There's a new world shattering the silence. A new world I'm afraid to see.

[sendmyscourge]

One more midnight passes.

The firstborns are ripped out of their dreamworlds and dropped back into Chicago, disoriented and confused, but otherwise okay. With them, comes the return of all the tech and vehicles that were down while the plagues were going on.

As the sun rises, all that is left of the plagues are the corpses of monster and humanoid,

Comments

[hey_capn_jack]

"' It'd be nice if we could manage it,'" he says, like he's going through his memories, looking for a key. No, they're not in any position to deal with each other. They're both trained to grab the upper hand. And yet the high ground is waiting while they're facing each other across the low, two pack dogs neither vying for alpha nor pushing for omega, at something that's not quite neutrality or stalemate or detente. It's an appraisal, readying itself for a cold war.

And neither one of those sets of memories and patterns is going to go away, is it? There's a quandary. He's spent so long with the cacophony of Jack Harkness and John Thane in his head, arguing on every point and protocol, and it's not as if the tumult of the last few days has quieted that. The cacopony is still going on in his head, where the urges and inclinations of John Thane say Step forward, take control of this and the iron-banded moral judgement of Jack Harkness says... Step forward. Take control of this.

What are you afraid of, Mr. Sark? And haven't you

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark exhales like he's been holding his breath this whole time when she steps back, tilting his head up at her, rather than looking down. Half of him knows why this is dangerous (all the facets, because it's dangerous in more than one way) and half of him doesn't care. There's a danger in being that quietly dependent, being that desperate for something that's treading heavily on boundaries that no one actually set, but were implied to be there all the same, because Suzie's not Allison and she never has been. It's dangerous because he knows her well enough that she won't let this go and it would have just been smarter to run, but that's exactly what Clark wants.

"I do want you, Julian. Unfortunately, this means breaking you of your need for anyone else."And he's not entirely certain he's not in the process of making it worse right now. Suzie has a puzzle in her hands, a puzzle that will resist any attempts to solve it. And by that point, he'll be terrified of his own friends, because clearly letting Clark win works on two levels.

[superiorspectre]

Suzie shifts her grip, laces her fingers between Sark's. "Let's go."

She walks with him, focus sharpening, narrowing, until there's just Sark and Sark's reactions, shifting her posture and bearing to something warm, inviting, comforting, yet solid enough for him to break on, if he needs to, strong enough to hold the pieces together for him.

Once again, she's turning herself into something that feels like safety, and she knows that Sark, like J, will know exactly what she's doing. And when they reach the door to her room, she turns to look at him for a moment, affection and concern, and yes, attraction all weighing heavy in her eyes. This isn't a show for your benefit, Julian,. This is just as real as anything else between us, and you're hurting. Let me help?Part of him wants to run, she knows, and if he thinks she's doing this for the wrong reasons, it may all explode in her face

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark's broken a bit too often for his own liking. Not that he isn't broken now, but there's a difference between broken and breaking and he's trying to maintain that slight bit of difference even if it means holding himself up as much as he can, but he lets Suzie have just a bit of the weight, even if it's just enough for her to feel like she's being useful.

It's not fair that she be made to feel useless just because he's stubborn and resisting. The manipulation- as true as it is- isn't unwelcome, it's just that he doesn't want anyone else to pick him up. Not all the way. He needs a part of this to keep going. If it all fades away, then he's left with nothing to drive him and then someone else will kill Clark for him and he can't handle that. He'll turn around and run right now before he lets anyone even think for a moment that they'll take that victory from him

[superiorspectre]

When the kiss ends, when Suzie's had time to process that partial surrender, to file away the things he's communicating and what he isn't, the things she can only guess at, she says two words.

"I know."

Those two words may be breaking her heart a bit, but she doesn't let that show as she unlocks the door, beckoning him into her room.

Once inside, she starts undressing. There's almost something ritualistic about the way she does it, stripping away protective layers, surrendering advantages. She casts a glance over her shoulder at Sark, raises an eyebrow. You're welcome to help if you like, but it doesn't matter one way or the other.

When the clothing's gone, when her hair's tumbling loose around her shoulders, the metal clip that holds it back placed on the desk, she pauses for a moment, one hand on her necklace. After a moment, she slips the cord off, letting it fall on the desk next to he clip

[sarkraticmethod]

He doesn't help. He's not sure why, possibly it's the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that feels like he should be getting out of here, because getting closer to people isn't going to keep Clark away from them, but maybe driving himself underground and away from everyone is exactly what Clark wants.

...He's supposed to not be thinking about that.

He undresses himself, which makes this seem somewhat more awkward and formal than it ought to be and it's aggravating enough that his fingers start shaking and getting caught in the buttons and it's a small mercy that Suzie's not looking at him, except where she probably is.

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing, why he's fumbling and acting like a scared child. It's Suzie. What he's terrified of doesn't exist here and with her. It doesn't exist with any woman. Eventually, he gets frustrated enough with the buttons that he pulls the shirt over his head and drops it unceremoniously to the floor and deals with the pants next until it's all gone, but the scars- the old ones and the

[superiorspectre]

Still. There's a difference between things that are known and things that are felt. There are layers of damage all the rationalization in the world can't touch.

Sark may know he's safe, but the way he's fumbling, he's not feeling it, not completely. Safer, perhaps, but not safe.

With certain lines of work, certain lives, you start to realise that the only time you're truly safe is when you're dead. She can feel that on him now more than ever.

So when he kisses her, she kisses back, matching the desperation at first, and then letting it wind down into something slow and easy. If he needs to prove something he's welcome to, but there's also this -- slow, deliberate sensuality, the process of learning him, softness of skin, the muscle underneath, the way he moves, the way he feels against her