least. He'll give Aegis that much.

He's not even sure Vanya's going to want to see him at all, but if she doesn't, that isn't going to change him wanting to see for himself that she's okay, so he hadn't really seen the point in asking ahead of time.
Therefore...she doesn't know he's coming.

This place smells like misery, he finds himself thinking, which...well. Of course it does. No one wants to be locked up.

Derek, to his credit, looks appropriately apologetic when she's looking at him. She looks physically okay, just like Diego said, and Derek doesn't think she would if they were hurting her to keep her powers at bay. He'll still ask later, but for now, his concerns are somewhat assuaged.

"...hey."

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The place smells like misery, but Vanya probable reeks of it. There's nothing like he feared, here - no torture, no electrocution, just a new accessory that, somehow, does everything Dad's medication did without the side effects. Maybe that should be some kind of comfort, but it just - infuriates her.

There was technology like this out in the world, and instead - instead he pull a bottle of pills in the hands of a four year old and made her think that she needed them just to survive in the world.

But maybe he was right, because whenever she's without them, terrible things happen.

She's curled up in the corner of her cell, on her bed, head leaning listlessly against the wall. V isn't sure what is hers to feel and what's because of Diego, but she's exhausted and hasn't slept much since the explosion. When she sees Derek, there's no reaction for a moment, like she needs a few seconds to convince herself he's real. And when he speaks, she straightens abruptly, then freezes, wondering what he's doing here.

She looks like a deer in headlights, and it takes a moment before her throat remembers how to make words.

"Hi?" It comes out like a question, startled and unsure. "Are you - you came to see me?"

Honestly, Derek can't decide whether it hurts his feelings or his heart more to see how uncertain she is, like she can't quite believe she's actually seeing him there. Like she can't fathom why he might be here to see her. "...yeah," he says, sounding surprised that she doesn't just inherently know that upon catching sight of him.

She looks so much smaller than normal, which is saying plenty because Vanya's already very small, when she's curled in the corner of the cell like that. Derek clears his throat and moves closer, lowering himself to sit on the floor in front of her cell, because why just stand there when he plans to stay a little while, if she'll have him?

"Of course I came to see you. Why the hell else would I be here?" he laughs a little, but it's insincere and nervous at best. "You're my friend. I wanted to make sure you were okay." He pauses, frowning. "...are you?"

She watches him sit, still off kilter. It's the you're my friend that really grabs at her. Vanya doesn't have a lot of nervous habits, for all that it looks like she should: she doesn't chew her nails or her lip or her hair. But she does roll the white sleeves of her shirt down over her hands, clutching the cuffs in her palms like she's cold. Stiffly, uncertainly, she stands up from the bed and makes her way to the bars, sitting across from him.

It feels like worlds more than she deserves. Maybe that's why she tries to be honest; it's not too difficult to swallow the snark.

"No." She settles her hands in her lap, fingers worrying at the fabric in her hands. "I just...do you--" Her mouth runs dry, and she has to pause before continuing. "Do you know what happened?"

The fact that she gets up and moves to sit in front of him on the other side of the barrier between them is promising. Maybe she's not as mad at him as he'd originally thought. She isn't shouting at him to get out or go away; she isn't subtly suggesting he leave her alone. She's come closer rather than closing herself off at the distance where she started. That can't be a bad thing.

Her answer only surprises him in its level of stark, raw honesty and Derek's head dips a little as he frowns before looking back at her sympathetically. "Yeah," he replies simply. She isn't going to like what he has to say next, but in the interest of continuing their honest communication here, he explains. "I heard some rumors and since I figured you were mad at me, I asked Diego what happened. I'd have asked you, but I didn't think you'd answer me. He was pretty vague but I kind of put two and two together and then he confirmed it when I asked."

Derek sighs softly, his eyes shifting down from her face to watch her fingers fiddling absently with her shirt sleeves. "I figured maybe you wouldn't want to be alone if you didn't have to be after all that. It's a lot to process." He wonders if she knows just how much damage she apparently did. Derek hasn't gone back to Nonah to look. Diego placed the damage at a 12 on a 1-10 scale, so he's guessing it's not good.

Her reaction isn't the same as the day she called to invite him to the party: she doesn't look angry that he reached out to Diego. Some of the aching frustration stirs in her - Vanya isn't sure she'll ever by able to look at that without some bitterness. Other families probably don't get angry when their siblings share friends; it probably brings other families together. She should let that happen, shouldn't she?

Except she told Diego she wanted nothing to do with him, and then she almost sent him flying the way she'd done to Klaus. If anything, Vanya just looks guilty.

Unintentionally, her eyes find the same thing he's looking at, though she seems to stare at her hands without really seeing them. Still worrying at the hems, picking at stray threads, she speaks quietly, in a flat voice. "I wouldn't have answered. But not - I don't know. Because I'm here, I mean." She has the access, but there was no way she'd have been able to pull herself together enough to answer.

"I should've left with you when you suggested it."

Derek looks back up at her when she responds and confirms his assumption. She wouldn't have answered him, so if he wanted information, he went to the right sibling. He clears his throat when she says she should've left with him for some air when he'd brought it up and he shrugs and shakes his head. "Hindsight is 20/20," he says simply.

He pauses for a long moment, not because he's looking for the words, but because he's listening carefully to their surroundings to see how far away the nearest person is. He wants to know that if he asks her this, she'll be safe to answer honestly and no one will overhear to retaliate on her after he leaves.

"Diego said they dampened your power," he says in a low voice, shifting to lean a little closer to the bars so that she'll still hear him. "How are they doing it? You can whisper; I'll hear it clear as day."

His jaw is working, teeth clenching in anticipation of bad news and hoping he gets good news instead. Some part of him isn't even sure he'll believe her if he doesn't feel a lack of physical pain himself, but that's asking a lot of Vanya, to reach out and let him take her arm or her hand and try to siphon out what hopefully isn't actually there to begin with, so he'll have to settle with taking her word for it. "You can tell me. I just...know how they do it back home. If they're doing it the same way, I... I can help you with that, so it's not so bad."

Edited 2019-10-10 18:37 (UTC)

Vanya assumed from the start - at least, from the moment logic thought started to return to her - that she was being monitored in here. She still assumes it, though she hasn't found cameras, doesn't even really know what to look for. For all she knows, there's some import here with the ability to just look through walls. It doesn't particularly matter: she's not leaving any time soon, probably.

Her eyes - which, without direct engagement tend to drift away from a subject, to stare at something cold and inanimate, something incapable of judgement - shift upwards when he starts speaking again. She sees the way his jaw works and doesn't fully understand; is he angry? Is he angry at her? No, he doesn't look angry, but he does look....unsure. Worried? God, she's not good at this, at reading people. They always seemed inexplicably fuzzy, before - which she assumes, now, was because of the medication. Now there's a sharper clarity, but she doesn't know how to read people.

Maybe if she had, she'd have seen through Leonard from the start.

For a long moment she just stares at him, confused. How can he help her? Is he a therapist now, is he going to talk her through what an absolute psychological nightmare this has been, trying to wrap her head around being as powerless as she thought she was all her life? Will he help her understand why she was hallucinating her younger selves at the party? No, because she hasn't told anyone about that, doesn't thinks he could even bring herself to do it.

Finally reaching up, Vanya shifts the collar of her shirt, pulling it to the side so he can see the metal collar around her neck. Not too bulky, not too tight, but definitely something she can't slip out of.

"I don't know how it works," she finally says. "It just...does." There's a note of something in her voice, not quite bitterness, not quite frustration, with elements of both. She doesn't know how to feel about this, except that she doesn't like it, and feels she has no right to that feeling.

For what seems like forever, Vanya just looks back at him like she can't figure out what he's asking or maybe she can and she can't wrap her head around the fact that he'd think to ask. But then she's showing him a metal collar around her neck and Derek stiffens. His jaw clenches. He flinches at the thing.

Just because hunters favored old fashioned wires to electrodes didn't mean the people here did. The idea that it's possible they're treating her the way Kate and other hunters had treated him feels like someone punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him completely for a second.

His eyes move up from the collar back to Vanya's face. He wants to ask what it does, but framing it that way is probably going to get a blank stare because she's just said that she doesn't know how it works.

"Does it hurt you?" he finally asks after a long moment. "Does it shock you?" he clarifies, his voice still low, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with another thick swallow. It's one thing to be on the receiving end of being electrocuted to keep his abilities at bay, weakening him until he's not even a threat in human form. It's entirely another to imagine someone he cares about enduring it, especially someone as small as Vanya. Whether or not she's actually as fragile as she looks, she looks fragile.

She still doesn't understand, not until he asks. Even then, it takes a moment after he clarifies, and she wonders, in that space before it clicks, if she looks so bad that he thinks they're actually electrocuting her. Vanya reaches up, touching her hair and wondering wildly if it's frizzing badly or something. Why else would he make that assumption?

Logic catches up, and she drops her hand back to her lap, feeling a little foolish for the thought.

"Oh - no." Shaking her head, V tucks some hair behind her ear, then resumes picking at the cuffs of her sleeve. "It just. Just sits here." Like a noose. That feels wrong to think, but she's not sure why; maybe the comparison doesn't work, maybe she's been dramatic. She's probably being dramatic. At least it's only in her head.

She opens her mouth to ask a question, but hesitates for a second, sitting there a little like a fish on dry land. Finally, she remembers how to make words. "Do you - is that how they depower you? Electrocuting you?"

He's quiet as he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction, whether she's trying to silently communicate something or if she just honestly isn't on the same page with him. It doesn't occur to him that she might think he means that she looks like she's being electrocuted and he feels a flash of guilt when she reaches up to touch her hair, because it's the only reason that he can think that would prompt that response.

Hearing her say that it doesn't shock her, Derek stays quiet for a moment, shifting his focus to listen to her heartbeat. It doesn't tick up. It doesn't hiccup. It doesn't change at all. She's not lying. Relief washes over him and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd started holding. "Good," he says softly, nodding. "Good." They'd be sorry if they were. Not just because he'd make sure heads rolled for it but because he imagines letting Allison or Diego know that they thought Vanya was safely contained when she'd actually been being tortured would mean a hell of a lot of bad news for the people behind it.

Derek realizes he's let his mind wander a little when he gets snapped out of it by the sound of her voice and he looks up at the question. A short pause precedes a subtle nod of his head. Then, he looks away from her because he doesn't want to look anyone in the eye when he says it out loud. It's weak, acknowledging that a werewolf had been bested by humans not once, not twice, but several times. "Back home, yeah. That's how you dampen a werewolf's powers. Unless you want to kill them, in which case there are faster ways." He clears his throat and then finally forces his eyes back up. "I just wanted to make sure they weren't doing that to you. I could've taken some of that pain if they were. It's called pain transference. I take it into myself and it fades faster."

She's silent for a long moment - mostly trying to digest the idea that he's probably been electrocuted before. Who would do that? Why? Derek has shared some of his baggage, and he's acted like he's got a past - but he'd been nothing but nice to her.

Which makes her feel a surge of guilt over trying to push him away at the party, hanging up on him on the phone. She shouldn't be jealous just because he befriended her brother. It sounds stupid in her head. She knows it's stupid. But there is a part of her that just wants something - someone - for herself.

And it's not like she has no one, now, which is still hard to get used to. That is, if Murphy and Damian don't hate her for what happened. She hasn't had the wherewithal to reach out to them. Now she's too afraid to.

The rest finally sinks in, and Vanya shakes herself quietly, coming back to the present. "You - wanted to take my pain?" She sounds a little doubtful, and a little confused: never in her life would she expect an offer like that out of anyone.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him before he can stop it, mostly because he's surprised that that's the bit she latched onto. He probably shouldn't be, but all the same. "That's your takeaway?" he asks with a small smile that falls a little short. "And you've clearly never been electrocuted or you'd know why I wouldn't want to know a friend is suffering the residuals of that if I could help."

Derek doesn't know a ton about her because while Vanya shares more than his other friends, she still keeps a lot close to the chest and he suspects she will for a long time, if not forever. That's fine; maybe it's just a Hargreeves thing or maybe she just wants to make sure it's safe to trust him before she starts to share extra stuff.

Most importantly, he doesn't understand why she would think it's weird that he would want to take on a friend's pain to help lessen their suffering. Or maybe she just doesn't understand why she would think it's weird that he would want to do it for her.

"You wouldn't do that for a friend if you could?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

She opens her mouth, closes it again. There's no good answer here. If she says no, it sounds too selfish, and she'd stumble all over herself trying to fix it. Yes would be a lie, or at least close enough to one. She doesn't want to lie to him. So she shrugs, shoulders lifting right up toward her ears. The gesture looks almost helpless.

"I - I don't--"

God, fine. Just admit it.

"I've never really....had friends. I don't know."

To her response, Derek gives Vanya a small, sad smile that falls short of his eyes. It's been such a long time since he's had anyone that he considers a friend that he thinks might also consider him a friend — not an asset; a friend — that he almost feels like the same is true for him. If he's honest, though, it's not. He did used to have plenty of friends before the fire. Before his entire world shattered and changed in the worst way.

"Fair enough," he replies with a nod. "I feel like you would. I haven't done it a lot. Just for my sister." He pauses. "...and for one other person. A really long time ago." Paige. Before she begged him to just give up and make her suffering stop.

"You know...I'm sorry if I upset you before," Derek replies. "It's been a long time since I've had friends and I'm not very good at it, yet, so..." His voice trails off and he looks appropriately apologetic.

"It's not your fault."

The words come out like a croak, tight and embarrassed, but at least she manages to vocalize instead of gaping like a fish. "I'm - I don't know." Crazy is what she thinks she should say. Right now she's just grateful there are no duplicated voices in her head, no younger Vanyas in the corners of her eyes. Maybe it was just stress. That's nicer to think.

"I wasn't - fair. And it's stupid, and you didn't do anything. I was just - mostly mad at Diego."

Mostly, but not entirely. There's guilt in her voice now, but still plenty of annoyance. His conversation with her late last night - early this morning? - did not leave off on a positive note. Then again, she can't remember the last time talking with him did. He knows how to dig at her, and even wen he tries--

Well. Maybe she just returns the favor.

Derek's brow creases, briefly confused before she elaborates and all but confirms his suspicion that her upset with him had something to do with Diego. He's not going to ask for any further validation of the theory that she's upset he's friends with Diego, because he doesn't want to throw fuel on the fire if it's still a sore subject. It does make him wonder whether she'd be pissed off to find out he also unwittingly befriended Allison. ...befriended might be a strong word for it, but all the same.

"Did you guys work it out?" he asks, curious. "We don't have to talk about it if you'd rather not, but..." He shrugs. He's curious, that gesture says, especially when coupled with his expression.

He wants so badly to ask her what happened back there, because Diego didn't really tell him. All Diego did was confirm that it had been Vanya when Derek asked on a hunch. He doesn't know what happened and he doesn't know why, he just knows something did. Still, asking her what happened seems really callous and he's trying to mend the bridge, not burn it.

Vanya huffs out a breath, not really a laugh but still almost derisive. It's not directed at him, just the subject as a whole.

"I don't know if we can."

The words come out flatly, unimpressed, and whether it's aimed at herself or at Diego, not evens he's certain. The truth is ugly, and she can't run from it forever.

Besides, if she doesn't tell Derek, Diego will. And she wants to at least wrap her hands around her own narrative.

(Isn't that what got you in trouble in the first place, she thinks, and tries hard to shove that thought away. It never goes far.)

"I wrote this - this book, a few years ago. All about our family. I put a lot of things the public didn't know in, things about all of them. I don't think he'll ever forgive me for it." That is, really, the very barest of the iceberg between them.

That sound, derisive and cold, sounds weird coming from Vanya but maybe that's because they have been building a relationship based on quiet discussion and commiseration. Her certainty, or maybe it's resignation, that she and her brother won't be able to work out their differences sort of breaks Derek's heart. His relationship with his siblings was so different and he wonders if he'll ever be able to understand.

But he's quiet to see if she'll elaborate and, after a moment, she does. "This might sound really stupid, but...have you asked him to? Forgive you, I mean?" he asks. It just seems to Derek that she'll be right if she never asks him to try to find it in his heart to forgive her. Most people don't just offer it out. Then again, he doesn't know what's in the book and Derek can think of some people he would never forgive for their injustices.

Derek shifts his position a little into something he hopes is more comfortable because this floor certainly isn't. He leans his side against the bars and tilts his head so that he can still look at her. "You know, it's kind of nice not being the one on that side of the bars for a change," he says, only half-joking. Maybe he's kind of trying to make her feel better. Maybe he's trying to commiserate.

She shrugs one shoulder, shifting to pull one leg up, wrapping her arms loosely around it. It's defensive, though it's more mental than physical: she's protecting herself against his judgement, and she's afraid of it coming. Vanya bites the inside of her cheek to keep from saying it, but the words find their way out anyway.

"I don't know if I want to."

She stares at some point on the floor, beyond the bars, beyond him. It's easier to look at cold tile than to see whatever is moving through his eyes.

"Since we were kids, they were famous. The Umbrella Academy. And I was just the sister no one knew about. They barely noticed me."

V grits her teeth, abruptly wary of wandering down that petty road. It's easy, God it's so easy to be angry about that. She reaches up, fingers trailing over the collar around her neck, pressing inside to scratch at her skin. "At least for a couple months, the world noticed me."

It's hard for Derek to imagine a scenario in which he wouldn't want to at least try to ask for forgiveness if in her shoes, but then Derek doesn't know everything. He knows what she and Diego tell him and he knows both of them well enough to know that neither is telling him everything. Why should they? He's not asking and he only wants to know if they want to share. But having that blindness means sometimes he asks stupid questions or says unintentionally insensitive things.

Derek feels less like he's judging her and more like he wishes he hadn't asked, because this is clearly a sore subject and he'd come here to make sure no one else was hurting his friend. Now he's hurting his friend.

For a long moment, he says nothing, not because he's thinking or analyzing, but because he's not really sure what to say. He can't relate to that feeling because at worst, he'd been excluded from girly things he didn't care about when he'd been a kid. There's a big difference between not being invited to play Barbies and being on the peripheral all of the time.

"Do you still want the world to notice you or is that just how you felt back home?"

He's silent for long enough (though with Vanya, any amount of time waiting for judgement is still too long) that she starts looking for ways to make it better. Just kidding wouldn't be believable, that's off the table, God she shouldn't have said it at all. He's nice and he asks questions sometimes, but he doesn't really know what it was like. He loved his family.

Vanya doesn't know if she loves hers. Maybe she does - maybe that's why it's so hard to let them go, hurts so much to have them around. She glances toward the exit, wondering if Allison went to get food or if she's waiting just outside. She's half tempted to call her back, send a desperate text and let her sister help her figure this out.

Her gut turns at the thought, though, and she knows she won't.

"I didn't want to be noticed for this." She gestures vaguely at the cell, at Aegis itself. She sounds miserable. The truth is, she has no idea what she wants. When Abigail mentioned her record deal, back during the issue with the kryptonite, Vanya felt that twinge of jealousy. Does that mean she wants that? She has no idea, but mostly she wants to play violin and not be afraid of herself.

Derek shakes his head; offers her a smile that falls short of his eyes. "That's not what I asked, Vanya," he reminds her. He doesn't need to know what she wanted attention for back then or what she might want it for now, if she wants it, and he doesn't even want to know unless she feels inclined to tell him. The important part of that clarification is that he just wants to know the yes or no of it.

Shifting his position again, Derek moves closer to the bars unintentionally, but he stays there all the same, leaning against them a little more heavily. "I noticed you," he points out a moment later. "And not for this. Or your power."

He had. Admittedly, if she didn't have the ability and she wasn't so afraid of herself, she probably wouldn't have messaged him with the sort of conversation they had had which had been the thing to draw him in. But then he got to know her a little. But then he had coffee with her and he went on walks with her. He likes spending time with Vanya and up until the phone call wherein she invited him to her birthday party, he thought that she'd liked spending time with him, too. Wasn't that what friendship was all about? Having fun spending time with the other person and knowing that you could talk to them about the sorts of things that you maybe didn't have it in you to talk about with just anybody, and knowing that they wouldn't judge you for those things? If that's what friendship is, then she's the best friend he's ever had who didn't share his last name.

She wishes for a moment that their powers were reversed and that she could have his senses. Any well-adapted person would see this as perfectly reasonable, straightforward. Vanya is terrified that he's just hiding his judgement to be kind. If she shares more, will he judge her harder? If she stops, will he ever come back? Is this all he wants, to know more about her, use it against--

She runs a hand over her face, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeves still pulled over her hands. He's not Leonard. Right? He's not. If anything - she's pretty sure Diego would have hated Leonard on site, he probably did, and if he's friends with Derek then...it's such a reach that she can't honestly finish the thought.

For a moment she's silent, and after that moment passes, she shifts a little so she can lean against the bars too, facing him. He did notice her. Maybe it was because the anxiety and the fear was rolling off her, but he still noticed her - because what is she, if not a human shaped ball of anxiety?

"Yes? I think. I don't know how to explain. It's - it's not like I want to be a movie star, or anything." God, living Allison's life would probably make her hyperventilate to death. "I just - I want to know that - that people know I exist."

Derek takes a deep breath and considers that for a moment. "Now, that's something I can actually relate to," he mutters softly. "Just not...for the reasons that most people know I exist, back home."

Most people back home see him at the grocery store and they can't put their finger on what it is about him that makes them uncomfortable. He imagines they're subconsciously remembering the times when they'd seen his mugshot on the news or in the papers when he'd gotten arrested for murdering his sister. Because losing her and, worse, finding her body wasn't enough, he was thrown into jail for it and couldn't even mourn her properly. Just to put the cherry on top of it, he was awarded the prize of being the town's pariah. He probably had been that since the fire, given the fire had probably been decently big news, too.

"The problem with wanting people to know you exist is that you have to talk to them. You have to let them get to know you and you have to be willing to get to know them, too. That's the hard part," he replies, looking her in the eye and offering her a sympathetic smile. "I know that coming from me probably sounds pretty rich, but that's because you're getting to know me after I've had the better part of a decade to try to drag myself out of the shell again and the past few years, I was working really hard on it." He pauses. "It's easier for me because it's just me. It'll be harder for you because people from home are here, too, so you can't just...I don't know, reinvent yourself and start all over. That's nobody's fault. But you know, Vanya..."

His voice trails off and he shrugs a little. "I don't think you realize how nice it is to hang around you. You're a good listener and you're smart. It's fun to talk to you. It's fun to walk with you. It's less fun when we get all morbid, but how many people can you have those sorts of conversations with without having to worry whether they're going to go home and pray to God that you lose their number? You know? You gotta give yourself more credit. People will notice you if you let them notice you."

He makes it sound so simple. Like talking to people is easy. Like opening up to them is something you can just...do.

Then again, she's opened up to him a lot more than other people, hasn't she? Vanya chews the inside of her cheek, listening and flattered and confused. He must see something in her that doesn't exist, or somehow she's made herself just - appear like she knows what the fuck she's doing.

But she doesn't think he's that dumb. He doesn't seem it, and she really doesn't believe she can fake it.

"You sure you don't want to lose my number?" It's a little bit of a joke; she tries to smile, though it doesn't exist very long on her face. Part of her still expects the worst answer to that question.

In spite of himself, Derek huffs a soft laugh at her question, shaking his head.

"If I wanted to, I would've by now," he points out. And yet, here he is, in spite of the fact that he'd been afraid she'd be upset that he had come. In spite of the fact that the last time they'd had a positive interaction had been over a week ago. "Besides, who would I window shop with if I lost your number?" he adds with a little smirk.

Nobody, that's who, because he wouldn't ever think to do it. He's secretly and unwittingly sort of filed window shopping and cafe lunches into the Vanya folder in his mind and he isn't likely to bother doing those things with other people unless invited by the other party. Those are things he does with her. He drinks with Diego, he spars with Allison, he runs with David, he argues with Stiles, and he window shops and has coffee with Vanya. That's just how things are.

"Would it be okay with you if I came to visit more while you're here?" he asks, keeping to himself that it's a little lonelier out in the real world without her than he'd like to admit. They talked and hung out a lot more than he'd realized until she'd sort of cut him off and then this had happened. He's noticed over the past few days just how much free time he used to spend with her because he's pointedly aware of the fact that he hasn't been able to do that lately.

All she has to do is believe him. It's not so hard: she spent her life taking people at their word, after all. Just because Leonard - she doesn't want to let what he did affect what she'll do. It should be as simple as that, but it isn't. It takes her a moment, silently considering his face, taking in his expression. He looks honest, looks like he cares. Why else would he be here? And just because Leonard looked interested doesn't mean anything, here. It's not like there's any secret for Derek to find out, any journal to use against her.

"Yeah."

It comes out more easily than she thought it might, and she nods. "Yeah, that - I think that'd be....nice?" Irony makes its way into her voice, and she manages to roll her eyes a little, somehow managing to indicate the fact that however nice it may be, she's in a cell (and does she really have a right to anything nice--).

He laughs a little at the way she sort of asks rather than states that it would be nice to have the visitor. The irony of the word in the situation isn't lost on him, either, so he appreciates the sliver of humor found in it.

"Okay, then I will," he promises sincerely, a warm smile on his face. It would've been nice if he'd had anyone to visit him when he'd been in jail, back home, so if Vanya wants the company, then Derek's going to offer it.

Derek pauses for a long while, looking not necessarily at her but sort of past her, lost in that thought for a moment. Vanya doesn't seem to grasp why anyone might care enough about her to visit, but they're here. He can't imagine her siblings not at least showing up once. He's here. He's probably not her only friend. The real irony here is that someone like Vanya who is so certain that she's alone actually does have people around her, meanwhile when he'd been the one on that side of the bars, he really had been alone in spite of having had such a huge support system only a few years prior. It's funny how many things change so quickly when one isn't really paying enough attention.

"Do you know how long they're going to keep you, or no?" he asks, looking back at her again.

The silence settles, and while he isn't quite looking at her, she watches his face. He's thinking, she has no idea about what, and she wants to ask. But the paranoid voice that's never far from her mind whispers not to, because he might be thinking about some place he'd rather be.

It doesn't seem likely, especially now, but that kind of worry is never really logical.

When he focuses on her again, Vanya blinks and looks away quickly before meeting his eyes again, like it's suddenly paramount to pretend she wasn't staring at him. The question, at least, is easy to answer: she shakes her head.

"No. I haven't really asked." Afraid to, is more like it: what if this is going to be for a long time? Worse, what if it's not and she has to go back out into the world that she could have wrecked?

"I'd offer," Derek says, looking apologetic, "but I imagine they're not going to tell me. Hopefully not for very long," he finishes with a little shrug. He, on the other hand, is more eager for her to get out so that they can resume their growing friendship and he doesn't have to come to this godawful place and be consumed by the scents of despair around him to see her. He much prefers the coffee dates and window shopping walks, if he's honest.

His eyes move back to look at her. "They're treating you okay, though? Beyond the part where you're stuck here, I mean, obviously," he asks with a clarification tacked on the end. As long as she's not miserable in here, it wouldn't be as devastating if she was forced to stay for a long while and he'll manage. He always does. It's not as overwhelming for him as it probably is for Diego if Diego is showing up. Derek just smells it all. He doesn't have to feel any of it.

Vanya just nods silently, at first, still stuck on the idea that he wants to come see her. It's new, and it's nice, and she likes the idea of it enough that she wants to really convince herself that's all it is.

A second later, she sticks her hand through the bars - not reaching for him, but offering. She's let go of the edges of her sleeve, so just her pale but calloused fingers are sticking out. She shrugs, abruptly awkward when she tries to explain it.

"If you, I don't know...want proof? Does it work that way?"

For a second, Derek's not really sure what Vanya's going for when he sees her stick her hand out through the bars beside him and it shows on his face. His brow creases slightly before lifting in question.

Her explanation makes him smile and duck his head a little. All the same, he takes her hand in his own and nothing really happens.

"It works that way if you're in physical pain," he explains, looking back up at her. He hasn't let go of her hand just yet. "Pinch yourself. Hard. You'll only feel it for a second before I take it; I'll show you. Do it hard enough somewhere that it'll hurt."

He might as well show her, in case there ever comes a time when she actually needs him to do it, then she can trust that the ability is actually there and it won't be a scary sort of surprise when she sees it in action. Derek hopes that never happens, but one never knows.

She hesitates and wonders, why not? Vanya's not afraid of pain, and especially not the kind she can inflict on herself. What's a pinch compared to the exhausting mental gymnastics she does every minute of every day?

Instead of pinching herself, she digs the nails of her free hand into her palm, pressing hard. She's used that sting for too long, a way to bring her out of her own head, a reminder to stop thinking so unnecessarily hard.

She can feel her nails carving crescents into her skin, and the ache shoots up her arm. Still, she just watches him, eyes shifting between her hand in his, and Derek's face.

A few seconds after Vanya's pain registers for her, it registers for Derek and he flinches reflexively as his veins, starting in his hand and creeping up his arm, shoulder, and into his chest under his shirt, turn an inky black to draw her discomfort out of her and into himself.

His eyes are on Vanya's face as she looks between his face and their hands and he turns their hands over so that the top part of his hand with the blackened veins is showing on top and her hand is facing the floor.

"Watch my hand and stop whatever you're doing," he says quietly. Once she stops and her pain is no longer there to take, she'll notice the color fading back out of his veins starting at the top of his arm and making its way back down again until his veins are their normal color, barely visible beneath his skin and body hair.

The pain fades almost immediately, and she digs her nails harder into her palms, confused. That changes nothing, and when he reveals the veins on the back of his hand, Vanya's eyes widen. She doesn't try to pull away, though - frozen as she usually is by indecision. Should she pull away to make it stop? Would he be insulted or upset if she did that? Not deciding is easier, and when he gives her instruction Vanya lets her gaze flicker up to his face before dropping to their hands again.

She eases up, straighening her hand and pressing her palm against her leg. She expects it to string, but it doesn't. It's all gone, just like the black in his veins.

"Does it..." She trails off, because asking him if it hurts is just too stupid to swallow. "Are you okay?"

His jaw clenches for a second in response to her attempt to force herself to feel the pain he's dragging out of her. He watches her reaction, curious whether it's closer to amazed or horrified on the spectrum of typical responses to what he can do.

Then she stops and the black fades away again, like it always does, and Derek smiles a little, nodding. "Yes," he says, "to both." She might have cut herself off from finishing the "does it hurt?" question, but she wouldn't be the first to ask it and she probably wouldn't be the last if she had, so he can fill in the blank.

Derek takes a deep breath and shrugs. "But it heals, so once I pull it out of another person, it hits me and then it kind of fades. Most of the time. It kind of depends on how deep the pain is for the original sufferer, I guess." Vanya's fingernails caused a small, acute pain. The kind of pain that someone suffering of chronic pain or something would be dealing with or someone who is practically dying, maybe, like Cora had been, could kill him if he wasn't careful. That seems more nuanced a discussion than he needs to be having about it in public like this. Maybe if she wants to ask more questions, they can do that via text or in person at one of their apartments when she gets out or something.

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