[ That is kind of a really flattering thing to read. Claire spends a moment just kind of looking at her phone like she doesn't entirely know what to do with it. ]
Severus isn't sure, but he seems to have implicitly agreed to. Down the hall, he stops at the room next to his assigned quarters that he's taken over for his own private store-room and downs the contents of a small bottle. His ribs, bandaged in the useless muggle fashion, knit themselves back together from the inside out. He has to stay with his hands pressed to the table, breathing slowly and controlled, for a solid minute. The sensation is uncomfortable and more brittle-painful than it is at home, but it works.
He knocks on Claire's door. Cleaned up as well as he can be, but there's still dark circles from under his eyes from hitting his head - it makes him look even more wraithlike than usual.
[ On the one hand, as soon as she sends the message through, she feels guilty. The last thing that he needs to be doing after being punched into a concussion - so she assumes - is listening to her badgering questions, but on the other hand, Claire feels a little bit like he owes it to her. She knows she doesn't handle situations like these the way that normal people might and in these circumstances, Claire doesn't care much either way. The last hour and a half has been spent so frustrated and pissed off that she almost feels some sort of validation when he knocks on her door.
She's had so much time to practice and go over exactly what she wants to say that she feels more than a little confident in her abilities when she gets up to open the door. Her hair is swept up and back, away from her face, so that the precise moment that confidence fails her is more evidently displayed than it might be were she able to hide behind the short bounce of her hair. One of these days, he's going to stop showing up to her in these conditions.
For a beat, Claire doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something approaching pity but stretched too thin to be a full-blown version. Finally she draws in a breath and steps aside so that he can come in. ]
You should probably sit down before you fall down.
I should probably give up breathing if it's that bad, [ is his deadpan (though still tired-sounding) response. He's perfectly aware of how ugly he is even without the visible damage. He looks worse than he feels, at least - the exhaustion bothers him more than all else.
He waits a moment before he walks in, but he does. Severus sits down gingerly on the edge of cot that doesn't look like it's the one she sleeps in. ]
[ Claire coaxes the door to close and sits across from him, perched on the edge of her cot with her knees bent and her fingers tucked under the edge, holding on as she leans forward a bit. It's the exhaustion, practically palpable, that encourages her to be sympathetic. Not that she needs the encouragement, not that it wouldn't have spilled out on its own no matter how mad she wanted to stay. Now that he's actually in front of her, Claire finds it difficult to maintain that particular sentiment. ]
You look exhausted. What happened?
[ She feels like she's asked that a hundred times in the last hour, but they might as well get down to business before she does something stupid like try to hug him. ]
Miles Edgeworth, the loud one in security, went after me over whatever Black's been telling him. I'm not sure what he meant to accomplish, but attacked me, first physically and then with what I assume is telekinesis. He insists he had no conscious control over it.
[ Which is, you know, a huge problem. ] Xavier and I are going to try and work something out to get him help.
[ There's an unsaid 'but' that hangs for a moment. ]
I thought you should know because he's made it clear he hates Nathan.
[ Green eyes narrow and then narrow again. Her first instinct is to capitalize on her reluctance to believe in that as a viable excuse, but she has to stop and remind herself that there was a point in time where none of them knew how to control any of what they could do. She still can't, even if her ability is a passive one, but Claire remembers what it was like watching Peter burn out of control in Kirby Plaza. Eventually she exhales and looks away, shaking her head. ]
People hating Nathan isn't news to me. [ This said with the confidence and understanding of someone who once hated him very, very much. ] But I can't imagine he'll do anything to piss Edgeworth off right now. He didn't wake up after the last jump.
[ She doesn't say it nonchalantly, but there's a certain dismissal to it all the same. These are the facts; this is how things are. After burying him, a certain numbness settles in regarding the lesser offenses. ]
Do you think he'd try to do something anyway? [ She looks back over at him, finding her small collection of personal possessions less interesting than the heavy circles under his eyes and the way that he holds himself. ] Or come after you again?
[ Severus exhales through his nose in a sigh, and shoves a hand over his forehead, through his hair. It's a rare gesture, and he looks slightly tense for it midway through. ] I have no idea. I don't pretend to understand the motivations of a man who says he's a 'lawyer' and takes the word of angry teenager as dear enough proof to do something like this.
[ Even if the things Sirius are certainly saying about him were true, this would have been stupid - actually, it would have been far more stupid. If Severus really were a true and loyal Death Eater, Black would be dead. And now so would Edgeworth. Severus doesn't understand these people and their simple, limited thought processes. He never will. ]
I'm not the only person he's ever been angry with on the ship. At least we've found out through him attacking me and not someone who could not have defended themselves.
[ With a fist or with a spell, she doesn't clarify, though she's thinking the former rather than the latter, never mind that it would be far more logical to assume otherwise. There's a conviction in her voice that isn't accusing him of exacerbating the situation: part of her hopes that he did, that at least part of Edgeworth is worse for wear in retaliation. Claire finds herself wishing that she had been there, but she doesn't express it. Instead, she shakes her head as if to clear it. ]
What even prompted this? I know you said it has to do with something Sirius said or has been saying - [ And she wonders what that is, now more than ever. ] - but... what? Did you just scowl at him the wrong way in the hall?
[ She cracks a small, lukewarm grin, no real force behind it. ]
[ Yes. He hit him back. He stopped after he saw that he'd gotten Edgeworth to stop in turn - what he did was both awful and merciful; awful because there is no suffering like the pain of the Cruciatus, merciful because when it ends it ends and leaves no lasting damage beyond varying tiredness. (At first. If he went at him with it for hours on end, that would be another story, but Severus is not Bellatrix.)
And then, that. Which he knew he'd have to discuss sooner or later, either like this or because someone else finally told her. ]
I told you before. Black hates me. If you listen to him for long enough, he will tell you that I'm a bigot and a murderer and a terrorist. His opinions are based off of things he doesn't like about me from when we were schoolboys, and not the war I've fought. That he will fight in too, someday, but that the young man here has not experienced at all and knows nothing about.
[ It's a nice way of putting it. Reacting. There's a certain level of responsibility inherent and the satisfaction of having done anything at all, and Claire gets it. He isn't the only one in the room who has ever reacted, even if the circumstances aren't on the same playing field or remotely the same whatsoever, even if she ultimately regretted some of the terrible things that she did and watched happen. That isn't the bit that catches her up.
Of course it was always going to be the last piece of what he's said, and of course she's always known that there are things about himself that she has no conception of and things she's never asked about and things that she has no real right knowing. That's not going to stop her, not when approaching trains never have. She's known from the beginning that he isn't all roses and sunshine and that maybe the corners no one looks into with him are darker than anyone really expects. Claire stopped being afraid of monsters in the closet the moment one of them showed up outside of her bedroom door. ]
Those are pretty serious charges to level against someone.
[ No qualifiers, no 'even ifs.' Claire knows what it's like to accuse someone of those things and mean it. She keeps very still, looking at him directly, saying what she does very carefully. She doesn't want to ask if it's true - coming right out and saying it seems so indelicate and offensive - but it's hard to be inquisitive without sounding like she's being judgmental. ]
It doesn't matter if it's true or not. [ It is true and it isn't. Severus doesn't know how to answer, or explain, or even begin to articulate how he feels. It's a mess and the biggest tangled web he's ever been caught in. Which says something, as he's been in several. ] I did things in the war that no one else could have done. Or would have, whether or not they were capable.
[ Severus is resting with his elbows on his knees and his posture slouched. Tired. He looks at her, plain. This is unavoidable. ]
He has no idea. But he believes, and people believe him.
[ No one is going to rush to Severus's defense. He hasn't exactly been kind to everyone and, no matter how many good things he's done, superficial attitude will always trump actions. He knows this. ]
I'd just like to be left alone. Instead I have to solve all their problems and carry all the blame for it anyway--[ he cuts himself off and looks away. He's not going to complain, not to her. Not when she's been kind to him and all he's done in return is be a pain in the ass and then admit all this. ]
[ Well, no, it does matter. She's left feeling uncomfortable by his non-answer, and Claire can't determine whether or not it's a result of not knowing for sure if what he's been accused of has a grain of truth or if she's uncomfortable by the fact that she's not as uncomfortable as she should be. Maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe it's stage one denial, and she doesn't want to consider the option that the only person she's even moderately comfortable around on this ship might be someone not altogether sound.
It's a precarious position, because no matter which way she looks at it, she finds that it matters substantially less than it might have a couple of years ago. She just doesn't want to find them on opposing sides of a line drawn somewhere, which would be more devastating than to find out those accusations were even half true.
(Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows they probably are, just as much as she recognizes that you can't always reconcile deeds done with intentions behind them. No good deed, and all that. It's something she'll have to cross when she comes to it.)]
Okay. [ She's quiet for a while preceding that and following it, just trying to find her balance and determine what to say next. ] Well. I don't have any reason to believe him. I don't know him or what he's experienced or what he's done. I don't know you, either, not really, but I'm trying. Just to get some kind of an idea. Nothing's black and white, and I get that. People do what they have to do whether they want to or not. It's just the way things work out. Maybe one day Sirius will figure it out, and you'll get the peace of mind you're looking for.
[ Maybe. But there's always something else and then something else and then something else. ]
[ There. Fuck it. Sirius has told half the ship that Severus is pretending to have defected 'or something', there's absolutely no reason for him to continue to hide it. Except for how much it feels like shoving hot iron splinters under his fingernails, except for the fact that if Voldemort ever arrives he'll be executed and the rest of them will be murdered, except for everything.
He hates saying it.
Stilted and difficult-sounding he continues, ]
You've been very kind to me. It's unwarranted. But thank you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I have a concussion.
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What happened.
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[ WHY IS EVERYONE MAD AT HIM THIS MONTH ]
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Okay. I'm listening.
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[ - is not an excuse to get out of it, it's him being grudgingly honest, because his stupid head hurts. Stupidly. This is all stupid!! ]
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Does he want to?
Severus isn't sure, but he seems to have implicitly agreed to. Down the hall, he stops at the room next to his assigned quarters that he's taken over for his own private store-room and downs the contents of a small bottle. His ribs, bandaged in the useless muggle fashion, knit themselves back together from the inside out. He has to stay with his hands pressed to the table, breathing slowly and controlled, for a solid minute. The sensation is uncomfortable and more brittle-painful than it is at home, but it works.
He knocks on Claire's door. Cleaned up as well as he can be, but there's still dark circles from under his eyes from hitting his head - it makes him look even more wraithlike than usual.
He's also very tired. It shows. ]
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She's had so much time to practice and go over exactly what she wants to say that she feels more than a little confident in her abilities when she gets up to open the door. Her hair is swept up and back, away from her face, so that the precise moment that confidence fails her is more evidently displayed than it might be were she able to hide behind the short bounce of her hair. One of these days, he's going to stop showing up to her in these conditions.
For a beat, Claire doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something approaching pity but stretched too thin to be a full-blown version. Finally she draws in a breath and steps aside so that he can come in. ]
You should probably sit down before you fall down.
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He waits a moment before he walks in, but he does. Severus sits down gingerly on the edge of cot that doesn't look like it's the one she sleeps in. ]
I'm fine.
[ Just. For the record. ]
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You look exhausted. What happened?
[ She feels like she's asked that a hundred times in the last hour, but they might as well get down to business before she does something stupid like try to hug him. ]
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[ Which is, you know, a huge problem. ] Xavier and I are going to try and work something out to get him help.
[ There's an unsaid 'but' that hangs for a moment. ]
I thought you should know because he's made it clear he hates Nathan.
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People hating Nathan isn't news to me. [ This said with the confidence and understanding of someone who once hated him very, very much. ] But I can't imagine he'll do anything to piss Edgeworth off right now. He didn't wake up after the last jump.
[ She doesn't say it nonchalantly, but there's a certain dismissal to it all the same. These are the facts; this is how things are. After burying him, a certain numbness settles in regarding the lesser offenses. ]
Do you think he'd try to do something anyway? [ She looks back over at him, finding her small collection of personal possessions less interesting than the heavy circles under his eyes and the way that he holds himself. ] Or come after you again?
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[ Even if the things Sirius are certainly saying about him were true, this would have been stupid - actually, it would have been far more stupid. If Severus really were a true and loyal Death Eater, Black would be dead. And now so would Edgeworth. Severus doesn't understand these people and their simple, limited thought processes. He never will. ]
I'm not the only person he's ever been angry with on the ship. At least we've found out through him attacking me and not someone who could not have defended themselves.
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[ With a fist or with a spell, she doesn't clarify, though she's thinking the former rather than the latter, never mind that it would be far more logical to assume otherwise. There's a conviction in her voice that isn't accusing him of exacerbating the situation: part of her hopes that he did, that at least part of Edgeworth is worse for wear in retaliation. Claire finds herself wishing that she had been there, but she doesn't express it. Instead, she shakes her head as if to clear it. ]
What even prompted this? I know you said it has to do with something Sirius said or has been saying - [ And she wonders what that is, now more than ever. ] - but... what? Did you just scowl at him the wrong way in the hall?
[ She cracks a small, lukewarm grin, no real force behind it. ]
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[ Yes. He hit him back. He stopped after he saw that he'd gotten Edgeworth to stop in turn - what he did was both awful and merciful; awful because there is no suffering like the pain of the Cruciatus, merciful because when it ends it ends and leaves no lasting damage beyond varying tiredness. (At first. If he went at him with it for hours on end, that would be another story, but Severus is not Bellatrix.)
And then, that. Which he knew he'd have to discuss sooner or later, either like this or because someone else finally told her. ]
I told you before. Black hates me. If you listen to him for long enough, he will tell you that I'm a bigot and a murderer and a terrorist. His opinions are based off of things he doesn't like about me from when we were schoolboys, and not the war I've fought. That he will fight in too, someday, but that the young man here has not experienced at all and knows nothing about.
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[ It's a nice way of putting it. Reacting. There's a certain level of responsibility inherent and the satisfaction of having done anything at all, and Claire gets it. He isn't the only one in the room who has ever reacted, even if the circumstances aren't on the same playing field or remotely the same whatsoever, even if she ultimately regretted some of the terrible things that she did and watched happen. That isn't the bit that catches her up.
Of course it was always going to be the last piece of what he's said, and of course she's always known that there are things about himself that she has no conception of and things she's never asked about and things that she has no real right knowing. That's not going to stop her, not when approaching trains never have. She's known from the beginning that he isn't all roses and sunshine and that maybe the corners no one looks into with him are darker than anyone really expects. Claire stopped being afraid of monsters in the closet the moment one of them showed up outside of her bedroom door. ]
Those are pretty serious charges to level against someone.
[ No qualifiers, no 'even ifs.' Claire knows what it's like to accuse someone of those things and mean it. She keeps very still, looking at him directly, saying what she does very carefully. She doesn't want to ask if it's true - coming right out and saying it seems so indelicate and offensive - but it's hard to be inquisitive without sounding like she's being judgmental. ]
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[ Severus is resting with his elbows on his knees and his posture slouched. Tired. He looks at her, plain. This is unavoidable. ]
He has no idea. But he believes, and people believe him.
[ No one is going to rush to Severus's defense. He hasn't exactly been kind to everyone and, no matter how many good things he's done, superficial attitude will always trump actions. He knows this. ]
I'd just like to be left alone. Instead I have to solve all their problems and carry all the blame for it anyway--[ he cuts himself off and looks away. He's not going to complain, not to her. Not when she's been kind to him and all he's done in return is be a pain in the ass and then admit all this. ]
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It's a precarious position, because no matter which way she looks at it, she finds that it matters substantially less than it might have a couple of years ago. She just doesn't want to find them on opposing sides of a line drawn somewhere, which would be more devastating than to find out those accusations were even half true.
(Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows they probably are, just as much as she recognizes that you can't always reconcile deeds done with intentions behind them. No good deed, and all that. It's something she'll have to cross when she comes to it.)]
Okay. [ She's quiet for a while preceding that and following it, just trying to find her balance and determine what to say next. ] Well. I don't have any reason to believe him. I don't know him or what he's experienced or what he's done. I don't know you, either, not really, but I'm trying. Just to get some kind of an idea. Nothing's black and white, and I get that. People do what they have to do whether they want to or not. It's just the way things work out. Maybe one day Sirius will figure it out, and you'll get the peace of mind you're looking for.
[ Maybe. But there's always something else and then something else and then something else. ]
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[ There. Fuck it. Sirius has told half the ship that Severus is pretending to have defected 'or something', there's absolutely no reason for him to continue to hide it. Except for how much it feels like shoving hot iron splinters under his fingernails, except for the fact that if Voldemort ever arrives he'll be executed and the rest of them will be murdered, except for everything.
He hates saying it.
Stilted and difficult-sounding he continues, ]
You've been very kind to me. It's unwarranted. But thank you.
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