revivalproject | Who Needs Sleep

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Who Needs Sleep

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Billy Hargrove, Open
WHERE: Temba Greenhouse, Temba Diner, Temba Area
WHAT: Searching for Billy Kaplan
WHEN: First Day back on Temba, through all of February
WARNINGS: cw: abandonment issues, possible borderline self destructive behavior (in a physical sense)

I. Wearing Out Shoe Leather | Open

At first he let himself believe the absence wasn't an absence so much as the worst form of hide and seek ever. It would be just like his brother to do something like that after all. To have his communication device away from him, or to be talking to the Agrii and not looking it over, or maybe just his brother being temporarily unavailable. Hell, Tommy had even gone down into the under areas of engineering to try and check the tubes there.

And now that he was back on the surface of Temba, well, he was no longer having any damn fun with this game. Because... Because it needs to be okay.

Otherwise...

No. No, he's not going to think about the otherwise, alright? Instead there's a blur of speed throughout all of Temba. It stops here and there, like a humming bird flitting from flower to flower for food. Stops are brief, either to whip up a quick meal in the diner, or to search delicately through plants and trees and fragile ruins. All the while his voice tears through the air, calling the same series of names over and over, seeking, hoping, unable to give up.

"Billy! Billiam! Wiccan! Punk! Where are you?!"

Don't let him be alone. Please, don't... Don't let him be alone again.

II. Comfort In You | Closed to Billy Hargrove

He's tired. So tired. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Since he'd slept? Tommy frankly doesn't know. What he does know is that he goes to the only place that feels safe in his undeniable despair. On some level he remembers the feeling of sand on his bare feet, the result of him running enough to run his shoes to pieces. He remembers the door. Pushing it open. Moving to the bed. Collapsing onto it with a pathetic noise that he'll never admit he made.

Safe. His mind says he's safe. That Billy will be here, sooner or later. Not the one he sought. The other one. The one who will hold him and tell him he's not alone. That he won't be alone. Even if he was. Even if he had lost the other part of his soul (part of the other part of his soul), he would still have someone who cared.

So he needed this.

III. Burning the All Hours Oil | Open

Who needed sleep anyway? There was this whole fucking world to explore. Things to be done. Places to clean up or restore. Plants to be tended. The plants still needed him. People still needed him for food, right? Right. Yeah.

That's why it's three in the morning and he's hand examining every plant in the cumato area, checking the budding leaves for health. Nearby a few Funfronds seem to linger, trying to get his attention with their dancing, but he ignores them. Just focuses as he moves slowly from plant to plant. From spot in the soil to spot in the soil.

HE's been here for hours. Before this he'd been in the diner and cleaned every last surface and every last utensil. Before that it had been dusting in the Civics Center. Before that catching lobsters on the beach. Before that...

God he can't even remember. Hours were blurring together, as much because of his powers as because he was losing himself. His focus, his drive. Strange to think a lot more of it had depended on one person than he was prepared for. Two people now.

But the sleepiness is not good for him, clearly. Because the second he hears someone approaching he flinches. And flinching from a speedster isn't good. Why? Because between one moment and the next he's no longer standing where he was. He's several feet back, a trowel held up before him like it was a weapon meant to defend himself. His eyes are blurry, red from crying, and definitely not entirely there. Like he's lost.

Maybe he is.

"What do you want?" he snaps when he realizes it isn't danger that's facing him.

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That was a more complicated question, and the way Tony's brow knit, then he bent to collect and carefully smooth the pages of the comics might have been a clear enough answer. "Universe is too big to be cruel," he said instead. "That's the best thing about it. Goes on forever, an infinity of time and space to make another choice."

With a deep breath then, knowing he wasn't going to be allowed to just avoid it entirely, Tony had to admit, "He didn't get a lot of time. A few months, and everyone in that house was giving you everything they had. Jan could have told you, she was there...Then he got hurt. He got sick. I don't know all of the details, I wasn't there, it was only after, when I saw him again, he had no colour. He did that, you know? He said there wasn't any of him left."

From experience the Universe was not, in fact, too big to be cruel. But they could have differing opinions about that one. And he knew just enough about physics to point out entropy cancels out the infinity of time and space, but he gets it's a metaphor. He's read more than enough books for that.

"I don't know. I..."

Tommy runs his fingers through his hair.

"I try not to research the pasts of those two. It feels like... like the stories I learn should be more personally given than that. And I'm less of a fanboy than my brother is. There's just..."

God, he hates all of this. Hates losing his brother. Hates that he's only asking Tony things now.

"I'm sorry. For bursting in here on you and being so angry. I just... he was supposed to be the one who didn't abandon me. And I was putting too much on that. Though I guess he didn't choose it. And now he's probably home and back safe in Teddy's arms, and being a brat to David and all that stuff."

It wasn't clear if Tommy realized how he was positioning himself, though he did try to temper it. Billy wasn't supposed to leave him, his parents were supposed to give him stories, and Tommy got to be disappointed. "There's a, uh, poem, it's very important to me," Tony said, focus wandering along the ceiling because he was sure Tommy would figure out what he was talking about pretty quick. He didn't do things slowly. "Pretty famous, most people know it, I think. First couple lines, anyway. Talks about what you can't change, and what you can. The fulcrum that really makes it work, though, the one I don't think gets the credit it deserves, is the next part; 'the wisdom to know the difference'."

If Tommy hadn't figured out what Tony was trying to tell him by then, he had Tony's finger lightly tapping on his chest to help, "You can't control what other people do. They're going to leave. Sometimes just because they want to. What you do have control over is what you do with your time. You shouldn't be giving that away to other people."

Honestly, no, he didn't know it. His parents hadn't been religious and he didn't do poetry.

Still, he looks so tired at Tony's point.

"I know I'm not getting something here in what you're saying. Because my brain just goes 'he's saying not to give them your feelings' or something. I've fucked up interpreting you before. Probably my own shit in that. So please, use smaller words like I'm a kid or something? Because if I want people, I should give them time, right?"

Tony tipped his head side to side, sort of, because Tommy wasn't wrong, that was definitely part of it. "That's the part that you can change. You're in control of," he agreed. "If it's important to you to keep someone close, you can't assume they're the one that's going to do that work for you. Not because they don't care, or don't want the same thing. Just because that's what you're in control of." This time, he tapped his own chest, nodding to check that Tommy was still following. "The wisdom here is in recognizing those things you cannot change. You cannot change that people leave. They do. You can change what that means about you. Nobody abandons you, you're the only one who has control over you and your place in the universe and your relation to the things around you. They leave."

He could argue pretty easily that his parents, not Wanda and Vision but the other ones, did abandon him. But it doesn't feel like it has a point. There's no weight in that argument anymore. Still, he can't help but wonder out loud.

"But... what if they leave because of something in me? Doesn't that make it my fault? Even if I don't want them to go? If I try to be what they approve of?"

Who would have thought he'd ever have this sort of heart to heart with Tony.

Again, Tony gave a slight concession, this time with a sympathetic frown because he knew what it was like to work so hard to be worthwhile, and Tommy's reframing made the 'abandonment' seem less accusatory. Still not deserved, but less bitter than it had sounded the first time. "You're still trying to control something impossible," Tony said. "You can polish the leather and shine up the hubcaps all you want, and sometimes that'll work, but you still can't control what other people see. They might not be looking at all. What you can do is thank them for the time they did give you, and for the better person they made you."

That's a lot to think about. And Tommy does take it in, thoughtfully. Then he reaches for the comics, a question in his eyes. Can he have this part of his brother please?

"I think you're going to be a really good dad to someone someday, Tony."

That wasn't the rebuttal that Tony was expecting. It was a desperate, tinny relief to follow Tommy's gesture, just to stare distantly at the comics still held against his chest, tires skidding in the mire of panic, guilt, yearning and gratitude that squeezed around his heart as he tried to turn onto firmer ground. He felt like he was somewhere at the back of the room then, listening to himself say, "I thought the Soldier would want these. You know. If you want to give them to him." That would save Tony a few bruises, at least.

Oh. Soldier. Tommy considers the comics and then nods. This... would be fair. Yes.

"Could you? I'm... not sure I can handle seeing Soldier right now."

The guy doesn't know how to face Tommy's anger without prompting him into a fight, and he doesn't want to be humiliated on top of heartbroken.

"Of course," Tony said readily, immediately dreading the encounter again himself, but not about to insist when Tommy had just casually dropped the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. Still, with an inquisitive frown, he did say, "He'd probably like to see you. Eventually."

If it was the nicest thing, then there was definitely not enough positivity in the guy's life.

"I don't want to see him."

Not yet. Not when it's all still so raw.

That was such a definitive halt that Tony could only slowly go, "Oh-kay...," under his breath while he slid away, free hand up in surrender. The clothes he had tried to pile onto Tommy were a scattered heap now, anyway, and needed reorganizing across the bed to pull out the pieces that Tony might have been able to give to the other kids.

Well... clothes...

"I want these," Tommy says, gesturing to the clothes then. "Without him to reinforce my clothes with magic anymore, I'm going to go through things pretty fast. And I'm basically the same size. Do you think that's okay?"

Tony had been trying to hand them over earlier after all.

"Of course," Tony welcomed, rocking back to open an inviting hand for Tommy to take his choice. "Someone should use them. Jan's clothes aren't as easy, barely anything to her, but you could try some on down the hall, too, if you want, before I bring them to the doctor." He gave it a beat, then clarified, "Tae. Wesker's a little too busty."

"I'm not putting on Jan's clothes!" Tommy protests.

And it's not because she's a woman. He could try that. It's because she used to date his piece of shit great-grandfather.

He's not even touching a comment about Wesker with a ten foot pole. The guy scares him

Weird hangups about someone's dating history permeating fabric were not a natural conclusion to Tony, so he could only reassure, "Okay, big man, no one's going to make you, I'll deal with it myself." Which sounded crushing, but probably better that he could take his time without anyone watching him decide what he could bear to see anyone else wear.

"Ugh, don't call me Big Man. That's my nickname for Teddy. Dude's disrepectfully tall."

It's just not polite, how tall Teddy is. And broad.

"You... going to be okay? I know you and her were friends."

The most that Tony could muster to thank Tommy for asking was a brief, thin smile, with a cautious sidelong look to make sure the question wasn't some kind of trap, then he had to toss his head, doesn't matter, because how he felt about it wasn't worth anyone's time. Steve was his friend, too, and that hadn't mattered. "She's from the future. Did she tell you that?" he said. "She left Hank. Finally. Came back from England. Fell in love with some other idiot that's going to break her heart." She had a big, open life to get back to, in other words.

"Oh, that point? Fuck yeah, I'm glad for her. I'll slam my great-grandfather any day of the week," Tommy says with a shrug. He likes Jan more than Hank. Hell, he'd rather claim her as family than the OG Antman.

"She adopts Hank's daughter. From his first marriage, Maria? Apparently they had a kid, Nadia. Imagine the first time you meet your great-aunt is at her birthday party, and she's about your own age. It was so weird. There was shenanigans involved. But that tells you how good Jan is. She took in Hank's kid."

She hadn't mentioned a kid--hell, nor had Hank, in all of the years they had worked together, so Tony looked taken aback, wide eyed and not sure how to process that idea. Another one of those strange, unpredictable differences in their worlds, or something Jan had kept from him. That didn't change how struck he felt then about how good Jan really was, devastated by the reminder of just how much he was missing, making him blink quickly as he looked away with a nod, sorting through the clothes gingerly again. He had to work through the thickness in his voice to divert, "You've got one hell of a big family, sweetheart. That's a whole lot waiting for you to come home."

Chances were she either wasn't from Tommy's universe, or she was from an earlier point in time. What else could it be? Seems logical to him.

"It's stupid trying to look at the family tree," he concedes with a sigh. But he doesn't know he wants to go home.

"What if I'm happy here?"

That got Tony to look at him again, incredulous and searching, waiting for any betrayal in his expression. If Tony had the kind of family Tommy always talked about waiting for him, it would have been much harder to convince himself that he couldn't go back. There certainly wasn't much here for him to celebrate. "Are you?" he had to ask, skeptical.

"Sunshine is here," Tommy says. "And there is, surprisingly, less drama."

They both knew that wasn't an answer. Tony pursed his lips, giving Tommy a judgmental once-over, searching for the fella that he thought wasn't seeking out the drama on Earth. Plenty of people there lived their whole lives without putting on a pair of tights. Pietro managed to do it for years. "That's, uh, optimistic," he managed to say without too much cutting edge as he gathered up his comics again to make his escape.

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