maskormenacelogs | do we get what we deserve?

[ he's looking down at his hands, his mind racing a mile a minute. what was he doing? he was -- on an airship? on an airship. and he was hurt. recovering, thanks to supernatural interference, but still not running at one hundred percent and definitely not totally himself. because he'd been... out with damian, trying to save someone, and...

oh.

oh.

he... didn't even know damian could do that. wasn't he just a teleporter and, like, a sad silly fire magician? and also a were-raptor? ]

Was all that... real?

[ There it is. And of course Josh starts out with what is simultaneously the most natural question, and the hardest one to answer. He glances down at his own hands, which he suspects should be golden, but a man much handier with juggling new powers than Damian currently is figured out the psychosomatic side of that. ]

Tech... [ He pause to pause, swallow, try again. This level of calm and control, usually so effortless, is difficult today. ] Technically. I don't think it was ... us, though.

No, no, it -- it definitely wasn't.

[ he's no stranger to this alternate timeline, alternate universe bullshit. but. shit, shit, shit. ]

I... [ he clenches his too pale hands. feels the bite of his nails into them. ] Do... do you have them forever?

No.

[ He should go into all of it. He should lay out every relevant part of it for Josh, doesn't he owe him that much? God, the way he'd thought of him, as barely anything more than useful meat ... It wasn't technically this version of him that had done it, but that won't clear away the guilt.

He should tell him. He can trust him, if nothing else; that much is more than clear.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but instead: ] Are you alright? David and I woke up with -- with injuries.

[ Dying, David woke up dying. Injuries is easier. ]

No, no, I'm fine. Joe- [ pause, cringe. ] Kavinsky helped me out.

[ but he could still feel it. how close he was to an actual, permanent death. josh shudders. ]

[ Kavinsky. He's in this too, huh? Someone else Damian might have to look forward to hating and mistrusting him. He makes mental note, and his gaze again falls away. He leans in a little, elbows dropping to rest on his thighs. ]

I ... steal. I steal and copy powers. I've had David's power copied from the day I met him.

[ He rubs fingers over his forehead, but at least manages to school his expression into merely tired, not the rush of anxiety that he feels. He'd have preferred calm, but seeing as he is thoroughly exhausted after regenerating an eye, bringing David back from the brink of death, and all the rest, he'll take tired. ]

A theft only lasts for a month, but I can give it back sooner. And I will. [ His eyes flick up at Josh, and he looks disproportionately nervous. ] I can do it right now.

[ it's almost sad, he thinks, how much his self worth crashes without his powers. he doesn't know what to do at the idea of not having them. or -- who he is without them. ]

H-How?

[ He wets his lips, takes a breath, and reigns his expression in. His heart pounds at the thought of this, though — of sharing his most vulnerable secret, of actually carrying the promise out. He straightens again in his chair, and slowly and deliberately rolls up his left sleeve. His silver switchblade appears from a pocket, the same one a different Damian had plunged into David's chest. ]

Here — [ He gestures with the blade, indicating with its razor tip a length of arm from inner elbow to wrist. ] —To here. It's not a very precise science, but at some point before I fully bleed out, you'll have it back.

[ Just in time to heal him, with any luck, not that that feels like anything Damian deserves to be counting on. ]

What, no! Are you crazy?!

[ he's horrified, plain and simple. there's no way in hell he's letting damian slice himself open for that. the boy is a healer, through and through. ]

[ It's a relieving reaction. He couldn't in the slightest blame Josh for wanting his power back instantly, he well understands the sense of identity that's tied up in a powerset. But ... he really wasn't feeling up to it tonight. He lets out a slow breath. ]

It's ... fine. Both of my parents have done it before, multiple times. [ Which is to say, Damian himself has never tried it before. He cracks a half of an exhausted smile. ] But to be completely honest, I'd prefer to do it tomorrow morning.

Dude, if you think I'm going to let you bleed out like that just so I can get my powers back, you're nuts.

[ he wants them back, badly. but he's also -- he's not that kind of guy. as if it wasn't plainly obvious before. ]

[ Okay, so he didn't quite anticipate the extent of Josh's aversion to it. Damian blinks, having not at all prepared an argument for this. Somehow he never pictured himself having to argue in favor of slitting his wrists.

Maybe he'll skip the argument. He's really tired. Then, soon, he'll just go ahead and do it anyway. It isn't as if he needs permission.

After a thoughtful moment: ] You know, you can turn the coloration off.

[ well, good. he doesn't want to keep arguing that. at that, though, he blinks. and then laughs a little. ]

Ah, yeah... It never sticks for me.

[ Do you know, Josh Foley of the perpetual creepy white eyes. Damian looks faintly amused, but doesn't contest it. The amusement fades out again pretty quickly, though, as the dark memories that universe left him with are never very far off. ]

It might make your life easier. You know, to work on it. [ His heart isn't in it. He wilts a little where he sits. ] I'm ... I know this isn't technically necessary, but I'm really sorry, Josh.

Maybe, but... I like the way I look.

[ even if he doesn't currently look like that now. blonde hair, blue eyes, flawless skin - but without the blankness of his eyes or the shimmer of his skin, its easier to see how tired he is for someone barely into their twenties. ]

It's okay. [ he's forgiven worse people for less. ] It wasn't you, man.

[ Well, he can't argue that. Sometimes a man has a look. Speaking of, though, he studies the current Josh for a few long seconds, brows drawn together, before he finally gets up to resettle himself on the edge of the bed. ]

I think ... I think I want to be someone that actually deserves the kind of friendship you give.

[ Someone who would never, ever get around to doing what that other Damian had done. He shifts, like he'd kind of like to give Josh a hug, but — Saint Lorrants don't hug. He wouldn't even know where to start. ]

[ oh, damian.

damian shifts like he wants to give a hug and josh reaches the rest of the way, hauling him over into a hug.

being the victim of a betrayal like that sucks. he's been there. but in his personal experience, that's temporary? that's temporary. the memory gets hazy as your brain scrambles to cover it up. the harder thing is to have been the gun, worse when you never wanted to be, because those memories never leave. ]

Hey. This is a pretty good first step.

[ Oh. He goes with the haul, gone limp like he's not quite sure what's expected. But then, with a sigh, he lifts an arm to drape it over Josh's shoulders while his face presses to the shoulder it finds. As weird and unpracticed as this is, it's vastly preferred to the violent alternative, burned so deeply into his mind.

He stirs in just a second or two, to pull away again. ]

I'll let you get back to sleep.

[ he pulls back, letting damian get free of his grip. it's... odd. no, alarming, realizing that he can't sense anything about him. a sense of his has been totally cut off and it's...

awful. it's really awful.

but the alternative doesn't sit right with him. ]

I'm up anyway... I think I've got some phonecalls to make.

Suit yourself.

[ Damian, for one, is absolutely going back to bed. He stands to excuse himself, and sees himself out the same noisy way he'd seen himself in. He intends to go ahead with his plan to return Josh's power the next morning, as promised, but when he rolls up the shirt sleeve and readies the knife, the blade wavers. ... Well. Maybe he can put it off a little while.

He goes about his day uneasily for a number of reasons, but the heaviest of them is the matter of Josh. On the third day, it's intolerable. In the early afternoon he gathers everything he needs — which is really just resolve and his very sharp knife — and sends Josh a quick text: Upstairs bathroom.

Just that. He'll figure out the context when Damian gets started.

Very neatly, very surgically, Damian settles himself on the edge of the bathtub, rolls up his sleeve, and drags the blade of the knife down his arm. He goes pale immediately, too quickly for it to be blood loss, but clenches his fist as he watches the blood well, pool, and spill over. And in about three minutes, where ever he may be at the time, Josh will start to feel his power return. ]

[ he isn't comfortable going back to work when he can't fix everything with a touch, and after being gone for so long the hospital can't really blame him. he burns some vacation days early, treats himself to some taco bell and rediscovers the joys of slamming his foot into something and not immediately being able to heal it.

he realizes that he's pretty careless with his body. that, honestly, that's kind of concerning. even putting the healing factor aside.

his phone buzzes but he ignores it. three minutes into his afternoon yoga routine, he feels every bump and bruise fade and disappear. his head snaps up - and he doesn't need a phone message to tell him where damian is, he feels it.

he gets up so quickly he almost smashes face first into the wall, shoving off of it and bolting up the stairs, shoving the door open and taking stock of the sight.

his skin is stile pale. his subconscious hasn't righted itself yet, those blue eyes are wide and horrified. ]

Damian! [ then he's bolting across the bathroom, skidding on the tile until he can get his hands over the wounds to close them. ]

[ The most distressing part of all this, Damian has discovered, is how quickly the cut closes up, even without his stolen power activated to help things along. Things go too slowly sometimes, or the blood flow slowing to a trickle, and Damian has to carve again.

He's so, so ready for it when Josh bursts into the bathroom. He glances up, face pale as paper, relief plain across his features. ]

Did it go back to you? [Relief tinges with suspicion. Josh isn't golden. He could probably check for himself, feel around and see what he's still got, but his head is spinning. It's not spinning so much that he doesn't jerk his wrist away from Josh, though. ] Entirely? Don't make me have to do this twice.

I told you not to!

[ fuck. jesus - fuck. one hand lifting to run through his blonde hair - slowly growing lighter. it leaves a little red in its wake. ]

You - that was such a dumbass move! [ and then, once he's managed to compose himself a little ] Yeah, it's back!

[ Oh, thank god. Damian nods, and surrenders the wrist for healing. He's all too glad to set the knife aside too, folding it back into itself one-handed with an ease so practiced it takes barely any thought.

He doesn't really have any excuses to make, for the same reason he couldn't really make any arguments for it. He'd simply decided to go through with it, and there wasn't much more to say on the matter. So he doesn't. He just closes his eyes and waits for the pain to fade. ]

[ he's angry. but more than that, its plain to see that he's scared. he grabs damian's wrist again to heal it, jaw set and eyes narrowed. the blue of them looks just a little paler.

its a moment before he speaks. ]

What the hell were you going to do if the wrong side of it came back first?

do we get what we deserve?

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cw suicide reference

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