How long was I out?

[dadcepticon]

Who: Krok, residents of apartment 2-01, Ratchet, other invitees
Where: Building 4 apartment 2-01
When: Backdated to 01 October, mid-morningish.
Summary: Krok finally wakes up from stasis. He feels like death on toast.
Warnings: None as of posting? Clingy robot.

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Wakefulness comes slowly, in little bits and pieces. Krok is mostly aware first of light – dim and soft even on his scoured-raw optical circuits, mostly blotted out by the curtains. It's hard to tell quite where he is for a few moments and the disorientation makes his fuel pump twist in a weird and painful way. Immediately on the heels of this revelation comes the fact that he can't really move much, body not quite back under his control and stiff from too long spent still. It's several agonisingly long moments before he can turn his head even a little, just enough that he can see a bookcase on the far wall.

One of his bookcases. In his room, in their hab suite in the strange alien city of Saeng Seong. Krok sighs and sags back into the bed, relieved and a little light-headed. He can't quite recall just how he got here when the last he remembers, Spinister asked him out on a walk–

Oh. Memory flickers back in distorted snatches of dialogue and pictures, slowly coming together out of order. They'd put him to sleep, hadn't they? Anxious, he looks around again, then to the door. He remembers the nightmare – remembers it feeling different from all the other times, wrong; he doesn't remember much else. Did he really sleep? Krok blinks dully at the ceiling. He's sure his chronometer readings are off, looking at the date and time, but…

No, it's too hard to think that critically about anything.

"…Spinister?" he croaks, voice harsh and low from lack of use, as he tries to sit up.

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By the time Krok leaves messages for both Diarmuid and Kit – the only friends he can think of immediately who might be worried by his abrupt absence, given how consistently they'd spoken just before – he's had some energon and two checkups and even been allowed to walk himself to the living room. Spinister hovered the entire time in case he stumbled or collapsed, so he'd stubbornly carried on all the way to the sofa, his chair just a few steps too far.

He's paying for it now with aching hips and weak knees, but seated and reading, he doesn't much care. The book is more to pass the time than anything because all Krok can do is keep glancing up at the door, vaguely anxious. He rather hopes the little ones accept his invitation; he actually misses them.

All he can do in the meanwhile is wait. And try to plan out his responses if Misfire or Fulcrum pops up to poke him.

Comments

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It doesn't take Diarmuid long to make it to Krok's apartment after he leaves his response to his friend's message. His violet bag is slung over his back and there are two pieces of paper held carefully in one of his arms. He knocks on the door as loudly as he can and hopes that Krok will answer. He had not sounded well in the message and Diarmuid is so worried. Did the person who attacked him before attack again? Is that why Krok disappeared so long?

"Krok? It's Diarmuid! Can I come in?"

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"Yes," Krok calls back, looking up at the door and smiling. "Come in, please. The door's unlocked." He sets his book aside and straightens up where he sits as best he can. He'd rather greet Diarmuid at the door, but he does what he's able.

And what won't get Spinister even more upset with him.

[smallspot]

Diarmuid doesn't waste any time coming in once he is given permission. It worries Diarmuid that Krok doesn't answer the door himself, but at least, once he is in the room, he can see that Krok is in one piece physically. However, his friend had not been doing well emotionally the last time Diarmuid saw him. How is he doing emotionally now?

The boy runs over to where Krok is sitting and starts to give him a big hug, stopping only when he realizes that he will wrinkle the papers he has in his arm if he does, "I brought you some housewarming gifts!" He holds out the pieces of paper. When Krok takes them he will find that they are a pair of childish crayon drawings. One is of Diarmuid, Grey, and Lir and the other is of Diarmuid and Krok.

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Krok honestly expects the hug – not so much the sudden stop. He blinks in surprise and tilts his head to one side, curious. Gifts?

"Housewarming…?" he repeats in bemusement. He isn't quite back up to full speed yet and can't seem to find the word anywhere in his lexicon and the possible contexts of the root terms make no real sense.

Then Diarmuid shows them off and Krok chuckles quietly.

"I see," he murmurs even though the word still escapes him for the moment. With the utmost care to avoid tearing fragile paper, he takes the drawings in his rough, scarred fingers, giving them a closer look. He recognises his own likeness as well as Diarmuid's, and after a moment, even the big grey dog from the park. "Thank you," he says, leaning forward slowly to set the drawings down on the coffee table beside his stack of books. "Thank you very much. And I'm sorry it took so long to finally invite you over."

[smallspot]

Diarmuid is sure he explained the word to Krok once before, so he can't help but frown slightly when his friend doesn't remember it. Then, Diarmuid thinks about all the stuff Krok has been through lately and his frown vanishes, "Housewarming is something you do when someone moves to a new place. You give them things to help them feel more at home there. I am glad you like the pictures. I know it's not much, but I wanted what I gave you to be something I made!"

Once the pictures are set somewhere safe, Diarmuid wastes no more time giving Krok the biggest hug he can, "It's okay. Bad things happened and they aren't your fault. I've been so worried about you. How are you doing? How is your crew doing?"

[dadcepticon]

Oh, what his commanding officers would think to see Krok practically basking in the hug Diarmuid gives him, nary so much as a blink at the little human clinging to him. It does wonders to soothe his jangled nerves and he just sighs, curling his arms carefully around Diarmuid to return the hug. Such a warm little thing.

"I'm… recovering," he explains after a moment to think over his phrasing. He adds in a voice too weary for proper humour, "My crew are pretty unhappy with me, all things told." Well, Spinister is. Might be. Probably isn't. But they'd have good reason to be if they were.

[smallspot]

"Why would they be unhappy with you? Are you sure they aren't just worried about you? Sometimes people show worry in weird ways," Diarmuid is in no hurry to break the hug, so Krok can enjoy it as long as he wants to. "A lot of bad things were happening. I don't understand them all, but they are done now, right? No one else is going to get hurt?"

The unspoken question is 'No one is else going to hurt you, right?'

[dadcepticon]

Diarmuid has a fair point; if anyone Krok knows would show worry in bizarre ways, it's virtually any member of his crew. So he just nods and doesn't argue the matter, instead trying to pat the little boy reassuringly.

"No," he murmurs. "No, I don't think anyone else will be hurt." Anyone else, no. Krok, well… he isn't free of the nightmares, according to Spinister and Ratchet both. And no measures taken against them seem to have done a thing, so he's at something of a loss in how to cope. So he smiles – it's a little thin with exhaustion, but genuine at least – and elects to find a different topic. "What have I missed?"

[smallspot]

Diarmuid frowns slightly at Krok's answer. He can tell there is something more that his friend isn't telling him, but maybe a little later it will come out. For now, Diarmuid will accept the change of topic.

"What is the last thing you remember happening in the city that wasn't part of...all that?" With how much Krok's memory has been messed with, Diarmuid is not sure what the last thing Krok recalls is. The last weeks have been kind of quiet, but if the missing time goes beyond that he needs to cover a lot more.

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"That's–" Krok pauses, thinking. He's mostly all back in order now, but too many memories were compiled when he was too fragmented to keep the data straight; some things are just too muddled to be certain. "It's a little… mixed up," he admits, embarrassed more than anything else. "There were new arrivals in the city, I remember that. And you told me a story – no, that came before." Krok shakes his head and laughs quietly at himself, though the sound is rough. "Looks like I might not be back up to speed yet."

He sighs and settles back into the sofa, relaxing a little. It's worrisome that he can't think straight just yet, and that the nightmares will come back, but for now… for now, it's fine.

"I guess that's what I get for coming down sick," he says wryly.

[smallspot]

Diarmuid gently pats Krok's arm, "It's okay. Everyone gets sick sometimes." To be honest, when it comes to giant robots, Diarmuid isn't sure if 'sick' is the right word, but it's the only one he really knows. No matter the exact word, though, Diarmuid knows being that way isn't Krok's fault. Not after all that happened to him.

"You remember my story...that was several months ago..." The boy pauses a moment to think about all that has happened. There are several fun things that stick out in his mind and then some not so fun ones. Of course, many of those are more personal and not things Krok would necessarily know full memory or not. However, there is one thing he can ask about.

"Do you remember anything about a man named Zeloph or a group called the Rangar?"

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Krok frowns at the ceiling and tries to think. The terms feel familiar; a candle, he thinks. He thinks there was a candle. And vague words on a screen. A frustrating conversation.

"Yes," he answers slowly without looking back to Diarmuid just yet. "Yes, I recall… something. It was very strange." Now he looks down and musters a smirk. "So I didn't dream all that, hm?"

[smallspot]

"No! It was strange..." After all how often does a person contact another via lighting candles? "...but it did happen! Zeloph is real and so are the Rangar. They are outside the city and are fighting to keep the miasma at bay. The scientists...they didn't think they were good enough to save in the city. That is why some of the younger people were causing trouble for us. They were angry and bitter at how much they have to suffer while others are safe here in the city!"

[dadcepticon]

What Diarmuid describes is sobering indeed, and reminds Krok of Cybertron in one or two chilling ways. A frown tugs at his brow; it's not in him to think very charitably of anyone making themselves arbiters of who deserves to live and die.

"I see," he says, voice flat. A certain phrase from long, long ago rings in the back of his mind. An important phrase. It changed the entire world. You are being deceived. He peers more closely at Diarmuid, head cocked slightly to the left as he wills his brain module to catch up, to start compiling. "Is it true?" he prompts. "What they said – that they've been exiled outside the city. Do you know if it's true?" After all, the little boy seems to know so much of the goings-on in Saeng Seong.

[smallspot]

Diarmuid nods sadly, "I think so. Some people even went out to meet them! Do you know Lord James? Ummm..." he pauses a moment and then adds quickly, "some people call him Bucky! He knows even more about what is going on than me. I know I miss things because I am little and I just don't understand."

"Zeloph is Rhea's brother so we were able to ask her if what he was saying was true. She said it was. They have even added some information about the Rangar to the letters that are given to new arrivals!"