blood on my name

[sawyer sullivan] is [a beta level] mutant with the ability of [psychometry]. they’ve been in new york for [nine years] where they spend most of their time as [a mechanic]. when i think of them, i think of [beat up leather jackets, muffled rock music through the mud spattered walls of a trailer, and honey warm eyes turning milky]. they are affiliated with [the former essex house residents]. || (joseph quinn, twenty nine, cis man, he/him) — 

@c23intros

“Nah, I’ll take the hit in one.” He could cover it if he put in some hours, make up for the chunk he’s going to sink into his tin can. The thought drains him more than he’d care to admit. Samson sucks on his tooth, letting the fang poke, nearly pierce, his tongue. “It’s part of my mutation,” he begins to explain as his nostrils flare. He drops into a seat pinches the bridge of his nose, gives his excuse knowing full well it means jack shit, “Getting angry.” An understatement, for sure. But he’s already feeling like it might take more energy than it’s worth to keep talking or explain himself anymore than that. He’ll simply have to wait it out.

         “good.” it’s a harsh reality, but one jack is determined to pass on whenever possible. it’s not enough to try and rebuild the life that’s been lost at the hands of the essex house—he needs to make sure that the others realize the reality that’s waiting for them. people are coming in from all sides to scoop them up, but not out of charity. they want to weaponize them. whether or not the cause is justified is irrelevant when at the end of the day, all they’re seen as is gold-plated canon fodder. “keep thinking that way. it’ll save your skin.”

         a flicker of amusement passes over his expression. their own faction. in a way, it’s almost true. but only almost.  “i wouldn’t say we’re that… organized.” for the most part, the escapees have kept to their own devices, unchained to the others sharing in their situation. occasionally they’ll come together, but overall? they exist adjacently. “but with the way things are going, that might have to be how we end up. i’d rather that than have anyone else taken under the wrong wings.”

Jack’s never been mealy mouthed. His blunt nihilism might have been funny to Sawyer before (and it’s funny how time is split up like that, before and after, because they really feel like they were experienced by two different people, ‘before’ being the epoch of the transformation into the man Sawyer is now). This Sawyer doesn’t laugh like the before Sawyer might have at the idea of having no faith in anyone might save you. This Sawyer agrees. He leans on people a lot, but he doesn’t trust them, not really. He just doesn’t care any more if they drop him.

It slips pass her mind and the guilt consumes her for a moment, but she pushes it back as she smiles, “Maybe we can get our hands on a keyboard too, I’m not sure if I still know how to play the piano, it’s been long. And yeah, I’d love to learn the guitar properly,” She thinks that if Sawyer can no longer play, then she can play for him. “Hey, maybe there’s a secondhand guitar that we can get! Pawnshops are the key.” She nudges at him.

“Ooh there it is!” She says as the pizzeria comes in view, “We should get Dani something too.”  

“Sure; keyboard, guitar... just need a set of drums and we got ourselves a band. Must be plenty of pawn shops ‘round here with old instruments. And you know somethin’? I never really cared if I sucked. Just like makin’ a lotta noise.” Alright, it’s nice if the noise sounds good, but music has always had an element of catharsis to Sawyer.

    the script didn’t falter and neither did the woman as she continued to inflict pain. emmeline had been indoctrinated but there was a glimmer of enjoyment in her eyes as she played her part. it was a change for her not to be the weakest in the room and she did tend to get carried away - she was nathaniel’s daughter, after all!

    with a please, the woman finally stopped and backed away. “that will be all, mr. sullivan.” there was nothing else she could or should do. the woman had already gone on for long enough, definitely more than she should have considering she was bleeding from her nose. however, emmeline was completely unphased by it. “do well to think about this little conversation and do not upset me again.” she feigned a quick smile and then headed for the exit.

She’s leaving. Thank fuck she’s leaving. Sawyer can feel himself shaking from head to toe; he slumps forward, and his hair forms quivering tendrils in front of his vision. He doesn’t know what it means that she’s leaving: has she given up and it’s over for today? Or is she assuming she’s broken him and he’ll do what she’s asked now?

He doesn’t know, doesn’t have the energy to try and figure it out. All he’s got is the faintest spark of relief that for this small moment, the pain is over and he has this fleeting reprieve -- until one of the guards grabs him by the arm to haul him to his feet.

          Awkward.  That  was  the  best  way  to  describe  her.   She  didn’t   really  know  what  she  was  even  talking  about.   Then  again,   she  never  knew  what  she  was  talking  about.   Holland  really  wants  to  be  normal.   “I  don’t  know.   That  requires  someone  to  actually  care.”   She  didn’t  have  anyone,   not  really.   Without  her  parents  and  siblings,   she  had  no  one.   Still  didn’t  mean  that  she  needed  saving.   

          Holland  didn’t  think  that  she  was  a  monster,   her  parents  were  though.   And  yeah,   she  was  still  learning,   but  she  knew  she  was  normal.   As  long  as  she  wasn’t  around  other  mutants.   “Or  something  like  that.”   She  didn’t  think  that  all  mutants  were  saints  after  all.   “I  don’t  really  know.   They  are  scientists,   so  they  ought  to  know  but  they  never  said  anything.   It  doesn’t  work  unless  I’m  around  other  mutants.” 

Alright, it’s not funny, but Sawyer finds himself smiling crookedly at the girl’s comment about needing someone to care. That’s true enough, and from the sounds of things she hasn’t had much opportunity to make a whole lot of friends.

‘You were there.’ Despite the quiet, nonthreatening way the stranger says it, something about the phrase sends a trickle of a chill down Levi’s spine. Where? Levi wants to ask, because if this is a mutant thing and it’s related to his bandana, well. That bandana has been a lot of places, and it has seen some shit.

What follows, though, is simultaneously surprising and… clears up a lot. Essex, Levi has to assume. There isn’t a lot the Brotherhood has done since their big reveal people would thank them for — except Essex.

Levi finally scoops down to pick up his bandana, hastily stuffing it into one back pocket and letting quiet settle for a moment as he takes a slow drag of his cigarette. He traps the smoke deep within his lungs as he eyes this man critically, curiously, neither advancing nor making any move to leave, and eventually nods once. “We just did what anyone else shoulda done a long time ago,” Levi confirms quietly. After a beat: “Were you in there?”

Sawyer’s hand on his shoulder brings Milo back, and despite another quick swipe of the back of his hand across his cheeks, he offers what he hopes is at least a marginally reassuring smile. “I, um.” Milo shrugs. He supposes he’s already apologized that Sawyer had to take the memories in the first place. It’s not worth rehashing for both of them. Most things about Essex aren’t.

“Sorry for… my news, I guess.” Milo hesitates, not because he’s about to go back on his end of the bargain, but because he still really doesn’t want to say this. Kind of doesn’t know how. But Sawyer deserves to know, and so do the other former Essex residents who may want to seek sanctuary here, like Milo did a year and a half ago.

“Emmeline Essex… she’s here. She’s… she lives at the Institute.” He presses his lips into a thin, nervous line, then shakes his head. “She’s never tried to hurt me. She’s avoided me, for the most part. But…” Milo draws a shaky breath, then lets it out in one soft little huff. “She did try to apologize, once.”

He wants to reassure Milo that there’s not any news he could deliver that would upset Sawyer, after the shit that he’s lived through. Mostly now he’s just glad to be out, even if the real world is too bright against the raw wound of his mind sometimes.

in the grand scheme of things, jess knew little about sawyer’s ability. she knew that he worked with the mind, she knew that he worked with memories – that was it. a blessing in the ring, a curse in the real world. expected or not ( she really didn’t know ! just as she didn’t know with so many psionics that relied on working with the mind ! ), it certainly had a degree of power if he wouldn’t even need to leave where they sat to harm her. although jack and jess’s treatment of emmeline had certainly been more involved than just harming her ( she had done that on her own – if jack had seen the woman in the wild, she was sure he had, as well ), sawyer could incite mental warfare without moving a muscle. “ ya know, she said she was ‘only nine,’ ” jess began, a sort of preview to her memories… and a bit of expressed scorn. there had been literal children in those walls and emmeline was trying to compare her plight to theirs ? maybe there would’ve been a shred of sympathy if she hadn’t been actively contributing to it… “ what would ya think about tryin’ t’ make her think big essex ‘still loves her’ ? ” ultimately, the little time ( for now ! ) that she would let the bracelet leave her ? – it was his choice, but making her think he loved her… that could play into a larger picture. a greater good. what would seem borderline harmless could be so much more… the fact of the matter: they weren’t done with emmeline essex. and somewhere, in the back of her mind, they weren’t done with essex. she was still walking the same halls as their own – the vulnerable, the ones who genuinely deserved that protection. how much sawyer needed to know ? yet to be seen. he was fresh out of the house. jess’s priorities those first few months had involved staying alive… but, when he was able to skip that stage, what did that bring him to ? in any case, the morals he held when no longer in the heat of the moment… those would always be what to judge by.

“Yeah, she was,” Sawyer says in monotone, eyes dull. Nine years old, or thereabouts. That’s what he’d seen from a couple of those memories. For anyone else, he’d have so much sympathy. But given she’d actively participated in his torture, he kinda thinks he doesn’t give a fuck. 

Jess suggests using the bracelet to make Emmeline think Nathaniel still loved her, and he nods slowly. He keeps zoning out, still turning the bracelet in his fingers and visiting brief flashes of memories. “Maybe? Can at least make some of these memories real nice. Can’t change a whole lifetime of shit, if he was always an asshole, but maybe…” turns the bracelet again, eyes flashing white then back to brown with reptilian speed. “Make her think they’ve had some kinda reconciliation. Make her think y’all did nothin’ untoward to get this bracelet,” He gives Jess a pointed look, because that memory is held in the silver chain of the bracelet itself.

His mind is spinning with possibilities; a charm bracelet is possibly the greatest boon his mutation could get. “Could even just plant memories that make no sense, shit she knows could never have happened so as she thinks she’s losin’ the plot. Or make her think she was one of us, or make her think she did somethin’ real bad… even for her.”

Sawyer doesn’t question him on not wanting to talk about it. Good, he thinks. What use is it to dredge the depths of their memories for more horrors? Why show them to the light, and see it in all it’s horrific detail?

“It gets easier if you’re angry at them,” Seven is learning still how to be angry, as odd a sentiment that may be to some. Seven bowed his head, stayed in line. Took the torture with ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s. Fucked up behavior, in hindsight. It has been easier to believe he’d never done anything wrong now he’s angrier about it. Now he can see the truth. 

“I got plenty of anger, believe me,” Sawyer says with a sad smile – he doesn’t sound angry right now, but it’s there, burning away in embers in his belly. Sighing through his nose, he turns to look at the sprawling house behind him. He doesn’t really want to get into it here and now, but he is eager to catch up with Seven. “So, wanna go see what Mo’s got set up in there?”

         despite sawyer’s reluctance to offer an opinion on the brotherhood, jack doesn’t concern himself. it could be that someone had approached him, tried to convince him to fight ( or more accurately, die ) for the same people that had finally landed the killing blow. or he could have avoided them altogether, preferring ignorance. ultimately, sawyer’s decisions are his own—jack can only hope that he takes the information he offers to heart. “milo’s there, too.” not with his approval, but they don’t need it. they’re aware of who xavier is harboring and can have their own opinions, and reactions, to that. “but i think it’s better to stay uninvolved. if you see her…” he grimaces. “sure, say whatever you like. do whatever you like. just remember who’s being kept safe, here. it’s not us.”

         it’s the fault in the institute’s design. by offering kindness to everyone, they make their safe haven immediately unsafe to the same people they claim to protect. harboring evil is not the noble sacrifice they think it is. “factions are just a big distraction. the only time it ends up benefiting us is by accident.” or too late to make the difference it should. “we need to look out for our own, not… busy ourselves with whatever anyone else thinks is right.”

“I gave up on thinkin’ people gave a shit about our safety a long time ago,” Sawyer says, voice hollow. Nobody had ever looked out for him as a kid; it was just him and Harley, and then Lia trying desperately to influence them into some good decisions once in a while. Essex hadn’t given a shit about him. And now out here in the ‘real world’? Nobody gives a shit. The escapees are at most a novelty, some vague and morbid form of celebrity having their fifteen minutes of fame, and the rest of them, the ones that just got out? Well, Essex is closed down now, so everyone can give themselves a pat on the back and forget anything ever happened.

Matthias nods and he realized how absolutely ignorant he must have looked for agreeing with that statement. He was aware of how he grew up, big house, not just one, but multiple, private schools and ivy league college, country club on the weekend, brand new car when he started driving, winters in Switzerland and summers in France. He had money, but his money was never truly his, his father had worked for it, his mother’s family had money to last for generations, he had never worried about such thing, the money was always just incidental.

“I suppose so, it’s worse when you care sometimes” he had been target for it, someone doing this to his car was actually the best thing that could have happened. He still remembered that one and the plastic on the floor of his office when he stepped into it. It had hardly been a friendly visit. “I know how it might seem sometimes, but not every case is scandalous and not every lawyer works only for the bad guys, it’s just a job like many others”.

Now, finally a question that Matthias could reply with ease. He gives Sawyer a little understanding him, his German was awful until five years ago, he understood the struggle and appreciated that he had at least tried. “Criminal defense,” that was what they were most known for “Securities defense, Tax controversy, Personal Representation” but of course he didn’t want to bore Sawyer with all of this names “I work in Corporate, not really a crowd favorite, but I seem to do pretty well” he pauses, he was never a man that really liked to talk much about his life anyways, “what about you? I haven’t seen you here before, what is your speciality?” 

.

Not every job is scandalous… Sawyer wonders what it says about him that that’s kind of disappointing. It’s not that he wants the drama in his life personally, but if he spent all those years and all that money training to be a hot shot lawyer and you just got boring cases? That’d be a let down.

“Criminal defense, that sounds like the fun one, like the ones you see on the TV. I bet you’re tryin’ to say it’s just like any other job so as I don’t get jealous.” Sawyer throws a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he screws in the new headlight. “Although corporate? Alright, that sure sounds a little more dry.”

Dani doesn’t know how he does it. How, after everything they went through, after everything he went through, Sawyer still manages to smile and laugh and joke around. However he’s managing it, she’s grateful; it’s a chance to feel normal and she loves him for it, so she fastens her seatbelt with a flourish and grins as they roll out the gates. As much as she might appreciate the Institute and what they’ve offered her, Dani still relishes the feeling of leaving it under her own free will.

“I’m okay,” she answers, not at all hesitant, when he asks his carefully neutral question. “The teachers ’re all real nice, an’ you know Mi’s here, plus Matteo which is crazy but like, in a cool way.” Sawyer had been one of the first people at Essex she’d told about her best friend, and one of the first she had called after they were reunited. “It’s… it’s good, I think. I got my own room and I’m gonna take some classes, maybe get a job? I’m still figuring it out, but…” It’s hard to describe what it’s like to feel hopeful again, but Dani’s sure Sawyer will understand.

“How ‘bout you, anything new?”

Sawyer switches some music on, pretty quiet so they can still talk — he just likes being surrounded by noise. The muffled strains of guitar through the van’s shitty speakers, the low hum of the engine, and Dani’s familiar voice updating him. It’s a comfort. There’s no room for bad thoughts in his head through that.

He smiles at the sound of her voice, but keeps an eye on the road (he’s not always the most careful driver when he’s alone, but with a passenger beside him, he’s a stickler for the Highway Code). “Gettin’ your own room’s nice. I can’t believe what a difference it makes, gettin’ your own space. Feels real safe. But what d’you wanna get a job for? Ain’t it better to focus on takin’ classes for now?” Sawyer’s not convinced the Institute is an especially safe place, given their evident Essex Sympathies, but at least she’s got Matteo and Mi around. Much as he’d hated the imprisonment at Essex, he gets kind of anxious now thinking about the people he’d grown close to being out in the wide world. Almost a ‘better the devil you know’ sort of feeling.

          “Rapunzel  means  lettuce.”   She  had  read  that  in  a  book  once.   Holland  didn’t  know  why  she  was  saying  it  now.   It  filled  the  empty  space  between  the  two  of  them  and  Holland  felt  like  it  hung  in  the  air  awkwardly.   “I  guess.   Tower,   brownstone  in  New  York.   Same  thing.”   She  sure  had  been  locked  away  like  the  princess.   “I  didn’t  need  a  prince  to  save  me.   Or  princess.”   Even  though  she  wasn’t  safe  yet. 

          She  doesn’t  know  what  she’s  supposed  to  say  or  do  around  people  that  were  tortured.   That  she  was  part  of  it  in  anyway,   even  as  a  lowly  intern.   Holland  never  hurt  anyone,   hadn’t  even  known  people  were  being  hurt,   yet  she  felt  the  crushing  guilt.   “Um,   my  deal?   You  mean…   what?”   She  doesn’t  understand  the  question.   “You  mean  like  why  don’t  I  talk  to  my  parents?   Why  did  they  keep  us  isolated?   Or  what  am  I  doing  now?”   All  of  those  weren’t  questions  she  could  answer.   “Because  I  can’t  answer  most  of  those  questions.   All  I  know  is  my  parents  said  the  world  wasn’t  safe  because  there  are  monsters,   but  I’m  one  too.   And  I  don’t  know  if  they  know.” 

Rapunzel means lettuce? Okay. That’s… well, Sawyer sure didn’t know that before, but it’s also not exactly relevant. Poor kid, he thinks, she’s probably just rambling because she’s anxious — and then he feels resentful for thinking ‘poor kid’. She stubbornly insists that she doesn’t need saving, and Sawyer shrugs. “Sure. Ain’t no shame in leanin’ on people when you need it, though.”

Maybe it’s a twin thing, but Sawyer always had a codependent streak. He’s really bad, actually, at doing things alone.