doug & darcy | maybe it was egos swinging
Oct. 22nd, 2022 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter Kane's visit, Darcy texts Doug to come over.
TW: Minor self-harm
Darcy wasn't sure how long she sat slumped against the door to her suite after Garrison left. Ten, maybe thirty, probably not quite an hour before she was moving around the living area, tidying on autopilot. She poured another drink. Drained it. Sent her emails to Kevin and Ange, then texted Doug. There was no point in paying attention to the amount left in the bottle, she just wanted the damn warmth from the drink to spread from her throat into all the places where the numbness had settled.
She poured another drink in a fresh glass, and left it on the table next to Garrison's report. Another for herself, and left the last shot or two in the bottle capped but on the table. She needed—right, a note, and then a shower, as hot as possible, anything to warm her through. A bright blue post-it "READ ME" and she shuffled into her room, shucking her clothes and finishing off her drink as she stepped under the scalding water.
Doug had gone straight from reading the text to Darcy's room. He rapped at the door, but finding it ajar and hearing the spray from the shower, he let himself in and then shut the door behind him. The bright post-it caught his attention, and he picked up the report and began reading it as instructed. By a few paragraphs in, the glass was in his hand without him consciously remembering picking it up. By halfway, the glass had been emptied and set down against the possibility of Doug cracking it in his grip. He finished reading, set it back down, and let out a long, drawn out 'fuck'.
Standing under the shower wasn't helping her warm up, Darcy noted, the thought a fleeting, distant thing in her mind. The frozen, jagged edges of her self-control were splintering apart, leaving behind the anger that she normally kept tightly under wraps. Her fist hit the tiles, a series of dull thuds echoing as she kept punching, mad at the other woman, mad at herself, pissed that people she cared about were hurt—would keep being hurt—because of the whole fucking situation. A splash of red smeared the tiles as skin split, and Darcy sank to her knees, opening her mouth to let out a shriek of rage.
A sharp, gasping sob burst out instead, echoing throughout the bathroom and room as she lost her final bit of control, leaving her head bowed and shoulders shaking as the flood of grief and anger consumed her.
The thud of fists over the sound of water had Doug running toward the bathroom. He hesitated just outside, though, torn between his desire to make sure Darcy wasn't in danger, but also knowing that at a precarious time like this, being too smothering could cause worse problems. "Darce?" he called out after the first sob broke the dam. "Can I come in?" He wanted to give her as much agency and room for control as he could, because he was betting she felt like she had almost none at the moment.
"Please." It was a quiet, choking request from the corner of the shower she'd curled into, hair a wet mess surrounding her as the ends scrunched against the floor tiles. She desperately wanted the comfort of someone who understood, who'd faced the hurricane of Laurie Collins giving you affection just to snatch it away—who would, perhaps, understand the conflicting mess of her emotions as she weathered this storm. She hadn't promised him she wouldn't run away after the first time, and she wouldn't promise it, but there was no concern that either of them had her malevolent presence lingering in their minds outside from a lot of memories that mixed the good with the shitty.
Doug was already peeling his shirt over his head as he opened the door. He dropped his phone and various other pocket items on top of it. Shoes and socks were the only other items that made it off of him before he was in the shower, sitting down at Darcy's side and putting a gentle arm over her shoulders. Wet clothes were less important than her.
Darcy turned her head as she felt Doug's arm settle around her, burying her face into the warm skin just above his heart. Salty tears mingled with the warm water as her shoulders shook, sobs and hiccuping breaths muffled by his body. The minutes passed slowly as her tears slowly dried up, until all that was left was the occasional hitched breaths trying and failing to turn back into the full-blown mess of crying. Her nose and throat were still thick from the aftermath as she finally brought an arm up, reaching around Doug as best as she could and clinging tightly to him. "I should've killed her," she muttered, voice angry and words slightly slurred. "I knew. I fucking knew—FUCK—" her voice got increasingly loud, free fist slamming into the tiles beside her as she broke off, the curse still ringing around the room. "We tried to give her the whole fucking world, and this is our repayment?"
Doug felt a slight quiver, almost an agitation in the arm that was curled around Darcy's shoulders - the right arm. Perhaps the nanites were picking up on Darcy's emotional state, or Doug's fervent wish that he could somehow make things better for Darcy. Sending a brief feeling of comfort to the 'friendos' also served to let him center himself as well. "It's much easier to kill someone on a mission, someone you know deserves it," he told her slowly. "It's much harder to kill someone you've been close to." "you know, I think I will taunt you to death..." "Would this be an easier thing if she wasn't out there doing whatever her complete lack of ethics have decided is a good idea? Absolutely." He squeezed Darcy close. "But we can't control her, or even fix her. It means something that we tried to help her, though."
A flash of warmth traced up Doug's arm, too fast for Darcy to catch the meaning. She was still off-kilter, feelings in an aggressive tangle with her thoughts and actions. "She does deserve it now though, doesn't she? I've read reports about what Essex has done. She told me about Genosha in vague terms, and Ka—Garrison filled me in more tonight." Her voice was flat. She hadn't quite retreated into that task-oriented, robotic mindset that she tended to revert to in a crisis, but it was close. "So she knew what Essex had done. Could do. And still... she went to him. Worked with him. Hid it, even from me. And now she's blaming us for everything bad in her life, and wanting to kill us for it."
Darcy shook her head, disgusted. "Can't even own up to her screw-ups, like some second-rate villain in a TV drama." She reached to turn the shower off, finally noticing the blood running down her hand. "Oh. I should probably bandage that. Can we move out of the shower? I didn't plan on having this conversation here." 'Or at all tonight, probably,' she admitted to herself, though she felt marginally better with Doug here.
"That's a really good idea." Doug had definitely been concerned about the bleeding hand and cracked tile, but those had been sort of secondary items after making sure Darcy wasn't going to spiral further. He turned off the faucet and leaned out to grab several towels. Thank goodness he tended to keep some spare underwear and the like in Darcy's room, because his pants and underclothes were definitely sodden.
Darcy leaned against the wall listlessly as Doug stripped out of his sodden clothing and dried himself off, stepping into his arms and a dry towel as soon as he held it out, the fight—the anger—mostly drained out of her for the moment. "Think I'm gonna need you to do the bandaging part, it's kinda hard with just the one hand," she remarked dully once she was mostly dry. "Kit's under the sink, should have everything we need in it."
Doug was pretty sure every member of X-Force (and possibly everyone at the mansion who regularly put themselves in harm's way, for that matter) kept a well-stocked first aid kit somewhere in their living space. They were probably all suited to their owners, as well - Marie-Ange's was heavy on the migraine prevention and treatment, for example, though her migraines were fewer and farther between these days. Darcy's was well stocked and well organized, and Doug fished out some antiseptic to clean the wound, sterile gauze, and heavy-duty medical tape. He bandaged her up, quickly but gently, and started to nudge her toward her bedroom where he dug soft and well-worn underwear and sleep clothes out of her dresser and passed them over while grabbing his own underwear and shorts out of a corner of the drawer he had stashed them in.
Darcy pulled the shirt over her head with a wince, dropping the rest to the floor before carefully sliding under the covers. She waited for Doug to get settled and curled into him, bandaged hand resting on his chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For no—for coming. I know it's a lot. I'm a lot. Wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to keep your distance from this instead. She hurt you too."
"And I'm not a lot?" Doug asked, the tiniest bit of gentle teasing. "I mean, I know I've told you the story about me and water and the reason I started seeing Doc Grim in the first place." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder enough to provide physical comfort, but loose enough that Darcy could pull back if she needed to. "Plus, you were here for the whole 'I got my arm burned off below the elbow' thing and that aftermath..." He shrugged. "Yeah, she hurt me too, which is why I want to make sure we -both- find our way through this. I'd be a shitty partner if I just let you suffer while dealing with my own shit."
Darcy gave him a weak smile. "Have to put your own oxygen mask on first," she replied. "And you deserve to know that she's--" her hand did a vague wave in the general direction of the table she'd left Garrison's report on. "Doing that. Become that. Without being at work when you find out, wondering if the reason I'm not there is because I ran again." She pressed closer, mostly buried under the blankets. "Needing time to process that isn't... it's understandable if you do. There's a reason I've already told Kevin and Ange I won't be in Monday. Take the day with me? We can just be cozy in here. Or we can go up to your room. As long as I can have plenty of blankets to stay warm."
Doug nodded and kissed the top of Darcy's head. "Taking a day sounds like a good idea." He'd make sure to touch base with Marie-Ange. But later. And maybe move his next appointment with Dr. Grim up sooner.
TW: Minor self-harm
Darcy wasn't sure how long she sat slumped against the door to her suite after Garrison left. Ten, maybe thirty, probably not quite an hour before she was moving around the living area, tidying on autopilot. She poured another drink. Drained it. Sent her emails to Kevin and Ange, then texted Doug. There was no point in paying attention to the amount left in the bottle, she just wanted the damn warmth from the drink to spread from her throat into all the places where the numbness had settled.
She poured another drink in a fresh glass, and left it on the table next to Garrison's report. Another for herself, and left the last shot or two in the bottle capped but on the table. She needed—right, a note, and then a shower, as hot as possible, anything to warm her through. A bright blue post-it "READ ME" and she shuffled into her room, shucking her clothes and finishing off her drink as she stepped under the scalding water.
Doug had gone straight from reading the text to Darcy's room. He rapped at the door, but finding it ajar and hearing the spray from the shower, he let himself in and then shut the door behind him. The bright post-it caught his attention, and he picked up the report and began reading it as instructed. By a few paragraphs in, the glass was in his hand without him consciously remembering picking it up. By halfway, the glass had been emptied and set down against the possibility of Doug cracking it in his grip. He finished reading, set it back down, and let out a long, drawn out 'fuck'.
Standing under the shower wasn't helping her warm up, Darcy noted, the thought a fleeting, distant thing in her mind. The frozen, jagged edges of her self-control were splintering apart, leaving behind the anger that she normally kept tightly under wraps. Her fist hit the tiles, a series of dull thuds echoing as she kept punching, mad at the other woman, mad at herself, pissed that people she cared about were hurt—would keep being hurt—because of the whole fucking situation. A splash of red smeared the tiles as skin split, and Darcy sank to her knees, opening her mouth to let out a shriek of rage.
A sharp, gasping sob burst out instead, echoing throughout the bathroom and room as she lost her final bit of control, leaving her head bowed and shoulders shaking as the flood of grief and anger consumed her.
The thud of fists over the sound of water had Doug running toward the bathroom. He hesitated just outside, though, torn between his desire to make sure Darcy wasn't in danger, but also knowing that at a precarious time like this, being too smothering could cause worse problems. "Darce?" he called out after the first sob broke the dam. "Can I come in?" He wanted to give her as much agency and room for control as he could, because he was betting she felt like she had almost none at the moment.
"Please." It was a quiet, choking request from the corner of the shower she'd curled into, hair a wet mess surrounding her as the ends scrunched against the floor tiles. She desperately wanted the comfort of someone who understood, who'd faced the hurricane of Laurie Collins giving you affection just to snatch it away—who would, perhaps, understand the conflicting mess of her emotions as she weathered this storm. She hadn't promised him she wouldn't run away after the first time, and she wouldn't promise it, but there was no concern that either of them had her malevolent presence lingering in their minds outside from a lot of memories that mixed the good with the shitty.
Doug was already peeling his shirt over his head as he opened the door. He dropped his phone and various other pocket items on top of it. Shoes and socks were the only other items that made it off of him before he was in the shower, sitting down at Darcy's side and putting a gentle arm over her shoulders. Wet clothes were less important than her.
Darcy turned her head as she felt Doug's arm settle around her, burying her face into the warm skin just above his heart. Salty tears mingled with the warm water as her shoulders shook, sobs and hiccuping breaths muffled by his body. The minutes passed slowly as her tears slowly dried up, until all that was left was the occasional hitched breaths trying and failing to turn back into the full-blown mess of crying. Her nose and throat were still thick from the aftermath as she finally brought an arm up, reaching around Doug as best as she could and clinging tightly to him. "I should've killed her," she muttered, voice angry and words slightly slurred. "I knew. I fucking knew—FUCK—" her voice got increasingly loud, free fist slamming into the tiles beside her as she broke off, the curse still ringing around the room. "We tried to give her the whole fucking world, and this is our repayment?"
Doug felt a slight quiver, almost an agitation in the arm that was curled around Darcy's shoulders - the right arm. Perhaps the nanites were picking up on Darcy's emotional state, or Doug's fervent wish that he could somehow make things better for Darcy. Sending a brief feeling of comfort to the 'friendos' also served to let him center himself as well. "It's much easier to kill someone on a mission, someone you know deserves it," he told her slowly. "It's much harder to kill someone you've been close to." "you know, I think I will taunt you to death..." "Would this be an easier thing if she wasn't out there doing whatever her complete lack of ethics have decided is a good idea? Absolutely." He squeezed Darcy close. "But we can't control her, or even fix her. It means something that we tried to help her, though."
A flash of warmth traced up Doug's arm, too fast for Darcy to catch the meaning. She was still off-kilter, feelings in an aggressive tangle with her thoughts and actions. "She does deserve it now though, doesn't she? I've read reports about what Essex has done. She told me about Genosha in vague terms, and Ka—Garrison filled me in more tonight." Her voice was flat. She hadn't quite retreated into that task-oriented, robotic mindset that she tended to revert to in a crisis, but it was close. "So she knew what Essex had done. Could do. And still... she went to him. Worked with him. Hid it, even from me. And now she's blaming us for everything bad in her life, and wanting to kill us for it."
Darcy shook her head, disgusted. "Can't even own up to her screw-ups, like some second-rate villain in a TV drama." She reached to turn the shower off, finally noticing the blood running down her hand. "Oh. I should probably bandage that. Can we move out of the shower? I didn't plan on having this conversation here." 'Or at all tonight, probably,' she admitted to herself, though she felt marginally better with Doug here.
"That's a really good idea." Doug had definitely been concerned about the bleeding hand and cracked tile, but those had been sort of secondary items after making sure Darcy wasn't going to spiral further. He turned off the faucet and leaned out to grab several towels. Thank goodness he tended to keep some spare underwear and the like in Darcy's room, because his pants and underclothes were definitely sodden.
Darcy leaned against the wall listlessly as Doug stripped out of his sodden clothing and dried himself off, stepping into his arms and a dry towel as soon as he held it out, the fight—the anger—mostly drained out of her for the moment. "Think I'm gonna need you to do the bandaging part, it's kinda hard with just the one hand," she remarked dully once she was mostly dry. "Kit's under the sink, should have everything we need in it."
Doug was pretty sure every member of X-Force (and possibly everyone at the mansion who regularly put themselves in harm's way, for that matter) kept a well-stocked first aid kit somewhere in their living space. They were probably all suited to their owners, as well - Marie-Ange's was heavy on the migraine prevention and treatment, for example, though her migraines were fewer and farther between these days. Darcy's was well stocked and well organized, and Doug fished out some antiseptic to clean the wound, sterile gauze, and heavy-duty medical tape. He bandaged her up, quickly but gently, and started to nudge her toward her bedroom where he dug soft and well-worn underwear and sleep clothes out of her dresser and passed them over while grabbing his own underwear and shorts out of a corner of the drawer he had stashed them in.
Darcy pulled the shirt over her head with a wince, dropping the rest to the floor before carefully sliding under the covers. She waited for Doug to get settled and curled into him, bandaged hand resting on his chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For no—for coming. I know it's a lot. I'm a lot. Wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to keep your distance from this instead. She hurt you too."
"And I'm not a lot?" Doug asked, the tiniest bit of gentle teasing. "I mean, I know I've told you the story about me and water and the reason I started seeing Doc Grim in the first place." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder enough to provide physical comfort, but loose enough that Darcy could pull back if she needed to. "Plus, you were here for the whole 'I got my arm burned off below the elbow' thing and that aftermath..." He shrugged. "Yeah, she hurt me too, which is why I want to make sure we -both- find our way through this. I'd be a shitty partner if I just let you suffer while dealing with my own shit."
Darcy gave him a weak smile. "Have to put your own oxygen mask on first," she replied. "And you deserve to know that she's--" her hand did a vague wave in the general direction of the table she'd left Garrison's report on. "Doing that. Become that. Without being at work when you find out, wondering if the reason I'm not there is because I ran again." She pressed closer, mostly buried under the blankets. "Needing time to process that isn't... it's understandable if you do. There's a reason I've already told Kevin and Ange I won't be in Monday. Take the day with me? We can just be cozy in here. Or we can go up to your room. As long as I can have plenty of blankets to stay warm."
Doug nodded and kissed the top of Darcy's head. "Taking a day sounds like a good idea." He'd make sure to touch base with Marie-Ange. But later. And maybe move his next appointment with Dr. Grim up sooner.
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Date: 2022-10-23 02:33 am (UTC)