Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, Earth 10005, Friday Morning Fandom Time I Swear

[wwiii]

Warren sat in the grass near one of the community gardens where the majority of the survivors of Alcatraz had been herded to once more soldiers and paramedics arrived. Because Warren, Jr. was there, they had been given first priority seating on the helicopter, along with Hank, who worked with Karla to set Warren's wing.

Leech had stayed with the rest of the X-Men, who had seemed pretty keen on keeping an eye on him anyhow. They'd come trickling into the park a few hours later, once the more seriously injured had been sorted out and sent off to any medical facility in the city that didn't currently have a gaggle of anti-cure protesters camped outside the front door. Or, rather, most of the X-Men had. Logan was a little preoccupied with some more personal matters back on Alcatraz.

The worst of it was over, then, and the early rays of sunshine were almost surreal, too good to be true after the hell that had broken loose throughout the night. In the distance, the twisted remains of the Golden Gate Bridge stood as an eerie monument to the whole ordeal.

Warren gave his wings an experimental stretch, hissed between his teeth, and folded them at his back again. Still sore. Healing. But sore.

"And this is why I don't want to be a superhero," he grumbled under his breath, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Karla	Karla, who was not the beneficiary of sped-up Healing and still felt far too mentally fuzzy to do Craft, now looked far worse the wear of the two. Even after she'd managed to wash the dried blood off of her face, she was still battered and bruised, with the beginnings of a black eye, a swollen lip, an impressive case of road-rash on one arm and a decent chunk of her back, and bruises left behind from getting slammed into by a round of cure darts. This was not exactly the condition she wanted to be in to make an impassioned plea for their relationship, no. Still. At least they were all alive? And not broken down into their component atoms? "I might be giving serious thought to permanently hanging up my Mistress Mayhem suit, yeah," she agreed. "Though that leather might have saved me from some of this stuff." Turned out skidding a few feet on pavement was not the best for one's skin, no.
Warren	Nooo, it definitely wasn't. Pavement, as a general rule, was made more for traction on car ties than for letting skin glide over it unscathed. "Maybe we should have approached them before they left after all," Warren noted. "It looked like their clothing was made for this kind of damage." Well, except for Hank's open vest number. That didn't really look as though it was made for much of anything at all. "Where did you get the worst of it?" He bit his lip, looking over at her. "I tried to hang on when we hit, I swear. I just kind of slipped, somewhere in there..." Yes. He was feeling guilty for letting go while his bones had been shattering inside of him and puncturing his internal organs in new and interesting ways. So sue him.
Karla	Karla turned a glare on him, but that softened almost immediately. "Considering what happened to you?. I think I got off pretty lightly." She reached up and gently caressed his cheek--she thought she could get away with at least that much now. "I know you tried. I just wish I could have thought of something else to do instead. I'm so sorry." See? They'd both failed. Or something.
Warren	Warren's eyebrow lifted slightly at that. Wait, she was apologizing for... What? "I'm pretty sure we'd be just as busted up if we hit the water," he noted, hesitating for a moment before raising a hand to clasp softly over hers. "And then we would have drowned, on top of it. Which would have probably been less fun." A lot. "I can help you with some of that road-rash, if it's really bad..."
Karla	Karla smiled, more at his hand on hers than his offer, though that was nice, too. "Don't worry about me," she said, with a slight shake of her head. "You just focus on moving without wincing, okay?" She'd Heal herself just as soon as she could focus again. Apparently, having Omega-class mutants screaming in your brain and following that up with spraining it trying to yank a bridge to you was a spectacularly bad idea if you wanted to do Craft later. "How are you?" she asked softly. "Beyond physically, I mean."
Warren	"... Honestly...?" Warren sighed and glanced around, frowning a little more still. "Sitting in a park surrounded by, like six other mutants who don't want me dead, a bunch of guys who spent a good part of last night shooting at me, and a whole bunch of mutant and shiny-new human rioters in handcuffs. I don't think my dad gets why I'm so angry at him right now, and I'm too big to fit under my bed and not come out again when we get back home." Home being Fandom, because his own reality was becoming less and less that with every passing second.
Karla	"Are you going to to try to explain it to him?" Karla asked, her eyes on the male in question. "Because here he comes."
Warren Worthington Jr.	As much as he'd wanted to stay by his son's side, Warren Jr. had been required to make statement after statement: first for the deployed National Guard, then the police in their riot gear, then to the president's aides, and finally to the curious media, who were circling around like hungry sharks. It didn't matter that there were several X-Men present, including one who had, until very recently, been a member of the president's Cabinet. Warren Jr had been the ranking human left standing and so only his explanations would do, at least at first. And this was why he couldn't understand the mutant outrage against the cure. Why would any power be enough to make up for the immediate demotion to second-class citizen? Finally, though, enough reports had been filed and questions answered that he could be free to go take care of his first priority. "Warren," he said, sounding relieved as he hurried over to where his son and his girlfriend were standing. "How are you. Please tell me you're all right." He didn't want to admit it, but the sight of Karla and Dr. McCoy rebreaking Warren's wings to get them to set correctly had taken him right back to that day in the bathroom.
Warren	"I'm still healing," Warren murmured, his eyes falling to the ground. Oh, god, he wasn't ready for this. "But I think I'll be okay. Everything's working, anyhow." Granted, all he was really worried about were his wings. He could spend the next month hacking up blood clots and he wouldn't care, just so long as his wings worked. "Still not exactly thrilled about any of this, though." He'd promised there would be yelling, earlier. He was... kind of warming himself up for that.
Warren Worthington Jr.	"Perhaps you should come back to New York for a few days," Warren Jr suggested. "Your room is exactly the way you, uh, left it. A few days at home while you recover might do you some good." This sounded eminently reasonable to him. "You know we have some of the finest doctors on staff if you think you'd like one to take a look at you and make sure everything is set correctly." His face clouded over with grief as he added, "Though Kavita is no longer with us. Those insane people killed her before taking me up to the roof. I'm sure her family would appreciate your presence at her funeral. They know how devoted she was to helping us."
Karla	Karla ground her teeth together at the implication that Warren needed a real doctor to make sure the work she'd done on him was correct, but kept her mouth closed. This was between Warren and his father; it didn't concern her at all. That tic in her cheek had always been there. Shut up.
Warren	Warren was silent again. Dr. Rao? They'd... She'd been... not unkind to him. Warren wouldn't say that she was one of his favorite people in the world, but that she'd died in all of this was a bit of a gutshot all the same. "I'll come back for her funeral," he settled on, finally. "Get me the date and time and place, and I'll be there. But I had Karla and Dr. McCoy looking after me. Karla's one of the most skilled Healers in her world and Hank is one of the most brilliant scientific minds in ours. Between them and the way I'm made, I don't think there's anything your doctors can do for me that they haven't done already." He swallowed, heavily. He'd have to hide his wings for the funeral. Showing up and flaunting his mutation when Kavita had been murdered by mutants over a cure that had been started with him in mind would be... ... Something. "Dad, did you see some of the weapons they were using back there?"
Warren Worthington Jr.	That was...not where Warren Jr had been expecting the conversation to go. In fact, he'd been digging in his pocket for his phone so he could call the housekeepers that took care of the Worthington penthouse so they would know to give Warren's room an extra scrub down and make sure to stock the fridge with his favorite foods. "I did," he said. He'd slapped them down to keep them from shooting at his son, after all. "The ones the soldiers carried?"
Warren	"Yeah." A beat. "And the three-barrel plastic cannons that they were using to fire off dozens of darts at once." Because, you know, that was something they'd clearly come up with in an afternoon.
Warren Worthington Jr.	"They were designed by the Pentagon, I think," Warren Jr said, still not following. "No one at the facility had been armed with those until the soldiers arrived." Where was he going with this? Did Warren want one? Because Jr could make that happen if he did!
Warren	Warren made twin fists at that, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as his claws bit into his palms. "You... The Pentagon... They just..." Okay. That wasn't working. He fell silent for a moment, pulling in another deep breath while he gathered his thoughts. "The cure... it went public much, much faster than most drugs that Worthington Labs develops ever do. I mean, you started working on it ten years ago. How...?" It would have needed some kind of serious government backing. A lot of wheedling to get past red tape. Warren had kind of assumed that his father had slipped someone in a position of power a lot of money to push it through faster. After all, who cared about anything that might happen to a bunch of mutants if they were to take it anyhow? But now he wasn't so sure.
Warren Worthington Jr.	Oh. Oh. Could they maybe go back to Warren yelling at him about the ethical quandaries of the cure itself? Because the answers to his unasked questions were enough to make Warren, Jr. feel very small indeed. "I had to make certain concessions," he admitted heavily. "To get it pushed through the FDA. But you know what they're like, son! It would have been decades before they'd allow the cure to be used--decades of fear and hate and self-loathing! I knew it worked and I just wanted it to be available to those who needed it! Who still had their whole lives ahead of them!" To Warren. "But you have to understand, I never thought they'd use it like that!"
Warren	Warren wasn't capable of the cold rage that the Blood sometimes fell into, strong enough to chill a room, but the look that he gave his father was icy all the same. If he could cut the man open with just that look, he would have. His fists tightened all the more. "They've been trying to register and eliminate us for years." Us. Not them. Warren was mutant, too. Mutant and proud, and he spread his wings slightly as he spoke in spite of the pain to show that there was no question about that fact in the least. His father was afraid of them. Fine. But he couldn't keep drawing that line and putting Warren in a category all his own. He wouldn't let him try, this time. "And you didn't think they would try to weaponize this."
Warren Worthington Jr.	"It wouldn't have mattered!" Warren Jr. protested. "Because once the cure was available..." Who wouldn't want it? It was a cure! Even the angry proud types like Magneto and Mystique would surely have come around when they realized they could once again be normal!
Warren	Both of them were 'normal' now anyhow. Warren doubted that either of them were particularly pleased about that. "It was supposed to be optional. A chance for people that this gene has hurt to go back to living a real life." And maybe in a few situations, Warren could see the draw. Some people had powers that hurt themselves, had powers that made it impossible for them to ever know the touch of another human being, or they had horribly disfiguring physical mutations. He'd lucked out, growing wings. Except that his wings made it impossible to hide what he was. And there was the real problem, wasn't it? "But when you stop and look at it, for the most part it isn't the gene that's hurt us, is it? It's the homo sapiens who can't accept that we have it in the first place."
Warren Worthington Jr.	"It's a corruption of healthy cellular activity!" Warren Jr argued before he could help himself. He'd had this argument many, many times before. If only in his own mind.
Warren	Warren nearly roared at that. Nearly reared up, flaring his wings, screaming for all and sundry to hear that he was not a disease. He took a slow, deep breath. "It's evolution." His fists were so tight now that if one cared to look, they could see his claws threatening to break clean through the backs of his hands.
Karla	Still silent, Karla came up and stroked her fingers down one arm, then went to take his hand in hers. Clenched fist or not, bleeding or not, girlfriend or not, she was going to be here and support him. There was nothing wrong with him. He was glorious and wonderful and if his father couldn't see that--if the world couldn't see that, it was their fault, not his.
Warren Worthington Jr.	"It's a danger!" Warren Jr shouted, ignoring Karla, ignoring the avid glances from the passerby, even ignoring the media's insatiable curiosity. All that mattered was reaching his son. While he still could. "You saw what those people tried to do to me! What they did to the facility! You didn't see what they did to Kavita, and that's a blessing!"
Warren	"Those people." There was still that separation. He wasn't a mutant. He was Warren. And everyone else, everyone else was lumped into that other category. The sick. The corruptions. The terrorists. "When have I ever hurt anyone? The people who stormed the facility were an organized mob. How many more mutants opted to stay home? How many more didn't want that trouble? Just being a mutant didn't make me into a killer. Did you see what those people," he wrenched his free hand open and pointed a blood-streaked finger at a handful of soldiers who were standing nearby, "did to them in exchange for all that? When most people break the law, they just get arrested, Dad!"
Warren Worthington Jr.	"This wasn't what I'd meant to happen!" Why didn't his son realize that? Why was he so willing to believe the best of everyone except his own father. "I made agreements with the government in order to speed things through with the FDA, but I didn't agree to all of this!" He'd just...given them samples of the cure and had asked no questions. "If I hadn't agreed, it would have been years...decades...before the cure would have been available!" Did Warren really want to think about even longer stuck inside the house or harnessed when he ventured outside?
Warren	He already had. He'd thought about it long and hard, and when he spoke, there couldn't be more of a chill in his words if Bobby had been around to help out. "Yeah. And then you would have kept me locked up until I was fifty."
Warren Worthington Jr.	"For your own good!" Warren Jr bellowed. "You think I wanted to keep you in the house? No! I just wanted you to have a normal life. With friends! And girlfriends! And...things a normal boy should have. None of that was possible while you still had your wings!"
Karla	Karla coughed once. Not because of the little bits of people still stuck in her throat, but one of those I'm right here coughs. You know. In case Warren Jr had forgotten.
Warren	And at that, Warren was rearing up, spreading his wings out wide. "I have friends! I have a-" He glanced at Karla. They weren't. Not technically. They had a lot of talking to do, a lot of sorting to do. He couldn't just go and make the assumption that she was his girlfriend now. "-normal life! I've been going to school with kids my age for two years now, Dad. And if they don't care what I look like, who are you to decide that I'm any less human than you are? I'm your goddamn son! If you're so damn convinced that I'm a freak of nature, keep in mind that it was you who gave me these genes in the first place!"
Warren Worthington Jr.	"And you had to go to a completely different world to have those things!" The fear and concern he'd been feeling was rapidly being subsumed by exasperation and even a bit of true anger. How dare Warren just rattle off complaints as if he knew half of what his father had done for him. Though he was not about to touch that gene comment for love nor money. "Do you really think you could have had it here? You're the scion of a very wealthy family! You'd have been hounded as an example to others! I protected you!"
Warren	"You hid me! And maybe that was okay when I was a little kid, but I'm almost twenty now. I think it's my turn to decide whether or not I need protection." There were cameras rolling now, there were photographers circling around them and journalists running audio recorders and Warren was making a point to speak out loud and clear, now. He held his wings open wide, bent and broken feathers and all. He held his hands out, too, his palms healing over. His shirt was gone entirely, his pants were in bloodied tatters. Fine. Let the whole damn world see him like this. "Here I am. Warren Worthington the Third. I'm not sick. I'm not a terrorist or a murderer or even dangerous. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm a mutant, I have a working pair of wings and hollow bones and I haven't had a cold since I was seven years old. I'm just a kid. I want to be one, and still be allowed to be me, for a change. I am sick and tired of hiding, and a cure that my father made with me in mind is being used as a weapon, and maybe if that's the way this world is going to be, I don't want any part of it."
Warren Worthington Jr.	Oh God. His son just turned this into a photo op. And there was not a single camera in the park that was not obliging him. He could almost hear the sound of the stocks for Worthington Labs plummeting. "It wasn't meant to be a weapon!" he exclaimed, trying to do something--anything--to salvage the situation. "I made it to help people! But to deal with dangerous threats--people like Magneto and Mystique, not like my son--the government felt the need to take steps. Steps I never authorized!"
Warren	"You authorized them the second you made the cure available to the government without thinking about the consequences." Warren's wings folded at his back, slowly, feathers bristling. He lowered his arms, looking over at the handcuffed former mutants, all of them looking so much more lost and broken than the small fraction of their counterparts who still had their powers. Like their humanity had been stripped away, even though it was humanity that had been forced on them. "Live with that." He turned to Karla, offering her his hand. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Karla	"Warren, I..." Karla shook her head, and took his hand. This was not the time or place. Perhaps later, when he was less angry and the consequences were less immediate. "Let's go." And in Jr's head, she sent, *I will try to talk to him. But you lost whatever small ground you'd gained and more besides.*
Warren Worthington Jr.	Warren visibly started when he heard Karla's voice in his head. "Wait--Warren," he tried, holding out his hand. "Come back here and discuss this like an adult! This is hardly the time for theatrics!"
Warren	Warren just shook his head, looking at his father a moment longer before closing his hand around Karla's, turning, and starting to walk past the men who were still standing nearby, cradling their plastic weapons. He had to. Needed to make his exit on foot, head held high, without flinching. Had to let them all see that they might be able to take what he was away from him in a heartbeat, but he was never going to admit to the likes of them that he was afraid.
Karla	Karla let him have his moment of fearlessness, keeping her head high and expression haughty as they walked--or, limped, in her case--past. But she had a shield around him anyway, because she wasn't about to take a chance with his wings. Not ever. Even in the heat of her fury, she had not touched his wings. "Where are we going?" she murmured as the crowd parted for them.
Warren	"Anywhere," Warren murmured, squeezing her hand a little as he moved past the crowd, and then pulled her up into his arms the moment they were clear, not hesitating before crouching and launching the both of them into the sky. His wings still hurt, the muscles in his back screaming at him to land. He ignored it. They wouldn't be aloft long. "Anywhere that isn't right there. I might just touch down on a roof somewhere and... and take a minute." To cry. To curl up in pain. To breathe. A lot of things.
Karla	Karla held him tightly, glad for the excuse to touch him and embrace him, even if only under the guise of holding on for flight. "Take all the time you need," she said quietly. "Take all the time you need. I'm not in a hurry to go anywhere. Not without you, anyway." She meant that. For more than just today.
Warren	Warren gave her a small, thankful smile, flying just a few blocks before landing on one of only a handful of rooftops that didn't have a doorway leading up to it. Really, the last thing he wanted was some kind of interruption while he had some kind of... complete mental break or something. He set her down softly. And then pulled in a shaking breath. "He..." Warren ran his hands through his hair, bloody though they were, and shook his head. "He isn't going to ever get it. Is he?"
Karla	"He might," she offered softly as her feet touched the roof. She unwrapped her arms from around his waist, but didn't really step back. She had a reason to stay up in his personal space and she was going to take it. "But not for awhile. Not when he has what he thinks is 'proof' for why the cure is needed."
Warren	He nodded, his eyes looking down from the rooftop toward the bay, parts of the island still billowing almost lazily with smoke. "His cure provoked that." He wasn't stepping back, either. She was welcome to stay right where she was. He didn't condone what had happened on that island. Any of what had happened there. But that didn't mean he wasn't trying to understand why.
Karla	"It will be awhile before he can accept that," Karla told him, following his eyes. So many people had died and for what? Because one male could not handle his son having wings. Though, in fairness, Karla believed that even if Warren Jr. had not done as he had. Jono's and Bobby's worlds were proof of that. ...None of which would make Warren feel any better. "You heard him. 'It was the government' 'I had to.' Until he can think of the X-gene as being something that doesn't need a cure, he'll be resistant to the idea."
Warren	Warren shook his head a little. It wasn't just that, it was... "He won't even own up to the fact that he did this. Like the second he handed it off, he was absolved of all responsibility." That was what was killing him. It wasn't his father's fault. Someone else had made those big, horrible choices. See, he hadn't, and he had only good intentions for 'those people,' and Warren should be proud to be his son after all of this. Instead of feeling sick inside because, when all of the rest of it was peeled away, this was all still because of him.
Karla	Karla reached for his hand. Partially because the time had come for her to say what she'd been meaning to for this whole time, and in part just because it was impossible to see him hurting so and not try to comfort him. "Sometimes..." she hesitated, then just blundered ahead. "Sometimes it takes time for people to realize they made a mistake. And even longer to admit it aloud and apologize." She flushed, dropping her gaze. "That doesn't meant they can't though. Or that they won't."
Warren	Mistakes? Warren's hand closed around hers, and his eyes lingered there for a long moment before he glanced back up again, biting his lip. "Karla, I..."
Karla	"No, let me, please," Karla said, forcing her eyes back up to meet his. "I'm sorry. So sorry. For the things I said and the things I did to you. I was hurtful and cruel and most of what I said was untrue--and all of it was unkind." Calling him a coward. Telling him it was over. Saying she'd hated him. The last hadn't been untrue when she'd said it, but it had been the unkindest thing of all. "So, just--one more time--I need to say I'm sorry, Warren. I'm so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have--what I said to you. There's no reason for me to have said them. I was wrong and awful and I'm so, so, sorry. I will understand if you're still angry. I'll understand if you have to work to forgive me, to get over what I'd said. But I need to say it anyway."
Warren	His mouth opened a little, and for a moment, Warren couldn't find words. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing was really leaping to mind except for pointless nothing-in-particulars, like 'it's been a long month,' and 'I understand.' Finally, he just settled for stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. "I know. I'm sorry, too."
Karla	"You--you are?" Karla asked, sinking gratefully into that hug. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate one. Or want one, either. But she hadn't expected to get one. Everyone else had thought she was completely in the wrong. That Warren had done everything correctly and that she was crazy for even being mad in the first place. Mother Night. This hug was amazing.
Warren	And he wasn't about to let go. Not now, and probably not any time even remotely soon. "Karla, I love you." He had to get that out there, first and foremost. He knew she'd been trying to make her peace with him since before they left, but he'd been so preoccupied, so worried, he was afraid that everything would just cave in on itself and break. But now? Now he had to make certain there was no shadow of doubt that he still cared. "And... And I'm sorry... I am. For... for taking away your choice when you had your reasons for wanting to go. There was just... no time, and you were right there and I didn't think, I just needed to know you were safe. Even if it meant you hated me. You had to stay safe." There was another moment's pause before he added, softly, "But I'm not sorry for holding you back. Not if it meant you were still alive."
Karla	There were tears in Karla's eyes and she was doing everything in her power to hold them back. She wished she were brave enough to risk a kiss, but she's not that certain, yet. He still loved her, yes; but that didn't mean he forgave her. Instead she buried her face in his neck and whispered, "I don't hate you anymore. I don't. I swear it." But words are just words. And she knew Warren; knew him enough to know that words wouldn't be enough. Not now, not after everything. So she opened a link with him, sharing the good and the bad. There was still hurt there, and the fading remains of her anger. He had taken away her choice, after all. There was lingering confusion and worry and a bit of fear. There's also relief and hope. But more than anything else, there was love. Bright and golden and bubbling up like the core of a honeypear. "I love you, too," she murmured. "So very much. Even when I hated you--" and she had, she wouldn't have said it just to hurt him, "--I loved you all the same. You're a part of me. You always will."
Warren	Warren's eyes drifted closed as her emotions swept over him, as he felt every last bit of her love, her worry, her anger. And as she spoke, his arms just tightened a little more around her, and his heart felt more and more like it was going to just leap from his chest. And... and... "Did I do the wrong thing?" They were here now. The world wasn't falling apart, and she'd been one of those who had a hand in saving it. In retrospect, what he did had helped save reality. But he wasn't asking about the afterthought.
Karla	Karla wasn't thinking about it, either. "I...don't know. If you ask the coven, they'd say yes. I had a duty to my people and you kept me from it. You ask the boyos? Lucivar would probably be at the head of the pack, congratulating you. You served, Warren. Protected. Honored and cherished. You obeyed the first law. You kept me safe and we were able to reverse what happened. You gambled on that. But if we hadn't been able to...I don't know what would have happened to me." Or the two of them. She didn't...she didn't think she'd have been able to forgive him though. She would have loved him and hated him at the same time.
Warren	"But you did reverse it," he murmured. "Didn't just stop it, or I wouldn't be here, either." And that had been entirely worth it, too. "If you hadn't been able to undo it, I guess we all would have been lost to it, anyhow."
Karla	"Don't say that," Karla pleaded. "I don't even want to think about that. I turned around and you were just..." Gone. He'd been gone. Unexpectedly taken from here and she hadn't even realized it was happening until it was too late. Irony was a real bitch sometimes. "If we hadn't managed to beat it and reverse it, I want to say I would have been furious up until the Nothing claimed us, too. But--when I looked and saw the forcefield up and you were gone..." She hadn't been angry then. She'd had a grief too deep and all-consuming for tears. "Does it matter anymore?" she asked. "I forgive you. For everything. And I hope, in time, you can forgive me for what I said--for what I did."
Warren	She hoped he could...? Oh, Karla. He was shaking his head, eyes turned down toward the ground all over again. "I forgave you. I forgive you. I mean... the things you said... they hurt. But it isn't like I ever thought there was something you needed to be forgiven for in the first place." Because Warren was a mess of issues who was going to internalize everything, and there wasn't a thing you could say or do to stop him, damn it.
Karla	Please pardon Karla for a moment while her brain stuttered to a stop and took a moment to reboot. "What?!" she asked, pulling back just far enough so she could gape at him. "What do you mean, nothing to forgive? I hurt you. I said the worst things I could ever think to say. I'm pretty sure I kicked you hard enough to make Kayla and Nommy a pipe-dream. And that's just okay with you?" Karla didn't actually remember all of what she'd done to Warren physically. Everything had been panic and struggle. But she remembered putting that technique of Lucivar's to effective use.
Warren	Warren had been spitting up bits of his own insides for the past few hours. A solid kick to the groin had hurt. A lot. And then it got better. ... Thank goodness. "You meant those things, Karla. I can't be angry at you for saying what you mean. And I'm the reason you said those things at all. What I was doing."
Karla	Karla was echoing that sentiment in her own mind. Thank the merciful Darkness. "But you were doing what you thought was best. What was best--at least, what turned out to be best in the end." Forgive her, Warren. Her brain was still fuzzy from being in same proximity as Jean. Of course, the most important point needed to be restated. "I might have meant them then, but I don't anymore."
Warren	He looked up at that, offering her a tentative smile. No, he knew that. He knew all of that, and just maybe wasn't getting his point across quite right. "And if you said them right now, just to be spiteful, then I would be angry about it. That's different."
Karla	"I would never say something like just just to be--oh." Karla, please meet Warren's point. She was quiet for a long moment then said, "I want to be the kind of person who doesn't hurt her boyfriend that way, I think. No matter what the circumstances. And, I know what I said then, but--I don't want it to be over between us. I don't. I still love you, Warren. I never stopped. Not really. Underneath the hurt and anger and hate, there was still love there. I swear it." She'd just needed some time to realize it.
Warren	"I know." He did. He'd hurt her and he'd been hurt, and he'd tried to give her her space, he'd needed room to breathe, himself. But when he'd grabbed her into his arms, when he tried to outrun the Nothing with her in tow, she'd been worried about him. He knew. "Karla?"
Karla	"Even--even if you're not mad, it doesn't mean those weren't the kind of words that can't change things between people. I'll--I'll understand if they changed things between us." Karla was babbling now. Her words spilling out in a torrent. She wanted to lay her whole heart on the line now, let him know everything. Show him she understood the enormity of what she'd done. It was important--he had to know that she was sorry. That she had learned. That if he somehow managed to entrust her with his heart again, this wouldn't happen a second time. "You know I didn't come here with you because I thought it would help us, right? I mean, I hoped it would, but--I'd've come even if you said there was no chance of us being together anymore." And then he said her name and the torrent stopped. It felt almost like everything had stopped, even her heartbeat. Everything, even her very existence was hanging on what he said next. "Y-yes?" Did she really want to know what he was going to say next? Could she handle a gentle let-down? The promise that they'd still be friends, but...? Did it matter?
Warren	He reached a hand up, pressed his fingers against her lips, and offered her a smile. What she was saying... it was good to hear, too. And it was all things that he already knew. She was too... too real to just go with him in the hope that she'd be able to win him back. If she was here and helping him, she was here because she wanted him to be helped. "Mine." And then he was moving his hand away, and leaning forward to press his lips against hers.

[And that's pretty much all she wrote of the plotty things of plottiness! NFB, NFI, preplayed with glacial_witch, who coded this up, too. OOC is welcome. And cookies. I love cookies.]

Comments

[heromaniac]

*LOVES*

[wwiii]

[OMG. THAT ONE IN THE FRONT WITH THE ALMOND AND PECAN AND WALNUT AND HAZELNUT AND GIANT CHUNKS OF CHOCOLATE. I NEED THAT COOKIE IN MY LIFE.]

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

[... I'll see what I can do. :D ]

[furnaceface]

[YAAAAY YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE.]

[nothornlessrose.livejournal.com]

[[YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!]]

[nothornlessrose.livejournal.com]

I need these cookies!

[dollpocalypse]

[[I CHANGED MY MIND. IF THERE ARE NUT COOKIES INVOLVED, YOU CAN JUST UNDO IT RIGHT NOW.]]

[wwiii]

[[NO. MY COOKIES.]]

[wwiii]

[[HOORAAAAAAY!]]

[trigons_child]

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

[wwiii]

Omg. What kind of cookie is that? IT LOOKS AMAZING.

[trigons_child]

*GASP* YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE A SNICKERDOODLE?

If you tell me you've never had them I am going to bake a batch and send it to you.

Not made with people. *shifty eyes*

[wwiii]

*Hangs head in so much shame*

[trigons_child]

This will be remedied after the holidays bb.

[furnaceface]

\o/ COOKIES.