capeandcowllogs | Without you here there's no use...

Without you here there's no use...

WHO: Raven and Rimmer
WHERE: Lake Placid, NY (their house)
WHEN: Sometime after Tony's post
WARNINGS: Language probably ._.
SUMMARY: Raven's pledged her hand in helping any way she can, and her husband-to-be is a scaredy cat that wants to stick his head in the sand. Let's see how this goes.
FORMAT: Para

Raven remembered was it was like. The HIVE had struck shortly after she first arrived in the City, and it had been a complete shock to her. She'd been through wars, mostly against her own flesh and blood, but still... so many superheroes involved at once, and sitting in a healing area, barely able to do a thing? She wanted to be more proactive now.
Oh, sure, she had mentioned to her fiance that she'd like nothing more than to cower in the back corners with him, but something about the way Tony Stark had phrased things had ignited a flame in her.

As much as she tried to get away from it, as much as she desired to be 'normal', she was still trained as a hero. Maybe she always was a hero, wanting nothing more than to save her people from the threat of her father for all those years.

SMACK.
It rang out through the basement like a clap of thunder during a late spring storm. Her fist collided with the punching bag two or three more times, before she even bothered to flip back and land a full kick onto it, nearly making the bottom of the bag swing up to the ceiling. She'd be ready this time. She wouldn't just sit idly by and watch in horror. She'd do something, protect people, and fight.
Raven briefly wished she had spent a little more money putting the various workout equipment in the basement. It would never be up to the Tower's standards, but it was something, at least...

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And then there was Arnold. Arnold Judas Rimmer, the man who was so cowardly he'd faint at the sight of blood, who'd hide under the scannerscope table when under attack by GELFs, the man who'd run a mile if there was a fight in a pub. This cowardly little git of a man who was, frankly, about as yellow as a herd of elephants who'd had multiple gallons of diuretic each.

And, hey, look at that. Now the woman he was marrying, the woman who had told him she wanted nothing more than a normal life well away from the ridiculousness of the spandex and superhero set, was pledging her help to Tony Stark's cause. For the first time, first time in his entire existence, really, he wanted to slap her. His brothers had pounded into him at an early age that it was "sissy" to hit girls, and damned underhanded at that, so for all his moral lapses, Rimmer did not hit women. Never had been temped. Until tonight. Because this felt like a slap in the face to him. That what they were building here meant so little to her that she'd sign up to potentially throw her life away over a few pretty words said by a few testosterone-poisoned people.

He. Was going. To strangle. Stark. Or...not. No, he'd chicken out and offer up one of those smug little smirks of his, where his lips were turned up but the expression in his eyes was pure hate.

He knew where she was. And he'd heard her down there in the basement for a while, doing violent things to an innocent punching bag that had never done anything to her. And as the minutes ticked by, and he felt himself more in control of his temper, he finally made his way down there.

Livid.

Seething.

He'd never been this angry with her ever, and since he lived at a perpetual boil of anger at all times, that was saying something.

Raven always had her empathy on full blast when it came to Arnold. She'd laugh when he laughed, cry when he cried, fume when he fumed, even if it was on the other side of the planet at the time. Of course, being in close proximately to him would always make it stronger, as logic dictated, and that was no different now.

She smacked that punching back over and over again, and with every little step he took that got him closer to her, she hit it harder, becoming more and more intense and focused on her target. She hadn't felt this way in months, not since she was back in her own world, fighting against the cults that so openly worshiped her father. He was halfway down the stairs when she landed that one blow, the one that caused her to stumble back, gripping onto her wrist with a harsh inhale through her nose. She'd hit it too hard, and at a careless angle. Great, now she'd have to back off for at least an hour, if not more.

Then she noticed him coming down to talk to her, and the very minor injury was forgotten. Because oh crap she was in trouble, and she very well knew it.

"... Arnold..."

"Raven."

He sat carefully down on the Pilates ball that was balanced in one corner of the room. With one wrong move he could be dumped on his arse, but there was really nowhere else to sit, aside from the stationary bike, and that would just look silly. Of course, he looked pretty silly anyway, but what the hell.

"What are you doing?"

And he obviously didn't mean her workout.

She watched him, still rubbing at her wrist, with a very wary look in her eye. He was being calm, when she knew he wasn't calm at all, and that always unnerved her. Being the empath she was, when the facial features didn't match what she knew was going on in their heads, she'd always get a little anxious.

"I assume I don't really have to tell you." she stated it in a complete mimic of the tone he had just used on her, for lack of any other defense mechanism at the moment. It'd come to her, just not right now.

Buying herself a bit of time, she went to go fetch her water bottle she had put nearby on the floor. Twisting the cap off, she took a long drink.

He was forcing himself to remain calm. Because if he lost his temper at her now, then there could very well be a massive disaster ahead. As in certain special dates would be rescinded and called off. And not by her. And when the smoke had cleared and the rubble razed, he'd never be able to forgive himself for that.

"Oh, is that what you assumed? Well, that was a rather bad assumption, if you don't mind my saying. Because, glory be, I really would prefer it if you told me. What was going on."

He wasn't really even offering her a chance to defend herself, and he knew he was being rather unfair. But he was so angry that all his hard work, all his careful watching of himself to keep this relationship on track flew right out the window. This was classic flavour Arnold Rimmer you were witnessing here, Raven, the man who was always an inch away from flying to pieces. The man who could alienate people by opening his mouth and being the enormous smeghead that he really was deep down.

She was quiet again, letting those words of his sink in and very carefully thinking over her response to them. Whenever Arnold got mad, she knew this to be the only way to get through it with them seeing eye-to-eye. Despite how much she didn't agree about something, she at least had to listen.

"... Anthony made some good points, Arnold. This isn't just about the heroes, it's also about those that are native here. There are children that live in that city. Countless numbers of them."

She just held that plastic bottle in her hands, making no move to set it down.

"... I need to help protect them."

"And it never occurred to you...even for one second...to come talk to me about it? Not even so much as a quick note? A post-it on my computer screen? 'Gotta dash, off to save the world, see you on five June maybe?' No, of course it didn't."

He was keeping his balance now with difficulty on that damn blue Pilates ball, and his hands were curling up into impotent fists at his sides.

"Not one word. Not a word to me prior! I find out by checking the network and seeing that you've volunteered to go off to war! You know, most people tell their spouses that they're enlisting, you know. Because deployment sure would come as a surprise with two point five kids and a roast in the oven!"

"It isn't as if I'm running off right now, Arnold, you're being just a tad overdramatic, don't you think?"

Oh, she knew very well that would irritate him. She knew he hated to be told he was overreacting. But, she had said it anyway, without really putting any thought behind the words themselves. It was written all over her face that she immediately regretted it.

"... I was going to talk to you about it tonight, when we had a chance to be alone."

And, just as predicted, he went stiff as a board, which upset his balance. He wobbled a bit before planting his feet firmly and moving his center of gravity back downward. Why was he sitting here again?

"No! I don't think I'm being over-dramatic in the least! If I were to go sign up on some death-defying little stunt, I'd tell you first! I wouldn't just go sign up with some idiot to test parachutes from 30,000 feet, and I wouldn't jump at the chance to get involved in what's looking like to be a damn civil war! Why are you doing this?!"

That last sentence came out as something between a wail and a scream, finally propelling him up off his perch. Which...wasn't the best move. The ball bounced with him, smacked him right in the back of the legs, and then ricocheted off the wall behind. He lost his balance and fell just as it hit the wall, which saved his head from a nasty bump, but pushed him forward at the same time.

He ended up on his hands and knees, groaning, and feeling like a complete idiot. Which would do absolutely nothing for his temper.

There wasn't a second's hesitation before she promptly dropped her water bottle and knelt down at his side, trying to help him up. Now she felt awful, not for the accident that just happened, but that it wouldn't have happened if he wasn't upset in the first place.

... she was starting to doubt herself. But, with a deep breath, she tried to get a look in his eyes.

"It... was a snap decision on my part. I didn't actively think 'no I'll hide this from Arnold', and I hadn't really been stewing on it for more than a minute at the most. ... I really mean it, Arnold. I... I want to protect people, and do something."

Even though his first instinct was to wave her off, and he was angry enough to do so, a tiny little voice in the back of his head made him stop right there, and accept her help. He ended up on the floor still, cross-legged and staring up at her. Her hands were on his shoulders, and he reached up to grab at them with both of his hands.

"Why?"

It was a simple question, a plaintive and angry and pained one, his tone of voice betraying his upset. He felt like she'd turned her back on him, fallen right back into the habitual lifestyle that she claimed to hate. That he definitely hated. He'd always thought that the whole reason they were building this life here was to retreat from the "Hero" smeg. And yet, with each passing new housemate that moved in, he saw suddenly that that just wasn't the case. Lister, and his shining, glimmering morals. Joey, with his military training and his all-too-uncanny powerset. Terry, with his driving need for justice and even a taste of vengeance.

He knew how she worked. He knew what being around emotions did to her. He suddenly realised, in a flash of pained insight, exactly why those three had been chosen. Oh, certainly, there were conscious, real reasons, friendships and the like. But the subconscious reason, that she might not have even admitted to herself, was that she craved those powerful emotions to help keep her own balanced.

So why did she keep him, Rimmer, around?

...Ah. Ambition. Drive. Stick-to-itiveness. A work ethic. Yes, that made so much more sense, all of a sudden. All of those powerful emotions were nothing without a motor, a starter. He was, to put it bluntly, her petrol. And those other lads were the pistons.

This hit him in a moment, and his emotions deflated from angry to just plain resigned, feeling hurt and rejected before they'd really even begun talking about this.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

It was obvious and written across all of her features that she had no idea what to say in response to that. She had answered him with complete truth, telling him, without hesitation, the driving force behind her decision, and he was still questioning her.
He didn't believe her. He most likely thought there was a darker reason, or something pained and damaged there. She really did just want to protect those that couldn't protect themselves, she always had, even from a very young age where all she did was heal sick animals on Azarath.

Her expression changed from confused to just pained. He was craving an answer that would make this feel better, and she didn't know what that answer was, outside of 'you're right, what was I thinking, I don't want to get involved after all'. That would have been a lie, and she despised lying, regardless of the reasons behind it.

"... I've told you already." she whispered, now pulling back to go pick up her water bottle and stand awkwardly off to the side, purposely putting distance between them. It'd probably be a little less frustrating if she didn't have to look in his eyes and see that.
"But if you've decided not to believe me, that's your choice. I'm not going to tell you any different."

Seeing her like that broke his heart, even though he was angry with her. Was she telling the truth? Was this because she really wanted to help? Or was there a darker motive here?

And then there was another flash of insight. His therapist, back on the Dwarf, ages ago before the accident, had warned him about this little thing called 'projecting.' And he'd tried to correct that fault, but never could quite get over it. He would find himself putting his own motives and thought processes onto other people, not trusting them at all because he figured their weaselly, devious minds worked the same way his did. Paranoid. He was utterly paranoid, and he knew that. He knew it and tried to stop it and couldn't.

And he'd just done it to her.

"S-Sorry," he said quietly. "I know you said your reasons. I shouldn't have asked you that again. But...but you do know why I'm so upset, right?"

"Of course I know, Arnold. I'm not dense..."

Yes, she was officially on the defensive now, and it was even evident in her body language. She'd always withdraw back a few steps, fold her arms over her torso in a protective little hug, and take on an expression like the person in front of her had just turned into something deadly. She'd been like that since childhood, and it was a tough habit to break.

Unfortunately, in recent years, the addition of a snippy attitude and sarcasm had worked it's way into her defensive repertoire. That's where she was right now.

"And I know that we've talked about this, and we agreed to try and stay out of it. But I can't, Arnold. I can come up with all the pretty little thoughts in my mind of just being like every other native here and unable to do anything, but that makes me sick to my stomach when I'm actually faced with the reality. The reality is that if I can help save and protect even two or three lives, it makes it worth the effort..."

"Even if I asked you not to?"

And there it was. The pinnacle of their long conversations about just this topic. The constant harping by him for her to quit the Titans, the mocking of the "heroes" in public, the snotty little passive-aggressive remarks he'd make about all the stupid things that would happen in the City. It all added up to this moment, where he seemed to draw a proverbial line in the sand.

"I mean, I know I've said I would stand up to your father if it came down to that, but this is entirely different! It's none of our business! We couldn't do anything against the HIVE last time, or the time before that, and we never will! Let...let Superman and Stark and Osborn and the others handle this! We can just...just stay out of it and stay safe!"

Raven let out a very slow, long exhale. So that was it, huh? He was going to cross that line, which... she did see as a minor form of manipulation, since he knew damn well how much he meant to her. She'd lessened how often she went to the Tower down to almost nothing, she'd come up with a life plan that covered over the entire fact that she had so much hero-training, she'd gone against everything she knew and was comfortable with, not just for herself, but for him as well.

She stood there, debating over her options. Saying yes, he was right, would eat her alive, especially if an attack did happen, and everyone was called into action. She'd have to sit at home, worrying over the people that were going into battle, and fidgeting.
If she said no, she was going anyway, it would devastate the man she loved more than life itself. To see and feel that pain in him brought her more pain than she'd felt in a long time, and she liked to avoid that as much as she could.

So... she said neither. Sort of.

"... Arnold, how on Earth are we ever going to stand up to my father if we can't even stand up to the HIVE? They're a drop in the bucket compared to him."

He exhaled as well, as he knew damn well that she had an excellent point. Even though the HIVE was shaping up to be a nastier piece of work than anybody could have foreseen, Trigon would break them all in a heartbeat and eat their livers. And that just about broke him. He'd promised her to stand with her if Trigon ever reared his ugly, demonic head in this dimension, and now he found himself having to justify his words instead of sticking to the topic.

"But that's different. That is our business. That's personal. That's...that's protecting you from being taken over by him. This isn't...this isn't that. It's apples and oranges!"

Even though it really wasn't.

And, yes, he was manipulating her, and he knew it, and hated himself for it. But if manipulating her meant that she was safe, then so be it. She was the only thing he'd ever come close to really valuing in his entire existence, with one other major exception...and even that had been dying on the vine when she was 'Ported out. He knew that. This was just intolerable.

"I just want you to be safe..."

"Arnold, I know that. I really, really understand that, because I feel the exact same way about you." she sounded frustrated, to the point of nearly being in tears-type of frustrated. Only when she looked over at him did he get to see that her eyes matched the sound of her voice.

"But if I didn't go in, and I didn't help teleport people out of a burning building, or move a person to safety or to a hospital, then that's the same as saying I'm completely fine with just letting them die. I'm not fine with that. I---"

Watch out, personal revelation on the horizon and approaching fast...

"I have a gift I can use, Arnold. Why would I want to waste it if I can save people with it...?"

They had known this was going to happen. Back during their first night together, that wild and wonderful and loving night in November, they'd had just this conversation. He'd promised her a life of security and safety and nothing bad ever happening...and she'd stomped that down flat, reminding him what sort of a world they lived in. And her words had been proven right several times. She'd been in a bloody magical coma, for pity's sake. And still he felt like a miserable failure when he couldn't protect her.

The look on her face broke his heart again, and he had to look away. He tried to remember his anger, the fact that she'd done this without discussing it with him first, that this was the exact opposite of what they'd been working for. But he also knew that she hated feeling useless, that being part of her team was important to her, that she liked to help and be involved. And she'd stopped for so long because of him. He couldn't be angry at her for that.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't...well, all right, I guess I am saying that. Smeg."

There seemed to be no compromise on this. Either way it went, one of them would be miserably unhappy about this. And that was not how a partnership was supposed to work. If they were unhappy, then what was the bloody point?

"And you won't reconsider?"

"You won't reconsider?" she fired it right back at him, because, in her mind, she was the one in the right here. She had the ability to save people, and he was telling her not to. She understood the reasoning behind it, she got that he was scared out of his mind, but these were living people, innocent of all of this who would get harmed just because she had chickened out.

"If you're so worried about me being hurt, then do something about it, rather than sitting there and arguing with me."

And that shocked him silly. Still seated like a total gimboid on the floor, he looked up at her incredulously, eyes and mouth wide and round.

"What?! You can't be serious!"

He actually started scooting away from her, still on the floor, crab walking backwards on the balls of his hands and feet, like she suddenly had the plague.

"You cannot be serious! Me? Go with you to...to fight somewhere? Are you mad?"

"If you can't protect me from the HIVE, you can't protect me from my father, Arnold. It's as simple as that." and now she was less on the defensive, and far more on the offensive. She knew she had a point, she knew he'd have a hard time truly arguing this with her.

"You're invulnerable, as you continuously remind me when I have any doubts. If something came close to hurting me, it couldn't, because I'd have you. I'll be going either way, it's up to you how safe you want me to be."

A pause.

"Besides. I thought we were a team."

"We are! We are a team! I just...saw myself as more of a support role than an active one."

Oh, the mealy-mouthed coward. Saying he'd stick by her and help her and then turning around and saying something like this. But he couldn't help it; it was long ingrained in him to run from confrontations, especially physical ones. He was a coward. All through, a ridiculous, overblown, puffed up twerpy little man with all the backbone of a jellyfish. And she'd just called him on it.

"I mean I-...I would, I will. But...I mean, I can't! I don't know how! What am I supposed to do, put on a domino mask and call myself H-Man?"

The longer he rambled, the more cool her expression became. She'd been like this, once upon a time - fearful of actually going into battle, scared she'd mess something up, and letting others fight the majority of her battles for her. It had taken her years, and a healthy push from certain people to get her on the path she needed to be on.

Time for a push, Arnold.

"No. You'd be at my side like you always are."

That cool expression caused him a strange, ambivalent reaction of his own. On the one hand, he felt like he was the lowest worm ever to crawl on the face of the planet, and loathed himself for it. On the other hand...he wanted to prove to her he could do it. He wanted her not to look down on him like that. He wanted her to be proud of him.

He was silent for a long, long moment. A lifetime of cowardice wasn't overcome in one conversation, after all. Not even after six months of a relationship and an impending wedding. Not even after discovering what real values were, and why they needed defending. He was, at heart, still that frightened little boy who was waiting for father to slap him on that stretching rack at the end of the day.

"I..."

Yes or no, Arn? Tick tock.

But as he tried to come to a decision, his throat closed up, and he began having trouble breathing. Oh, great, he was hyperventilating, which was tricky for a hologram to accomplish and yet he managed anyway.

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