exsilium | 2nd. ( video. )

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2nd. ( video. )

( The problem here was, so far as Ellie could see it, was that there were people. Too many people, a claustrophobic press of Transports jammed in so that she felt like she suddenly had some idea what it was like for cattle to be run through the crush. Whether or not they were all destined for an abattoir was another matter entirely.
Not just that, but they weren't the right people. Some of them seemed decent enough, but they weren't her human safety blanket or the guy that kept them all going, or the one that she could always feel superior to. (To be honest, it was a relief none of them were Lee.)

This might be why she is addressing the network from one of the bombed out buildings rather than her place, which she hasnt visited for a few days. Ellie's just surrounded by debris, dirt and water damaged walls, though some of the prior are concealed by some pretty massive piles of paper. She's propping herself up on her elbows, not looking right at the device. )

I was wondering what there is around here in the way of record keeping. I mean, these things have got a lot on them, but something other than that. Pens, paper - the tangible stuff. In case the network fails, or something.

There's probably already something, but I haven't had time to figure all that out yet. And maybe if there isn't, we should make one. Record the people who have been here, what they know, experiences and stuff. Not just stuff that happens here, but before. Or, um, elsewhere, I guess. Wherever home is.

( Despite this being a video broadcast, and deliberately so, she has to yet glanced at the camera. She does now, very briefly, but there is a definite guilty expression to it. Ellie opens her mouth again, but thinks better of it. )

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Nah. You'll think you're over it, and then I'll yell at some poor moron for being a useless idiot and you'll swoon.

( propping herself up on her elbows, she watches Steph for a few moments. )

How have you been lately, anyway?

I don't swoon, thank you very much.

[She can't help rolling her eyes, but she also can't hide her smile.

At the question, she lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug.]

Coping. [She doesn't want to say 'fine' because she's not, and even if she hadn't promised to be honest, she'd want to tell the truth anyway, instead of pretending.] I've been a little homesick, but I'll deal.

[It's not the longest she's been away from her friends and family, but the fact she can't</> go home just makes it so much harder.]

All blondes swoon. I saw it in the movies.

( As Steph speaks, Ellie stays quite still, just listening. Her gaze isn't trained on Steph, but she's chewing her lip, nodding a bit at her words. )

It's scary, isn't it? It's so huge. I don't know if I've really processed that I can't got home yet. It doesn't seem like it could be real.

You're in idiot.

[But she saws it fondly, and she'll leave the argument there in favour of the more serious topic of conversation.]

Yeah, it is. [Steph doesn't often admit to being scared, but she'll give Ellie that bit of honesty] All this stuff, time travel and alternate Earths, it doesn't happen to me. And I keep - I dunno, I keep waiting for someone to come get me out of here, but I don't think it's gonna happen.

[If Superman went missing, the Justice League would come find him. Batman would work out his own way home. Steph is just... stuck, and she can't keep waiting for Babs or Bruce to come get her out of this mess.]

Mmhmm.

( 'Scared' is like a forbidden bit of vocabulary among them, but it slips out before she can think of it. Maybe because she doesn't need to maintain the same position here that she has with the others.

When Steph says she's waiting for someone to get her, there's a spark of jealousy. Not of Steph having people to get her, but of her leaving, a brief panic that grips her right in the gut. She looks away, studying the ceiling, but gently grabs Steph's wrist. )

If they can get to you, they will. I mean, we can't just around rotting and waiting, but don't think they abandoned you r something.

[Her gaze is drawn to where Ellie is holding her wrist, and she pulls away briefly, but only to take her hand properly instead. It's a simple comfort, one that she's more used to than things like hugs, and it puts her in mind of her friends back in school, the easy little bits of affection they'd give her, when they knew she didn't like anything restricting.

She misses Bailey all of a sudden, which is ridiculous when Steph hasn't even seen her for months, so she pushes the thought aside.]

I know, it's just-- [It's just what? She pauses, and when she speaks again it's a quiet admission:] I miss my mom.

( Her fingers curl when Steph pulls away from her hand, briefly feeling stupid before she takes her hand instead. She relaxes again, thumb absently circling over Steph's skin. ) Me too.

( This doesn't get easier. ) Tell me about her.

[For a little while, Steph's silent, trying to work out what to say, how much she wants to tell Ellie about her mom. Should she focus on the good parts, or should she tell her everything, like Elli said was so important. It's the memory of that brief exchange of harsh words that helps her decide on the latter.

When she speaks, her voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard, and she looks down at their entwined fingers instead of at Ellie.]

My dad used to be alright, you know? He had a steady job and he was an okay husband, if not really nice, but then he lost his job and he couldn't deal with it like a normal person, so he started stealing shit. He just got more and more unstable and violent, and mom just... she couldn't cope. So she started taking pills. I don't remember how it started, if she really was in pain and got addicted, or if she just found an easy way out, but she'd get a doctor to write a prescription for the strongest painkiller she could get, and whenever she wasn't at work, she'd check out. [There's something bitter in her voice as she explains that, the anger of a little girl who watched her mother do nothing as her father abused her.]

Even when dad tried to straighten up his act, even if he tried to get her clean, it never worked, and she just got worse and worse. It wasn't until I took up the whole vigilante gig and finally put dad away for good that she managed to kick the habit.

[She sighs, a heavy sort of thing, and curls up against Ellie a little.] She always knew what I was doing, but she never really supported it. I can't blame her, I mean, she'd seen what a costume had done to dad, she knew what it was like out there, and I was her little girl. She'd finally managed to be a part of her daughter's life, so she was scared she'd lose me again, but I couldn't stop, and I think she just resigned herself to it.

[There's another pause, as she realizes how much she's said already, and isn't sure if she should keep saying more. It's a long story and she doesn't want to get into too many details.]

Things haven't ever been easy, but... she loves me. And before I came here, she found out that I'd started the whole vigilante thing again, after I promised I'd stop. I thought she'd be so angry, but she just said she was proud of me. [Now she has to stop, because her voice is a little tight and she takes a second to blink away the tears that are threatening.]

I'm sorry.

( it doesn't change anything. Doesn't soothe that pain away, makes its causes less real, ease them away. Steph had said it was rough, but it's still so hard to imagine anything other than a loving, stable family life. Things got bad when families were torn apart, not before. It was wrong. People's stories started with their parents, conceptions and right before that; Steph's stories were all roughness and loss. Her fingers squeeze a little tighter.

She lets the silence drag out, idly tugging at Steph to see if she'll come and lie down, see if she can offer her the same comfort she's given Ellie.)

I'd be proud of you, too, getting through all that and coming out the other side. We've seen a lot of what desperation and disaster can do to people, you know? She was lucky she had you.

( She chews her lip, debating telling Steph about Chris. He'd hunted for comfort in all manner of chemicals, as well.)

[It doesn't change anything, but hearing it does help a little, like a reassurance that it's okay to have been hurt by it. So when Ellie tugs, Steph moves without hesitation, getting comfortabe beside Ellie, not letting go of her hand.]

Thank you. [It sounds a little lost; she's never sure what to do with statements like that, when people admire her or tell her they're proud of her. She's too used to hearing the opposite.] Sometimes I worry that she stayed for me. That she could've left him if she hadn't gotten pregnant, but I dunno.

[Maybe she would have stayed anyway. As much as the thought hurts, Steph knows her mom can be weak sometimes.]

You can't blame yourself for any decision she made. You were a kid. ( A soft sigh, wrapping an arm around Steph's shoulders.) It feels like we should still be kids, sometimes.

( Hardly seems like the sort of thing she'd admit usually, but it's safe here, no need to assert some battle for dominance.)

You can't ever know someone completely. I mean, there'll always be some mystery, something that'll bewilder and fascinate and infuriate you. Don't feel guilty for something out of your hands. We have enough we torment ourselves with already.

I was never a kid. [Another quiet admission, as she curls the fingers of her free hand into the fabric of the hoodie near Ellie's hip. For as long as she can remember she had to look after herself, had to be the responsible one, and there are so many ways in which she grew up too quickly.]

Yeah. [It's an agreement, but she mostly just sounds tired.] I know I should focus on the good things. I mean, she got clean for me, she's taken care of me, she put up with my whining for months when my leg got broken. [That's said with a bit of self-deprecating humour, a poor attempt at trying to lighten the mood.] Maybe I shouldn't judge her too harshly.

It's hard. ( She strokes her hair idly, only speaks loud enough to be heard.) It's not like when grown ups get worn out, either, decide to take a week or two of holiday. I mean, I wish it were that simple and you could just take a bit of time and get to be a kid. And maybe you can unwind and have fun, but it doesn't change all the stuff that you had to do and the things you didn't get to do.

( Ellie had it easy for so long. She knows that now, even if she'd have her fits about how unfair this or that was, in the past. )

Chris, he tried to make himself feel better with all kinds of things. I still get angry with him. Getting angry with him just made it worse.

[Steph still isn't quite used to how easy Ellie is with physical affection. Cass had been, but with Cass off in Hong Kong, she'd gotten used to occasional hugs from her mom and Kara, nothing like this, but for all that it feels a little weird, she relaxes into it.]

I think it's why I acted out so much when I was a teenager, before I started the whole vigilante thing. I guess I wanted to stop thinking about all that shit for a while and just do what everyone else was doing.

[She's fairly good at being honest with herself, even if she isn't particularly inclined towards self-analysis, but this is the first time she's really put much thought into it.]

I'm sorry about your friend. [And she is, even if it doesn't change anything. At least Steph can understand better than most people.] Sometimes I hated my mom.

[That's said so quietly, something like shame in her voice. She's never admitted that before.]

( It'd be different with boys. Ever since Adam it had been different with boys, the shame that sunk into herself and made her withdraw from most physical contact. Corrie was the person she'd always been cuddliest with, and after Corrie had gone, there was Fi. But Fi and Corrie weren't here, and maybe Ellie was just indulging her own need for comfort as much as trying to make it better for Steph. Sometimes it still feels painfully awkward.

She's about to say something about Chris when Steph makes that quiet admission. Her chest tightens, as her mind tugs at tangles of guilt that trip her up more often than she'd ever cares to admit, things she shoves down and ignores when they're on the move, but sneak up and pester her whenever there's a quiet moment. ) When I was little I told my dad I hated him because he wouldn't let me go camping with some of the buys. I thought I hated him when he yelled at me for this or that. When my mum didn't let me go to a school social because there was some family thing we were going to my gran's place for the next day. I said a lot of stupid things.

( All things she'd take back in a heartbeat, if she could. At least one of her parents could be dead before she got a chance to see them again, if the rumours she heard about her dad being a troublemaker at the Showground were true. ) Apparently thinking too much isn't good, but letting your feelings jerk you around isn't right, either.

( She's not sure where she's going with that, just mumbles it a bit, frowning critically at the ceiling as if it had a lot to answer for. ) You can apologise for it when you see her. When you get home.

( When, not if. )

[It feels like there's an empty space in her life, where things like Ellie's experiences should go, things she has no frame of reference for. She doesn't understand what it's like to argue with her parents about camping trips or dances, to tell them she hates them over petty things. She hates her dad for how he treated her, and sometimes she'd hate her mom for letting all that happen, but it's not the same.]

I don't know what that's like. [Sometimes honesty is the hardest thing to do, right now it feels like digging fingers into an open wound, and her hand tightens, knuckles turning white where she's gripping onto the hoodie.

But the idea of apologizing hurts even more, because it would mean admitting to it in the first place, so she just shakes her head a little, hiding herself against Ellie.]

Don't know what it's like to say stupid things? You're lucky.

( Maybe trying to pick up her mood isn't the right thing - trivialising, or something else awful. That little effort at a smile falls away, and she squeezes Steph closer, mumbling things that don't really have any significance - it'll be okay - things that are probably meaningless but that she wishes could make things better.

If she can just keep holding onto her, be a constant, maybe that can help make things better. Just for a few moments, having something warm and solid and present to hold onto. )

[There's a snarky reply somewhere in her head, maybe something a little self-deprecating, going along with Ellie's attempt at lightening the mood, but all that comes out is:]

Being normal.

[With Ellie holding her, it's not hard to remember how this conversation started, with Steph's reassurance about everything balancing in out in the end.]

Told you you'd help me, too.

[It's mumbled against Ellie's skin, and it's true, she knows that for all talking about it sometimes make things hurt so much more, if she'd been trying to think about all this alone she'd have fallen apart by now. Clinging to Ellie is keeping her together, and she's more grateful for it than she can put into words.]

'Normal' isn't even a thing. ( Automatically babbling out something from when things were normal back home, all those talks about not bullying and being inclusive and uniqueness. ) Besides, if we were normal teenagers, we wouldn't be Steph and Ellie. I kind of like being Steph and Ellie, even with all the bad stuff. It'd be great if nothing bad had ever happened to either of us, but this is the hand we were dealt, and I reckon we're making the best of it.

( She'd be lying if she said that it didn't make her feel good, actually being helpful. Being there for someone, being relied on. These days, she felt like Fi didn't even rely on her any more. Fi kept being too surprising and capable. Steph was already all of those things, but any time Ellie could be helpful it was surprising in its own way. It felt good, being useful. )

Tomorrow we're going to do something fun. ( No matter how much she likes feeling useful, she hates how sad Steph sounds. Even more so, because she was the one that started asking about her mother. ) Milkshakes, okay? Tomorrow we're getting milkshakes.

[Maybe it's just automatic babble, but it manages to strike a chord with Steph, enough that it helps ease some of the tightness in her chest. Sometimes she wonders what she'd do, if someone gave her the chance to have a normal family, a normal life away from criminals and addicts and supervillains. She's never sure how she'd answer, because part of her does want to get away from it all, but the rest of her likes how her life is, even with all the bad stuff.]

I like being Steph and Ellie, too. [It feels a bit dorky to say, but she likes the way their names sound together, a reminder that she's got a friend, someone she can rely on, and she wants Ellie to know that she agrees with everything that's been said.]

Do you think they have waffles here? [They're not her favourite comfort food, but they remind of the good things about her mom, and she could use that.] Milkshakes and waffles should go together.

Hmm? Dunno. I saw a cafe, the other day. Giant, freakishly tall blond guy was there. I didn't even know they made people that tall.
( Anyway. ) If they have them, they're probably there. ( Although, she laughs a little, scratching the side of her neck. ) I've never actually had waffles. I don't know if that kind of thing had even gotten to any of the cafe menus in Wirrawee - it's a really small town. They always looked nice on tv.

( So country, Ellie. So country. )

My mom makes them for me. [She's not sure when little things started meaning so much, when sharing tiny pieces of her life feels like opening herself up and leaving herself vulnerable. It's probably the city, she thinks, because she's always been private, but she's never guarded her stories quite so desperately until now.

She probably wouldn't have even realized if Ellie hadn't gotten under her skin and made Steph want to share.]

If we can't find any, I'll try to make you some. Might not be the same without a proper waffle iron, but I'm sure I can work something out.

We'll find waffles. ( She laughs a little, wrinkling her nose at the thought. ) My mum's pretty intimidating in the kitchen. Not, like, scary, but I was always scared to make anything more complicated than scrambled eggs because she was so good. There was a special place in the kitchen for her prizes. ( That isn't sarcasm, she really did win prizes. ) Best Sponge Cake, and all that.

( She can't remember the last time anyone cooked something special for her - it makes her feel disproportionately pleased. ) Maybe I can weld a waffle iron. ( . . . ) Maybe I can learn how to weld.

That sounds pretty impressive. [She sounds a little wistful, because it's just another 'normal' thing that Steph has no frame of reference for, but there's no jealousy or bitterness in her tone. She's glad Ellie got to have good parents who did things like won cooking prizes.]

Maybe you can. We'd be the only people in the city with a waffle iron, we could set up a little business to make some cash on the side.

[And there's something a little lighter, some of the melancholy finally draining away, and she loosens her grip a little on Ellie, though doesn't let go completely, or move away.]

Yeah. I feel stupid for never asking her to teach me things, now, though. ( Her smile wavers. ) You just always think you'll have more time.

( But she was trying to keep things upbeat, wasn't she? That sort of thing was bizarrely draining. ) It could be time that you switch identities again. Waffle Girl. You can talk the bad guys to death and then celebrate with waffles. It works on so many levels.

( Whatever, she is just going to enjoy these cuddles as much as possible while they last. )

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TW: drug use, child abuse

TW: drug use, child abuse

TW: drug use, child abuse

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