(no subject)

[unguibusetrostro]

WHO: Ronan Lynch, R.C. Gansey III, Adam Parrish, Daryl Dixon, Matthew Lynch
WHERE: De Chima police station; middle of nowhere De Chima
WHEN: Saturday morning
WHAT: Ronan arrives. Causes a scene. Dad picks him up. It's all good.
WARNINGS: Language, probably

Comments

Daryl | jail cell

[unguibusetrostro]

[Sitting here, Ronan regrets nothing. There's something satisfying about being here, or maybe something comforting in the routine of it. This is a weird place, this isn't home, but at least if you start a fight in the street the cops still arrest you.

It's an odd thing to be comforted by, but needs must. In any case, being comforted doesn't make Ronan tolerable or amenable to this particular brand of being stuck here. He is curled against a wall, wondering if his future involves rotting in this place.

He looks over at the dude he fought with. It wasn't an easy fight and they got pulled apart before either of them could really destroy the other, and the evidence of it is on both of them. Ronan, however, is most pleased that the fist fight remained somewhat equal in terms of footing. He saw how much weaponry the cops pulled off this guy. This isn't some teenage amateur.

He takes a moment.

Considers his options.]

How's the redneck thing working for you?

[No one ever said this kid was polite.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Nope. Daryl was no teenage amateur. He was in his 40s and used to holding his own, regardless of who was trying their best to beat him down. And anymore, with the world the way it was, he only ever used his fists if he didn't intend to kill a person. He may have been carrying a half a dozen knives hidden on him and the crossbow, but he'd had no intention of pulling one on the asshole that threw the first punch. Attempting to beat the shit out of him had been good enough.

Guy was a lot better with his own shots than Daryl had given him credit for, though. He could tell that now, after the rush of adrenaline had left him feeling weary and drained. Face still a little bloodied from sluggish cuts even after letting the cops wash his face off for the Mug Shot. Man knew how to throw his punches.

And hell, he had a Mug Shot. Never spent a day of his life in jail before the turn and here he was going on 3 years later and he finally got himself a record stared up. All for defending himself.]

Jus' fine.

[Daryl answered, making sure to really honey up his southern drawl and make it as thick as molasses. He wasn't ashamed of what he was and had heard that insult too many times to count as it was.]

How's the punk-ass-kid-with-a-death-wish thing working for you?

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[The accent reminded Ronan of where he came from; not exactly, because the Henrietta that stamps Blue and Adam's voices is more Appalachian than southern, but it's still strange and familiar, and it actually eases Ronan a bit too. He just sounds like a local boy, as if Ronan isn't one.

He just gestures around them, as if to say well, we're both here.]

You could have stopped that fight anytime you wanted.

[He had weapons, Ronan didn't.]

[dirtyredneck]

[He could have stopped the fight? What, did the kid expect him to just give up and say uncle or-

Or wait. Did he mean by pulling a knife?

Daryl looked over at Ronan like the kid was maybe just a little unhinged. Because either of the options sounded stupid to him.]

What are you talking about?

[unguibusetrostro]

[He evened his gaze. There was nothing judgmental about this, there was nothing unhinged in the way he looked at Daryl, but there was something appraising. Here was a guy who had the ability to stop a fight with a knife but didn't. That was saying something.]

They're going to be filling out paperwork on your armory for the next year.

[Those were a lot of weapons.]

[dirtyredneck]

[So it was the knives. Daryl eyed Ronan for another long second before snorting and dropping his eyes. He started to drag the nail of one thumb under the nails of his other hand, cleaning them out as best he could. Give himself something to do, something to look at other than his cellmate.]

Wasn't gonna kill you, kid.

[He said after another long moment, voice gone just a little softer, more quiet. Because his knives were for killing. Or gutting. For promises, not threats. Couldn't really blame Ronan for the assumption, though.]

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Isn't that a relief.

[He says it with a snarl, but it's not precisely sarcasm, either. Ronan doesn't do soft very well, but anyone fluent in his mannerisms would notice that the venom isn't riding high.

Ronan kicks out with his boot. He's not going to apologize. He's not built for apologies to random people he fights with, and he's not going to lie - he's not sorry he got into that fight in the first place.]

Gansey | jail

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[Chainsaw was not allowed in the jail, and she's outside the building, perched on an eave and cawing like crazy. In fact, she's drawing a bit of a crowd, and she spots Gansey and crows kerah! as if to indicate, Ronan is in there, they took him, hurry up, grandpa!!

And she flies down and lands on Gansey's shoulder, because he's familiar and comfortable.

Ronan, meanwhile, is inside, and when Gansey goes in they provide him with papers for the release and sigh over this a lot. Ronan comes out, frowning, because he didn't know anyone could pick him up, but then-]

How the hell did you get here?

[quaerit]

[ Chainsaw's appearance relieves Gansey almost as much as seeing Matthew awake. He reaches up to pet her, and chooses to take her attempt to nip his fingers off as affectionate. He can't take her into the station, but given that he has about as much desire for an audience as she does, he sends the crowd away with a dismissal laden with charmspeak. Ordinarily, Gansey wouldn't be so keen to use it, but this is a special occasion. He just wants them to leave in peace.

He sends Chainsaw back up to the eave, and goes in to make the arrangements they need.

The worry doesn't properly leave his shoulders until he sees Ronan walking towards him. Then Gansey's shoulders relax, and he lets out a breath. Ronan looks the worse for wear, but that's not much of a surprise - he'd obviously been arrested for something, and fighting was the easiest and most obvious guess. Clearly it was also the correct one. It should mean that Gansey would be angry -

But after more than a week of not knowing what happened, he's just glad they're together again. ]

They called me.

Well, technically they saw me calling you, and they thought I'd like to know where you were. Jesus, Ronan. What happened, and who did that to you?

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[Ronan scowls, then. This is weird, because this isn't Henrietta but Gansey is acting like it is.]

I don't mean here, this building, I mean here, this place.

[This is the first indication that Ronan is not entirely the same - or at least that he might be missing some critical memories, here. He reaches for his wallet, his things, and it's also clear that while he's scowling, he's not scowling at Gansey.]

It's fine, I'm fine, but seriously, how the hell are you here? Why aren't you in Henrietta?

[quaerit]

[ Gansey pauses, then. He hadn't assumed that was what Ronan meant for the simple reason that he shouldn't mean that. They'd all arrived together, months ago, and they'd gotten used to the place. Gansey had been told that when people left, they returned home as though no time had passed, but...

...but he'd assumed that if Ronan came back, he would remember. It hadn't occurred to him that it would be like starting all over again. But the confusion on his face seems genuine. Gansey's gaze is careful, manifesting in a slight frown. He takes a step forward. ]

I haven't been home for eight months, Lynch. We've all been here together.

You don't remember that?

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[There's a pause, and the look on Ronan's face makes it clear that he doesn't know what the actual fuck Gansey is talking about. He looks uncertain and maybe a little offended, but in Ronan parlance the offendedness isn't aimed at Gansey, it's aimed at the idea that Gansey might have lost his mind.]

I got here three hours ago.

We were just home.

[quaerit]

[ He really doesn't remember.

Gansey takes that in. Ronan could have lost the entirety of their time here. No, Gansey will not let himself believe that yet. There's still time for it to come back, for something familiar to trigger the memories. That could happen, couldn't it? He's not going to give up that hope before it's tested.

And either way, he is not going to have this argument here, where local police officers can hear. He steps towards the door. ]

All right. Look, I'll explain. Not here, though, in the car.

[ In your car. In the car you made. ]

There's a lot, Ronan. You'll want to be sitting down for this.

[aberth]

[ Sometime later, after all the dust has settled and Adam has finished having a panic attack of epic proportions, he sends Ronan a text. It's not really a very wordy thing, just a request that they get together and talk. Part of him really wants to leave it, because he's angry at the world for putting him through this, and because it would be easier to go back to pretending. But he can't. Gansey and the others wouldn't let him, and it's not fair to lie about something as weighty as being in love with someone. It would come out, and Ronan would be angrier that he kept it from him than he would at Adam having to tell him this.

Because it's late, and because he can - for the most part - control his power inside, he chooses his room. It feels a little strange to be giving directions to a place Ronan made and should know like the back of his hand, but there you go.

He's pacing when he hears the door creak open ( he doesn't shut it anymore, not since Gansey was ten and needed him ), and when he looks at the other boy he smiles. Relief once again makes it known, because Ronan's back and even if he can't remember, he's still here. ] Hey. [ He stops pacing and moves to sit at the edge of his bed. ] The shock set in yet?

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[Ronan is, perhaps unfairly, irritated. He's irritated that he's been here before and that he doesn't remember, that he created this house, that it bears his unmistakeable stamp, and that he doesn't remember that either. That he was a person here in this place that isn't a dream, and that he doesn't remember any of it. He feels like something's been stolen from him, like a piece of himself is missing inside of his own head.

He's spent a while in the space that was supposed to be his, weighing the virtues of setting everything on fire, but realized he wasn't that boy anymore. Rage was still in him, but it wasn't going to power him like it did just a few months ago, into decisions that would result in only regrets.

So Adam texts him and he doesn't reply. He just goes.

He opens the door a little. He knows that he and Adam have a strange friendship - or maybe that's not the best way to say it, maybe this friendship isn't strange. It's something else, that's all. He focuses on something near Adam, for a minute.]

This place is fucking weird.

[He comes in, then, one hand on top of his head. He needs to shave again.]

This isn't even like a dream that I can't remember weird. Just weird.

[aberth]

You dreamt it.

[ But the blow of his words is softened a little by his smile. Adam has nothing but love for this place. It was made to give them all a safe space. And his room, the way it is separate but still a part of the house, like him, has always made him feel a little better. He's never had anything like this before. And it was Ronan's doing. ]

Matthew okay?

[ Ronan's not quite looking at him and it pulls at something sharp inside Adam's chest. It's true that they hadn't really explored the thing they'd become, but he'd forgotten what it was like when they didn't accept what they knew. It makes him want to reach out and touch, pull his friend back into the sphere of them. Instead he just curls his hands in his comforter and waits it out. ]

[unguibusetrostro]

[He takes a look around. It looks like something familiar. It looks like something he would dream. It looks like something he would consider home.]

But I don't remember it.

[That's the part that bothers him. At the question about Matthew, Ronan shrugs a little, uncomfortable.]

I have to talk to him. He might be. He's good at being okay.

[What's unsaid: Ronan designed him that way, without knowing it. A boy with emotions as complex as a paper heart.]

Are you?

[aberth]

[ There have been countless times where Adam has thought the same thing. Matthew wasn't built to be difficult. It makes him a little sad, sometimes, for Ronan's sake. All of that responsibility from the whim of a dream. ]

I'm --. [ Fine.

He almost says it, but there's a moment where he pauses, the opportunity to cover up right in front of him. He can't though, and so he shrugs. ] I'm glad you're back. [ He'd have coped with missing Ronan, but he wouldn't have wanted to. ] You've got questions, right? About this place? [ Adam still has and he's been here for so long, too long, if he's honest. ] I thought maybe I could help.

[ At least it would give him time to screw his courage to the sticking place. ]

[unguibusetrostro]

[Ronan moves, closes the door behind him, and sinks down to sit on the ground, his knees up. He's wearing clothes he found, clothes that are his at the same time they're not. He looks like himself, maybe. He looks a little bit unsure, too, and it settles on him like a newfound fury, etched on his face.

But Adam is glad he's back.

Adam is glad that Ronan is here.]

What power did you get?

[Power. Ha.]

Matthew | house

[unguibusetrostro]

[Ronan isn't sure about how he feels about Matthew being here.

On one hand, he's relieved; Matthew is here, it's one less thing to worry about, to think about, to miss. Matthew is here without Declan, making it even better.

On the other hand, Matthew is here and he just woke up from a sleep that lasted however long he was gone, and that's-

It's uncomfortable to think about in the long run and almost something Ronan panics over in the short. Does Matthew know? Has he realized? He knows he'll have to talk to him about it, and it's not something he wanted to do. Who wants to throw that wrench of identity politics at one of the people he has left, the people he loves the most?

But Ronan isn't a coward and Ronan isn't a liar. He finds Matthew's room and opens the door.]

Let's take a walk.

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew very nearly jumps up at the suggestion, immediately meeting Ronan at the door. ]

Okay.

[ This is something he's been waiting for. He's been making some attempts to stay calm, because from what he's picked up so far it's been a strange day for everybody, not just him. But the phone he's still clutching in his hand has a week's worth of missed calls, and it opens up a nervous pit in his stomach.

This feels like when he found the gun in Declan's car. No one wanted to tell him what was going on then, either, but maybe now, maybe Ronan will explain, help Matthew make sense of everything. ]

Ronan--

[ How to even begin? ]

I don't know what's going on.

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[Once they're outside, there's Chainsaw, flying, landing at Ronan's shoulder, making clicking noises with her beak at Matthew in a raven-y hello. Ronan walks a bit, quiet, trying to keep this fury inside of him. He didn't want to do this. Suddenly he understands Declan's predicament a bit better, and that makes him even angrier.

But he doesn't take his anger out on Matthew. That's an impossible thing.]

You mean why we're here?

[That's not what Matthew means. It's too close to a lie for comfort.]

[dreamkid]

[ Too close for comfort, but not enough of a lie for Matthew to know about it. He gives an earnest, innocent shake of his head. ]

No, not that.

[ Make no mistake, he still can't explain how exactly they all ended up in another dimension with superpowers, but that isn't what's bothering him right now.

Chainsaw is herself, at least, settled in her usual place on Ronan's shoulder. Matthew looks up as they walk and waits for the others, the songbirds that can't seem to resist fluttering down into his hair whenever he and Ronan are outside together. But today it's just Chainsaw; the rest of the Meadow's avian life no longer feels the need to say hello, and for Matthew at least, their absence is notable, another thing that's changed without him knowing. ]

I mean. You were here, and then you left, and now you're back.

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I don't remember anything.

[He says it and the frustration in his voice is evident; he doesn't remember anything and he hates it. He wants to remember. He wants to know what he was doing here. He wants to remember kissing Adam for the first time.

But he doesn't and it's annoying.]

I'm not the same.

[He says it and it's uncomfortably true, even though it's not quite. He's not the same because he had experiences here once, and they're not the experiences he's had elsewhere. But he looks at Matthew.]

Spit it out.

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew's voice is quiet. ]

I know. It's fine.

[ Fortunately, he has had some experience here already with people not remembering things that they were supposed to know. Of course, that was Adam, that was Gansey, a ten-year-old Gansey--not Ronan, not his brother. But Matthew can't bear seeing him upset, so it's fine.

That Ronan doesn't remember being here before is not the only thing bothering him, anyway. ]

I don't remember everything, either. Like when you left, or when you were gone.

[ He takes a breath, and Ronan told him to "spit it out" so he finally does. ]

Because-- I think I was asleep the whole time.

[ As he speaks, he holds up the phone he's been tightly squeezing this whole time and offers it to Ronan, as testimony to his claim. He's yet to return any of the missed calls, from work, school, friends, even Dorian Gray, of all people; the notifications have just been sitting there, evidence of some weighty thing. Matthew knows that people don't simply fall asleep for days at a time. At least, normal people don't. Real people don't. But he won't believe anything for sure until the words come out of Ronan's mouth, and he looks at his older brother now with an urgent sort of trust in his eyes. ]