abraxasnet | TO EVERYONE

[ oh, well that shifts the tone of all of this, doesn't it? sam is immediately sobered, even if she can't exactly see it. ]

no but i can be
my place or yours?

Edited 2021-10-19 02:52 (UTC)

[ She's already out the door by the time he answers. ]

I'll be at your place in a couple of minutes.

i'll be there

[ and he is, when she arrives, but he hasn't been for long - pacing in the kitchen, waiting to hear footsteps cross the porch. ]

[ Her heels click across the porch at fast clip, and she raps her nails sharply on the door. ]

Sam!

[ the door is open on the second rap, and sam is there, looking equal parts tense and expectant. this is part of the job, isn't it? and while he has one idea what this might be about, he plans on hearing her out first. ]

Hey. Come on in.

[ he pulls open the door the rest of the way, letting her step through before closing it behind her. ]

[ Dress throwing the sunlight around the room like a gold disco ball, Julie steps in and then leans against the kitchen table, arms crossed over her chest. ]

Sam, I just talked to two different new people. And ain't either one of 'em in Thorne. One's at an Outpost outside of Cadens, the other's in Solvunn. And they both made it sound like they weren't the only ones brought here, neither.

[ as she steps inside, sam closes and feels it lock behind him. he ends up following her into the kitchen. and, just as he expected, julie immediately turns to the topic of the newcomers, and sam feels a frown pull at his mouth.

he nods at the concern, rubbing at his jaw. ]

They're not. Or at least- I doubt they are. I've talked to a couple of them who are from a Barrack outside of Cadens. I wasn't sure about Solvunn, but I had my worries. Thorne had no reason to stop, but the fact the others are joining in...

[ sam exhales, annoyed. not happy. ]

Did they say anything about what they saw?

[ If Julie is really honest, she was expecting more. She doesn't exactly know what that should entail, but she felt like it should just be... more.

Julie is also an overdramatic nutjob.

She sighs and knits her brow, then sinks into one of the chairs with a quiet clink of her dress. She presses her palms against her eyes for a second, willing her memory to replay the messages so she can give him verbatim answers. There's no replay. ]

Uh, the one in Solvunn said that they got pulled out of a pond, and Solvunn gave 'em an apartment. One in Cadens said somethin' 'bout a brig? And then another, I didn't get where he was, but he seemed real sure he got brought here to fight a war.

[ unfortunately, there definitely is more. or was, more, when sam first found out. but that also part of the whole captain america job, isn't it? he can't be that affected, can't get that angry. he's got to take the issues and find solutions.

and as julia sinks down into a chair, it's sam's turn to lean back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and brows knit, as he listens. nods, with what she takes. takes it all into account. ]

From what I've heard, it's a bunker outside of the city. They're allowed to travel after a little bit but there's not a whole lot beyond that. [ sam thinks he may know what she's talking about, when julie says fight a war. ]

Which really doesn't inspire confidence, considering neither Solvunn nor the Free Cities had any real plans for the Singularity until we got here.

[ Luckily for Julie, she will never be burdened with the responsibility of being Captain America. She will never be burdened with much more than the responsibility of taking drink orders. Which is exactly why she came running to Sam like a child tattling on their sibling.

But to her credit, she does seem to be trying very hard to work this all out in her little bubble brain. It doesn't help that she's currently living in the city that seems to be furthest removed from all of the drama -- life in Nott is actually pretty rote and easy, considering. ]

No, but Thorne didn't bring us here and tell us to fight a war, either. I'm guessin' that the war fighter is in Cadens, 'cause all I ever hear about 'em is that they're big military and shit, right? And they wanna do the most destruction with the Singularity. So, seems like if anyone's gonna start a war, it's gonna be them. I been tryin' to tell these new folks that they shouldn't fight us, that if it's gonna be anythin', it should be all us off-worlders against the natives, but they ain't listenin' to me. And when Thorne got the rest of us, we weren't bein' pitted against each other. So how do we stop that shit?

[ sam gets it, and is somehow even used to it - so while julie may be running around like a child tattling, sam also feels a bit better knowing that she came to him at all. and, upon seeing how hard she's working to think, he waits for her answer. patient, understanding.

when she explains what she does know - about the war, about cadens, about them all fighting. his expression remains tight and serious, even while something in the pit of his stomach drops. ]

I'll see if I can find them. There's been one or two that's made it to Cadens proper, but I doubt it's all of them. [ sam lets out another sigh. ] No one has actually mentioned a war yet, but if that's true... [ his voice sounds a bit quiet, like he's talking more to himself than julie. but then, when he realizes what he's doing, he shakes his head - as if shaking himself out of it. ]

Listen- I've put in a request to talk to the Prime Minister. I'll see what she has to say. I'll try and round up any of the newcomers in the Free Cities too, the last thing anyone needs is someone walking around talking about a war. [ god, he's tired, but at the same time, there are others here. others like julie, who came here, because she thought he could help.

so sam takes another breath, loosens up a little. ] Listen- if we can keep us all on the same page, they won't have anyone to start anything with. These people can't get here- [ he gestures around them, meaning the horizon. ] And whether it's Thorne or Cadens or whoever else, they can't do shit unless they get close enough to it, right? As long as we stay ahead of them, we'll be fine.

[ The groan she lets out is one of mostly impotent frustration, like she thinks there's some course of definitive action to be taken, even though she knows there really isn't. She came to Sam precisely because she thought he would know the right steps to take, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't hoping for something swift and concrete. Something would immediately fix it.

It could also just be that she knows precious few people who do things the proper way at all. Her world is an orbit of terrible people doing terrible things in service of a terrible god-king, so the whole "peaceful solution" route is very new to her. ]

She's not gonna say anything except lies. If they're pullin' people, it has to be on her word, right? She's behind it, and the people in Solvunn too. At least Thorne was upfront about their shit. This is fuckin' conspiracy stuff now.

[ It's when Sam mentions the Horizon itself that Julie's anxiety truly surfaces, and she gnaws at her bottom lip. ] Yeah, they can't get here now. What about when the Prime Minister, or the king and queen, or... whoever's in charge of Solvunn, what about when they grab one of us who can get here and force us to bring 'em? We got a good thing goin' here, and these new ones don't seem much like they're out to join the neighborhood and bake us cookies.

[ And that, she realizes as she says it, is the crux for her: this is all she has left. Julie is dead at home, and this place is the closest she's ever going to get back to it, so she can't stand to see it mucked up by the interference of those who seem eager to fight.

There is a wobble in her voice, just barely. ] What if that's why they're here? To wreck it all up?

We don't know that. [ honestly, sam isn't all that surprised at her view of all of this. if there's one thing he's picked up on during his time here is that more people than not are on the pessimistic side of the spectrum, ready to assume anyone and everyone they meet are out to get them. he doesn't blame them, everyone he's talked to has a reason to think that way. but it won't stop him from holding on to his own beliefs in all this. ] Until we give her a chance, we can't just write them all off. I'll talk to her, see what she has to say about it all, and we can go from there. If what she has to say is all lies, at least we'll know we tried.

[ he doesn't want to think about how much harder all of this will be if marlo really is just what julie thinks of her. it wouldn't be the first time the numbers weren't in their favor, but god, god he doesn't want that to be the case.

the moment her anxiety shows, though, sam is immediately in fix mode - pushing up from where he'd been leaning against the kitchen counter to take a step over towards where she's settled into the chair. ]

It's going to work out. Right now, no one can get into the Horizon but those of us brought here. And if people are being brought and asked to join a war, we just need to get to them too- the people in charge have no more sway over people's choices than we do. We'll talk to them, show them what's actually going on, and then we'll figure out a way to keep anyone from destroying anything.

[ sam isn't ready to get into the failed attempt by the queen, about what happened to relena. he doesn't know if julie knows about it and he doesn't think it'll help. not yet, at least.

plus, there's something else to what she says that has sam's brow furrowing. something that brings him to stand right in front of her and squat down a bit - the effect was so he wasn't standing over her, and it does at least part of that job. not that it matters, because even if he's looking up to her, the concern is clear across his face. ]

Hey- are you okay? [ because she's clearly not, but he's not going to force her to talk about it, either. ] Is there something else going on?

Y'know what happens when you give the government a chance, Sam? More than ninety-nine percent of life on Earth dies. And they don't just drop dead where they stand, no sir. They suffer. The lucky ones only have to go through it for a few days, but the ones who hang on for a few weeks... Every breath they take, they're swellin' up more and more, full of mucus and pus until you don't recognize 'em because they look more like a pissed-off bullfrog than a human. They suffocate to death, real slow, and there ain't nothin' you can do to help 'em. You ever see thousands of dead bodies, Sam? You ever had to cover up the kids and babies with every sheet and towel you can find? Because I have. And you know what the government, the politicians, was doin' while I was doin' that? They were tellin' us it was just a flu. That it would go away soon. They took the internet down, so we couldn't talk about it. And the whole time it was happenin', they knew, they knew, what they did. They made Captain Trips and they let it get loose, and while the president and all his lil' cronies were gettin' pumped full of morphine so they could die in peace, they left us to fend for ourselves. These people aren't any different than that, they just have magic to cover up their shit better.

[ She's been getting progressively more worked up as she speaks, and by the end, there are tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice choked and thick, her hands flung out to the sides, stuck from wildly gesturing the whole time. This is what Julie sees when she closes her eyes, when she sleeps, when she's not actively occupying herself or shoving various poisons into her body to try and quell it. The memories don't fade; the stench of thousands of rotting corpses is forever seared into her nostrils, the sound of their gasping for breath permanently echoing in her ears. She can hardly remember what it was like to not know.

And she hasn't even mentioned the fact that she's already died.

Once she finishes, it's like the wind has been knocked out of her, and her arms fall limp to her sides, her voice breaks. ]

I don't get to go back home. Ever. This is all I got left, Sam. If they take it from me over that stupid rock... where am I supposed to go?

[ the thing is - sam is quite used to asking people what is wrong. he's just as used to being ignored, when he does. or having to try and coax out bits and pieces of what makes up the stories of their lives over the course of their time together. and yes, he knew that everyone is different - clocked julie as not being one of the types to keep quiet and keep things close to the vest, if given the opportunity. but the fact she just opens up is...well in a weird way, kind of refreshing.

sam listens - his brow still furrowed, he frown deepening marginally, as she continues to pain the picture of what she left behind. it's sick, really - thinking about how the world can come to that, how sam isn't all that surprised to hear how the government handled things, what they turned it all into. he could argue, could try and press further into his reasonings for why he's trying, with marlo. why it's always worth trying, even when everything feels so overwhelmingly and unquestionably over. but he's been here, been through enough of this, to know there's very little use for that.

julie has no reason to believe a government body would do anything to help her, and sam doesn't blame her for that stance in the least. if anything, he feels a kind of anger on her behalf - of the hell she lived through, on the way she clawed her way to where she was. las vegas, in the midst of the end of the world.

there are tears in her eyes and on her cheeks when she finally comes to a kind of stop, her body tense and her breathing shallow. her arms fall to her sides, her gesturing done and over with, and sam lets her finish - all the way to the end. all the way through that broken, desperate question. and then, once she's had time to say it, he moves - not suddenly, exactly, but without hesitation - to lean forward and wrap his arms around her neck. to pull her close and tight for a hug. when he does finally speak, it's into her shoulder, or the side of her hair, because for as long as she doesn't pull away from him he's going to hold her in the hug. ]

I'm sorry, Julie. You've been through hell and back, and you shouldn't have had to. [ it's unimaginable, really, but sam doesn't think focusing on it will help. doesn't think she wants to hear, in this moment, about how strong she is, or what she's been through to get here. sam will apologize, for the fates or the world or whoever else owes her one, and then give her a squeeze. just one, where he holds her just a bit tighter, as his voice remains firm as he continues. ]

And you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to- you can stay here, or you can come back with me, or go wherever you want. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to, and we will figure this out, one way or another, stupid rock or not.

[ Some part of Julie is actually surprised he lets her finish. People have a tendency to ignore her at her most desperate, she's found, and those that don't completely disregard her don't have the mental bandwidth for her problems anyway. When every single person in the world has experienced almost identical trauma, then no one person's trauma is worth dealing with.

Sam hugs her and it's the first time she can remember being held for reassurance in years. Nothing behind it, nothing to gain. She shakes in his arms, and then he says he's sorry, sorry, and she realizes that no one has ever said that to her. Survivors don't say that to each other, and everyone she's told here has just given a vague platitude of sympathy. That sucks, and yeah, it does, and yeah, none of these people had anything to do with it, but there is something so comforting in just hearing someone say out loud that she didn't deserve everything that happened. An acknowledgment that she had suffered.

She sobs once against his shoulder, gasps. It's just been held in too long, that same way that a single person asking if you're all right when you're faking it can make you crack. Her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt at his sides, where she can't make her arms lift all the way. Her whisper is hoarse. ]

I just want them to leave us alone. All of us.

Edited 2021-11-18 06:13 (UTC)

[ she sobs, and sam simply holds it - lets his hand rub reassuringly against her back, letting her shake a bit under his arms. he can only imagine what it is she's dealing with, how trauma to that degree builds and builds until the body, quite literally, can't hold on to it. there is a good while here where sam doesn't say anything at all and just lets her work through it.

there is solid validity to a good cry, and sam has a feeling that even if julie has or hasn't had one, he doubts she's had one in any way feeling safe. or maybe not even safe, but reassured. her voice is hoarse when she speaks, and her fingers are at his sides, curled into the fabric of his shirt, and leans his face against the side of her hair. ]

I know. [ he offers, which isn't much but hopefully - in this moment - enough. ] They probably won't, but we can always keep trying. [ he squeezes her again, before letting go - not going far, but pulling back enough to get his hands on her shoulders, to get a look at her face. he really doesn't care the state she may or may not be in, because this is more for her to see him. how serious he is, how genuine, how much he means it when he says- ] Nothing's going to happen to you, Julie. Not if I have anything to say about it.

[ It takes her a minute to catch her breath, and she suddenly feels incredibly small and stupid. She hates feeling anything bad, and right now, she feels so much that's so bad. It doesn't occur to her that maybe it's because no one in her entire life has ever really cared about how she was feeling, never taught her to deal with it in any way except covering it up or lashing out. Or that maybe there is something to be said for having a man care about her without expecting something in exchange. Maybe she just forgot that there are people out there who actually can be trusted, who you don't have to approach with a shotgun and the assumption that they're going to hurt you. Who you don't have to step on just to have some leverage.

Sniffling, she wipes her eyes, rimmed in red and still watering as she looks at him. She nods and swallows hard, and her voice is still soft and weak. ]

Can I just stay here for a little bit? With you?

[ he can only assume what’s going through her head, at this point. can only assume what it is she’s carrying with her that doesn’t come to light. either way, sam knows he can be here for her, for this. it gives him a sudden feeling of hope that there is something he can help with. even if he’s not getting anyone home, he can at least do this.

so when she nods and wipes away at her eyes, sam smiles. it’s soft, and warm, and welcoming - everything he remembers from his mother, his parents. he doesn’t pull away, squeezes her shoulders instead. ] Absolutely. Hell, you can stay here as long as you want. Who needs a little while? [ one of his hands let’s go of her shoulder and comes up to cup the side of her face, just for a moment, before he leans forward and sets a gentle kiss to the top of her hair as he lifts to stand - a quick, gentle thing. reassuring. comforting, at least he hopes. ]

We’ve got comfy clothes and a couch with a tv full of bad movies and whatever the hell we want to pretend up in this kitchen. Who knows what we might get up to.

[ She laughs a little, looks down at herself, and it clicks that she also doesn't remember the last time she let herself be just comfortable. Captain Trips, the walk, Vegas, Abraxas -- none of it lent itself well to any kind of self-care or relaxation, and even if they did, she's the kind of person whose chosen post-apocalypse clothing choices involved a prom dress and fur jacket. And perhaps Sam hasn't noticed, but the clothing available to women in Abraxas is not... super comfy. Lots of layers and things to lace up.

Thinking for a second, she tries to come up with the last time she felt in any way as comforted as Sam has made her, and within seconds, a box manifests on the table next to her. God, she'd totally forgotten... She picks it up and shows it to him. ]

Brownies?

[ if she wanted, sam had rooms and closets full of every form of comfortable clothing imaginable. it doesn't even matter that she could change her own outfit on a whim. it the principle of the matter, if she wanted to head upstairs and put on sweats, she could.

still, when the box appears on the table next to her, sam's eyes go to it, curious. her offering has him smiling, one brow arched. ]

Brownies? [ and then he laugh, shrugging once and reaching for one. ] Why the hell not?

[ When he looks back at her, the shiny, sheer dress is gone, replaced by a matching set of sweats in rainbow tie-dye with little stars dotting the fabric, towering stilettos swapped for fluffy shearling slippers (she's definitely shrunk a few inches). It's not an outfit that comes from nowhere -- it's a nicer recreation of something she remembers wearing in high school, the last time she could remember wearing something meant only to feel good rather than look good, and it was mostly subconsciously manifested. Even her makeup has changed, all the obvious glitter and color gone.

Taking the box, she confidently walks over to the cabinets and begins searching for a bowl. ]

Brownie batter. Tell me your world has Breakfast Club. I might lose my damn mind if you never saw it before.

TO EVERYONE

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cw just because this is real pandemic-y

rip

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