Nervous Breakdown [Open]

[redhotsummers]

CHARACTERS: Alex Summers [CR AU] and Open
LOCATION: Wandering the Halls
WARNINGS: PG-13. Will update if things change
SUMMARY: Alex is paranoid and worried about seeing ghosts. He is jumpy, and isn't in that great of control over his powers. Derek Hale will for sure be meeting up with him, but feel free to post your own encounter if you like!



Alex should never should have put on the mask the second time. He should have resisted, he should have listened to the small voice in the back of his head, telling him to get away from it. To lock it away, and never look at it again. But Alex, as usual, had been weak, and put it on, anyways...and had seen his sister and Darwin, burning, charred, looking at him with accusing eyes.

It was only for a few moments, but it was enough to bring nightmares back to make him think that even without the mask on, he might see them, again. He felt out of control, jumpy, shooting off plasma in the darkness. It was a danger--to himself and others, but he was trying his best to regain that control, to not let other people notice.

So he was going to go on patrol again, wander again, and act like nothing was wrong. It was what he did best; even with the monsters perhaps lurking around the corners, he'd pretend he could beat them. It was the only way he could function, now.

Comments

hope this is okay!

[shoyu]

It had taken a long time for him to finally rip that mask off, to try not to think about it too hard. Hours after he'd stowed that mask away in the corner of his closet, piled up the torn remains of some of his older clothes on top to hide it from view, and Soysauce still felt his thoughts wandering towards that mask once in a while.

Which was why he ended up wandering around the hallway to try and get a fresh breath of air, turn his thoughts elsewhere. His shift on SEC duty had already ended, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to make his way around the ship, searching for any decent source of distraction.

Head ducked as he felt his thoughts wander, footsteps quiet and steady against the floor, Soysauce wasn't properly looking where he was going. Probably the reason why he turned a corner and almost slammed face-first into another person turning the same corner from the other direction. He barely managed to stop himself, falling back a step with a small, startled noise. "-- sorry!"

[redhotsummers]

When Alex felt someone collide with him, he barely managed to direct the blast of plasma that came sliding down his arms away from the figure in front of him, leaving a smoking, glowing scorch mark on the wall just next to the stranger's head.

"Holy shit--"

Taking a few steps back, he immediately put his hands up in the air, forcing himself to calm down. He hadn't lost control like that since Strela. "I'm sorry...sorry."

He was going to get someone killed at this rate.

[shoyu]

He -- didn't really understand what had happened at first. All he knew was that a sudden bolt of head had streaked by his head and slammed into the wall just behind him, the blast of heat and air close enough to ruffle at his hair and leave his skin feeling hot.

And there was a tense pause before Soysauce felt his knees simply buckle, his body reacting to that sudden, jolting shock by flopping down to sit on the floor, eyes wide as he stared up at Alex.

"Ah -- it's alright?" A nervous laugh, as Soysauce boggled at the scorchmarks left on the wall. "Should've watched where I was going, I think."

[redhotsummers]

Shit--

Alex immediately knelt at the stranger's feet, hands out in front of him as if he wanted to check to make sure he was okay, but was afraid to touch him. "I just--it's the damn masks, they..." He swallowed, refusing to finish the sentence. It was just an excuse, and excuses weren't acceptable. He couldn't allow them to fill in what he did--he nearly hit someone.

"I don't normally lose control like that. Are you sure I didn't singe you?"

[shoyu]

Truth be told, Soysauce was still awfully startled by that sudden blast of -- he didn't even know what it was. Still, the fact that the other man seemed to apologetic and worried at least made it clear that it hadn't been anything intentional.

Pressing a hand against the back of his neck to make sure he wasn't smoldering, Soysauce gave a weak laugh -- looking up at Alex, trying to give a reassuring smile. "Ah, please don't worry, I'm fine! Nothing too well-done, I think. Just awfully startled."

A slow exhale before he gets back on his feet, smoothing down his clothes as he grins at Alex, eyebrow raised. "I take it that wasn't any sort of gun you had hiding in your sleeve?"

[the_infiltrator]

Cameron was out patrolling, because it was what she did every night, and it was better to stop a threat before it got to John's door. She didn't need a light to see by, and she was wearing dark clothing, which was perhaps a recipe for disaster.

She stopped when she saw Alex's heat signature, though. "You should go back to bed. It's not safe here."

[redhotsummers]

He couldn't control himself. He knew that. He knew it, and still he was out, wandering. It was reckless, irresponsible. Alex was distracted, too worried about what he had seen, what the mask told himself about his true nature, that Cameron's words startled him more than they should have.

Out of instinct, he fired a shot of plasma into the darkness; lucky enough it wasn't enough to destroy, just burn.

The minute the blast went off, Alex cursed, running to find out who he sent it towards, and hoped he didn't hit them. "Shit--shit."

[the_infiltrator]

Cameron had brought her own weapon up to fire, but his tone was not the tone of a person who was out to kill. She stepped forward to be close enough to grab him if he tried to run, and didn't seem to mine the very nasty burn on her cheek and neck.

"You're not supposed to be out here. You could kill someone. Or they could kill you."

[redhotsummers]

Alex hadn't lost control like that in years. The fact he hit someone (regardless that she didn't seem to be in pain), cut through to the heart of him. Putting his hands up when he saw the gun, he tried to remove the emotion from his face, knowing it had to look distraught.

"I'm on security I just--the damn masks--" He was stumbling over himself, sounding like an idiot. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to take a breath, to settle himself. He could beat himself up over this later. Right now, he needed to focus.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the woman again, and spoke with a much more steady tone. "I can handle myself, normally--your cheek--" He reached out, not touching, but close to it.

[the_infiltrator]

"You're not a good security officer right now." As if he needed to be told; as if he wasn't already upset. She looked at his hand, and reached up to touch the injury. A quick diagnostic told her she'd be healed back up in a few days.

"It's fine. Just a scratch. Come with me; you need to be away from other people." She smiled, attempting to be reassuring. "You need to be calm."

[gothchicklit]

It was probably a stupid thing for her to do, but October had a habit - especially now, after the lock down - of hanging out in the hallways outside her room on the fifth floor in the middle of the night. Or what they perceived as the middle of the night since there wasn't a sun or moon to tell them when it actually was. The quiet, which should probably set her on edge, seemed to calm her sometimes when her thoughts go to be too much.

Tonight, though, she needed to get up and stretch her legs. After setting her book down, she stood up and raised her arms over her head, back arching to pop her spine a few times. Then she started walking down the hallway, sneakers squeaking occasionally against the floor.

The masks were unsettling, of course, and October had one on the front of her door, but she hadn't put it on. Hadn't really seen the point considering all the crap the ship had thrown at the so far.

[redhotsummers]

It was the squeak of her shoes that saved her from a blast of plasma. Flexing and unflexing his hands, Alex stayed still, focusing on the sound, forcing himself to repeat that ghosts didn't make noise like that, and there was no one trying to get him--he had to stay in control; hurting someone because of the damn mask was the last thing he wanted to do.

Turning the corner, he saw a dark haired woman in the distance, moving closer to him. After a moment, he breathed out, recognizing her. "...October?"

[gothchicklit]

As soon as he came into her line of sight, October tensed; just because she was walking the hallways didn't mean that everyone she saw was trustworthy or safe. But then he said her name and she looked a little closer.

"Plasma boy." She knew his name well enough by now, but the nickname might just stick. She stops walking when she gets a bit closer to him, hands moving into the front pockets of her jeans. "What are you doing out here?"

[redhotsummers]

"I'm on patrol, idiot." Alex ran a shaky hand through is hair, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be out here alone." He didn't need to explain it, but he could have hurt her; other things could be out here, and harm her too. If he was struggling with control, there had to be others that were as well.

[gothchicklit]

October shot him a glare at the idiot part of that, but when she notices the shaking of his hand, she sobers. "I know," she says. Being alone is never a good idea - it's what got her killed back home, after all - but sometimes she needed it. And out here felt a little less claustrophobic than her room. "Feel like sparing a few minutes to walk me back?"

She didn't feel like she actually needed the company or anything, but if it gave her a chance to maybe see what was bothering him, she figures she may as well take it.

[altercate]

There are people who are relatively safe to meet in a dark hallway. Unfortunately Derek Hale is not one of those people. Derek Hale isn't someone you'd want to meet in a dark anything even on a good day.

It can be argued that no day on the Tranquility is a good day. That wouldn't be completely off base.

At times, Derek just needs to be alone. He's been alone for a very long time, and being surrounded sometimes just gets...overwhelming might be the best word, but its more than that. It's the sensation that people are burrowing under his walls, getting too close. He can't exactly stop that, but he can step back and put some phsyical distance between everyone, as if that helps.

So he retreats into the darkness of the ship, paying little mind to where he walked.

[redhotsummers]

Alex would swear later to Derek that he saw something down that hallway. Not Derek, of course (werewolf form or no), but something else. The man who kidnapped his foster sister, the one who started all of this, the one who caused such anger in Alex that it activated his powers, and he destroyed everything he cared about in a single blast.

As it was, when he thought he saw the man, Alex sent a blast of plasma shooting down the corridor by instinct.

Sorry, Derek.

[altercate]

This is Derek's life. Go for a walk? Get blasted through a wall. In a way, it's almost comforting. Familiar. Bad things happen to Derek Hale. At least this is something less devastating than Kate Argent's appearance.

It hits like a sledgehammmer, like a truck, all fire and agony and Derek might have screamed, he doesn't know. What he does know is that his flesh is seared and ripped and his entire body has more or less gone into shock and he has to lie very still and curl into the fetal position to try to ride out the pain until it heals.

Just a day in the life, really.

[redhotsummers]

The minute he heard the scream, Alex realized his mistake, and the shot of guilt slammed through him hard. "Shit!" Running fast, he followed his trail of destruction, sliding to his knees next to Derek. "I'm--Derek--" There was blood, and the smell of burned flesh, and Alex tried to ignore the sting of tears at his eyes, at the self loathing that bubbled up with him. "Derek, I'm sorry--I--you looked like someone else."

But that wasn't a good excuse, was it? Even if he could heal, it was a pathetic excuse, and he was pretty damn sure Derek wouldn't want to go near him ever again. He tried to find a place of non-burn, to touch gently.

[altercate]

This is fitting on some level. It's probably fucked that this is Derek's first thought, that he immediately thinks, well, this is what I deserve, because the smell of burning flesh and the agony of it, that's all what his family felt and that was all what Derek deserved, wasn't it? He should feel what they felt, because it had been Derek's fault it had happened at all.

It takes a moment for his body to recover enough to even start the healing process, burnt skin knitting back together. There's a fluttering of fingers and Derek grunts. He has a mouthful of teeth, a gurgling in his throat that could possibly be a snarl except he can't get a handle on himself to even come close to being threatening.

"Don't--"

Don't touch me is what he means to say, because even like this Derek wants to roll away from it. But he's having a hard enough time breathing past the agony, choking on the smell of charred flesh. But if this comes off as don't apologize that's just as well. This wasn't something Alex should feel guilty about, not when Derek deserved it.

[psychometry]

In the days that followed their exchange on the network Quinlan finds himself accidentally reneging on his word to Alex: he doesn't contact the younger man, but it's not on purpose. Between the unnervingly mysterious appearance of his mask and the slow, sickly slide in to anger and frustration that came with wearing it, the mental note to contact the young man with the plasma ability was pushed aside.

Quinlan's mask - the face of an ancient corpse, half skull and half mouldering skin stretched too tightly over jutting bones - had been making frequent appearances since then. Wearing it brought rage, yes, but a savage will to get things done. Sick of the frustration that came with seemingly doing nothing to get back to civilised space Quinlan had taken to quietly prowling the more corridors, lightsaber not ignited but firmly held in both hands, in the hope of encountering something - anything - like the manticores he had heard of on the network.

What he found, however, was Alex. Instantly recognising the young man from their exchange he stopped in his track and lifted a hand to pull the mask (slowly, and not without great reluctance) from his face.

"Alex Summers?"

[redhotsummers]

Coming around the corner, he saw a man with a skeleton for a face--immediately he felt his plasma start to churn up within him, feeding into his wrist ports. He was about to fire when Quinlan pushed the mask up...and revealed instead the face of that jedi-guy he had talked to on the network.

Forcing the plasma back into his system with some difficulty, Alex snorted, giving a nod. "Yeah, it's me. Quinlan, right? Dude--you should not be wearing that thing, man. I nearly killed you." Well, it may not have killed him, but it certainly would have upset his day.

[psychometry]

The complaint about the mask falls on deaf ears as Quinlan slowly ties the mask back on to his belt by a subtle strip of leather at his hip. He drops his gaze briefly as he knots the strap loosely enough to allow the mask to sway - a garish dead man's grin and the power it brings - rage, frustration - at his right hand, both literally and figuratively. Only when he's sure that the mask won't fall free does he look up again, cool and impassive in the face of Alex's exclamation.

"But you didn't. Capability walks hand-in-hand with control." he simply observes, eyes dark in the half-light of the corridor. He pauses a moment, then smiles loftily. "Well done for not killing me."

[redhotsummers]

"Yeah, well these masks are making a lot of people lose control." The fact that this guy had been wearing his made Alex wary enough. He sensed his plasma at the surface, making sure it would be there if he needed to call on it, to pull it out quickly. He didn't trust anyone who had been wearing the mask--hell, he didn't trust himself completely, considering the situation.

"You know," Alex nodded his head towards Quinlan's mask, "Kinda got to worry about a guy who has a mask like that."

[psychometry]

"Don't," Quinlan replies gruffly, one hand drifting down to brush against the leathery skin of the face at his hip. "Save your worrying for things that need it. Like the rest of the ship."

He begins to walk off and lifts his chin with the slightest of movements for Alex to follow him, a silent invitation to walk and talk as they both continue their prowling of the corridors.

"There are more things to be afraid of here than masks, aren't there?"