theresalwayshope | 009} tell me, tell me, can you feel the pressure?

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009} tell me, tell me, can you feel the pressure?

[Public Video]

[The first thing that's clear, to anyone that knows Allison from home, is that something's...off. Her expression is a little harder, her jaw set a little differently, and he's holding herself with a little more authority, a little more readiness.

She seems a little more not like the head of the Argent clan they know, but the head of the Argent clan that Gerard molded in his own image.]

That pillow fort flood was kind of interesting, but I wanted to kinda touch base about the stuff before that. The..communications glitch thing? I was curious: who all did everyone get to talk to? Was it good for you? Or was it...rough?

[She's in the CES today, where off to one side, she's been visibly busy putting arrows in the trees. The location resembles a clearing in the Beacon Hills Preserve she favors for shooting, since it's a pretty broad clearing with a minimal risk of someone taking a stray shot unless they plant themselves directly in front of the paper target she's got tacked up. At the same time, she swears she can occasionally catch the cold, crisp smell of brine in the air...she's blaming her recent conversations with Duke about his hometown in Maine and her own distant memories of a couple months spent living in Augusta.

Her comm is propped on a low tree branch, which is still almost at head height, but she's standing back far enough that she can be seen to the waist, at a slightly downward angle. Her bow is slung across her back, her quiver over one shoulder, and she's still wearing both her arm guard and her glove.]

I know it was kinda nice for some, and for others...

[She trails off, thinking of Tig as she swallows thickly, and of her father as she draws a shaky sigh. Her expression is a little colder, a little more distant.

She doesn't finish. Instead, she gathers her composure and swaps between filters for a few specific messages.]

[Private to Mindy Macready]

So, random question: would you hate me if I wanted to do something? Like, ridiculous and ubergirly and probably unnecessary, but...it could be totally fun, and I really, really think it could be awesome? It's actually related to me asking if you had any interest in the basic training course Bucky Barnes is doing. Most of my friends are doing wit with me, and you're one of maybe a couple people that's missing.

So...I'm asking if you want to do boot camp, and asking if you...well, let's call it the Barge equivalent of a makeover-slash-shopping spree.

Interested?

[Barge Pack Filter - includes Beacon Hills folks, Duke Crocker, Tig Trager, Needy Lesnicki]

If you can see this, you're...part of my pack. My pack, I mean...I'm still getting to know some people, so I know we're all not necessarily best friends with everyone else's best friends. But, uhm...friends and pack mean different things to me, some of you may already know that. I've got a growing list of friends on this ship so far, but if you can see this? You're more than that. You're family, you're...sort of...mine.

Losing any of you would be losing a limb.

Anyway, I just wanted a way to talk to you all together for personal stuff, so first order of business? If you're not already in Bucky's boot camp, get there. Sign up, get permission from your wardens, whatever. Because if you don't, I'm going to mercilessly badger you. And if you're a macho manly type, I will resort to dirty female tactics. Like crying. All over you. Big, ugly, howling female tears in public places.

[The threat is real, but it's delivered with a small smile that makes her look a little less severe.]

[Private to Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac]

[There are definite cracks in the chilly veneer now...as evidenced by tears in Allison's eyes as she takes a wet, wobbly breath.]

Erica's on the Barge. I saw her message when she arrived, I...don't know if any of you have talked to her yet or seen her. I...haven't spoken to her yet.

[She pauses, and covers her mouth with one hand as she fights to hold it together. When she tries to speak again, her voice is thick and breathless, and her hand is shaking as it pulls away from her mouth.]

The Alphas may have killed her, but...I'm responsible for her death. If she'd stayed with Derek, if...if I hadn't drawn her and Boyd out...

[The rest of the sentiment finishes in her mind, unspoken.

She died because of me.

Allison knows Erica will come for her the second she knows Allison is on board. The second she's healed, the second she's ready.

And Allison isn't entirely sure she won't be killed, but she doesn't really care. For once, she's making light of the death toll. If Erica feels she has to go that far, Allison doesn't really know that she can stop her without killing Erica herself.

And she won't do that. Not now.]

I don't know where to start. I don't know what to do.

[CES Spam]

[After she cuts off the feed completely, the bow and quiver come off and are laid aside so she can move for freely, and for a while Allison finds a nearby tree to sit beneath and cry. She's alone, there's no one there...for a second, she's safe.

Tears turn into open weeping. Weeping turns into sobbing. It's the ugly kind of sobbing you don't get to see on TV or in the movies. It's not shrieking hysterics and beating fists...it's more like strangled, broken screaming she swiftly loses control over. It's snot and drool and bits of dirty leaves clinging to the damp places until she gives up and lays down, curling on her side and letting the hysterics claim her.

She cries for Erica. She cries for herself, she cries for her friends...for everyone her own death touches and destroys. She gives in to the fear and the rage and the pain of isolation (because she's by herself and it's safe to let go but she needs someone arms to hold her together a voice to bring her back God she needs to not be alone) until she finally cries herself sick, rising from her huddled place on the ground and darting behind her tree to be physically ill.

After she wipes her mouth once her stomach's empty, she feels weirdly better. Empty and numb, but more in control.

She uses the rest of her time alone to gather herself up again. She can easily be found packing away her things and removing her arrows from the nearby tree, a process she lingers over in a meditative fashion. She's since used a towel in her gym bag to wipe her face and neck, but her eyes are still puffy and nose red from crying, and she's a little bit pale from having been sick.

Beyond the CES, she can be found heading back to her cabin on Level 2.]

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[Duke has something of a knack for offering tidbits of comfort when they're necessary. He can't fix everything, tells himself it's impossible even if he tried, but he can at least give Allison a little support. He's older though maybe not wiser, but he can offer a different perspective, and sometimes it's a perspective that (he thinks) she can make use of.

If that's what she needs. And when she says otherwise, he becomes more convinced that it is necessary.] All right, just holler if you need me.

[Speaking of like a dog, Duke snaps his fingers and his dog noses into the frame, her shaggy mutt face giving the definitive puppy-dog eyes.] I guess Brownie wants to go with you. Do you mind that?

[The second the dog comes into the shot, Allison's features instantly shift, eyes going wide and expression softening at the liquid eyes and shaggy canine face that have her heart melting and eyes bright with the sudden yearning to...play with the dog.

Forget everything, all of it, for a little while and play with the dog.

Rolling her lips together to try and keep it together, she finally nods with a shaky breath, her words kind of strangled as they emerge.]

Yeah, okay. C'mon.

[Before Duke can see her fall apart, she cuts the feed and goes to find a place to either cry it out or swallow it down so she'll be solid again when he gets there.]

[He really didn't mean to make her cry. Neither did Brownie, who, upon being told they were going for a walk, bounds over to where her leash hung on a hook and paws against it. All she wants is to meet the person who talked at Duke.

He takes her to the CES at a slow amble, suspecting Allison wants a bit of time. She had been suddenly stately, defensive, then abruptly vulnerable. Exactly what was running through her head is unclear to him, but he knows it isn't good.

When they get to the CES it doesn't take long for Brownie to catch a person-scent on the wind and bound after it, expecting lots of pets and cuddles. Duke follows after her, hands in his pockets, until Brownie finds Allison and noses at her knees.]

Hey, kiddo.

[Allison is under her tree, trying and failing not to cry her eyes out when she's suddenly overpowered by an eager furry assailant who nudges at her knees with her nose, then thinks better of it and circles around to start eagerly licking at her tear streaked face.

She's grateful for it, because not only does it earn some watery laughter, but she hopes that the dog slobber will hide just how miserable she looks. Glancing up as Duke approaches, Allison's first instinct is to just...run up to him. Beg for a hug, plaster herself against that tall, strong frame and let herself be held until everything makes sense again.

Instead, she manages a smile as she lets her face be doggie kissed, rubbing between Brownie's ears.]

Hey, Trouble.

[Brownie, luckily, is the best of handkerchiefs/cheer-up equipment. She presses into Allison's face, sloppily licking her cheeks and nose, then rests her head on her knee. Pet her, Allison. No one has ever loved her.

Duke moves in close but not quite within arm's length, still in a casual slouch, and flashes her an incredulous look at the nickname.]

You've got to be kidding.

Katniss. Everdeen.

[It's said with mock accusation and a small, watery smile as Brownie draws her attention again. Her smile grows as she rubs her head, but then it fractures hard, and Allison can feel it.

Hoping Duke doesn't see, she shifts to wrap her arms around Brownie's neck, presses her face there just before it crumbles completely, and tries to cry silently against her fur, keeping her in place by scratching the top of her head with one wayward hand.]

Katniss is good! [He protests it, then watches as Allison's expression breaks and she pulls close into Brownie's neck. The dog is perfectly happy to stay there, Allison hugging her close, and while Allison is distracted Duke comes to sit down next to her, then wraps one arm around both Brownie and her.]

[She started out trying to cry silently against the dog's fur, but at some point she turns and then it's Duke's shoulder she's sobbing into, Duke she's holding onto while Brownie rests her head on Allison's knee. She's surrounded by warmth on all sides, and somehow it only hurts more at first...like ripping off a Band Aid, it hurts because she needs it so badly.

To be held. To feel safe. To forget, for a second, how lost and angry and guilty she feels.

It takes a while, but she slowly stops crying and just keeps hugging him, one hand drifting to rub Brownie between the ears again.]

[At first Duke just sits with Allison, his arm loose around her and the dog. When she's got her face pressed into Brownie's fur and the first sob hits her, he draws a little closer and pulls both dog and girl toward him. When she turns to bury her face in his shoulder he wraps the other arm around her and squeezes her forearm gently to reassure her.

Both Brownie and Duke stay where they are, her with her chin on Allison's knee and him hugging her while she gets through this. Brownie's big adoring eyes show no judgment, and neither does Duke's embrace.

When Allison calms down, Duke keeps up the hug with one arm and unwraps the other to retrieve a bandanna from the pocket of his denim jacket. He offers it to her, gently pressing it against her jaw.]

Come on - we'll talk if you want, but until then blow your nose.

[Uncharacteristically obedient and somewhat passive, Allison draws back and reaches up to accept the bandana, wiping at her eyes and, after only a moment of hesitation, blows her nose and makes a fuzzy mental note to wash and return it as soon as she can.

When she's done, she sniffles and rests her head on Brownie's head again, rubbing her ears as she rests her head on Duke's shoulder. For a long time, she doesn't say anything until...]

Is there a Curse in Haven that causes the Troubled person to just...destroy everything that matters to them?

Yeah. [Duke responds immediately, re-situating his arm to better hold what can accurately be described as a cuddle pile. He's thinking of Audrey - not Troubled, but a good person (the best person he knows) "fated" to make others suffer.

Both for Allison's spirits and his own, he nudges her and gives her a small, rakish smile.]

But we don't let little things like that stop us.

[Allison lets out a quiet, broken little chuckle at that, which encourages Brownie and prompts the dog to try and climb over Allison's legs so she can lick her face. Melting into giggles, she rubs Brownie's neck and head until she settles back in against Allison's hip, head in her lap, content to have her ears scratched again.

Between Duke's strong arm and broad shoulder, and Brownie's doggie kisses...she didn't really stand much of a chance.]

I do, you know...ruin people's lives. [She pauses, then takes a deep, shaky breath as her eyes fill again. She stares at Brownie, who's watching her again with soulful brown eyes and a tiny, pathetic whine of sympathy.]

I found out a little while ago...that I'm going to die.

[A chuckle is better than a sob, no matter how pained it is. When the giggles follow he grins, reaching up to muss Allison's hair affectionately.]

That's the risk of being part of someone's life. It doesn't mean it's not worth it. [But he gets the worry and the sorrow and regret and pain - he's seen it on Audrey before, and refused to take it lying down then too.]

Did your friends tell you that? [He shakes his head.] Correction: you are going to die if things back home go the way they did. You can change that. Make it part of your deal, find a way to fix it.

That's just it, I...it's kind of not my choice. [Her eyes spill over, but there are no more sobs, just silent tears running down her cheeks as she stares at her own hands, wringing Duke's bandana between them.]

Lydia...Stiles...Scott...and Isa--Isaac...[She falters a little over his name, because she knows they all made deals to save her life, one way or another...but Isaac made that deal and that deal alone. Getting his deal won't keep her alive, his deal is to have her alive, period.

And she can feel the weight of it, of that devotion, with every breath she takes.]

Every single one of my friends is here to keep me alive...but that's not going to change anything, because they'll still remember. Have you ever heard the expression that death doesn't happen to you, it happens to everyone around you? It's true, you know. It rips open this hole in their eyes, one that never closes. Not if the one they love is alive and well, not if they know they'll be able to bring them back...

[She tucks herself a little closer to Duke, feeling suddenly cold.]

I didn't know what I was seeing when I got here. There was this horrible port beforehand, and I was so sure that someone had hurt my pack...I was ready to kill the one responsible. Only someone evil, someone with no soul could put that kind of emptiness and sorrow and constant pain into someone as good as my friends...and it was me.

[It's different, admitting it to another person, different from the night she found out, when it was all she could think of, all she could say. There's guilt and there's pain, there always is, but saying it out loud...

She turns her head into Duke's shoulder, screwing her face up against a fresh flood of tears, and the hot, miserable burn of raw shame that flushes her face.]

[He doesn't see it the way she does, but Duke knows that telling her so -- that arguing with what she feels -- is not going to fix anything. So he hugs Allison tighter against him as she cries, stroking her hair like his mom used to do for him when he was little.

After a long time, when her tears aren't coming quite as quickly, he adds one thought.]

You know, all you did wrong was die. That's not something you can control.

It is when I died in a fight. [The words are muffled against his shoulder until she finally draws back and wipes her face again, finally calmer...and smiling a little as Brownie sits up to lick her face again.] It is when I wasn't fast enough or strong enough...it's my fault when I...missed.

Then it's something you can't control. Never chastise yourself for falling in a fight. The horrible truth is that there will always be someone out there more skilled or powerful than you are. It doesn't make you weak or put blame on you. Don't you ever think that.

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009} tell me, tell me, can you feel the pressure?

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