Le Ciel Est Noir

<Januar 13, 2015>: Keith and Gar have a talk about him going berzerk.

Titans' Castle

It's an awesome place to be sick at.



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Mood Music:

Day Two of… goodness knows how many.

That's the tally keeps in his mind- not because he's impatient, but because Garfield is. The hyperactivity was understandable, Gar was always active, and the animal impulses combined with that, well…

Still, he needed to keep the Green One still until he was well enough to effect his changes. This did lead to some creative applications of his own powers to keep Garfield entertained- currently their bedroom is a faithful recreation of one of the poolside resorts at which they stayed over Christmas. Except for the bed right next to the oceanview balcony, the illusion is perfect. The sound of the ocean, and even the scent of the ocean waft up to the balcony.

Gar's tea is handed to him. It has a little paper umbrella in it, because the touch counts.

Gar's been quite pleasant while the poolside illusion is running. He really likes the vacation feel. It makes having an owie in the arm and gut and shoulder less like interrupted work. This does not mean that he hasn't tried a minor shift every half hour, to no avail. He has. To no avail. It's like that hideous cramp you get the day after you pull a muscle, then keep working through it, only it's at a cellular level. Possibly something about having turned into something that isn't real and getting seriously injured.

Still, with tea, and with cookies, and breakfast in bed, it's been enough to make up … no, not really. He hates it a lot. He wants his laptop at least, so he can do some work. But it's not comfortable yet. Dammit.

"Thank you sweetie-kins," he says in a drippingly sweet voice, "That little umbrella just makes it perfecter!"

The cheshire cat smirks at Gar's tone, and he gives him a gentle stroke across the cheek. He knows it's hard for him, illusions or not, so he's trying his best to be as good a nurse to him as Gar was to him. "If you want to 'go' anywhere else, you just need to say the word. I'd put on my rather small swimsuit and show it off for you, but with your wounds it just wouldn't be a good idea…"

Bad boyfriend, stop teasing the injured boyfriend. "I found several rare books in the library down below. I thought maybe you'd like to read some of them?" something to give his brain something to do.

"Rare? What books are they?" Gar asks. Because some rare books are sometimes rare for very good reason. Self-published wonders. Books that were limited runs because they were esoteric. Or, books that were burned for fuel because nobody cared about them.

For Gar Logan, the latter ones are the kind that he can read and work on as ideas for the next chick flick, because sometimes, that's simply what it takes to avoid the massive copyrights monster.

"Are they heavy? If I can't handle having the laptop I might have trouble with a book." (Whiner.)

"Oh, there's a few that have not seen printings since the late Nineteenth. Lairmaster was quite the collector. There are some books about the supernatural there written by a guy called Tobin, and there are a few that are romances. Some old texts on biology, geology, philosophy, etcetera. Nothing too heavy to hold." the cheshire smirks at the whine.

"Of course, if you really are that weak, I can always read them out to you while you rest. That'll be fun, especially the ones that have charts or illustrations."

"Tobin? Check those with Zee first to make sure they're safe before you bring one to a sick dude."

Gar thinks for no longer than a tenth of a second about other books before he says, "How about the biology and philosophy?"

"Sounds good. I'll bring them up after your tea is gone," the cheshire says, making sure to highlight the incentive. "But first… we really do need to talk, you know."

The sun is bright and there's not a cloud in the sky. Everything seems predisposed to good humor in this illusion.

"Do you think now is a good time?"

"There probably won't be a better one," Gar says, totally disingenuos. He's not sure what the big need to talk is, of course.

Vorpal picks up on the stress in the voice, and smirks a little. "Hey… just bear with me for a little. This is a part of your powers that I hadn't encountered before. They scared me a little, because you ended up hurt. I'm sure you know how that is." After all, Gar had a similar reaction when he found Keith wandering Gotham in a haze.

"I want to be able to help you next time something like this happens, if it happens again. And if you need me to help you, I need to know what's going on-" he taps Gar's temple gently with his index finger, "in here. What you see, what you feel…"

Hm… How to answer that one? There's no real answer, because it's one of those things that he hasn't ever put into words.

"Oh. The berserking thing. OK. How to explain. When I was younger, I would sometimes let the animal thing overwhelm me. I'd get a serious chewing out … eventually, as part of that magical thing called puberty, I got better. I only lose it when I'm really badly injured and have no time to prepare, or when someone I love is threatened and I can't do anything about it."

Well, that's pretty much obvious, as far as Gar is concerned. Isn't everyone like that?

Vorpal nods, thinking about it.

Having three people in the driver's seat meant something very peculiar- that it was very hard to lose control, unless you were drugged. Or drunk. Or both.

"There's something I thought about doing to see if it would… bring you back. But I wasn't sure if it would work. I don't know how lost you get inside the animal."

"I'm never lost in the animal, Vorp. That's the problem. I have the whole set of instincts, on top of the whole set of everything else. The reason I went after you when I was a phoenix is that you were trying to keep me from my prey. If you know why I'm acting like I don't have rational thought, then you can stop me. Dropping me in the lake was the perfect answer, in that case. I had to adapt to something different."

That's a clue, from Garfield Logan, that says 'your instinct was correct.'

"I guess I was looking for the magic words that would snap you back," the cheshire grins, "It's never as easy as that. Except when it is-" because fairytales "but even then, it isn't." because fairytales.

"If it happens next time, I'll find a way." He had to, because otherwise someone else could end up trying to take a rampaging Gar down. And they wouldn't necessarily care about keeping him alive. Or, in his unthinking rage, the green Titan might end up rampaging towards his own death.

The cheshire shudders visibly and looks away for a moment, organizing his thoughts.

~It'd be easier if I were a telepath~
~~Yeah, but then he'd be constantly singing songs in his mind to give you earworms~~

"Magic words? You want me to tell you my berserker safeword?" Gar grins widely and a bit evilly at that. But he's thinking about the idea.

"Not necessarily a bad idea, actually. I'll work on one."

"There's also…" Vorpal looks over at Gar, "It's a very dirty trick. But it could be enough of a jolt to make you stop. I'm not sure… it just feels very… disrespectful."

"What on earth? No, Vorpal. A wet willie won't cure the berserking," Gar says, continuing the evil grin. Ow, laughing hurts.

Vorpal smirks at Gar's evil grin, and chuckles. "I can't show it to you. It'd just… make you sad, maybe. But for a moment I thought about impersonating your stepmother. I remember what she looks like perfectly, and I got a wiff of one of her perfumes at-" DANGER DANGER WILL ROBINSON! It immediately dawns on him that he's about to give away how he got that necklace in the first place "-one of the Hollywood museums, so I could replicate the fragrance as well."

Vorpal is an awful, awful liar. At least he doesn't blush when in cat form.

Gar narrows his eyes at that. "No, my adoptive Mom would not be something that would make me less berserk. I know she's dead."

Gar appears not to have noticed the "slip" earlier. He also has a thought.

"OK. I'm going to trust you here. I can use Dad's stupid hat trick to put in a conditioned response so I will return to human form if you say a specific sequence. I want you to be there when I do this."

That helmet is dangerous. It may have to be done with Gar's stepdad present.

Vorpal nods slowly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Sure, we can do that… just to make sure it's safe. You'll have to tell me everything I need to do to ensure your safety…" and to ensure that the helmet wouldn't leave Gar completely deranged.

"No, you didn't upset me. Honestly, telling you now would prevent you from upsetting me. If I'm pretty much all about emotion, instinct, and reflex, then that would put me over the top for a while." Gar winces, and closes his eyes, doing the 'breath control for pain control' ritual.

"I think you just need to come up with a very specific phrase. Something you wouldn't even say during sex."

Vorpal smirks. "I think that leaves about ninety-nine percent of the English language," He jokes, but he settles on the bed next to gar- VERY carefuly and slowly, like only cats can do, so as not to jolt him.

"This thing you are trusting me with… heck, you know how I feel about you." He did almost die for him. Will he ever tell him? Hell, no. "I only worry about one thing- having to use it to snap you out of it, and someone overhearing it who shouldn't."

"So, it'll only work when I'm not in rational control. If I am, then I can override it. Easy Peasy?" Gar suggests. "Careful planning, not buying extra trouble ahead of time, those easy installment payments are really bognasty…"

"You're right. I was trying to think of anything that could go wrong to catch it beforehand, that I didn't think about what exactly the conditions would be." The cheshire sticks out his tongue, and then rests his head on Gar's shouldeNOHEDOESN'T! Just as he's bringing his head down he rememberes where one of the bullet injuries is and instead straightens up immediately.

"Thank you for trusting me with this." He looks at Gar, one hand reaching over to squeeze his hand. "… you know, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me…"

"You're so mushy when you're right," Gar says. Clearly pain is not really helping his sense of humor, or he's high on endorphins after that breathing trick. Possibly the latter. His sense of humor is usually that bad, after all.

"Hnnnn, ok, not ready to change yet. First thing I'm gonna turn into is a honey badger. No wait, starfish, they regenerate. Then a honey badger."

"Well, before you start not caring, how about a little more rest while I go down there and gather up your books?" the purple one grins and strokes Gar's hair with one hand. And, because he loves him, he gives in and leans forward to give Gar a kiss.

The kiss turns out to be a little longer and a little deeper than he originally thought, though. Thisis the first time he's gotten to kiss him since the Park, and the contact, the emotion, and the relief that Gar is alive take over.

Gar kisses back … even though it makes his shoulder twinge. Some things you just bear with. However, he's not going to be able to do anything about the frustration that comes after. Perhaps, though, neither will the cat.

"Jerk," Gar says very gently as their lips separate. "Books please. No romance novels, especially not if they're the kind with the mandatory sex scenes every thirty pages."

Vorpal grins, suddenly realizing what happened. "Yeah… that was kinda jerky."

He slides off the bed and looks at Gar. "Then again, if you hadn't gotten hurt…" he gives him a wink. "Don't worry. When you get better, I'll make sure to show you how glad I am you're still alive."

"Yes, but I'm very grateful you had the presence of mind to tell me to go jump in a lake, so I would BE still alive. Though, there was something weird happening with that Phoenix thing, that has me a little unnerved."

Gar sips the last of the tea in his not-actually-a-mixed-drink-glass and says, "Could we change the setting to a coffee shop with books when you get back? Not the chain kind. If you bring coffee too, we can do dramatic readings."

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