[ there's so much going on here. dutch almost hates randel for making her try to untangle it, for coming to her, for tugging at those parts of her that understand the pain he feels right now.
that remember feeling the same way. ]
the lantern?
[ she needs more information, first and foremost ]
The lantern comes from my first unit. The 901st Anti-tank Troop.
With the lantern on, I am
[ 'Not me' is a lie. He wishes it was the truth, but it isn't. It used to feel like the truth. Now, the line keeps getting blurrier and blurrier. ]
Nothing matters except to kill.
The voice is so loud.
Pain, fear,
[ Love. As if he had love normally, as if he could love, with so much blood on his hands. What would the families of his victims say, if he said that he could love? How much of a lie has he made the very idea every time he turns the lantern on? Anyone who could love would have thrown the damn thing away years ago. But he's a coward. A good-for-nothing coward. ]
Everything. Its all gone. Everything is gone except the kill.
[ like d'avin. like d'avin with the killswitch in his brain, turning him against his team. something the army had done to see if they could. if they could make better soldiers.
dutch could have died. worse, johnny nearly died. d'avin almost killed his own brother. ]
i know what that's like do you remember how to get to my place
[ He can't imagine that she wants him there for anything other than- what? Perhaps to put him down, like the animal he is? To be honest, there's no one else he'd rather have do so.
He'd thought he was getting better, and he'd thought in a new world, in a world without the pain and devestation of the world he'd come from, the years of war, without, it seemed, so many evil men willing to hurt and kill people for their pride and selfishness, that he'd be better. Even without the Lieutenant, he'd be better.
But then this world had turned out to be like every other world, like his world, and it'd all fallen apart. He's so weak, such a coward.
He'll do whatever she wants, whatever she thinks is best. ]
[ if she thought she had to, if it came down to him or her — dutch would put him down. she knows she could. she's killed too often before not to know her own abilities, her own skill. the emotional impact it would have on her and how to turn that off. how to put it away and keep going and going and going.
she's done it all before.
but that isn't why she wants him there. does he drink? she doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter. one way or another, she needs a drink. ]
[ not usual, though dutch isn't worried about being robbed. anyone who tries that shit with her is going to have a hard time walking afterwards. the door's unlocked for him — and dutch is sitting in the kitchen, leggings and a loose-fitting but low-cut top, a bruise on one arm and another, hidden, on her hip. she's usually covered in bruises these days; it comes with fighting every other day to earn her keep here. ]
[ He enters as soon as he gets there, quietly closing the door behind him and shedding his coat, his shoes; he doesn't want to make her home dirty. And he's been sleeping outside lately.
He heads further in to look for her, stopping as he catches her in the kitchen. He waits in the doorway for more instructions. ]
[ one of dutch's legs is drawn up, curled underneath her on the chair. for a moment, there's no indication that she knows that he's there, standing in her doorway, than a slight tightening of her shoulders, then she nudges the chair nearest to her at the table with the foot of the other leg. ]
Sit.
[ there's a bottle of whiskey in front of her, opened, still more than half full. there's a glass in front of dutch that isn't more than half full anymore, and an empty one within reach. ]
[ He doesn't say anything, just nods and makes his way over. He doesn't sit in the chair, because then he'd be almost two heads taller than her. Instead, he sits on the ground beside her, so they can meet eye to eye. ]
[ he's still tall and broad, but those things have never impressed dutch. oh, she finds them attractive, but she's not intimidated by anyone's size. she's taken down men randel's size before and she knows she can do it again. so even sitting on the ground, he might be nearly as tall as she is on a chair, but it's still a submissive gesture.
same as the way he'd waited at the door, if dutch thinks about it. she reaches for her glass, taking a large swallow of the whiskey. despite her earlier intentions, she doesn't offer him any.
he looks like he's seen a ghost. he looks like he's in danger of becoming a ghost. there's anger making dutch's stomach clench tight, but she's not sure if it's directed at himself, whoever made him look like that, or at her own helplessness in dealing with shit like that. johnny would know what to say, what to do to make it better.
dutch isn't anything like johnny. instead, she's a weapon. she's accepted that. she's learned how to make it work for her because these days, she's the one pulling the trigger and she's the one pointing the gun. it's made all the difference for her own sense of agency, of personhood.
(not all the difference, no, but a big one.) ]
So you're a weapon.
[ she leans forward a little, glass still in hand. ] I know what that's like.
[ A weapon has no agency, a weapon has someone using them. He hasn't had that for years, since he first got out of the army. Maybe he could have excused those deaths, if that was who he was. He doesn't. He'd always had the choice to die, after the day that Ursula had gotten her medicine. He'd always had the chance to die instead of breaking his promise to his father. He'd always had a choice, to kill or be killed, and he'd taken the cowards way out. Like he always will.
He'd rather kill than die. And he's too stupid to figure out a better solution, too unskilled to know a better way.
He'd thought, back in District Zero, that maybe he'd fine another way. Now, he knows he won't. ]
[ for the longest time, those had been dutch's choices, too: kill or be killed. she'd always made the same choice he has, to kill. she doesn't want to die. even when she was sobbing and begging khlyen not to make her do it, eight years old and already with blood on her hands, even when she'd had literal blood on her hands, her own and that of others, she'd never wanted to die.
what she'd wanted was to escape. to be free.
(she doesn't hate khlyen anymore, and that makes everything more complicated, but those issues have no relevance here, no relation to randel looking up at her like maybe she has answers.
or like he'd let her kill him. she's not sure which one she's less comfortable with.) ]
Sure. You turn it on and then what? You can't control it. That's what you said. Still true?
[ it's a killswitch, like in d'avin's brain. whether he made the choice to flip it or someone else did — well, it makes a difference, but why he'd flipped it on matters, too. ]
[ His fingers clench tight, his hands will be sore later; he's still sore from his injuries on the beach. After all, the pirates had gotten a few shots in. He's stitched himself up, well used to the practice, and the pain is a dull ache. He won't bleed through the bandages; he knows how to make them thick enough. She probably won't even know unless she gets close enough to smell it past everything else. ]
I turn it on. I know what I can do when it's on. I know the danger.
I used to-
[ He'd saved Maches, once upon a time. Pulled him away from the death that had barrelled right at him, held him and ensured that only the lightest scratch had even touched him as a tank-like truck had skewered through his legs. He'd been able to direct it then. Now- ]
[ that's the alternative, isn't it? to stop. but somehow, she thinks he'll argue against that, too, and she lifts a hand to preempt that, brows pulled together and jaw working. she doesn't understand this, whatever the lantern is. she doesn't know how it works. ]
[ dutch takes another sip of her whiskey, mostly because it gives her an excuse to look away from him, too. from the fear in the slope of his shoulders, from the way his head is bowed just so, how he's looking away. ]
So it was kill or let someone be killed.
[ the answer he is looking for is clearly not "he probably had it coming", but it's on the tip of dutch's tongue regardless. not helpful. she swallows it down with the whiskey. ]
[ Another question he wants to answer with 'yes'. Another question he isn't sure he can say 'yes' to. ]
I'm a coward. Without it, I don't-
I-
I've never hurt anyone. Without-
[ Without the voice. Not without the lantern, because back at home, there'd been no lantern. He hadn't turned it on. But the voice had taken over at one point, had told him to kill and he'd nearly done it. He'd almost killed that man just trying to knock him out. And then Ursula-]
I don't know. I'm useless without it.
I tried to do it by myself once. But it took over anyway.
So you can't control it, and you don't know how to fight without it.
[ doomed if he does and doomed if he doesn't. but for a moment, at least, dutch feels like she's on solid ground. like she knows what she's talking about. ]
[ there's a part of dutch — a part that sounds a great deal like khlyen — that thinks him weaker for the tears. that claims this isn't her problem and there's no reason for her to try and help. that if he cannot handle this, he deserves to lose himself or die, whichever comes first.
there's a part that sounds like johnny more than khlyen that knows all of that is bullshit. she still looks away from his tears. she's not johnny who can find the right words to make it better. ]
Hearing it's not the same, is it? If you know how to fight without it, you won't need it anymore.
[ He's quiet for a moment, longer than a moment, his head drooping down until it almost seems like he's just shut down like a machine turned off. Finally, though- ]
I'm a coward. Do you know how to teach me not to be a coward?
[ dutch stands. shrugs. takes some steps away from him and then back, not quite pacing but doing a good impression of it. ]
So am I. [ of never being good enough for khlyen. of disappointing him even though he's dead. of losing johnny and d'avin and pree. of being too cold to feel the pain that should come with killing or with loss. of not being cold enough.
of all that and a million more things. ] I fight anyway.
[ The idea isn't revolutionary to him, of course. He watches the Lieutenant all the time, and he knows that she's afraid more often than not, because she's told him. Afraid of all sorts of things. But she still does it, just like Dutch does. But he doesn't know how. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tw for self-harm/suicidal ideation
A boy came up and he decided to go in, fight them. He was getting hurt.
I couldn't stand it. He was bleeding and I was hiding. I'm a coward. I'm always a coward.
I couldn't stand it any more so I turned on the lantern.
I could have killed him too.
My control is slipping more and more.
I split one of them in half and he wanted me to stop and I almost killed him too.
I was trying to save him and I almost killed him.
This new world doesn't need people like me.
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that remember feeling the same way. ]
the lantern?
[ she needs more information, first and foremost ]
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With the lantern on, I am
[ 'Not me' is a lie. He wishes it was the truth, but it isn't. It used to feel like the truth. Now, the line keeps getting blurrier and blurrier. ]
Nothing matters except to kill.
The voice is so loud.
Pain, fear,
[ Love. As if he had love normally, as if he could love, with so much blood on his hands. What would the families of his victims say, if he said that he could love? How much of a lie has he made the very idea every time he turns the lantern on? Anyone who could love would have thrown the damn thing away years ago. But he's a coward. A good-for-nothing coward. ]
Everything. Its all gone. Everything is gone except the kill.
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dutch could have died. worse, johnny nearly died. d'avin almost killed his own brother. ]
i know what that's like
do you remember how to get to my place
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[ He can't imagine that she wants him there for anything other than- what? Perhaps to put him down, like the animal he is? To be honest, there's no one else he'd rather have do so.
He'd thought he was getting better, and he'd thought in a new world, in a world without the pain and devestation of the world he'd come from, the years of war, without, it seemed, so many evil men willing to hurt and kill people for their pride and selfishness, that he'd be better. Even without the Lieutenant, he'd be better.
But then this world had turned out to be like every other world, like his world, and it'd all fallen apart. He's so weak, such a coward.
He'll do whatever she wants, whatever she thinks is best. ]
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she's done it all before.
but that isn't why she wants him there. does he drink? she doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter. one way or another, she needs a drink. ]
get here now
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[ If he knows nothing else, it's how to take an order. ]
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[ not usual, though dutch isn't worried about being robbed. anyone who tries that shit with her is going to have a hard time walking afterwards. the door's unlocked for him — and dutch is sitting in the kitchen, leggings and a loose-fitting but low-cut top, a bruise on one arm and another, hidden, on her hip. she's usually covered in bruises these days; it comes with fighting every other day to earn her keep here. ]
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He heads further in to look for her, stopping as he catches her in the kitchen. He waits in the doorway for more instructions. ]
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Sit.
[ there's a bottle of whiskey in front of her, opened, still more than half full. there's a glass in front of dutch that isn't more than half full anymore, and an empty one within reach. ]
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same as the way he'd waited at the door, if dutch thinks about it. she reaches for her glass, taking a large swallow of the whiskey. despite her earlier intentions, she doesn't offer him any.
he looks like he's seen a ghost. he looks like he's in danger of becoming a ghost. there's anger making dutch's stomach clench tight, but she's not sure if it's directed at himself, whoever made him look like that, or at her own helplessness in dealing with shit like that. johnny would know what to say, what to do to make it better.
dutch isn't anything like johnny. instead, she's a weapon. she's accepted that. she's learned how to make it work for her because these days, she's the one pulling the trigger and she's the one pointing the gun. it's made all the difference for her own sense of agency, of personhood.
(not all the difference, no, but a big one.) ]
So you're a weapon.
[ she leans forward a little, glass still in hand. ] I know what that's like.
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[ A weapon has no agency, a weapon has someone using them. He hasn't had that for years, since he first got out of the army. Maybe he could have excused those deaths, if that was who he was. He doesn't. He'd always had the choice to die, after the day that Ursula had gotten her medicine. He'd always had the chance to die instead of breaking his promise to his father. He'd always had a choice, to kill or be killed, and he'd taken the cowards way out. Like he always will.
He'd rather kill than die. And he's too stupid to figure out a better solution, too unskilled to know a better way.
He'd thought, back in District Zero, that maybe he'd fine another way. Now, he knows he won't. ]
No one made me turn on the lantern. I did it.
I always have. I always do.
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what she'd wanted was to escape. to be free.
(she doesn't hate khlyen anymore, and that makes everything more complicated, but those issues have no relevance here, no relation to randel looking up at her like maybe she has answers.
or like he'd let her kill him. she's not sure which one she's less comfortable with.) ]
Sure. You turn it on and then what? You can't control it. That's what you said. Still true?
[ it's a killswitch, like in d'avin's brain. whether he made the choice to flip it or someone else did — well, it makes a difference, but why he'd flipped it on matters, too. ]
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I turn it on. I know what I can do when it's on. I know the danger.
I used to-
[ He'd saved Maches, once upon a time. Pulled him away from the death that had barrelled right at him, held him and ensured that only the lightest scratch had even touched him as a tank-like truck had skewered through his legs. He'd been able to direct it then. Now- ]
It's getting worse.
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[ that's the alternative, isn't it? to stop. but somehow, she thinks he'll argue against that, too, and she lifts a hand to preempt that, brows pulled together and jaw working. she doesn't understand this, whatever the lantern is. she doesn't know how it works. ]
Why do you need it?
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They were going to kill him. There was so much blood. I had to do something.
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So it was kill or let someone be killed.
[ the answer he is looking for is clearly not "he probably had it coming", but it's on the tip of dutch's tongue regardless. not helpful. she swallows it down with the whiskey. ]
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I'm a coward. Without it, I don't-
I-
I've never hurt anyone. Without-
[ Without the voice. Not without the lantern, because back at home, there'd been no lantern. He hadn't turned it on. But the voice had taken over at one point, had told him to kill and he'd nearly done it. He'd almost killed that man just trying to knock him out. And then Ursula-]
I don't know. I'm useless without it.
I tried to do it by myself once. But it took over anyway.
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[ doomed if he does and doomed if he doesn't. but for a moment, at least, dutch feels like she's on solid ground. like she knows what she's talking about. ]
You know, you can do something about that.
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How? Even when I tried to do without it, I still-
It's getting louder. sometimes I still hear it, even after the lantern's off.
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there's a part that sounds like johnny more than khlyen that knows all of that is bullshit. she still looks away from his tears. she's not johnny who can find the right words to make it better. ]
Hearing it's not the same, is it? If you know how to fight without it, you won't need it anymore.
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I'm a coward. Do you know how to teach me not to be a coward?
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[ dutch stands. shrugs. takes some steps away from him and then back, not quite pacing but doing a good impression of it. ]
So am I. [ of never being good enough for khlyen. of disappointing him even though he's dead. of losing johnny and d'avin and pree. of being too cold to feel the pain that should come with killing or with loss. of not being cold enough.
of all that and a million more things. ] I fight anyway.
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[ The idea isn't revolutionary to him, of course. He watches the Lieutenant all the time, and he knows that she's afraid more often than not, because she's told him. Afraid of all sorts of things. But she still does it, just like Dutch does. But he doesn't know how. ]
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