logsinthenight | Losing Family [Catch-all Log

Entry tags:

Losing Family [Catch-all Log - Open]

characters: Bucky/Soldat and OPEN
location: Aziraphale and Crowley's house, around Beacon, the church, etc
date/time: First half of March, up to the Wild Heart event
content: Soldat lost some really important people and is reacting poorly
warnings: Excessive sadness, a temper tantrum at one point, varying levels of ability to actually verbalize, and the usual disassociation for a Soldat post

I. Ferry Fears (Open)

It's normal to visit the ferry on the day it arrives. Soldat always helps unload, and this month they have things they badly want, anyway. They frown at the smell wafting off the lake as the ferry drifts up through the melting ice. They know that smell-- they know it very well. Why does the ferry smell like weeks-old dead bodies?

Well, that's a question quickly answered. Leaping on board even before the ferry docks-- thanks, superserum!-- Soldat is faced with... actual weeks-old dead bodies! What a surprise. They crouch to investigate them, because of course they do, looking for signs of cause of death, alert for potential danger still on board. And that facial structure and rotting clothing is... familiar. That curl of blonde hair. That--

"--holy shitting fuck," Soldat whines, scrambling back with a start. That would be the decaying body of one Misty Day, right there. But they saw her just this morning. She's fine. They, uh, dash out a quick text message to her on their tablet (Misty please tell me you are okay) and then pick themselves up. Gingerly. And start looking at more bodies, giving that one a wide berth but keeping it in the corner of their eye anyway. Other bodies reveal themselves to be other friends, including a Crowley and Aziraphale, and, wedged into a corner of one cabin room, their own rotting corpse-- metal arm still shiny and undecayed because the damn thing doesn't even rust.

"What the fuck," they mutter to themselves, before finally, warily getting busy hauling getting supplies off the boat. Maybe a little more quickly than usual. They wanna see people's faces in person, after this.

II. Frantic Searching (Open)

Only there are a few faces missing. Aziraphale is nowhere to be found (again) and Crowley is missing from his bed and Mewtwo is not at the armory. Soldat checks in with the others-- Sora, Misty, Ellever, anyone they actually know and find comfortable to talk with actually-- with one of the questions: "Have you seen Crowley? Tall, copper hair, kind of an asshole?" "Have you seen Aziraphale? Kind of round, white curls, awful bowtie?" "Have you seen a tall blue cat-like person that floats and talks in your head?"

Even after the weekly bulletin with Lucius and Aziraphale confirmed in the obituaries, that doesn't mean they're not coming back. Right? And Aziraphale will be pissed as hell if Soldat managed to lose Crowley hours after his untimely demise. So they keep looking, keep asking around, keep checking the various outlying buildings and holding up their lantern fully unshuttered to the dark woods in search of a glimpse, an echo of a voice, a goddamn scent of Crowley or Mewtwo. (Fully unshuttered means anybody passing by can catch a glimpse of that little green crack, too, for those inclined to be nosy and who might know what that means.)

III. Church Vigils (Open)

When the search falls short after a few days, Soldat's routine changes. Patrols are cut a little short. Visits to handlers are brief, a quick assurance for Misty and dropping off a meal for Javert. Lunches or dinners at the Invincible are made to go. Meals, network scrolling, and weapon maintenance all take place in the church, a pew near the back, while Soldat waits for Aziraphale. And maybe Crowley. And maybe Mewtwo. Maybe even Lucius.

After the first week, it's Crowley and maybe Mewtwo. And a fixed, carefully neutral expression. They go through two notebooks, writing not memories of before they died, but memories of a former handler and technician. Those are precious, too.

IV. Rattling Around the House (Semi-open, close CR only)

Four hours twice a day are set aside for sleep. Mostly, in the empty house, Soldat does not in fact sleep. They pace around. They make little armies of origami animals. They cook mounds of food and plow through it without tasting it, to make up for the nervous energy and the lack of sleeping.

They can be found here during the two four-hour segments of the day they normally sleep, if anyone wants to come by. Only close friends get an answer at the door, though. People Soldat doesn't feel comfortable being nervous and only partially verbal around don't get to come in.

V. Packing Up (Semi-open, close CR only)

After the second week of church vigils, Soldat stops going. Because no one stays dead that long unless they really are dead. After that, patrols and handler visits don't happen at all for about three days. One of those days is spent out in the woods behind the village punching trees and making a big, noisy fuss outside of the immediate earshot of anyone who might worry. One is spent in blank moroseness, locked up in the house, out of energy to make a fuss.

The third day is spent slowly packing up all the personal things that belonged to Crowley, Aziraphale, and themselves. (Including a weird-ass little ghost thing that seems to like being petted on top of the head and occasionally followed them around the house during their pacing. It's kind of cute, and it used to be Crowley's, so apparently Soldat is looking after it now.) Friends can come in this day, too, if they want to help in the packing.

Packing complete, Soldat starts sadly carrying armfuls of things to Misty's cabin or back to the general store.

VI. Back to Normal? (Open)

After that, things even out. Soldat is staying at Misty's house now, though the torch remains in front of Aziraphale and Crowley's house since she has her own. Their routine resumes, exactly as if they never stopped it. Patrols are on time and thorough, meals happen actually at the Invincible, they return to practicing at the gymnasium on days when there's no combat classes, and they actually sleep again.

Still kind of quiet, though, with little casual conversation and no singing under their breath, and there's been no catching various friends with a song and a dance like had maybe seemed like it was becoming a thing now and then. Soldat's going to be a while actually getting back to happy, sorry friends, but they never turn down company.

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Soldat didn't even know they existed until Beacon, either, so they feel that. Everything they knew about Crowley and the others in his line of work, they learned from Crowley or Aziraphale.

Neither of whom are here right now.

"Yes. Sure. Thank you. More effective with more people. He. Maybe has gone to try and find Aziraphale. Or to get revenge for Aziraphale. He's always stupid like that. Got himself killed for it last time during the siege." That's practically a ramble, for Soldat, most of it not particularly pertinent, and it sounds anxious.

Ellever offers him a smile, though it wavers as Soldat continues speaking. The two of them speak a lot, about many different topics, but this is as 'wandering' in tone as she's ever heard him. It speaks, she thinks, to the distress he's feeling.

Her heart stays where it is.

"Where do you think he'd go to get revenge?" she wonders, brows furrowing.

A few people have come and gone since Elle's arrived. She's used to people coming and going through the company back home, but this is different. All stages of this are involuntary. Still, it's never occurred to her to go out and seek retribution. She isn't that kind of person most of the time — but more importantly, where would she start?

"Depends on what he thinks took Aziraphale," Soldat says, and starts walking again, heading towards the treeline for now. "Spirits. Robin at the lighthouse. Solis. Though. He's been asleep. He won't know about her. So either the lighthouse, or the spirits in general, probably." Lighthouse means he's dead, no question, which means waiting at the church for both of them.... "He could be anywhere. Why is he such a dumbass."

The last said with real frustration, but with worried affection, too.

"We do crazy things for the people we care about," Ellever says, with a half-hearted chuckle, as she keeps pace with Soldat. Including putting down everything you were doing and helping them. But this is a great deal more sensible than it sounds like Crowley's actions... could have been.

If this is what it was. It's hard to know, here. Incredibly weird things happen all the time.

She keeps her attention vigilant, keen to provide Soldat with another pair of eyes.

"Are people really suspicious of poor Robin?"

Ellever, you're such a good friend.

Soldat doesn't know if that's what happened, either, but it's the thing they can potentially do something about. Just completely up and vanishing... not so much. So they ask, and they search, and eventually they settle in at the church to wait. Soldat is sensible in many things. Denial is not one of those things.

"People were always gonna to be suspicious of the person with the power to destroy us, who is isolated from us so we can't interact with her, and who knows things but don't always share those things. Fact that some idiots take that suspicion to completely unreasonable and paranoid levels don't change that it's not surprising." Yes, Crowley had a preoccupation with Robin as the architect of all their troubles. It was his most annoying opinion.

Ellever lets out a long, harsh breath. It isn't like they have a mountain of evidence saying otherwise, aside from a lot of isolated interactions with her that have been positive. Maybe she's just being soft. But her gut tells her that Robin isn't the problem, and she trusts her gut.

Mostly.

"I feel like, if she were really that instrumental, she could have come up with a way better story that didn't paint her negatively to some people," she reasons, before shrugging. "If he went to her... Well, has anyone survived that?"

"No. He even died doing it once, already." Soldat shifts their lantern to try and get a better view into the trees without going too far off the path. The green crack is pretty clearly visible.

They sigh, staring at the darkness. "Which means I'll be waiting for both of them at the church, probably." They're already half-expecting that. They can't imagine Aziraphale going anywhere without Crowley following close behind, and vice versa.

"I'm not particularly worried about Robin, if it makes you feel better," they add morosely. "She refused to punish me, once. Told me just to help people. A cruel person would have given me something, even something small."

If he'd gone once and failed, would he really do so again, she wonders? Ellever had only encountered him the once, but he'd given her a weapon and information and he'd seemed... well, now that she thinks about it, he'd seemed to be the most pissed off person in the room. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised about any of this.

Her brows furrow together as she, too, stares off the path into the trees, but Soldat's comment returns her focus to him almost immediately.

There are more than a few questions suddenly rattling around in her head. For his sake, she just goes with the most urgent one.

"How long do you wait for people?"

"No one's ever come back through the church after longer than. Five days, or so? Crowley was the longest I know of, at five days." Their expression gets a little more blank than is their usual custom, now-- more like it used to be, when they first met. Expression has gotten more at home on their face, over the past six months. "I'll. I'll give them six. Six from the bulletin notice."

Ellever takes a deep, steadying breath as she processes the slack look on Soldat's face, so different from when they'd danced or even just the last time they'd seen each other. It's distressing to see her friend so upset and have very little to actually do about it.

"In... shifts, right? Not all at once?" she asks, tone almost hesitant.

Sometimes, such as that time when he'd been unloading the ferry, she feels confident enough in her connection to people — and Soldat — that she feels she can impart advice. Sometimes it just feels wooden and disconnected, though, and this feels like one of those times. How could she possibly tell someone how to grieve?

"I still have patrols. And handler tasks. I won't spent twenty-four hours in the church," they promise, dredging up a little smile again, over in her direction. "I would get really bored if I did that." If Soldat tried that, cue them getting even crazier than usual, prowling around the church talking to themselves out loud instead of just in their head. Doing push-ups by the trap door. Not even eating. (Also, cue no one ever showing up, because the church has to be empty for that to happen.)

"Oh, good."

That uncertain and saddened expression shifts to a hesitant smile as he turns his head. It's not even necessarily that she suspects him of that kind of obsessive behavior. But the kind of people that Ellever's been around, her whole life, might consider it. Her father had once camped out by his phone for two days — before the invention of the cell phone — and refused to eat, all because he'd been waiting on an Important Phone Call.

Though he'd still smoked, of course, because Ezra Zier is essentially a chimney at all times. The thought of her father, of not seeing him ever again, makes Ellever's heart plummet just a bit further.

"I mean, when they come back and you're not there, I'm sure they'll try to find you anyway," she reasons.

"Probably. I mean. I live in their house." Soldat will not be hard to find. If they want to find them, anyway. Crowley spent two months asleep, avoiding them, not talking to anyone.

There's a not-so-little piece of Soldat that wants to hover at the church not necessarily to just be there when he and Aziraphale returned to greet them, but to make sure they didn't disappear again. That Crowley talked to him. That Aziraphale told him what happened, so they can make sure whatever it was doesn't happen again.

They wouldn't mind a cigarette right now, either, to be honest.

"Talk to me about something else," they suggest, a little desperately. "I'm gonna depress myself thinking too much."

Ellever sucks her lower lip through her teeth. "Uhh, okay."

She wouldn't want to talk about it either if that many people were missing from her life and she could just hope they'd come back. It's happened to a lesser extent once, but Castiel had returned. Some don't. Some do. What's the pattern?

But she's not supposed to be thinking about that.

"Did I tell you I got two new roommates last month?" she wonders. "From where Castiel's from. Friends of his. Uh, Sam and Dean."

While Soldat had in fact noticed more people at Ellever's house-- people they care about get kept tabs on; most people don't actually know about their mild stalker-ish tendencies, so nobody has informed them yet it's not polite-- she hadn't told them much about it. That's a good distraction. And a good thing to know more about, in fact. "Yeah? What are they like?"

She shrugs, noting, "Uhh, well, he didn't tell them he had a roommate until they got to the house, so that was an adventure."

Ellever's not annoyed about it and it shows in her fairly neutral, flippant tone. She'd been a lot less bothered than the brothers had. They'd accepted the situation in the end, after some tense moments when one of them had all but accused she and Castiel of sleeping together. Maybe it hadn't been an accusation? But, oddly, it had felt like one.

"Dean seems like kind of a smartass. Sam is... a lot more even-keeled. I still don't really know them very well."

Somehow, that doesn't surprise them a lot. Castiel does seem a bit, er, absent-minded when it comes to social niceties. Soldat probably can't judge, they're not great either, but they do at least have enough tact to warn potential roommates of current occupants, yeesh. "They weren't rude or upset about it, were they?" Soldat has to ask. They haven't had any interaction with either Dean or Sam yet-- though they will in about a week, when they decide to advertise an additional self-defense class-- so can't judge them, either, but... if they were rude to Ellever, that's not going to help their impression.

"Nnn." Ellever frowns, shrugging. "I mean, they'd just gotten to Beacon, just found out about everything, and then they had to live with a stranger. So, there was some friction, but none of us settle in smoothly here."

She pauses, glancing at him before she looks back out into the dark of the forest.

"Unless you were. But I certainly wasn't. I was rattled as hell," she says, chuckling. "And most people I talk to right off the ferry are, too, even if they're trying to hide it."

"No, I was. Spent the first ten minutes wedged into a corner in the cabin with my gun out. Maybe only got off then because Crowley convinced me to protect him." They pause, half with the memory that Crowley is missing and half with the urge to smile without humor. They wind up just shaking their head. "Didn't take much convincing. I was so desperate for somebody to tell me what to do, took even Crowley's fake confidence as authority."

Look at how far Soldat's come, Elle. They can not only recognize the idiocy of that, they can talk about it.

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Losing Family [Catch-all Log - Open]

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