ataraxionlogs | If strength is born form heartbreak [Open]

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If strength is born form heartbreak [Open]

CHARACTERS: Alex Summers [CR AU] and You!
LOCATION: Nightclub & his room
WARNINGS: ...who the fuck knows. He's not in the best shape, so might make bad decisions.
SUMMARY: Alex is taking the loss of his Homestuck peeps and Charles hard. Which means drinking must be done.
NOTES: I'm going to write out two prompts--one for those who are going to the club, and one for those who want to hit him up in his room. Just put which one you're going for in the comment.

Action or prose is fine.

Night Club

Alex just wanted to get drunk. He wanted to get drunk and make horrible decisions. Just things that allowed him to forget that with Charles gone, with Dave and the others gone...he again was losing most of the people he was close to. It was only a matter of time before the rest went. But really, he shouldn't have been surprised. It was what had happened in Promenade, too. It was a fact of his life. People moved in, and moved out, always transient, as he stayed still. No amount of grabbing would keep them bound...so he needed to accept that. To shut himself down, or not get so upset over the situation.

Neither was easy for Alex, and he wasn't sure which was the correct path.

So instead, yes, he chose to drink (more), to make easy, stupid decisions for now, to push away the harder ones.

Sitting at the bar in the night club he swore he'd never visit, he let the darkness and music envelope him, sipping on some strong, unknown alcohol. He had put on his tightest jeans, a wife-beater, his leather jacket, and all the attitude he could muster. Eames had once said he seemed like a walking James Dean archetype. Well, might as well continue the trend.

Downing his drink, he raised a finger, wordless asking for another, both hoping and dreading that people would show up.

--

Room

He has no idea what time it is. It doesn't really matter, does it? Alex is in that strange stupor between sober and drunk, currently staring at the new puppy playing with Bozo at his feet. After Charles left he had decided to take in Anya. The pup got along well enough with his cat...and besides, he wanted a part of those he lost. He had Dave's glasses...now he had this puppy.

It worked.

Johnny Cash was blaring from his record player, entirely too loud, probably, but he didn't care. He just wanted to drown out any thoughts he might have. Instead, he just focused on the animals, who had no idea that anything was wrong.

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Murphy Pendleton was no stranger to loss. When he heard that some people go missing on the ship -- well, that just seemed like life. If everyone came here because they just did, then it didn't seem too out there to think that they could be taken back the same way, right?

But who was to say that they were gone?

Rather than boil in his own paranoia, Murphy took comfort in the fact that there was at least something he could do in this type of situation. When there wasn't any way to track down the missing, he might as well join the company of someone who was still around. Someone who seemed like they could use it. It was the least he could do.

Night clubs weren't his scene, though, so Murphy wasn't always eager to explore these parts of the ship. Unlike the last time he'd stumbled into this place, though, it wasn't teeming with nearly as much life and festivities.

If nothing else, it was the exact opposite.

Catching sight of the lonely figure at the bar, Murphy strode over and occupied the empty space next to him.

"Hey." Just a single word, and a nod, as he helped himself to a bottle of whiskey over the counter. Murphy wasn't as keen to join Alex for a drink the last time he stopped by. This time, it was justified.

"Help yourself..." Alex snorted, his voice devoid if it's normal cockiness. There was a hollowness, there, covering up anger just bubbling up under the surface. He couldn't deny that if anyone was going to show up, it helped that it was Murphy.

Guy kinda got how he was, without really needing to be told. Sure, he was older--but they had enough things in common that it didn't really matter.

Taking another slow drink out of his glass, he looked over at the older man, finally, giving a tight smile. "Welcome to the party."

The party of two, now.

Good thing this was more of Murphy's kind of party. He wasn't used to large crowds, and the kinds he was used to tended to be chaotic. He could appreciate the few good company over the alternative any day.

At first, Murphy just tipped a shotglass at Alex, before the bottle began to fill it up. Straight, hard liquor was more of his poison. It always tasted like shit, but he'd a bad track record with mixed drinks. He swore to himself one time that he'd never trust them again (especially while in the presence of a night club, empty as it might be).

"How're you holdin' up?"

Murphy wasn't completely clueless. Enough had been going on that he had a pretty good feeling that Alex had a pretty good reason for his current disposition. It was enough to make Murphy morose all over again.

"Mmm...ask me in another three shots." Alex moved to pour himself a bit more unknown liquor, chewing on the inside of his cheek absently as the silence filled the area (well 'silence' as much as you could get in a nightclub) between them. If it had been anyone else who had shown up, Alex could probably fake some enthusiasm easily, pretended he was just fine, that he was looking just to get drunk and have a good time.

But Murphy had pegged it already, and really, there wasn't any point in lying about it, then. Another few moments past, and he spoke, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. "I should be used to it now. People leaving."

Getting drunk, Murphy expected. But the air was too heavy to drink and be merry, that much he knew. Still, he wasn't eager to make that even worse, so he kept his mouth shut until Alex spoke up again.

When he did, Murphy glanced over, catching him out the corner of his eye. He then drank half a straight shot -- like he needed inspiration for a proper response...

"I just think 'bout how it's no different than what I'm already used to. People leave all the time, no matter what kinda reality you're stuck in." It wasn't the same, he knew. People leaving on their own volition was different than just up and vanishing like they did here. Or, in Annie Cresta's case--

No. Murphy shook his head, more to himself than anything else. Because he wasn't going to go back to thinking about that again.

"Exactly." Alex snorted. It sounded like he was a right alcoholic, the way he was talking about drinking--but with his powers, he had to imbibe a lot more booze to get any sort of drunk. Which he was going to do, damn it.

"Doesn't matter if they want to, or not." He shrugged, taking another drink, staring at a wall blankly. "Sometimes I wonder if it had been better if I had never taken up my mentors on their offer, you know?" He looked over at Murphy for a moment, before looking away again. "If I had just stayed in solitary for the next fifteen years."

Murphy didn't consider himself to be much of a lightweight, but he wasn't an inexperienced drinker, either. There was once a time when "self-medication" seemed to be the only answer, and Murphy drank. A lot. Drinking himself to the floor had been the one thing keeping him from doing something infinitely stupid.

Turned out, it was just delaying the inevitable.

Fingers touching the brim of the glass, Murphy listened idly while Alex talked. The response he could muster at first was shaking his head.

But that didn't do. Until words finally came out: "Trust me, it wouldn't..." He was very adamant, the more he thought about it. "Pretty sure it was years for me, but five, ten, fifteen... Doesn't matter, I felt like I was losin' my mind. Sometimes I still can't..." How to explain it? Years of isolation and resentment -- these weren't really things that could be easily described in words. So far, the most solid conclusion Murphy could come up with: "It's not better."

"Well it's still something." Alex shrugged, tightening his hand on his glass before he poured himself another shot, shaking his head. "I just--can't hurt people if I'm trapped up in a place by myself. Yeah I might go insane...but ain't got no body to lose, then. Can't do anything to hurt anyone, then."

He hadn't wanted his mind to go to dark places. He wanted to drink, to try and pretend to have a good time--to find a way to just sort it out by not sorting it out at all.

But with Murphy...guy kinda got into the heart of it. Which maybe he needed, but didn't necessarily want.

"No, that's bullshit." Whoa there, Murphy. Tell him how you really feel. "What you just described isn't really a life. You might as well just have somebody put a bullet in your head."

Okay, Murphy really wasn't that great at this whole consolation thing. Never was. Even after he downed the rest of his shot, poured himself another glass, he couldn't think up the inspiration to be any more motivated.

Maybe he was just feeling the pangs of his own guilt and grief. The fact that people died because of him and the choices he'd made. It wasn't an easy thing to live with. At least he was still living.

"Sometimes, you're gonna lose. It's a shit deal but that's how the wheel turns. Sorry."

"Yeah, well why don't you go find a fucking gun, asshole." Alex slammed his glass down, staring at Murphy hard. He probably shouldn't have said it, as he didn't really have a death wish--but it was a fucking life. A shit one, but it was one he could have chosen, if he hadn't chosen to try and help people. Who he never ended up being able to help completely.

Alex sighed and poured himself another shot, shaking his head. "Yeah well it ain't a fucking wheel when the lost list is longer than the gained or kept. That's one really out of balance scale."

Murphy snorted, but there was an utter lack of mirth there. All things considered, he seriously wasn't going to dignify that quip with a response. Not after everything he'd already done.

Might as well have pulled the fucking trigger.

Nope. Only straight whiskey now.

"Take it from a guy who's already lost everything -- that's life. Sometimes you're gonna hit rock bottom, but you climb your way back up, or you fall flat on your ass. Your choice."

Edited 2012-09-20 05:09 (UTC)

"Look, I know, okay? I don't need this damn speech. I keep losing everything, and I keep picking myself up. At some point you just get tired of doing the same ole dance to it. Don't jive anymore." He shook his head, his voice more quiet, now. Alex wanted to ask Murphy, to try and make the guy spill his guts, but he still had self control now.

For now.

"Well, what d'you want me to say? 'Hey, y'know, you're absolutely right! Everything sucks, feel free to proceed to the nearest airlock and evacuate.'" Murphy winced a little at his own poor choice of words. He finished another shot. By the time he slammed the glass down, his face felt so hot that he didn't care what he said anymore. "Fuck that. Someone who I considered a friend killed herself recently. I think I know a thing or two about gettin' tired of the same song and dance. You either deal with it or you don't. Honestly, I'm sick of seein' people off themselves around me, but if that's the way they wanna do it, who am I to tell 'em? Just... fuck."

Despite the fact that Murphy hadn't been present when Annie had thrown herself out of the airlock, the trail he followed detailed a clear outcome. Between her absence, the gifts she had left, and what Murphy had found -- he wasn't stupid. He knew how these stories ended. He could put two and two together on his own without skipping to the final chapter for the Big Reveal.

The sad thing was, it hadn't been the first time Murphy had known someone who thought that ending it all was the only option left. And it pissed him off. Not just because they did it, but because Murphy himself couldn't have said anything to give them a reason to keep on going. Why should he? What right did he have?

He was tired of it all, too. Some days, he woke up feeling like that would've been the better choice as well. So not only would he have been lying to them, he also would've been a goddamn hypocrite.

"Well number one, I'm not going to fucking kill myself." Alex watched Murphy with hard blue eyes, not allowing himself to back down, just because of the story that the older man had told him. "Life can fucking suck, but checking out? Isn't my idea of a solution. I'm sorry you had a friend who thought it was--because it isn't. Doesn't mean that I can't get fucking sick of every damn thing I have to go through."

He took another drink, before letting out a breath, hands running through his hair. "It's just--"

He shook his head, staring into his glass, some of the fight sliding out of him. "I just get tired. I'm always the one left. Everyone fucking leaves. I got ripped out of one damn place that wasn't home, and instead of returning to home, like everyone else I was with, I got sent here. I made my peace that I ain't ever going home--that if I get shipped out of here, it will be to another weird place. Just cause I made my peace with it, doesn't mean it doesn't fucking make me...whatever."

Makes him sad, that was what it did. But there ain't no going back. There was only forward.

Murphy wasn't too concerned with Alex about that sort of thing as much as he was with most people, like Annie. But not everybody was equipped to handle these conditions. Hell, Murphy wondered himself if he even was, despite spending years not ever seeing the sun, used to being alone.

Sad to think that Murphy could feel no enthusiasm on the prospect of returning back to where they came from. In fact, the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"I heard that wherever this thing goes, it's supposed to take us home. I've also heard other things, of course, but... I don't think it's gonna be like this forever."

What it's going to be like, that much Murphy couldn't promise with any certainty. For that, he poured another glass, filling it to the brim, as if somewhere in this clear fluid he would find the answer -- or just relief.

"Anyway, my point is--" Here's to hoping that he had one. "--I'm pretty sure we're all gonna get shipped off to some weird place, one way or another. You're right, it sucks. Bein' the only one left sucks. But it'll be that way whether we go home or get stuck somewhere else."

He... really wasn't good at this consolation thing, was he? Bah...

"Well..." Alex shook his head. "It won't be taking me home. You don't--" He sighed. Murphy didn't understand; it was his nature, something inside of him...if a version of him could traverse different universes, then why couldn't he, as well? He felt that was what was happening, now. It probably wouldn't change any time soon.

He took another drink. "Nothing ever stays the same--but it does, at the same time. Can't change human nature." Alex snorted, looking over at Murphy. "So basically you're saying it sucks no matter what, so you just got to give in?"

"Yeah, and no."

Christ, how was someone supposed to say this without coming off like a complete jackass? Pep talks and comfort was just not his thing. Hell, words in general was always the complete opposite of Murphy's forte.

"Sometimes, shit happens and you've got no control over 'em. It's always gonna happen. Whether you're gonna just give in or not... Well, that's your prerogative, not mine. No use in cryin' about how unfair it all is, right?" Murphy himself was used to giving in rather than fighting the inevitable that was always sure to come.

Despite not even being there, he could practically feel Anne glaring at him for saying (and thinking) shit like that.

Alex shook his head, giving a tight smile to Murphy. "All I've ever done is fight. Sometimes I wonder if I've been going about it all wrong, you know? That maybe I should stop fighting and just let it win. Cause fighting hadn't really proven to work so far."

He shook his head. "Look...I appreciate it. At least you're honest. Some fuckers around here want to shoot sunshine up my ass."

"You could. Stop fightin', I mean. But that way's just gonna leave you back where you've started." He scoffed, half to himself, and half to Alex's appreciation. "Lucky for you, I'm not much of a sunshine kinda guy."

It was ironic and a little fitting as well, all things considered. Murphy never got to see much of the sun before his prison transfer. And, all the way out here, things weren't much different. He had no reason to think with optimistic wonders.

"Yeah--and I kinda don't like going in circles if I can avoid it." Always forward, never back. Only way to get through life, these days for him. HE snorted. "Good. Wouldn't know what to do with you if you were."

"No one ever does." Murphy sure as hell didn't. Breaking that cycle had to have been the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he did it. Or, rather, he'd like to think that he had. Better than saying he never accomplished anything at all.

He half-snorted.

"Shit, don't think I'd know what to do with myself if that were the case."

Alex doesn't frequent the bars around here often, if only because the first time he had, he ended up with a pulsing hangover and a slew of dark truths spilled to a (sorta) stranger. Besides, he's a hideous lightweight. At the same time, he's had some tougher days; tough enough that he'll get one, maybe two, drinks. Nothing fancy, but enough to feel 'better'. So when he walks in and sits down next to a young man who's already going at it, he's fine with having a beer tonight.

But as he's about to sip his, he notices something about the guy that he'd recognize anywhere—he's in a lot of pain. Alex has seen the look on others. And he's known the look to be on himself. So with a moment of hesitation (just a moment, fleeting, 'eh, fuck it') he speaks up, "What happened?"

Not are you okay, did something happen, because that's all stupid. It's obvious he's not okay, and it's obvious something happened. Alex has been getting used to trying to lend helping hands, what with how often people around here helped him. This guy's no different for him.

Sure, he could work on talking his way into the heart of the matter, but he's learned his bluntness there from his father. Not much of a surprise.

"What business is it of yours?" Alex shot back the answer immediately, quickly, not even bothering to look at the person who had asked as he threw back a shot. Was it really that fucking obvious? But if Alex was honest with himself, yeah, it probably was.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his blond hair, always a mess of spikes, before finally looking over at the man who had spoken, giving a bit of a shrug. "Just trying to toast some people I lost recently." The answer was without his normal bravado and snark. He was simply too tired, too worn down to muster much of it, right now.

Hey, he gets the anger. He really does. He's had these exact moments—not as often lately, but before he'd temporarily lost his mind, before he'd gotten the taste of normalcy washed outta' his mouth. After a beat he reaches over with his drink and taps it against the other's glass. His stare is negated to the direct front of him. "I'll toast to that, then... Lost someone, too. Not on the jump, but... it's still tearing me up."

He looks back over.

"I'm sorry. It's a kick in the ass, how this place goes."

"...not on the jump then where?" Alex threw the words out, not really expecting the other man to reply. He didn't need people trying to give generalities, the 'oh I lost someone once, at some point', without specifics. Because everyone has lost someone, at one point in time. But it was his own history that made it so damn hard to swallow. So yeah, he wasn't interested in the weak tries for solidarity--not without details; those that people didn't usually give.

Looking over at the dark haired man, Alex snorted, taking a drink. "Yeah, well that's the way it is. Should be fucking used to it. What number you got?" On his arm, that was.

He pulls back on his sleeve a little to show the other the 008 » 040, completed not too long ago with a SEC. And despite Alex's expectations, this Alex here actually replies to that. "Her name was Annie; she had a lot of problems, and... I guess they all finally got to her here. I only knew her for a few months, but she's probably one of the reasons I'm even here today and not dead somewhere."

His determination on Strela wouldn't have been so stable, if she hadn't made him swear to keep going. He's gotten tired of running before he'd gotten to the ship—but she made him try regardless.

"Back home I'd lost a lot of people, too, but... there's no such thing as completely getting used to it. Unless you're willing to leave behind everything that makes you a person. But then, it makes life pointless, doesn't it?"

Alex snorted, revealing his own number, 006 >>[which is being changed by mods so I dont have it]...SEC as well. He wasn't surprised that he hadn't seen the other man around--the security department was pretty damn large, from what he could tell, and Alex tried to keep to himself most of the time.

"Everyone's issues get to them here; probably the point of this damn place, in some ways." Strela was a perfect example of that; it had messed with his head more than he ever wanted to admit.

Snorting, he shrugged. "I don't know--don't they say reinvention is a good thing, some days?" He took a drink, and after giving the dark-haired man a once over, he put out a hand. "Alex Summers."

"I know a place way too much like this one, so I can't help but agree with you on that one. As long as I'm not a drooling drone meandering the halls, I'll take the best I can get from this place."

What he can get, yeah... Which is surprisingly more than he expects lately. Despite all the painful, nearly mind-crippling moments here, he's found a lot of hold onto that he didn't have back home. And hell, he'd look more into this, but he's a little caught off guard by hearing his own first name introduced to him.

... Snort.

He takes the hand in return for a firm handshake.

"Alex Shepherd."

"Guess you already saw some people end up like that." Alex stifled a flinch, then, remembering dragging Dave back onto the shuttle--and knowing that there were other people he wasn't able to get out...that he was barely able to get out himself. He wasn't one to try to take the 'best' from this place. It had already taken a lot of what had made him better, recently. Alex couldn't deny he felt himself regressing back to a place he didn't want to be--without the safety net that caught him, last time.

When Alex gave his name, though, he allowed his focus to shift.

"You're shitting me." Alex had to give a bit of a smirk at the name, and a squeeze of the hand before letting go, returning to his drink. "Guess we got more in common than just our names, then."

More than he knew...

He drops his hand back to the bar, back to his scarcely-touched drink. "What, you mean you came from place equally as crazy as here? Because that's about what's on my resume, at this point."

He smooths a hand over his hair.

"On the bright side, this place isn't nearly as fucked up, I guess. Weird to say, but it's true."

"Well my normal home? Ain't this weird." Alex snorted, looking at the back of the bar, his mouth turning into a bit of a frown, then. "But before coming here I got--stuck, somewhere. Had stuff from your worst nightmares..." He shook his head, his voice dropping softly. "Really fucked with your head."

Alex continued to listen, then looked over at the other man. "Yeah. I mean--at least this place doesn't try to hide what it is."

"... Fucked with your head, huh?" He bows his chin, thoughtful. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Same thing happened to me. Only, I didn't go to it, it came to me. To my hometown and everything."

...

Just to make sure.

"This place you ended up wasn't a town called Silent Hill, right?"

JUST TO MAKE SURE.

"--seriously?" Alex made a face, but it wasn't one of disbelieving. If anything, he could totally understand that...somehow. After all, there were citizens of Promenade who had to suffer the same things they did. "Apparently towns have something against guys named Alex."

When he mentioned the town, though, he shook his head. "No. Promenade."

"Well, shit. I'd say congrats for not ever dealing with the place, but it sounds like you had your own crazy problems elsewhere anyway." He shakes his head, taking a small drink of his beer. And he half-laughs, just a little bitter. "Out of one problem into another. They didn't even bother to let me get outta' the town before they dragged my sorry ass here. Maybe I should start expecting it officially now."

"Yeah. Sounds like it doesn't really matter--we got fucked over no matter where we were." He poured himself another drink, letting out a frustrated breath, but a little smirk hitting his lips.

"You know, that's exact my feeling, these days. All I can do is start expecting the worst. Don't even know if hoping for the best is a good idea."

"Hard not to think that way, right?" He scrubs his hand over his face, finally leaning on his knuckle as he looks forward. "It's good when the worst doesn't happen, but it's hard to tell where my luck actually comes through for me. Stumbling through life has been my greatest skill."

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. "Well maybe that isn't such a bad thing. I try not to believe in luck anymore." It just lets him down, in the end.

Maybe Caroline wasn't as fast as she thought she would've been, or maybe she'd caught Alex at the tail end of the night club, but, either way, with the blaring of Johnny Cash, she put two and two together in her search for one Havoc. She knew he was grieving for his friends, much like she was still missing Elena since her departure from the Tranquility. As someone who should be accustomed to loss by now, it still hurt to find herself waking up on an unknown ship sans one friend.

She hovered by the door. For someone who spoke before she thought, she wasn't quite sure if he wanted anyone to enter his room. Hers had become her own private space that was hers - and Tyler's, now - that she felt couldn't be touched by anyone else. The last thing she wanted to do was make a bad situation even worse. "I didn't know we had animals on this ship. Isn't that against some sort of law?"

Alex looked up when he heard someone at the door, frowning for a moment when he saw Caroline. He hadn't really expected her to seek him out--in some ways, she reminded him of Raven--someone who was only concerned about themselves. But maybe...he was wrong about her. She was here, after all, right?

Giving her a shrug, he looked back down at Anya and Bozo, who were currently looking at the blonde woman with curiosity.

"Uh, no. And even if it was, I wouldn't care."

"You don't really care about much," she said. Wrong thing to say. She didn't need Bonnie or Elena around to tell her that. She closed her eyes for a minute, frustrated with herself, because any time she opened her mouth, the wrong words came out. The last thing she wanted to do was isolate Alex any further in his pit of grumpiness.

"Like … you wouldn't be you if you cared about rules, you know? Kind of doesn't go with the territory of being the opposite of sunshine." Not the best save, but if she could get Alex to make some quip about sunshine and rainbows not being his thing, she'd consider it a victory.

The thing was, she knew she had to tread carefully. Something she was not always good at doing. But a part of her felt compelled to come see him, to make sure he was all right, because she knew what it was like to lose people - on the Tranquility and back at home - and she knew that the one thing she would want, even if she said otherwise, was to know someone was at least thinking about her.

"Hey fuck you." Alex shot back quickly. Thing was--he cared about a lot. More than he could ever put into words--why the fuck did she think that he had drunk himself into a stupor? Because he didn't care about the people he lost? He didn't understand why she just couldn't get it.

Caroline tried to amend herself, and Alex just snorted, shaking his head. "Look, the damn dog was Erik's, then Charles. I'm not some heartless fuck to just let the dog get maimed here. Someone has to take care of it. So I am." Because it was all he had left.

Foot, mouth, there's an equation there.

Caroline's lost a few people on the Tranquility, but the only one that was from home was Elena. She'd been sad by the prospect of losing potential friends, but it seemed like people lost their Tranquility-made friends more than they lost anyone else while on this ship. Reading Alex was hard because, to her, he kept himself so locked up that she didn't quite know where to step. She was starting to think he had good reasons for that.

Tentatively, with a glance towards the dog, "Are Erik and Charles from your home?" She knew Alex's journey before the Tranquility wasn't the typical story of being kidnapped from home.

"Yeah." Alex snorted. They were from home, and unless he was wrong about his own fate, he would never see them again. That wasn't his path anymore. He was doomed to jump from reality to reality, some sort of refugee in time. That was what others had told him...and meeting another version of him, one that stayed on the timeline? Made it seem that much more real. But of course that Alex was gone, too.

All that was left now was a blue girl who betrayed her brother, and a Charles that didn't quite understand.

It was a painfully lonely feeling; it was a feeling he was used to feeling, but it never made it that much easier.

Above all, he was frustrated with himself; he knew this would happen, and yet still he allowed himself to get upset. To regress. To fall back into old habits.

He just didn't know how to cope. He never learned.

"The others I lost weren't. They still matter, though."

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If strength is born form heartbreak [Open]

NIGHT CLUB

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silent hill friends are here for you in the night club

Alex deserves his own "honorary SH kid" badge.

I'm sure he'll get that soon enough. Along with the rest of the ship. B^)

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a room with a view for something different

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