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The (Former) Warehouse Lair of Evil, Sunday morning
Last night, Kestrel and Rook's lair had been strewn with stolen knick-knacks, briefcases with money and diamonds, weapons, and a very luxurious bed they'd had shipped there a long time ago.

This morning, the only things in the undecorated space were a broken, saggy mattress; old newspapers from 1922; and Dinah and Priestly.

Dinah woke up to traffic sounds. And full, technicolor memory.

"...oh God."

[ooc: for he who used to be the Rook.]

He who was once Rook was still happily unconscious, thanks. He mumbled in his sleep when he felt Dinah move, something about green bean casserole, and scratched at the stubble creeping down his neck from his beard.

This would be a lot easier with more clothes. And less skin contact. And less clear memories of last night and the last two weeks and --

Dinah ruthlessly cut that thought off right now or she was going to wind up losing it completely, and concentrated on (a) getting clear of Priestly, and (b) not touching the mattress any more than she had to, so she could (c) figure out where the hell her clothes were.

As many times as she'd had to do this, you'd think she'd have a system by now.

Priestly grumbled unhappily at the removal of nice warm other person from his proximity, then the slightly more observant part of his brain finally noticed the bits about "Dinah" and "really not happy" and "what the fuck is that smell?" and woke up all the others bits.

. . . That was one hell of a wake-up call.

"Oh," he said, lying still and averting his eyes from watching naked Dinah search the warehouse. "Fuck."

"Yup," she confirmed.

That really said it all, didn't it?

Dinah couldn't look at him yet, but she could TK his pants to him.

Please pardon Priestly while he tried not to think about the other things Dinah had used her TK to do in the recent past. He hurriedly grabbed said pants and yanked them on, trying not to think about whether or not they smelled like smoke.

". . . I couldn't have just stayed a hot lesbian?"

Okay, that got him a look because Sheba was awesome and more than her hotness and Priestly's hotness and-- oh hello, T-shirt, yes, now this was less awkward by about 10 out of say thirty gazillion points.

"Being a social worker was nice," Dinah muttered, finding her underwear as soon as she had the T-shirt on.

Right. Part of the smell was a rotting pail of paint, behind the newspapers. Good to know, now that it was all over her jeans.

Priestly groaned, then had to stop himself from falling back on the bed. "This is . . . this . . ." Priestly shook his head. "Fuck."

Dinah threw the jeans at the wall, and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah."

Seriously. Where to start. The murder? The criminality? The arson? The sex? The totally hosed completely screwed-upped-ness that was them?

"I'm sorry." Which didn't begin to cover it, but still had to be said.

Priestly laughed. It kind of hurt. He ran his hands over his face, then pulled them away and stared at them.

There wasn't really still blood under his nails, right?

"I feel like we should be used to this by now," he said. "This isn't like being thirty for a weekend and having a miserable life."

"Nope." Monosyllables were really working for her today.

"This is more like..." Words failed her for a few minutes.

"Being kidnapped. Into someone else's life. Brainwashed. Stockholmed."

...and oh crap that was the worst part, thinking about Kestrel and Rook and now that she'd said those words, she couldn't look at Priestly.

Priestly wrapped both his arms around his head as best he could. "I didn't even -- which of us was -- oh god."

"I don't know." Dinah wrapped her arms around her stomach. She looked over at Priestly and immediately felt even sicker. Because she could guess, after two weeks constantly dipping into his brain-- no, Rook's brain, remember that-- how much she'd pushed at him, or pulled at him, to do what Kestrel had wanted. But also... "She didn't have shields. On her telepathy. She never learned." Forced herself to swallow. "Constant feedback loop."

Which sounded really clinical, and not, say, like batshit insane folie a deux.

Part of Priestly really wanted to just put all the blame on that, on Dinah's telepathy, which even after all these years he still hadn't entirely wrapped his brain around.

It'd never mattered that much before.

But that wasn't fair. "He didn't have Trucker," he said. "There was no one to pull him back."

Why not blame the telepathy? Dinah was. She'd never wanted a full-body stocking as much as she did right now. Except that was too easy.

Priestly's words gave her a chill. "God. Yeah, that would change stuff. He's your guru. Without him...." She was quiet a minute, then said, "That Dinah never met Helena. I think the Helena in her world was dead."

Oh God she wanted to go home and see her sisters. So much. As much as she wanted a hug from Priestly, and knew she couldn't ask for one.

Priestly currently wasn't sure he'd ever touch any one ever again.

(He would, he absolutely would, Priestly was a people person, but that was hard to remember when your most recent memories involved touch coming with some fairly hefty side effects.)

He was going to be sick. He was going to hide here, in a stanky warehouse wearing nothing but his jeans and be sick forever.

"I always knew I had that in me."

Well, no. He'd always been afraid he had that in him.

"What?!" Dinah spluttered. And wanted to follow it up with No! That wasn't you! And it wasn't, it hadn't been--

but if it wasn't, then who the hell had it been?

You made me, the Rook had said to her. And it had been thanks and praise and sounded so, so damning now.

"How? How could you think you had that in you?" she demanded instead. "You set your khakis on fire! Once! Not-- that."

Edited at 2014-03-30 07:01 pm (UTC)

"This me did," Priestly said. "That me let you suck up all his anger and -- and hatred and turn it into our entire lives."

And now he was getting angry and it made him want to throw up.

"I should go. I should -- Stevesie's probably eaten the entire pantry by now and god only knows what Dean turned into. . . . I should go."

Put some distance between them. Apparently, they were bad influences on each other.

And it wasn't fair, Dinah had never asked to be a telepath, she'd worked on controlling her powers for years, she'd never hurt anyone with it like this--

(Except Matt, years and years ago. Not this badly, nowhere near like this. And she learned her lesson right there and then, and hadn't done it again. But never? Was a lie she couldn't tell herself.)

-- and she'd been waiting for Priestly to get pissed since they woke up. And it hurt. And it scared her. And it felt inevitable. And there was no way to make it right.

"Yeah."

Dinah turned around to face the wall, so he wouldn't see her face.

"Do what you gotta do."

Angry was easier than hurt and scared.

Priestly found his shirt and one boot, then cast around for the other.

". . . Let me know when you know Helena's okay."

"'kay." Dinah was on the verge of breaking down. Angry at all the unfairness, angry at herself, at Kestrel, angry at Priestly, but knowing this was her-- Kestrel's? Hers? Who the hell knew-- fault.

Or she was the source. Same thing. She'd hurt him, confused him, used him, told him she loved him and was controlling him for his own good. No wonder Priestly couldn't look at her. Even knowing it wasn't his buddy Dinah who'd done all that crap wouldn't be enough.

She cleared her throat. "Text me that everything's... normal with your world. Please."

Do not cry. Not yet.

Honestly, Priestly was kind of terrified of both of them, right now.

"Yeah," he said, grabbing his other boot and pulling it on. "Definitely. Uh." He should say something. Reassure her. He was the reassuring gut. Make sure she knew they'd survive this.

"See ya."

"Later."

Back to the one-word sentences. Because if she went past those, she'd start yelling or begging him to stay. And she was pretty sure that way lay a horrible screaming fight they'd never get past.

Dinah waited a long time after Priestly was gone to start crying. Which gave her plenty of time to clean up her jeans. Find her shoes. Find Priestly's over-shirt, and throw it off the fire escape.

Edited at 2014-03-30 08:57 pm (UTC)

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