Participants:
| Scene Title | Just Live |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A number of people seem to want that of her. |
| Date | Nov 8, 2010 |
Textile Factory, Operations HQ
When she walks into the Operations Headquarters, Elisabeth's blue eyes skim over the scattered personnel with a shuttered expression. She has already dropped off her helmet with the tech geeks and Kershner's already been informed of the situation, which means Liz is carrying one of the standardized helmets with her and she is less than pleased. She heads for the corner that she habitually claims for herself only to find Felix already in residence on her couch. Dammit! One part of her is perturbed — she wanted to think alone. If that's not possible, thinking while tucked under an ex-Feeb's arm seems…. a reasonable replacement for that. She plops down next to him, dropping her helmet on the floor at her feet, and tucks herself right in under his arm without even a greeting.
It's like watching a grayhound curl up on a couch. Somehow, all that long bones, big eyes, and lean muscle folds up into an absurdly small package. But he unfolds himself to put an arm around her, and kisses thetop of her head. His eyes are gleaming, though, and he's tense with anticipation. He doesn't speak, but kisses her on the ear.
Elisabeth drops her head to his shoulder and sighs quietly. "This is going to be the longest day ever," she murmurs. "I'll be beyond glad to see the sun go down today."
"Yeah. It's like being on the beach at Normandy on June 6th, isn't it?" She can feel his heart pattering along, already high enough that in anyone else, it'd be a cardiac incident. "KEep your goddamn helmet on, Liz. Keep it on," he says, suddenly, turning a blue stare on her.
There's a soft sigh and Elisabeth murmurs, "Richard told you something, didn't he?"
"He told me to tell you that," Felix says, and that long, wolfish jaw sets into that stubborn line. "Liz, swear to me you will. Swear it."
There's a long silence from her, and Elisabeth slants a look around the room. She encloses the two of them in a silence field. "I've… known for quite a while that his flash included my death somehow," she tells Felix softly, refusing to look up at him. "I didn't know…. that he'd seen himself order my death." She turns her face into his shoulder now, her voice a bit muffled as she tries to hide tears from the room at large. "Anytime he's actually gotten any sleep the past couple of months, he's woken in a cold sweat. I knew he was … stressing about it. But… he never told me about the vision. He just… told me at one point that it didn't matter what he'd seen cuz it was not fucking going to happen." Her jaw clenches.
"It isn't going to happen," Felix agrees. His tone is casual, offhand. But she's seen that look in his eyes before, many a time. That insane stubborness. Sarisa noted, when she recruited him, that for all his build and speed, he's more bulldog than greyhound. Inclined to sink his teeth in and hang on to the very death. She was right.
"I always knew that he'd do… whatever it took. Sacrifice … anything in trying to do the right thing. I didn't…. " Elisabeth bites her lip and whispers, "I can't comprehend that he gave that order. But I know that in a future that won't happen now, he did." She's not making as much sense as she probably could. "He told Lola to put a bullet in my head and she did. And part of me…. feels like if I just hold on tightly enough, if I show him enough that he's a better person with me than without me… he'll see what I see in him. And I'm smothering both of us lately, and I can't make myself stop, Felix. I'm actively ruining things." Her breath huffs out in a soft sob against his shoulder, and she whispers, "And I don't know how to tell him I'm sorry without telling him the rest of what I know about that timeline. And I don't know if that will just make things worse."
"You need to tell him," No hesitation in Felix. "You and he are both getting hung up on what-might've-beens. You aren't going to die in the next two days, Liz, because you're going to keep your goddamn helmet on, and I am going to stick to you like a cheap suit on a tall man. Understand? But you knew what he was when you picked him up. Let him be that, Liz. You can't change him."
"Worst thing is, I don't want to fucking well change him," Elisabeth admits. "I wouldn't have fallen for him any other way." She reaches up and wipes away the tears, a soft sniff accompanying the movement. "I died a year ago," she says softly. "I've been on borrowed time ever since then, Felix. If my number's up…. I don't think there's a damn thing that's going to stop it. And I'll keep the helmet on as much as possible, but… sometimes I can't do the damn job in the standard one. If it comes to the choice between doing what I have to and keeping my own head…. you can't think I'll choose anything else." It's not in her.
"You keep choosing these straight guys with these messiah complexes," Fel says, voice mild, only a little accusing. "I mean, we'll all do our duty, but think of yourself. It's not going to be like that."
Elisabeth starts to chuckle softly. "What I ought to do is settle my ass down with gay man who loves me just the way I am in spite of it all," she agrees lazily, scooting into a more companionable slump. "Or better yet…. what I really need to do is get my fucking little black book out and just ignore the whole damn thing. Cuz you know what? I don't need this stress. I have enough shit stressing me out. Getting through today's just the beginning, you know," she admits quietly. "It's going to get a lot worse. Today's the shot heard round the world."
Felix flicks her a keen look. "That's exactly what you should do. You should marry me." He means this. Or so it seems. He does have an amazing deadpan.
"Mmmm. And when I do that, it's almost guaranteed that some handsome man will turn up on the scene and you'll fall head over heels for him and then I'll be a fuckin' divorcee — and I'm avoiding that statistic like the plague," Elisabeth retorts on a grin. "Anyway, thanks for listening to me bitch. I'm sorry I downloaded on you."
"I wouldn't," FEl asserts, lifting his chin, and making the stubborn hyena face.
Elisabeth smirks. "Of course not," she murmurs. "Because you're Russian — and tragedy, suffering, and star-crossed lovers are hardcoded into your DNA or some shit like that." She nudges him sideways and then lays her head down again.
Felix ponders that for a long moment. "No, I'm Russian, which means that alcoholism, brutal sex,and suicidal bravery in defense of my homeland are what's hardcoded."
There's a long moment of absolute silence and then Elisabeth starts to giggle. "Goddamn, Felix…. tell it like it really is." Or something. But it amuses the hell out of her and relaxes her a little, which might be what he was going for.
Felix notes, comfortably, "But you knew all that," And then he flashes her one of those immense grins.
It's one of the reasons that she loves him like she does. Because Felix has the unique ability to take every situation and make it look …. ridiculous. "So you're sticking to me like glue today, and I swear I'll wear my helmet except as a last resort," she says hugging him tightly. "Anything else I have to promise?"
"Live, Liz, live. That's all I'm after. Fuck the president," Felix says, comfortably. "They can just deport my ass back to Siberia."
He's the second man to tell her that this week. Elisabeth is quiet. "Love you too, Feeb," she murmurs softly. The hours are going to crawl by and yet she wishes they could just stop time. There's nothing to be done now but ride it out.
