hadriel_logs | Do you see it clearer Or are you deceived

Entry tags:

Do you see it clearer Or are you deceived

Who: Tucker and Ephemera.

What: Ephemera wants his helmet back.

Where: Blue Team house.

When: Feb 28th.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, bad history. Possible mentions of war crimes.

Once, not so long ago, Ephemera would have solved this with his fists. Grabbed the fucker by the hair or the back of the neck if he didn't have hair, and then just throw him against the wall. Bash his skull into something solid until the problem stopped breathing. He'd done it a few times on the Tartarus, back when people saw his face and thought it meant opportunity. The guards stopped giving him cellmates, after a while. But that had been part of the plan, too. He'd gotten a reputation early and maintained it as needed. And he'd waited.

For however long it took, he'd sworn to wait. And track down every last one of those fuckers who murdered his family. He'd promised the captain, and even if he hadn't, Ephemera knows he owes CT. It's the sort of debt that can't be measured and can't be forgotten even after dying. For CT, for Chica and the twins, Barrows and Crow, even that bastard Rodriguez. All of them. His brothers and sisters. Freelancer might have buried all their ugly secrets, but he remembered. Sharkface remembered.

And for a long time, that had kept him going. The knowledge that he'd avenge them. No matter how long it took. He'd wait.

Because when he was finally standing next to them, in hell or the afterlife or whatever came next, he would have kept his word.

It's different now. He's trying to be a whole person.

It doesn't always work.

But he promised to try. To be better. Promised Drake and the doc and Lup. All of them are here and none of them are going to die, he'll make sure of it. They matter too much.

That means he has to settle it.

It's not hard to figure out which Sim trooper has his helmet, or where he's staying. It's a small place. He and Washington have an understanding, most days.

So Ephemera shows up a day later in civilian clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, both of them paint stained, and leaves the acrylic from his latest project drying on his hands. It's something to remember, something to focus on. If he's in armor it'll be too easy to fight. The paint means he has to go back home, to Drake and the goddamn mural, he has to finish what he started and do it right.

He knocks on the door. Stands there scowling at the ground. This is going to end so well.

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Honestly? Tucker wasn't sure why he kept the stupid thing, painted and heavy and modded up for a complete dick; the whole thing just brought back bad memories. Sure, Church was here now, but that didn't mean he still hadn't die--

Nope. Not going there.

But Tucker sat it against the wall and wondered...wondered a lot. Wondered how many of them were kids, how many had suffered, wondered what Felix and Locus hadn't told those assholes. Could he still be at fault for it? And if Sharkface was here, and Church was here, did that mean anyone could come back?

Did that mean Felix could come ba--

Someone was knocking. Worse? No one was answering, which was when he realized that everyone else was out. Shit. Sure, it'd get him out of his reverie, but he had been comfortable, relaxed. Getting up, he went to the door, opened it--

--and immediately tried to slam it shut again.

"Keep your vacuums and religion and Girl Scout fucking cookies, we don't want whatever you're selling!"

Ephemera jams his boot into the door before it can slam, the only thing he's wearing that might stop a blow. "No. I want my fucking helmet back."

"Great, I want to get laid, but all I've seen are creepy ass bandage nurses. Guess we both can't get what we want."

But the door was stopped, leaving Tucker to stare back at him. He wasn't wearing his own aqua armor; that was back in his room, too, heavy and forgotten.Instead, it was casual wear: teal t-shirt and black jean, nothing fancy, not yet. At least they were even; Tucker was glad for that.

But damn, he was missing his sword right now.

He let go of the door and stepped back. Tucker's face was expressive, annoyed, angry in ways that were truly raw without the helmet.

"Maybe if you wanted to keep it, you shouldn't have thrown it at my head, asshole."

Ha. So there.

"I could punch you in the head and take it," Ephemera says blandly. He makes no move to do so. "I want it back. Then I'm gone."

"Yeah, and I could kick your in your junk and slam the door. Let's all talk about the things we wish we could do right now."

Great, this was getting them nowhere. And if that's all it would be, well...

Tucker rolled his eyes and opened the door the rest of the way so he could in. He was going to regret this, he knew it, but whatever; he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.

"Stay." As if he were talking to Freckles. He turned and headed towards his room.

"Why the fuck did you paint it like a shark, anyway?" he yelled across the hallways.

Well, at least nobody's gotten stabbed. Yet. Ephemera wishes he didn't consider that a success and steps inside, cautiously. Look, he's not causing a scene. Go him. "Same reason I paint anything. Because I fucking wanted to."

He likes the idea of sharks, though he's never actually seen one in person. How they're ancient and unyielding, how they grow new sets of teeth constantly and never lose their edge.

Which he's never going to tell any of these people, because it doesn't matter. Ephemera runs a hand through his hair, scowling down at the floor. At least they're not fighting. Not in a way that matters.

Yet. Yet was the important word, but while everything seemed balanced the barest of strings, they hadn't snapped. That was important.

Tucker ducked into his room and snatched the helmet off the floor, fingers curling around the edge. Goddamn, he wanted to drop kick the stupid thing through the wall. Eyes flickered to his sword, contemplated grabbing it for a split second, before he brushed that aside. He walked back with it dangling, upside down, only tossing it when he was close enough that the enemy could grab it without breaking anything in here. Not...that there was much to break.

"What, are you artist or something?"

Why did he care? Why was he even asking these questions?! Ugh/

And there's his helmet. Ephemera catches it with a frown, watching Tucker suspiciously. He'll have to check the helmet later, make sure it wasn't sabotaged or something. "Uh huh. Why do you care?"

Don't worry; he didn't jerk off into it or anything. It was, unfortunately, completely safe. Way better than he deserved.

"I don't." He didn't. He really, really didn't. Dammit, he needed to stop humanizing this asshole. "You just said you painted things, so I guessed."

And then, before his stupid mouth could stop it--

"My kid sends me his artwork sometimes."

Shit, shit, shit.

Ephemera goes very still. "You have a kid."

He didn't want to know that. No part of him wanted to know that.

"Yeah." And for a moment, it was like the floodgates were open as he smiled, something soft and anxious at the same time, as if he wanted to go out and fucking find him right now. He hated it because that's exactly what he couldn't do, what he hadn't been able to do since before Chorus.

"He's fucking awesome, has a full basketball scholarship. He's the tallest kid in his class."

Because he was an alien. The Tuckers weren't usually known for their height.

"Between semesters, he does ambassador work. He's kinda important, just like me." He shrugged a little. "Want to see a picture?"

Wasn't like this guy could actually hurt his kid at the moment, so why not?

Something changes on Tucker's face then, going soft and thoughtful. And it's real in a way Ephemera can't scoff at. "Yeah. Okay."

He promised Drake he'd do better. And he does know what it's like, to have family and miss them desperately.

Tucker pulled out his wallet, the one that had come over with him, and finally flipped open to the picture of Junior inside of it. It was easy to see who the tallest one was, even if there was absolutely no familial resemblance physically.

"That's him, in the middle. Name's Junior."

Not Lavernius Tucker Junior, no. It's simply Junior Tucker, the alien Chosen One.

Be careful how you broach this.

[Huh. That's unexpected.

Ephemera squints a little. Wonders if the kid's adopted or not. He never got around to hating the Covenant like a lot of soldiers did. War came and then it ended. War's been over a while. People always seemed worse than the aliens, anyway.]

He's tall. How old?

[He never wanted kids of his own. Wouldn't have been good at it. None of his squad had any, either. Barrows had desperately wanted to keep some of the refugee brats, but Ephemera is resolutely not thinking about that or how it ended.]

[Nothing? Not a single thing about what he was?

Tucker's smile grew a little, because he was used to the reactions and hated every single one of them; his son was just his son, nothing less than that. To Tucker, he was only Junior, a kid who sometimes had an initial urge to bite the basketball instead of throw it. That negative crap was the only thing that truly pissed him off about Church and the shit he talked.]

He's in the fifth grade now.

[There was that pride obvious in his voice. He sounded like a father, which was weird because it was Tucker.] I hear he has his eye on a couple ladies, but he accidentally ate one of their cats? So that might have hurt his chances a little. That's not the sort of pussy that birds and bees talk explained.

[He took the wallet back, tossing it on the table.] Yeah, I want to get back for him.

[Ephemera smiles a little.]

Sounds like a handful.

[Like any kid would be at that age. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. They're having a conversation right now and it's not awful. They're not yelling. Ephemera isn't sure what to make of that.]

I hope you do. Get back, I mean. It happens sometimes.

[It's a little easier now, now that he had his team back, now that Church was here, even if it was--was temporary at best. What happened when dead people went back? Were they just...dead again? That's it, sure had fun, get back in the ground? Did they even get a choice in the matter or did the door just take them the same way they brought them?

How many times would he be forced to lose his best friend? ]

Yeah.

["You, too" didn't exactly sound appropriate in this situation, considering.]

Did you think about the shit I said before? About the kids?

Uh huh.

[Ephemera watches Tucker for a moment.]

Nothing I say is gonna change anything.

No.

[It wasn't. Once they were dead, they were-- okay, not all of them, as current company proved, but still...]

So that's it? Just shrug it off like it didn't matter? Dude, that's fucking shitty as hell, even for your side.

[Ephemera exhales. Raps his knuckles against the helmet.]

It matters. But you don't care why I did that and neither do those kids.

[They're dead. That's how it ended.]

And I was never on their side. They just had something I needed.

You fought with them, attacked us, and killed out people while following their orders. Tell me how you weren't with them again?

[Sorry, but the truth was the truth was the motherfucking truth. As far as Tucker was concerned, there was little separating you from Locus and Felix themselves once the gun was clenched in one's grif. His jaw tightened, trying to push the anger, the insult down. Fucking kids deserved better than what they got.]

So, what was that important, huh?

I killed a lot of people for the UNSC. For the Insurrection, too.

[Ephemera tips his head to the side. Wonders vaguely if Washington ever briefed the team on who he was. Probably not. No need to muddy the waters.]

And I killed those kids because Locus gave me armor.

[He's brutal in his truth. There's no dancing around that. Not this time.

Ephemera's expression is very blank.]

I knew I wouldn't get all of Freelancer. They'd see me coming. I wouldn't even get close without armor. But those two...

[There had been a chance to get at Carolina and Washington. Ephemera shivers. Lifts his chin. It's better to be cruel, he thinks. No need to muddy the waters. Let everything be start and simple.]

I didn't care about your people. You were just in the way.

Edited 2018-03-06 03:57 (UTC)

[That was it? That was the only reason? Because of fucking armor?! They lost their lives, their future so this asshole could get armor?!

Tucker stared, every inch of stunned balking and rage written into his face. Locus. Locus was just as bad as the rest of them, no matter what Carolina told him, no matter if he didn’t help Felix at the end. But this? This? This was just shit, and he let it show in the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes narrowed, the way his hands shook at his side.

Maybe it was better that his sword was in the other room.]

You’re a fucking idiot. [God, where was Caboose to calm him down? Where was Epsilon to get pissed alongside him?] Wash and Carolina are our people! They’re our fucking team!

[They’re family, and fuck if they wouldn’t die to protect them.

He shoved the thoughts of Epsilon away.]

And that’s why you’d never be able to take them down.

[There's the anger. The fucking rage. Ephemera feels some of the tension drop out of his shoulders. Good. It's simple again.]

They killed my family. You look at me and you tell me there's not a goddamn thing you wouldn't do to avenge that.

[Fuck. Fuck, he would, he knew he would. If Wash died. If Carolina died. If Caboose or even Grif and Sarge and Simmons or Donut or Lopez or-

If Junior died, he'd totally go Death Wish all over half the universe.]

Yeah, but by that fucking logic, I should kill you right now. [Did he directly kill Church? No. But he worked with the people that made him sacrifice himself, so...close enough. He could feel the slam of his heart as the anger settled in the pit of his stomach.]

What happened? What'd they do?

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