Agent York

[Without a small Pokemon in her arms, Carolina can't be prevented from going over and grasping North's shoulders, passing York.]

North-- I need you to wake up.

[Carolina hasn't gotten the memo that you probably shouldn't touch people who are having nightmares. Stripes, however, takes a place behind York and Carolina both, unsure and concerned.]

From:

Carolina--

[York isn't totally up to date on nightmare protocol, but given what his own reactions coming out of sleep can be like sometimes--

--Well, there she goes anyway. Without a second's hesitation, he reaches back in his own mind to nudge Delta Two, warn her to get ready should something go wrong here. He trusts that she can handle it.

D-2 nods and readies herself to reach out to North if she has to.]

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[North jerks violently like he's been shot the second Carolina touches him, one of the hands in his hair protectively covering the back of his neck. His fingers curl like rigor mortis and the tension in his body doesn't fade.

But finally, one pale blue eye cracks open. And when he's met with darkness and silver light instead of daylight and a wall of white armor, when he realizes the hands on his shoulders are smaller and more delicate than the hungry, grasping hands that had picked him up like he weighed nothing, taken what they wanted, and left him for dead; that's when he slowly starts to come around. He looks at Carolina's hands and follows the line of her arm up to her face, his expression still disoriented and a little scared.]

...Carolina? York? Wh-

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[Score one for impulse moves.]

North. You're alright.

[Her voice is less gentle and more authoritative, like she's updating him on his status on a mission.]

You were-- dreaming.

[She looks at York, troubled, as if he'll know what to say.]

From:

[God, Carolina. Well, at least that military beside manner is expected. York breathes out and sits on the edge of North's bed, lets Rascal down gently on the mattress.]

There, little guy. He's okay, see? We're all okay.

[He's lying to a baby. How the mighty have fallen.

York watches Rascal for a moment, silent, then looks up at North. He sits so he can face him better, one leg off the bed, his other knee laid flat and bumping North's shin.]

We're here, man. Me and Carolina. Just take your time, we're not going anywhere.

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[Slowly, his fingers curl against the scar on the back of his neck and he brings his empty hand around again.

He's forced to come around faster when York sets Rascal on the bed next to him and his little baby pokemon toddles toward him with a whimper and big teary eyes, throwing his little self against North's chest with hiccuping little sobs. Immediately North's cradling the little shell with one hand, sitting up a little.]

...It was just a...dream.

[That wasn't "just a" anything.]

I'm sorry, I woke you up.

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[Carolina hesitates, pulling back and looking to York again. She rubs at her wrists, missing the security of being able to shoot at all her problems.]

North...

[It was more than just a dream. She's never heard him scream like that, even-- even--

Fuck. What is she supposed to do? What can any of them do? She joins them on the bed, sitting opposite York so that she can face North, too.]

You don't have to apologise.

From:

[York meets Carolina's gaze, but he only holds it for a moment before he looks down, masking his expression in the darkness. His own hands he presses firmly against the bed to keep them from reaching up, from covering the back of his own neck. Delta isn't here to steady him, to give him advice he can pretend to ignore, and York needs him now more than ever.

Delta Two comes over and he picks her up, sets her down next to him, rubs the back of her head when she leans into his shirt.]

You been getting dreams like that a lot?

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[North swallows, feels like he's in an intervention. He feels exposed, like he's under a spotlight instead of just in a dark room.

North, I'm scared. Your shield-

It'll hold, Theta. Just a little longer. Just keep looking for an ope-

NORTH! Get up, please get up!

He bows his head to hide the tears welling up in his eyes, holds Rascal that much tighter.

It was their first night in real beds, the first night he'd really let himself sleep since they got here. But the little voice that he can't hear anymore but remembers all too well has been haunting him nonetheless.]

... I... can't say that I have.

Edited Date: 2015-09-28 04:13 am (UTC)

From:

[Carolina moves her hand up to the back of her neck, into her hair, and looks toward the ceiling. There isn't much to see in the dark, but it keeps her from having to look at North, from being that much more frustrated about how powerless she feels. She lets York continue, not yet ready to interrupt.]

From:

[York still feels shaken on the inside, like North's scream really did freeze his blood and it's only slowly turning back into something that works, but he's a locksmith. His hand is steady when he places it on North's leg, solid and gentle.

They're his team, they're not going to let him drop because he's scared and they don't know what to do.

They're here, dude.]

Lights? Coffee?

[York wouldn't want to go back to sleep after that.]

From:

...Yeah. Coffee sounds good.

[His voice is a little steadier now, still quiet and sad.]

Don't think I'll be going back to sleep tonight.

You both can go back to bed. I'll be fine.

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I think we'd rather not.

[She regards North with a concerned look, leaning over so her elbows are on her knees.]

I don't know about York, but I'm not too interested in sleeping right now, either.

[It's gentle, but assertive; they're not leaving him. Not just yet.]

I could go for some coffee, too.

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Sleep? Who needs sleep?

[He pats North's leg, grips it for a moment to reassure him, then disentangles Delta Two from his shirt and stands.]

I'll start that coffee. Be right back.

[Delta Two stays behind as he goes to get the percolator. One of the percolators. Does York have an electric one and one for camping? Maybe. Shut up, you don't know him.

He's not gone long, just enough time to get the percolator and the coffee and the two guest mugs the inn set out in his room. He sets up and plugs the percolator into the wall of North's room before he finds some space to flop down on North's bed and grunt into the mattress. The room is going to smell like coffee, and that's good. The adrenaline spike is still draining out of him.]

Ten, fifteen minutes till it's ready. [So North is stuck with them at least that long. York changes the subject.] How's Rascal?

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[North isn't used to being looked after. He's always been the one doing the looking after. He doesn't want to worry Carolina and York; they have their own problems to be concerned about.

He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even really know what happened, how they got in his room - or how Rascal got out for that matter, if he did. So he's more comfortable when the conversation turns off of him and to his pokemon. He looks down at the little baby pokemon still curled up against his chest and sighs heavily.

He doesn't answer. He feels like a mess, and worse than that, a mess who's spreading his shit to the people around him. He shouldn't need babysat, he should never have made Rascal cry. He feels guilty and tired and ashamed, and it hurts. But all he can do is try to console the poor, scared little guy huddled against his chest, and try to put his friends at ease.]

...You're okay, buddy. It's okay, I've got you.

[Priiii...]

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[Beckoning Stripes up onto the bed so that the pup can sit next to North and Rascal, Carolina shifts herself backward and crosses her legs to get comfortable.

Nothing wrong with three grown ass adults spending the night together after someone's nightmares, right?]

...He's already pretty smart. He went to find York as soon as he could, it looks like.

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Mm-hm.

[York pillows his head on folded arms and watches North and Rascal.

Prone and too heavy to move, he gives every impression of planning to stay there, if not conk right the hell out, for the rest of the night. He gives every impression of comfortable ease--except for how carefully he's watching. How at ease he is not.

But his words run in the familiar, even tone North would get when they'd run into each other late at night on the MoI; gentler than his day voice, something he can hold serious conversations in without being grave.]

Dunno how he got out of your room, though. Crafty little escape artist. Maybe I should teach him my tricks, get me a protégé in the making.

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