kore_logs | you tell me 'just give in'

Entry tags:

you tell me 'just give in'

Who: Jesse Finch and anybody!
What: PLOT HALLUCINATIONS
Where: Lighthouse, around there!
When: Days 37-39
Warnings: Possible self-harm, violence, swearing.
Notes: This is a catch-all log for important hallucination things! I'm forward dating a little because I'm going to be so busy in the next week or so, and I'd like to tag while I have the chance! I have a basic idea of what is going to happen down at the bottom there. As you can see, it is... not very detailed, which means I am super okay with just about anything going on! He's going to be particularly panicked, so if anybody wants to screw with him an/or knock him around, I welcome it. Lemme know what day you want in the subject line for varying crazy-times. c:

He's hiding in the lighthouse. Jones can't get him here. He's safe, for now, as long as he doesn't sleep, and as long as he doesn't leave. But he's running out of food, and water, and he's so tired, and he keeps finding snakes, curling around his legs when he nearly-dozes-off. Of course, he kills them, and of course, they hiss and go up in smoke, and he's wide awake - for another hour.

And then he does it all over again, curled up somewhere dark with his pipe, ignoring the communicator on his wrist.

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Oh, no, no, not this. Not his face, and Jesse's a little too far gone, a little too frazzled, a little too sleep-deprived to really recognize that it's Ghoul. It's Jesse's face and he's a little terrified, holding up the pipe to defend himself.

"Stop, stop, lemme alone, don't - shit, shit..." He mutters, curling in on himself, pinching himself hard. Wake up, wake up, it can't get you if you're awake.

He's stopped. He's not moving. Just watching. Carefully.

Slower than slow, he lifts his hands. Empty, just look. Nothing here. "Jesse." Voice is calm. Quiet. Potentially a little concerned, which actually surprises him. "M'not after you, handsome. You think you'd still be breathing if I was? No. You're safe. Just talkin'."

Gotta find out what's wrong. It's hard to tell from over here, but it looks like he either got in a fight or hasn't slept a wink in days. Still moving slow, he lowers himself to the ground and crouches. Just watching. Not going anywhere.

That's - not really reassuring. It could kill him. His own face could kill him, if it wanted to. There's nothing in his hands, but the shadows all around them are shifting and whispering, and Jesse can't trust him. He can't trust himself, can't trust his own face. He makes everybody around him miserable, right, even himself. Right.

He's not asleep, he's awake, and he can remember that he has a facetwin here. Breathing unsteady, Jesse looks up, eyes dark and bruised with the lack of sleep. "What? Don't - d-don't, I'm awake. Can't get me if m'awake." Is that even really true anymore? He doesn't know, he just knows he's seen the bites in reality, seen the dog everywhere.

"Not gonna getcha. No one said that." Ghoul tilts his head to the side like a dog with something it don't understand. Those dark eyes start getting darker. That skin starts getting paler. His face, HIS face, looks back at him with dead eyes and charred skin and blood oozing out of every opening.

He sits up straight, not backing away. No. Fuck that. Just alert. Just on edge. Fuck that. It's not him. That is not him. He's alive. His boys are alive. They didn't die in that city. The Girl got away. His Girl. Their Girl. No one's dead. NO ONE is dead.

"No one. No one's fuckin' dead, you hear me?"

Nobody is dead, nobody is, and Jesse flinches at the way Ghoul asserts it. Nobody's going to get him, except it is and it will, eventually, because Jesse's lucid enough to know he can't stay up forever. And that'll be when it takes him.

He fidgets, holding onto his pipe nervously. "M'not dead." He repeats, almost dazed. "You neither. You slept? Can't believe it didn't... why didn't it go after you? We look..."

His words aren't working. And he's not aware that he literally looks like death, or that when he shifts and reveals more of his arms, his chest, they're littered with holes and laser burns. Of course, none of it is real.

The words don't reach him. Ghoul bolts to his feet, reaching for a gun he doesn't have. Pointless, anyway. Can't kill a corpse.

He holds up his hand, but his eyes stay on Jesse. He moves it over his own chest, feeling for the wounds he knew to be fatal. He shouldn't be alive. None of them should be. And they weren't. Ghoul's just been seeing them for what they really are. Jesse's just showing him what he is. "... Nothin' but a walkin' bag o' bones, barely held together, wanderin' straight down the middle 'cuz neither side's gonna take any of us."

He nods. Bows his head. Runs both hands up through his hair and just tries to catch a steady breath. It's okay, he gets it now. He gets it.

"What?"

You've lost him, Fun Ghoul, but it's okay. Ghoul is alive and there aren't any bites on him, and he gnaws on his bottom lip, because he doesn't know what to trust. Unsteadily, Jesse sets the pipe down and crawls over to Ghoul, wanting to help, somehow. Watching his own face freaking out, listening to the stilted breathing - it's making him panic and he needs to stop it.

"S'fine. It's not gonna get you here, it's safe in here. Promise. I won't let it in. Can't make me," Jesse mumbles, resting his hand on Ghoul's leg.

What-- What are you-- NO.

Sickly, dead-eyed creature crawling towards him and reaching out. He sees it happening in fractured frames like it's all under a strobe light. The fingers of Jesse's hand look bent at different angles and he just fucking knows it's trying to drag him under. Bring him down. Take him away and out of the sun.

He grabs Jesse's wrist, bending it back and out of the way as his other hand goes straight for the man's throat. He puts all his weight into forcing the body on it's back and pinning it beneath him. Not today, fucker. Not ever--

No. No, it's not right.

The face isn't right. Where's the scar? Where's the--

"Fuck. Jesse--" No apologies, but he does remove the hands holding him down. "Thought you were... You're not-- the fuck is happening here?"

Oh, okay, wow, that's - there's that. Jesse, for whatever reason, isn't expecting to be grabbed at, be attacked, and when Ghoul's hand grips at his throat, the noise that Jesse makes is utterly terrified. There's no coherent response, here - the second Ghoul lets go of him Jesse kicks, thrashes to get out from under Ghoul and out of his range. He scrambles for the wall again, grabs his pipe and takes off up the stairs.

He doesn't go all the way up, because it's not safe up there, he hasn't checked it, but he's gripping at the railing, breathing heavily, staring down at Ghoul with a panicked expression. His chest is tight and he feels dizzy and wow, that was fucking terrifying, he has no idea what's going on here, but he's about ready to pass out.

Yep, he's a scary bitch sometimes. He knows this. But he didn't mean to turn that shit on this kid. Can't trust his eyes. Can't close his eyes because he sees it more clearly. There's gotta be a reason.

He scrubs a hand over his face before straightening and walking, nice and slow, over to Jesse. He doesn't even try those stairs, guy's just gonna run. He stands below, looking up at the hands gripping the railing because he's scared to see that face again.

"Not gonna do that again if I can help it. Swear it. You stable?"

No, he's not. But he sinks down on the stairs and covers his head with his arms, forehead against his knees. So worn out, so wrung out. He has to get his breath in order first before he can speak up.

"Mmf." He manages, gripping loosely at his hair. "I dunno. I dunno, go away. Go away, I can't, right now, I gotta concentrate on staying awake. Alive." He coughs, dragging in a ragged sort of breath. "Don't - don't look." Ghoul isn't, but Jesse isn't looking either. His brain is so scrambled.

"S'gonna get in. S'gonna find a way in, I can't stop it." He mutters. "You can't either. We're not, you're not, I'm not good enough."

"Alive isn't gonna be for much longer if y'don't rest those weary brains." He says it matter-of-factly and a little impatiently, like trying to spell something out to Party that should be obvious as fuck without upsetting him too much.

He's still not looking. Still doesn't look, even when Jesse spouts that bullshit. Can't stop it? Not good enough? "Hey. Fuck you. You don't know that for sure. You don't know. Talkin' like that don't solve a fucking thing, princess. Who you gotta be good enough for? Fuck that. You're here. It ain't over 'til you're down for the motherfuckin' count, you hear me? You go down, you go down fighting."

His voice gets louder near the end. Booming off the walls of the lighthouse, echoing up to the top. Let it. Maybe it'll get the signal through. Pound the message in. Put that record on repeat and let it play on.

"But there's no fighting if you can barely keep those fuckin' eyes in your skull open. Rest. Rest and fight it. I'll watch out here, you fight in there. Then we switch. That's the deal. Argue like a bitch, and I'll kick your ass all the way up the fuckin' stairs."

He's gotta be good enough for everybody. For Galen, for Kenzi, for his stupid fucking father, he's not enough and he hasn't ever been, and for some reason, they keep coming back for more. Ghoul's voice gets loud, and Jesse flinches, curling up even more tightly -- "Shh, shh, shut up, s'gonna hear you!"

Christ, it's too loud, he's alerted the fucking shadows, the way the nightmare can crawl up on him in the daytime. They reach across the floor, curl around Ghoul's feet, and Jesse yelps, scrambling up the stairs.

It'll take him, it's going to get Ghoul, it's spreading the infection, it's going to kill both of them.

"Stop! Leave him alone!" Jesse shouts from where he's scrambled to, but he's not talking to Ghoul anymore. He's staring at Ghoul's feet, eyes trailing after the shadows that smoke up, form into an unsolid form, a dog with sharp eyes.

It takes a step up the stairs and Jesse lifts his pipe. What's he going to do? What else can he do?

Yeah, okay, that's enough of that. This needs to end before the kid hurts himself, or Ghoul loses sight of what's real again. He's barely hanging on by a thread. Both of them are barely hanging.

Ghoul storms the stairs, keeping his eye on that pipe. He's quick, he moves fast. He weaves in and out, just barely dodging any swings Jesse might take, mostly counting on the sleep deprivation to dull those reflexes so he can get in close and end this. All business, Finch. For your own good. One solid shot to the jaw and mama said knock you out. Had to be done.

Once he's out cold, Ghoul picks his noticeably taller twin up and hefts him over his shoulder to carry him safely down the stairs and back to his original spot. He briefly considers just taking Jesse back to that big house, but it might be worse when he wakes up. This will just have to do. Cold ground of the lighthouse floor, Ghoul's vest under his head like a pillow and the Killjoy sitting close, back against the wall, keeping watch. He leaves Jesse's pipe within reach for when he wakes up. Potentially a bad idea, but he can just chalk it up to retaliation for the punch.

He goes down pretty hard. Ghoul knocks him the fuck out and Jesse is gone for a good amount of time. He's not quiet - no, he twitches in his sleep, mumbles incoherently, no no no and don't every once in a while, but he doesn't stir. Not for a while.

And when he does wake up, it's not as violent as Ghoul might be expecting. He's groggy as fuck, and he coughs a bit, woozily trying to sit up. He stares at the floor for a long moment, and then looks up at Ghoul, blurrily.

He's a bit more lucid, and a bit more reasonable.

Jesse's body has decomposed and recomposed at least twenty times while he was sleeping, but Fun Ghoul stayed put. Had to. Not quite sure whether it's more disturbing or less disturbing when the body doesn't move. Right now he looks fine, but Ghoul's still on guard.

He takes his vest back when Jesse sits up and slips his arms through, not meeting the bleary gaze. "Mornin', Sunshine. How's the face?"

Jesse is quiet for a long moment, getting his bearings, and then he coughs again, wrinkling his nose. Everything is a little less terrifying, and he lays back down, curling into a half-ball.

"Fine," He mutters. "Fine --" He looks up at Ghoul against, squinting. "Y'knocked me out." Sorry, Ghoul, his brain hasn't caught up with the rest of him yet.

That gets a reluctant-but-genuine smile out of him. "Sure did." He sounds damn proud of that fact, too, as he finally turns to look at Jesse. Awh. They're so cute when they're fuzzy on the details, post-black-out.

"Had to be done. Necessary. Should probably get you someplace a little more comfy-cozy, don't think crashing here any longer is a good idea." But he's pretty sure the guy doesn't want to go home. "Are you good to walk? Do-- ..." This is a tricky question, and Ghoul's expression gets serious as all fuck. "Do you trust me enough?" Not completely. Just enough to keep him alive until they ride this out and get to the bottom of it. Doesn't have to be completely. Not like Ghoul trusts back, not anyone but his boys.

There's a compulsion. A compulsion to take care of this guy, made stronger by the things he's seeing and the face they share. It's fucked, but it's there, and he can take the offer or leave it. Don't bother Ghoul either way.

... Might bother him a bit.

Edited 2013-01-31 21:32 (UTC)

It's just as strong of a compulsion in reverse, honestly. For whatever reason, trauma brings people together. And the fact that they share a face - that's only incentive. Jesse can't trust him, not fully, but he can trust him enough, and when he pulls himself back up to sit, he just holds himself for a second.

"... I can walk," He says quietly, watching Ghoul. "I can't leave here, s'out there still, though, I..."

But maybe if Ghoul's there it won't attack? It won't know which one to go for. Yeah. Yeah, maybe that's it. Jesse rubs at his arms. "We just - we gotta be careful, y'can't get hurt 'cause of me. My face."

"No one's gonna get hurt. You think anything can hurt me? It can fuckin' try, no chance in hell's it gonna succeed." Aside from that whole dying thing. And the scars. And Kobra mildly beating him up the other day. In Jesse's state of mind, he can afford to gloss over these minor details.

Ghoul nudges the pipe closer to Jesse. "We're gonna get you up them stairs. Together. You watch my back, I'll check it out and clear the damn coast. That's where you stay until this shit's gone, right?" It's dangerous, but it's warmer up there. Brighter. Less wrecked. Still, he's paranoid. Like worrying about a kid. So much could go wrong when he's like this.

"Stay clear of those fuckin' stairs when you're settled. I get back here with supplies and I find out you broke your pretty neck? I'm gonna chase down your ghost and bring you back just to kill you myself."

It's warmer and brighter up there, and Jesse wants it. He's been down here, in the dark, for so long, that the fresh air up above him is something he's craving terribly. So when Ghoul says they should, he nods, eagerly. Yeah, yeah, no, he won't go anywhere. He won't fall down the stairs or nothing. Promise.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay - wait, yer going out there?" Jesse bites his lip. But nobody can hurt Ghoul, he said so, and... he's fine, he got in here fine. The nightmare hasn't been stalking him. He'll be fine.

"... Alright. Alright, no, I'll go up. Come with me," Jesse says, grabbing at the pipe, holding it tightly. "Come up with me. They don't like you, they're staying away from you."

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