paradisalogs | EIGHTEENTH SHOT

Entry tags:

tess

EIGHTEENTH SHOT

Who: Tess and whoever :')
What: Smoking. And sulking.
When: Todayish.
Where: The Grand Hall.
Rating: PG.

Tess is used to doing things without Joel. Despite being partners in the post-apocalyptic sense, they’ve usually kept separate apartments, separate spaces –– God knew the two of them spent so much time stressed out that living together in Boston would have driven them to tearing each other apart. Well before the government connected their criminal identities to their personal ones, at that.

And in that sense, it isn’t too unusual to spend a week more or less alone, sleeping late and going about her business alone, catching up with contacts and connections alone… Joel never liked that part, and was never good at it the way she was. Joel never had her ambition, the kind that made her content to just work and work and work. Joel wanted to be an old man and stew in the past constantly, and she never let him do much of that.

In Paradisa, things had been different. They’d still spent a fair time alone, but without stress around every corner, it had been easier to spend a lot of time together. They could talk a little more openly, they could indulge in things neither thought they’d ever see again, they could play at domestics and pretend they weren’t people who didn’t flinch before breaking a bone or putting a bullet in someone’s skull. They could be decent people, even if they were always going to be short on friends. It was a good space for Tess, both physically and spiritually, and in that space, a little bit of something could flourish even where they’d both deliberately drowned each other for years.

In Paradisa, she’d thought that maybe someday she could love him. Give it enough time and she could be normal enough to feel things like that, love a man as well as live with him and work with him and raise adopted kids with him. She could grow a bit of humanity, she was sure of it. She still had it in her. Someday she’d get to the point where she could put that much stock in someone else and trust they wouldn’t be gone by next week, taking that bit of her with them.

But whatever feelings she’d allowed herself to grow towards Joel are gone now, gone with him. For now, she just feels a little empty, maybe even a little sore that she’d given into that kind of vice yet again. After all these years, she doesn’t know if she has it in her to spare any love for whatever comes next.

Or whatever is already here, frankly. Joel’s left behind two kids now, even if only one was ever properly his. What is she supposed to do with a couple of teenage girls? She can’t leave them, she knows better than that, but who can say if they’ll even want to stick around her?

Either way, she’ll do what she always does: soldier on.

-x-

Tess remembers a time where smokers had to stay ten feet away from any public doorway, and then she remembers a time where cigarettes became such a luxury that smoking laws stopped being relevant. She always feels old when she thinks about law and government and enforcement, largely because it means she’s old enough to remember when things were very different.

And then timeless as always, Paradisa has no laws.

Tess brings her cigarette to her lips, takes a drag, and then exhales, letting the smoke trail from her mouth lazily. The Grand Hall is lovely as always, and Tess feels even more out of place than usual with not only her cigarette but also her slightly-too-tight jeans and t-shirt. Forty years old and in a hoodie, with her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and her practical hiking boots dutifully laced on in case of emergency –– she’s pretty sure that even after almost eight months here, she still looks like some sort of white trash drug addict in most people’s eyes, but if she’s being realistic, no amount of time will fade all her scars and she was never going to start wearing white collared shirts or tailored pants. That just isn’t her.

Whoever she is in a place like this, anyway.

Tess takes another drag, sinking a little lower in her seat, and then she taps off the ashes onto a teacup saucer. The journal sits closed at arm’s length, on top of a bookmarked novel. Her cellphone is there, too, largely useless considering her diminishing contacts list. Tess casts it an almost disdainful look before looking down at the cigarette between her fingers.

She’s so listless that she can’t compel herself to do anything, and yet so starved for company that she’s smoking in the fucking dining room.

“Christ,” she grumbles to herself.

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Elena knows all too well what it looks like to mourn. Everyone goes about it in different ways. Some drink, some smoke, some cry, some withdraw, some self-destruct, some turn their humanity off like she did. It doesn't matter the method though, the look is always the same. It's a tired look that's behind someone's eyes that gives it away.

Elena thinks of creeping back out of the room, leaving the woman to her privacy. After all, she doesn't know Tess. She doesn't know what (or who) she might have lost. Elena also is pretty sure nothing that she says or does will necessary be of any help and might even irritate her. But she remembers that being alone afterward was often the worst part about losing someone or something important was the part after everyone backed off. At first, they surrounded you. They offer their condolences, their suggestions of how best to cope, to remember, maybe even to forget. It's just white noise though. Loud, grating and useless because nothing anyone says or does will bring back who or what you've lost. You think that's the worst of it. But then you either force them away or they simply walk away on their own. They carry on with their lives and wonder why you haven't as well while you're left numb with the pieces of what used to be.

Elena decides she'd rather at least provide some company and risk pissing Tess off than turn and walk the other way. Elena clears her throat.

"This seat taken?"

It always surprises Tess how friendly people can be here. Or maybe "friendly" is the wrong word –– friendliness itself certainly isn't dead in her time, just a little more cautious. What's really dead in her world is a sense of community, the kind that prompts complete strangers to reach out to each other, and that's why Tess looks up at Elena with a guarded look.

"No," she says, after a beat. She sits up a little straighter and takes her feet down from the adjacent chair. "You need a light or something?"

"No, I never picked up that habit," Elena says with a small shake of her head as she sits down. She thinks if she did, she'd never stop. Not all parts of being a vampire sucked, but the heightened emotions sure as hell wasn't the greatest. "I was just in the kitchen trying to bake some cookies for a friend and thought I'd sit out here while they're cooling."

Elena clears her throat and rubs at the back of her neck.

"I'm...not exactly kitchen-friendly. So I'm hoping they're at least edible. Ish." She really would at least settle for Cassel not accusing her of trying to poison him or otherwise bringing forth an abomination unto the baking world.

Mostly though, she thinks that sounds better than "you looked like you could use some company" so that's what she's opting for.

Tess gives a little hum, something like acknowledgment. Friendly people.

"I'm sure they're fine," she says, to be polite. She taps off her cigarette again, moving it to the other hand so it's not as close to Elena. "And don't cut yourself down, it just gives people reason to doubt you."

Still, she pushes the chair out with her foot. Sit.

Elena takes the offered chair.

"When it comes to my cooking? I could probably stand a few hits. There's a high probability you could kill someone with it," she says with a small smile. But there is an obvious truth to what Tess says. If you put yourself down enough, people start to believe it. There's only so much someone can argue against it.

Elena folds her arms on the table.

"What about you? Just here for a smoke?"

She remembers being a teenager and being self-depreciating like that, and she's glad she grew out of it; otherwise she might be like Jennifer, constantly stumbling over herself and seemingly always at a crossroads. Tess much prefers her own refusal to admit weakness. Tess prefers being a bad person, because for all its pitfalls, it's something she excels at.

Elena doesn't look a day over twenty, young enough to go either way, but Tess just doesn't have it in her right now to extoll the virtues of hiding any and all weakness. Not to all these young, friendly people who are determined to see the world at its best.

"Something like that," Tess replies, almost dismissively. She takes a drag off of her cigarette. "I live with two teenagers. This is my attempt at not being a bad influence."

"Are they yours?" Elena cants her head. Tess doesn't seem exactly like the maternal type. She seems too rough around the edges to have much patience for kids, much less teenagers. Then again, if they are her kids, they're probably used to it. Or they see a softer side to Tess that she won't show to other people, much less to a stranger.

And Elena is one of those people to believe that just because someone's a little colder or sterner doesn't mean they lack a soft side. It's possibly a foolish of looking at the world and other people - it's definitely landed Elena in trouble before - but it beats the alternative. Elena doesn't want to spend her life waiting for the other shoe to always drop or believing the worst of people. It seems like too sad a life to lead.

That actually gets a bit of a chuckle.

"No... they're young enough to be, but I've never had kids, thank God," she says. "One of them is my partner's kid, the other is the kid's friend. That's the simple version of it, anyway. We're not really a nuclear family."

Partner sounds cold when they'd just spent eight months nursing the embers of their relationship into something a little more viable, but it's still the only word Tess has for it.

Elena smiles a little. It doesn't really sound too different from how things were on the Barge. People made their own families. She supposes thing here wouldn't be any different though she hasn't had any luck yet in making a family of her own here yet.

"Family's family though. It's good you guys have each other."

Tess shrugs listlessly — there's the trite platitude she expected to drop any moment.

"They're his kids. I'm doing him a favour." A pause. "They're not bad kids, at least. I'm just more stepmother material than mother material."

Elena nods a little. That doesn't need any further explanation as it would seem Elena's earlier hunch was fairly accurate and she doesn't see anything wrong with it. Most teenagers push away from their mothers anyway. So maybe all they really need is someone to turn to for support when necessary, but otherwise do what they want.

"I have a..." It's still a little awkward even for Elena to think of Cassel as a friend. He's been donating blood every now and again to her so she doesn't have to rely purely on wishes all the time and they've managed to get along a lot better than they did before. But there's still a lot of history. Most of it bad. She doesn't know what else to call him though, so she avoids it altogether. "I know someone from before I arrived at the Castle. We agreed to look out for each other, but we're not really close."

"Well, shelling out for others has it's advantages, even if you don't care about them as a person."

She'd know.

She taps off the end of her cigarette and takes another drag.

"Considering we used to sorta hate each other, I'd say so." Elena smiles a little. It's strange to think how much has changed in just a few months. "Is that what you have with your partner? Just an arrangement?"

Tess leans back in her seat. She's not terribly inclined to open up to a complete stranger, but everyone here still strikes her as harmless and naïve; they couldn't even imagine how to weaponize knowledge of her relationship with Joel, even if they had the motivation to. And even if they scraped up that much, Joel isn't even here to get hurt.

Christ.

"Yes and no," Tess replies. "We're either killing each other or killing for each other, if you know what I mean. I just meant in general, you have to make investments to make a profit."

Elena wonders a little what kind of life Tess has led that's made her this way. She doesn't believe people look at the world and other people like that naturally. That's something that has to be made. Or more accurately forged. It's a necessity that even when you're put into a place like this where there's far less risk and danger, you never fully shake it. Kill or be killed sheds a little light on it, but not much.

She nods.

"This place must be a good break then."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Tess replies, but it's a little deadpan. It gets exasperating to constantly be asked to show appreciation for something that everyone should get: safety, warmth, sustenance, and all those things. "Probably the best six months of my life."

"This might sound a little screwed up, but I kinda miss where I was before. The Castle didn't take me when I was at home, but I definitely felt way more at home there than here," Elena replies, leaning back a little in her chair.

Tess shrugs. What else can she do?

"Your luxury, I guess. I'd just stay here, given the choice."

Jennifer hadn't heard from her usual charges in a couple of days- which actually wasn't all that unusual, given how they very much tended to keep to themselves unless they needed- or wanted- something from her. But after Joel had managed to evade her for weeks while nursing his broken hands on his own, she figured she'd try and nip any future instances like that in the bud as much as she could, or at the very least make sure both of their rooms were still there.

As usual, Jennifer hated herself a little bit for the fact that she kept doing this, that she kept keeping tabs on those two, that she kept insistently showing them kindness, that she always readily welcomed them for medical treatment, since she knew good and well that neither of them wanted her pity or charity. Pity was part of her motivation, though- pity and the insistent nagging of her conscience and medical morals.

Damned morals.

Jennifer couldn't help but feel a pang of shock, then of sadness when she reached Joel's door to find his room empty. He, at least, had tried to come to some sort of understanding with her. Despite his undying loyalty to Tess, he, much moreso than Tess, had seemed much less inclined to be an outright asshole to her.

After checking to see that Tess' room was still there, Jennifer wrestled with herself for an embarrassingly long time over what to do next. Tess hadn't answered a knock, so she was either purposely not answering the door or had left her room entirely. Jennifer could just leave it at that. Could just let go of the idea of trying to show the other woman kindness again. Could just walk away and let things play out how they would without Joel here.

But once more, her own desire to do something- anything- to help another person won over, so Jennifer spent some time looking around the castle for Tess, but had been about to give up after a while when she thought she smelled cigarette smoke. Looking for the source, she finally found who she was looking for.

After one final hesitation, Jennifer silently wished up a couple of beers- one for each of them- and slid into a seat near Tess, silently popping the tops off, setting one near Tess' improvised ash tray and keeping one for herself. She didn't speak, waited for the other woman to make the next move, which, Jennifer realized, would probably be to tell her to piss off.

Well, so be it. At least I tried.

Edited 2014-05-18 01:33 (UTC)

Tess acknowledges the beer before she acknowledges Jennifer –– she certainly notices Jennifer the instant she comes into the room, mostly because Tess never lets anyone trespass around her unnoticed, but acknowledgement is something that takes a bit more effort. Besides –– Jennifer can be so damn flighty sometimes, and as bitter as Tess is feeling, it'd be a shame to spook her.

So Tess picks up a table knife almost mindlessly, and she uses the good silverware to pry off the bottlecap. She drinks deeply in that straddling-alcoholism sort of way and then meets Jennifer's eyes.

"Last I checked, I owed you, not the other way around."

Jennifer looked back at Tess calmly and shrugged, taking a deep drink of her own. Well, at least this hadn't turned into an argument right off the bat. There was still plenty of time for that to happen, mind, but it was a good start.

"And you know I don't keep score. Besides, maybe I just felt like a drink. ... Okay, that's not true."

She resolutely shut her mouth to stop from babbling more.

She almost laughs, but she doesn't –– she hasn't felt this down in the dumps in years, since the last time she lost someone important. Instead she just makes a face like she wants to laugh but just can't muster up the energy.

"You didn't even wait for me to call you on how ridiculous that sounds, you just blasted on ahead and did it for me."

Jennifer actually did laugh- not much more than a derisive snort, but it was there. Oh boy, already with the insults. Jennifer rarely got drunk, but she had a feeling that this conversation was going to end with her going back to her room and passing out, one way or another.

"Hell, you know if there's one thing I'm good at, it's being down on myself. Besides, there's no point in trying to bullshit you, right?"

"None at all," Tess replies. She thinks about a time where she regular beat the shit out of people for even trying, or just settled for breaking their fingers beyond natural repair. A time where she was a lot more ruthless, but probably a lot more liked –– people got their vices because of her, even if they had to pay a good price.

She takes another swig.

"You could get an award for self-depreciation."

"That I could," Jennifer mused quietly. Despite itself, her mind was going back, back to when she'd first come to Atlantis, back when she'd volunteered on the spur of the moment to step up as head medic, not really thinking about what she was doing. When she'd told Elizabeth that she, Jennifer, was not fit to lead and needed to be replaced...

And now, now she'd ended up here. More or less one of the lead medics again, helping Simon and the others train civilians as best they could, doing whatever tiny amount they could to try and prepare them for whatever the castle might throw at them next. And in the here and now, she was drinking beer with someone she could never decide if she wanted to hate or wanted to like, despite everything. Someone who scared her and interested her and made her feel humbled and grateful for the relatively easy life she'd had in comparison. Someone she wanted to help.

"... Damn." Jennifer was almost finished with her beer; after some hesitation, she finished it in one drink and wished another one up. "Another thing I know you don't want to hear is condolences. But I want to do something. So if you want to sit here and drink and not give a crap about anything, we can do that. If you want to talk, I can listen. If you want me to leave and never speak of this again, I can do that, too. Whatever floats your boat."

Tess lets her eyes go unfocused for a moment, staring off into the distance. How often does she hear something like that? No one questions her emotional state back in Boston –– not even Joel, to an extent. Loss often just prompts people to fall in line to help her get even, but here there's nothing to really get even with.

If she were like this over anyone else and Joel were here instead of Jennifer, he probably wouldn't be saying any of this. He'd just let her stew, and maybe they'd spend some time together in comfortable silence, or maybe she'd eventually snap at him and let it all out. That's Joel, though. He never coddles her.

Tess turns her bottle around in her hands, just to have something to occupy herself while she thinks. This silence is more moody than any sort of comfortable, she thinks.

"I really don't know what there is to say," she replies, eventually. "But stay if you want. I just can't promise I'll be good company."

"Probably not a whole lot," Jennifer admitted. "But that's fine by me."

She kept it at that and took another pull at her beer to cover the awkward silence, because anything more than that might earn scorn from Tess, at the very least. Something like, I just didn't think you should be alone right now. That wasn't a sentiment the other woman would look for coming from someone else, probably wouldn't appreciate.

God. What was I thinking, coming here?

Tess looks down at her bottle for a moment longer, and then she fixes her eyes on Jennifer with a tired look. While she usually thinks she'll leave a prettier corpse than the average person back in Boston would, there's certainly something to be said about how life has taken a toll on her: no amount of sleep will fade the dark patches under her eyes, and no amount of food will reverse twenty years of malnutrition, the dryness of her skin or the dullness of her hair.

And for once, she feels about as miserable as she looks.

Deep breath, almost a sigh.

"You always check to see who's left, or is it just me?"

Jennifer looked back at Tess, a little surprised at the question. She'd still half expected Tess to just tell her to go away, or come up with some insult about her, or... something. Not talk about what they both knew she was here for.

"I do checkups on people pretty often, yeah," she admitted. "Just to see if their rooms are still here. And, well, Joel managed to evade me for weeks once when he was hurt, and I didn't want something like that to happen again."

She considers that for a moment, holding her beer halfway to her mouth, and then she gives a huff, something caught between amusement and bitterness.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered that you're checking up on us because you care, not because you're looking for a way out," Tess replies. Another pause. "Thanks."

Not that it does much to prevent a loss, but in a world where even winning comes at some kind of price, you learn to take the losses in stride. Otherwise, you'd just end up burning out hard.

And then, a whole lot less amused:

"I'm not sure why I expected things to turn out differently this time."

Jennifer held her beer in both hands, staring down at it. Thanks were rare from Tess, and she was again surprised at the niceness. If she had to be honest with herself, Jennifer wouldn't be too upset if she was freed from this weird captivity she'd found herself in- forever wrestling with her morals versus her own desire to feel safe and happy- but disappearances were something she never wished on anyone.

Jennifer looked back up at Tess.

"You're welcome," she said sincerely. "Regardless of what goes on here... I still meant what I said about how I'd never turn you away for medical attention." That seemed important to say at this moment, though she wasn't sure it mattered to Tess at all. "For whatever reason, you trust me. And if I were to ignore you, or turn you away, or not even try to offer my help... that wouldn't sit well with me."

In response to Tess' second statement, she shrugged.

"Because this place is a second chance for a lot of people. Sometimes it does pan out for the better. Sometimes it doesn't. Not like life outside Paradisa is really any different in that respect..." Another beer empty, and a third one wished up. "You were given peace here. It's natural to hope on some level it might work out, even if the rest of you is just waiting for it to be over."

Edited 2014-05-26 00:55 (UTC)

"Yeah, peace," she says, almost a touch dismissive, though she knows she shouldn't be. "But I know it's never going to work out. I drove Joel away at home and don't get to change my mind –– he's gone. I'm dead –– I'm gone. Paradisa's sent him home, so that's the end of it right there. It's not going to work out, it's over."

Tess pauses, beer in one hand so she can reach up to her own face with the other. She drags the heel of her hand against her eye as if she's dislodged an eyelash or something, and she certainly doesn't acknowledge just how glassy her eyes are nor acknowledge in any way that she's tearing up –– she just passes it off as nothing, her voice level, her posture as unfriendly as always.

"I don't even need to wait for it, it's already over."

Jennifer noticed the way Tess rubbed at her eye, but was tactful enough to not say anything. It did, however, make her feel more sympathy toward the other woman. This was a side of Tess she knew rarely came out- the side that wasn't constantly on guard, not showing emotion because it was a sign of weakness, not being vulnerable.

This was a Tess she could relate to.

Jennifer wished she could see it more often. Maybe then the two of them could try and understand each other. Help each other. Be something more than the weird doctor-patient, pseudo hostage-captor situation they had right now, where Jennifer never knew from one moment to the next where they stood.

"But at least you did make use of the time the two of you had together while it lasted," she pointed out. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

Edited 2014-05-27 01:06 (UTC)

"We did," Tess replies, and the bitterness is heavy like lead on her voice. "I mean, we fought as much as ever, but it wasn't as bad as it was back home, it was about different things. But we got to live together, we got to do normal things..."

As normal as it got for them, anyway: shaking in the front hall of the apartment after being thrown into panic by firecrackers, sleeping with guns at their bedsides, arguing about contamination and infection if he so much as breathed near her right shoulder, communicating like real adults rather than uncivilized victims. That was the kind of normal that felt right, that felt okay to survive under –– just enough pressure to keep them from floundering completely.

"He's a bastard, though, leaving me with the kids like I'm his wife instead of his partner."

"Normal things," she repeated quietly, thinking of Riley, of the fact that the girl had never done such an ordinary thing as toast marshmallows and make S'mores. "Everyday things that most of us here would take for granted. You may have argued, but you still had each other."

Jennifer felt a sudden, selfish ache for home- because that sounded a bit like herself and the rest of the gang, too. They may have had their difficulties and differences, but they always had each others' backs when it came down to it.

"Even if he did leave you with them... least they seem like good kids," she said quietly. "I've spoken to Riley a few times... introduced her to toasted marshmallows at May Day. They have a chance to be kids here."

They had each other, yes, which is technically more than they had at home –– at home they were partners, but partners with different apartments, partners who argued far more than anything else. They were partners because the trust between them went further than it did with anyone else, even if they were constantly finding excuses to doubt each other, constantly looking to justify keeping each other at arm's length.

They were miserable people at home, and slightly less miserable in Paradisa.

"I don't really want kids," Tess replies. "Or at least I don't want them to be kids. I need them to be adults, I need them to be mature. I spent a lot of years handling kids for Joel 'cause he couldn't stand to be near kids suffering, and let's be real, that's basically the only kind of kid we ever saw –– I never liked it, he knew I didn't like it, but I did it anyway. But it's too much for him to leave them with me when he knows I'm not mother material."

As if Joel had any say in it at all.

The more Jennifer found out about the kind of life Tess and Joel had come from, the more she was grateful for her own live. She wasn't sure about the part where Riley and Ellie needed to be adults here, though. They were teenagers, learning how to be normal teenagers. Jennifer knew that Tess' emotions and reactions weren't up to her, though.

"Well, at least you're not alone in raising them here," Jennifer pointed out. "I'd help. And it's not like you need to be constantly watching out for them here, either."

That gets a bitter laugh.

"That's all I need. Them pissed off because I put a stranger in charge of them. Thanks, but no thanks."

She drinks deeply.

"Well, you do know what's best for all of you," Jennifer replied calmly. "But the offer stands if things ever change. I'd still like to get to know both of them better, in any case."

They'd surely need medical attention at some point, Jennifer thought, and, well- better for her to handle them than anyone else. Like you're handling things sooooo well here, right? Well, I am. To some extent. And they need someone they can trust, maybe even more than the adults do.

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EIGHTEENTH SHOT

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