Angel & Terry | Checking In

[xp_banshee]

Angel checks in on Terry.


Terry was doing laundry. She had her laptop open on the counter next to where she was folding so she could keep an eye on all the communities she had access to, just in case new information came through. All she really needed to do was keep her hands busy, though it made her bruised back and cracked ribs protest. She gritted her teeth and bore it, determined not to let herself dwell on the attack.

Angel knocked on Terry's and Kyle's door, then poked her head in to see Terry sat and doing laundry.

"Heard you ran away from the med lab," she said with a small smile.

Terry turned away from the counter, the shirt she'd folded still in her hands, and offered Angel a wan smile. "Well, Jeanie couldn't really keep me there any longer, once the concussion cleared," she said, pressing the shirt to her stomach as she half-wrapped her arms around her midsection. Wincing, she released herself and put the folded shirt in the proper pile. "Would y'like tea? Or coffee? Something t'eat? I've got soups I could thaw. Shouldn't take but a few minutes."

"I'm good," Angel assured her. "I've actually been banned from coffee for the next twelve hours to get it out of my system. Turns out caffeine does in fact still make me hyper. And not in a useful way."

"Alright," Terry murmured, opening the fridge to check what she had inside for herself, since she needed to keep up her own strength and she hadn't eaten save for a piece of toast earlier in the day. She froze, though, when she realized all the raw meat inside it was close to expiring -- yet another reminder that Kyle was gone. She closed the fridge empty-handed, paused, and then reopened it to begin pulling packages of meat out. Hissing as she held more than she should, she bent to open the freezer so she could start putting the meat away. "He'll want this when he comes home," she murmured by way of explanation. "Won't be good for much but stew, I suppose -- texture's always a bit off after meat's been frozen. But best t'keep it, just in case."

Arms empty, she straightened only to press a palm gently against her side where her cracked ribs were wrapped solidly.

Angel smiled sadly as she watched Terry. "How are you?"

"Well, I -- " Terry broke off, glancing at her laptop next to the basket of unfolded laundry. "I think I was better before they reported back about the attack," she murmured, eyes catching on Sue's mission report. "What use is adamantium on a skeleton when he was perfectly fit for fighting and whatever else they might've wanted him for?" She asked, lower lip trembling briefly before she cleared her throat. "Tactically -- why weigh him down? His claws are plenty sharp without the metal. What does it add, save a bit of flash?"

"I... don't know." Angel could think of a few things, but she was pretty sure any answers she had wouldn't actually help. Besides, anything she said was speculation. Why put ideas in Terry's head and make her feel worse? "We'll have to ask him when we get him back."

"I know Logan's still got the adamantium," Terry said, going back to the laundry basket. She continued folding laundry, finding one of Kyle's shirts and pausing at it. "It'll change everything for him, though. Balance and -- I did watch some of the footage. What there was of it. He wasn't -- obviously he wasn't as light on his feet as he usually would be. More..." She wasn't entirely sure how to describe what she'd seen or why it felt so wrong to her after all the training she'd done with him in groups and solo. "I always thought waiting for him t'come back from missions was bad, when I wasn't on the team... but this is so, so much worse."

"I know what you mean," Angel said. She'd watched the footage as well, and she'd gotten the same feeling. He'd been... not hunched, exactly, but definitely not holding himself tall the way he normally did. He moved a little slower, but also with more purpose. Made every step count. It was very... feral-ish. It made her wonder how much of him would be left when they got him back. How much would be left of any of them.

She took a breath. No. She wouldn't drown in those thoughts. She sat with Terry and took a shirt to help her fold. "It sucks," she agreed softly. "Being the one who's waiting always sucks."

"Then, o'course, there's -- why'd they leave me? No' that I'm upset they did, but then -- I am, a bit, at the same time," Terry muttered. "At least then I'd be with him... but he'd hate that, I know he would." She sighed in frustration, rubbing her eyes before reaching for another shirt. "How're y'holdin' up, though?"

"He'd absolutely hate that," Angel agreed. "He'd be tripping over himself trying to keep you safe and probably throwing himself on swords to make sure they didn't do anything to you."

And clearly they were already doing terrible things. She didn't want to think about how it could be worse.

She finished with the shirt and grabbed a few socks to start matching them. "I'm all right. I just keep reminding myself that we're going to save them, and it's keeping me sane. Mostly."

"That he would," Terry agreed, nodding slowly. "And we're absolutely goin' t'get him back. All o'them. Just... a matter o'figuring out where. Hopefully Doug's... nanite finger's sorting things out even now."

"Fingers crossed." Angel frowned, considering that for a moment. "Is that... a pun? Considering it's Doug's nanite finger, or...?"

Terry smiled despite herself. "Not sure, but we can err on the side o'caution and call it one."