Mark, Amanda - Sunday morning
Nov. 5th, 2006 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAwaiting the boarding call for their flight back to New York, Mark's taking things hard.
Mark normally didn't mind airports so much. Whereas Doug would be huddling up in a corner with a brown paper bag, Mark was usually sitting back and looking forward to the flight. It was a little bit different now, though. Now Mark was sitting at the bar kicking back drink number . . . he couldn't remember, come to think of it. He'd be a handful when they landed in JFK, he'd come to realize, but the pleasant drunken fog was too pleasing and numbing to make him care about anything.
For her part, Amanda had been quiet. Withdrawn, almost, using her 'on the job' persona almost like a shield. Now, catching sight of Mark determinedly obliterating his consciousness at the bar, she internally winced. Welcome to X-Force, mate.
It was the mask of professionalism that pushed her to take a seat next to him, quietly ordering a stupidly expensive beer. Someone had to talk to him, if only so they didn't have to carry him onto the plane. Besides, he was her friend. And if this disaster had reinforced anything, it was that not talking leads to Bad Things.
"Ta," she said to the barman, as the beer was set down in front of her. She took a sip, making a face. American shite. At last, she glanced at Mark. "You might want to go a bit easy on those. They won't let you on the plane if you're hammered."
"Then I'll wait it out and charge another ticket on the expense account," he replied, speaking slowly yet clearly. He was obviously a master of holding his liqour. "Anyway, don't you want to celebrate? We done good. Very Buffy of us."
"We saved the world from demon invasion, yeah. But I don't think anyone wants to celebrate." Amanda glanced over at the rest of the group, scattered throughout the departure lounge. "There wasn't any other option, but it doesn't mean it wasn't a shitty one."
Mark stared into the clear liquid in his glass. "I wasn't ready for this," he admitted. "I... he was a kid. He shouldn't've made that decision. We shouldn't've let him."
Amanda sighed, suddenly very tired. "No, he shouldn't have had to make the decision. The thing is..." Here she paused, searching for the words. "He made his choice the second he used that book instead of asking for help. He made a choice that basically meant no-one could help him." Having a larger gulp of beer, she continued. "Same as my mate Charlie did when he killed himself last year. Same as I did when I decided going over to Selene was the only way I could get the help I needed. Sometimes you have to take responsibility for the choices you make, even when you're a stupid sixteen year old kid with no clue of what you're getting yourself into."
"I refuse to believe that was the only choice available," Mark declared rather loudly, slamming a fist down on the bar. "There's nothing even left of him anymore. I went to tell Eddie this morning... I've never felt so hated in my whole life. And I can't blame her for wantin' ta kill the messenger." He shrugged and downed the rest of his vodka. "Part because I wasn't just the messenger. I promised her I'd help him, and instead I got 'im killed."
Heads turned at the thump, then turned away again. Just a boyfriend and girlfriend having a travelling tiff. "And that's why we don't make promises, not in this game," Amanda replied, more ruthlessly than she felt. They had failed, because Josh was dead. But she'd gone over it a hundred times and still couldn't see another solution. "You might refuse to believe it was the only choice, Mark, but I went through that summoning spell forwards, backwards and bloody sideways. The spell was pretty clear - as soon as he summoned those things, he was fucked. It was him or the whole fucking town, going the way those five kids did. With us first, since we were in the way. The thing about magic is, there's always a fucking price. And if you aren't prepared to pay it, then you shouldn't be anywhere near it."
"He was just a kid," Mark repeated, like a mantra. Or a lifeline. He couldn't care less about prices, about magic, about relative right and wrong if this was the price that they had to pay. "Fucking piece of shit."
"And so were the others. They're just as dead," Amanda said softly, and then drained her beer. "There's no answers to this one, mate. Nothing that'll make us feel better about it. But that's what we signed up for." She shrugged, a tired, fatalistic movement. "Make an appointment with the Ice Queen when we get back. If you don't, I'll grass you up to her and make sure you get one."
"My continued employment kinda depends on that, doesn't it? Can't stay on the team and keep doin' this shit if I don't." Mark reached into his pocket to get his wallet and pay for the drinks. "Y'know, when Remy said we don't always do good things but we always do Good with a big G, I didn't think he had this in mind."
"I don't think any of us did." The kicker was, things wouldn't have been that different even if they hadn't gone. The book sitting in her bag, awaiting destruction under Strange's instructions, that was the only difference. Josh would still be as dead. "C'mon, I think that's our boarding call."
Mark normally didn't mind airports so much. Whereas Doug would be huddling up in a corner with a brown paper bag, Mark was usually sitting back and looking forward to the flight. It was a little bit different now, though. Now Mark was sitting at the bar kicking back drink number . . . he couldn't remember, come to think of it. He'd be a handful when they landed in JFK, he'd come to realize, but the pleasant drunken fog was too pleasing and numbing to make him care about anything.
For her part, Amanda had been quiet. Withdrawn, almost, using her 'on the job' persona almost like a shield. Now, catching sight of Mark determinedly obliterating his consciousness at the bar, she internally winced. Welcome to X-Force, mate.
It was the mask of professionalism that pushed her to take a seat next to him, quietly ordering a stupidly expensive beer. Someone had to talk to him, if only so they didn't have to carry him onto the plane. Besides, he was her friend. And if this disaster had reinforced anything, it was that not talking leads to Bad Things.
"Ta," she said to the barman, as the beer was set down in front of her. She took a sip, making a face. American shite. At last, she glanced at Mark. "You might want to go a bit easy on those. They won't let you on the plane if you're hammered."
"Then I'll wait it out and charge another ticket on the expense account," he replied, speaking slowly yet clearly. He was obviously a master of holding his liqour. "Anyway, don't you want to celebrate? We done good. Very Buffy of us."
"We saved the world from demon invasion, yeah. But I don't think anyone wants to celebrate." Amanda glanced over at the rest of the group, scattered throughout the departure lounge. "There wasn't any other option, but it doesn't mean it wasn't a shitty one."
Mark stared into the clear liquid in his glass. "I wasn't ready for this," he admitted. "I... he was a kid. He shouldn't've made that decision. We shouldn't've let him."
Amanda sighed, suddenly very tired. "No, he shouldn't have had to make the decision. The thing is..." Here she paused, searching for the words. "He made his choice the second he used that book instead of asking for help. He made a choice that basically meant no-one could help him." Having a larger gulp of beer, she continued. "Same as my mate Charlie did when he killed himself last year. Same as I did when I decided going over to Selene was the only way I could get the help I needed. Sometimes you have to take responsibility for the choices you make, even when you're a stupid sixteen year old kid with no clue of what you're getting yourself into."
"I refuse to believe that was the only choice available," Mark declared rather loudly, slamming a fist down on the bar. "There's nothing even left of him anymore. I went to tell Eddie this morning... I've never felt so hated in my whole life. And I can't blame her for wantin' ta kill the messenger." He shrugged and downed the rest of his vodka. "Part because I wasn't just the messenger. I promised her I'd help him, and instead I got 'im killed."
Heads turned at the thump, then turned away again. Just a boyfriend and girlfriend having a travelling tiff. "And that's why we don't make promises, not in this game," Amanda replied, more ruthlessly than she felt. They had failed, because Josh was dead. But she'd gone over it a hundred times and still couldn't see another solution. "You might refuse to believe it was the only choice, Mark, but I went through that summoning spell forwards, backwards and bloody sideways. The spell was pretty clear - as soon as he summoned those things, he was fucked. It was him or the whole fucking town, going the way those five kids did. With us first, since we were in the way. The thing about magic is, there's always a fucking price. And if you aren't prepared to pay it, then you shouldn't be anywhere near it."
"He was just a kid," Mark repeated, like a mantra. Or a lifeline. He couldn't care less about prices, about magic, about relative right and wrong if this was the price that they had to pay. "Fucking piece of shit."
"And so were the others. They're just as dead," Amanda said softly, and then drained her beer. "There's no answers to this one, mate. Nothing that'll make us feel better about it. But that's what we signed up for." She shrugged, a tired, fatalistic movement. "Make an appointment with the Ice Queen when we get back. If you don't, I'll grass you up to her and make sure you get one."
"My continued employment kinda depends on that, doesn't it? Can't stay on the team and keep doin' this shit if I don't." Mark reached into his pocket to get his wallet and pay for the drinks. "Y'know, when Remy said we don't always do good things but we always do Good with a big G, I didn't think he had this in mind."
"I don't think any of us did." The kicker was, things wouldn't have been that different even if they hadn't gone. The book sitting in her bag, awaiting destruction under Strange's instructions, that was the only difference. Josh would still be as dead. "C'mon, I think that's our boarding call."
