( He's bothered, but he doesn't have the words for this. It's just ... something that sits bad at the back of his throat. )
... It would have been forever, if I hadn't woken back up.
( He exhales slow. He can't wrench it out of Barrett right now, and, despite everything, unearthing information on DV is a hobby, not a priority. So he doesn't pursue it as doggedly as he could - not yet.
[It hits that pit even harder, something painful and forthright. There was a lot he had churned within his own mind - things he wished he'd said or done or warned about. Things that could have helped. Things he didn't want to regret.
He'd wanted to be more honest. This was one of the things he knew couldn't break that... no matter how much he wanted.
It drags the regret into his words off the weighted waves of fatigue.]
I know. I know, I'm sorry. There's so much that I... I-I thought you were dead until an hour ago, Morgan, this isn't what I--
...I really thought I wouldn't get to tell you anything else.
[He'd said his goodbyes. Now, though relieved, he's left scrambling with feelings he couldn't quite place.]
I do trust you. I haven't told anyone else about this.
But... It's like before. Sometimes what I want... it isn't what's good for both of us right now. I trust you. I trust you.
( He says it like a promise, even if he doesn't say as much.
He shifts, so he's at least turned toward the phone - his voice is a little closer, now, if somewhat muffled by the pillow against his cheek. )
... You can't decide what's good for me or not. ( For example... ) I'd be happy, if you came now. But... I don't have the desire to tell you to do what you can't do.
[There's the quiet sound of cars, of crickets. He's still outside. From how his voice echoes, his face is rather close to the rest of him - free hand against his forehead, elbow against his knees, staring down at the space in the ground between his feet between concrete and cement as though something, anything, will come to him in the dark swirls of night, the scent of old cigarettes and the dim reflections of the streetlights.]
...I know. I mean... you're not a kid or something. I don't want to treat you like that.
[Maybe he is just turning into his dad.]
I'll tell you when I can. That just... can't be today.
[It's like the bracing pain before ripping off a bandaid. A digging into the empty, raw hole that he'd buried. An acknowledgement of the blossom at the bottom, lacking sunlight.]
...No. [It's a rough and quiet admission.] They didn't.
If anything... I'd hoped that if something had... [A swallow, a tightening of his tone.]--- had happened... that maybe wherever you were, you could feel whole again.
( Mithrun didn't explain how these two thoughts connected in his mind - but they did, they did to him, and he can't help but feel - relief, he thinks, as Barrett works his way through his reply, despite the gravel in Barrett's throat. A week is a long time. It's long enough to get to know someone else.
He thinks he's... a little too tired to grapple with too much nuance here, but he thinks he gets the idea, maybe. The gist. It reminds him a little of Tylor, a little of Hani, in a way he can't place. )
... I'm here.
( He says, as he does sometimes, to convey a great many more words than he has access to. He didn't die, he hasn't gone, and he is what he is - fractured and slight, but here. So don't forget him.
And if Barrett's feelings are the same, then he'll trust him. He knows he's not treating him as a kid, he knows he's worried. He will push back, but he will not think less of him. Not right now. )
Tell me when you're ready. About DV. ( About whatever else. ) ... I'm glad you called.
[There's a breathy sound from the back of his throat - tense, wet, caught before it turns into a full laugh or a break of further emotion, but still betraying that his face holds what is trying to be a smile on the other end of the line.]
Hey, I should be saying that to you. You called me, Morgan.
[He lets his exhale come, still rougher. Trying, at least for a second, to be vulnerable, even if the words are a repeat from before.]
I'm... I'm really glad. I'm so glad you---
I'm so relieved you're alive.
[The tone is quieter, more muffled as he puts his forehead to his knees, letting his free hand press against his eyes.
You're alive. I missed you. You're alive. I don't want to let go of you. You're alive.]
( Ah. Was he the one who called? Well, it's just as well. He's glad they get to talk. Still talk, even if it doesn't feel so long, even if he's sore he missed the game and their movie.
And the soreness feels so much less against the sound of Barrett's relief, his smile. JHe wants... )
... Sorry for scaring you. ( Did he say that already? He doesn't remember. He'll say it again. Sorry I was gone. Thank you for missing me. Thank you for holding onto me. ) It wasn't your fault.
( Barrett hasn't said anything, but... he felt that guilt once upon a time, and he knows now Barrett's intent to protect him and others, and he wonders. )
It comes up, and then dies down. A kneejerk reaction. Morgan has explained enough for him to know. And yet, the scratching voice in the back of his mind still insists. He could have done better. He should have.
He cared about this person enough to save them when they needed it, didn't he?
Didn't he...
...]
I know. It wasn't yours, either. I'm not angry.
[Extremely unfortunate, but a better outcome than he expected. Not a great one, but...
He wishes he could carry the same faith Hani and Tylor had been insisting on since day one. Regret sits, that pit deep in his stomach, at how he's feeling, at what he's been saying. Being mournful when there was apparently never anything to mourn.
But... to pretend he didn't miss Morgan, that he had such a difficulty with trying to process Morgan possibly being gone... while he could let the gentle evolution of his feelings quietly hide under the mud, to be quiet and ignore the loss? There's no way on earth he could even think about it.
...]
...Hey Morgan. Um.
Do you want me to stay with you? Until you fall asleep?
( He didn't think Barrett was angry, doesn't know why he feels like he has to specify he isn't, unless it's something people have gotten mad at him for. Blaming him for things. That sounds familiar. It's something to wonder when he's a little more clear-headed.
Until then... He hesitates, but is strange state of mind - half lucid, half not fully oriented - makes it easier for words to slip from him, silly as he'd normally find them. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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... What injuries were on my body, again...?
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A lot. Lots of bruises - there were these circle shaped ones we couldn't figure out. Your neck was sliced up, and you had some bad burns.
Your mouth and throat were scratched up and red, too, but I guess that was the fish.
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( He presumes. He's remembering what he fought - better than he remembers anything personal or orienting, like what day it is. )
I thought the Area prevented me healing, but... maybe it was the fugu...?
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[...]
I don't think it was the area.
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( He can be biased when he's annoyed, absolutely. )
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[He's tired. It slips.]
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You've spoken to... him?
( "He"...? Did he catch that right? )
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...
I...
...Please don't ask, Morgan. I can't tell you right now.
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... Did he contact you after I "died"...?
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[It's firmer than he wants, tinged with panic. A bad liar, pinched by his own fault. But he lets out a breath, shaking.]
You and I and DV will all be in a lot of danger if I say anything. So... I didn't say anything.
...
I'll tell you when it's safe. That isn't now.
Please.
[A plead.]
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He's quiet for a time. )
... What counts as "safe"?
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I don't know right now.
[Something like a smile creeps into his tone. Faint, barely there.]
There's a lot I wish I could tell you. But... there's people I need to keep safe first.
Like you.
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... You... were the one who said you couldn't do that all by yourself... right?
Let me help you.
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Okay, he wants to say.
I'll trust you, he wants to say.
...]
I...
I'm sorry.
Please. Trust me when I say I can't. I can't, Morgan. Especially not right now.
But it won't be forever. I promise it won't.
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... It would have been forever, if I hadn't woken back up.
( He exhales slow. He can't wrench it out of Barrett right now, and, despite everything, unearthing information on DV is a hobby, not a priority. So he doesn't pursue it as doggedly as he could - not yet.
But he does want to say that much. )
I'll trust you. Just remember to trust me, too.
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He'd wanted to be more honest. This was one of the things he knew couldn't break that... no matter how much he wanted.
It drags the regret into his words off the weighted waves of fatigue.]
I know. I know, I'm sorry. There's so much that I... I-I thought you were dead until an hour ago, Morgan, this isn't what I--
...I really thought I wouldn't get to tell you anything else.
[He'd said his goodbyes. Now, though relieved, he's left scrambling with feelings he couldn't quite place.]
I do trust you. I haven't told anyone else about this.
But... It's like before. Sometimes what I want... it isn't what's good for both of us right now. I trust you. I trust you.
But I still shouldn't have said anything.
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( He says it like a promise, even if he doesn't say as much.
He shifts, so he's at least turned toward the phone - his voice is a little closer, now, if somewhat muffled by the pillow against his cheek. )
... You can't decide what's good for me or not. ( For example... ) I'd be happy, if you came now. But... I don't have the desire to tell you to do what you can't do.
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[There's the quiet sound of cars, of crickets. He's still outside. From how his voice echoes, his face is rather close to the rest of him - free hand against his forehead, elbow against his knees, staring down at the space in the ground between his feet between concrete and cement as though something, anything, will come to him in the dark swirls of night, the scent of old cigarettes and the dim reflections of the streetlights.]
...I know. I mean... you're not a kid or something. I don't want to treat you like that.
[Maybe he is just turning into his dad.]
I'll tell you when I can. That just... can't be today.
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( He holds those words there for a moment, heavy on his tongue, thick in his throat in a way that's almost too subtle to hear - almost. )
... did those feelings you told me about, at the hot springs... Did they change?
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...No. [It's a rough and quiet admission.] They didn't.
If anything... I'd hoped that if something had... [A swallow, a tightening of his tone.]--- had happened... that maybe wherever you were, you could feel whole again.
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He thinks he's... a little too tired to grapple with too much nuance here, but he thinks he gets the idea, maybe. The gist. It reminds him a little of Tylor, a little of Hani, in a way he can't place. )
... I'm here.
( He says, as he does sometimes, to convey a great many more words than he has access to. He didn't die, he hasn't gone, and he is what he is - fractured and slight, but here. So don't forget him.
And if Barrett's feelings are the same, then he'll trust him. He knows he's not treating him as a kid, he knows he's worried. He will push back, but he will not think less of him. Not right now. )
Tell me when you're ready. About DV. ( About whatever else. ) ... I'm glad you called.
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Hey, I should be saying that to you. You called me, Morgan.
[He lets his exhale come, still rougher. Trying, at least for a second, to be vulnerable, even if the words are a repeat from before.]
I'm... I'm really glad. I'm so glad you---
I'm so relieved you're alive.
[The tone is quieter, more muffled as he puts his forehead to his knees, letting his free hand press against his eyes.
You're alive. I missed you. You're alive. I don't want to let go of you. You're alive.]
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And the soreness feels so much less against the sound of Barrett's relief, his smile. JHe wants... )
... Sorry for scaring you. ( Did he say that already? He doesn't remember. He'll say it again. Sorry I was gone. Thank you for missing me. Thank you for holding onto me. ) It wasn't your fault.
( Barrett hasn't said anything, but... he felt that guilt once upon a time, and he knows now Barrett's intent to protect him and others, and he wonders. )
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It comes up, and then dies down. A kneejerk reaction. Morgan has explained enough for him to know. And yet, the scratching voice in the back of his mind still insists. He could have done better. He should have.
He cared about this person enough to save them when they needed it, didn't he?
Didn't he...
...]
I know. It wasn't yours, either. I'm not angry.
[Extremely unfortunate, but a better outcome than he expected. Not a great one, but...
He wishes he could carry the same faith Hani and Tylor had been insisting on since day one. Regret sits, that pit deep in his stomach, at how he's feeling, at what he's been saying. Being mournful when there was apparently never anything to mourn.
But... to pretend he didn't miss Morgan, that he had such a difficulty with trying to process Morgan possibly being gone... while he could let the gentle evolution of his feelings quietly hide under the mud, to be quiet and ignore the loss? There's no way on earth he could even think about it.
...]
...Hey Morgan. Um.
Do you want me to stay with you? Until you fall asleep?
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Until then... He hesitates, but is strange state of mind - half lucid, half not fully oriented - makes it easier for words to slip from him, silly as he'd normally find them. )
... Can you?
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