Outsider's HQ, late night in the gym

[hotshot1280]

The base is nearly empty. Tara is around somewhere, Trevor believes, throwing herself head-first into her work, and Sand lives on base, but everyone else is gone. Chimp is probably drinking himself stupid, Caleb's probably already looking into lawyers for Amelia, Travis is God-knows-where, and as Trevor tries to concentrate on the movement and flow

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[caleb_z]

It’s been a long and emotionally ambiguous day for Caleb. He and Trevor did a number on some sparring robots earlier that morning, but it didn’t really help anything. ‘It’ll blow some steam off, Cal,’ Trevor kept insisting, but it didn’t. Corrine is still missing, and Amelia is still in custody for arranging it.

Then came the hours with his nose buried in books or drawing summoning circles to divine information about Holy Mages. He managed to find quite a bit, but most of it in bits and pieces; in-concurrent fragments of a puzzle. Now comes the fun part, where he puts it all together to get a view of the big picture. The best part is where he brews a pot of coffee, and spends many tedious hours filling in the numerous blanks with educated guesses until one makes enough sense to itself become a clue.

Riveting.

As he passes by the gym, he tales note of Trevor. “Trevor? Tell me you came back.”

[hotshot1280]

Trevor finishes the last part of his routine, and as the fire hangs in the air around him in a nimbus he steps out of it. He's stripped to the waist, and uses the discarded gi top to wipe the sweat from his face and chest.

"Huh? No, I've been here since this morning."

When he picks up his cell phone to check the time, the display screen is taken up by two calls he apparently missed in his distraction.

"What time is it, anyway?"

[caleb_z]

“Eleven-thirty.”

"You should eat.”

[hotshot1280]

Trevor thinks about it, looks back at the fire blanket he has laid down over the practice mats, then clips his phone to his waistband as he pulls a t-shirt out of his bag.

"You're probably right. Tai chi's not getting me much benefit, and I think Sand would like at least a few of the sparring robots intact when he gets back."

As he smooths his hair back Trevor looks Caleb over, noting the stack of books under one arm, and the twenty-four ounce cup of coffee in the other hand.

"It probably wouldn't hurt you to consume something other than coffee yourself. I think there's still some of that banquet Tara made when she was de-stressing in the fridge."

[caleb_z]

He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. At least not right this moment. After yesterday, he just doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal for this.

Won’t stop him from trying, though. Trevor has always been there for him when he’s needed a friend. “Trevor ...” It would be a lie to say that Caleb understands what Trevor is going through. And maybe that's a part of the problem.

“What, uh ... You and Corrine obviously go deeper than 'fuck-buddies gone wrong,' as you so delicately phrased it. How do you, uh ... how do you feel?" They’ve eluded to it, and they’ve spoken around it, but they’ve never actually discussed it before.

[hotshot1280]

Trevor opens his mouth, but then realizes that he has no idea what he wants to say. After a second he tries again, slightly more successfully.

"I don't know *what* I'm feeling. I mean, we both knew what we were doing, and we both agreed it was just as friends, and-" Trevor shoves his hair back from his forehead angrily.

"I feel like every time I turn around, my fucking emotions are screwing things up. First with you and me when I slept with Corrine, then with me and Corrine. We get in a fight with the Society, and I wind up lighting Brainwave on fire because Psimon manipulated me. We face Magique again, and I tried to do the same thing to Travis because *Magique* manipulated me."

Trevor shoves himself back from the table and heads toward the gym.

"You know what? The last thing you need on top of Amelia in jail and Corrine missing is me whining because I let myself get screwed with by the Witches of Eastwick."

[caleb_z]

Caleb simply appears in Trevor's path, making solid, stern eye contact. He's tired, drained, and in an uncomfortable situation.

"If you're emotions have caused a rift between us, then it's maintained entirely by you. You were my best friend in November of 2005, and as far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed. And that is most assuredly not lip service." He allows for a few quiet seconds, in hopes of that sinking in.

"As for the rest..." His hands are back through his hair. They hit a knot, but he just pushes them through, heedless of the pain. "... I'd find a way to come to terms with it. You were used. If you stay in this line of work, you almost certainly will be again. It ..."

Sod it."It blows beyond the telling of it, and if there's anything I can do to help, I'm yours. You know that. But if you can come to terms with this sort of ... of occupational hazard, I've always felt that you're going to be one of the best of us one day. And I don't just mean of the Outsiders, I mean of us all

[hotshot1280]

Trevor smirks, almost against his will, and pops Caleb lightly on the shoulder with his fist.

"Yeah, Phillip thought I was a silly git, too. Then he thought he should run away."

The smirk fades, but Trevor's mood is miles from where it was before.

"Thanks. That does mean a lot, man. And don't worry about you and me. 'Bros before hos' as the street-corner philosophers in the Slum like to say."