theresalwayshope | 006} recalled to life (or 'tis a far, far better thing i do...)

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006} recalled to life (or 'tis a far, far better thing i do...)

[PUBLIC VIDEO]

[Allison is still deathtolling in the infirmary, but she has her comm and she's not afraid to use it. It's been about two days: she hurts like hell, she's pale, and even after being resurrected from the dead, there's been a lot going on.

She's got a lot to do, and she faces it all with the brightest smile she can manage as the feed shows her, still in bed, and features still tight with pain she's fighting to hide, radiating from the puncture wound that stole her life...the wound that's no longer there.]

So...was that what you guys call a port? Because that...sucked. And not just because...[She falters over it, because regardless of the ship's metaphysical mechanics, there's something so wrong about saying it, enduring it...returning from it.]

...because I died.

[Drawing a shaky breath, she hides a wince as she goes too deep, tests her recovering body too much.]

I just wanted to let everyone know I'm here, I'm okay...and that anyone from Beacon Hills is on notice. If you know Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, or Scott McCall? Check in with them if you see them. Have they eaten, did they sleep...and if they haven't, make them. As soon as I can walk, I'm getting out of the infirmary, and it's going to be business as usual.

[VIDEO, Pack Filter]

Seriously, I'm fine, guys. If you don't take care of yourselves, I'm punching everyone. No exceptions.

[VIDEO, private to Needy and Duke]

Check in, you guys. I just want to make sure you're holding up okay.

[VIDEO, private to Vergil Sparda]

Hi. [Her smile is less bright, wearier and tighter with discomfort, but it's very genuine.] I'm still stuck with this...death toll thing...but I at least wanted to introduce myself. My name is Allison Argent, it looks like I'm going to be your warden temporarily.

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[Making a face, Allison nodded, pausing for another sip of tea.] And it sucks.

[She winces, breath hitching as she shifts restlessly around a phantom lance of pain.]

Have you...died since you got here?

[He chuckles lowly, smiles in commiseration.]

Yeah it does. Wasn't much fun either time.

[And then he nods. Shifts forward reflexively when she winces, when her breathing changes, not that he would know what to do about it but still. Something like worry flickers across his face, but it fades after a moment. After he reminds himself she's not in any real danger anymore. It only looks bad, that's all.]

Only the one deathtoll. Couple days in. Internal bleeding. Wouldn't really advise it.

[Allison catches the look on his face and, for a split second, she's reminded of her father: that little softening of concern in hardened blue eyes that makes it just a little easier to relax, makes the pain just a tiny bit more bearable.]

I got impaled...I bled out, too. [She shifts her head on the pillow, holding her mug as close as she can, savoring the heat of it.] Was it hard for you to get warm after? Like you felt cold in the middle all the time?

[Tig's jaw tightens at the explanation of why, fingers clenching around the armrests again, as if he's got any right to feel protective. He knows it's stupid, it doesn't stop the response. He's silent for a long moment, like he really has to think about it, but eventually he nods. Only slight, like he's trying to arrange it with an internal monologue, but it's still there. Still certain.]

Sure. Honestly, though, I slept through most of the first couple days. Just...couldn't really find the energy to do much else, everything wore me out and it didn't help that I felt like I'd been run over by a train. Twice.

[He hesitates, unsure if it's really his place, but he has to ask. Has to.]

Who did it?

[Allison makes a face at that, a little envious of him for his ability to sleep through the worst of it.] I can't sleep for crap. I move wrong and it's like...pain supernova. And then there's the being cold thing. Maybe I should try sitting up again. [Meeting his gaze, she smiled ruefully.] I tried that right after I woke up...I almost blacked out.

Anyway...I heard the guy who killed me is named Zane. I've never met him before, I have no idea who he is. I just saw him go after my friend, and I had to protect him, you know?

[It's the result of a series of events that made that kind of ability necessary; not really something he'd ever wish on her. Wartime teaches you odd skills.

He offers a slight smirk though.]

How about we don't try that just yet then. You'll get there.

[He nods at the explanation in commiseration; he gets the impulse, even if he doesn't much care for the end result.]

Lotta people went crazy. I'll ask around, if you want.

[Hell, even if she doesn't want.]

[Allison smiles a little at his reassurance, but his offer makes her features cloud with concern as she nibbles fretfully on her lower lip.]

By 'ask around'...you don't mean getting back at him, do you? Because I don't want that...not for you. I know I'm not your warden, but I like you. And I would never stop feeling terrible if you got in trouble because of me.

[The smile he grants her is wry, slipping towards legitimately sad. He doesn't mean to, but shit.]

Wouldn't be the first time I got in trouble 'cause of somebody like you, sweetheart. Wouldn't worry about me if I were you. I'll be alright.

[He's HERE because of somebody like her, after all, not that he's got any intention of laying that on her. She doesn't need to carry his issues too, it's bad enough she gives a shit.]

[It's ridiculously stupid, but the smile he gives her right then makes her want to hug him. She can't, for obvious reasons, but one hand does release its death grip on her mug to extend towards him, searching for his to give it a reassuring squeeze.]

Then don't worry about getting into trouble. Worry about me, stuck in this bed, feeling horrifically guilty on top of the iceball in my chest, okay?

[She means to be flip about it, but she's actually kind of earnest as she watches his face.]

Please, Tig. Not while I'm stuck here...not while I can't protect you.

[Tig isn't expecting it when she reaches for him, isn't expecting the contact let alone the squeeze. It helps and hurts, loosens and tightens all at the same time; he wants a drink, he wants to leave, he wants to hug her and never let go. He lets her maintain contact for a few moments, then pulls his hand away. Better that way, he figures. But he nods, dropping his gaze, gives a halfhearted shrug.]

Yeah, alright. Fine. I won't look into it. But only 'cause you asked me not to. And if it happens again I won't make the same deal.

[Once again, there's a flicker of something familiar in Tig that breaks Allison's heart. She remembers the way she treated her father after her mother died, when all of Gerard's hateful, bilious words made perfect sense, made everything clear in her head.

The first time she reached for him after Gerard tried to kill her, he had that same vaguely surprised look in his eyes.

She knows what his promise has to cost him. She's known too many men like him, beyond her father, not to understand it. His warning only makes her smile...she knows he's being honest, that he might do something stupid in the future, but she's also relatively sure she can stop him if she needs to.

So she takes one more sip of her tea, then struggles a little to try and set it down.]

Could you help me sit up, please?

[He doesn't let her struggle long, tries to intervene before she spills it because it seems safe middle ground. Because it's instinct to; despite everything Colleen ever said about him he was a good father, in his way, did his best at any rate, club business notwithstanding. He eyes her warily when she makes her intentions known, when she asks for help, and part of him wants to refuse because of what she said happened the last time, but she doesn't seem like she'll break too easily if he does, so he nods, moves to assist the best he can.]

Yeah, sure. Just don't pass out on me, alright?

[There's a faint smile there, something almost teasing albeit uncertain, but he offers a hand for balance and leverage, moves in close to be ready to wrap an arm around her to bodily get her upright if she needs it. Teenage girls are stubborn, he knows that surely enough, she wants to sit up that's what's happening regardless.]

[Allison allows him to take the mug from her hands, smiling a little as he moves to help her sit up. She grabs his hand as firmly as she can, and does her best to use her arm to pull herself up without taxing the muscles in her upper body.

His grip is strong, and with only a couple of grimaces she makes it to an upright position.

And, before he can pull away, she reaches up to wrap her free arm around his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

Yeah, she totally tricked you, Tig. You just got hugged.]

Thanks.

[Tig isn't expecting it, not even close, startled into keeping still while the arm wraps around him, even if he tenses under it, sucks in a breath sharply. It's not pained, or at least not in a way that's physical, ends in something that might be a chuckle, if wry and barely more than an exhale. He doesn't return it, it seems too potentially dangerous to, but he lets her, and that's something.

Honestly, it's nice. He won't ever admit to it out loud, but...it is.]

Yeah, sure. No problem.

[Allison knows she's spooked him, so she doesn't hold it against him...but for a second, a lump rises in her throat. Tig smells like leather and gun oil, maybe a little cigarette smoke...for Allison, it's the smell of home, the way her dad always smells, especially just after a deal when he went drinking with a client.

It makes her hold onto Tig a little tighter for a second until the lump fades, and she can trust herself to draw back, offering him a wan smile.]

For future reference? I died, I didn't break any bones. You can hug me back if I hug you.

[And she does plan to hug him in the future...for her own selfish reasons, and because maybe he needs it. Yep, she's going to have to start hugging him every time she sees him.]

Yeah, I know, baby.

[Tig doesn't realize it's out until it hangs there, but shit. Right size, right build, right look, right words, and it's no wonder it overlaps. His eyes are wet and his chest is tight and he closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see it but the image follows anyway. He doesn't need to look to wrap an arm around her anyway, properly, to pull her close before she gets too far and he'll say it's to make a point if she asks, to prove he knows she's not broken anymore, but it's as much for him as it is for that. Something clenches and he knows it was probably a bad idea, like the ride with Koz's kid, but it helps too. Something solid. He pulls back after, slaps a lopsided smirk in place and moves on.]

I've been there already, I know that. Happy now?

[She wasn't expecting him to pull her back in, but she goes willingly, and when she gets that breath of leather, grease, and smoke again, she can't stop herself from curling a little closer, pressing her face against his shoulder and holding on tight, pulling away only when he does.

And when she does look back up at him, she is visibly pleased. She's a little more relaxed, and there's even a little bit of a sparkle in her eye.

She still looks like crap, but she feels...better. Safer. He's clearly thinking of someone else when he hugs her...and it doesn't strike her as odd that he would have a daughter...but she doesn't mind. They're both alone, they're both together...

...and she feels safer.]

Deliriously happy. Thank you.

Yeah, whatever. Don't get used to it.

[But the smile comes easier, and there's a certain ease that's settled in now that wasn't there before. It's a lie, he knows it even as he says it, but it's obvious, said because of the song and dance that goes with it, for the sake of appearance. She pressed close and clung and, for a moment, everything was Okay. She's Daddy's Little Girl too, if he had to guess, and she's not his but they'll make it work, that much he can see. She's got an empty hole too. It's not healthy, maybe, but it's survival. You find what you need and you make do. Get through another day.

It's a conscious decision, then, what comes next, whatever it is. A decision made, in that moment, as surely as helping Kendra had been. Something he Had To Do, no matter what it meant.]

I gotta go. You need anything, let me know.

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006} recalled to life (or 'tis a far, far better thing i do...)

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