xp_logs | Doug and Marie-Ange

Doug comes down to Marie-Ange's apartment and they have a discussion about Dr. Horrible, Batman, and their jobs.

Marie-Ange had the door unlocked, except for the deadbolt that Doug
had the key for, and was in her kitchen, actually, for once, using
some of the appliances. One of the appliances. The microwave. It
counted. Warm pita bread and the honey butter she'd gotten for
muffins, and it smelled good, even if -she- wasn't hungry herself.
Food, especally food that required the use of fingers kept the hands
busy - if Doug was going to fidget, and she suspected he would, it was
best with something that could also provide him some comfort instead
of agitating him further.

"It -feels- the same," Doug said dejectedly as he walked in to
Marie-Ange's apartment. He crossed directly to the couch and sat down
at the end. Flopping dramatically felt like it would be too much
effort. "I don't get it. It was funny and light-hearted right up
until the point that it wasn't. I mean, it's Joss Whedon. You'd
think we'd all be used to it by now."

The microwave went bling, the cheerful sound entirely discordant with
Doug's mood and Marie-Ange's quiet, and then for a short time, the
only sounds were the clink of plates and silverware, and then
Marie-Ange came out to her living room and set a plate of pitas and a
small container of butter, and a knife on the low coffee table. "He
did tell us, in the second act, what was likely to happen." She sat
down next to Doug on the couch and rested a hand on his leg.

"What happens when all that's left is darkness?" Doug asked quietly.
"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a
villain." He frowned. "Are those the only options?"

"The world is not black and white. You know that. We all know
that." Marie-Ange sat up, pulling her feet up and tucking them under
her. "People who do not know that.. they do not last very long,
those people. They could not, either the world changes them, or" Her
face grew solemn. "The world changes them, one way or another."

Doug pulled his own legs up onto the couch, but tucked his knees under
his chin instead of folding them under him. "I identify with the end
of it," he said after a moment's thought. "Like the world sees Dr.
Horrible now, but inside there's Billy, who's lost and confused." He
waved a hand. "And I know I'm maybe being a bit melodramatic."

"Are you going to get a set of goggles and white rain boots?"
Marie-Ange asked as she leaned forward to get the plate of pitas, and
handed it off to Doug. "You could just be direct, and say what you
mean, yes? Because I am not sure if you are talking about the
internet... television... musical... or the Batman movie or your job
or me.. I am very confused. On the inside and the outside. Not like
a pie at all."

"I am not entirely sure I know either," Doug admitted. "A little of
all of it, maybe. Mostly it's that I identify a little too much with
some of the psychoanalysis parts of both productions, I think." He
picked up a pita and ate it somewhat mechanically.

With small neat motions, Marie-Ange tore one of the pitas into small
pieces, buttering them individually before eating them. "Sofia is
going to shake her head at you a lot." She said, smirking a bit.
"This is about your job? Our jobs both? What worries you? What are you
thinking about?"

"How Remy says that the job makes us...broken, eventually." Doug
scratched the back of his neck. "I don't want to be Remy in ten
years. But at the same time, I think the job we do is important, and
that it isn't something I could just give up. There's got to be a
middle ground, right?" he asked. "Like you just said, things aren't
black and white."

"Remy was broken to start with. So was Pete, and I think even Betsy."
Marie-Ange answered, after a very long period of silence. "I .. it..
I think..." She started and stopped several times, and finally set
her plate down, and turned to look at Doug. "It changes us, yes. I am
not the person I was when I first came here. I am also not the person
I was when I first arrived at school, or the person I was before I
knew I was a mutant. "

"I think Remy sometimes has this idea that...I dunno, I'm too good for
the job or something. I don't really understand it, like sometimes
he's almost trying to talk me out of it or something." Doug turned
his plate around several times before setting it on the table and
folding his hands in his lap. "Mostly...I'm just confused. And not
really sure what to think right now."

Her first instinct was to defend Doug to himself, and then to defend
Remy. "Do you think you are too good for the job?" Marie-Ange finally
asked, mirroring Doug's words. "Do you think any worse of Sarah, or
Amanda, for having to kill? Or of me, for choosing to? I could have
waited for Pete and Betsy and Sarah to worry and come find us in New
Mexico. I considered it."

"I don't think any worse of you." Doug paused and bit his lip. "I
would have killed Dr. Farouk, if it came down to it." It was
something he hadn't entirely come to grips with or talked about with
anyone, even Sofia. But there it was, and the act of saying it made
it a bit more real to him.

Marie-Ange never expected to feel relief at someone saying that they
would've killed someone. And the expression on Doug's face pushed the
brief moment of relief out of her mind almost as soon as she realized
what it was. "You are worried about you? Being broken, like Remy
thinks, or ending up.. " She closed her eyes briefly, remembering
the end of the show they had watched. "Not feeling? Having to stop
feeling because of what you have to do?"

"Losing my humanity" seemed like the simplest and best way to sum up
his worries. It was what the entire conversation really boiled down
to, his fear of losing something vital in the course of doing a job he
felt was worth doing.

Twisting around, Marie-Ange stretched out on the sofa, with her head
resting on Doug's thigh. "I wish I had an answer to tell you. I worry
about it too. I worry about what will happen when I have to do more
than kill an old sick man, or someone who is trying to kill me. I am
glad I did not have to kill Dr. Farouk. I am even more glad you did
not have to." She frowned, and looked up at Doug. "I think.. we
have each other. Not just you and I, but all of us. Mark and Amanda
and Sofia and Wanda, and we all check up on each other. Even Jubilee,
and Illyana in her own way." A way she didn't understand, and wasn't
sure she wanted to.

"Like a family. A family that you sometimes want to punch in the
face, but family." Doug stroked Marie-Ange's hair as he pondered
that, and decided that he could live with it.