TOGETHER WE STAND—
WHO? noctis
fessus and hei
dipolar.
WHAT? noctis is alive, lying to himself over and over finally paid off.
WHEN? gallipoli's final hours, on the last boat out of hell.
ANYTHING ELSE? warning for injury, alcoholism, man tears.
WHAT? noctis is alive, lying to himself over and over finally paid off.
WHEN? gallipoli's final hours, on the last boat out of hell.
ANYTHING ELSE? warning for injury, alcoholism, man tears.
(he was ferried to this boat well long before the final evacuation, refusing to be carried on by stretchers only the near-dead should occupy. but below deck, where he's dry, safe, and surrounded by survivors, hei still feels like he's washed back up on the beaches of another hell.
it's a different kind. it comes to him by way of warm celebration when he wants nothing more than to huddle up alone and feed into his own nerve-wracking paranoias. wine's poured out into a cup and introduced to his hands while the naïve take his arms and hail him a hero, hurrying him in the direction of french soldiers who've been waiting to hear stories. stories of danger, grandeur, and feats no average man should be capable of. he wasn't meant to sing songs of successes with them, numbly sloshing drink onto the chest of his tattered uniform, a fact only noticed when he doesn't speak after being prompted to.
while he's met with some understanding — men with shell shock don't typically tell happy tales or speak much at all —, hei's quickly forgotten and left by the wayside.
they're all scrabbling to celebrate life, drink to their successes, honour the fallen with toasts and cheers. it's fine. hei understands. he can relate to the dozens of haunted men who've hunched over on themselves and intend to spend the night with their thoughts and thank god in their own way. there's no energy he can provide the festivities when his own failures weigh on him so heavily that he practically buckles under the gravity of them all.
throat tight, suddenly and overwhelmingly uncomfortable with every bump of arm and elbow, he turns to escape with a drop of his cup, letting it clatter. he wants to get topside so he can breathe in bitter air, searching the crowd for any available exit, managing to run into someone and catch himself.)
Move.

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It doesn't get better the longer he stays in it.
Midnighter's presence helps, though as usual the other man is able to access a level of detached objectivity that Noctis simply can't and in some ways it leaves him feeling even more out of place. The other men say he's shell-shocked and he wonders now if that's true. He doubts it. But when it's announced that it's his turn to shuffle to the boats he feels a sense of overwhelming relief at potentially being reunited with several friends he's had yet to see. He's scrambling for anchors, for scraps of familiarity that are worth holding onto.
The cheers are unexpected. Maybe they shouldn't have been; these men have been here a hell of a lot longer than the rest of them have and they deserve their celebrations, don't they? He tries to slip past them, eyes scanning mops of dirty hair, but his best efforts don't save him from colliding with a hard body. Wait, that voice-- ]
Hei? [ His own is almost inaudible, tenuous already and ready to be drowned out by another cheer. ]
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Noctis? (a weak question, laden with a guilt that's become oppressive.
hei's not one to let his delusions stop wine-stained fingers from twitching at his sides, arms forced up and out and around the boy's shoulders. an unkempt chin rough with facial hair he couldn't keep shaving presses into a narrow shoulder and he tries not to let all the wine he'd drunk coerce him into tears.
he's real, he's alive, he's back from wherever the hell they've been keeping him. so soon, too? hei has half a mind to demand answers out of him, quiz him on things from back in his world to ascertain whether or not his core history's been tampered with the way young said it would be. he's sure that can wait, selfishly raking fingers into the back of his friend's shirt. he's alive.)
I'm sorry.
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Words fail him in response to an apology that he doesn't understand -- is it because Hei feels he should've protected him? Is it just his own expression of sympathy for what can safely be assumed to have been a brutal experience? His gaze passes over a sea of alcohol-reddened faces, most mirthful but many more pensive and frozen. His fingers tighten in Hei's jacket in return, then, suddenly taking a sharp step back that has him jostling another soldier who, far from seeming angry, just laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
He makes sure to keep Hei close as they scale the stairs again together, breaking free from the warmth of the celebrations to exchange it for solitude and cold night air. There are still no words from him as he guides him further towards the side of the boat, staring out at a choppy sea. ]
--sorry. If it's too cold we can go back down again. If you're still hurt pretty badly... I was worried about you.
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shakes his head vehemently when noctis offers to go back down, but he thinks he knows why the boy wants to be out here. there's more space, fewer bodies to bump against them and grab their shoulders, less prying eyes from either team. there could be regency agents thrown in amongst the crowds and his paranoia was high enough before he even reached the ship, packed like sardines in something so feeble, a tiny little cork bobbing on top of a vast, dark ocean.)
No, it's fine. I'm fine up here. (rushes the white lie and uses the guard rail keeping them from taking a spill over the side as a crutch, wanting desperately to reach for him again but the situation's changed the moment seems like it's come and gone.) Noctis, I thought you were—
(bowing his head to hide his face, shame burning at his cheeks and ears like someone's stamped them with a hot iron. this was his fault. this was their fault. teeth tighten at the disgust that threatens to bubble up and spew out in some vomitous apology noctis should never accept, but the explanation will have to wait. he needs to know if his friend's okay, if he can do anything for him before he's left alone again.)
I was a damn fool. (he croaks, only looking up when he regains some semblance of control.) I'm so glad you're back. Are you hurt anywhere?
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No. [ Nothing worth mentioning in his mind, anyway. A few close-calls with bullets, some cuts and scrapes. Nowhere close to as bad as he's used to. ]
You should be looking at yourself for that. I kept thinking about... well, they kept us in cells for a long time; there wasn't a lot to do that wasn't thinking.
I kept thinking about how bad off you were when I passed out. Should've known you'd pull through. [ Fingers grip the icy railing for a moment before he hunches over instead, clothed forearms taking the hit of that chill as he leans against it. ] And how I knew you'd do something stupid like worry about me more instead.
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it feels like he's going to disappear again. that he'll vanish along with his location again and leave him behind.)
... Guess we both should've. (hei admits, swaying with the natural rocking of the ship on black waves.
they have faith in one another, but maybe they shouldn't when it comes to situations like these? maybe they're better off worrying over one another, when it could come in handy later? that's what hei questions, too used to the cold to find it anything more than a nuisance. he wishes he had a different jacket, one with less holes. or a blanket they could huddle under.)
It must've been difficult. I can't imagine. (he understands it, no better than most but he's done his fair share of kidnapping and every single one of his captives expressed the same urge to plead for their lives and a chance to go home.) I have a lot to ask, but take your time. Alright? We're safer now, as safe as can be expected on a ship like this.
(a short silence, weighty, before hei makes an offer:)
You'll catch cold out here. Can't I find you a place to sit that's away from all this? We can discuss everything there.
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Ah... yeah, sure. Let's go. [ Anything to make things easier for the one of them that actually needs it more. He pushes off of the railing entirely now, eyes casting about for another spot... and ends up nodding back towards the stairs. ] Maybe at least near them -- some of the warmer air'll rise up from below. Just...
[ His hand hesitates in reaching for Hei but he forces it, gently gripping his upper arm. ]
Can you tell me you're okay first? What's been happening?
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what touch he can excuse is the hand that catches him by the bicep when he's pulling away to take up their new post, glad for it. he teeters a little, wine messing with his balance, before finding his sea legs.)
Achilles brought me back to camp and Dorian kept me alive. I'm still recovering... but there's nothing I can do until we're back. (finally honest with him, now that he's ascertained that noctis' own wounds are superficial — and psychological.) Achilles is gone, now, Noctis. He disappeared after Kebechet made a public address on our network. ... I'm sorry.
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... I couldn't feel him anymore. I thought maybe our connection was just... you know, that the Regency interrupted it. Guess I was wrong. [ Fingers rub at his jaw as he casts a distracted glance back, one that doesn't quite reach Hei before he's jerking his head forward again in a gesture towards the stairs. He leads the short trip over, only turning again when he's ready to offer Hei a hand -- crouching down to sit in the condition that he's in can't be easy, after all, and even with as disconnected as he's feeling he keeps Hei's comfort a high priority. There's not much else that he can help with or control right now. ]
... What did Kebechet say? [ His voice still sounds off, distant. ]
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words with no real meaning.
takes his hand readily when it's offered to him, logical enough to know this is going to pain him and appreciating noctis' help with it.) Fuck— he wanted us to surrender. As an exchange for our men. For you. (he sinks and takes a knee before letting the rest of him follow, cheeks burning with the exertion of holding back the grunt of pain that's choked off.)
He wanted us to demonstrate our democratic ways and put it all to a vote... I don't have to tell you how it went. (or that he almost immediately surrendered, something that's sure to be obvious by the way he's been conducting himself for months now.
his organizations? expendable. his people? hei leans against the wall just before the stairs, making damn sure they're wedged close, settled in, and resting before he continues.)
Achilles and I tried to use the confusion to make it to you on Kebechet's invitation, but it was an obvious trap. It didn't go through.
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He draws his knees close to his chest for warmth as he casts a quick glance over at Hei, concern obvious even with how he tries to downplay it. ]
As if people would seriously go for that... That was smart though, thanks. I--
He's the one I dealt with the most while I was in there. One on one. [ He? They? He sticks with his original assumption. HIs head sinks into his hands as he rubs at tired eyes. ] Sounds like bargaining is his thing. Part of me's glad he didn't meet up with you.
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it really was a difficult situation. but hei had appearances to keep up and there was no way in hell the vote would swing to the side of surrender. not with all of the stubborn mules in their COST cell. frustrating, albeit reliable in a predictable way.)
Kebechet is what the Regency calls a five-star operative. Interior ministry, an Anubis who specializes in interrogations and brainwashing. (he quotes both mhic nathair and young, like reading some excerpt from a textbook, before weary eyes finally raise in a bid for something far more attentive.) What's been done to you?
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To me? [ It hits hard what a near-miss this likely was. Kebechet had said it himself -- he could have operatives travel into Noctis's past and attack him there or rebrand his education to make him sympathetic to Regency views. ]
Nothing. Nothing, just... showed me a lot of things. What do you mean you tried to surrender?
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(if he can't trust noctis, he can't trust another living soul. even m was there. who can say exactly what happened while they were away.)
If you can't tell me now, Noctis, I can't answer your question... I'm sorry for this...
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[ Incredulity wells up faster than he can stop it, the apology hardly working to soften a blow he hadn't been expecting at all. Instead he just fixes him with that dark-rimmed stare, reluctant, confused, and worn down. ]
What the hell do you think they did? I saw shit that I don't wanna' talk about right now, with anyone, but it doesn't change what I'm planning to do. I've got some questions for COST maybe but that's it. No one got brainwashed, and if their attempts to recruit me had worked then I'd still be there.
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(hei's obviously struggling with the faith they share, looking away from the tired stare that's being aimed at him. he's never known noctis to be that good of an actor... maybe it's alright. maybe he should just let go — even if the boy became a regency sympathizer, he wouldn't reject him. he'd likely join him.)
Sorry, (repeated, reaching up to run a shaky hand through matted hair and leave it tousled back away from a sullen face.) I don't want you to relive it, Noctis, and I don't want to accuse you of anything. I'm just confused... I guess we both are.
(glancing back over, frown creasing between his brows and beneath his eyes. against his better judgement, risking a possible shirking from his friend, he drops his hand and grasps him by the arm. just above the elbow, tight.)
Do you need anything?
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Glad you don't want that. Really helps... [ He's being irrational and deep inside a part of him knows that, but there's no accessing logic when he's feeling this overwhelmed by an undercurrent of emotion. Everything's reaching a head and he has no idea how the hell to make it better. ]
... I'm not a spy. They showed me my dad and... some other shit. But I'm not a spy.
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there's no trusting someone who's had direct contact with someone trained in brainwashing, not before screening them first.)
I believe you. (what else is there for him to do?
he bows his head a little, hand dropping away with the gaze that was lingering on the side of his face.)
I am. For our side, whatever that means.