maskormenacelogs | Fire Meet Gasoline[Closed]

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Fire Meet Gasoline[Closed]

WHO: Daisy and Crane
WHERE: Heropa
WHEN: August 10th
WHAT: Daisy being reunited with 'Lincoln'
WARNINGS: Emotional manipulation, will edit if anything else happens.

It's been difficult or Daisy to feel comfortable being in the public eye again since coming back. Most of her time had been spent in the woods in a cabin with Jesse, and recently, a few other people. She is in desperate need of her own clothes as opposed to Jesse's. Which is why he had come back to Heropa. She wouldn't be long though, because even this is a bit overwhelming. Gathering her belongings, Daisy makes a pit stop at the gas station just across the way was the diner she had frequented in the past. She had just pulled out the nozzle from the tank when she had to do a double take at the person she just spotted across the way.

Her heart leapt as she blindly shoved the nozzle back into the machine and darted across the road.

"Lincoln?!" It was impossible to speak loudly, her throat tightening when she tried to get his name out. It wouldn't be that surprising if he hadn't heard her.

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Crane glances around the diner. He wonders why anybody is desperate enough to eat in such places, and attributes it to a lack of education and laziness. Did the man whose face he was borrowing eat here?

He didn't much care. It was a small matter. Nothing important compared to the relationship he would never have with his partner again. She was running over to him now, like a frightened child who'd found her missing toy.

"Daisy?" He hadn't heard her but he'd seen her. He meets her eyes - his own face bloodied. "I usually like first meetings to be less painful, but -"

Is this actually happening right now or is this just another fucked up nightmare of hers? It wasn't her first, seeing him alive in her dreams only to wake up and remember all over again.

She notices the blood as she takes in his appearance and her stomach drops.

"How?" She's afraid to get too close, afraid she will wake up.

How was he here?

He shakes his head. He doesn't worry about his passing. He doesn't like to think about it, and doesn't need to be reminded of it. Not a terribly nice thing for a lady to remind her partner of his trauma. Peace and quiet; she has to give him that.

"I have no idea." He sniffs the back of his hand. "I mean, it's not every day this sort of stuff happens."

"How are you even walking right now?" Daisy's mind is flooding with things to say, but that's the first thing she's able to get out.

Hesitating, Daisy reached out to gingerly grab hold of his arm. Fearing he was going to collapse. He had to be in shock, this whole place was enough to take in when you weren't almost or already dead.

"What do you remember?"

The part of his mind that loathes being touched recoils from her contact. He had been touched by his caregiver, children at school; he knows what to be touched means and he doesn't like it. The affection would cease and it would turn into something else. He would, later, apply the correct response for her transgression. For her rudeness. For now? He would tolerate it.

"That I was basically dead? Not that I remember how I even got here. I'd usually think back to the beginning and work from there, but..."

He had. You know. Died.

This was a lot for her to take in and she wasn't even the one to die. She still thought it should've been her though.

"I know this is a lot to take in. We'll go somewhere, okay? I have a place here. I'll explain everything to you."

"I wouldn't say no to a nightcap," he begins, wincing as she touches him gently. "Sorry. Still quite sore."

He looks pained just thinking about those wounds. Or perhaps he's just judging her apartment in advance. Who knows?

A nightcap? I mean, yeah, he was basically dead and in this whole new world. She wouldn't agree to that. Besides, there wasn't any alcohol in the house, Alison also had alcoholic tendencies.

"Come on. We're going to my car."

That she got from Jesse. It was tempting to text him, let him know what's happening. Maybe even ask him to heal Lincoln, but she didn't want to overwhelm Lincoln.

When they got back to the apartment, Daisy was relieved to not see anyone on their way to their room. She hasn't been in here since she left almost a month ago. Shoving things off of her bed, Daisy made sure Lincoln was sitting before stepping towards the door.

"I'll be right back, okay? My roommate has a first aid kit."

Crane had gone through a variety of thoughts upon entering Daisy's home. Upon walking in, his eyes had fallen on her possessions and they'd informed his opinion of her mental state. He had sat without a word, even as she'd cleaned and fussed. This house was a mess. Jumbled and confused, like its owner - who believed love was more than a chemical reaction in the brain.

"I'm not that bad, just get me some antisceptic and a plaster or something."

Sifting through the first aid kit when she got back, her hands trembled as she was still trying to process this all. Daisy looked up when he mentioned needing a plaster. A plaster?

"What is that?"

He sheepishly tilts his head from side-to-side; an idle shrug follows and then he waves his right hand.

"A band-aid. Sorry." He scratches his forehead. "Some of my best friends are British."

And by friends he means patients.

Edited 2016-08-11 15:06 (UTC)

"A band-aid." Daisy said dully. Was he in shock? Did he not realize just how serious his injury was? Because she remembered all the blood, and how cold and clammy he felt. A band aid wasn't going to fix it.

Unless...?

"Can you heal yourself now? Some people get powers when they come here."

She's already reaching for his shirt to try and lift it up so she could see just how bad the wound was.

"And since when have Fitz-Simmons been your best friends?"

"Hey. I was joking." He moves quickly; raises his arms and turns his body away. He's making it harder to lift his shirt under the guise of banter. He doesn't look too wounded. Certainly not as much as he should be.

"Those nanites patched me up a bit but they're not perfect."

"Hilarious."

Let her make a fuss, dammit.

"You are the worst patient ever for being a doctor."

Daisy reached for his shirt again, clearly concerned still despite the fact he just said the nanities patched him up.

"Just let me look. Please."

Edited 2016-08-11 15:37 (UTC)

Well, she was right about him being the worst patient considering his profession. Not that she might understand why. He does, not having received enough coaxing, throw his hands in the air like a five-year-old. This is just playing. He's a doctor. He should know whether he's well enough or not, right?

"You've got nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Nothing to worry about. Yep. That broke the flood gates that were her eyeballs because suddenly she's sobbing.

"You died because of me!"

She never thought she would see him again and now he's here and she doesn't know what else to do.

Jonathan Crane, as Lincoln, goes through a variety of expressions as she starts the waterworks. He first looks bewildered, and then he knots his brow, scrunches his nose - a combination of the two. Any display of the like would have been disgusting, but there's a warm satisfaction in his stomach at her being so open about her feelings without knowing who she's sharing them with.

"It was necessary. You know what would have happened... If I hadn't done it, you'd have done it yourself."

And Lincoln wouldn't have let that happen.

"You paid for my mistakes, Lincoln. That should've been me. I wanted it to be me."

Hi guilt, it's been a minute. Or, you know, ten seconds.

"Fortunately it wasn't." There's no time for her to wallow. "Saving the girl I loved? Seemed like the right idea at the time to me."

He also saved the world. But, well, let's focus on Daisy for now?

He said it again. That he loved her. That makes three times now, and she never had the chance to say it back to him.

Now would be her chance to say it, but instead of actually saying it out loud she just leans in to kiss him.

Touching. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move when her fingers move around the back of his neck. He doesn't like being reminded of his past. He doesn't enjoy weakness in the present. She could only imagine the amount of energy and fortitude it was taking him to keep his composure, even as he begins to wince and push her hand away.

"Sorry. I'm a bit sore."

And by a bit he means a lot. Or at least that's what his skin underneath is going to fake, damnit.

Edited 2016-08-14 20:17 (UTC)

Deflated, Daisy lets her hand fall away from him.

"Are you going to let me look at now?"

He hides a rumble in his throat. And arches himself back against the wall - angling an arm across his shoulder, almost like he's preparing to run. But he seems to be loosening his collar, and he begins pulling his shirt apart so she can peer at the welting bruise at the back of his neck.

To hell with all of this. Give him an Oscar.

Watching as he struggled to pull of his shirt, Daisy swallowed thickly as she reached out in case he needed help.

The wound on his stomach had healed quite a bit, but it was still hard for her to look at it. Looking at the nasty looking bruise on the back of his neck, Daisy's hand hovered near it before moving away.

"It needs ice. I'll be right back, okay?"

She wanted to hurt James the way he hurt her. The way he hurt Lincoln. If she ever saw him again, he'd regret it. This was her fault. If she hadn't been under Hive's sway she would've never let him become an Inhuman.

Coming back into the room, Daisy held onto the rag that was wrapped around the ice.

"Here. Lean forward."

He does as asked, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his abdomen - and everywhere else he cares to fake it. Trying to ignore what he looks like beneath it all, he keeps directing new shapes into his line of sight. It's hard enough not to grab his shirt and pull it on once ore.

"I've been to med school, Daisy. I think I'll be fine."

"I know, but, I want to help." She doesn't blame him for being so distant. It just didn't make her feel too great either. Was he mad at her?

"I wouldn't mind a drink."

Of water or something stronger. Those emotions were so fun to exploit, even if he was doing so to add to his knowledge. Not of the contents of her liqour cabinet but her assertiveness, amongst other things.

Or maybe he just likes the idea of being waited on hand and foot?

Edited 2016-08-15 09:59 (UTC)

Her stomach twists at his words. She know what he meant by that, and she wasn't going to let him have it. Not that they had any of that stuff in the house.

"I'll go get you some water."

Edited 2016-08-15 13:53 (UTC)

He breathes; tries to force his frustration out through his calmness. That was probably too close to the bone. Though he truly had desired only water, which meant there was a certain level of mistrust. Her behavior was fearful - because his might be hideous. Not that her clothes weren't as terrible.

"That's what I was asking for?"

He furrows his brow. What did she think he meant? Alcohol? Didn't she trust him? Wow. What a cow.

Well when he's hinted twice now that he wants alcohol...

Daisy doesn't say anything as she leaves the room to get him a glass of water. Only after chugging down a few glassfusl of her own. Her face is slightly red when she comes back into her room. She may've cried a bit out there, of course, she won't tell him that.

"Here."

Crane notices she's brought him water in more than one sense of the word. And it's so nice of him to question her about it; to do what a good boyfriend would do. He needed to ask her about it. Either way, he's still a better partner than Jesse.

"Thanks."

He takes the glass and sets it down.

"Have you been crying?"

'No' would've been the easy answer, even if it was an obvious lie.

"You're just..." Daisy trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I don't know how to act around you. The last time we talked, did you even mean everything you said?"

She quickly added, in fear of upsetting him:

"It's okay if you didn't." Except it wasn't.

His hands clench together, and his right eye twitches a little. He doesn't like the implication he forgets everything he says. But they are both adults who've been through so much. So his tone isn't so much offended as curious.

"Why are you asking me that after everything? Yes I do mean everything I say, but it's not always simple. Especially after, well."

You know.

She regrets even asking now.

"I know."

After he died because of her, and, no, she won't ever stop blaming herself for that. Even if he is here now.

"It's fine." His teeth aren't wholly clenched as he talks, watching her closely. "I didn't think I'd be here, obviously."

He runs a hand through the back of his hair, then shakes it out. "Anyway. Do you have anything warm to eat around here?"

Daisy had been leaning against the doorway when Lincoln asked if they had warm food here.

"Probably. I'd have to check. What do you want?" Yeah, she wasn't the greatest cook so unless Alison's already made something and there's leftovers...

"The best you've got."

He doesn't look particularily fussy. He looks as if he'll welcome anything slid under his nose, even though he wants to berate her afterwards, in pretentious fashion.

"Right." Daisy pushed off the door.

"You want to stay here or come out to the kitchen?" The fact that he was even sitting up was good, right?

He shakes his head, waves his hand and doesn't say anything more. He tilts his head and gives a small smile. Wondering how she feels after being intimate with someone leaves him in a quandary; he draws on his experiences with Sherry to make sense of it all. Then he lists the chemical processes, psychological conditions...

"I'll stay here, if it's all the same.

And hey. Thanks. It's good to see you."

"Okay." Daisy replied softly, about to walk out of the room when he spoke up again.

Her stomach churned, but this time, it was in a good way. It was a feeling she felt whenever she was around him.

"I missed you."

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Fire Meet Gasoline[Closed]

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