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edupunkn00b · 3 months

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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 10: First Visit

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

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Logan makes a trip down to the lower basement. As always, we open with a glimpse into the past.

“Now, now, you too… both feet on the floor,” Patton laughed, arms full and backing into the room and letting the door swing closed behind him. “No hanky-panky in the livingr—Jan!”

His tray dropped to the table with a clatter. Janus’s shirt was torn, the soft yellow plaid stained with a rusty red. Hands bandaged and eyes squeezed shut, he sat with his head tilted against the backrest. Lucas knelt on the cushion next to him, bright red blood seeping through the cloth he held to Janus' cheek.

Patton rushed to his other side. “What happened? Were we attacked? I didn’t hear the alarm, we—”

“It was the kid,” Lucas answered, a tremor in his jaw that quickly smoothed. Janus started to nod, then winced. “Shh, shh, shh, don’t move, love,” his voice once again calm and soothing. Dim orange light danced behind his lashes. “Don’t move, love,” he murmured, stroking Janus’ jaw with his other hand.

The crease in Janus’ brow softened and his whole body sank back into the couch. He hummed, low and content and a bit of his thoughts slipped past his control, caressing Patton's mind.

“Lukie,” he whispered, picking up another cloth from the coffee table and dabbing at the blood along Janus’ hairline. “Not so much.”

“Nothin’ compared to what I had to do to the kid.”

“What?” Patton snapped, eyes wide. With a glance up at Janus’ still-serene face, he forced his voice lower then glared at his brother. “What did you do to Re?”

“More than he deserved,” Lucas said, preternaturally calm with his gaze fixed on Janus’ face. He peeled back the edge of the cloth. “Look what he did to Jan.”

Blood pulsed along the edges of three jagged gashes stretched over Janus’ cheek and jaw. Other, smaller cuts and bruises covered his face and neck and the bandages on his hands had begun to weep red, as well.

Patton pushed back Janus’ hair from his face, cooing gently when the pain seeped through Lucas’ control. “He needs stitches,” he said quietly, the issue of who caused him to need them closed. For now.

“Virge grabbed one of the kits for you before he went to go sit with the boys. Ro’s pissed.” Patton’s hand shook and Lucas tapped his fingers once, calming them. He left behind a smear of Janus’ blood. “Can you do it?”

“I…” Tearing his gaze from Janus’ wounds, Patton counted the piles of used gauze and cloth on the floor. “I don’t know, Lukie. They’re so deep. Maybe we should take him to the medical cent—”

“Please? You know what they’ll do to him. And then they’ll come after Re, too.” Lucas reached for his brother’s hand again but pulled away before touching his skin. “Will you take care of him for me?”

“Yeah,” Patton whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

Logan cycled through each of HQ’s cameras, watching and waiting for each of the Mad Lads to retreat to their rooms for the night. The Prince didn’t leave his room, but V, Silvertongue, and Patton each separately visited him and stayed for a few minutes before heading off to their own rooms.

A little after midnight, HQ’s lighting shifted into night mode, a dim, golden glow from light strips embedded along the edges of the ceiling. Logan waited another hour before sliding back into his chair and making his way to the elevator, tablet resting on his lap. On the split screen, he’d opened the camera feeds to both ends of the hallway. One one side was the path to Silvertongue’s and Patton’s rooms; the other his, V’s and The Prince’s. He watched himself on the camera feed.

It would be obvious to anyone reviewing the tape where he was going and he almost didn’t stop. The memory The Muse’s hand pressed to the window drove him forward until he stopped in front the elevator and palmed it open.

The doors opened almost instantly, as though it had been waiting for him. He rolled in and pressed the button for the lower basement.

A tiny, cowardly part of his heart briefly hoped it wouldn’t work. That some protective measure might now block his access. That he’d have a flimsy excuse for not doing the right thing.

Instead the elevator doors closed with near-silent swoosh and he tucked the tablet between his thigh and the chair, too nervous to notice V’s door open on the security camera’s feed.

Fire from the gashes carved over his chest and face and legs seeped through the haze of meds Papa Bear had oh so carefully pumped him full of. Sprawled on his back, limbs splayed, Remus got a little relief and his mind wandered, tripping through the garden of sensations the breach had planted in his mind.

Behind his closed eyelids, the thick padded walls surrounding him faded and fell away.

Prickles of heat danced at his fingertips, palms rubbed over sweaty, calloused skin. Music and screams and laughter twisted in his ears. A lover’s whisper grazed his cheek and hands, hundreds of hands dragged and tickled and plucked at his skin.

A thousand scents filled the air, waves crashed against rocks and sunken cities, sunrise and sunset blinded him in their brilliance. Autumn leaves crunched and the ground shook beneath him.

Remus’ eyes shot open. The ground shook beneath him. Hands pressed flat against the floor, he listened and he felt, stretching his senses until they threatened to snap. Each breath roared, an ocean in his ears, so he held it, listening listening listening listening listening listening

Someone was coming. Papa Bear and Virge had already come. And Ro… his shadow stayed for a long, long time after the others went upstairs. Papa Bear had really wanted to lecture him for ripping up the carpet. Not all the way, he was way too kind for that. But Papa Bear still had that little flash even when he knew Remus didn’t really want to break anything.

He had to follow the rules, and he tried, he really really tried, but he just had to get to the floor. So maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe Jannie would come. Maybe Jannie would come with the frown Remus could hear behind his mask, and the gentle hands and hold Remus could feel through the layers of gloves.

The floor jumped beneath his hands, warm and buzzy. The elevator doors closed. Someone was there, right out there in the hallway. How many breaths would it take for them to breathe the same air? Remus remembered and sucked in a lungful. It didn’t taste like Janus yet but it had to be him.

“Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jannie…”

He scrambled to the door, skin tugging under the butterfly stitches along his shoulder. Shadows played just outside the door. Someone was definitely there.

Crouched on the floor, Remus pressed his forehead to the cool window. Soft, dark blue eyes blinked back at him.

“It’s you!” he shouted through the fake glass.

The Machine flinched, his scarred, mangled fingers stuttering on a little joystick-looking thing on the side of his chair, but he didn’t roll back. He didn’t roll away. He stayed right there, staring back.

“Hello, Muse,” he mouthed, carefully, slowly, enunciating the syllables so Remus would understand him. Pained. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

The Machine’s jaw and neck and cheeks were stitched back together just like his, perfectly neat stitches drawing together the angry gashes dragged across either side of his face. Remus’ gaze dropped down to The Machine’s stump and what was remained of his hand.

The Machine’s nails were short and even, nothing like the torn bits of what Remus’ nails had been before this afternoon’s breach in his cocoon. Looking up again, his eyes followed the path of The Machine’s stitches and his hands came up to touch the matching paths along on his own face.

Remus grinned.

“It was an accident! And I hurt you,” he shouted through the window and pointed at The Machine’s face. “I’m sorry.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before The Machine rolled close enough to touch the window. Remus pressed his palm flat against the surface, watching a bit of heat fog the inches of plastic between them.

“Wanna come in?” Remus asked, rushed. Afraid he’d say no and leave. Afraid he’d say yes and it would hurt.

The Machine tilted his head, face scrunched like he needed to work out what Remus had said. “By the door, up there—” he tapped the window and pointed like he could draw a line from there to the door controls. If The Machine could work the elevator to get downstairs, he could probably get in here, too. At least Remus was pretty sure.

Understanding washed over The Machine’s face and Remus’s grin grew, stretching his stitches until he thought they might snap. He nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah right there,” he said, forcing slowness in his words and hoping… The Machine’s eyes slipped over the wall, across the panel, then back at him. His eyes were so big, big and round and a little teary, set high above sharp, sunken cheeks, stubble peeking through the stitches. Scarred flesh pulled taut over his bones, thin. Thin but flushed pink.

He looked warm.

“Go on, try it!”

Memory echoed back the full sound of The Muse’s voice through the reinforced door and Logan sat, near frozen in his chair. Quick, too quick to forgive the pain he'd caused him, The Muse pointed out the door’s controls and smiled, hope in his eyes.

Logan looked back at him, gaze lingering on the evidence of his the hurt he'd cause. Would he hurt him again with his presence? If even The Muse's own brother couldn’t visit without harm, and his… his well, whatever Silvertongue was to him… Even Logan could see they were immeasurably close. If even Silvertongue, for all his power, all his control, had to limit his visits.

Perhaps, being a Powerless could be… beneficial. In this context, at least.

Logan’s concern for The Muse pushed aside everything else. His fear of being caught, his creeping exhaustion, even his reluctance to leave behind his chair. He rolled closer to the controls and stretched, the tiny grace of living in a right-handed world finally making his life easier. A bit, at least.

He was still inches from the panel when orange lights flashed along the ceiling, casting The Muse’s face in a flickering warm glow. He said something, a word Logan couldn’t make out, on the other side of the window and he nodded, stabbing a finger toward the elevator. “Go!” he mouthed, clearly.

“I—” Logan felt the pull of the alarm. If he got upstairs and into his suit maybe the others would take him along this time. He could prove his value to the team instead of…

The Muse stared at him, palm pressed hard against the window, skin paled and flattened with the pressure. Logan matched his pose, hand to hand with reinforced plastisteel between them. “I’ll come back!” he shouted as though that would make The Muse hear his sincerity.

The Muse nodded, eyes watering above a shaky grin as he clawed at the window between them. “Please…”

Before he could change his mind, Logan rolled backward and shot into the waiting elevator.

V was waiting for him, tablet in hand.

“I—” Logan began as the elevator doors hissed shut behind him

“Yeah, I saw the video feed,” he said, quiet. He tapped the screen and it went dark. The elevator opened on the main level and Logan followed V’s gaze toward the common room as he slid out ahead of him. “Suit up, Tin Man,” V said. “Time you met Hesper.”

#Meus ex Machina #sanders sides #intrulogical #ts logan #ts remus #Machina #The Muse #ts patton #ts janus #ts lucas #Patton Hart #Lucas Hart #Janus Gates #we'll get there‚ I swear #ts virgil #Virgil Morado #Silvertongue #Papa Bear

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