almost_knightly | Photo album spread out on my bedroom floor...

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[phdr]

Photo album spread out on my bedroom floor...

There was nothing remarkable about the day when Break got up this morning. There was nothing remarkable lying in wait in his bathroom, and nothing remarkable between himself and the kitchen, and nothing remarkable between the kitchen and the library.

The library, however, held something new today. It was lurking on the bottom shelf, easily missed but for Break's habit of crawling around on the floor -- a large binder, sedate red leather and several inches wide.

Break knows that binder.

Fingers shaking, he snatches it up out of the shelf. He fumbles it, and it falls open, and the first thing he sees is Faneuil Hall at Christmas, covered in snow. Below that is a photograph of Shelly, his own Shelly, dressed in winter clothes and laughing with Sharon when she was still small, and there's his ponytail in the photograph next to it because no one could ever get him to look at the camera that first year and he's seen these pictures a thousand times --

He slams the book shut, suddenly unable to look. A cruel gift, in a way; there are days that he wonders if he'll ever see this place and these people again. But on the other hand, now -- now he can show people, he can let them see things he's only described. It's as precious as it is mean.

Gathering the photo album up close to his chest and clutching it as though he's afraid it'll vanish, Break leaves the library, in search of some of the people he trusts most.

[ooc: Locked to

hadengineered,

retraced,

of_murder,

standstilltime,

smallkindnesses,

info_barma]

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You're making that face like you're wondering how I'm still alive again.

[Said kitten reaches up from his vest, then, and takes a swipe at the ring where it rests on a chain around his neck. It jingles against the chain the watch hangs on.] Mordie, leave that be. [...come to think of it. Why hasn't his counterpart noticed it, yet? Surely he'd still recognize it, even now.]

*he can't guess the jingling is something significant to him at this juncture, so for now he ignores it. If he realized what was on that chain, he'd hope his other self would interpret the lack of mention as a desire not to bring up anything about their failed-not-marriage right at the moment... since he is, in fact, rather sincerely enjoying this conversation.

Save for the current tangent, in which he peeeers over toward where the other's face should be, then shakes his head as he glances away again, slapping a sleeve across his own face.*

Nevermind that... really, I should be long since used to you being yourself by now... *siiiigh* Shall we turn the page?...

Well, if I wasn't meself, I'd prob'ly be you.

[He will let it go, for now -- the ring, anyway. But he suddenly has a suspicion that he doesn't like at all, not one little bit.

This is the second time he's worn this ring in the other's presence, after all, with no reaction on his part. Not even when they were alone together before, and they had spoken of...things, then.

Instead of moving forward in the book, he moves backward, bringing up pictures of pumpkin patches and hanging bats and a whole table full of candied apples.]

My favorite holiday is Halloween; Gillyweed said you've got somefing a bit like it here. [He keeps his tone as cheerful as it was previously, and taps on a photograph of that year's jack-o'-lanterns, lit from the inside.] D'you do these here? These pumpkins wiv the faces carved in?

We do, in fact. I'm rather fond of them, given that they always seem to lead to so much pumpkin pie afterward... *beam. ~~He'd crack some snide comment about the merits of being other-Break versus being himself, but frankly, even he can't think of a way to make that funny.~~*

[~~You know you love him somewhere deep down in that emo-tastic heart of yours, Stuffy.~~]

Mm, when my Shelly makes them she cuts leaves out of the dough and puts sugar on them and bakes them separate, and then puts 'em on top to make the pie pretty. [He turns to the next page; there's a photograph of Shelly finishing up one of those pies. The kitchen is a bit of a mess in the next few photographs, all the Rainsworths laughing and Break himself, hair short, sitting on the kitchen counter with flour all over his black t-shirt -- then ducking out of the way and holding up a hand to defend himself as Sharon approaches from outside the frame to get him again.] Hmm, we had a bit of a flour fight while she was baking that year. We didn't manage a picture of him, but Barma was over just then, and Shelly got a bunch of it in his hair. I wish you could have seen his face. Liam actually fled upstairs and wouldn't come back down till dinner.

[Break taps on the last photo of the page on his double's side, chuckling warmly.] If I recall correctly, in this one Liam was having a fit because Shelly used to let me have pie for breakfast and it made him crazy. But we never could get him to explain what was so wrong wiv pumpkin pie as the first meal of the day~

*flour fights and bothering not-a-Duke Hair and Liam having a fit on camera... It all sounds-- very nice, actually. The smile on Break's face is distinctly wistful as he stares down toward the page.

He's not sure whether his own Shelly knows how to bake a pie or not, although... now that other-Break has said it, he can picture her standing over a flour-covered counter, pressing doughy leaves into her pie crust with loving care. (Certainly his own Lady rarely sees the inside of a kitchen anymore, though, considering how sickly she's been...)

--but that's just his mind's eye. Mere fantasy, pure imagination. No matter how diligently he conjures up the image of Liam fleeing up a staircase laughing and covered in flour, it still won't be the reality---

He's tried very hard to be perfectly fine with not having his sight anymore, but... sometimes.

Just sometimes, once in a while, he can't help-- feeling decidedly bitter about it.

He wishes he could at least see this life that he and his will never get to have.*

*a second or two passes before he realizes he hasn't said anything; he sits back a bit from the album again, reaching up to adjust his cravat.*

Mm, Milady is quite the charismatic debater... I can scarcely imagine why Liam would even bother trying to argue with her. *grin*

[If it were anyone else, the way other-Break is staring at the photos would be as good an indication as any that his suspicion is wrong. But he's a Break, and he knows how well the other doubles in the mansion -- the ones who can't see -- have hidden their disability. He also knows full well why none of them want the information to be common knowledge.

Still.

The kitten worms its way out of his vest and prances back over to his counterpart, intent on investigating the cravat.]

He might have been a bit jealous that she was spoiling me rotten. I've accused him of it before, but he's never once admitted it. [Rather aware of his own heartbeat suddenly, Break turns the page again, revealing photos he'd shown to Gilbert, earlier, and he waits for a reaction.] Do you do costumes, too...?

*Younger-Break can feel a little body squirming around in his lap again, and reaches down to ruffle the kitten's fur. At the noise of the page turn he cocks his head a bit, affecting raised brows and an interested expression as he looks downward; but he says nothing as yet -- because well, he can't exactly, now can he?*

For All-Hallows? Mm, not when I was a boy, but I believe we acquired that custom at some point. *chin-scratch* I have heard tell of people throwing the occasional masque...

Mm. [He can't help a sigh, but he keeps his tone light as he leans back on the couch, tapping on the image of himself in the blue coat and top hat.] Gilbert was a bit startled by this photo in particular, when I showed it to him.

*he hears that sigh. And then the way the other man goes on, suddenly starting to leave out all the colorful details that he was only too happy to chatter on about before--*

Was he? And so the list of things that Gilbert finds startling grows ever longer. *spoken dryly as he pauses, carefully picking up the kitten in his lap with both hands. There's another moment's hesitation with his gaze still turned down; maybe this could still just be--

....No. No, his other self is fullly as intelligent and perceptive as he is, and Break knows himself well enough to know that he'd be wondering too.

Which is why he carefully reaches over to set the tiny cat atop the shadow he knows to be other-Break's head. Smiling cheerily and inscrutably:*

We're playing a game at this point, aren't we?

Edited 2011-08-08 01:48 (UTC)

[Break puts up one hand to steady the kitten, but he's content to leave her there. It's not like she doesn't crawl all over his person when allowed as it is.]

You woke up like this, didn't you? [Dryyyly.] Did you have to use Hatter when the Chain attacked you? Is that why it took so long?

*shrugging a little, expression decidedly bland now as he reaches over for his teacup. He's been found out anyway, so he doesn't bother being careful about it, fingers tracing the tabletop until they bump against his saucer.

It's a moment or three before he speaks again, terse and still very carefully nonchalant:*

I went home.

*...and then there's an exaggerated sigh. He actually pouts a little again as he clasps the teacup in both hands*

---How terribly vexing. I suppose this is my own fault for wanting to see your photo album... *taking a very irritated-looking sip.*

[Break turns all this over in his head for a few moments. It certainly does explain -- well, everything. The time it took for younger-Break to return, the lack of reactions over this and that. It likely also explains how scarce the other has been; that's nothing new, but at least it's usually for a different reason each time.

The other Break in this place that he spends the most time with -- she's blind, too. Dealing with this Break won't really be all that much different because of this change, which was probably an inevitable one, if he went home. His older double will just start telling him where the cookies are, when they're alone. That's all.]

...this particular costume was one of the few where I wasn't matched up wiv somebody. I wasn't trying to be anyfing specific; I just liked the outfit. It was this long, tattered, old-fashioned blue coat and a matching top hat wiv a pink sash tied 'round the brim.

Gillyweed told me you wore just about the exact same fing the day you met. I s'pose deep down, we actually have similar taste.

[Except that the younger one is probably a lot less likely to ever have a kitten on his head.]

*---blink. Staring over toward the other again, looking rather genuinely surprised*

You're kidding. We had the exact same--- ?

*pausing to turn his gaze down toward the teacup, an odd expression passing over his face. When he starts to laugh it sounds... a little helpless, somehow. It's a moment or three past being properly seemly by the time he finally manages to stop.*

Ahh, I miss that outfit. I believe I still have the hat somewhere, but the poor jacket did not survive a full year in the ranks of Pandora's grunts...

Mine fell apart, too. Poor Gilbert made a face like he'd seen a ghost; you must have made quite an impression.

[Mordred is stirring; Break plucks her gently from his head and sets her back in his lap, tucking his mussed hair back into place. When he speaks next, his voice is quiet.]

You should tell him.

*dryly* I'm told I was a particularly interesting person at that time in my life, but---

*he pauses abruptly at those last words, though, hands stilling around the teacup.*

*his expression slackens back out into 'bland and inscrutable' again after a moment, and he stares over at the shadow he knows to be the other man's face, not speaking, weighing replies and discarding them--*

*the one at home knows, of course, and he's at least somewhat resigned to it by now. He's resigned to the fact that he couldn't get it past Liam, to the fact that confessing to Sharon was the right thing to do, that -- that all the people he knows insist on poking at his weak and embarrassing spots and it... makes them happy somehow, fulfills them somehow, so he can sort of live with having to share a little bit.

But he knows it caused them all pain and worry and doubt. And no one is supposed to be -- worrying about Xerxes Break. No one is supposed to be looking after him. That's his job, dammit. He's supposed to be the strong one, the one putting himself between all these stupid kids and the world, watching over them--

All this touchy-feely-ness he's slowly getting sucked into lately is just ruining his image, honestly, and he--

If he can be one less worry for Gilbert, for Sharon and Liam and anyone else here that cares about him, even if it's an inevitably temporary arrangement -- then he wants to be. He wants to keep on being "that Break who can see". He wants... to lighten Gil's burden, when he can. He's put enough on the boy's shoulders over the years without starting to add his every little health problem on top of it.

If he were with Gilbert-from-back-home, his subordinate would certainly yell at him some more for thinking like this, but... well, what's new? Gil yells at him all the time. Sometimes it's even rather charming.

...It's not like... he isn't trying to learn to lean on them, just a little. He just-- doesn't want to stop being that person they can all lean on in return.*

*his grip on the cup is a little bit tight when he finally speaks, his voice utterly, utterly mild.*

I'm terribly sorry, but I don't seem to remember soliciting any opinions on the subject.

Xerxes.

[The other one can probably hear the flat look his elder counterpart is giving him. Break believes he has some idea what's going on in the younger one's mind just now because he's far enough away from that time in his life to know full well that he thought it his own self, back then, and his friends had to more or less beat it out of him over the course of a year. That's his reason for mentioning it at all, in fact -- he's more than aware that unless he's forced, no, the younger Break isn't going to tell him, and then it will come out at some horribly inappropriate time and cause everybody all manner of angst and upset.

And even though Break had found him first, it had been Gilbert who carried his corpse down the hall, back then.]

I've no intention of tattling, but he deserves to know.

*lips pursed, leaning back in his seat. His voice is tight now*

What he deserves is not to have to deal with yet another burden that he will take too seriously and fret needlessly about.

If you aren't going to tell him, then this conversation is over.

*he sips at his tea for a little while in a rather cold silence.*

I'm sure he'll feel fantastic when he ultimately finds out by accident -- he's not stupid, you know -- and discovers that you didn't trust him enough to tell him on your own after all he's done for you.

[Not over, in fact. Break reaches over to the side of the album that's still on his counterpart's side and turns several pages, slamming them down insistently.]

Look. Well, you can't; but look. These photos here are from when I was your age, and I'm not in a single one of 'em because that was the year I had the cancer. Out of nowhere a persistent cough turned into having to tell everyone my own body was trying to kill me. I couldn't have kept it hidden, the side effects were too obvious; so I had to 'fess up early. My hair was falling out, and I lost so much weight none of my clothes fit, and I was so nauseous all the time I could barely keep bread down. I was always tired and I got to be so weak I couldn't even lift a bloomin' pot of water and carry it to the stove, and I didn't want anyone to see me like that! All I wanted was for everyone to leave me alone so I could deal wiv it in peace, and nobody would.

They damn near made me crazy. They were always calling, wanting to know weekly updates. Liam went on leave from work to stay home wiv me, Gilbert started trying to cook up fings I could actually eat and by the end of it he was making all our meals. Liam's family sent me presents, Oz brought me books, Barma offered to pay our rent. Shelly started coming over and doing the laundry! And it wasn't until after it was all over that I realized that all the fussing and worrying and demanding to know all my business -- it was because all any of them wanted was for me to stay.

And by trying to avoid them and their help and keep everyfing I was going frough to meself, I was dismissing how much they all loved me, and that wasn't fair to them.

...I don't think you understand.

*the hardness has slipped out of his voice a bit, and he slumps down just a little where he's sitting, head leaning back. For a moment, he closes his useless eye.*

You've been here for months; you've seen what sorts of lives we lead. Our world isn't... like yours. Gilbert is--

*a moment of silence again.*

...He spent a decade not knowing whether the most important person in his life was lost to him forever, believing himself a worthless failure as a servant, certainly as a human being. He's blocked out all memories of his childhood, confronting anything related to it can send him into fits. He has a great deal of blood on his hands, quite against his own will, and he hates himself for every death he's caused. He was forced to live with a family that largely hated him; and then he got attached anyway -- and they've been murdered to a man. His brother by blood is an enemy to our organization, a murderer, and constantly dashing off into harm's way. His beloved master is in daily danger of dying or kidnapping or being dragged into the Abyss. He barely sleeps or looks after himself and I'm quite convinced he has never in his life learned how to do something for fun. Madness and death are no more than two steps behind him at any time...

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sob last edit I swear

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1/3 I am so (unsure) about this tag