No matter how far we get [CLOSED]

[lifetothefullest]

Who: Dr. Lance Sweets, Dr. Temperance Brennan
What: Lance's bad end is pretty much canon, and he's not too great at pretending otherwise
Where: Lance's apartment (Spire Two, 501)
When: Some nebulous time during the Bad End event~
Warnings: Discussion of character death and violence; will update if anything else comes up

[His intuition had told him not to look.

A pretty silver mirror appears out of nowhere and is lying by your bed when you wake up? Usually bad news, and he's pretty sure there are some fairy tales--or ghost stories--that start this way. And yet he'd picked it up anyway, glancing into the surface curiously, not entirely sure what he was expecting to see.

He'd dropped the mirror at first, although fortunately--or unfortunately--it hadn't shattered or even cracked, just tumbling face-down to the floor next to his bed. Lance had stared at the back of it for several seconds, trying to decide if he had been seeing things or not, before gathering his courage and picking it up to look into again.

It had been the same scene: a dark, mostly deserted parking garage, save for his own familiar car and, more strangely, himself. It probably should be the least strange thing, really, to see himself in a mirror, but then again one normally expects to see themselves alive; even in the dim light in the parking garage it's easy enough to tell what the blank look in his own eyes means, and the amount of blood and lack of movement are only more confirmation. After several seconds of trying to decide what to do, Lance had finally torn his gaze from mirror's surface and put the item away in the drawer that held his gun.

After that, and after realizing it wasn't just the one mirror that showed the same image, he'd tried for awhile just staying out of the house, partially to avoid seeing his own reflected vision and partially to avoid Rosen seeing it; that hadn't been a great plan, unfortunately, as unless he wanted to spend the rest of who knows how long in the Orchard it was far easier said than done to avoid all reflections. So eventually he'd returned, but remained in his room as much as possible and tried to resist the morbid curiosity that kept prompting him to look into his mirror despite already knowing what it shows.

But now he's decided to try a different tactic: distraction. So Lance is back at the apartment, after making sure it's empty for the moment, and is busy pulling things out of his cabinets and refrigerator. It's time he learned a bit more about cooking, and despite the memories being hazy he does think he can rely at least a little on the skill he'd had in the alternate history event; sure, he hadn't been a master chef or anything, but he'd had a little more opportunity to learn and at least a little more talent in the area. Might as well give it a try.

He'd brought his mirror into the kitchen purely for the reason of not leaving it unattended; he'd been paranoid about it being found while he'd been out in the city, and had eventually taken to keeping it with him just in case. So it's sitting face-down off to the side on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, far enough that he knows where it is but too far to be within easy reach so he wouldn't be tempted to look himself, and he's actually mostly forgotten about it in his concentration on what he's doing.]

Comments

[notimpervious]

[This is her first truly terrible event since arriving here, but Brennan cannot yet be sure that is the case. One data point is not enough to base a theory on, so when she wakes up (and scratches Sandy between the ears as the fennec purrs happily at Brennan's side) and sees an elegant silver hand mirror at her bedside, she does not even know to try and fight the compulsion to look at it.

At first all she can do is sit in stunned silence. Her? A serial killer? No. The list of victims is everyone she loves. This is some cruel joke, some... "magic" trick dreamed up by someone from a world with technology millennia ahead of what she knows. Their abductors, most likely, because how could anyone but Sweets (who would never do this to her) or Zack (who isn't even here anymore) know these names? She is ready to dismiss it until she reads a name that stirs visceral rage in her. "I tried to stop her," said Pelant, "but I helped catch her. That's gotta be enough."

She leaves Sandy with food and water and heads out for a run, keeping the mirror nearby not because she fears anyone will find it but because she just-- feels drawn to it, even though what it shows is repulsive. She runs for as long as she can -- half an hour at least -- then comes back and showers and sits on the couch and looks at the mirror again. No change, though she is not sure if that is better than the reflections she caught in the city. The orange jumpsuit, the cuts and bruises on her gaunt face. A prisoner who no one liked, locked up for crimes she did not commit.

Sandy lies across the back of the couch and flicks her tail against Brennan's neck, and as she jumps from the gentle contact, Brennan decides she needs to talk to someone. Here, the only person she trusts is Sweets, so she heads for his apartment before she has a chance to regret the thought.

She knocks on the door, but when it takes him more than a few seconds to answer, she knocks again, louder. The mirror sits in her coat pocket, a weight she can't ignore no matter how badly she wants to. She should have brought Sandy, she thinks as she waits. Then she could at least have something good and blameless to think about.]

[lifetothefullest]

[The first set of knocks actually startles Lance, both because he's just generally on edge a lot and because he's so focused on what he's doing, and it takes him a moment to really place that someone is knocking; by that time there's more knocking, and Lance cautiously edges toward the door to see who it is. Not many people know where he lives, after all.

But it's Brennan, which makes sense, and he immediately relaxes a little as he opens the door for her even if he's a little surprised to see her.]

Dr. Brennan, hey, come in. Are you okay?

[He can tell by the look her face that she isn't, but there are a number of reasons that could be and so he doesn't want to assume which it is.]

[notimpervious]

What took you so long?

[Hi Sweets how are you is it obvious enough yet that she is on edge?

She doesn't wait for an answer before she is distracted by two things: 1) the smell of whatever he is preparing and 2) the sight of his mirror.]

You have one too? [she asks, pulling hers out of her pocket. She keeps the reflective side down, doesn't even hold it out to him. Some part of her wants to just throw it to the floor with all her might and shatter it to pieces, but then again, some part of her wants to look at it again.] It was in my room when I woke up this morning.

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance is a little surprised by the first question--did he take that long? He supposes he might have--but then she's immediately asking about the mirrors, and he's torn between curiosity at what hers contains and an odd and confusing mix of emotions at the idea of her seeing his.]

Yeah, it was... Just there.

[He leads the way back into the apartment, picking up his mirror on the way and setting it on the counter, still more than an arm's length from himself, before checking on what he's cooking. It's really simple, enough so that even he can't mess it up--some diced vegetables and a few spices in a frying pan, that he plans to add eggs to--and so it only takes his attention briefly before he looks back at Brennan again.]

Does yours show you something bad?

[He hesitates to ask, but he needs to know both to properly understand her reaction and maybe to reassure himself a little. Is it just him that sees something awful, or is it everyone?]

[notimpervious]

[It takes every shred of strength Brennan has not to pick up his mirror when he sets it down. She very nearly does, curious almost to a fault, but instead she puts her on mirror on the counter, still within reach though.]

It's horrible. [It's a nightmare.] Yours too?

[lifetothefullest]

[Okay. Not just him, although contrary to what he'd thought it actually makes him more concerned, not less; if his is a vision of his future, then what is Brennan's? What if something is going to happen to her too?

His voice is a little fainter than usual when he responds, thinking about too many things at once.]

Yes. But it's an event, right? It has to be. So surely it isn't...

[Only he's pretty sure his is indeed real, so why not hers?

And so he has to ask--]

What does... What does yours show you?

[notimpervious]

[So it is the work of their abductors. Having been here longer, Sweets would know that; and having been through last month's mass illusion, Brennan can allow herself to relax a little. This is also an illusion.

Yet if that's true, why is Sweets so nervous? And how could her mirror show her something so awful?

She takes a moment before answering, hating the words before she even says them. This is in fact the first time she says them aloud.]

Pelant-- winning. [God, she hates him.] It's--

[It's too much to say out loud, so she just pushes the mirror over to Sweets for him to see the news article.]

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance watches as she tries to get the words out, more and more concerned, and doesn't even have time to really be surprised by the mention of Pelant before she shoves the mirror toward him. He hesitates, purposefully resisting in incredible curiosity to look for long enough for her to change her mind, but then finally picks it up and looks into it.

No wonder she's so upset. It's immediately obvious how distressing it would be for her, and with good reason, but one little detail about it is enough for him to be able to give her good news; he holds the mirror out for her to take back, and meets her gaze intently.]

This isn't possible, Dr. Brennan. Pelant is dead. Booth shot him.

[And as much as Lance usually hates the loss of any human life, he can't bring himself to feel anything at all for Pelant. He's glad Booth finally ended him, even if he wishes it hadn't had to come to that point.

But even though Lance could've seen Pelant orchestrating something from beyond the grave to affect them all, there's no way he could've given a statement like is in the newspaper that flashes through Brennan's mirror without being alive. And he isn't.]

[notimpervious]

[It came so close to that before she was abducted. All of them had been like game pieces to that monster. He'd almost won, but then they'd pulled together to beat him, so yes, to see a future where he won is the worst possible outcome.

She almost protests (of course it's possible, doesn't Sweets remember the things Pelant did?) until--

Her shock and disbelief register clearly on her face, wiping away the grief and fear from only moments ago. Pelant is dead. Booth shot him. That can't be true.]

No, he's-- he changed his identity and went to Egypt.

[He gave her a flower, promising to give her pain and suffering. To get revenge for having outsmarted him. He's still out there, and she's here unable to do anything to try and find him, and now Sweets is saying that he's dead. The only way to know that would be to see the future, and no one can do that, except perhaps their abductors, who took him from two years ahead of--

Oh.]

You're sure? You're saying that because you know it happens? It happens, but I just... haven't gotten there yet? [This is so frustrating to think about.]

If that's true, then yours could also be false.

[They can both be free of what the mirrors show them.]

[lifetothefullest]

[He should've told her this much earlier, he's realizing; he hadn't even really thought about it when he'd found out about their difference in time, too overwhelmed by her and Zack being here, and then after that there had just been so much going on here that it hadn't crossed his mind again.]

I'm sure. It was a little less than a year ago for me; you and Booth were there, and the rest of us watched on a video system Pelant had set up.

[She still has to get to that point, but she will, and things will be okay. Pelant doesn't win, in any sense of the word.

But when Brennan suggests that maybe Lance's own mirror is just as false, his expression falters; he wants to agree immediately, and say that could be, and believe it. But everything in him tells him it's correct.

Still, he tries anyway, even if all he can really manage is to repeat what he's already said.]

It could be; it's just an event, right? Maybe it doesn't mean--

[His voice breaks and cuts out, an even more obvious sign that he doesn't believe his own words; he was already a terrible liar, at least to friends, and that doesn't help.]

[notimpervious]

[Even Brennan can tell that's a lie. She would be proud of that fact if not for the distressing subject matter. Assured now that her mirror is showing her a lie, she can shift her attention to what Sweets's mirror shows.

The compulsion to look becomes too much then, not because of the "gods" but because now she is worried for what could await her friend. Before he can regain his voice, she picks up his mirror off the counter and looks.

It feels like having the air knocked out of her. The lighting may be dim, but she knows what a corpse looks like and she knows who this is. She can't do much to figure out cause and time of death with just a photo and without the others, but she doesn't need to. This is horrifying enough all on its own.]

This doesn't happen. It doesn't have to happen. Booth wouldn't let it. I wouldn't.

[lifetothefullest]

[He sees her reach for it, and he could've made an attempt to stop her, but he doesn't; instead he just leans sideways against the counter, all the energy seemingly draining out of his posture, especially when he sees that look on her face and she responds.]

It was... It was just supposed to be basically running an errand. I volunteered to do it while you and Booth were interviewing a witness.

[He hears himself speak almost like it's someone else; he isn't expecting to be talking about this, especially not to Brennan, and it feels wrong to do so. She has enough to worry about, but even Lance knows it's pointless to try to pretend like he believes what she's saying; it's better to just tell her, especially--selfishly--for him.]

Things just went really wrong, and I... When I woke up here, it wasn't quite as bad, but I remember...

[He remembers the feeling of his ribs cracking and moving out of place, rather than being broken but still in the neat alignment they'd been in when he'd woken up in the arena. He remembers coughing up the blood that had been all over his shirt and suit jacket when he'd arrived, but aside from pain having no trouble breathing while in Hadriel. He remembers the deep sense of dread and feeling of something being wrong deep in his chest, but that had also been absent as soon as he'd found himself here.

It's those reasons that he's sure the vision is probably correct; that he doesn't--and logically shouldn't--survive his injuries, and only did here because it would've been pointless to the gods for him to die within minutes of arriving. But every sense he has tells him that he doesn't have a future at home.

And he's started to think he could've handled that, and accepted it, but--]

Daisy's pregnant. We were going to have a boy.

[He doesn't know why he says it, and he can barely get the words out, but maybe it's because he knows that Brennan will truly understand in a way no one else here can. This is what hurts, about this entire situation; he's had a good life, even as short as it was, and he could've accepted and let go if it weren't for this.]

[notimpervious]

No. [It's not angry or a protest. It's a firm statement. No. No.] This is in the future, right? It hasn't happened for me yet, so I can stop it happening. I'm-- I'll stop this from happening.

[Just promising that is enough to bring her close to tears, but then Sweets adds what he does and all she wants to do is break the mirror. As if that could fix anything, or prevent it from happening.

She doesn't, but she does slam it back on the counter. It's hardly enough, but it's something, and it helps her out of the shock his last statement dealt her.]

I'm going to stop this. I'm going home somehow and stopping this. You'll be a great father, and you and Daisy are going to be happy together.

[They deserve at least that much.]

[lifetothefullest]

[Staying with Brennan for a little while has definitely made dealing with this event easier, even if they haven't talked much about any of it since initially finding out about each other's visions. Just not having to worry about catching glimpses of each other's reflections has helped alleviate some stress, because there are far too many reflective surfaces to really account for and not needing to be so paranoid about them is a relief.

So overall, things could've been a lot worse the last few days, although that doesn't mean things are great. They're especially not as great this morning--or noon, or whatever time it actually is--when he wakes up, because ow, it's going to be one of those days. Although he's pretty sure he's as healed as he's going to get, and can more or less do everything he did before activity-wise, even minor injuries can cause problems long after they've been resolved; he'd been used to this fact for as long as he can remember, although not quite to the extent that his recently-broken ribs have been causing him.

Overall, he knows he's really fortunate they healed at all--especially since he's pretty certain they'll cause his death at home--but that doesn't make the days when they're acting up somehow less unpleasant. Considering there are no storms to blame while in a cave he presumes he just slept wrong, but knowing the potential reason doesn't really help either; coffee, however, might, and so after a few minutes he drags himself up and into the kitchen.

Don't mind him being somewhat zombie-like as he tries to manage the coffee-maker one handed, the other pressed firmly against his side as if it'll help; it does a little, but not really worth the trade-off of how much more difficult it is to work kitchen appliances.]

[notimpervious]

[That morning, Brennan is at the kitchen table refining her sketch of the purple mark on the back of her hand, while Sandy watches the steam rising up from Brennan's tea, almost catlike in how she's lying on the table. At first, Brennan is too absorbed in her work to bother looking up at Sweets, but in her peripheral vision, she notices the slight change the pain has caused to his gait.

His hand on his side is all the confirmation she needs.]

You should sit. [Said as she stands.] I can make you coffee.

[lifetothefullest]

[He... Totally doesn't jump a little in surprise at Brennan already being in the kitchen and not noticing her in his determined focus on the coffee machine, not at all. But he's only momentarily startled, and decides not to argue at the offer as much as he initially wants to on sheer principle.

Instead he nods, trudging over to the kitchen table and taking a seat before reaching out to pet Sandy a little.]

Thank you. How long have you been awake?

[notimpervious]

[She's not going to mention that little jump. It has been a difficult week for them both. As Sandy butts her head against Sweets's hand (she is very affectionate) Brennan busies herself with the coffeemaker.]

About an hour. [She has a schedule, and she likes to stick to it.] I would've liked to have something to read, but the library here is lacking, and I did not feel up to working on my book.

[This event has been... draining.

Once the coffeemaker gets going, she turns to face Sweets. He may be seated, but she can still tell he's in pain and where the pain is coming from.]

I wish I had been here before your fractures began remodeling. Perhaps I could have... [She sighs, shrugs.] Done something to alleviate the pain, or to mitigate the long-term discomfort that comes with the injuries.

[lifetothefullest]

The lack of anything to read is one of the worst things about being here, I think.

[He's not even joking; it sucks. He's used to reading a lot, and stalking people's conversations on the network provides some entertainment in that area but not exactly the sort of thing he'd choose if given the option. And he definitely understands not feeling up to writing.

Lance busies himself continuing to pet Sandy while Brennan gets the coffee brewing, and the little fox is a nice distraction even if she's not enough of one to completely ignore the ache in his side. Brennan's next words catch his attention though, and he pauses in petting Sandy to look at Brennan, shaking his head a little.]

It's okay. I don't know that there's anything even you could've done.

[Not with how serious the breaks were, anyway; even if she could've done something, he doesn't want her feeling guilty or upset over not being here to do so.]

Besides, most of the time they're okay, just... You know how some days are worse than others.

[But even the worst days are nothing like how it had been while healing, so he's really not going to complain too much. His hand and leg hadn't been so bad, and although the injuries to his throat had been--and still are at times--a more serious problem, nothing compared to six broken ribs at once and he'd like to never repeat anything like that ever again.]

[notimpervious]

I suppose.

[There is some guilt there, yes, but it's more frustration than anything else. Brennan is used to solving mysteries and fixing problems. Being unable to do either of those has been challenging. At least she managed, with help, to recover those remaims for Hope. It was the first time since arriving here that she felt at all like she could truly contribute. She had not done it for payment or recognition. It had been the right thing to do, so she had gathered a team and done it.

And yet in his gratitude, Hope had given her the glowing purple orb that she still doesn't understand, and now she has a strange mark on the back of her hand. Lucky for her, she'd seen the same mark on Chris's hand when she'd gone to pick up Sandy, so she knows what it does, even if she doesn't know how it does it.

Healing, he'd said. Chris is a boy about Vincent's age -- possibly younger, if Vincent were still alive. He seems intelligent. He'd said this "blessing" allows the user to heal anything at all, on themself or another person. In the silence between her and Sweets now, Brennan glances at the mark, then looks at Sweets. Thus far, the "gods" have not lied about what they can do. Perhaps, then, she really does have some part in what Hope can do.]

I would like to conduct an experiment. I need your help, if you are willing. [She makes the briefest of pauses, barely enough time for him to process what she just said.] I would like to try Hope's gift to me on your injuries. The boy who gave me Sandy said it works, but I can test it on someone else first if you prefer. Even myself.

[Stop her before she suggests taking a knife to a finger or something.]

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance watches her reaction, trying to figure out something else to say to make things better, and notices her glance at her hand and then back at him. The next part of what she says is... Not necessarily hugely surprising, but he's also not entirely sure how to answer right away.

Although he's known about people here having magical healing abilities, he's been too afraid to try them for several reasons; as much as he's accepting the idea of magic he doesn't necessarily want it used on him, he doesn't trust anyone here yet who has that sort of magic, and he even if he did he doesn't want them figuring out just how serious his injuries were and guessing--like Rosen had--that they could've been fatal. So he's opted instead for the longer, more flawed but more natural route of healing the old fashioned way, even with all the time and problems it's brought.

But with Brennan, it's a different story. If the power really does work the way it's supposed to, then the other problems aren't an issue; he trusts Brennan completely, and she already knows about what he thinks is going to happen. However, there's a completely different issue of that she's never used this power before, and not only that but never used any magic before. What if something goes wrong and the power doesn't work, or worse yet doesn't work and also hurts either him or her? What if she just uses it wrong and goes all Gilderoy Lockhart on his ribs and he has to completely regrow them or something? Is that even a thing?

So he's momentarily torn, trying to weigh risk and reward on something he really knows very little about, but suddenly an idea comes to him that might be safe enough to try.]

I'm not exactly opposed to trying it, but... Maybe we could test it on the injury I got during new arrival day first? It's almost completely healed, but it's a lot more minor and more recent.

[So if something goes wrong, it will hopefully not be as much of a problem.]

writes u three novels and suddenly a haiku

[notimpervious]

[Honestly why would anyone trust anybody else when they can trust Brennan? (That is a rhetorical question.)

That is an acceptable compromise, so she nods and walks to him.] It was your shoulder that was injured, yes?

that's how it goes okay

[lifetothefullest]

[He nods, a little nervous but committed at this point, and reaches up to touch his left shoulder near the end of his collarbone.]

Right here, yeah.

[notimpervious]

[She feels ridiculous before even starting, but if there is even a slight a chance that she can take away Sweets's pain, it is worth it.]

Chris said that all that is required to use this gift is to-- will it. [She could not sound more disdainful on 'will it' if she tried.] Since the... particles of the orb entered my bloodstream through my hands, I propose that having my hands hover over the injury will help.

[This... is still ridiculous.] Perhaps the particles are technological in nature and respond to the electrical activity of the brain.

In any case, I will not touch you, but tell me if you feel... anything. Especially pain. I will stop immediately if you feel pain.

[All of that said, she lifts both hands and holds them above Sweets's wound, taking a moment to breathe and push aside the feeling that she is playing pretend. The explanation she posited is scientific enough for now (well, not really, but she'll take it) and so she should feel comfortable trying this.

More quietly, as if lowering her voice will help at all, she says,] I will begin now. [And then she concentrates.

She knows what healthy bone and tissue look like, so that is what she imagines. Sweets's shoulder fully restored. It helps to close her eyes and not be distracted by anything in the kitchen. She puts no stock in what she thinks she feels happening with her hands, because it does not matter. Only what Sweets feels matters, and in order not to doubt, she does not even ask if he thinks it's working.]

[lifetothefullest]

[He listens to all of this carefully, trying not to appear as nervous as he feels; he can tell she's trying to convince herself of the logic of the entire thing so as to feel more comfortable with it, and it won't help if he seems unsure about the whole thing. So he takes a deep breath and nods, reminding himself that he trusts Brennan to figure out what she's doing and to stop if anything goes wrong, and her closing her eyes lets him get away with doing the same.

At first, he can't tell if anything's happening, and then he feels it. It's... Weird, but not painful or anything, just an odd intuitive sense that something's changing.]

I think it might be working. It doesn't hurt, it's just... Strange, I guess?

[He doesn't know how to describe it, but he feels it's important to go ahead and reassure her now that it isn't painful.]

[notimpervious]

[To her great frustration, "strange" is the only word she can come up with for this as well.]

Yes. [Now that she has achieved a steady... flow -- or whatever -- of particles (??? more data is needed) she feels comfortable frowning with her eyes still closed. She looks... possibly comical, but she wouldn't know it.] I somehow... feel that it may be working. Which is ridiculous, [she adds with a quick shake of her head.] But it is not yet done.

[This is way too close to Booth's "gut instincts" for comfort, but she relaxes her face again and waits for the inexplicable moment of knowing the wound is healed.

When that moment arrives, she pulls back her hands and opens her eyes.] Please check your shoulder to determine if this was successful.