[ she steps a little closer, reaching out to touch one of his arms now that it no longer glows. it feels natural to touch him, boundaries erected in wakefulness not translating into the dream. ]
[ he reaches for her hand, pulling it closer and then extending his hand again, letting a warm, muted version of the light she'd seen flaring up in his arms extend envelope her hand and up her arm.
it's when he does that that he remembers another time he's done this. he blinks, taking a few steps back, light going out abruptly. he remembers who he'd done that before, why he'd done it, and what it had signaled, and that ache that he's so good at keeping controlled seems to overtake him for a second. ]
They even, uh, gave me a code name. [ that he doesn't use. he immediately goes for this instead of dwelling on his momentary stumble. ] Eclipse.
[ for a moment, everything is warm and light and beautiful, bobbi's face lighting up with it — his light washing over her, but something like awe and interest coming from inside her, making her eyes bright.
then he's stumbling back, the light gone, blinking at her, and bobbi feels bereft. ]
All right?
[ it didn't seem like it cost him any effort, but for a moment, she's not sure if the stumble was a physical reaction or something else entirely.
the change in his stance, the shift in his expression tells her enough, after a moment. ]
I have one, too. [ she offers after a moment, letting her hand fall to her side. ] Mockingbird.
[ it's easier to focus on that then the question. because the question means opening that wound even more (and he knows, somehow, that it's going to be opened anyway very shortly) and he doesn't want to do that just yet. ]
Where'd that one come from? [ his eyes skim around the apartment, taking in the remnants of another life. but then here she was, standing in the middle of that old life, like she had nowhere else to be.
it made no sense, it made all the sense. he cards his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath. outside, people walk by the room but no one knocks.
Honestly? I'm not sure. Somehow, that's what I got stuck with.
[ like "barbara" as a first name. she minds mockingbird less than barbara, really.
and there's something going on here that she can't quite put her finger on. he seems to know where they are, what's going on — or he's waiting for something.
[ he feels like he's under a microscope, like she's asking but not asking. he swallows and rubs the back of his neck. for a few seconds, nothing happens and he thinks that maybe this is going to be different for some reason.
he starts to open his mouth to ask her a question when the knock that he'd somehow been expecting comes. but marcos doesn't move towards the door. he doesn't move at all. ]
Go away!
[ he doesn't want company (no matter that he has company). but, whoever is on the other side of that door doesn't take no for an answer. the lights in the apartment, already dim and dull, start flickering. they're descended into darkness before the lights come back on and the locks on the door start undoing themselves, one after another. he watches, barely registering bobbi's presence because he just knows what's on the other side of that door and it feels like his heart is beating out of his chest.
the door swings open and there she is.
there they both are. lorna and his daughter, lorna and the daughter he'd only seen once and marcos can only stare, barely hanging onto his blank expression. barely. his hands curl into his fists but he doesn't move.
and finally lorna asks to come in and doesn't wait for an answer. she comes in, eyes flicking over to bobbi but dismissing her fairly quickly. if she has questions, she doesn't ask them.
marcos opens his mouth but his lip trembles and no sound comes out. he hates this. he hates that he's here again. ]
[ there's a knock on the door and marcos all but forgets about bobbi — and the woman who comes in barely looks at her, too. (lorna, bobbi's mind supplies. she'd never spoken to her, but she knows she was in new amsterdam for a while. long enough for bobbi, who makes a point of knowing these things, to have learned her name and face.)
there's a baby in lorna's arms.
somehow, in the dream, this makes sense. somehow, it gets filed away and bobbi lets herself fade into the background because that seems to be her role here and somehow that, too, makes sense. (it shouldn't, but it does.) ]
[ he remembers lorna's face like a knife, like a scar. he remembers her because she's always with him, no matter what. he remembers how much he loved her, how he would do anything for her. and he remembers the baby in her arms too. his baby. the daughter he'd been allowed to see just once before he'd been expelled from her life again.
and now here they are again and he can't stop the false hope that comes from thinking she's come back. he hates himself for that especially since she immediately tells him that she's sending dawn away.
he has to physically fight the urge to bend over, to put his hands on his knees and hyperventilate. ]
Lorna, I won't let you do this. So, please just g-give her to me. [ he extends his arms, eyes flicking dawn to the bundled baby. but lorna doesn't give dawn to him. she starts explaining that she's found a school and that's where dawn will be safe. ]
I will keep her safe. She's my daughter and that's what parents do. That's what they do! I'll do anything.
[ and he means it. he would do anything, absolutely anything. walk on hot coals, change sides, kill someone that she asked him to kill, anything. he would do anything. ]
I'll figure it out. That's what parents do! They don't give up.
[ lorna argues, says she's not giving up but marcos scoffs and turns his back on her. she says she's being realistic and then asks him if he's going to shoot lasers at the whole world before she tells him the world's already on fire and marcos just...loses it. he feels the dam of anger and hurt and sadness break and it pumps through him like a poison. ]
Yeah, because of you! [ his voice is rough, angry, harsh, a marked change from how people usually hear him. dawn fusses and lorna looks away. ]
You and Reeva and all your new friends, you set the world on fire and now you're worried that your daughter might get burned. [ he laughs but it's not funny. he wants to punch something, hit someone, but he turns away, raising his hands and watching the light flare up, a bright, hot thing that he barely keeps to himself. ]
You're a real piece of work, you know that? [ his breath comes in sharp gasps, black spots dotting his vision. and then lorna rips out the rest of his heart when she says she's here not to fight but to let him say goodbye. ]
We promised not to be like our fathers and look what you're doing. [ but lorna doesn't relent. she wants her daughter to grow up hating her than to not grow up at all. do you want to say goodbye to your daughter or not? she asks and he makes a pained sound that he can't keep to himself. ]
But I don't even know her. [ his voice cracks, breaks. ] How am I supposed to say goodbye?
[ some part of bobbi realises that she's not supposed to see this. that this is a nightmare, a memory, the kind of thing he'd rather keep from her. some part of her realises it — but the realisation doesn't penetrate the dream, not really.
there's also part of her that thinks it's good that she's here. she's a spy, she thrives on information — but she wants to be there for marcos, too. more than once, she finds herself almost reaching out, but no. not with lorna in the room.
so bobbi lets it play out, standing apart, her heart aching for the man she married in zerzura, the man she loved and had a daughter with. (later, she'll realise how much worse it must have been for him to wake up, knowing that they didn't really have a daughter, having another child ripped from him.) ]
[ marcos knows he's not going to convince her to let him have dawn. she's going to take his daughter and he's never going to see her again. so, he takes the chance to hold his daughter. lorna doesn't hesitate in passing her to him and once marcos has her, he wanders into the bedroom for privacy.
or something like privacy. he leaves the door open so both women can see him and then just...sways. dances. holds his daughter and moves back and forth softly, having eyes only for her. he tries not to cry because he doesn't want dawn to pick up on his upset but it'll come.
later. lorna doesn't say anything to bobbi but her eyes do flick over every so often. the situation isn't right for questions that. they leave marcos to his daughter.
it's not nearly enough time. it's too short before lorna's stepping closer and telling him it's time.
she's going to take dawn and he's not going to see her again. he looks up, anguish in his eyes but lorna doesn't budge. ]
Who's gonna hold her? And tell her she's s-special? Who's gonna love her, Lorna? [ she doesn't give him an answer. she closes her eyes, breathes and then tells him she's sorry but it's time to go.
he exhales and looks down at his daughter again. ] I love you, Dawn. Te amo, mi Aurora. [ lorna steps closer, reaching to take dawn from him and his body shivers, shoulders shaking. ]
Lorna, she deserves to be with her family. You get that, right? [ lorna looks at him and he hopes. like an idiot, he hopes but then she turns to go. the door clicks shut and they're alone again. he has to move, has to do something and he does, stumbling over to pick up two empty chinese containers from off the coffee table.
but he can't. he can't be normal. he throws the containers away and then upends the table, screaming as he does it, unable to hold it back anymore. ]
[ bobbi watches and breathes and aches for him and when lorna leaves, she almost makes a move to stop her — but that isn't how it goes, is it? that isn't how it goes and she doesn't move quickly enough or doesn't move at all and marcos is screaming and upending the table and finally, finally bobbi does move.
she reaches for him and folds him into an embrace and doesn't say anything because sometimes i'm sorry isn't enough. ]
[ he resists for a second, pushes against her because he wants to break things. he needs to do something to get the fury that's inside of him out. he thrashes and shoves but it doesn't last.
seconds later, he sags against her, pressing his face against her shoulder and wrapping one arm around her waist to keep from hitting the ground. he cries and he cries and he hates it but he can't stop.
he hates this dream, he hate this nightmare, he hates that he's lost so much, that he's so easy to leave. ]
[ for a moment, he struggles — and bobbi moves with him, keeps holding him, sure in this when she wasn't sure about what to make of anything that's come before this.
she's proven right when he sags against her a moment later and breaks down. she wraps her arms around him and holds him and sways a little the way he had with his daughter in his arms and her heart still aches because even in this dream, she knows that no one was there for him when it happened. ]
[ that she'd seen this, that he hadn't told her, that she'd been pulled into this memory — this dream — without her consent, that he'd fought against her, that he couldn't keep himself together.
he was sorry for a lot of things.
he swipes at his eyes with his forearm, sniffing and trying valiantly to gather up his composure again. he doesn't know why his mind's done to this to him, made him relive it again, and brought bobbi along.
he trusts her and was going to tell her about this but instead she'd seen the truth in the worst possible way. ]
I'm okay. [ a lie. ] I don't — I don't know why this happened.
[ he draws back eventually and this time, bobbi almost resists. she doesn't, in the end. this isn't about her, this isn't about remembering what it feels like to hold him or be held by him. this is something she shouldn't have seen, something she half wishes she hadn't and is glad, for the other half, that she had, because he shouldn't have to carry that all alone.
(she isn't his wife. his pain isn't hers to share.) ]
You don't have anything to apologise for.
[ he tries to compose himself and she's no longer holding him, but she keeps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. she's not quite able to sever the connection between them and she doesn't want him to feel alone, be alone. ]
[ he shakes his head, still raw and confused about this, about how she was here. but she was and he's grateful for it because he remembers how this happened when it first happened. he remembers how awful and alone and desolate he'd felt.
he wipes his eyes again but the tears don't stop leaking. ]
I have a daughter.
[ he knows she knows now but he's saying it anyway. ]
I've only seen her twice. That was the last time.
[ she was gone now, spirited away by her mother against his wishes. his arms feel empty now. ]
[ it's not enough. she knew it wouldn't be. bobbi may have been married, but she never had a child before silena. what she knows is that she loved silena with all her heart, that she would have done anything for her.
marcos is still crying and bobbi uses the hand on his shoulder to tug him forward, back into an embrace if he wants it, if he'll let her. this time, she isn't going to fight any resistance he puts up. ]
You're a good father. [ this she knows without a doubt. ]
[ he doesn't resist. he steps forward and crumples again, making a note to apologize for basically making her hold him upright after all this. they're standing in the mess he's made and she's basically keeping him from laying on the floor and falling apart. ]
I didn't get a chance to be a good anything.
[ not to dawn. maybe never to dawn. there was some measure of comfort that she was going to be safe wherever she was but it was miniscule. he'd promised that he wouldn't be like his father but lorna had taken the choice away from him. ]
[ she remembers him with silena. she may not have been his real daughter, their marriage may not have been real — but it had felt real and he'd been so good. he'd been an amazing husband and father.
bobbi swallows, closing her eyes against that thought, curling her fingers into his hair and carding them through it. ]
I'm sorry.
[ still not enough, but she holds him and hopes that that, at least, helps. ]
[ it helps. it's never going to be enough to ease the open wound from the loss of dawn but it helps. he swallows and breathes roughly against her shoulder. he should say something, anything, but he doesn't know what to say.
she's seen one of the worst times of his life and she's still here, trying to help him, trying to comfort him. ]
Thanks.
[ for being there, for saying that, for trying. it's a lot. he stays like that, in the circle of her arms with his face hidden in her shoulder as the tears finally start to abate. he doesn't know what he's going to do after this, when he's done crying.
this is something from his past but he has no idea how to get out of it. he takes a shaky breath and sighs, quietly standing there with her. ]
[ he doesn't have to say or do anything. he doesn't have to pull himself together and he doesn't have to get out of it. not right now, not yet.
bobbi doesn't say anything, just hums in acknowledgement, her cheek resting against marcos's hair, fingers still carding through it. she can stay here for as long as he needs, for as long as the dream lasts, time feeling meaningless. ]
[ marcos takes another breath, shaky and strained, before he picks his head up again. the tears have finally dried but his eyes are red and he looks haggard, exhausted. he knows he really doesn't have time to sit and rest because of everything that's going on here, in his dream, in the past, and what's going on in new amsterdam. ]
I was hoping to tell you all this without...this.
[ he gestures at their surroundings and his world at large. ]
This is where I came from before I got dropped in New Amsterdam. Helping lead something called the Mutant Underground.
The Mutant Underground. [ bobbi lets that linger on her tongue for a moment, focusing on that instead of on the first part of what he'd said because —
because it's easier on both of them, probably. because she doesn't want to make this harder on him. because she doesn't know what to say and doesn't want to make it harder on herself, either. ]
Resistance against - what? Military, law enforcement?
[ he's joking but it's not untrue. he swallows and gestures to the couch that he's recently nearly trashed after lorna's exit. it takes him a moment to move away from her and sit down but once he does, he starts talking. ]
There was an incident a few years ago where a mutant rights rally got out of control and people were killed that were innocent. Mutants were blamed and we've been...basically running since then. Between the government, Setinentl Services, and the Purifiers, we're mostly underground because it's the safest place.
[ but even that's falling apart. ] I don't know how much else I can take from all this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ she steps a little closer, reaching out to touch one of his arms now that it no longer glows. it feels natural to touch him, boundaries erected in wakefulness not translating into the dream. ]
Is that what it looks like? Your mutation.
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[ he reaches for her hand, pulling it closer and then extending his hand again, letting a warm, muted version of the light she'd seen flaring up in his arms extend envelope her hand and up her arm.
it's when he does that that he remembers another time he's done this. he blinks, taking a few steps back, light going out abruptly. he remembers who he'd done that before, why he'd done it, and what it had signaled, and that ache that he's so good at keeping controlled seems to overtake him for a second. ]
They even, uh, gave me a code name. [ that he doesn't use. he immediately goes for this instead of dwelling on his momentary stumble. ] Eclipse.
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then he's stumbling back, the light gone, blinking at her, and bobbi feels bereft. ]
All right?
[ it didn't seem like it cost him any effort, but for a moment, she's not sure if the stumble was a physical reaction or something else entirely.
the change in his stance, the shift in his expression tells her enough, after a moment. ]
I have one, too. [ she offers after a moment, letting her hand fall to her side. ] Mockingbird.
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[ it's easier to focus on that then the question. because the question means opening that wound even more (and he knows, somehow, that it's going to be opened anyway very shortly) and he doesn't want to do that just yet. ]
Where'd that one come from? [ his eyes skim around the apartment, taking in the remnants of another life. but then here she was, standing in the middle of that old life, like she had nowhere else to be.
it made no sense, it made all the sense. he cards his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath. outside, people walk by the room but no one knocks.
not yet. ]
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[ like "barbara" as a first name. she minds mockingbird less than barbara, really.
and there's something going on here that she can't quite put her finger on. he seems to know where they are, what's going on — or he's waiting for something.
she decides to wait him out. ]
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he starts to open his mouth to ask her a question when the knock that he'd somehow been expecting comes. but marcos doesn't move towards the door. he doesn't move at all. ]
Go away!
[ he doesn't want company (no matter that he has company). but, whoever is on the other side of that door doesn't take no for an answer. the lights in the apartment, already dim and dull, start flickering. they're descended into darkness before the lights come back on and the locks on the door start undoing themselves, one after another. he watches, barely registering bobbi's presence because he just knows what's on the other side of that door and it feels like his heart is beating out of his chest.
the door swings open and there she is.
there they both are. lorna and his daughter, lorna and the daughter he'd only seen once and marcos can only stare, barely hanging onto his blank expression. barely. his hands curl into his fists but he doesn't move.
and finally lorna asks to come in and doesn't wait for an answer. she comes in, eyes flicking over to bobbi but dismissing her fairly quickly. if she has questions, she doesn't ask them.
marcos opens his mouth but his lip trembles and no sound comes out. he hates this. he hates that he's here again. ]
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there's a baby in lorna's arms.
somehow, in the dream, this makes sense. somehow, it gets filed away and bobbi lets herself fade into the background because that seems to be her role here and somehow that, too, makes sense. (it shouldn't, but it does.) ]
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and now here they are again and he can't stop the false hope that comes from thinking she's come back. he hates himself for that especially since she immediately tells him that she's sending dawn away.
he has to physically fight the urge to bend over, to put his hands on his knees and hyperventilate. ]
Lorna, I won't let you do this. So, please just g-give her to me. [ he extends his arms, eyes flicking dawn to the bundled baby. but lorna doesn't give dawn to him. she starts explaining that she's found a school and that's where dawn will be safe. ]
I will keep her safe. She's my daughter and that's what parents do. That's what they do! I'll do anything.
[ and he means it. he would do anything, absolutely anything. walk on hot coals, change sides, kill someone that she asked him to kill, anything. he would do anything. ]
I'll figure it out. That's what parents do! They don't give up.
[ lorna argues, says she's not giving up but marcos scoffs and turns his back on her. she says she's being realistic and then asks him if he's going to shoot lasers at the whole world before she tells him the world's already on fire and marcos just...loses it. he feels the dam of anger and hurt and sadness break and it pumps through him like a poison. ]
Yeah, because of you! [ his voice is rough, angry, harsh, a marked change from how people usually hear him. dawn fusses and lorna looks away. ]
You and Reeva and all your new friends, you set the world on fire and now you're worried that your daughter might get burned. [ he laughs but it's not funny. he wants to punch something, hit someone, but he turns away, raising his hands and watching the light flare up, a bright, hot thing that he barely keeps to himself. ]
You're a real piece of work, you know that? [ his breath comes in sharp gasps, black spots dotting his vision. and then lorna rips out the rest of his heart when she says she's here not to fight but to let him say goodbye. ]
We promised not to be like our fathers and look what you're doing. [ but lorna doesn't relent. she wants her daughter to grow up hating her than to not grow up at all. do you want to say goodbye to your daughter or not? she asks and he makes a pained sound that he can't keep to himself. ]
But I don't even know her. [ his voice cracks, breaks. ] How am I supposed to say goodbye?
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there's also part of her that thinks it's good that she's here. she's a spy, she thrives on information — but she wants to be there for marcos, too. more than once, she finds herself almost reaching out, but no. not with lorna in the room.
so bobbi lets it play out, standing apart, her heart aching for the man she married in zerzura, the man she loved and had a daughter with. (later, she'll realise how much worse it must have been for him to wake up, knowing that they didn't really have a daughter, having another child ripped from him.) ]
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or something like privacy. he leaves the door open so both women can see him and then just...sways. dances. holds his daughter and moves back and forth softly, having eyes only for her. he tries not to cry because he doesn't want dawn to pick up on his upset but it'll come.
later. lorna doesn't say anything to bobbi but her eyes do flick over every so often. the situation isn't right for questions that. they leave marcos to his daughter.
it's not nearly enough time. it's too short before lorna's stepping closer and telling him it's time.
she's going to take dawn and he's not going to see her again. he looks up, anguish in his eyes but lorna doesn't budge. ]
Who's gonna hold her? And tell her she's s-special? Who's gonna love her, Lorna? [ she doesn't give him an answer. she closes her eyes, breathes and then tells him she's sorry but it's time to go.
he exhales and looks down at his daughter again. ] I love you, Dawn. Te amo, mi Aurora. [ lorna steps closer, reaching to take dawn from him and his body shivers, shoulders shaking. ]
Lorna, she deserves to be with her family. You get that, right? [ lorna looks at him and he hopes. like an idiot, he hopes but then she turns to go. the door clicks shut and they're alone again. he has to move, has to do something and he does, stumbling over to pick up two empty chinese containers from off the coffee table.
but he can't. he can't be normal. he throws the containers away and then upends the table, screaming as he does it, unable to hold it back anymore. ]
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she reaches for him and folds him into an embrace and doesn't say anything because sometimes i'm sorry isn't enough. ]
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seconds later, he sags against her, pressing his face against her shoulder and wrapping one arm around her waist to keep from hitting the ground. he cries and he cries and he hates it but he can't stop.
he hates this dream, he hate this nightmare, he hates that he's lost so much, that he's so easy to leave. ]
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she's proven right when he sags against her a moment later and breaks down. she wraps her arms around him and holds him and sways a little the way he had with his daughter in his arms and her heart still aches because even in this dream, she knows that no one was there for him when it happened. ]
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[ that she'd seen this, that he hadn't told her, that she'd been pulled into this memory — this dream — without her consent, that he'd fought against her, that he couldn't keep himself together.
he was sorry for a lot of things.
he swipes at his eyes with his forearm, sniffing and trying valiantly to gather up his composure again. he doesn't know why his mind's done to this to him, made him relive it again, and brought bobbi along.
he trusts her and was going to tell her about this but instead she'd seen the truth in the worst possible way. ]
I'm okay. [ a lie. ] I don't — I don't know why this happened.
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(she isn't his wife. his pain isn't hers to share.) ]
You don't have anything to apologise for.
[ he tries to compose himself and she's no longer holding him, but she keeps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. she's not quite able to sever the connection between them and she doesn't want him to feel alone, be alone. ]
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he wipes his eyes again but the tears don't stop leaking. ]
I have a daughter.
[ he knows she knows now but he's saying it anyway. ]
I've only seen her twice. That was the last time.
[ she was gone now, spirited away by her mother against his wishes. his arms feel empty now. ]
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[ it's not enough. she knew it wouldn't be. bobbi may have been married, but she never had a child before silena. what she knows is that she loved silena with all her heart, that she would have done anything for her.
marcos is still crying and bobbi uses the hand on his shoulder to tug him forward, back into an embrace if he wants it, if he'll let her. this time, she isn't going to fight any resistance he puts up. ]
You're a good father. [ this she knows without a doubt. ]
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I didn't get a chance to be a good anything.
[ not to dawn. maybe never to dawn. there was some measure of comfort that she was going to be safe wherever she was but it was miniscule. he'd promised that he wouldn't be like his father but lorna had taken the choice away from him. ]
I just wanted the chance.
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bobbi swallows, closing her eyes against that thought, curling her fingers into his hair and carding them through it. ]
I'm sorry.
[ still not enough, but she holds him and hopes that that, at least, helps. ]
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she's seen one of the worst times of his life and she's still here, trying to help him, trying to comfort him. ]
Thanks.
[ for being there, for saying that, for trying. it's a lot. he stays like that, in the circle of her arms with his face hidden in her shoulder as the tears finally start to abate. he doesn't know what he's going to do after this, when he's done crying.
this is something from his past but he has no idea how to get out of it. he takes a shaky breath and sighs, quietly standing there with her. ]
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bobbi doesn't say anything, just hums in acknowledgement, her cheek resting against marcos's hair, fingers still carding through it. she can stay here for as long as he needs, for as long as the dream lasts, time feeling meaningless. ]
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I was hoping to tell you all this without...this.
[ he gestures at their surroundings and his world at large. ]
This is where I came from before I got dropped in New Amsterdam. Helping lead something called the Mutant Underground.
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because it's easier on both of them, probably. because she doesn't want to make this harder on him. because she doesn't know what to say and doesn't want to make it harder on herself, either. ]
Resistance against - what? Military, law enforcement?
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[ he's joking but it's not untrue. he swallows and gestures to the couch that he's recently nearly trashed after lorna's exit. it takes him a moment to move away from her and sit down but once he does, he starts talking. ]
There was an incident a few years ago where a mutant rights rally got out of control and people were killed that were innocent. Mutants were blamed and we've been...basically running since then. Between the government, Setinentl Services, and the Purifiers, we're mostly underground because it's the safest place.
[ but even that's falling apart. ] I don't know how much else I can take from all this.
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in the end, she settles down next to him. he did gesture, after all. ]
How long have you been fighting?
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