capeandcowllogs | i know that playing this time is going to fall on me.

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i know that playing this time is going to fall on me.

WHO: Danger/

heartlessglitch & Madison Jeffries/

engineers.
WHERE: The basement of the Institute.
WHEN: The night after Danger and Lil duke it out on the streets, and before this probably super awkward conversation.
WARNINGS: Angry robots or something.
SUMMARY: Danger is always punching Canadians.
FORMAT: Quicklog.

[ The soft blue glow coming from a corner of the basement betrays a presence that has been absent at the Institute lately. Danger chooses a late hour of the night to return to her old work station, repairing herself with meticulous and quiet precision. There's nothing but the soft scrape of metal on metal, the occasional whir and clank of a tool. No distractions. She means to be in and out within the hour-- already growing frustrated with the impracticality of this degree of self-repair. At this moment, she lacks the patience for it. She's restless in a way she can't explain or properly categorize.

It's just too soon to be back here. Too familiar.

Without fully understand her own frustration, she irritably brushes a small pile of scraps and bolts off her work bench onto the floor with a clatter, clearing space to lay the dented and damaged mess of her left arm onto the surface. The wires are showing. Lil had been uncommonly aggressive, maybe even unexpectedly so. She'd displayed the type of rage that Danger only ever saw in herself.

She tries not to identify too much. ]

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[ The hurt flashes quick in his eyes―his shoulders twitch and his leg moves back, as if about to pull away.

But she's right, absolutely right, so he doesn't. Would it even be that hard to get a insert-Omega-level-here telepath to turn him into a blank slate? Would it really be that wrong, if they knew about that mass grave somewhere under the Canadian tundra? It doesn't take a full set of completely healed neurons to know how utterly damaged every single mutant thinks he is. As if he's going to defend himself from the truth. ]

I know! I'm not the one outta all a' us t'deny that.

[ If he were leaning any closer, her eyelashes would be cutting into his cheeks. ]

If y'knew all the bad I've done to Lil, to everyone around me. Y'wouldn't be so quick t'get on her case a-and so quick t'get off mine.

[ Frustration swells inside of her. It's almost comfortingly familiar, her own rage-- painful, but in a way she can cope with and understand. How simple it was, to be new, and to only know how to feel a handful of consuming things. Anger and hate. Emotions she could name and categorize. But this anger is tinged in something more bitter, elements she recognizes from other feelings, like regret and jealousy, love and loneliness.

Her fingers close around his upper arms, not rough, but not gentle either-- firm, when she pushes, easing him away from her, pointedly making a greater space between them before she responds. ]

You are wrong.
That does not matter.
You are overcomplicating the circumstances of this conflict.
There are two primary facts of any relevance:
Firstly, that we love you and wish to be with you.
Secondly, that the first is impossible for us both to have.

[ The determined fury behind his eyes feels so intense, uncontrollable, that he doesn't even feel her grip on his arms. When Danger pushes, though―his hands lift up, just a little, ready to stop her on instinct because he has to keep his resolve, or else, but. They fall back to his sides, feet moving back.

Everything seems to cool, as if someone lifted a lid to a hot kettle and the steam lifted out. Even the skin of his forehead seems to lose its tension, relaxing from painful strain. That's what he needs: to relax.

His challenging gaze breaks, moves away. His voice still hasn't abandoned some of that hostility, pride. ]

I know that part.

[ Imploringly: ]

What d'you want me to do, Danger? What d'you think I should do?

[ Danger lets go when she's sure he won't fight her, folding her arms across her chest instead -- conscious and careful, still, with the damage that remains unrepaired. ]

What I want you to do and what I think you should do are not equivalent.

[ She lingers a moment before turning away to return to her work station. ]

There is not a "right" answer.
You must decide what sacrifice must be made.

No, there's gotta be.

[ He reaches for her shoulder, fingers gripping and nudging her to face him again. Not that it matters how harsh it is, of course―she isn't Lil.

He can't hurt her. ]

I'm sick a' makin' sacrifices that end up hurtin' everyone.

[ And he's done, he stop himself from saying. ]

[ Instinctively, tension rises in her posture when she's touched-- her attention focusing on him sharply, suddenly. She eyes him, hard and calculating for a long moment before responding. ]

Emotional pain is inevitable.
That cannot be avoided.
Someone will be hurt regardless of what choices are made.

[ A pause. Then perhaps with a tinge of earnestness, something at once both frustrated and honest: ]

I have tried to make it easier.
I have tried to be accepting of these circumstances.
But these feelings are very difficult.
And I cannot force myself to be satisfied.

[ The scrutiny strikes a note of discomfort within him, but his grip holds tight nonetheless. A blur of thoughts, considerations, none of them at all well-constructed or complete, run in his mind. There's only one he vocalizes, in a sincere murmur as he looks at her, through her. ]

Maybe I should leave her for you.

[ A sharp breath, through his teeth.

Weeks on end, cheating on his fiancé―a distant memory, distorted from trauma. It's the same sort of guilt, even just thinking it and letting those words slip off his tongue. ]

[ immediately, sharply: ]

Do not say that lightly.
Do not say that without thinking.

[ She can't explain why hearing that makes her emotions rise so suddenly, and why her instinct is to respond with aggression, defensiveness. ]

You do not mean that.

I do mean that.

[ No, he doesn't.

Maybe not in that sense. Or maybe in a sense, in a subconscious sense. Everything he plausibly wants is confused and the meanings of everything are so undefined it's driving him crazy. He knows he's thinking crazy. ]

Maybe. No, I don't―I don't know.

[ Struggling, he repeats it. ]

I don't know.

[ She brushes him off, forcing his grip from her with impatience, turning her head away because it hurts and she doesn't know why-- it's frustrating to not know why. An unidentified error can't be fixed. These feelings can't be purged like a virus, or even beaten into submission.

Finally, simply: ]

Go home, Madison Jeffries.

No. I'm not... I ain't gonna...

[ It's uttered when he's already putting distance between them, feet turning into yards―a stretch of lab is already separating the two of them out of what he feels like nowhere, no time at all. Distance is always the theme. They meet, they're far apart. ]

Did y'get what you want?

[ The loud words echo across the hallowed walls. ]

Are y'repaired?

[ It's all a perpetual build up. She feels as though she's on the edge of something she can't properly process-- the brink, maybe, of the place where a human being might scream or cry. But Danger just stands still, her frustration only betrayed by tension in her body, beyond mechanical rigidness, and something vaguely dissatisfied in her face.

She would answer, maybe, if her pride would allow her to say out loud what she wanted. But it feels too much like exposure, like revealing a weakness or a secret. To even want to be loved feels like a flaw, and to fear loneliness aggravates her, stirring up memories of awakening to nothingness and asking that one question, never to be answered. ]

How should I repair myself?

[ With the distance opening up so physically between them, she is suddenly and vividly aware of how much she misses him. ]

Should I cease to love you?

[ That moment of fury, that moment of closeness and contact earlier made the world seem like a blur of passion, a world at a turn: now, everything feels so slow. The lethargy of the night is finally getting to Madison.

And he sincerely wishes that everything would be calm again. Just, again, a time in between arguments and fighting and mutually assured misery, something resembling peace. A moment of happiness. Those seem like a distant memory, like something out of the history books. For him, for Danger, for Lil―is anything even achievable?

It might not even be worth trying anymore. ]

Can you?

[ It's not an appeal. It's simply as sincere as it can get. ]

'Cuz if y'can stop lovin' me, you'd have t'teach me t'do the same for you. 'Cuz I can't.

[ Another little swell of something like-- longing. Something with elements of loneliness, recognizable similarities to love, bits and fragments of emotional binary that overlap and are at the same time, distinct. Derivatives. Amalgams. Syntheses. An ever more complex code construct, growing with each experience-- some more painful than others.

Frustration crosses her face again. Anger tinges her tone, even though she doesn't raise her voice-- anger, because she doesn't know how else to express what she's feeling. ]

It would require a destruction of my very code, a lobotomy of the binary that defines me.
I would not be myself.

[ A tense pause. ]

As I am, I will continue to have these feelings for you indefinitely.
This is the inconvenient truth.

[ His mouth twitches. There's something fundamentally exhausted in his eye, but also a glint of something hopeful, something empathetic. ]

Suppose we nearly are the same.

[ Slowly, he edges toward the door. The uncertainty of his thoughts echo in his footsteps. He wants to leave but he doesn't want to leave her and he doesn't want to stay but he doesn't want to―

He glances over his shoulder to utter a solemn and earnest promise. ]

I'm gonna find a way for us t'be together, D.

[ She takes one step closer, then stops still. There's something vaguely uncertain in her face, or perhaps something harder than uncertainty, like frustration, maybe doubt. Maybe she has too little faith in the promises of human beings to fully trust that somehow, against all calculated odds, they will find a way.

But she's timeless, ageless, eternal. If there's one thing she can do-- ]

I will wait for you, Madison.

[ His torso swivels a little, when she moves that tiny distance closer―as if he's prepared to stop and run into her arms to embrace her, all of a sudden, discarding all those notions and those obligations. God knows he wants to.

Instead, he just gives her a solemn look and turns away, walking out on the both of them. He doesn't want to go home. ]

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i know that playing this time is going to fall on me.

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