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"He's earned it." She draws back slow, leaving Dorian still unsatisfied. "On the bed. Conmac, help him get there without bumping into anything?"
This is something she could do, but she's enjoying issuing marching orders.
This is something she could do, but she's enjoying issuing marching orders.
"I'm okay," he promises, which is a lie, but he's clearly not worse off physically than he was the last time she saw him. He's back in his own clothes from a year ago, several layers of them, back in proper combat boots even, and his long hair's clean and tied back. "I didn't. I didn't die."
She doesn't seem mad, at least. Maybe she doesn't know? He pads over to offer her one of the mugs of chocolate. "Not sure if your death toll has nausea involved. Steve can't eat anything. But in case it doesn't."
She doesn't seem mad, at least. Maybe she doesn't know? He pads over to offer her one of the mugs of chocolate. "Not sure if your death toll has nausea involved. Steve can't eat anything. But in case it doesn't."
Sweeney releases Dorian’s throat and grabs the binding between his hands. He lifts it sharply in presentation to her, looking pointedly from her to the headboard and back with a raised brow, silently asking ‘do you want him tied to the bars?’.
“Back or knees?” he dutifully asks in follow up.
Whatever she decides, he’s prepared to execute. His hand slipping from Dorian’s hair, he shifts his knee so he can draw up the extra length of rope and pull the man up to standing. Sweeney allows him time to get his feet fully under him before turning his focus to getting the man up on the bed with a combination of yanking his hair and nudging the back of Dorian's thighs with his knees.
“Back or knees?” he dutifully asks in follow up.
Whatever she decides, he’s prepared to execute. His hand slipping from Dorian’s hair, he shifts his knee so he can draw up the extra length of rope and pull the man up to standing. Sweeney allows him time to get his feet fully under him before turning his focus to getting the man up on the bed with a combination of yanking his hair and nudging the back of Dorian's thighs with his knees.
Her smile is small and sympathetic. He isn't okay. Probably very few people are.
"I fall down sometimes," she is leaning even now, and motions him to follow her to the living space that has soft things to fall on. She settles onto the sofa. "But I don't get sick as much. Is Steve okay, besides the death toll? I tried to go find him but Godric convinced me to wait until I can walk a little further. Until I can stay up."
But the worry is obvious.
"I fall down sometimes," she is leaning even now, and motions him to follow her to the living space that has soft things to fall on. She settles onto the sofa. "But I don't get sick as much. Is Steve okay, besides the death toll? I tried to go find him but Godric convinced me to wait until I can walk a little further. Until I can stay up."
But the worry is obvious.
"Knees," she says, barely any hesitation behind it. She thinks it will make things easier for what she has planned when Sweeney gives in.
"You sure you want him to hurt you, Dorian?" It's asked with a purr, because she knows he will say yes. "Go ahead, Conmac."
"You sure you want him to hurt you, Dorian?" It's asked with a purr, because she knows he will say yes. "Go ahead, Conmac."
Once she's seated, he sets the mug down in front of her to take or not take, then settles down just out of reach nearby. On the floor. "He's okay. Sick a lot, but trying to force himself to move around. He'll probably come see you soon if he hasn't already."
He swallows, looks at the mug in his own hands, and says, "I'm sorry. I dragged you back here. After I got you killed."
He swallows, looks at the mug in his own hands, and says, "I'm sorry. I dragged you back here. After I got you killed."
She does take it, holding it in her hands to just enjoy the feel of something with a little weight to it.
Then he says that and she looks at him a moment, wounded. A moment longer as she reaches for understanding instead of betrayal or outrage.
He could have just taken Steve. He took them both.
"I was willing to die to stay free. But...I never should have asked you to just let me die. You've lost so much already. It was wrong of me to ask you to just give up on saving anyone."
Then he says that and she looks at him a moment, wounded. A moment longer as she reaches for understanding instead of betrayal or outrage.
He could have just taken Steve. He took them both.
"I was willing to die to stay free. But...I never should have asked you to just let me die. You've lost so much already. It was wrong of me to ask you to just give up on saving anyone."
As Dorian's hoisted and yanked every which way, Dorian strains against Sweeney. He's very much being a shit and being difficult for the sake of difficult, making it so that Sweeney actually has to work for it.
As such, when Annie says 'knees,' he absolutely doesn't kneel down. "I'm already about to spend," Dorian laughs. "Go ahead and push me to completion."
As such, when Annie says 'knees,' he absolutely doesn't kneel down. "I'm already about to spend," Dorian laughs. "Go ahead and push me to completion."
"Hm." The sound is short and dismissive. Sweeney's not here to get Dorian off.
He makes no effort to restrain his wolfish grin. Sweeney kicks harder at the back of his knees to get Dorian on them as he shoves him roughly into something closer to the right place. His hand slides down the rope. A quick loop, twist, and pull sees it fastened to the headboard. There’s enough slack that Dorian can rest his hands on the bed or brace against the rod; it doesn’t much matter to Sweeney.
The task completed, he slides off the bed and crosses to her, nuzzling his forehead to hers in a passing gesture.
With a flick of his wrist, he manifests a reed cane; thicker and firmer than a switch, but too thin and straight to be meant for walking. Without further warning, he cracks a strike across the back of Dorian’s thighs. While it’s not full force, he doesn’t hold back.
There’s a pause after, both to gauge Dorian’s response, and to see if Annie approves enough for him to be able to keep doing it.
He makes no effort to restrain his wolfish grin. Sweeney kicks harder at the back of his knees to get Dorian on them as he shoves him roughly into something closer to the right place. His hand slides down the rope. A quick loop, twist, and pull sees it fastened to the headboard. There’s enough slack that Dorian can rest his hands on the bed or brace against the rod; it doesn’t much matter to Sweeney.
The task completed, he slides off the bed and crosses to her, nuzzling his forehead to hers in a passing gesture.
With a flick of his wrist, he manifests a reed cane; thicker and firmer than a switch, but too thin and straight to be meant for walking. Without further warning, he cracks a strike across the back of Dorian’s thighs. While it’s not full force, he doesn’t hold back.
There’s a pause after, both to gauge Dorian’s response, and to see if Annie approves enough for him to be able to keep doing it.
The wounded expression is what he'd expected. Outrage is what he expected. Clearly she didn't know it was his fault, his choice, that brought her here. He's made his peace with Annie hating him, he just had to make sure he apologized, even if he's not really sure he regrets it.
He regrets that it had to happen. But Steve would been so broken if they left Annie's body behind, he thinks. He promised he'd never make Steve choose between them, and that includes making the choice for him.
So he shuts his eyes against it, ready for the yell, or the tears, or anything other than what he gets. He blinks them open again. "You. You had every right to want me to leave you there. I took away your choice again."
He regrets that it had to happen. But Steve would been so broken if they left Annie's body behind, he thinks. He promised he'd never make Steve choose between them, and that includes making the choice for him.
So he shuts his eyes against it, ready for the yell, or the tears, or anything other than what he gets. He blinks them open again. "You. You had every right to want me to leave you there. I took away your choice again."
"Why would you do that?" Because she knows why she shouldn't have asked, yes. But she did ask. And he clearly knew exactly why she had asked.
He tugs at one of the loose bits of his hair. Not all of it is quite long enough to stay reliably tied back. "At the time? Mostly panic. But there's. There's a lot of reasons behind that, I think. Some of it was for Steve. Leaving you behind but taking him would be. Making his choice for him, too. Between the two of us. And he'd be devastated if he lost you. I've made a lot of people dead, Annie. And they've left a lot of devastated people behind. Some of it was. I don't want to lose you. Even if I've been pretty sure what I did. Means I'd probably lose you, anyway. Some of it was."
He pauses, tugs again, harder, and finishes uncertainly, "You can't make choices when you're dead. You can't get out when you're dead. There's at least a chance, here. There's no chance, being a body sinking to the bottom of the ocean."
He pauses, tugs again, harder, and finishes uncertainly, "You can't make choices when you're dead. You can't get out when you're dead. There's at least a chance, here. There's no chance, being a body sinking to the bottom of the ocean."
"I understand," she blinks away tears, watching the ceiling. "I understand what you're saying, and why you did it, and maybe someday I'll be glad you did. I'm not angry." She would have thought she would be, but here they are, and she's just tired. So tired.
"But I'm going to need time to get there."
"But I'm going to need time to get there."
"Better not finish too fast, 'cause we're not stopping," she warns, and nods at Sweeney to continue.
Hitting, for her, has always been a negative, but she's holding out, watching.
Hitting, for her, has always been a negative, but she's holding out, watching.
"Whatever you need," he promises, subdued. "If you need me to keep my distance. I will. If you need me to hang around more, I will. Whatever makes it easier for you."
She isn't sure what she wants. It had all been so clear on her ship: what she had wanted was so close within reach that she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it.
She doesn't know here what she wants or even, really, who she is in this context. So she defaults to worrying about the group.
"I want us to still be friends. And I don't think avoiding each other will help. So we should keep doing things together." She looks at him finally. "I'm glad you saved Steve. I hope he wasn't mad that you did."
She doesn't know here what she wants or even, really, who she is in this context. So she defaults to worrying about the group.
"I want us to still be friends. And I don't think avoiding each other will help. So we should keep doing things together." She looks at him finally. "I'm glad you saved Steve. I hope he wasn't mad that you did."
"No. Not at me," he adds, to clarify. "I don't think he's. Happy about it." The whole graduation thing is not something he's going to tell for Steve, so he'll have to leave that side of things out. He's already spilled to one person, he's not going to do that again.
"But he's been. Really clear. That he's not mad at me for bringing him back," he finishes. "Or bringing you back." He's also not going to say Steve thought he did the right thing. He feels like that would be rubbing salt in Annie's wounds. But not being mad, that's safe enough. "I would've understood if he was. If you were."
"But he's been. Really clear. That he's not mad at me for bringing him back," he finishes. "Or bringing you back." He's also not going to say Steve thought he did the right thing. He feels like that would be rubbing salt in Annie's wounds. But not being mad, that's safe enough. "I would've understood if he was. If you were."
She's quiet a long time. "You remember those books you showed me?"
"Yeah, I do. I still have-- most of them, I think. The pirates couldn't get into my cabin, so. Most everything was untouched." He even spent a couple hours reading them, waiting for her and Steve to wake up, once he'd tidied up the place after the escape.
"Well some of 'em were made into cartoons. We should watch those sometime." It's about her speed right now: something nice, easy to follow, colorful.
That sounds like something relatively easy, yeah. "Sure. Any time you want." His fingers twitch a little, and he thinks about what he'd managed for Steve, and says, "Want me to. Um. Want me to braid your hair? I'm pretty sure I can."
Despite everything, she lights up at the offer. She almost asks if he's sure--she hasn't missed the tension in him, that's been there since prison--but she trusts he wouldn't have offered if he wasn't.
"I'll get a brush," she scampers up to the bathroom and returns with a hair tie as well.
"I'll get a brush," she scampers up to the bathroom and returns with a hair tie as well.
Oh, thank fuck.
Sweeney's been looking for her, but she's been tricky to find. He doesn't fault her; he can only imagine what she's trying to work through. Still, the sight of her on the deck is a blessing.
"Hey, Trouble." The flask she'd gifted him is already being pulled from his pocket as he closes the distance between them. He offers her the whiskey without looking down. But in the moment, he knows it isn't enough, probably for either of them.
Instead, he catches her and pulls her to him, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. What is there to say? Nothing will be enough to make it ok.
Sweeney's been looking for her, but she's been tricky to find. He doesn't fault her; he can only imagine what she's trying to work through. Still, the sight of her on the deck is a blessing.
"Hey, Trouble." The flask she'd gifted him is already being pulled from his pocket as he closes the distance between them. He offers her the whiskey without looking down. But in the moment, he knows it isn't enough, probably for either of them.
Instead, he catches her and pulls her to him, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. What is there to say? Nothing will be enough to make it ok.
She knew Godric was going. She is okay with it, with his reasons, with the flicker of hope that she'll see him again.
It's still unbelievably hard.
"I miss him."
It's still unbelievably hard.
"I miss him."
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