Players: Connor & Rashmi
Summary: In the fallout of Ahab's departure, Rashmi finds an emotionally embroiled Connor and helps him to see that perhaps the problems is faces are smaller and less terrifying than he assumed.
Date: August 12, 2010
Log Title: Proverbs, Books, and Covers.
Rating: PG
NYC - Barnes and Noble
Featuring 4 floors of books, music, movies, and other novelties, this Barnes and Nobles is quite large. On the first floor a bookshop by the windows offering WiFi and hook ups for customers with laptops. Books of all types and genres cover the first two floors, the third floor is dedicated to children's books and other novelties, and the fourth floor is where you can find many varieties of music. This Barnes and Nobles has most things covered.
Jai Ho from Slumdog Millionare begins playing on Connor's phone.
Connor answers, "Yeah?"
On the phone, Rashmi replies, "*There* you are! I tried looking for you when I came back Monday but I couldn't find you or James. I just… Iunno. Wanted to check up on you, you know? I was really worried about you. You okay?"
Connor sighs and mumbles something out of earshot, "I don't know where James is, Rashmi… and I couldn't care less right now." Definate biterness in his voice, "I'm in the downtown B&N off Times Square… only place I could think to hide for a bit. I'm really… really not okay. Not that anyone there cares."
"….I'll be right there.", Rashmi replies, "I just got off work, so it's on my way. …Maybe fifteen minutes?"
"… Allright…", Connor finally replies, and hangs up.
Connor is sitting in the little coffee shop most Barnes and Nobles have, his laptop open and watching something as he sits in a comfortable corner with a rather apparent ten foot 'GO AWAY' barrier around him by the look on his face. Two empty containers of drip sit next to him, a third in his hand and sipped from as he then sits back and exhales hard.
A little over ten minutes after the phone conversation, Rashmi walks through the doors, eyes flicking left and right as she moves through the store. Spotting the teen at the coffee shop, and the mental barbed-wire that his glowery expression has set up, she makes a beeline for him, still in her not-quite-cheap charcoal business wear. "Oh good, there you are," she says, dropping into the chair closest the boy. "So. Why not good? ….Also thanks again for the present, it's *incredible.*"
Connor sets the cup down, and closes the laptop perhaps a bit harder than intended, enough that it clatters a moment. The reminder of the present mollifies him a little bit, and he nods once, "You deserved it… and without you there… it feels like it's all falling apart. I… I'm angry. For the stupidest reasons, but I'm pissed as hell, and wishing I could…" Shaking his head, Connor looks away, and to one side, "I wish I had someone to take it out on."
Rashmi blinks at the relative slamming of the laptop, brows furrowing as she listens. Nodding slowly, she tilts her head, eyes rising to study the boy. "Um… All right… well… why *are* you angry?"
Connor slaps his hands down on the chair, "Because I don't think they really care about me Rashmi… I don't. Not Robyn, not James, not anyone… honest to god, it's hilarious… but it's like anyone who would've given a flying…" Stopping as some kids move by, "A flying pig about me… is gone." There's an irritated shake of his head, "They'll come see Tara because she god burned in the fight, they'll see Robyn because he was hit by a car… me? No one gives a crap. I don't rate so well… Only time they see me is when I'm around others. They don't even like being around me anymore…" And is looks like he's building up an emotional head, evidenced by the fact that one of the cups begins floating as gravity forgets to be there for a few moments.
Rashmi leans forward, reaching out to push down on the cup and hold it there, mind racing. "….Wait Tara got *burned?!* I…. no. Hang on." Closing her eyes, the redhead takes in a deep, slow breath. "Why um… don't we start by assuming that while you guys were beating up a time-traveling lunatic, I was um…. sort of completely oblivious. I never actually *heard* what happened, you know…"
Connor sees the cup and grabs it before it becomes noticable, getting ahold of himself, "Tara and I took off, we were going to walk to a place I could port us both back to the school… but then right in the middle of the street, Ahab appeared. He appeared looking for you, and Robyn.. and… everyone…" Teeth grit as he hisses out, "And then he said he was coming for me… and I panicked. I froze. I'd be one of his bondage crew if Tara hadn't gotten me to snap out of it. So we fought… and I hurt myself to give me the edge to hit him. I came up right behind him and suckerpunched Ahab… then we dragged him to Xavier's and Mister Falk did his thing.. and that's when I saw it… I saw… me…" Those blue-green eyes somehow showing themselves suddenly and profoundly haunted.
"Yeah," Rashmi says, her voice low, subdued. "I saw it too… um. Me." Letting out a shuddery sigh, she shakes her head, moving her hand from the cup to Connor's arm. "Okay, so… You mean while I was in the mall eating Cinnabon, you *punched out* the guy that made the *Avengers* get together to try to figure out how to keep me from becoming one of those weird leather-people? And probably made it so we don't have to worry about him ever again? …And you're mad at yourself because you didn't jump in and do that right *away?*"
Connor murmurs out, some tears forming on the edges of his eyes, "Is this all I'm meant to be? A soldier… no… a weapon? The things I saw myself do… I was like some kind of comic book character brought to life… remorseless, dark, unwavering… now it's spilled over here. I just wanted to be a writer. I never wanted this gift… I never wanted any of this… but now… why is it the only time life makes any sense to me is when I'm hitting something." And he looks down at his hands, balled into tight fists, knuckles white, "I don't know what I want anymore, Rashmi… or where to go, or what to do. And I'm angry at all my so-called friends because I feel like I'm suddenly a burden. Like it was all politeness." Sniffing once, he takes a napkin and wipes at his eyes, "I wish I was you. I don't have that confidence you have… I envy you, Rashmi."
Rashmi snorts, shaking her head. "Don't," she says softly. "There's nothing to be jealous of…" Closing her eyes, she leans back in her chair. "Connor… I wanted to be an activist. Law was supposed to be the road in, you know? Maybe, *maybe* if I was lucky be half as good in the courtroom as Mr. Murdock, but… And then I find out I have this power…" There's something like a laugh, but it's quiet, not really full of feeling. "…I grew up on Gandhi, you know… Dr. King, Mother Teresa. Benjamin *Franklin,* even… People who weren't afraid to stand up and fight for what they believed… But never once throwing a punch to back it up. … And I'm still pretty sure I killed that mugger. Because of my powers." Opening her eyes, she reaches out, squeezing Connor's shoulder. "It's not confidence. It's just me trying to keep my head above water the only way I know how… By grabbing the entire world, sitting it down, and *making* it make sense. …Sort of like you, honestly…"
Connor grumbles, "Better than me… I grew up people thinking I was going to turn into another Columbine kid. At least until Uncle Yuri took me under his wing. First it was because kids were picking on me… then it was because… he was more of a dad to me than my dad was… he listened to me… and he was never afraid to jerk the chain short when I needed it…" Taking up the coffee, he downs a liberal portion to hide some of the other thoughts, "How is anything you've been through like me, or like this? I can't make sense of things… not like this… not when it's so overwhelming I want to scream." But then the smile reappears, "Still wish I was you… can't change that right now."
Rashmi shrugs. "I can't make sense of them, either, really… …But in a way, I sort of wish I had someone like you did, with Uncle Yuri… Mami and Papi, they're wonderful people, and they couldn't ever upset me… But… they *can't* know what it's like, when your head is spinning so fast it almost makes you sick… and you just want to hold onto a thought long enough to *say* it, but all the others want their say too, you know…?" She chuckles again, but this a touch more meaningful. "Not to mention all the other stuff… I mean come on. One month out of school, and already all of my friends are dealing with just wave after wave of horrible things, and I miss it all because I'm hip-deep in people I used to think only existed on TV… And I know that *sounds* awesome and all, but you know what? I miss Xavier's. I miss you, and the others… I miss my biggest real problem being how to run damage control for Lucas after he opened his mouth again…" Smiling gently, she pats Connor's shoulder, leaning bacack in her chair. "That's why it's kind of the same… suddenly there's just so much going on that's way too *big,* you know?"
Connor reaches up and catches the hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a moment, "You put him straight somehow… you know? I… I yelled at Robyn. I was mad… because he's going away, back home… getting some time away. But I kept waiting for someone… anyone… to ask the question. But when he asked it… and I told him how I felt… I got mad. Why couldn't he understand that I'm just speaking my mind. It's not meant to hurt him, but he took it all personally… after he ASKED." Eyes fall a bit a ragged breath is taken before Connor then adds, "And I'm still angry, Rashmi… and I don't know why… I know I should apologize to him, but at the same time, I feel like… he deserved it."
Rashmi doesn't frown… but it's there in her eyes, the sense that she wants to sigh, to shake her head, but knows how important this is. "Connor… The thing you have to understand about Robyn. He…. doesn't spend a lot of time up here," she says, tapping the side of her head. "It's all his heart… That's sort of why he's such a good artist, right? But I mean… You should ask him about all the stuff he's had to deal with since he came here. And it's worn on him, a lot… Because he just keeps digging his heels in, all 'No, I know what I want and I'm gonna want it.'" One shoulder lifts and falls, a lock of hair tucked behind her ear. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's why you both got so mad at each other. You were trying to deal with in through your head, and he just turned around and dumped his heart out all over your shoes, you know?"
Connor makes the frown that Rashmi can't and then nods once more, a bit mollified, "He kept asking me what I wanted… and I didn't want anything… I just wanted him to listen, maybe to understand… I wasn't asking him to DO anything. I needed to talk… but…" There's a brief hesitation as he gulps, "It's not like I could tell anyone else… it wouldn't matter to them. It's always something else. It's always someone else's problem first. Like Lucas and… well… yeah. And then Jinx and her looks and her attitude covering up for so much… or how James just lets us all force him to be human… when I don't think he wants to let himself be anymore."
Rashmi falls silent, not entirely sure what to say. "…Connor," she speaks up, as the silence threatent to stretch too far, "What makes you *happy?* I mean, not just calms you down or keeps you busy, just… What d'you do that makes you feel *good,* y'know? You keep talking about wanting to be a writer, but… I don't think I've ever heard about any one of the stories you're working on."
Connor nods once, "I… I stopped a few months ago… after I found out how my powers worked. I went back and reread everything I'd written because I'm not sure was what really me, and what was because I see my other selves. So… not much. I tried recently, but it seems dry and stale. It didn't feel like there was any life in the words." Shrugging, he holds up the empty coffee cup and asks, "You want anything?" But as he says this, he turns his laptop around and opens it up, "Password is frumious. Go ahead and poke around. There's no porn on it."
Rashmi lifts up a hand at the offer for coffee. "That's okay… I have enough trouble thinking in two or three straight lines as it is." As Connor goes off for a refill, she hesitantly enters the password, poking around as solicitously as she can, in search of the stories folder.
Stories are right on top, one of the first folders available. There's meticulous recordkeeping, going all the way back to when he was seven… ten years of stories stored on here, most in simple txt format. Below STORIES, is PICTURES, and another folder marked JOURNAL. But there are hundreds of entries in there, subfolders that go mostly by date and year, but there are a few that are full stories kept in their own folders. All the titles sound macabre however. 'The Great Unease' 'The Black Beast of the Forest' 'The Invader Within Us' and one marked 'Descent into Light'. All of which contain chapters, revisions… even plot outlines an other things one would expect from a professional author. Connor himself is in line, flicking his eyes to Rashmi as he looks back at the tea selection.
Rashmi reads through synopses and chapters, always certain to get at least three chapters of written word for every outline that grabs her eye, and before long she's too engrossed in the reading to really notice the tacit offer of tea. Stories have her, and for the redhead that's a trap it's impossible to want to get out of.
The first three stories are very much in the vein of gothic horror… all of ehich seem to have a theme of ordinary people forced into situation well beyond their understanding. The Great Unease was a story of a society of aliens who slowly find themselves becoming uncomfortable, having strange dreams and visions, with the plot twist being that what was causing it was radio transmissions from Earth. The Black Beast and the Invader a much more of a standard fare… The Black Beast a twist on the werewolf tale of a creature that is trying to cure people of the plague, but can only do so by kidnapping them, and is eventually killed by one of his patients. The Invader within, aliens inside human bodies living human lives. But Descent into light seems ambitious. It's a perspective piece of a demon being captured and tortured by Angels for information on the wall of Heaven and Hell. And how dichtomized and yet humanized both interrogator and interrogatee are by this.
Connor sits down across from you, settling a small cup of red tea with honey in it, and takes his own fresh cup of coffee, and begins sipping it softly as he watches her carefully.
Even the tea goes unnoticed, at first, until she pulls her head away from the screen, blinking as she notices Connor sitting *right there,* as if he'd teleported or something. Then her eyes drop to the tea, and her cheeks redden a bit. "Oh! Um… sorry. I was just… well. This is *really good,* Connor… all of it, but this last one is something I'd really probably buy, you know?"
Connor headtilts a bit and then flushes slightly himself before he nods once and then shrugs, "Most of the good stuff was written in the little space I had after the counselors were done with me, and I went to Xavier's. The last one… well… I remember reading the bible. It was something Yuri had me do. It had all these things about Angels and Demons, and all of that… and it just sort of made me wonder, what would happen is they tried to treat it like we'd treat a war. That's where it started, really… but…" And he pauses, "You really like it? None of them are finished though… well… they are, but it's all so rough."
Rashmi bobs her head. "I really do. I think you might honestly be on to something with these stories, Connor… And seriously, so *what* if they're visions of other yous or not? You're the only one that's going to know, and if it's a good story it's still a good story, right?"
Connor motions with one hand, "Go into the Journals folder… it's where I chronicle the things I've seen… I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is write it all down. Every so often I compare it all against what I wrote when I was younger, trying to see if there was a connection. Maybe you're right, maybe I have been seeing the forest for the trees… but I haven't felt like my head is on straight since I manifested."
"Well," Rashmi says slowly, paging through Journals as instructed, "I don't even think it's that much; you just sort of locked onto the wrong part, you know? I mean, here's all these great stories you want to finish… But what's holding you up is something that's only ever going to mean anything to *you,* not anyone else who reads them, right?"
None of the Journals are more than three of four paragraphs, but there are often familiar names, and descriptions to fill in the gaps. You pass by some with your own name, and the contents are lovely and horrible. One speaks of you declaring the world to be spared from a being called Galactus because you agree to travel with it. In another you're something called a Horseman. And there is one where you read about yourself in a relationship something called a Kree. Familiar names are all over the place, save for ones that occur Friday nights. Those all seem to be about people from around his home. After giving you a minute Connor says softly, "I suppose I've been trying to hard to make sure that it was all really me, and not just me parroting something I remembered from a dream. I didn't want to feel like I'd just borrowed. But the seven best plots were all written by the Greeks. Everything else is just variation, I suppose."
Rashmi nods slowly, brow furrowing—ah, she ran across the entries that have to do with her… "But is it really borrowing? I mean, if they're all you, then it's all from you, right? Whether it's fiction or semi-autobiogaphical, it all comes from the same basic place… you. Maybe all you need to do," she says, looking up and smiling, "is stop worrying whether it's any good, and just *write?*"
Connor bites his lower lip for a second, but then it turns into a grin and a chuckle, "How is it I can agonize for months over a problem and you can lay it out in an hour and make it make sense?" Shaking his head though, he sits back, "Man… do I feel like a heel… seriously… I just… worry. All the time. And so I go running, or I work out, or I play something… anything to get rid of the feeling like something's wrong when I look at my computer, and just get back to it."
"Well of *course* you do!" Rashmi says with a grin, throwing her hands in the air. "If I was literally a living ball of 'What if' I'd worry all the time too! Just… you know… I'm not. But still."
Connor retrieves his computer, and powers it down, before slipping it under and into his backpack, "I suppose apologizing is kinda pointless now… by now Robyn's home with his family… should I give him time to let all of this unravel in it's own time? I'm not good with people sometimes… people like him. I can deal with Mag…" Stopping before saying it outloud, "I can deal with you… but why can't I seem to make sense of the others?"
Rashmi pauses, blinking for a moment. "….Did you just use me as an alternative to…" She trails off, glancing left and right, before leaning in and grinning. "Magneto," she whispers, endlessly amused. "Anyway… it's because they're harder to relate to. You're… um, not obsessed, but concerned with 'What do people not want me to do?' and I'm all 'What can I do for everyone?' and most *normal* teenagers are all 'What can I…'"
Connor chuckles a bit more, "I gotta head back, so I need to get back to Central park so I can open a port to the mansion… its almost nine, and it's kitchen scraps for me." Leaning in though he kisses Rashmi on the cheek. Taking a few steps off, he turns and looks at her for a moment, then points as if recognizing something, and finally nods for confirmation, as if nothing needs be said, "I'll be around Saturday if you want to do something… maybe? Cool… meantime… sorry… and… thanks a lot!" All said as he makes for the door and the street.
