[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Comments

slams in here

[bossily]

[She's been guarding him ever since Kovacs told her what Kirigan had done. The thought of someone else trying to kill Newt fills her with dread. And so she sits by his bed, refusing to leave. She even sleeps in the chair at his bedside, which is exactly what she's doing when he wakes.

It's the rising sound of the heart meter that wakes her, and she gives a startled jump as she looks around. Her eyes fall on Newt, and she sees that he's awake. His words are heard but not necessarily processed, not until she's moving out of the chair and almost quite literally crawling into the bed with him to embrace him in the tightest hug she's ever given.

She's resting on her knees on the bed, her small frame easily able to tuck beside him. Curling over him protectively, she tries to will all of that doubt from his voice with the sheer force of her love and affection for him.]

Don't worry. [She's finally able to speak, voice heavy with emotion.] I'm never letting you out of my sight again.

[Which probably sounds more like a threat than a sweet promise. But he'll forgive her attempt at humor, since this is the first time she's genuinely laughed since returning to the station.]

[groupiedrifter]

[He should have seen it coming, right? That Clara would so easily accept him back, allow him to be cared about like this after everything that's happened. But his hands are the ones that hurt her, right? He'd broken her arm, he'd betrayed her and Peter, and he'd stabbed the Doctor, and he could've killed Kovacs and so many other people here she cares about. He still smells the smoke and blood.

Who is he to her, in the wake of all of that? Someone she loves? Why?

But he remembers the fragmented conversation on the earpiece. They still exist there, and he can look at them even now — glitching and difficult to read at first, but they're there, saddled up with Clara's kind words.

I don't want to add to your regrets
but just know that I forgive you
okay?
I will always love you too, Newton
Remember that no matter what happens, we're family.
until the end

The relief at being himself again is almost too much, but Clara's immediate acceptance is like glass in his heart, sudden where they wedge into arteries. His face is buried, and he couldn't remember the last time he was able to do this, to accept someone else coming along and touching him without feeling sick. They almost ruined this for me, he thinks, his arms curling around her.]

I can't — [He trembles.] They won't let me cry — I can't.

[But the proof of their absence is undeniable, when tears begin seeping into Clara's clothes. It's a familiar moment, one they had enacted months ago, when the precursors had left him seizing on the floor just before Christmas. At least now... there's some finality to it, and despite feeling like he's not allowed to, he sobs in relief and remorse into the smaller body cradling his.]

I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry —

[bossily]

Newt.

[She speaks his name softly, trying to soothe him. But after everything he's been through, it's understandable that it wouldn't. She holds him while he processes everything and starts to cry, not minding getting a bit damp from tears in the process.

But of course her empathy is on overdrive right now, and she's soon crying along with him. She can still remember the precursors commenting on her crying, and regrets that they let Newt's mouth be the voice that replays in her head to say those cruel things.

It wasn't him, she reminds herself. He doesn't feel that way.

They cling to one another and cry until Clara feels like he's ready to look her in the eye. It's only then that she pulls out of the hug, but makes sure not to move away.]

Newt, look at me. [She insists, both hands going to cup his cheeks so he'll look up at her.] You have nothing to apologize for. Do you understand me?

[groupiedrifter]

[Impossible to not do as Clara asks, and when she asks him to look at her, he summons up everything he's got within him to obey; it's at least not quite so horrific a task when she doesn't control his eyes as literally as they've been controlled these last two months. Two months. They were walking him around, making him say those awful things, hurting his friends—

He shakes his head urgently.]

I said — they said... I don't know. I know I didn't want to say any of it, but I have the memory of it. I remember all of it. I hurt you, and I hurt Peter, and — and Daisy, and Rosi, and Sam, and - and —

[Faces flash through his mind, all grief-stricken, or angry, or shocked, or twisted up in pain. AlinaRhysClarketheDoctorClara- He squeezes his eyes shut, gasping out words like a drowning man.]

People're dead because of me; I shot people, I shot people, and the kaiju — we killed people. Clara, I can't do this. I can't do this. What am I gonna do?

[bossily]

[She doesn't cut him off, doesn't try to get him to stop saying such things. He needs to say them, needs to get his emotions out in the open. so she listens to him, holding him as she does. She can't imagine how he must be feeling right now. But knows Newt well enough to know he's going to be suffering for quite some time because of what the precursors have done. It breaks her heart to know she can't spare him that pain. All she can do is be there to support him through it.]

You listen to me now. Listen, and do as you're told. You can do this. And you will. Because you and I, we're gonna figure this out together. And we don't have to figure out any of the answers right now.

[She pulls back enough to wipe at his tears, smiling warmly for him to try and see that she still cares for him so much. It's important that he knows he's loved, and not alone to deal with the fallout and aftermath of what the precursors have done.]

Do you really think that I care for you so little that any of this would make a difference?

[groupiedrifter]

[Her words seem to soothe him enough... Enough that he eases back, wet eyes watching Clara's.]

I care about you, too. So much. I...

[He lays against his pillow, his body feeling like it weighs a ton. Like all of this had been akin to a truck running him over, leaving him an exhausted mess. Maybe being infected by creatures — then being expunged of those creatures — had been a physical trial, one exacerbated by a man who hadn't moved his own body much for the last two months. Even so, his mind is a flurry of activity, and he grips her hands in his.

He looks haunted as memories flash through his mind.

Like watching a nightmare play out, one you can't move in.]

I tried to stop.

I saw you. They were gonna — they tried to stab you. I couldn't let them do that. I tried to hold on as long as I could, but I... I just wasn't strong enough.

[bossily]

Sorry?

[She gets a bit of a firm edge to her voice, as she shifts to give him more room. She doesn't stray far from his side, choosing to lay beside him. She rolls onto her side, facing him. There's a heated look on her face that has little to do with him, but rather the words he's just spoken.]

You were so, so strong. You stopped them.

[And nothing will ever convince her otherwise.

She reaches over, stroking his hair in slow and steady motions.]

You didn't let anything happen to me.

[groupiedrifter]

[He shakes his head against her, body bowing where he lay, attempting to curl in on himself — but Clara's form alongside him stops such a lonely metamorphosis. He won't be cocooned in self-isolation in this moment; she doesn't let him, and as her fingers trail along a stubbled, wet face, he sniffs and tries to compose himself in her company.

His hands reach for hers and cling. Real, warm hands. A physical person, someone he can decide to hold. It almost feels too good to be true, and maybe it is. Maybe this is a dying brain clinging to a beautiful illusion before death. After all, the precursors had promised to take him out with them. Many times.]

The Doctor saved you. He stopped them. Not me.

[But after a moment, his strained breaths relax.]

I... held them back.

[Is that a step in the right direction? A correction, a way for him to say he wasn't the hero in the story — but not without some modicum of credit for doing something, anything, to protect her. He closes his eyes, leans his forehead against hers, and tries to calm himself.]

... The Doctor came for me, in my mind. Both of them.

[He laughs, watery and rasped.]

In a little blue box.

[bossily]

You got to see the Tardis?

[Her hands squeeze his, gentle and reassuring. Leave it to the Doctors to save the day in just the right way. Without letting go of his hands, she scoots in just a bit. They've always been so tactile that it's natural to be close to him now. And she soaks up the fact that he isn't shying away from it.]

The Doctor makes everything better. Both of them do.

[But she knows that she had faith in them the entire time to get the job done. Out of everyone that had gathered, she was by far the most useless. The Doctors pulling him free is something she'll have to thank them for later.]

If they brought you into their snogbox, they must think you're a good man.

[Because as heroic as the Doctor can be, he doesn't always save the ones that don't deserve it.]

Just the same as I do. Do you have any idea how strong you are?

[groupiedrifter]

[He basks in the warmth of her figure like a lizard along a heated rock, the fast beating of his heart finally slowing. But then again, she was always good at calming him after a nightmare, wasn't she? Nightmares that had been their fault all along. All this time... all these awful feelings. The fear she'd felt of him before — all of it had come down to the snapping of bone in a dream-world neither were allowed to remember.

All that pain that hadn't been explained until now. It's staggering to look back.

He laughs, sniffling, at her description of the TARDIS, though his smile fades by the end of her gentle reply. Because of course it does. But he humors her, gives her a chance to convince him; a hefty task, for a man who still has the deaths of civilians burned behind his eyelids... who still has the smell of his friends' blood in his nostrils.]

... Strong how?

[He leans his forehead against her still, but his eyes are closed, lost to memories of the last two, four, six — eleven months. But especially that train; god, that train.]

I didn't notice them all that time... couldn't find a way to remember them after the dreams. Couldn't stop 'em from breaking your arm, or pushing away Hermann and Daisy... Couldn't finish them off in Sedorum, or warn anyone in Giva... I laid in the sunroom with you and couldn't say a word —

And the only reason we're all still here is because of people like Alina and Rhys on that train... or the Doctor in that holding room... or Sabriel and the others in my head. I didn't do any of that.

[bossily]

[She lets him have his outburst, lets him be angry if that's what he needs to be. There's not much she can say to convince him to not have that moment. And honestly, she needs to hear it as much as he does. She can't just say a few words and make this better for him. It's going to take time.]

You're still here, aren't you?

[And if she knows him as well as the thinks she does, she knows that he's going to kill himself to try and make it up to everyone. He'll do whatever it takes to make things better.

Her forehead nuzzles against his, bumping the tips of their noses together in the process.]

Strength shows itself in different ways. Sometimes it's quiet and afraid. But surviving is a strength.

[She sounds more and more doubtful and quiet as she speaks, until she's left trailing off and sounding a bit hopeless. It's hard to tell if he's angry at her, or simply angry at himself and what's happened. She thinks that maybe it would be easier if she were cross with him. If she blamed him for her broken arm, blamed him for her not being able to remember how it happened until recently.

But no matter how she tries, she can't find blame to put on him. Not when she knows he'll be blaming and loathing himself for as long as he remembers what happened on that train.

She recalls the things the precursors had said to her before going for her throat. About her crying, about her clinginess. A bit of doubt starts to creep in, wondering how much of that was their words and how much was possibly coming from Newt's own mind.

She bites at her lip and shakes her head. But she doesn't pull away.]

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt knows, deep down, that she’s right about the definition of strong. Because there were people in his world that had fit that description perfectly, hadn’t they? Quietly surviving while the most frightening possible future loomed on the horizon… keeping the faith that things would be okay. People who are sick… People who’ve lost their loved ones. Crewmates here who can instill such comfort simply by giving to one another.

Newt knows what real strength can be.

But is that him?

That part, he is as lost as ever about.

The precursors did not fade away without taking little pieces out of him. But… At least for now, there’s one thing he can say with certainty, and it’s said as he buries his face against her — ]

Please… stay with me.

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

[Not like he’s been for two long months.

Not right now. ]

[bossily]

[She makes a soothing sound, much like she would for a small child that's frightened and needs comforting. Newt is strong, but he's been fractured during all of this. She'll do whatever it takes to try and make him feel safe once again.

Her fingers run through his hair, her palm pressing against the back of his head. And they lay like that for quite some time before Clara finally whispers a response back to him.]

I'm not going anywhere. Not until you say you'd like some space.

[And when that happens, she'll be sure to give it to him. But for now, she'll stay. He doesn't need to be alone. And she isn't sure she has the heart to leave him alone with his thoughts.

Clara isn't an amazing singer. But she still takes one of his songs that she's heard him playing in the labs on more than one occasion. And she softly sings it to him, sure that she's messing up words and notes. But none of that really matters. The effort behind the gesture is meant to soothe and get him to relax. Maybe he'll be lucky and drift off into a peaceful sleep.]

[groupiedrifter]

[Newton's hardly much of a singer himself. He never gave a shit about that kind of thing — no matter how you sound, you sing it loud, you sing it proud, and that's all there was to it. But right now, Clara's voice is one of the sweetest sounds he's heard. Sweeter than the awful voices that had trickled into his mind the last year. Sweeter than his own voice, chastising him for being pathetic — blaming him for everything that's happened.

It's just like before. Just like the first time she'd wrapped herself around him in a hospital bed. He feels, at least in this rare moment, safe... like he's not about to fall apart, topple like the tower of babel.

It's a nice song, one much better than a swan's.]