extent | duplicitynet

( there's nothing peaceful about the stillness that comes with nick's return to the house. it's fragile-won at best, nick walks on eggshells around the house, and retreats, as best as he can manage, into good behaviour. or at least, nick's best approximation of good behaviour, which is to say he's quiet. detached. untethered. but he isn't causing trouble, so it's a compromise.

nick doesn't use his room much. on a regular week, it might have been a day or two before he even found the gift, but it's a space he finds easy to retreat to right now, which is why he finds it before the morning is even over. he reads the letter — and reads it again, a few times more just to be safe. i remember everything.

it's pretty unambiguous.

quiet as everything else he's done the last day or so, nick pads up to michael's room. pretentious room. god, it's been one hell of a couple of weeks. note still in one hand, he hesitates for several long moments, before he knocks. )

[ Michael looks up. There's other things strewn about the bed he's sitting on. He'd had all of this stuff more or less ready to go, but he hadn't finished wrapping it up before he encountered Hope. Now, he's correcting that. There's a weird, old-looking radio sitting beside him, and a leather jacket along the foot of the bed. In front of him is a picture of Nick, Kyle and Michael on one of their movie nights, making faces into the camera. He's mid-framing it when the door's knocked, and he frowns. ]

Who is it?

[ The picture's for Kyle. He's not welcome right now. ]

( for a brief, kneejerk moment the urge comes to turn on his heel and walk right back down the hall and away from the door, but he swallows it down. that response never got him anything but more misery, in the end. it's not going to do anyone any good for him to keep making the same mistakes.

instead he just sucks in a sharp breath, exhales it out too. nick leans his shoulder, his forehead, heavily against the door. but he doesn't reach for the door handle yet. )

Probably the least preferable option.

[ It's been a long week. Michael has every one of his memories back now, and yet freshest in his mind is the conversation he had with Nick while he was gone. Kyle had brought him home, of course, but he'd been quiet after it. In Michael's eyes, that has meant he wasn't where he wanted to be.

He isn't going to run away from the problem, though, not when Nick is the one coming to him. ]

Come in, it's open.

[ He sets the framed picture down, and reaches for wrapping paper. ]

( he doesn't open the door right away, and when he does nick does that quietly too. the door closes behind him, pushed shut with a soft click, and he isn't really sure how he's going to feel when he turns around and looks at michael properly for the first time, but he knows it's going to be complicated — and the moment certainly delivers.

his stomach flips and nick isn't entirely sure if the heavy weight on his chest is guilt, shame, delayed grief, concern, or some unpleasant hybrid of the lot, but it's no less suffocating for being unidentifiable. despite that he manages to sound--normal, or as close to, when he speaks. )

Are you okay? I know it's...weird, when everything snaps back.

[ Michael looks up at him, but doesn't make him hold his gaze for any kind of time. He looks back down to cut some paper and starts to wrap that picture. ]

I'm trying not to think about it. Everything's...the same, except that I remember dying, and I remember Hope.

[ And with that comes the knowledge that one of the presents he'd bought will stay in his wardrobe. He'd thought--

He thought something that was wrong, but he doesn't think Nick is the right person to have it out with. ]

What about you?

[ He looks up again, studying Nick's face. ]

Are you staying?

She can't kill again right now.

( he doesn't expect that it will help michael any more than it helped him to learn that his death wasn't intentional, but he says it quickly anyway, just in case michael doesn't know yet. it doesn't change anything, doesn't change what she did to him, but it's still--important.

he hovers for a moment, silent, not because he doesn't know the answer to michael's question but because he doesn't know if the answer will actually be welcome. nick walks over to the bed, chewing on the inside of his lip and reaching over to pick off a strip of tape, tearing off a section and holding it out ready. )

Yeah, I'm...here. I'm staying.

( he's careful in the way his face is still angled down, but not so much that he can't watch michael's reaction. )

[ Michael's still when Nick says Hope can't kill again. Not won't, but can't. That doesn't mean she's better - and he saw her video, he wasn't expecting anything else - it means they've stopped her, somehow.

He reaches to take the piece of tape, and sticks an edge of paper down with it. After a moment he holds his hand out for another. ]

Good. I couldn't stand it if the two of you broke because of me.

[ He hadn't been able to stand that when he couldn't remember loving either of them, much less now. ]

Why can't she kill again?

A curse. Not mine, I don't do that shit, but I guess it buys everyone some time to....I don't know. Figure out how to help her.

( nick has some complicated thoughts on all of that, but that's more or less the important parts to cover. it was hard not to feel resentful in this first couple of days, when michael was dead and it felt like the only thing coming out of everyone's mouth was how do we help hope.

now, he mostly just wants to paint enough of a picture that michael won't be the one going after her again.

he tears off another couple of pieces of tape, dangling them off the end of his fingertips and holding each out as it's needed with a complicated look on his face. after another skittish moment he sits, perched on the edge of the bed and looking very focused at the lines of the package. )

You know it wasn't...because of you, right. Like it wasn't your fault I walked.

[ Michael tenses, a little, at the talk of helping Hope. That's all he'd been trying to do in the first place, and look how it had ended. He looks down at the package. If he hadn't done what he did, these gifts would've gone to their owners two days ago. Nick wouldn't have left, no one's holiday would've been fucked. ]

Yeah, I'm not in the place where I can give a damn about helping her.

[ So, it's fair to say he's pissed. In the end, she'd cared exactly enough about him to make cheerful posts to the network after it, with his body in the background. That means everyone who cared about him had to see it. Means Hope is very squarely not in that category.

Nick is, though. He knows that. It's a mutual feeling, and it's why Michael doesn't look comfortable with that next question. He lets out a sigh, and looks at Nick. ]

I don't think you would've walked if what happened to me hadn't happened. You gonna tell me I'm wrong?

You shouldn't.

( nick isn't a particularly bitter person, most of the time, but there's something about this whole situation specifically that keeps dragging it out of him. he's tired of pouring so much time into talking about helping a remorseless killer, she doesn't deserve michael's help, if nick could help it she might never look at michael again.

but it's not an especially helpful train of thought, it just makes him feel vaguely guilty for thinking it, and it's not like he could enforce it anyway, so instead he just picks off a piece of tape deliberately for the purpose of shredding it between his finger tips. )

It's not your fault that you died, Michael. ( he says it quiet, carefully, staring down at his own fingers and trying not to sound so sad. ) It's not your fault I took it badly. I thought I was....coping, right until I wasn't.

[ Michael lets out a breath and looks up at him. Nick looks so forlorn. He looks upset, he looks disappointed. All of that, Michael has put him through.

It drives him crazy. This, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. He'd wanted to be a better person. Drinking less, caring more. He never should've pressed the matter with Hope. He'd been so convinced that he could get through to her, just because he cared about her. It's ridiculous, it's all ridiculous. He should've known better. ]

It's exactly my fault. She told me she didn't give a damn, she told me to stop. I didn't listen. I thought she'd stop like Kyle did. She didn't. My fault.

You...

[ He chews the inside of his cheek, thinking over what he's going to say. ]

I get it, Nick. I used to be the guy who ran. I don't blame you. But I don't--

Alex told me how close we were, but you didn't want to deal with me. And I understand that, better than anyone, but Nick, I don't want your life to be like mine. I don't want you to run from Kyle like I used to run from Max and Isobel. My people, we're good at found families. We work in threes, we call them Triads. So I think, maybe, it's natural for me to feel at home when there's three. But that doesn't mean...that it's right for me to be here, in your space with him.

This time it was Hope. She's not the only thing that could ever hurt me here. I could die again, I could have my memories taken, and if that happens, I don't want to be the reason you run away from him. That's not fair. On him, or on me.

It's not your fault you died. It wasn't. I know what you were doing, I don't care. It still wasn't your fault.

( he keeps picking at the tape, until the pieces are small enough that all he can do with them is roll them off of the ends of his finger tips, and from there he's not really sure what to do next. his hands aren't that interesting a place to keep looking at that for this long, but he finds a nail to pick at instead. )

Okay. By that logic, I should break up with everyone, right? Because something might happen to one of them, and I might react badly. I should avoid everyone here, because something might happen to one of them, and I might react badly. You think I would have handled this situation any better if you didn't live with us?

( nick shrugs, scraping a thumbnail over the side of one of his fingers before he just clasps his hands together completely, looking up at michael finally. he doesn't want a fresh new wave of grief to derail the conversation. )

Me being a mess is on me, not you. If you want to talk about me moving out, that's a different situation. But I'll listen.

[ There's a lot on this bed between them. But just like that, it all sweeps aside, following the path of Michael's frown. He shifts up beside Nick, and he puts his arm around him. ]

I don't want you to go anywhere, Nick. I just need to know you aren't gonna lose your shit every time something bad happens to me. It's gonna happen. I'm kind of a dick.

[ He pulls Nick against him by the shoulders. This is what he should've done four days ago. He just didn't have the memory for it then, didn't have the whole history of their relationship to inform his actions. He knew that Nick was important, but he didn't feel that importance. Not then. ]

If you're a mess, then you're our mess. We can be fucked up together, that's okay.

( nick doesn't really realise how much he's missed this, until michael has an arm around him and something very painfully unknots in his chest. he abandons the very careful art of jamming his thumbnail into the side of his finger long enough to leave a dent, wins his arm around michael's waist and turns his face into michael's shoulder. )

You could try not being a dick.

( he tries to sound light, joking, but it catches in his throat. for someone who feels an awful lot of feelings, nick still hasn't cried yet, and it feels a little like every time he's swallowed that down is sitting right there in his throat. )

Or I could try not letting it get to that stage again.

[ Michael shifts a hand up into Nick's curls, smoothing them out a bit. It's painful, thinking about how at odds they'd been. The idea that everything they have could just vanish so easily sits uncomfortably with him. ]

I like option B. Especially since there's a chance that getting hurt won't always be my fault here.

[ He looks down at him, at the top of his head since it's all he can really see of him. ]

Can I help you, somehow, is there something I can do?

You can teach me how to play that stupid guitar.

( nick makes a sound a little like a hiccup, tipping his chin until it's his ear jammed against michael's chest. he's not exactly listening for the thud of michael's heart, but he's not not doing that either. it just soothes over a few of those sharper edges, like the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of the arm around nick's shoulders.

it doesn't really solve everything, if michael's absence alone were the problem then nick would have been fine a week ago, but it helps. it all helps, just a little, and he takes a few slow and careful breaths to stave off any wobbles when he speaks again. )

I'm sorry you died. I wish you didn't know what that was like.

[ Nick seems so small, and so young. How much has he been keeping down beneath the surface, waiting for it to explode? Michael keeps him there, and if there's any wobble in his voice, he ignores it. ]

Me too. I wish you didn't, either.

[ That's how it is here. So many people know how it feels. It's entirely wrong. ]

I'll be okay. I'm here, aren't I? Good as new and ready for everyone I love to yell at me.

[ They're going to. Alex had already primed him for it. ]

They probably won't actually yell at you.

( well. alex might, but he can probably handle that just fine.

it hasn't really been that long since nick last hugged him, in the grand scheme of things. a couple of weeks is hardly a long stretch of time, but if nick had known it was going to be the last one for a while, he might have relished the last one a little more.

that's not a problem now. nick seems more or less content to have the whole conversation with his arms around michael. )

I know I'm like, historically a fucking mess, but this? We can talk about this. ( he shrugs, pulling back a little. just enough that he can actually look at michael, a wry sort of smile twisted into his expression. ) It's...okay not to be okay with being back. I'm not, I shouldn't be here. You don't have to just...roll with the punches.

I don't think my perspective on it is the same. My brother's resurrected two women, at this point, and three of us - me and Kyle included - brought him back when he should've died.

The important thing is having something that's worth living for.

[ He says that, because there was a time not that long ago when he didn't have it. He remembers that feeling very clearly; feeling that life was worthless, feeling that he was worthless, feeling the weight of guilt for everything that happened to the Ortechos after Rosa, feeling that he was distant from everyone, and that anyone who might have loved him was gone.

He remembers being ready to claim responsibility for Rosa's death, because it wasn't like he had anything to stick around for. He remembers the instinct to die along with his mother when he knew Caulfield would go up in flames.

It feels like a long time ago. He has people in his life now who make it worth getting up in the morning. That's important. ]

I have that now, and I didn't always. What happened, with Hope...

[ He lets out a breath, shakes his head. ]

I should've known better. I don't really want to think about it. [ He looks at Nick. ] I'm sorry you had to see it.

( it is different. nick's own view on resurrection is--complicated, steeped in a history of it being fundamentally incompatible with who he is, seeing it go wrong. its impossible for that not to bleed over to here, where the rules are apparently different. even so, nick doubts that being used to the concept of people coming back makes the memories of dying any softer.

he finds one of michael's hands, winds his own hand around it and squeezes tight. )

You did what you thought was right. At least...it meant we knew what happened. If we were only just finding out now... ( it's not an image he's going to get out of his head any time soon, michael's body abandoned on the floor. he doesn't think about it now though, deliberately, looking at the michael in front of him instead. the one that's so clearly alive. ) We don't have to talk about it, later, or ever. I just want you to know you can.

[ Michael pauses, then smiles a little, and tightens his hand on Nick's shoulder. ]

I'm not good at the whole, talking about it, thing. But thanks.

[ This time has to be different from when his hand was destroyed. He can't follow that same path again. He can't lose everyone who matters to him again.

He won't let that happen. ]

You know it goes both ways. I mean, if you want to talk about it.

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