Participants:
| Scene Title | Fuck This |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Friends come together to help Lucille with the news about her father. |
| Date | August 29, 2018 |
The sound of grunts and movement echo through the training hall of the Bunker. Morning time and Lucille had a lot on her mind. Her eyes are focused ahead of her as she executes a variety of movements akin to a dance each time she extends an arm, it's a strike towards an imaginary foes pressure point. Her nostrils flaring as she leaps ahead and tucks into a roll, landing across the room in a crouch.
Her breathing is easy, the tall woman slowly stands while staring at the wall, pale blue eyes taking in the detail, nothing of note. She told herself she wouldn't cry, Lucille had cried enough since hearing the news and so as the woman so hellbent on keeping it all together tries and tries she does the only thing she can do.
Erupt into sobs.
Berlin stands in the doorway, dressed to workout and carrying a towel over her shoulder. Someone else being here isn't odd. The crying is, a bit. She watches for a moment, like she's debating if she should interrupt or let Lucille have her privacy. Her gaze is distant, as it has been since the mission to Fort Irwin. But she kicks into gear after a beat and comes over to her friend.
"Luce," she says just before she slides an arm around her back, "hey, I'm here." Because Luce has friends here, family here, to lean on. Berlin doesn't ask what's wrong, not yet. Comfort first, Lucille can decide when she wants to share.
Feeling the arms of her friend Berlin send Lucille into further sobs, wracking her body as she tries to reign it in but she's held it back for too long. Only one other time had she burst out, the night she found out. “I haven't been able..” She can't speak and clutched Berlin’s arm as her eyes close and she says against the wall.
“I haven't been able to tell anyone. Not yet.” Lucille the feeling of sorrow sits in the pit of her stomach and it threatens to make her lose the contents within. “My dad.. he..” Lucille can't seem to stop herself from sobbing more. Berlin’s never seen her like this, not like this.
Obviously, it worries Berlin, seeing Luce like this. While she tries to explain, Berlin just pulls her into a hug, for lack of knowing what else to do. But, clearly, her friend needs to get the emotion out, and she's got a decent shoulder for crying on. Even if her gaze drifts to the middle distance, her hold on Luce is tight.
"You can tell me," she says, softly, "when you're ready." She moves to guide Lucille over to a bench, that it's a bench press doesn't matter, just having somewhere to sit is the important part. "I'll get you some water," she says, because it might help her calm some. And it gives Berlin something to do. Even though a bottle of water is never far in this room. She plucks one out of her own bag, flipping it in hand before she comes back over to sit on the bench, too.
Berlin knows they're not alone. Lucille does too. When color and contrast are painted into the room, those blotches take the form of Colette Demsky, dressed for training in a tank and loose pants, but too clean to have ever started. “Lucy?” Blind eyes go wide, and Colette slinks in on bare feet through the doorway, dropping her towel on the floor and bag with it.
Colette takes just a moment's pause before hastily moving over to settle in on Lucille’s other side, one arm sliding around her waist and a worried and inquisitive look briefly fired over her shoulder at Berlin, brows raised in worry. What the hell happened? The look practically screams.
“Hey, hey,” Colette whispers, resting her chin on Lucille’s shoulder. “I know Avi’s cooking is awful but it's not worth crying over,” she says in a vain attempt to elicit a laugh and ease things.
Seeing and hearing Colette and having Berlin’s support has Lucille’s emotions bubbling over and she can't help but cry and look grateful at the same time as Berlin brings her water and Colette offers a joke to ease the tension, a sharp bark of laughter and Lucille is tipping the water bottle back like she wishes it was the burn of liquor instead that she was experiencing. There's a moment of pause as she tries to compose herself. Drawing her breath in and releasing it slowly through her lips. “My dad..” hold it steady.
“My dad has cancer and it's killing him.” There the statement said Lucille sinks into the bench, her body shaking as she imagines him going through chemo or not and just wasting away in front of her. Either way that's the outcome, her father dead. Her cheeks wet with tears.
“I… there…” The muscles in her jaw clench as she goes rigid. “Not many words.”
When Colette joins them, Berlin looks past Lucille over to her. There's enough panic in her expression to answer Colette's look with I don't know. But also please help. Because she isn't sure what to do. She ran through her ideas already.
But when Luce starts to explain, she looks back to her, panic giving way to paling features. She can only imagine what her friend is going through, what her whole family is going through, but she knows it's scary. A number of thoughts run through her head as she sits in silence. Practical things. Questions Lucille probably doesn't know the answer to and really shouldn't have to answer right now. So it's a long wait before Berlin speaks up again.
"Luce. I'm— so sorry," she says, sounding almost guilty, as if she feels like she should have a better response.
The look on Colette’s face is one frozen in horror. Her eyes wander reflexively, mouth open and brows screwed up in a mixture of grief and confusion. She can't help but tear up at the notion, can't help but feel the sympathetic pain. But Colette has no words, instead she just pulls Lucille in closer and wraps one arm around her shoulders and lets her hand wind up into her hair, cradling Lucille’s head against her shoulder.
Over the top of Lucille’s head, Colette meets Berlin’s eyes with a look of overwrought helplessness, slowly shaking her head and unsure of what — if anything — they can do other than be there for her. Pressing her nose to the top of Lucille’s head, Colette does the one thing she does well other than illuminate. She comforts.
Lucille is silent for a time, clinging to both other women with eyes closed, she feels protected in the arms of Colette and Berlin, safe but the biting winter of sorrow that came with the news of her dad’s illness waits for her and Lucille realizes just how cold you can see the world. Dad was her light.
“I.. there has to be something to do. We’re in the age of people who can fucking fly.” Momentarily sounding frustrated though it sounds like that frustration has been brewing deep within her. Luce tries to shake it off. “I just—” choking back a noise, “I just thought he’d go down fighting, during the war or..” not like this. Slow and agonizing as the others watch. “I use to hate him, once I learned about his past with the Company, why he was never around. It took awhile for us to get close again.”
The ticking clock is running out of time Lucille can practically hear the clock hands twitching when she was around Ryans. “I don't want to lose him.”
"We can… put the word out, see if we have any contacts who might be able to help. You'd need a pretty weighty healer." It's really more a task than a hope, something to do other than sit and wait. But, they do live in the age of flying people. Berlin tilts her head a little, though, and she gives Luce a small, sad smile. "Whatever happens, we're here for you. Okay?"
She does not say what's going through her head. That losing him to the fight would be just as hard. Different, but still hard. Death is never easy.
Those last words get a heavy sigh, a shaky sigh, before she puts a hand on Lucille's cheek. "Spend every minute you can get with him. If you need to take some time, Hana and Avi will understand. If you need work therapy, I'm sure they'll understand that, too. But don't hide from him, okay? He'll need his family." When it gets bad, she means.
“I can start looking,” Colette says reassuringly. “There's used to be a bunch of healers back in the Ferry’s heyday we had as contacts. I don't know if Miss Hadley is still alive or… or I— I don’t know. We can figure it out. I'll talk to Tavisha, he’ll know.” She has that much faith in her bird-spy.
“But he's still here,” Colette is quick to add. “He's still with you, an' that's what matters right now. Like— like what Lin said. All that matters is that we’re here for you, an’ that you're here for him.” Once again, Colette regards Berlin over Lucille’s back, offering her a reassuring smile, then looks back down to Lucille.
“We've had crazier miracles,” Colette adds with an emotionally charged attempt smile. “You remember after you rescued me? How everybody at Pollepel got sick, an’ there wasn't enough medicine? An’ we thought everybody was gonna die? An’ then the whole thing just— cleared up. People started gettin' better.”
Eyes glassy, Colette squeezes Lucille tighter around the waist. “We live in an age of fucking miracles. Ben Ryans deserves at least one'f em.”
The support pouring out from her girls is felt and Lucille clings to it wordlessly as she nods along with their words and ideas. Yes that's right, The Ferrymen has healers. They had contacts. This was the Mutant age god damn it. The tall woman clings to her friends physically too. “We’ve been through tragic event after tragic event.. we can make this.” Speaking of her family and herself, talking herself up.
She can't run. “I always run.” It's a tough thing to admit and it's even what she's been debating since the news broke. “My body and mind are screaming for me to follow through with our.. normal way of dealing.” This won't change the cancer though. This won't change that she's losing a parent, her dad and for all the complicated feelings she has had for her father over the years this is not what she wants. Life was unfair but Lucille had learned that the day that Mary Ryans perished in the bomb.
If anyone deserved a miracle.. “You’ve never been more right.” Leaning back to stare at her two best friends, Lucille actually cracks a small smile, “It's really not funny but.. Delia.. when she heard she face planted headfirst into the table. She does that with her dreaming,” though Lucille is sure she's told the two stories of her younger sister’s escapades in the dreamworld over the years. Lucille starts to laugh loudly, tears still streaming down her face. “It was so funny though.” she's hysterical.
“I should go see Greg.” A look over to Colette. They share a therapist after all.
Berlin's attention moves from Lucille to Colette and back, expression turned pensive. She never met Luce's dad; for her, the miracle they need wouldn't be for Ben Ryans, but for his daughter. Her arm stays around Luce, her head tilted as she listens to her— her confession all the way through her manic laughter— without much change to her. However Lucille needs to grieve, Berlin's gonna sit with her through it.
Those last words get her attention, though, and she gives her a gentle squeeze.
"We'll go with you. Right to the door." Which is supportive, yes, but also firm. She's going to see Greg, whether she likes it or not, probably.