xp_logs | North and Felicia: Trust

Felicia paused in front of the door North's apartment, listening to the noises coming from inside. They'd both been working, generally the same continent, but never close enough to actually see each other alone, and she was on about twelve hours of travel time at this point, after a week of a productive but ultimately unremarkable acquisitions job wrapped around mansion check ins. Literally all she wanted right now was a bath, a bottle of wine, and to no longer be wearing these pants, but first, she needed to drop off the hand milled set of vintage style clock gears she'd found, and having to make small talk with whoever thought it was a good idea to hang out in his room while he was away just seemed like so much work right now.

Steeling herself, she shoved the door open with her shoulder, rolling carry-on in hand on her other side and smiled at the sight that greeted her. "You're back already."

A glass of wine replaced her carry-on handle, which North rolled to behind the couch after dropping a quick peck to her cheek.

"Long flight," he remarked as he settled back on the couch, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table and unpausing the documentary he had playing on Netflix. He had a three-day scruff going for him just then, but looked freshly showered and comfortable in sweatpants he was certain she had paid too much money for. "Dinner is almost ready but you have time for a shower if you want."

Coat somehow already disposed of on a nearby chair, Felicia was now attempting to wrangle off her sweater, wine glass still in hand. The oversized nature let her pull it over one handed from the back of her neck, slipping one sleeve, transferring the glass over, and then slipping the other, and she took a sip as a reward. It was also the answer regarding her trip. The sweater landed on the floor; her pants probably weren’t far behind.

“You started without me,” she admonished playfully. “All that water wasted.”

"You were not supposed to be home until tomorrow," he pointed out cheerfully, fingers loosely cradling the stem of his near empty glass as he watched her shuck off her clothes. "Your social media tipped me off too late."

Felicia made a noise of acquiesce into her glass, which had somehow tipped back again and she was taking a large swallow from. It landed on the console table when she finished as she walked by, heading to the bathroom and scalding hot water. "Like you don't have a tracker in me. One of those little ones you can slip into food. I knew there was a reason you kept making dinner, no one likes to cook that much."

North was still on the couch with a full glass of wine when she re-emerged, towel dried hair still damp and in the soft, but very short robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. His coffee table, though, now sported two placemats, bowls and an inviting pot of steaming soup. His smile was lazy as she approached. "Feel better?"

"Immensely," she replied, fond as she settled beside him and kissed his jaw. "You should be a post flight upgrade."

He wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders and tipped them both onto the couch, somehow managing not to spill the glass of wine and hand it off to her in the process. "I will send you my invoice."

"I will probably not pay it," Felicia said, nuzzling him just under where she kissed him, and then leaning back into his shoulder. Another mouthful of wine, followed by a sigh, as if releasing a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "And what nightmare documentary are you watching tonight?"

"Planet Earth," he pressed a kiss to her hair. "The dulcet tones of David Attenborough's voice is hardly nightmare material."

"We need to get you some fish or something," Felicia said, clearly not understanding, but also not demanding he change the channel. "One of those whale music CDs. The fireplace channel? Something actually soothing. I always assume you're going to be watching something on serial killers or something."

He shrugged the shoulder she was not resting on, gaze flicking back to the screen. It was the deep sea episode. The deep sea, in his opinion, was far more terrifying than serial killers on any given day. "We do not need watch a television program for that," he pointed out.

"Fair enough," she admitted. Felicia sat her glass down on a side table, just in reach, letting herself be warm and still against him. "I suppose those specials do lose something given our occupation. We should file a complaint with HR."

He hummed his agreement and wrapped an arm around her, fingers absentmindedly stroking the fabric of her shirt. "I'll get the paperwork ready."

"Was that foreplay?" she asked, teasing, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. The likely amazing soup was getting cold but. “Fiscal budget. Pivot tables. Benefit versus risk analysis?”

"Oh, yes. Do keep going." The corners of his lips quirked upwards as he poked her in the side. "After you eat."

"Booooo, tease," she said, but was already sitting up as she did so, reaching, with the knowledge that there was no point arguing when he got like this. She doled out a portion, handing it to him, before making herself one. "You'd better be eating, too."

North took the bowl without argument, but with a tell-tale glint in his eyes and a slight wrinkle to the corners of his eyes. The opening was right there for him to make a dirty joke, but he wisely chose not to take it, knowing full well how easily she would be distracted from dinner. "There is pie in the oven," he said instead. "And ice cream in the fridge, though I am afraid Jubilation wiped out the last batch you bought."

Felicia blew on her soup instead of immediately responding, looking up at him. "Thank you for this. It's nice."

"The pleasure," he said, the hint of fondness in his tone easily missed. "Is all mine."

;

The light was still that not quite right yellow grey colour when Felicia started awake, as if it hadn't fully woken up either. She momentarily wasn't sure what had pulled her out of sleep, or where she was - not home but not a hotel, not right but not wrong, her sheets but not her detergent - and in trying to puzzle it out found herself startled a second time when the body next to hers jolted again, twisting the sheets further around himself and leaving her bare legs cold.

"North?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was his bedroom, her own room apparently too far, and she could still see her clothes from her flight draped over her suitcase, like they needed a defence against wrinkles and weren't going straight into the wash. Felicia tried again. "...David?"

He did not respond, clearly not awake. His body was tensed, muscles straining against the bedsheets holding him captive as his head thrashed from side to side. Perspiration formed, gathered and dripped down the sides of his face as he suffered some unknown torment without a single whisper escaping clenched teeth.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open to reveal blood shot eyes, a milky film obscuring the usual blue of his irises.

Felicia stilled, holding her breath as if walking past a graveyard on a particularly foggy day and not wanting to attract trouble. She eventually tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, fingertips whisper soft as she drew it down his arm in what she hoped was a grounding, soothing, motion. "I'm never sure if you can hear me like this but. I'm still here. Hi," she said, haltingly. "You're safe in bed, it's going to be okay."

North gasped, hands reaching up to grasp at his throat, clearly struggling to draw breath though his head slowly stilled, unseeing eyes shifting to stare in Felicia's general direction. He had not made much noise throughout the ordeal, clearly used to remain quiet through the agony.

Finally, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he slowly sank back into the now-drenched bed, muscles unfurling until he lay limp in the crumpled sheets. As his eyes regained its usual cornflower blue, the spy let his gaze linger on his companion for a few more moments before throwing an arm up across his face to block her from view.

"Sorry," he murmured, hoarser than he would admit. He wanted to -- probably should -- explain that it was a powers malfunction, but North suddenly felt too tired to bother as his brain continued the arduous task of shifting through the visions he had received without warning, prompting or desire.

"No, it's. It's fine," Felicia stumbled, shifting on the bed to tuck her ankles under her. Her hand floated awkwardly between them where she'd pulled it back but hadn't quite let it rest at her side, and in the half light she could see harsh lines at North's throat where he'd been trying to pull the trapped air from himself. She didn't touch. "Would you like some water?"

He shook his head, wetting bloodless lips with his tongue as he noticed a vision that was startlingly similar to a memory from a past he never wanted to acknowledge again. Not all visions then -- past events from this world? Yet there was a recurring and very persistent vision of a bone-chilling darkness and inescapable suffocation he was almost certain was a foretelling. Well. It looked like drowning was going to be an experience in his near future.

North exhaled a quiet swear, forcing the air from his lungs before dragging in another long, slow breath , repeating the simple meditation exercise until his pulse had slowed to an acceptable level. When yet another wave of images hit without warning, the precog grimaced.

It was going to be one of those long sessions, he could tell.

"You-- I should go," he said, when he finally gathered enough wherewithall to drop his arm and sit up, the reel of images still playing at the back of his head.

Felicia fell back, almost comical in her uncharacteristic confused look, and looked over at the clock on his bedside table - one of the ones actually ticking, instead of being worked on or displayed - and it's late hour, then back at him. "What? But it's- where?" she asked, the overwhelming feeling that she needed to cover herself rolling over her like nausea.

"The office," he said, gaze lowered to his trembling hands. "I'm sorry," he repeated heavily, as if the apology was a spell that would quell the terror rebuilding in his chest. It didn't work. He needed to leave before she could see... how fucking scared he was. At what? He couldn't tell you for the world. "It's not a big deal. I just saw something that I need to handle."

North could swear he literally felt his brain contract as he got off the bed and snatched up his crumpled jeans from the ground, not once looking in her direction.

"It's okay," Felicia said, fighting to keep the sadness out of her voice, grateful she didn't have to remove it from her face as well. She slid off the bed, pulling her sweater over her head, made into a makeshift dress with a quick tug at the hem, and efficiently stuffed the rest of her outfit into the top of her carry on, her back towards him. "Don't rush on my account, I'll go."

"No, please. Just go back to bed," he rasped, startled enough that hazy blue eyes sharpened in a moment of clarity as North finally turned, shirt still crumpled in his fist. "Felicia--"

"It's okay, sweetheart. I get it," she repeated, blinking a few times before taking a breath and facing him, soft smile in place. "Just. Sorry for the bad timing, but if I don't say this now I don't know when I will, so."

"I want to be with you. And I know that wasn't part of our deal, but at some point I realized it was just you and I didn't mind and I think I need... I need for you to decide if you want to be with me too." Felicia looked away, clearing her throat and then back again, and gave him a quick smile before pulling up the handle of her luggage and turning to the door.

"I'll see you later, David."

He wanted to ask her to stay. He should ask her to stay. But he could barely see straight and she should not have to deal with him in this state. No one should.

North's internal debate was quickly rendered moot by the door clicking shut behind Felicia, the quiet sound practically echoing into the oppressive silence. A strangled half-gurgle, half-growl stuck to the insides of his throat and choked him on his next breath, and when the main door slammed shut seconds later, what trifling tendril of control he had left on his powers slipped through his tenuous grasp and away into the ether.

A vast emptiness and profound tenebrosity descended heavily upon him, around him, against him... engulfing him once again in hopelessness and frigid terror as he slowly folded himself onto the floor, fingers digging painfully into his skull.

Control was not the only thing he was losing tonight, he realised with dismay.

God, he fucking hated drowning. It had to be the worst way to die.