Understanding

Who: Eddie and Seph
When: lateish night
Where: living room

It was a quiet time again. The big German and Doc's woman were on watch, and Seph had slipped away from a nap upstairs. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it didn't really matter, did it? He made the brief mental stretch toward his sister, in that way that was like concentrating on a specific limb, to see where she was and make sure she was fine. He padded down the stairs in flannel pants and a t-shirt with the shoulder holster over it. He'd slept in it. It was necessary now, and a feeling he'd gotten used to over the past two days. He thought in a wry way that he was gonna get to be like Doc and go nowhere without it.

The house seemed mostly quiet, and he peeked out to the front porch and the back. Everything seemed all right. The shadows were taking a while to come now, which was helping things. He stood looking out another one of the back windows for a moment, though his attention was focused more on his peripheral vision. To his right. What was causing that specific shadow on the wall? He'd started noticing it more and more, and that probably wasn't a good thing.

The second day in the house for Eddie had simultaneously been better and worse than the one before it. He'd woken from his dreams more rested than usual, spoiled by the pads and blankets in the basement as well as the chance to really stretch out, and nothing was trying to kill him. Which was nice. Even the talk with Syn the night before had been a bolster to his spirits, a chance to see how not every person like him was stuck in situations like him. Unfortunately, the lift in his spirits only lasted a bit past breakfast before problems crashed home.

Eddie needed a fix, needed it like water in the desert. He hadn't been able to shake the chill clinging to his frail arms all day now, or the steady shake in his fingers that made holding a drink a trick for him. His skin was crawling, itching deep within the muscle itself, and nothing but a fresh rush coursing into his brain could soothe it. He looked like it too; his eyes were shadowed, hair wild, and his arms were red and irritated from a continuous scratching. Of course, his mood didn't leave much room for him to care how he looked, it was an insular and reclusive sort of day all around.

Finally, blessedly, the craving had started to die down around dark, though it never vanished completely. It settled on some level, becoming a raw hunger that couldn't be sated. Eddie was trying though, wandering through the house with a slice of frozen pizza Doc had given him. He took comfort from the low buzz of the others in the house as he walked, moving into the living room and freezing in the door as he saw Seph staring out the window. "Is... is one of them out there?" he murmured, ready to run for Syn or Doc if that was the case.

Seph's eyes broke away from the window as he turned his head to look at the source of the low voice. Which immediately prompted a brief mental scolding from Syn about pulling his stitches. He turned his shoulders more to take the pressure off and satisfy her without thinking about it. Then shook his head a bit in answer. Goddamn this not being able to talk. He hated it. He pulled his notebook and sharpie out of the loose back pocket of his pants and jotted something down, then turned it for Eddie to see. Nope, coast = clear.

Sure, there was a note being held out for him to read. Eddie didn't see it. Some distant part of his mind that wasn't frozen by the sight of Seph's neck recalled the bandages that had been there before, when he'd first been brought here. But that had been underneath? The flesh was red and angry, lashed together with stitches and inflamed around the edges. it was, quite simply, an injury no one could survive. Except he and his sister both see the ghosts too, that dim part of Eddie's mind chimed in helpfully, So something is different for them. He managed a slow nod once he could look down at Seph's notepad, unconsciously reaching back to run fingertips along the mess of scarring that traversed his own back. "What... what happened?" Eddie murmured, swallowing hard and largely failing at his attempt to not stare.

One eyebrow quirked a little bit, until he remembered that the one time he'd met this guy before, he'd been whole and could speak and well ... still had his spirit. One hand lifted to briefly touch the wound that was still attempting to heal. He was going to have one hell of a scar, and he wasn't sure whether or not his voice was ever going to come back. The most he could manage were whispers that didn't really sound like much of anything. Vampries, he wrote down on the pad. Might as well be honest, it wasn't like he had to hide his knowledge of the supernatural from Eddie. Who kind of looked in rough shape himself, though Seph was willing to bet it was for different reasons. Almost died, but glad i was up and around for this shit. Voice doesn't work right yet. That was it in an undetailed nutshell.

Eddie nodded as he read, swallowing hard at the very idea of what that must've been like. His own private torments seemed paltry to what it would've taken to stand against such creatures, and once again he was overwhelmed by just how strong this family apparently was. "Glad you didn't die," Eddie murmured in response to Seph's note. "Must still be pretty painful," he added, silently cursing his subconscious for the half-serious wish to find any pain medicine they might have in the house. It wasn't morphine, but right now Eddie would gladly try an alternative if it would make him feel halfway normal.

Seph could've probably explained that he did die, sort of, it just didn't stick, but didn't really feel compelled to. Really, the less people he had to confuse with all that, the better, and it was still something he was coming to grips with himself. He wasn't sure how ready he was to really talk about it. So he just nodded a silent sort of thanks. It could've been construed as an agreement that yeah, it still hurt, and that was fine by Seph. Explaining why it didn't would've been sticky in itself. You holdin up ok? was what he jotted down instead.

Eddie shrugged bony shoulders, reaching back to scratch anxiously at the back of his head. "Alive," he murmured with a frown, fighting the urge to keep scratching. "That guy Doc, your dad? Helped me out, he seems pretty level. I'm just a little jumpy, all the gunfire and everything. Anxious to see if my stuff's gone when I get out of here." If it was? If there was no delicious fix waiting for Eddie? He had no idea what he'd do, aside from trying to scam some from the hospital.

He nodded a bit, a queer sort of smile crossing his lips at the reference of Doc being his dad. But he didn't correct it. Mostly because it was true, for all the ways that really mattered, he guessed. As much as he and the old man didn't get along sometimes ... but that was a sappy train of thought that he didn't really need to delve into at the moment. Hopefully be over soon, he scribbled. And then all the invaders in their house -- shadows and otherwise -- could get the hell out, and he'd be a lot less jumpy.

Eddie missed the humor of the statement, Syn had introduced Doc as their father, after all. Though they certainly weren't like any family Eddie could even dream of. He smiled at the newest message, stuffing both hands in his pockets so they could scratch at the liner and his legs beneath, taking a deep breath to ward off a phantom chill. "I hope so too," he agreed, "Not like I own much, it'd be a karmic bitch for me to lose it." Eddie moved with a fretful energy to the sofa, sitting and letting his feet tap energetically. "Your sister, she told me this is just... what you guys do? Fight evil? Nearly die?" There was a bigger question there, one Eddie had wondered ever since first meeting Seph, one that grew stronger with knowledge of his family. "Don't you get, y'know... scared?"

The question made Seph's head tilt a little, a puzzled expression passing over his face. He followed Eddie to the couch and sat down on the other side of it, considering. Did he get scared? Not in the way that other people did, he guessed. He'd seen horrific things, participated in some of them, had plenty of them just be in his head, heard stories of much more ... he wasn't sure that he could be scared like normal people now. Maybe of losing his sister. That was a huge glaring fear, one of the paralyzing, crippling kind. That would destroy him. In more ways now than ever before. After a moment he started to write. We were raised with this. It's just life, to us. The war. Mom was in it, dad's in it, everybody in our childhood. Get scared of losing people we love, but it can't stop us. He looked down at the page for another beat before deciding that was about it, and showing it to Eddie.

Eddie read through that once, then again, then a third time as snippets stood out more sharply from the whole of it all. Mom was in it. Get scared of losing people. It can't stop us. He knew then why Seph was so resolute even with stitchwork in his throat, why Syn had never flinched or skipped a beat between words to shoot shadows, why Doc had a plan formed ten seconds after Eddie'd met him. If they got too scared, people died. He'd told Syn he was envious of the stability of a family, and this was the price of it. Losing that family was the only fear left. "I need that," Eddie muttered, keeping his eyes on the notepad, "Sometimes, after a job? I get so... so choked with fear that I can't move. I start driving and I think 'what if' and I panic until I don't know where I drove. I think I really chose the wrong town to check out."

Seph was watching his face as he spoke, and watching it carefully. The sentiment of panic sounded horribly familiar to one certain time in his life. He wondered if sharing that would make the guy feel worse, or better. He wasn't sure. It was always so hard to tell how people would react to things. He flipped the page of his notebook and started writing again. I was in the loonybin once -- few months. Had the same kind of panic, all the time, in my chest. Only couldn't drive anywhere, so just tried to hurt anything in reach. Even me. when I wasn't drugged out of my skull. So I know what you're talking about, I think. The two people in this house save me every day. You do need it. Wrong town, but maybe only one with people who get it. -- What kind of jobs you do?

The loony bin. Eddie knew he would've ended up there if he'd ever told people what he saw, if he hadn't snuck straight from the hospital the first chance he had. "Exorcisms," he murmured, looking back at Seph with a shred of confidance in his eyes. They both saw the dead; maybe there was some level of understanding to hope for here. "Purifications. I send the trapped ones where they need to go. But I can't... I can't do enough. It's never enough for them, there's always more. And I can't shut them out, can't not hear them when they talk to me. Can't stay anywhere for long before I just see too many of them. All I can do is help some, force out others, and dope myself until I don't hear the rest." There. He'd said it. Junkie, he thought bitterly, waiting for the loathing or mistrust to show in Seph's eyes.

Neither one came up. Seph just continued to study him in an interested sort of way. In his possibly warped opinion, everyone had their escapes. His was his dream-world with his sister, wherein society's norms didn't apply to them anymore. Where they could do and be anything they wanted. He figured Eddie, like everyone else, would probably think he was one sick puppy if he knew the truth. So no, there wasn't any judgement there. They try to talk to me too, but I usually can't do anything for them, he jotted down. Just see them and pick out the spots where the worst feelings were. Absorb the energy there. At least you're doing something? Trying to help where you can? it just always comes with a price. He showed the notebook to Eddie. There, maybe that was a bit comforting. Probably not, but maybe.

"Sometimes I just feel like I'm delaying the inevitable," Eddie replied wearily, "Like... if I do enough for the trapped ones, I won't end up as one when I die. I don't really think I'll go too long, if we're being honest. Solo exorcists normally don't. And I'm scared to die, but I'm more scared of being one of them after I do. So if my price is being spooked all the time and sleeping in my car, okay." It was a bleak way to see things, but there wasn't much right now that could comfort Eddie. The effort was nice, at least, he'd gotten more understanding in this house than he'd ever found before. "Thanks for listening though. I needed it." Eddie was surprised by the thought, but when all this was over and it was safe to leave? He'd miss this house and the people inside it.

The death elemental had never honestly considered what would happen to him if he died. Outside of the fact that Syn would probably self-destruct with him. After that ... he couldn't imagine anything else. Could he end up a ghost? One of the restless dead? And if he did, and Syn survived him, would she be able to see him? Do anything about it? It was an interesting line of thought. He stared into a middle distance of his own for a second or two before shaking himself out of it a bit and writing again. If you did become, it might not be permanent, he wrote. No promises, but sister's a spirit elemental. Always something to be done, we've found. & no problem. Offer still stands, you're welcome here.

Elemental? Eddie wondered silently, unsure of just what that was but vaguely feeling that Syn was far more capable than he'd believed from their first talk. He'd never really defined the world he lived in, knowing there was more than ghosts but not knowing quite what else there was. This town was showing him very quickly that there was far more than he could guess at. "I just might take you up on that," Eddie replied with a nod, rising off the sofa and biting back his questions, "Not sure how safe I'll feel in my car after this. I think I'm gonna try for some sleep, though." Try and fail, he knew, but he was feeling more skittish with the moment, and it was normally best to avoid people when that feeling hit. Still, there was an ounce of comfort in Seph's half-offer; the idea that if he stayed behind after death didn't hold so much terror at that moment. Maybe he'd find someone like Seph or Syn. Maybe he'd get to see just where rituals like his own sent the dead. Maybe I'll sing my own dirge when that happens.