fridgetothefire | 052 ☣ humming Joni Mitchell

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052 ☣ humming Joni Mitchell

[Public, video]

[Anya's in the chapel, curled into a ball in the corner of a pew. She's not crying, but she has been, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks tear-stained, sniffling a little, hair a bit mussed. But she faces the communicator squarely.]

I just saw my sister for the first time in almost three years.

I killed her, for those of you who don't know. I basically raised her - our parents certainly didn't help - and she was one of the only people who was ever kind to me. And then I killed her.

I've been waiting to make that right almost since I came to the barge. And now -

[A shaky breath, but she gets it under control, doesn't start crying again.]

She doesn't hate me. She will, I think, when she can really process how I betrayed her. But right now she's just - scared, and hopeful, and alive. She has good people taking care of her now.

And I just - I want to talk about forgiveness, I guess. Because it's never, ever required. If you forgive someone, it should be for you, because you don't want to carry the anger anymore. Nobody deserves to be punished forever, but that doesn't mean you have to be support to people who've hurt you. It doesn't mean you have to accept them in your life, even if they've reformed.

If Wanda never wants to see me - if she never wants to be my sister, if she can't trust me after I broke her trust, then that's - fair. That's her right. Just like it's my right never to forgive our father, which I haven't. Which I won't. I hope she forgives me. But I hope more that she's happy, that she has the tools to build a life she wants, with the people she wants in it.

The thing about the other barge - I know some people are scared or confused and some people are jaded and just hunkering down, and we'll get through it, and it will end, and our wounds will be healed and our tolls paid but the thing about the other barge, the actually terrible thing, is that sometimes it gives us no opportunity to choose against our own monstrosity. And sometimes we do unforgivable things there, and it isn't us - it isn't our choices - but it is us, too. Sometimes trust is broken in ways that can't be fixed with a week or two of suffering.

[She thinks of Cassel and Iris, of herself and Abigail, of herself and Beatrix, herself and Dean.]

But that doesn't mean it's impossible, either. When we're back. When the tide goes out and our wrecks are bare on the sand. Just. Remember to be kind to each other, as much as you can, whatever side of it you were on. And be kind to yourselves. I think that's the most important thing we can do.

[Private to everyone who was around for the Tosh fiasco]

Is anyone still here who fell into the abyss during Tosh's takeover?

[Private to Peter, backdated a few days]

So it's me with four inmates to watch, now.

[And to think maintenance used to be a warden's club.]

And the ship's going to pieces no matter what I do.

Mal volunteered to pitch in awhile ago, so if you still feel - tired, I'll bring her in. But the ceiling's always yours if you want it.

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If I get to pick? Entire story, every time.

Settle in, then.

[He's likely only willing to do this because he's had this talk with enough other people by now. Most of them were close friends but...one of them was Zane, simply because he said the right thing at the right moment.

It's becoming a common pattern with him, of late. His trust issues are still hard ingrained but he sees the point less and less in keeping secrets around here. They always tend to come out, one way or another.]

I feel like I always start with the same disclaimer: my son and I were never close. That's either an excuse on my end or a mitigating circumstance on his. I wanted to be a father but I wasn't always...there for him. I cared for and protected him in my own way. I wasn't affectionate, and much of the time I was more concerned with seeing he grew up capable to follow in my footsteps. That he could take care of himself in life.

Paxton - my son - was always more interested in enjoying the things that wealth and power gave him access to, rather than working hard to ensure that that wealth and power would always be around. After a certain point I got fed up, and I sent him away. I gave him a job out of the country, put strict supervisions on all his accounts, and told him to call my personal assistant if he needed anything.

[He pauses, looking to the side, thinking, rather than straight at her.]

And then about five years went by. And suddenly I was the one who needed him.

[A year ago, he would have reminded her too much of her own father to tolerate; now she can see a lot of the resemblance as superficial. She wonders how accurate his perspective is; then again, children are certainly capable of being feckless. She thinks about her brother, and suspects whatever happened to Paxton was probably not worse than what she did to him.]

I bet that went over well.

[Very dryly, with some sympathy for both of them beneath it.]

I'm here, aren't I?

[Giving the ending away early, just as dry.]

My condition had exacerbated to the point where I could no longer keep up the regular appearance of a normal life. The plan was for Paxton to take over my duties and assets for me on the day to day, following my instructions from shadows while my doctors continued working to find a cure.

At least, that was my plan. My boy had something different in mind. He decided he'd rather not wait for his inheritance the old-fashioned way and claim it early. First he arranged for me to publicly exposed, forced to go into hiding. Then he used an enemy of mine to hunt me down and once he'd found my hiding place he set a trap to bury me.

[None of it is really surprising. The myopic assumption that Paxton would fall into line and reconfigure his life to suit Derek's plan has all the affronted entitlement of a powerful man; Paxton's decision to respond with open rebellion and patricide seems - perhaps overkill, but perhaps necessary. An angry father made of nuclear fire is not a small loose end. It's messy and harsh and bitter and it makes perfect sense. She winces a little at the last sentence, though.]

Literally, I presume?

He said that he wanted to kill me. [His voice is dull, now. Hollowed out. He's had all this time to try and come to terms with it; it still hurts but he's thought about it too many times, tried to explain it too many times, for him to get enraged by it anymore. He just lets it hurt and can't find the strength to voice it.] If I wanted to be exacting, I suppose it could be said he tried to kill me and then the direct fallout from that led to my death. Because of what he did, in the chaos the submarine I was hiding on sank.

But I think it's all in the details. Paxton wanted me dead, and he got what he wanted.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably say here that I also manipulated my brother into killing my father and ruining his life's work.

[And she isn't really sorry at all.]

But it's - it must be really hard. To know that about someone you care about, even if you weren't close.

Edited 2014-09-30 05:37 (UTC)

I don't care which way you would think to judge me for what I did to my son, so what affair is it of mine how you handled things with your own family? [The words continue to be cool, empty. There are too many broken people from broken families on this ship. And for all their commonalities he still knows there are a lot of unique messes.

He's gazing out a window now, rather than looking at her.]

I still love him. He's my blood, my very own - maybe even in a way I care more now, if only because I've forced myself to look at it and acknowledge love and connection for what it really is.

I forgave him for what he tried. I can't make myself hate him for taking the lessons I taught by example a little too well. It hurts, and it wouldn't have otherwise. If I cut him out of my life the way I would with any other ungrateful insolent and traitor. But if I let myself do that, live in it...I don't know. I think it would start to build into something I couldn't control. [It would spread inside of him until...until he became something like what's waiting on Mirror Barge. Unmoored and desperate mindless anger.] I think I'd rather live with the pain.

[She shakes her head.] I don't judge. I just thought it was only fair to tell you the rest of where I'm coming from. Family-wise.

[She smiles, a little.]

You're right, as it happens. About it growing into something else. Something that controls you, instead of the other way around. It's poison. It gets like a parasite, living in you and feeding itself on the strength you might use to - do anything else, be happy, build your life, or breathe, and it uses you, wields you to spread itself.

[She chokes a little. But it's good to say.]

I wish I'd figured that out sooner. So - good on you, I mean, is what I'm saying. For pulling it out. It's hard to see and harder to do. But it's important, sometimes.

Details noted, then. Fair enough.

[Maybe if her brother was here to talk to, he'd be more interested. But he isn't, and so this is all just...another potential gnarl left best untangled. At least not by his own hands.]

I had a feeling. That it could easily go that way. Suppose I was just close enough to the precipice that when something made me actually look I could see what was coming for what it really was. [He's more uncomfortable talking about this part, really; because while he tries not to acknowledge it..this is one thing he may directly owe to the Barge. Giving him the time and space he wouldn't have had otherwise.

Still in the thick of things he never would have realized. He never would have stopped.

And maybe by now he would have already had revenge. Revenge he never truly desired, in his heart of hearts.]

I don't like the thought of being used. Even if it's by something that comes from myself.

[She can hear that discomfort, and some of where it comes from. That neatly noncomittal 'something'. A twitch of a smile.]

There are inmates who won't look even when it's right in front of their faces. You can take all the credit you want.

[And not give what he doesn't. Even though, yes, that's what the barge is. A place to breathe, when it's not place to be cracked open.]

It's even more insidious, that way.

So, I've saved myself from that, then - what now?

[His voice is more sharp now. Bitter and pointed, and it's clear he doesn't truly expect her to have an answer. Perhaps as much on some level as he would like there to be one.

He knows it can't possibly be simple as all that.]

You say forgiveness isn't necessary. But it can help. It has helped, in this case, perhaps. And then what? Is that all, just let it sit there? Be satisfied that I found it within myself not to turn against him?

What can it matter. I'll probably never see him again, anyway.

Of course it's not all. Forgiveness - or not - it's all about what people do to you. And that's - it's important, it shapes you. But the real work is about what you do.

The "real work". [He can't help a scoff, as automatic as it is by this point.] The business of knuckling down and preparing my soul to be saved, hmm?

[You can tell he's still not buying the message.]

I don't know what I want anymore, unfortunately. That's the messiest piece of business this place has managed to have done to me. I'm not sure what I should be working for, especially with regards to my son. I don't know what I want from him. What I expect, if anything.

The business of changing.

[A small shrug. No one else can save him, not really. But she's not sure if that's a platitude or counter-party-line, so she doesn't voice it.]

So think about it.

Suppose I don't have much choice left there in that matter, either.

[Save such 'distractions' as this upcoming business with the other barge, the occasional flood...he's next to nothing to fill his days with now, save contemplation over both past and future.]

Of course you have a choice.

But the only way out is through, and you don't seem like the type to settle for sitting around here.

[He laughs, with very little actual humor.] No. There was a period of time there where I almost thought I was giving it a go, slipping into a sense of ennui, as it were.

But then as soon as that started I was hit by another personal crisis. So no, you're right. I don't have it in me to just settle back and sit still while everything moves around me. It's simply not in my nature.

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052 ☣ humming Joni Mitchell

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