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Date & Time: Noon of 3/28
Location: Abandoned school parking lot out in the city!!
Characters: Bariyan (

stonefaith), Martin Darkov (

theguideless)
Summary: More driving shenanigans! More driving shenanigans gone WRONG.
Warnings: watch out there's a darkov behind the wheel

Bariyan was beginning to feel just a little bit hopeful about Martin's driving lessons. The kid was doing all right now. He could sort of navigate his way around the parking lot, at least. Bariyan still wouldn't trust him to, say, try and maneuver his way up a mountain road while being chased by overpowered masked freaks. But Bariyan didn't exactly trust himself to do that sort of thing either.

After their last lesson, he'd told Martin to meet him at the parking lot again, today, at noon. Bariyan had arrived much earlier than that, mostly on account of having little else to do. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes or so lounging against the hood of the sedan watching the clouds make their slow roll across the sky and thinking idle thoughts.

He liked having the lessons. He was just trying to decide what it was that he liked about them: the teaching, the car, the way that time suddenly passed much faster, or maybe even Martin's company. Or all of them? In any case, it was a rather odd feeling. In all the time since his resurrection, this was the first time he'd ever felt anything but hollow misery.

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It shouldn't have had anything to do with what Bariyan wanted. It should have never been about him, in any case, in any iteration of this same struggle. But they always turned it back on him.

(Why? What were you looking for, and what did you find? What did you gain? Don't make this about me, he'd said-- but it had been about him. Even if he hadn't wanted it to be. He could not be completely selfless though gods knew he'd tried, time and time again.

But look where that got him.)

Bariyan closed his eyes.

"It is," he said. He would concede. If that was enough to make Martin stay.

(What had he said to Ko? Little. Not enough. Nothing. He'd just watched the boy go and now he was left wondering: could he have changed anything?

No. Too late.)

"...Alright."

The concession was barely audible, the last of the breath he'd held for so long. His shoulders slowly sagged. He was tired. If he could sleep and sleep and somehow wake up back where everything made sense or, better, never wake up while all else was well and fine without him...

Stupid fantasies.

Martin closed his eyes, almost ready to test the notion anyway, but found he felt none the better, and the sun was still glaring and hot on one side where the window was. It made the inside of his eyelids red.

When he opened them again, he refocused on the sad, talking dead man kneeling in front of him. No way could Martin understand why it was so important for him to accept his help, especially after all he'd put him through up to then. It made more sense for him to seek excuse to leave and never look back.

Fix things here for him? Someone has to. As if Darkovs weren't supposed to handle their own affairs. Bariyan didn't seem to grasp that part, that was certain...but Martin wasn't very good at talking about simple things, let alone the complexities of his very identity. He hardly knew enough; going with the flow had always worked.

Not so much anymore.

Which was as good an answer as Bariyan supposed he would ever get. He was grateful enough for it, for the sheer fact that Martin was still here. So he owed it to Martin do better. To make himself worthy of... this. Of whatever Martin had given him. It didn't feel like trust or friendship, not that Bariyan expected or deserved anything of that sort. What it felt like was compromise, though that was better than nothing at all.

He looked back up, expression blank again.

"Thank you." It seemed like a strange thing to say. Perhaps even wrong. Still it was a truth and so Bariyan let it go. But....

You nearly lost him, he thought, uneasy with that truth. Nearly. It had been close. So had it been anyone else, anyone with a stronger constitution than Martin, it would have been a sure thing. Had Martin noticed-- had he noticed? What else had the boy seen, in that moment? When Bariyan had let slip that part of him that was alien and strange, the revenant in himself that he did not recognize, the thing had woken from the dead to walk the world red-eyed and restless. That thing that he had been trying to put behind him. That Martin had been so wary of, at first, but--

(So how much longer can you hide yourself, Kodhiyan?)

A voice at the back of his head, more and more prevalent as his sleepless nights here dragged on. Laughing and familiar.

(Did you remember that you once swore an oath to never kill again? Do you remember any of the oaths that you made? I imagine not. You crossed a desert and a sea to kill a man but, please, can you recall for me: how many did you kill just to reach him? Did you count, Bariyan? Did you care?)

(If he had met you then, do you think you could have still tricked him into this?)

(But you will show your hand again. Soon. You know that you will and you know what is to come. You will let this one down, too. Just as you let me down.)

(Bastard.)

Thank him? Martin practically winced. He wasn't doing anything praiseworthy at all! Please don't say that...!

"N--Uh..." He fidgeted, frowning. "What do you...want me to do?"

Martin's voice snapped Bariyan out of his thoughts and back into the present. Good. Better to be here than stuck in the confines of his own mind and all the voices that lived there. He knew he couldn't stave them off forever but it helped when he had other things to deal with, things in physical space, in reality.

"Nothing for now. Just...." Bariyan sighed. And almost inaudibly, finished, "Forgive me."

Then he stood back up, brushing himself off, expression settling back into that blankness that he had grown used to. "Come on. I'll walk you back."

Forgive what? he wanted to ask, but he let the question die in his throat. He didn't want to know – not right then and there, with the sun glaring and his head starting to throb, wiped out from all kinds of panic. Sleep and sleep and wake up where everything makes sense...

Or never again.

"Yes, sir," he murmured, looking down at his feet, toes of his shoes barely grazing the concrete from where he sat. He slid until they settled flat, pushing out of the car slowly – but not slow enough to avoid the dizzy feeling of going from stillness to motion. He dragged the heel of a hand across his forehead, as if to scrape the feeling right out.

He squinted up at Bariyan, mouth tugging a little as he swallowed, shoulders dropping with an exhale. Alright...

It took Bariyan a moment to get his bearings straight and figure out the shortest way to get back to the Hold from here. Once that was done he immediately started walking. He felt more relieved for it; it was just more natural to be on the move.

He'd figure out what to do about that car later.

He had one more thing to tell Martin that he'd forgotten about in all that chaos. But Bariyan didn't say anything during the walk. There'd been a lot of words back there, a lot more talking than he was used to now. He could think of no natural segue away from it. So he let the silence sit and he let himself turn the conversation back over in his head, picking at both his words and Martin's. Not searching for mistakes or oddities or anything, yet. Only trying to commit it to memory. Only trying to calm down.

Martin followed along in silence, walking in Bariyan's shadow best he could. Whatever morning clouds there had been were dispersed, much to his disappointment. It was too warm for his liking. Tired. Unhappy.

With the first familiar shape of a building in sight, his shuffling slowed, shading his eyes as he looked up. He shot a tentative glance at Bariyan's back.

"I know where to go...from here."

"Sure." Bariyan stopped walking. He felt... not much. Resigned. He should have felt tired.

He did a half-turn, looking back at Martin from over his shoulder, and cleared his throat. "Hey. So... I might be around for the next couple days."

Which was probably for the best. It would give them both time. It would be for the best so long as nothing happened in the meantime, anyway.

Leaving? Martin thought, brow beginning to furrow. But everyone said no one could go anywhere – and when someone did, everyone clamored for them to come back!

"Where?" he asked, frowning more and more. "What's happening?"

He struggled a moment with the decision of whether to tell Martin or not. What was the worst that could happen? That the Initiative would get wind of their plans? The message had already been posted on the network. It wasn't hard to figure out, but no one had made any attempt to stop them yet. Or that Martin might try to follow? He could certainly try, but he was not likely to succeed.

Bariyan sighed. "A couple of us are planning to cross the water into... that empire out there. It doesn't concern you." Which was not entirely truthful, but Martin didn't need to know that.

Martin felt a knot of a different kind form in his gut.

"Why?" he pressed, louder, urgent. "What's over there? What're you going for?" Is there...is there even a chance there's a way...?

Oh. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all. Too late to take it back now, though.

"Because they've told us very little about these... people that we're fighting," Bariyan said, with a shrug. "So. It seems easier to go see for ourselves."

And to see if they can you send you home, if the Initiative won't. That was the part that Bariyan would not say. He would not give Martin false hopes. He had made enough mistakes here already.

He didn't need to; Martin was already filling in the blanks with his own desperate hopes. He straightened up out of his slouch, as if to make himself more persuasive.

"Can I come, too? To see...I mean, maybe there's more there than...than people here've said, so..."

Upon seeing Martin's hopefulness, Bariyan's mouth twitched into a strained, uncomfortable line. No. Of course not. And that answer would've been immediate if the last refusal hadn't been so fresh in Bariyan's mind.

He caught his breath, paused, and quietly said, "No, Martin. You have to stay. But I promise, I will tell you everything that I find or see there."

Assuming that he could come back. That was a worry, though a small one. Bariyan wasn't going to die, of course, but he did realize that it wasn't impossible to trap him down. Or lock him out.

"I wouldn't cause trouble," he insisted, hands curling into fists, bunching up bits of his vest. "I wouldn't even talk, just look. I, I mean, I've...I've never been on a boat before, but I wouldn't complain or say anything. Please?"

"It's not--" Oh, gods. All right. Count that as yet another mistake made today. Bariyan should have lied.

He raised a hand to the back of his neck, gaze shifting down and away, grimacing. "No, Martin. I'm sorry. It'll--" What, be dangerous? It had been dangerous here, too. That wasn't a good enough excuse. "--we can only afford to take so many people. And I don't want you to suffer the fallout, if there is any. Better that you had nothing to do with it."

"But, I..." A couple sounds, the starts of words in protest, stuck in his throat, his nose, and preceded little else. More closed doors and refusals.

And what could he say to convince? Please? What qualities did he have that would be at all worthwhile for an expedition in so much water? He'd no doubt be more trouble than help, he knew. He knew, but...but he wished he was better.

His gaze dropped, shoulders sagging.

"Yes, sir."

He almost wished that Martin would put up more of a fight. Almost. It was painful to watch him fold up so easily, every time. But of all the things that Bariyan had said and done wrong today, he was at least certain that keeping Martin off this expedition was the right thing to do. Especially considering the many doubts that he had about the upcoming trip.

"Not 'sir', remember." A gentle reminder. He started to reach a hand out to Martin, then changed his mind halfway through the action and folded his arms across his chest instead. "I'm sorry. We should be back within the week. I promise I will let you know everything that happens."

Martin's sorry was mumbled, almost inaudible, but very definitely there. Of course it was – it's all he tended to say, wasn't it? He nodded a little, too, a glance flickering up at the promise. It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was...something, he supposed. Something else to hope for while stuck in limbo...

He didn't feel very reassured, however, right at that moment.

"Alright."

Bariyan nodded. "Off with you then, kiddo." Gods, now he was obligated to find something, wasn't he? Something useful. Something hopeful. He owed as much, anyway.

He stepped back, swallowed. "And... I'm sorry about today. Again." Hard, awkward words. Said once, said again. He was not certain that he would ever find the words to express his sorrow, though.

Martin left without another word of protest. Or much word of anything. Dismissed, still of no use to anyone, he was too tired and too sad to even want to try to contest it.

Sorry? Why? It never really clicked when people apologized to him. Maybe it never would. Or should.

It wasn't something he thought on too hard at the time; he had to watch where he was going and look for the right building with the right stairs. Then...then he had to hope the people he shared space with were out enjoying that awful, too-bright day, so he could hide without any question or possibility of words. He was spent on them.

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