rekindleme | (no subject)

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Who: Dick and y'all thar
Where: Shopping district.
When: 04/27, morning
Summary: Dick is two days into stage three withdrawal, and faking health because the show must go on.
Warnings: will update if necessary, but he does have some nausea. I'll avoid it in threads, but he might mention it.

It made him a little angry at himself-- you know, you can do complex trapeze routines after literally having your acrobatic ability taken away, but you can't walk to the mall with a fever without stopping to vomit? Get a grip.

It was the choice -- stay at home sick or walk around sick -- that made him go. He found a small radio and a pair of walkie-talkies for his project, but nothing more useful than that. For all that he was flushed and sweaty and walking at roughly the pace of a sloth with a ball and chain, he was trying to juggle the two walkie-talkies and the radio. Trying to force himself to ignore the dizziness and the queasiness by focusing, focusing on the way the three objects would leave his hands, each in revolution, and it required a lot of concentration, a lot of concentration that would be hard to muster if he wasn't trying to figure out if that dark-haired girl he'd glimpsed at the market before a dizzy spell the other day really was Piper or if M'gann was in withdrawal, too, or if Barbara was or if there wasn't a walkie-talkie falling out of the air because he hadn't used enough force and it just bounced off his skull.

Wow. Okay. That distracted from the queasiness, but he staggered-- it exacerbated the dizziness. He had enough wherewithal to dodge the other walkie-talkie and the radio, but the day he was going to let a little trifling illness bring him to his knees is--

--apparently this one. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and reached for his purchases with a tired sigh. He'd thought about going to visit M'gann, but her stupid little white lies required more tiptoeing than he could really care about, between the fever and the dizziness and the sense of unbalance he'd felt after the first anniversary of his families' deaths he hadn't been able to mark or adequately distract himself from. And, sick or not, he knew what they'd say:

The show must go on, if only back home and straight to bed...

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Her shoulder was aching as she turned a bleary eyed glare on the walkie-talkie on the floor next to her. WHY was her shoulder aching? Because someone had nailed her on it with said two way radio. One moment she was walking across the walkway trying to find her way down to the main lobby of her building, the next she was waking up with a sore shoulder sprawled across the floor of said walk way. A fainting spell? What the hell.

Yeah, Piper had returned, so yes, that girl he'd seen at the store earlier WAS Piper, and she was in no better shape than he was. The difference between the two of them was that where as he knew what he was up against and dealing with, and was even managing to combat Piper wasn't so lucky. She had no idea what brought the sickness on or why it was getting progressively worse. Well, no, not true. She'd heard about withdrawals being a thing, but... no way, right? Not physically possible!

Yeah, right, which was exactly why she was in this situation, right? She'd been trying to make it out of the apartment complex and had failed pretty miserably. She brought a hand up to her head as if that was enough to help with the dizziness and managed to get herself into an upright sitting position with her back against the wall of the walkway.

"Who the heck threw that?"

Edited 2014-04-27 10:05 (UTC)

Dick cringed. You know, usually his aim, and he had aimed, was better than that. Maybe the withdrawal was a little too much for him...

"Guilty!" he shouted, trying to keep it brief because he didn't want the queasiness to get any ideas.

He waved, vaguely, in her direction, not wanting to shout again.

Well the jury is still out on whether or not being woken up via projectile to the shoulder was better or worse than being woken up via alarm clock, but considering the levels of disconcerted in the head she was? Piper's money was on the prior. Her insides kept wanting to come outside and she was sure that having a bell ringing at top volume in her ears wasn't going to help with that. So there were worse ways to be woken up, in the end.

From there Piper proceeded to try to get back onto her feet again, she didn't feel like yelling across the walkway either.

After some concentrated effort to make a steady path over to where Dick was standing (and she probably didn't look much better with how sick she felt) she made an attempt to lean as casually as possible against the nearest wall- like she was doing it because it was comfortable and not because she needed the wall's help to remain standing without keeling over.

Failing in that regard, she was pretty sure.

"Were you trying to get my attention?"

"Well, yeah," he said.

Well, duh, he thought.

And yes, while she was failing, let Dick not be the first to cast stones-- or walkie-talkies, as it were. His arms were crossed in a faint attempt to keep himself from slouching too obviously, and to keep him from wiping his brow too much.

"Missed you."

He says it rather bluntly, and it surprises him. But it's hard to think of what you're going to say when you feel as ill as he does.

At first she looked surprised, and then she looked absolutely skeptical of his assessment, rubbing her shoulder absently for emphasis.

"Um, no? I'm pretty sure you didn't."

I'll have the bruise to prove it later- is what she didn't say.

But she looked unsure. That didn't sound entirely like he was talking about his aim.

"... Do I know you?"

Agreed, it was stupidly difficult not to be blunt right now, and that kind of guilty twist (what the heck) she gets from his admission is not helping her feel less queasy.

"Oh, not the-- the thing," he said, tightening his self-hug. It's not helping.

"But yeah, you do. I'm pretty sure you knocked me off a roof, accidentally. Because of the withdrawal."

~~she did what~~

"Knocked you off a-"

WHAT???

"I don't think so. You definitely have the wrong girl." She was clearly disturbed that he thought she was capable of attempted manslaughter- or homocide- WHICHEVER IT WOULD BE. "Why would I try to push you off of a roof??"

Besides which, with these "contact withdrawals" as they are she can barely push herself off of the wall to stand let alone push a teenage boy over a ledge- even if she wanted to. Her arms and her legs are trembling just with the effort to stand up straight. The idea, to her, was absolutely ridiculous!

Edited 2014-05-05 10:17 (UTC)

"Sorry, I phrased that--" he drops one arm and brings the other hand to wipe his brow.

"Give me your hand, okay?" He holds his out-- thankfully, not the sweaty one. "Pride goeth afore I fall right on my face."

He closed his eyes, briefly, hand still out, and took a deep breath.

"It was more like, you asked me to walk off the roof, and I did, because I was... compelled."

Ugh. This city is really going to make them do the touching thing, isn't it? She was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid. If things kept progressing at the rate they had been then both of them would indeed be laid out on their faces before they knew it. It was just his hand, besides, and if he knew her then maybe HE could explain why her room was already furnished with things and clothes that seemed to suit her taste. Maybe there was an answer to all of the strange questions.

Maybe she should just take his hand and stop thinking about it.

So after staring at his hand for a few moments she did eventually reach out, taking hold. The relief wasn't strong, but she felt a fraction of a bit better than she had a second ago.

Her free arm came up to wipe at her own brow, wiping a layer of sweat away. The frown stayed, though. Too much energy required to be shocked by that last admission.

"But that still doesn't make sense. Why was I asking you to walk off the roof...?"

... She should probably be a little leery. Maybe this guy tried to kill her or something? But what he said at least made sense. It was in line with what happened with the salesmen she'd encountered and "robbed".

Wow. Dick was just that far off his game-- everything he said just came out five kinds of wrong.

"I think it was... sarcasm," he said. "But you were sick, and you have... I mean, you're compelling."

Did she want others to know about her powers? Here? He didn't want to chance mentioning it.

He sighed as the worst edge of his nausea dulled. Bless, bless this girl and her timing. Even if she was confusing him.

"You've been here a while, Piper. I'm afraid you're confusing me as much as I'm confusing you."

She'd seemed so sorry after the roof thing. He'd thought she was being more careful.

So he definitely knew her. And sarcasm. Okay. That made sense, too, but... just, that wasn't exactly a GOOD thing was it? It wasn't exactly a relief to hear that she'd almost killed someone- Sticks and stones, her ass.

"Well if by a while you mean a month."

She paused, letting out a breath as the edge started to come off of her dizziness.

"I just got here last month. I don't know how they managed to drag me off here, or where here even is."

God, was it amnesia? Was that what had happened to her?

"I didn't... I didn't hit my head or anything when the roof thing happened, did I?"

"Uh, you weren't the one in danger of that." Just for the record. He has a brief pang in his head from remembering that, oh yeah, haven't spoken to M'gann all month, have you? But he dismisses that as the contact not working fast enough.

"You disappeared a month ago." I looked for you, being the implication. "The roof thing was an accident. You said sorry. And no harm was done."

But the rest of the stuff... typical of being new, he felt, and frowned. "None of us do. Mass kidnapping, touch others or suffer, that's about the... end of it."

Her face was gaining some of its coloring back steadily until then, but his comment caused her face to flush hot with embarrassment. She hadn't been intending to play a victim card- he wasn't the only one suffering from phrasing difficulties.

"No, I meant- I'm trying to figure out why I don't remember being here before."

Smarta--

"Good. I'm not the kind of person that goes around telling people to put themselves in danger."

Well, she winced, then frowned, brows knit tight for a moment.

"You'd be the first person that knows about my..."

Charmspeak is what she might have said, if her memories had been intact, but instead the pause feels heavier, less like she's hesitating and more like she has to fish for a good word to finish that with.

"... persuasiveness."

She might have to start using it now that she was at the end of her stipend, though.

"Sorry, again, for what it's worth. Would you mind telling me your name? You know, since we're already holding hands and all." And she was strangely compelled to admit dumb things.

"I'm Dick," he said, and braced himself for the usual responses. Most of his stock answers teased the edge of his sick-muddled brain.

His other hand comes to sandwich the one of hers. God, his mind just isn't clearing fast enough. He's going to have to find a girlfriend so this doesn't happen again.

"Persuasiveness," he echoed. "I wish you could persuade the people here to tell us anything. I don't know why you don't remember, but I know you couldn't persuade them to tell us anything before, so I doubt it'll happen now. And it's the people who run the place that have all the answers."

Nope. As someone who got teased for her name as much as her ethnicity she was not about to be that person.

In fact, all she said was-

"Short for Richard, right?"

Look it has been established that both of them are a little out of it, at least what she's blurting out now actually makes sense and isn't painfully obvious like earlier.

Obvious, just not painfully so.

Maybe.

Also the hand holding was... strange. Thinking of it as strange was strange. But she was holding hands with a stranger. In fact, she was thinking about doing other things with this stranger if it just meant getting totally back to normal and staying that way. He'd likely be the first person she called if she needed some help again, just because he was the first person she'd let get this close.

"They're the ones that brought us here, right? Maybe they did something to us."

Not buying the whole "withdrawal" bit being natural. Her money is on them MAKING them sick.

"Some kind of human testing? Maybe they're just really, really strong willed."

Fingers curling around the edge of his hand, but she's not quite there returning the hand-sandwiching yet. Instead- "... Do you feel like you can walk again? Maybe we can go someplace less open to talk?"

Wow that was a lot of words for someone usually so antisocial. ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED.

"Don't ask me why. I've never been able to figure it out."

By way of answer, he tugs her along, not breaking contact but approaching his room. It's most less-open place he can think of, and a fairly short trip, all considered.

"Not a bad thought to consider," he acknowledged, approaching the elevator. "But I think we should both be firing on all cylinders before we go making ourselves paranoid. I've heard of this thing causing delusions."

Hasn't he? He thinks he has.

For that matter, M'gann herself hasn't been the most social creature; sure, she's ventured out a few times, had a little bit of physical contact here and there. But the fact is, exploration outside the city took a lot out of her, and she's had to take her time with recovering from it. She'd sooner avoid a repeat with what happened.

...Even if that means she's avoided Robin for weeks, as a consequence. She just didn't know how to approach him. And even now, as she lurks outside of his apartment (quite literally outside of it; she pulled together just enough energy to hover up to the balcony and everything) M'gann isn't sure if just a simple apology is enough.

It doesn't do a lot for her confidence in this plan when she realizes that he doesn't appear to be at home.

This really doesn't feel like a good idea, from the way her stomach tries to push itself into a different shape as she stretches her thoughts out. M'gann ignores the sensation, and pushes her link a little further, to see if she can make some contact and figure out where he is. She can pick out other thoughts floating around, but they don't have that same familiar note to them as Robin's; where is he, anyway?

'Hi...Robin? Are you out there somewhere?' She still (against that worried, shy voice entrenched in her head) sends that thought out there, hoping he'll pick up on the link.

The radio and walkie-talkies clatter to the ground again, as he clutched his temples.

'Go away, auditory hallucination M'gann voice,' he willed, with a dry mental laugh. 'But thanks, brain, for hallucinating M'gann and not my parents or cousin or something.'

Still more on the ground than not, he kept his eyes open, focusing on the gadgets he'd gotten.

'Radio signals,' he thought, 'and sound waves, and microwaves, and antennae, and psychic links...'

Argh, no, that was not the thought-trail he wanted to start down... He groaned, audibly, moving a hand to try and get a feel for how warm he was.

'Okay, a hallucination of Mom would probably not be amiss right now,' he admitted.

There's a noticeable wince that travels through M'gann when she first hears that. Is he still angry at her-?

Apparently not, from how he continues. But she doesn't relax as M'gann listens to his thoughts, and M'gann frowns out over the city to where she thinks she can trace his voice too.

'I'm not a hallucination; it's me...And it feels like there's something wrong.'

Also? Big-Sister-Team-Mom mode is pretty close to being activated, as M'gann puts one hand on the balcony railing and prepares to vault over it. And take a deep breath and hope that maybe she can work up enough power for some levitation.

'Where are you at? I can help you out!'

'Hnnngh,' is the most helpful thought he has there for about a minute and a half.

But he rubs his eyes and... this isn't working. As much as he hates to admit it, hearing her mental voice just brings it all home.

'Walking back from the mall,' he thinks back. 'Trying to... trying to figure out how to describe it more... helpfully.'

'I...I think I can get an idea of where you are?' She keeps her eyes fixed out on the streets as she says that. One more breath, and she launches herself off the balcony, half falling and half diving towards the next block or two over. She manages just enough in the way of lift to turn what she's doing into flight, hands also grasping at her cloak as some of the telekinetic gets transferred into that in order to help hold her up.

It's not quite like her old skin, using the folds running between her arms to help learn how to levitate...But it's close enough to help.

And when M'gann gets close enough to see Robin and go for a landing, she still keeps her hands clutched to her cape, treating it like a sort of comfort blanket.

"Found you?" She offers, taking a step closer. This is okay, right? Helping him now? She just has to work one hand free and see about holding it out to him.

Dick's hand reaches out in the direction of her voice. His head stays slumped. Partially out of paranoia, yes, because those brain blasts hurt like a-- but it's mostly the illness. He doesn't believe she'd brain blast him while he was sick like this.

Especially not if she was planning to say it was a brick.

"Five out of ten," he said tiredly, his other hand trying to wipe his brow or check his temp, he can't even remember anymore. "Next time, sprint for the finish line."

"Probably would be better if there isn't a next time." M'gann's voice drops as she moves closer. Her hand stays outstretched, and then with a huge amount of care she rests it on Robin's shoulder.

"...Have you been keeping up with contact?" She regrets asking almost immediately. M'gann herself has only barely been staying on top of it; something a low pain in the back of her head reminds her of. "Just- that explains why you aren't feeling so well."

She'd like to think it isn't all because of her. Maybe. Hopefully.

The fact that he doesn't have a comeback for that, not even pointing out the obvious, is really indicative. When he feels her hand on his shoulder, he covers it with his own-- the more contact the better, right?

"Sorry," he says, and with his brain-to-mouth filter acting up, he adds, "Barbara's got a girlfriend and I couldn't find Piper anywhere."

Anybody else, he'd be uncomfortable asking for help.

"Well...I can help you instead." She sounds a little more confident, saying that. "Kind of the least I can do."

She pauses for a moment, a flicker of concern moving through her face when Piper is brought up. And a similar worried buzz moves through her thoughts, complete with flickers of 'gone?' and a clear sense of unease.

Though she tries to muffle that out, instead pulling him up.

"We should get you back home." Hers or his; either works at this point.

He takes that as his cue to try and stand.

It takes a minute. Knees weak. He's a little shameless about hanging on to her.

"You lead," he says. "You might have to drag me the first few feet."

"Umph! I-I might be able to do better than that, if you give me a minute." It might just be her imagining things, now that they've got some contact going...But she's feeling marginally better. Or at least not like she's sliding any further, into a worse state.

~~Compared to what happened last time.~~

M'gann feels her shoulders knot up, as she tries to stretch out her focus properly. No backlash this time, she promises herself. Of all things, Robin's weight helps her focus, or at least gives her a potent reminder that she can't afford to mess this up.

So when she feels that first surge of levitation, M'gann's thoughts give a quick, elated flicker as she pulls her head up.

"Your place. It's closer." Plus, she already has the shortest route from here to the balcony memorized.

"I need so much more help than you do right now," he began, and very consciously, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "So that's a good choice. Drive on."

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