Give Yourself Away.

“Why would it be your fault?” Jackie asked automatically, eyebrows furrowing with sympathy. He knew the feeling all too well, but he could also understanding not exactly wanting to share what lead to your own failure… He fidgetted a little, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater a little.

“Jackie. Dereleth, um, Jackie Dereleth,” he stammered out, suddenly regretting even starting this conversation. The way she was looking around, it must’ve meant she had better things to do that she wanted to get back to, and he was only distracting her and being a bother. “Um, I’m sorry that–… I just- I wanted to know. Sorry. … Do you mind if I get your name though, too…?”

Hanna had hardly opened her mouth to answer when she closed it again. Resistance, the honest answer led to possibly destroying any chance of reputation she had. Lying didn’t feel right. That was a lie. She just couldn’t come up with a good enough answer. She struggled for a moment, hand moving to fuss with her hair, before she came to the conclusion that no answer is worse than anything, but it’s all she had to offer. She could only shake her head and offer a shaky smile, “You’ll be okay.”

Vico shrugged. “I don’t want to get shot,” he answered easily, “and I figure the best way to do that is by not getting into a firefight. What are you doing?”

“Oh.” Jackie believed it without a thought, mainly because he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t been able to sense where the sense in her words had started to slip. He frowned, not even bothering to hide his disappointment. He honestly hated the idea of something like… what was inside… to actually, genuienly be able to help him.

How awful of him. It was obvious he just wanted to keep… using whatever was wrong with him as an excuse, if the solution to all his problems were on the other side of a door he refused to open. “Um. Sorry. Can I ask you… one more thing about it…?” His frown deepened. “It didn’t, um.. did it hurt any?”

Hannaleigh had hardly refocused herself enough to prevent her lips from moving without her permission. Hurt in what way? She needed clarification. Physically, no. They hadn’t laid a hand on her. There were no needles or straps or anything physically threatening. What else was there? Spiritually? She doubted she even had any connection to that part of her anymore. Mentally and emotionally, yes. She was drained. Her mind was swimming as though a fog had consumed her and was overtaking her from the inside out. Her limbs felt like lead moving through water and she could hardly keep herself present.

Good, so he hadn’t misread the situation. Anyone with a decent survival instinct and an affinity for violence would have just shot him and gotten on with it. He slipped his hands into his pockets, his pose less forbidding.

“I’ve got a peanut butter and jelly in my pack. The jelly’s soaked into the bread a little, but you can have half if you want. You’re not allergic to nuts, are you?”

In his peripheral vision, the rest of his team held their positions, shifting slightly in place. Harrison was apparently smart enough to see that any diffusion of tension Vico managed wasn’t likely to be aided by the rest of them closing in.

“No,” Venom hesitated slightly, though she couldn’t tell if she was answering his question or refusing his offer. She was barely aware that the others had ceased moving forward further now that all her energy was focused on the Drac in front of her.

Jackie blinked and stepped back and touched a few fingers to his forehead. The knowledge slowly ebbed in that it hurt- that he’d been hurt. “Oh,” he mumbled, which was the wrong sound to make, and he vaguely moved to correct that with a soft, “ow”. Blinking again, he frowned and took another step back, rubbing his forehead and glancing at the girl as she started to speak.

“… Um,” he uttered, because ‘I didn’t realize I was here either’ seemed like the wrong thing to say. “It’s okay. I wasn’t, um…” He took another step back, retreating away from the door, because the girl was making what was on the other side of that door far too real.

“… Was it, um…” He pulled his hand away from his forehead, only to touch his fingers to his black curls nervously. “How was it…?”

“How was what?” she asked before she could stop herself. The millisecond after was filled by a slight groan. She would have to get better at this if she ever wanted out. And she did. She wanted out so badly. Every second she stood in front of this cursed building, something inside of her writhed as if being gripped by a vice.

“Sorry,” she breathed, “I was-. My mind is somewhere else.” With a shaking inhale, she faced the building behind her and then back to the newcomer before she forgot him. “How was it,” she repeated the question as a statement, an attempt to put herself back on the right track toward actually answering the question.

If Vico remembered their prior meeting, he didn’t show it. It had been quite some time ago, after all, and things changed fast in the desert. He kept his arms folded, raising an eyebrow at her gun as thought it was an improbable thing for her to have drawn.

“What’re you so worked up about?” His tone was casual, even slightly bored. They might as well have met on an evening stroll. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long day for me. Do you want a sandwich?”

Confusion, she was sure, would have been the last thing added to her panic, but now she was sure she was wrong. As her eyebrows cinched, questioning severely the sanity of the man in front of her, her gun fell a few inches. Then a few more. And then… Did he offer her a sandwich? Was that really his response in this situation?

Vico made a face. Her first laser had done nothing, shot blindly and in clear view. The second one had to be dodged, but it didn’t do any damage either. Why did everyone out here keep insisting on pulling guns? Weren’t they tired? He drew his Individual and propped it on one knee, following her with his sights but keeping his finger off the trigger. The dracs on either side were returning fire now, lasers sparking off the metal frame of the truck. She moved to the side and he followed her with the barrel of his gun, debating whether or not he cared enough to intervene. Whoever she was, it was obvious she was neither experienced nor particularly violent. Just some stupid kid who didn’t want to eat her wheaties, probably.

With a loud groan, Vico pushed himself to his feet and holstered his gun. He was halfway across the open area before his teammates noticed him, and he ignored their pointed hand signals to back off or at least take his weapon out. He stopped some twenty feet away from the truck with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’re going to shoot yourself in the foot,” he said loudly, rocking back on his heels. God he hoped she wasn’t too jumpy on the trigger. He was most definitely looking way too cool right now to ruin it by getting shot.

Venom's head whipped around immediately. Four. Of course, he had been hiding out way outside her line of sight. Between the laser fire and dust flying, she didn't care to take the time to register who this arrogant, loudmouth, no-good scum thought he was.

Or at least that she wished she could have claimed to been thinking. In honesty, she was terrified. She pulled her gun closer in toward her, half to keep her arm from getting singed and half to prepare it to fire at this random Drac who didn't even bother pulling his own gun or wearing a mask. Two hands on the handle to try to stop her shaking wasn't enough. At this point though, she was halfway ready to just lay the gun down. Every lucky streak comes to an end, after all.

Jackie did not want to get help. He didn’t want to admit he needed it. He certaintly didn’t want to go through the humilation that came with receiving whatever help the city would give him. The last time had been enough. His mind still stung with it.

But this was also the third day - the third consecutive day this week - he had been forced away from his work, because he couldn’t. Because the others could do it better. Someone was going to notice. It was a wonder that nobody had brought it up to him just yet, considering the way he reeked of it. Failure. He was a failure.

He thought that over as he stared at the therapist’s door. He hadn’t thought much about his journey here, or what he was going to do when he was inside. He was sure there was a… process… An appointment he should have arranged, a letter he should have written… Something. There was probably more he was supposed to do than just walk inside and beg to be seen and cry at the first word the person inside had said. But he would be lying if he pretended he’d done anything other than pour the first alcoholic thing he could find down his throat before he wandered off, seeking anything else that could chase his thoughts away. Nothing worked. This was bad. He should get help.

Help was on the other side of this door.

He frowned. The door was right there. He leaned his forehead against the wood of it, placed his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t go inside. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. 

There was still order. Everything was right where it should be when one observes oneself up close. Nothing had changed, really, since the last time she had stepped through those same doors into the same office to hear the same words from the same person with the same clipboard.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 steps closer to the door to exit her own little slice of Purgatory edging the line into Hell, but it couldn’t be, could it?

Everything was in order, and everything was okay. Wasn’t it? Shouldn’t it have been? She wasn’t exactly sure anymore. How long had she been here? How many sessions, again? 1, 2, 3, 4, 3, 4, 2-3-4. It would be fine. If she could just make it through the blasted sessions with another person who simply didn’t seem to actually care, it would all be fine again. With that knowledge not doing its job of closing the gap between who she was having to be and who she really wanted to be, she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned and pushed and-

Realizing that the door did not swing open in its normal pattern or swiftness or-. As she stared behind the door at this young man who had been-what, leaning against it?-she only briefly registered him as an actual human. When she did, however, she quickly inhaled and stepped around, closing the door behind her.