LOG: [Cain, Haller] Returns
Jun. 11th, 2006 01:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe small group returns from Vietnam whole and intact -- much to someone's surprise.
Though the distant rumble of the Blackbird coming in was unmistakable, Jim didn't hurry himself. Instead of jumping to his feet he kept his attention on the screen, finished his thought, saved the file, and turned off his laptop. There. Work done, or at least at a place he could afford to stop. All set.
Eyes closed, one breath, two. Deep and even against the quiet of his office, just like he'd been taught.
Okay.
Down to the hangar now, moving like a man underwater. He didn't know why this should hit him so hard. He was used to it. People left. It was unequivocal fact. Just the same choking thread that had been woven in and out of his life, all his life, time and time again. What was one more? Jim wasn't sure why he was even bothering to confirm this most recent continuation for himself. From the instant he'd seen Cyttorak burning like a malignant star across the astral plane all illusions had left him. Still, his access codes were relatively new. He might as well use them.
The stainless steel of the door gleamed liquid under the fluorescence of the hall as he punched in the last digit. It whispered open into the space of the hangar and the round, pungent smell of fuel, the low, sleek form of the Blackbird at rest, engines already beginning to cool, and . . .
. . . Cain?
Cain clapped Sam on the back, laughing loudly as they walked across the hangar floor. A quick stop in Hungary thanks to Wanda's encyclopedic knowledge of eastern European bars had turned into an impromptu party and celebration of life as Cain toasted his friends well into the early hours.
Once they had reconstituted themselves, the Blackbird was headed home with a distinct vow of "We shall not mention this to Scott - ever".
Across the hangar floor, Cain saw Haller standing in the doorframe, and waved off the other three who were setting up the post-flight checks. He strode confidently over to the younger man, raising a hand in greeting. "Howdy, Dave. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Um."
On some level Jim knew relief was the appropriate response, but gears were definitely grinding. No way. No way. The astral presence of that thing alone almost boiled my brain out through my ears. He'd made his peace. I did. Except he . . . now he's . . . how . . .
"Hi," Jim said weakly. "So . . . so did you have a good trip?" Grind, grind, grind.
"Had better," Cain admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But did what needed to be done, and we're all home safe."
He thought on that for a while, nodding. "Yeah, I'm home. What, this comes as some kinda surprise? Have a little faith in your elders, kid." He nudged Haller's shoulder playfully. "Some of us know what we're doing."
"Good. That's, that's good." He came back. Jim looked up at the wide, smug grin -- the only one he'd ever physically had to look up to in years -- and felt a smile of his own moving to meet it. "It's . . . good."
Cain perused Haller's expression for a bit, cocking his head. "Okay, who else wasn't expecting me back? Don't tell me I threw off someone's betting pool."
Before Haller could answer, Cain threw an arm over his shoulders, escorting him from the hangar. "Okay, so there I was, facing down a god..."
Though the distant rumble of the Blackbird coming in was unmistakable, Jim didn't hurry himself. Instead of jumping to his feet he kept his attention on the screen, finished his thought, saved the file, and turned off his laptop. There. Work done, or at least at a place he could afford to stop. All set.
Eyes closed, one breath, two. Deep and even against the quiet of his office, just like he'd been taught.
Okay.
Down to the hangar now, moving like a man underwater. He didn't know why this should hit him so hard. He was used to it. People left. It was unequivocal fact. Just the same choking thread that had been woven in and out of his life, all his life, time and time again. What was one more? Jim wasn't sure why he was even bothering to confirm this most recent continuation for himself. From the instant he'd seen Cyttorak burning like a malignant star across the astral plane all illusions had left him. Still, his access codes were relatively new. He might as well use them.
The stainless steel of the door gleamed liquid under the fluorescence of the hall as he punched in the last digit. It whispered open into the space of the hangar and the round, pungent smell of fuel, the low, sleek form of the Blackbird at rest, engines already beginning to cool, and . . .
. . . Cain?
Cain clapped Sam on the back, laughing loudly as they walked across the hangar floor. A quick stop in Hungary thanks to Wanda's encyclopedic knowledge of eastern European bars had turned into an impromptu party and celebration of life as Cain toasted his friends well into the early hours.
Once they had reconstituted themselves, the Blackbird was headed home with a distinct vow of "We shall not mention this to Scott - ever".
Across the hangar floor, Cain saw Haller standing in the doorframe, and waved off the other three who were setting up the post-flight checks. He strode confidently over to the younger man, raising a hand in greeting. "Howdy, Dave. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Um."
On some level Jim knew relief was the appropriate response, but gears were definitely grinding. No way. No way. The astral presence of that thing alone almost boiled my brain out through my ears. He'd made his peace. I did. Except he . . . now he's . . . how . . .
"Hi," Jim said weakly. "So . . . so did you have a good trip?" Grind, grind, grind.
"Had better," Cain admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But did what needed to be done, and we're all home safe."
He thought on that for a while, nodding. "Yeah, I'm home. What, this comes as some kinda surprise? Have a little faith in your elders, kid." He nudged Haller's shoulder playfully. "Some of us know what we're doing."
"Good. That's, that's good." He came back. Jim looked up at the wide, smug grin -- the only one he'd ever physically had to look up to in years -- and felt a smile of his own moving to meet it. "It's . . . good."
Cain perused Haller's expression for a bit, cocking his head. "Okay, who else wasn't expecting me back? Don't tell me I threw off someone's betting pool."
Before Haller could answer, Cain threw an arm over his shoulders, escorting him from the hangar. "Okay, so there I was, facing down a god..."
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