007 — handwritten & open action.

[argents]

Who: Banagher Links (argents) & you!
When: January 8th, throughout the day.
Where: LCU hospital
What: Protagonists gonna protag. Banagher followed his destiny, chased a princess, and got shot up by a Blood Key for his trouble. Newtype hax means he's now rotting in the hospital, going stir-crazy. Little does he know he's not the only one of his trope in this situation.

( HANDWRITTEN )

Got mixed up in something, at the hospital. Need a change of clothes / phone charger.

( ACTION, OPEN )

[ So he may feel a little stupid, sending out what amounted to an SOS. But he can only stare at the pale interior of his hospital room for so long.

Because he's only been here a day, and he's heard it a thousand times. Luck, luck, luck. It's beginning to get so old that he almost wants to say, no, it wasn't just dumb luck. But then again, he's not entirely sure he believes that either. Taking a bullet and living was a humbling experience. Taking a bullet and having it miss bone, miss his brachial artery... maybe he ought to start believing in miracles a little more, once it sinks it.

Not to say that miracles didn't hurt like hell.

In the end, it's all he can do to stifle his own focus on what landed him here, along with the pain that's still coursing through all his muscles. Sweeping beneath bruised skin, and delving into the bone. Frowning and setting his head back, he looks up at precisely nothing.

That'd really gone terribly, hadn't it? ]

(ooc. feel free to put the time in the subject for action!)

Comments

[flamberge]

[Silence follows the knocking for a good number of seconds. Maybe Banagher's asleep? It is fairly late... The okay to enter comes before any thought of turning around and leaving could be put into action. With permission to enter, Richard steps inside the room and closes the door behind him.

Visiting someone in the hospital instead of being visited yourself feels odd. On the upside, you're not the one being bothered while attempting to rest, but on the downside, you're forced to see someone else lying there in the bed.

Seeing Banagher in that position elicits a similarly odd response. Not only is seeing him in this state upsetting, but a small feeling of relief comes at the fact he's awake and seemingly without life-threatening injuries (though he does look terrible, but few people manage to look like movie stars while in a hospital). Good. That was the last thing Banagher deserved.

As soon as he's a few feet from the bed, Richard stops. His eyes, hidden behind those out of place sunglasses, are firmly on the bed's occupant.]

I hope you don't mind me visiting at this late an hour.

[argents]

[ If Banagher hadn't be expecting anyone this late, then he'd doubly not been expecting who comes through the door. Banagher spends a long, charged moment sizing up Richard, as if he can discern why he's there by sight alone. But then he promptly feels bad about it, and the surprise in his expression loosens. ]

...No, um. I don't mind, it's just — [ Looking away, he chews over his words. ] ...I didn't expect to see you here. That's all.

[ Because he'd pretty much been under the impression he was digging his own grave, the last time. ]

[flamberge]

[Being greeted with this sort of a response (a kinder response than anticipated, really) isn't unexpected. With how their last talk went, any other type of reply would have been a surprise. Said last talk may also be the cause behind a small feeling of awkwardness. No, it definitely is the cause. Few people know intimate information about Richard; fewer yet know about any suicide attempts. Talking with someone who knows, well, it doesn't happen often. It's... odd, actually. Odd and awkward.

Nevertheless, not visiting someone who helped him out on several occasions left a bad taste. Maybe Richard couldn't do anything to help Banagher per say, but making sure the guy was in one piece just felt right.]

Nor did I expect to see you here.

[Namely beaten up in a bed in the hospital. Richard frowns at that thought.]

What happened?

[argents]

[ Quieting, Banagher averts his gaze to his left arm, currently supported by a sling to take the strain off his torn muscles. He has to consciously avoid curling his fingers on reflex. Without the defense to throw up, his energy seems to drain. ]

I went into the Dead District.

[ Short and sweet, because he owes him that much. ]

When I got there, things were about to go bad. A friend of mine was in trouble, because of the Blood Keys, and... my head just blanked.

[flamberge]

[Richard's eyes follow Banagher's and land on that arm. His frown deepens at the sight of it. Though it doesn't look good, it doesn't seem as horrible as it had the potential to be. Still though, whatever happened, Banagher got banged up good.

Getting this straight forward of a reply is nice, if unexpected. The Dead District? Very risky, but understandable when the reason behind it had been someone in trouble (a noble thing to do and unexpected given Banagher's past helping record). Although, what did that final part mean? An eyebrow gets raised soon after it's said.]

Your head blanked?

[argents]

There were Blood Keys. Three of them, and they were going to hurt her. I sensed it.

[ By now, the dust had settled. Inside his head, mostly, independent from the pain that throbs through the gunshot wound to his shoulder. Briefly, he thinks it's ironic. And sad, how Richard Locke must've known what that felt like, in the worst way imaginable. It almost keeps him from going on, but time has made him too defenseless to be vague.

Banagher reaches over for a tub of his belongings. From under his jacket, stained in blood, and pulls out a metal object. A striking color, steely-white. Clicking it, the port on its end fizzles and spits.

It's the laser sword he'd mentioned on the network, some months earlier. ]

That's when I knew, that I had to do something. I moved before I even thought about it, and — I think... I killed someone.

[flamberge]

[Richard's eyes lingering briefly on the object. A vague recollection of that possibly being a sword comes and goes quickly. What that may be isn't important; what is important are those final few words out Banagher's mouth.

All attention instantly snaps back on him. This revelation brings out a few emotions on Richard's face, first mild surprise then look of sympathy mixed with understanding. Taking another's life is a heavy burden to bear. No matter why it happened, the life taken always remains on your hands.

Now Banagher, of all people, bears this burden.]

You endangered your life to save another and took a life in turn.

[Some people might try to give words of comfort, of how he did the right thing or that it wasn't his fault, but not Richard. Giving those sorts of peptalks has never been his style.]

Not every enemy encounter will end without fatality, however you helped prevent an innocent person from becoming that fatality.

[argents]

I know. I know that, but I still can't stop thinking about it. Not even for a second.

[ Perhaps he knows, too, that Richard Locke is not one to mince words, or construct pleasantries when there were none to be had. What he doesn't know is whether or not Karl Aurion was the same, but he has to believe that there's a common thread. It's that belief that makes the truth trickle out slowly, and painfully. He's waited until he was sure he'd hear the truth in return, even if it was an unpleasant one.

He could run from himself, but not from other people. ]

No matter what I wanted to do, it doesn't excuse this!

[flamberge]

[Silence comes from Richard's end. He's almost uncertain what to say in response to this. Almost. A stray idea does come to mind. It's not pleasant idea. It almost gets decided against. It may also, however, be the best thing to actually say.]

...When I told you the story behind my scar, I neglected to tell you the entirety of it.

[How long has it been since this tale has gotten told? Long enough for the discomfort in speaking about it to still be there and still be just as intense as always. The pain still lingers all the same, too.

Richard turns his eyes toward the window before taking a breath. Okay. He can say this. A story of this sort has the potential to ease Banagher's suffering. Taking a life can severely impact someone and the stray mental image of Banagher's stay in the hospital mirroring his own, of the boy attempting to end his life, is enough to get Richard to start talking.]

Years ago, my wife, my infant son and I were out together when we were attacked by several armed individuals. I attempted to fight them but was knocked out quickly. My wife and my son... they were killed.

[His voice doesn't crack per say, but the tone alone indicates that cracking isn't far off. Another deep breath gets taken as he tears his gaze from the window and focuses it back on Banagher.]

A life taken is a life taken, but bearing the pain of a life you failed to protect is far worse, far heavier a burden. Though at the cost of another life, you saved the person you were trying to protect. You will always have taken one life, but you will never have to hate yourself for not saving another.

[argents]

[ Banagher is respectfully silent for the entirety of the story. Only once does he even move, to bow his head and scrub at his eyes with the back of his free wrist. They're dry, but the action calms him, as if he's trying to will away the uncomfortable warmth gathered there — that of tears he can't work up the energy to let fall. The effects of the blood loss still grip him, making his head swim. But he understands the weight of Richard's words, and doesn't take them for granted, no matter what.

He knows what this story means. An unfortunate and sad addendum to what Richard Locke had admitted about who he later found out was Karl Aurion. That was why.

That was why he'd made an attempt on his own life. ]

All this time, I was telling myself that there must have been another way. Even though I was given a weapon, that there are better ways to protect people than killing. Better ways to live.

[ And even now, he doesn't want to think that he's wrong. That were was another option he should have had the strength to see, but didn't. ]

I don't have the strength to do what I feel is right, but...

[ Not think is right, but feel is right. It's the same sort of hopeless depth he's felt ever since his first pulse, all those months ago. The feeling that what he wanted to do, and what was expected of him, was nothing short of impossible. He'd gone and proven it by getting himself mixed up in something he couldn't handle. For a long moment, he's quiet, not wanting to cheapen the real, live moral of the story. ]

...but even so. I knew I wanted to help her, because — Colette is gone. And I don't want to lose anyone else.

[flamberge]

[Colette is... gone? There's a small frown at that, if a hint of understanding. No wonder Banagher would have wanted to save someone after losing another, even if not losing them to death. He'd have to get the details regarding Colette later; right now, however, all attention goes to Banagher.]

Sometimes there are only two choices: to act and not to act, to kill or not to kill.

[A harsh truth, but the truth. Not everything can always be sunshine and rainbows and no one dying. Choices need to be made. Hesitating in making those choices can mean making a mistake that cannot be undone. Banagher hadn't hesitated. He did what should have been done despite how unpleasant that action may have been.

Simply put, the boy's a hero. Blood may be on his hands, but thanks to that blood, a life had been saved. Richard can attempt to drill this fact home, if nothing else. Having someone actually say it makes all the world of difference sometimes.]

You had the strength to do what you believed you couldn't and this person is alive thanks to that strength. In the eyes of the person whose life you saved... and in my own, you did good.

[argents]

[ Banagher hadn't needed the praise, and maybe he didn't even want it. There's bits and pieces of him that are unforgiving of certain things, wholly and ironically intolerant of wasting those few aspects of humanity he thinks are so important. But when Richard says it — "You did good." — much of the strain begins to trickle out of him. All in all, he's getting worn down, even if it wasn't a bad thing.

Pressing his shoulders back against the upright hospital bed, he closes his eyes as if not having to look at anything will help him figure himself out. ]

I didn't have the right. No one does. [ To take a life. ] But I had to protect her. And... I'm glad I did.

[ Inexperience was where he'd tripped up. On what was likely, and, in some cases, necessary. ]

[flamberge]

[There we go. Those words are like music to Richard's ear. No one would be happy about killing, but to wallow in guilt over killing one person to save another dishonors both the person killed and the person saved.

Judging by how worn out Banagher looks, this little epiphany had come not a moment too soon. Just a few more words and their chat should be done and one of them could get some well-deserved sleep (hint: it's not the guy who doesn't actually need to sleep anymore).]

Then you have no reason for regret. Never forget the life you took, but do not allow the grief over it to consume you, especially considering what good came about as a result of that death.

[Namely the fact he won't have to attend a friend's funeral after the hospital stay.]

[argents]

[ There was no way to tell if he'd done exactly the thing that he was trying to prevent from happening to him. If the life he'd taken was treasured by someone else — a family, friends. No matter the path taken, to become a Blood Key, to murder, everyone knew someone. He believes that everyone had someone who'd remember them. To that end, he'd be a hypocrite to not regret it. Childishly, he moves his good arm to cover his face with the crook of his elbow. ]

I'm not going to forget!

[ Which is just as much for himself as it is to prove it to Richard. It's also the one thing that's forcing all the emotion to the forefront, making it gather warmly in the corners of his eyes. ]

I can't.

[flamberge]

[No move gets made to comfort Banagher. There's just no need for it. Crying sometimes helps more than anything else. No comment gets made on the tears, none. All that exists is an unspoken 'cry as much as you need, I won't say a word about it'.]

Good.

[One word feels like a bad note to potentially end their conversation. A little bit more feels appropriate to say. Yes, he'll say one more thing, one final attempt at drilling the point home that Banagher's actions were good.]

You are a good person, Banagher, and this goodness is why an innocent person is alive and why even one not so innocent will never be forgotten.

[Richard's voice, though gentle, holds a firmness to it, as though he knows this to be the truth and wants Banagher to understand that, as well.]

[argents]

[ Banagher doesn't really know if he believes that the way he feels is out of goodness, or just plain guilt. What he does know is that Richard's words strike true, on some hidden chord he wasn't even aware he had, hammering the final nail in his resolve. Life and death was something that happened — even over these long and taxing months. He'd been fortunate enough to not have anyone close to him die, and for all the dangers that they encountered, surprisingly few had taken lives in turn. Death haunted his memories, but here... real as it was, and close as it was, it was still something that had always happened to other people.

Until now, anyway.

With that comfortable white noise gone, the ability to pretend that, in a way, it wasn't happening to him, everything else is free to torrent out. But it's not a rush of anger, or disbelief, or even fright, though he's scared.

Rather, it's just quiet acceptance. Difficult to swallow, and even harder to explain.

So he doesn't try to provide justification where there is none anymore, taking Richard's following silence for what it is: an acceptance of its own. Only then do the tears really fall. ]

[flamberge]

[Another silence follows, one with the same message behind it, namely 'cry as much as you need'. What those tears signify, Richard can't be sure. What is certain, however, is the fact that this chat has had some impact, hopefully a good one.

Once a solid few moments have passed, only then does Richard speak again.]

I should let you rest now.

[Between the injuries (both emotional and physical) and the crying just now, Banagher has to be drained. The guy needs some serious rest. Richard makes to leave, but says one final thing while turning towards the door.]

Never lose this motivation you have to help others. It's a trait few possess and even fewer put to use.

[argents]

[ It takes him a while to calm down, mostly due to the fact that he has nothing left to give once the tears slow. In some way, he's grateful that Richard is leaving, and in others, he's not sure how he feels about being left alone with nothing but his own thoughts. Banagher doesn't voice it; he knows he'll have to think about it, eventually. Not now though, with the way he's finally settling into the hospital bed.

Scraping his knuckles across his eyes, he manages a nod — one of gratitude for the understanding he thought maybe he hadn't deserved.

But it's also of acknowledgement, for what Richard was telling him. He wouldn't forget. ]

[flamberge]

[Silent acknowledgement can be particularly loud, as is the case now. Somehow it also said that Banagher would be okay. It may take time, but he would. That thought alone puts Richard's mind at rest. Yes, the boy is strong, far stronger than Richard himself could ever hope to be. He'll get through this.

A small nod, one of approval, comes from Richard's end before he starts toward the door.]

Take care.

[With those final parting words, Richard finally takes his leave.]