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☁ [room 006 » 073 action spam]
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Deck » 006 | Room » 073
Residency of Murphy Pendleton and Anne Marie Cunningham @ Ataraxion.
SIR MURPH PENDLETON THE THIRD IS IN.
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[ooc: Basically this post is for any miscellaneous pretendy funtimes that happen on the S. S. Pandorum, more specifically for anyone who just wants to visit Murphy's room for whatever reason. So if you want to just randomly drop in and say hi but don't feel like spamming the comm with logs and whatnot, shenanigans can happen here.
[P.S.: Action or prose format is fine... although a lot of people probably know by now that prose is my personal preference.]
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Something about the way he says that makes her breath catch in her throat, and she watches him curiously for a moment before it sinks in. Charlie. It was the word he uttered when she came in, before she woke him. And all at once the significance of that name along with the sentence he just uttered crashes in.
"Your son..." she says softly, and it makes sense now. He was dreaming about him. A pleasant dream, it seems. Which makes her wonder even more what this current dilemma seems to be about. All she can do is listen. She wishes she could help. But as he said before, listening is enough.
She just wishes it felt like enough.
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He choked, giving a slight nod in answer to Anne's question.
"Almost forgot... what it sounded like. His voice. When he was happy."
Come on, daddy! Hurry up! he could still hear on the back of his mind, Charlie's footsteps echoing into a memory.
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"Oh..." she says, voice heavy with emotion, and one hand smooths his hair gently, shaking a bit as it does so. For the moment she really isn't sure what to say, knows there's not much she can say to that that will do anything to help. It's that constant state of human helplessness, of knowing words are useless.
Instead of words at first she pushes their foreheads together, giving him closeness and warmth. "...Murphy..." there's not much to say, really, even if she wanted to. It's all too terrible. "That's why you've been sleeping so much? So you can see him that way..."
Oh god. Dammit. And you thought it was a good idea to wake him.
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"I... I don't know. Honestly I had no idea I was asleep for very long." It didn't feel very long. He felt tired instead, like all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep the pain away and maybe, just maybe, he'd get to see Charlie again.
To reach out through the impossible reality and grasp his son's hand as they walk home, talking about cars and things.
Then Murphy's own guilt weighed in, realizing what this must look like to Anne. Realizing what this must be doing to her as well.
"I know this probably looks bad..." But then what? Murphy didn't know what else to say. That it was unhealthy? That he'll stop? As if he knew how to do that even if he wanted...
He didn't want to. It looks bad, but he didn't want it to stop.
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"I love you," she says softly before she really responds to that at all. Partially because she doesn't know if she has the energy left to worry even more about what all of this means. She's not insecure about their relationship anymore, not by a long shot. But that doesn't mean when she's already worried about him she's not going to by transition worry about everything else she could possibly worry about.
"Yes, it looks bad," she confesses, fingers pausing momentarily before they go back to massaging him, and her lips fall to his cheek, then her forehead meets his once more. "It worries me. And it's not just that I've been missing you. Because I have. It's that I'm worried you're going to end up forgetting about life."
She knows what it is to get caught up in dreams about what it used to be, but she also knows that isn't life. Dreams can never be life.
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The coma problem might not be so much a stretch, now that Murphy thought about it. People didn't wake up from stasis like that one time, so who was to say that this wouldn't be a continous issue this time?
Murphy wasn't very eloquent on the subject. He wasn't very eloquent at all. He just stared at the back of his eyelids for a while, seeing Charlie in his head but hearing Anne's voice in his ears.
Neither was so bad, was it? If he could somehow juggle between the two...
"Sometimes, I'd like to forget." He opened his eyes to look at Anne's. "You... haven't ever felt the same way sometimes, whenever you wake up? That your dreams make more sense than wakin' up to remember, 'Hey, I'm on a spaceship' every day?"
Because there are days where Murphy still felt like he was losing his mind, or he lost it already.
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"No, I haven't," she tells him, very plainly and very calmly. "Maybe it's because my dreams don't tend to make a lot of sense, or maybe it's just because I've accepted this place for what it is. But what I do know is that nothing else could make more sense than being with you." A pause, and she sighs, shuts her eyes, and just lies still momentarily before she says anything else. "Whatever you think about all this, even though it seems like a good thing, it isn't. Dreams won't ever be reality, and getting caught up in them so much that they mean more to you than your actual life isn't healthy. At all." Her tone is vaguely naggy when she adds that last part, just further proof that she's worried about him.
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But the problem was that it wasn't becoming so brief anymore, and it was only a matter of time before he lost touch with certain things. Anne, Heather, Alex -- the ship. Everything.
Murphy watched her, stroking her bangs from her face as she shut her eyes. A gesture that he felt safe to do long after their many moments of intimacy together. He just needed to feel something real again.
He fell silent for awhile, his mind racing for an answer that wouldn't just sound like meaningless bullshit.
"I know it's not, but I just... wanted to pretend. For a little while. Like nothin' bad ever really happened. Just for a little while..." As he repeated himself, his words dropped into a quiet sense of desperation.
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"I know," she tells him softly, shaking her head and leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "I know. But pretending's not going to help, even if it's nice. You can't just forget things happened. The best we can do is get past them. And we can do that. You can do that." She figures if she sounds sure, then maybe Murphy will be able to grasp it, be able to believe it. Be able to accept the reality of it. "I know it's hard, but you've already come pretty damn far from how you were when we met. You've already done so much." Letting one hand creep upward, she runs her fingers through his hair.
"Don't forget about all that. You're worth more than that. You're worth too much to just forget about everything."
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His eyes shut tight. Christ, felt like blood coursing through his brain...
Then she kissed him. And he relaxed a little.
A bumbling "I know" was all he could say at first. Because he did -- know. It was the getting past part that Anne mentioned that he had so much trouble with.
"It's just... hard. Sometimes. Some more than others. When you wake up and remember what's gone. And you'll never, ever get it back. Feels like the whole goddamn universe just wants to remind me."
Be it prison, Silent Hill, or the fucking Tranquility...
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"I know," it's her turn to say it. "I know." For several moments, she doesn't say a word. "I know what you mean, and I know exactly how it feels. I understand completely. You know I do. But even if I understand I can't just let you drown in it. I'm sorry. But I'm not willing to stop pushing." A beat, and she squeezes her eyes shut too and just leans in closer, gives him more warmth. "I love you too much for that."