[Duncan/Jordan/Lindsey] - Bad news

[inchesofevil]

Who:
Duncan
Jordan
Lindsey
When: Friday, 7/15
Where: Lindsey's apartment
Before/After: After Jordan e-mails Duncan
Warnings: Parent angst, sorry Lindsey



Duncan wished he didn't have to do this. But if Lindsey had to hear it from somebody, it was probably best to hear it from him.

After his last e-mail to Jordan, he sent one to Rhys and Ezra, and then grabbed his jacket and his helmet and rode over to Lindsey's apartment. Emptier, since Marlene had left, but he couldn't blame her. It was probably awkward for her, with Lindsey in the state she'd been in lately.

He let himself in, scanning the room for her.


An emptier apartment meant she cared less about the asthetics and more about the work. Not that she had done much of her professional job. With everything that's been going on right now and especially with the entire nation's captial lost to another world, the website wasn't sure whether they should risk a columnist right now. Even when the work came to her, she was far too distracted and stressed to really bother with any of that.

No, what was on her mind was now splayed out around the living room. Dozens upon dozens of papers and photos about zenderael and everything about the merge layered the walls, both taped and tacked, with strings and markers giving a maze of and dead ends to what was almost certainly nothing. Whatever wasn't on the wall had spread across the floor and was even more disorganized and chaotic, and what wasn't paper were instead various (and empty) liqueor bottles, ash trays and spoiled mugs.

In what was probably the only semi-clean spot on the couch sat Lindsey, her long blonde mane barely brushed beyond keeping it tame, with a burning cigarette between her fingers. She didn't even notice Duncan had come in or even bothered to look over to him. Her focused seemed to be the only note in the center of the TV screen that none of the mazes of markers or strings seemed to attach itself to.

Who started this?

When Duncan finally closed the door though, she shook her head a little and looked over.

"Oh. Hey."


Confusion, first. And then a slow realization, as his eyes moved over more and more of the chaos, his jaw dropping, eyes wide, brow furrowed.

When she spoke, he turned slowly to face Lindsey, a hint of worry creeping into his bewildered, disbelieving expression. He pulled his mouth shut and stared at her, silent for a moment.

She'd gone crazy. Lindsey was bonafide batshit insane, cinema serial killer style. And he was here to tell her that her son was possibly dead. No. No, he could not handle this. He could not do this. This was so far beyond the scope of anything he was prepared to deal with that he may as well have just opened the door into deep space.

"Heeey," he said carefully, easing the door shut behind him. A slightly long pause as his eyes drifted to the walls again. "You got any coffee made? My coffee-maker broke, didn't get my morning cup."

He needed to get her out of the room so he could show Jordan what he was dealing with here.


As self-destructive as Lindsey had been recently, she was still smart enough to know what Duncan was really here for. It didn't really surprise her that he'd check up on her after two weeks, especially when they haven't really talked since then.

She smothered out her cigarette and slowly got up from her seat. "Yeah, sure." as she started to find a way to the kitchen, it finally dawned on her what Duncan must be seeing. she quickly looked up at him, shrinking a little in guilt. "...It's not what it looks like."


He looked cornered, for a second, not sure what to even say to that.

He decided on nothing. That seemed safest. "Coffee first. Talking about what this looks like after."


Yeaaah, Lindsey was pretty sure what Duncan was thinking. "R-right."

She look down at her feet and maneuvered herself through the landmine of paper to reach closer to the kitchen. Wait, there's no clean cups. Should probably find a less cruddy one for Duncan to use. Once she was convinced she found one that she could get the stain out from, she left for the kitchen. After a few minutes, she returned with the coffee and handed it to him. "Here."


As soon as she was gone, he whipped out his phone and snapped a few pictures of the room, catching as much of the mess as he could, and sent them off to Jordan in a quick e-mail.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket just as Lindsey returned, turning to accept the mug from her. "Thanks, Lindsey, you're a godsend." Act natural, don't let on how concerned he was.


"You're welcome, though I don't see why you didn't just buy one at a cafe on the way here." Lindsey said, kneeling over to actually clean up some of the paper mess from the recliner's seat. "No sense in not getting good coffee while checking up on me."

"By the way, I'm not crazy."


"Most of them are closed," was the excuse he gave, offhand and not entirely believable because Duncan was keeping careful track of which coffee shops were open and which were not at any given time.

He'd been lying about his coffeemaker too, but hey, put coffee in his hand and he'd drink it. The face he made when he lowered the mug, though, spoke of immediate regret. "How old is this fucking coffee?!"


Given the coffee addict that Duncan was, Lindsey could hardly believe him. Not that she needed to point that out to herself or him, as she already knew that wasn't why he was here.

She stopped halfway through picking through the various empty mugs and bottles to actually think about that question. "...I don't know. A day old? I ran out of coffee grounds two nights ago. Started rationing the last pot since then. You wouldn't believe how little caffeine you need in your system to keep yourself legitimately awake."

Satisfied that she couldn't carry any more trash and dirty dishes, she turned right around and start maneuvering back toward the kitchen.


"What the fuck, Lindsey! This," he swept the mug out toward the room, and the kitchen, indicating all of it, "is not healthy! I don't think you're crazy, okay, but I think you need to step back and look at what you're doing to yourself."


"Yeah, I know it's a mess....Maybe even a bit of a creepy one." Lindsey admitted from the kitchen as she dumped the crusty mugs into the sink and the bottles on the counter near the recycling. "But it's not as bad as finals week, right? I've seen your dorm around then."


His phone beeped with a return e-mail from Jordan and he pulled it out to check it and respond while Lindsey worked in the kitchen. "No, Lindsey, this is a lot worse than finals week. I don't plaster my walls with gene sequences during finals week."


"Well you probably should. A lot easier to remember things when they're just right there in front of you." Yeah, Lindsey was being difficult. She tried to scrub the first few dishes, but exhaustion led to just letting it just soak in water. She stepped back to look at Duncan. "Besides, what else am I supposed to do while Sam in a whole other world?"


A few e-mails back and forth while she made her attempt, but he looked up when she stepped back into the room. There was a brief flicker of guilt on his face, but it was quickly banished. "Any-fucking-thing else?" he suggested.


Lindsey sort of grew up learning to pick up the small subconscious signals people gave, even made something of a career out of it; So it was easy for her to pick up the guilt that flashed over Duncan's face. Not that she knew why that sudden moment of guilt appeared. Did something happen?

"...Well, not much I can do to change that now.." Lindsey cautiously answered as she wiped away her hands with a hand towel.


He grunted in reply, frowning down at his phone as he typed another response. It was mechanical, how he raised the coffee mug to his lips to take another sip. The immediate grimace made it obvious that he'd remembered why he wasn't already drinking it. He went over to set it on the coffee table instead of holding onto it, so his brain wouldn't trick him into it again.

"When you're done with that, come sit down," he said, loading up Skype on his phone, clearing off a space on the couch for him to sit next to her.


"You know you could just add cream to that. It'll probably help immensely." Lindsey interjected at the grimace, though she didn't add more than that.

As asked, she threw the cloth onto the kitchen counter and walked over to sit back down on the couch, a mix of confusion and worry washing over Lindsey's face as she watched Duncan. "What's up?"


"I'll pass," he said.

Seated beside her, he hesitated before initiating the call, a knot in his stomach at the thought of how badly this was going to tear Lindsey up. "News from Zen," he said quietly, before hitting the button to connect, waiting for Jordan to answer the Skype call.


The call connected.

"Hello?" came Jordan's voice, after a few seconds of silence. She had removed herself from the bulk of the camp's activity so that it would be easier for Lindsey and Duncan to hear her, yes, but moreover so that less would overhear her. She'd also lifted her mask enough that her voice wouldn't be obscured.


Was that...? Okay. Something was up. It was one thing for Duncan to suggest a video-chat, and even though it was it only audio, it was another for the person on the other end to be Jordan. They practically hated each other, much to Lindsey's dismay, so having both of them suddenly act so civil was drawing up a bit of a red flag.

"Jordan?" She looked at the screen and back at Duncan. "What's going on?"


Duncan felt terrible about this, both telling Lindsey and forcing Jordan to bear the burden of doing so. "Something happened to Sam," he said, cutting to the chase, taking some of that burden off of her. "Jordan's got the details."


"He's been petrified," she said, "along with the rest of the Undertow."


....


"But..He...He was under the protection of the berserkers. An entire guild of them!" This wasn't happening. She looked at Duncan, her eyes almost pleading for him for it to be some sort of really bad joke or maybe a dream. She could settle with a bad dream. Please.


Duncan didn't look at her. He stared blankly down at the screen of his phone, showing Jordan's skype icon and a running timer. "The whole Undertow was hit," he pointed out, gently, his voice soft.


She closed her eyes, opening them after Duncan had spoken. "They couldn't have stopped it. This was druid magic. I'm sorry."


"This isn't happening." It couldn't be happening. She was still miserable without her son, but at least she knew he was relatively safe. Ha. 'Relatively'. Look how that bit her in the ass. If there was any way she'd been holding back her emotions since then, they definitely weren't working now. Fuck emotions, she couldn't breathe much less hold things back now. Her eyes stung, everything in her in her felt like it had been hit with a dump truck.

"No, no..."


"Lindsey." His tone was unchanged, gentle and soft. He looked over to her, raising a hand to set it on her shoulder, an attempt to offer some stability, if not comfort. He didn't want to tell her it was okay. It absolutely was not. But at least she had someone there for her.


After a moment, Jordan said, "They're sealing up as many trees as possible."

Probably not something Lindsey would appreciate now, but hopefully later it might afford her a shred of relief. Or maybe she would break, as Jordan had mentioned to Duncan, and it wouldn't matter. She thought it would be less painful for Lindsey in the long run if that became the case. There were too many unknowns in war.


Lindsey couldn't even hear anything outside of her own head, not that her own thoughts were anything beyond pain. It might be a little surprising, but Lindsey wasn't much of a crying sort of person. Sure, she could break down a little and get a little crazy, maybe have a little emotion or anger run through her or maybe her tears will well up a little, but never legitimately cry.

When she tore herself away the second Duncan tried to reach out, giving him a scathing glare behind a tear-stricken face, it was pretty obvious that this was an obvious exception.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed as she scooted as far down the couch as she could, her voice growing hoarse. "I don't believe you...either of you! This is just...No."


He recoiled, drawing his hand back, holding it up to show that he wasn't going to try to touch her again and wow hey sorry for upsetting you. The tears were concerning, but not exactly shocking. He knew she didn't cry much, but if there was anything that would make her cry, it was this.

"You know we wouldn't lie to you about something this serious, Lindsey," he said, softly.


"Lindsey," she said, a sliver of irritation entering her voice, "don't turn on him. He's all yo--"

He's all you have right now.

She bit her tongue.


He was right. They were both right. "I'm sorry. I just...My son..."

Fuck it. She was sobbing now, her hands slowly coming up to her face as her body heaved in both despair and exhaustion. It didn't matter how her friends or anyone saw her like this. It didn't matter if they all walked out on her now. She had lost everything.

"M-My baby. I-I w-want my baby back!" She managed through the choked sobs, stumbling through them over and over again.


It broke his heart to see her like this. But she'd already told him not to touch her, so he didn't try it again. Instead, he reached out, set the phone on the table, and stood, leaving the room.

It took a lot of digging, because Lindsey had most certainly not been keeping up with any of her housework in the meantime, but he eventually managed to find a box of tissues in her office and returned with them, setting them in front of her as he sat down beside her again. It was the best he could do for now.


She wasn't aware that she had, in effect, been left alone with Lindsey. It didn't matter. Third person present or not, she could still hear Lindsey's heartbreak. It made her distinctly uncomfortable.

Sadness was not something Jordan was well-equipped to handle, in both herself and others. She just... didn't. It felt better to be angry, to say 'fuck you' and be productive, to... to do something other than cry and despair. So she didn't know what to say that wouldn't come off as commanding or cold.

She settled on a murmur of apology, again.


After a good few long minutes, Lindsey had just enough control to reach for the tissues, either not realizing where they had come from or had enough energy to really care. She did her best to wipe away her eyes and nose, but she knew that it wouldn't stop from making her look like a wreck. Not that it really mattered. She at least wanted her body to stop shaking. Outside her inescapable need to heave out every sob, it almost felt like every muscle in her body was revolting against her.

Then there was her heart...

Did she even have that any more? Everything was so painful. She didn't know what she could do, what she should do.


After a moment, she hesitated, but softly, firmly, said, "Lindsey, I'm sorry, but I need to go. Will you be safe with Heimdall?"


"...Y-Yeah." Lindsey answered, though it was barely above a whisper. "Thanks...for telling me personally."


"Thanks Jordan," Duncan said, soft and flat. He was keeping his feelings to himself because there was no room for them here. "Sorry to ask you to do this." He picked up his phone again, ready to end the call unless she had more to say.


'Thanks' wasn't something she was in the mood to hear. What, in this whole mess, deserved a 'thanks'?

"I'll talk to you later, all right? Hang on, Lindsey," she added, now only gentle. "You're strong. Don't forget that."

Before she could hear anything else, she moved the phone away from her ear and ended the call. Relief and guilt swept over her. She closed her eyes, took a breath, then pulled her mask down proper and rejoined the group.


"...Yeah." Lindsey meekly repeated, not knowing or not caring that Jordan had already disconnected,

Strong. How was she strong? How did someone with any sort of strength let their only child be exposed and die without even doing so much of single thing to stop it.

She wasn't strong. Not even close.

"...You can leave too, if you want." She muttered. Her face and eyes obscured by her disheveled blonde bangs as she kept her head down and away from even looking at her. Her body still twitched and shudder as she continued to silently sob.


Duncan closed the app and lowered the phone to his lap with a sigh. Other than that, he didn't move, like he'd just run down and no longer had the energy to.

"I don't," he said, just loud enough to be heard.


As much as she did say she didn't want to be touched, it wasn't long before Lindsey very slowly moved herself closer to her best friend. She didn't reach out to give him a hug or anything. She just simply leaned up against him, letting the side of her head lay against Duncan's boney shoulder.


Lindsey knew he didn't like hugs, but it seemed like they both really needed one right now.


Duncan did not need a hug, but he did need some kind of quiet reassurance, and Lindsey leaning against him was good enough. He let go of the phone to reach around her back, settling his arm around her.

He didn't say anything. Sam was lost, possibly forever, depending on what the others could find out over in Zen. There was nothing he and Lindsey could do. Nothing they could have done. It was out of their hands.

That kid was practically his own son, with how much he'd put into helping Lindsey raise him. He didn't feel the loss as strongly as she did, but it was there, and he hurt too.

They still had each other. He had to hope that would be enough.