deerfeed | [video] un: eleven

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[video] un: eleven

[ The video clicks on to a young girl, perhaps 14 years. Her round eyes look a little unsure, brows drawn together in concentration as she figures out how to work this new tablet machine with the stupid name - it's not liquid. She's learned how to operate the application tools back in Beacon, so it's a transition rather than a completely new skill.

Eleven sits cross legged on her bed, half cast in the light of the strange lantern sitting right next to her. She sets the Fluid down on the nightstand, then briefly leans out of frame and picks something up that looks like a beak shaped, half plague doctor mask, distractedly scratching at her neck, where healed scars looks as though something once grabbed her by the neck. Finally, she stops fidgeting and looks at the camera. ]

Hi.

[ She speaks with a pattern that might strike as odd. Sometimes halting in odd places, or saying words slowly, as if she has to place them on her tongue very deliberately. ]

Is there an angel? Here? I need a... miracle. Or maybe. Someone old, with magic?

[ She glances down at the mask, worries her lower lip between her teeth, then adds: ]

There's something in here. It smells like... where I'm from. Home. It's fading. I lost my friend who did the... miracle. So it's fading. But it's important. [ She swallows, lips pursed. ] To me.

[ The things unsaid sit deep in her chest and ache - the home she lost months ago. The friends she lost along the way. A short, deep breath, she gathers herself, serious face relaxing into something softer, but still somber. ]

I can pay. With glitter pens. Or birds, if you have paper.

[Another small pause. She's about to reach out and shut the video off, when she remembers lessons learned. Right - manners. Or the attempt at them. ]

Thanks.

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Wait, El-

[She's hung up and she's coming to find him????

And he has no clue who she is????

Excuse him while he shotguns his entire too-warm coffee and pays for it and then goes to stand outside with the peak chaotic energy of someone who isn't sure where they're supposed to be or what they're supposed to be doing in this exact moment.

(Eleven, that sounds so familiar... god, it's on the tip of his tongue.)

Excuse him while he paces back and forth across the length of the diner, all the while muttering at himself:]

Oooh, good job, Pete, you're about to break some kid's heart! One reply in and you're already inadvertently screwing something up...! Way to go, Mr. "Let's Talk Science", you're just great at walking right into a situation...!

[ If Peter thinks this is going to get better for him anytime soon, he's mistaken. It takes Eleven a while to make her way to the diner, but once she's there, she spots him outside.

There's something different about him that she can't quite put her finger on, but she can't care about it either. About how the daylight makes him look less flat than he was in Beacon. More three dimensional. It suits him.

Instead of thinking about that, she rushes forwards in a full springt, and runs into him, face in his shirt and arms around his middle. She's crying. ]

Hi.

[... Goddammit.

Peter breathes out through his nose, and, uh... regardless of whatever is going on? He's not going to just leave a kid hanging when it comes to hugging. He pats her back, feeling tears bleeding through his plaid shirt.]

Hey there.

[He gives her a moment, doesn't rush her through whatever she's feeling... but once enough time has passed he very gently puts his hands on her shoulders and parts them so that he can look at her. There's guilt and sympathy in the lines of his face, lips turned into a wincing smile.]

Look... this — isn't your fault, and I don't have a single doubt that you know me, okay? Peter Parker, I mean. But... I can't remember anything about a flood. And this... this is the first time I've met you that I can remember.

I'm so sorry I didn't get that out earlier.

[ She stares up at him, and through the tears and the first few sobs, her face goes on a journey of disbelief, and then just heartache.

Peter is...

Peter was her favourite.

And now she has to miss him all over again. It hurts, deep in her chest, in ways she lacks the words to describe. It's like someone is squeezing down around her, like everything is flooding in and washing through her - all the people she's lost, and is losing all over again, and all the people she never thought she'd met again, and isn't going to.

It hurts, all of it, so badly. ]

You're. You... were. My teacher.

[ Her breath hiccups on a choked back sob. ]

Study. Then ice cream. My superhero side-kick.

[Man, this is unfair and heartbreaking, kid.

It's hard not to feel like he's done something horrifically wrong, just by virtue of being himself. Par the course, but it also makes him urgently want to do something to fix it.]

I'm sorry you lost your Spider-Man. I'm sure he's out there somewhere, and he's wondering where you went, too. Because I bet a million bucks you're an awesome hero to be a side-kick to. So — ah, here! Here.

[He pats his pockets down, comes back with a packet of kleenex and carefully starts to pull one loose to offer her; he's been having a habit of keeping them handy, because... well, okay, he's had his fair share of crying, but so has too many other people around him.]

Do you want to... tell me more about your Peter?

[He jabs a thumb toward the diner, feeling a little helpless.]

This place has pretty good malts. You ever have a malt?

Wouldn't recommend eating anything other than breakfast food, though. The cook here can't make anything else to save his life.

[Sorry, he's rambling, he rambles when he's nervous.]

[ He rambles, when he's nervous. Eleven remembers that, and it hurts in ways she can't quite explain. The familiarity, when every moment she looks at him she can see the differences.

But it's okay.

He's like Mike. The same, but so different. He doesn't remember. He's not hers, no matter how full her heart is for him. It doesn't mean he's less to Eleven. It just means she has to care enough for the two of them.

Her breath shudders on a sob as she takes the tissue and holds it, looking up at him with little hiccups of tears too large for such a small, broken heart. ]

Malt?

[ She shakes her head, even as she reaches out and slides her small hand into his, tugging as Eleven moves towards the diner's entrance. ]

I can tell you. Everything. You're still my friend.

[ Even if it hurts.

It's okay. Eleven can hold pain and give back care. ]

[Eleven's first mistake is thinking she has to care enough for the two of them; Peter's like a golden lab — he'll just meet you, and he'll love you. That's how it goes. Miles had to suffer the same horrible fate. More than once, mind, when the kid from the other universe got plopped here, too.

So he smiles a little, relieved and a touch proud of her reaction.]

We're totally still friends, yeah.

Do people who aren't friends hang out and drink malts together? I think not. [He leaves his hand to her, lets her maneuver them to whatever booth she decides; whatever townsperson is in charge is probably questioning why he's decided to come occupy a whole new booth, but they can just Deal W/ It.] You were from a different place from here, right? What was it like?

[ Eleven thinks on his first question for a moment, never letting go of his hand until she has to slide into the booth, at which point she unclips the lantern from her belt and sets in onto the table. She's chosen a booth tucked towards the back, and sits by the window so she can watch the entire diner or the entire outside world if she so pleases. ]

I don't know so much what friends do. I know friends don't lie. Friends protect. Friends read comic books together and go to the mall together and play games together. [ She purses her lips. ] Drink... malt. [ She still has no idea what that is, but she trusts Peter implicitly - every version of him. Her little heart has latched on and won't let go. ]

It was... dark. All the time. And scary. But we were superheroes together. We kept... people save.

[Huh. The lantern is... new. Interesting. Looks like something he'd make in his lab?

He focuses on her, though; the questions about that can wait.]

Yep. All of those things? Totally an A+ list of things for friends to do.

[He orders them some malts ASAP, and while they wait for those to get made and brought out, he listens with rapt attention. He's not new to the concept of world-jumping, not when they've had other people come in from them, but... this is new.]

I'm glad you came here this month and not last month, in that case. We had a serious problem with it being perpetually night just last month... [He frowns, though.] Scary, huh? A lot of danger there? Fighting?

[ Eleven nods, tips of her shoes scuffing against the linoleum floor as she swings her feet lightly. It's still weird - the daylight. How... normal it feels here. Most of it. ]

Yes. Spirits attacked, sometimes. Sometimes people died. Or suffered.

[ She scratches at the claw shaped scars on her neck. ]

What is... perp... per-pet-dual?

[He nods, expression sympathetic. He knows that feeling... all too well. El just can't see his scars, because his body never leaves any behind; he wonders what he'd look like, if his scars showed up. He'd be kind of scary, he thinks.

If they did, he'd have the same kind of claw-shaped scars on his neck, too.

All over, really. He still dreams about that day, every so often.

But he's quick to try to lighten the mood, smiling.]

Perpetual. [He says it easy-breezy, making sure she's got it.] It means something that's never-ending, or something so frequent that it doesn't seem to have an end or beginning.

[He grins.]

Like how I was perpetually broke back home.

Perpetual.

[ Eleven parrots it back with a small nod, memorizing the word. There's a light in her eyes then - she hungers for near words, she likes to learn. Everything that sinks into her malnourished mind is a small victory, a step out of the shadows of Hawkins Lab. ]

You shouldn't... break. You need to be more careful.

[ And just like that, she reaches over the table and pats his hand, in an attempt to comfort him. ]

Scientists... always break things. But... I've forgiven you. For being one. You need to be a good one, of course.

[Firstly — he needs to teach that slang to her, asap. Secondly... Well, this sure shakes a certain conversation with Mike Wheeler loose. He frowns, a little perturbed.]

... Monsters and evil scientists, right?

Bad people who work for the government.

[In case she asked-]

Mike told me. Just a little bit, but enough to get a picture.

[ Eleven goes a little quiet at first, frowning as she mulls this over. Mike told something. But she trusts Mike, so she knows Mike would only share what he needs to, what he knows she'd be okay with.

So after staring at the table silently, she nods.

It doesn't surprise her, actually, that Mike trusts Peter. Because she does, too. Peter is the best, proven once again. ]

I'm an experiment. [ She stretches out her left arm, tugs the blue hairband to the side to reveal the tattoo: 011 ] See?

[He smiles sadly, and gently reaches out to put his hand over the tattoo.]

... I'm sorry people did that to you. Scientists are... supposed to make life better for people. For everyone. Like how a doctor is sworn to save lives.

Someone I loved... a lot. They were treated the same way. He had gotten really sick, and he thought he was going to get a treatment to fix him. [He looks down at the table, eyes stormy with some outrage. For Eleven and Wade both.] I'm sure you must've been really uncomfortable around me, when you first met me. Knowing I'm a scientist, too.

[He'd hurt people before, too. Never meant to, but... Otto's condition deteriorated right in front of him, using technology he'd helped the man create. He still, uh... struggles with that.

Struggles knowing that he's part of the reason that May's gone now.]

I didn't know, at first. You didn't lie - about that. You only lied about. Spider-Man. I was angry. Both times.

[ She shifts in her seat, and then reaches up to cover Peter's hand with hers. ]

It's okay. I'm okay. We're okay. You're... good. Not a bad man. I know you help people. You're like... a hero. From the comical books. Almost as good as Wonder Woman.

Lucky you guys, I've been outted here for well over a year now.

[He smiles, though, his expression soft.]

I'm definitely not as good as Wonder Woman, no, but I have my moments.

Anything else you learned about good ol' Peter Parker?

Yes. I'm stronger than you.

[ he startled her once. She threw him into a tree.

Eleven felt mildly bad about it. ]

You're smart. You're kind. You love a lot. You're sad inside. But you pretend you're not. You think you're good at that.

It's okay, I'm very durable.

[Throw him into any tree, sweetie, you're doing great.

His smile twitches, and that 'sad' in him seems to flicker in his eyes before falling back into obscurity. Hey now — critiquing his skill at pretending is totally uncalled for. After a moment, he smiles meekly, a little dumbstruck at what to say.]

I meant more... uh... facts about my life. You know, like... my favorite... food?

But I guess that works, too.

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[video] un: eleven

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