sirenspull_logs | My irreplaceable you Just to look at you

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My irreplaceable you Just to look at you

Who: Diego~~dot~~ Armando and Mia Fey
When: 3rd July, around 4pm.
Where: Diego and co.'s apartment.
Summary: Sometimes reunions can come as quite a shock... especially when they're unexpected. Diego comes home to find the last person he ever expected sleeping on his couch.
Warnings: Angst. And a lot of confusion.

[Mia's headache was beginning to wear off several hours after she had woken up in the middle of the baseball field and even after meeting up with Maya and beginning to let some of the situation sink in, she still couldn't get past the impression that everything was spiralling out of control in some way. It was one thing finding out you weren't dead and stranded in the middle of a thoroughly unorthodox island in Canada, it was quite another to discover that you had family in same situation.

After Mia had managed to pick at some kind of light lunch- the residual nausea hadn't gone away fully even after all this time- she had finally given in to the urge to fall asleep on the sofa. It had been too inviting not to, and on top of everything that had happened that day, she was utterly exhausted. At some point, her lap had been invaded by a small, purring ball of fur, who was doing his level best to be hospitable. Mia, however was far too deeply asleep to mind or protest.

The clock reads 3.55 pm. Mia is asleep, Maya had vanished on an errand and all is still in the apartment.]

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[Kitten.

She's missed hearing him say that, it's with a strange feeling of joy that's almost painful that she hears it now. She's sure she's going to cry (ha, so much for thinking she was already done with the waterworks after reuniting with Maya) and make an ass of herself in front of him.

She doesn't know what to say; she's always hated being lost for words around him, it makes her feel like a silly intern with a tongue too big for her mouth, and then she realises that this is probably one of those moments that doesn't need words. She needs to prove to herself that this is real, and there's one way to do that.

She closes the distance and reaches for his hand.]

I'm not... I'm not having some weird, concussed dream am I? You're really awake?

[He can't close his "eyes" with the visor. Even if he could, he wouldn't, taking in everything about her. Her face, how she looks just slightly older now, the way she carries herself. He allows her to take his hand and as she does, and he feels that she's warm, real... he closes his eyes beneath the visor and lets out a shuddering breath.]

Last I checked.

Ha...! [A brief, weak laugh.] Though I'm not so sure all of a sudden.

[His hand is warm and alive as she closes her fingers around his.]

What makes you think that? Was it the monsters or the baseball field in the middle of Canada that tipped you off?

[She pauses for just a moment, and then she can't keep up the pretense of keeping her cool around him. Life's too short. She lets go of his hand just long enough to throw her arms around him and hold him as close as she can, fiercely hiding her face against his shirt so he can't see that she's crying in earnest now.]

I missed you so much, you stupid, stupid idiot.

[Her voice catches and is muffled against his chest, and she just closes her eyes and lets the familiar scent of him- laced with coffee as always- wash over her.]

[He's been frozen thus far, but the moment she puts her arms around him there is no more hesitation. His arms wrap around her in a tight embrace, holding her tightly and fighting back tears of his own.

She feels... exactly as he remembered. Her height, her frame, her hair, the scent of her shampoo, it's all exactly like he can still recall, as though it was only yesterday. He presses her to his chest, lowering his head and cradling her there even as his knees feel like they're going to give out.]

You're here. You're you. It's really you.

[He makes another noise, some cross between a laugh and a sob, and his hands are shaky on her back.]

You're alive.

[For a while Mia doesn't say anything; she can't say anything. It's all too much, much too much. First getting here and then getting to see Maya again and hold her baby sister in her own arms and now this. Now she's the one being held and it occurs to her that she's not been held this way for a very long time.

It had been the last time she'd seen him, just before they'd kissed each other goodbye.

And then there'd been a phone-call.

Mia screws her eyes tightly shut against the memory, inhales shakily. He smells the same, she can feel his heart racing beneath her cheek. It's there, it's strong and it's fast and it's there, it's not an obnoxious shrill beep on a heart monitor beside his bed. It's amazing, the doctors had warned her, they'd told her he'd never be the same if he woke up, and yet here he is, awake and breathing and he's holding her again.]

It's really me.

[She feels his hands trembling, and though she doesn't want to break the embrace or the strange spell of calm that's fallen over them, it's enough to make her to slide her hands free from his waist and reach to cup his face in her hands and look him in his eyes.

She meets nothing but metal and red glass, and it startles her.

What on earth is he doing wearing those strange goggles anyway?]

And it's really you- you're really awake and you-

[She has to take her hand from his cheek for a second to wipe her eyes, but she lays it against his face again to brush her thumb over his cheek beneath the metal.]

How long-? When did you wake up? When did you get here?

[His arms wrap around her shoulders, fingers gripping at her tightly as though he's afraid she's going to slip through them again. He's perfectly content to hold onto her as long as she'll allow him to. It could have been an hour that they stood there, as well as his sense of time is working.

He surrenders his face to her touch, feeling a strange, sick feeling of shame as she looks at him. God, does he wish he could just rip off this stupid visor and see her with his own eyes. What must she be thinking, looking at him? Comparing him to the way he was before? Wondering what kind of a freak he is, looking like this now?

Diego lets out a shuddering breath as she strokes his cheek, lowering his face.]

Three years ago. November 10th. 2017. And I've been here for... nearly two years now.

[November 10th. 2017.

Mia looks startled as she realises that the last time she'd been with Maya and Phoenix in the courthouse, Diego had been awake for four months. She hadn't known, how could she have known? And even if she had, what could she have done about it?

It wasn't as though she could have been there.

She'd been told that the strange machine that brought everyone there had the ability to take anybody from anywhere, but even so it made it a strange thing to think about, the idea that all this time had passed. It was strange enough thinking that Maya was now twenty in the year 2012; it strikes Mia with a pang that she's missed so much of their lives and she'd had no idea.

Well that was all going to change now.

Three years ago. He would have been 33... so now, if it's July, he's turning 36 next month. August 15th... followed by-

She looks at his hands on her shoulders, and it's the little glint of silver on the pointer finger of his left hand that catches her attention. That's the ring she gave him for his birthday.

Her eyes drift to his face again and there's so much she can't tell from it with half hidden by that weird mask. She wants to look him in the eyes.]

I'd say you haven't aged a day, but I can't tell with this thing on your face.

[He squeezes her shoulders and still can't bear to look away from her face, no matter how much he wants to. He doesn't want her to have to stare into the metal thing that is his face. Isn't it hurting her eyes to glare into red light instead of human eyes?

He smiles at her remark, one of his cryptic and impossible-to-read ones, made even more difficult to decrypt by the mask covering half of his face.]

I wouldn't quite say that, kitten.

[He has aged. So, so much... far more than five years in a coma and three wandering through life alone. He's aged decades in that time, physically and sometimes, it feels like mentally.]

It's not exactly a fashion statement.

I was going to say; it doesn't look like your kind of thing at all, unless you're going for a whole new look these days.

[That's a familiar smile, one she's always been unable to decipher. She's got so out of practice reading him, or maybe he's changed in all this time. Seven years is a long time... it is seven years, isn't it? No, it's eight. Life went on after she died, after all. She knows she'd changed in the years since she'd lost him, and then, after death, she'd gained a whole new perspective on things too.

But she knows what that smile means, even if she can't read it. It means he's keeping something to himself, and it always used to drive her crazy, and he knew. Today... it makes her sad. It makes her feel, for a brief moment, that something's not right.

She chalks it up to paranoia, but even telling herself that she still feels uneasy.]

What is it?

[The smile it fades to is a slightly more sincere one, still muted by not quite knowing what to feel in all of this. He reaches up and idly smooths his fingers over the edge of the visor.

Normally words are his greatest strength, but right now they're coming so slowly. So uselessly. Everything he can think of to say sounds stupid, inadequate. How can he possibly tell her all that's gone on in the past few years?]

My eyes.

[He shyly reaches to smooth his fingers through her hair.]

What's wrong with them?

[She lets him play with her hair, taking a brief moment to reacquaint herself to the feeling. It's been so long but it's so intimately familiar to her that it feels like it could have been just yesterday that he last did this. She won't let it distract her, she's still looking at him carefully, at the strong line of his jaw and the tip of his nose poking out from under that strange visor he's wearing. It's so strange to be looking at him and not meeting those dark brown eyes she knows so well.

The doctors had said there'd be complications if he ever woke up. She'd been numb to most of it at the time, listening mutely as they listed worst case scenario after worst case scenario, but looking at him now she can't see how any of that could have-

Of course she can't see any damage. He's hiding it.]

How bad are they?

[He twirls a strand around his finger idly, still taking in the little subtleties of her face. It was amazing how well he could remember them all even after this long. How often had he thought about her these years? His memories of her had never faded, not even a little bit.

He doesn't answer her questions for a moment, lowering his head slightly. Without speaking, he reaches for her hands and guides them up to his face, pressing her fingers to either side of the visor. With a gentle tug it lifts, the lights flickering off as it comes away in her hands.

There's a scar across his nose now, thin and healed over, and his eyes are closed. He opens them to glance in her direction-- a blind glance, through her rather than at her, the dark brown of his eyes long faded, muted and milky.

There is no mistaking it. He's blind.]

[She's surprised when he moves her hands to the visor, even more surprises when he shows her how to take it off.

It feels lighter than she thought it would.

She takes a second to look at it, at the strange technology that is so completely alien, then looks up at his face and she can't help the small, surprised sound that's half way between a sob and a gasp as she sees what's become of his face.]

Oh Diego, sweetheart...

[She's not a doctor, but she knows what she sees. The visor rests in one hand as she brushes her fingers against his cheek again, traces the end of the scar as it creeps across towards his cheek. He looks haunted and tired, she doesn't recognise the lines on his face anymore and she feels both grief and fury churning in her stomach.

Dahlia Hawthorne, if she could hunt you down and convict her a thousand times more for this, she swears she would.

It was too much to ask that she'd get the man she loved back whole from all of that.

But he's here. This is going to be hard, but he's here and he's alive and awake, and it changes nothing. She takes a long look at his face, noting the changes, sees how he looks older than his time but he carries it all around his poor, ruined eyes.

She doesn't realise how long she's said nothing, but when she does her voice is tight in her throat. She wants to cry again but she doesn't think she has it left in her today.]

...I never should have let you go alone. I'm so sorry.

Edited 2012-07-06 05:58 (UTC)

[He can't remember the last time he felt so anxious, standing there in silence and unable to see, unable to guess what she's thinking. How disappointed she must be to see him like this, faded and tired, a mere shadow of the man he used to be. He opens his lips once or twice, as though to speak, but it's an utterly empty motion. He has no words.

Diego manages to keep his face calm and stoic, the way he always used to be able to when he was a defense attorney. But when she says his name, calls him "sweetheart"- his eyes close quickly and he can't hide the emotion on his face-- shame, sorrow and heartbreak. He lowers his face, reaching to wrap his arms around her again, a slow and awkward motion since he can't see where she is, precisely.]

I was arrogant. It wasn't your fault, kitten, it was...

[His. All his. This was what he deserved. His comeuppance for his arrogance and pride.]

Edited 2012-07-06 06:10 (UTC)

[She meets him halfway, steps into his arms and meets his hesitance with nothing but her own lack of reservations. It's not quite right, he's a little off, but she adjusts herself and holds him again, the visor still in her hands and resting against his back.]

I know, I know. But I got her, Diego. It took me a little while to do it and I was too late to save the poor guy she suckered in before Phoenix, but I caught her and I exposed her for the murdering little witch she was in front of everyone.

[She turns her head towards him, unaware that he's blaming himself, and she quickly presses a kiss against his jaw, the only place she can reach with him holding her like this, and clutches his shirt with her free hand.]

And you don't have to tell me you're arrogant, I still remember that much.

[His eyes are still closed. He'd rather do that and feel semi-normal than to leave them open and blind, underlining the fact that they're useless. He holds her close as though if he lets her out of his arms, she'll vanish back into thin air.]

I know you did. I read all about it. You made quite a name for yourself.

[At that, he lets out a weak laugh, the slightest of smiles on his lips.]

Heh... So much for that little kitten in the lion's den. You were the queen of the jungle.

[She laughs back, face pressed against his shoulder. Oh god, it's one of his stupid cat analogies and she'd forgotten he used to just throw them in there in casual conversation- along with the coffee metaphors- and deep down she knows it's going to be okay. Blind though he may be, aged though he may be, he's still the irrepressible Diego Armando she remembers.]

I never would have got there if it hadn't been for you.

[She sighs against him, composing herself and letting him get his fill of holding her while she does the same. Half an hour ago and she hadn't even had the foggiest idea that he was here and now...

What's he doing here in Maya's apartment anyway?

...oh it doesn't matter. Obviously they know each other, and the fact that he comes and goes easily from her little sister's place makes her smile against his shirt. Of course Maya would like him. Of course he'd like her. She always knew they would get along, when they eventually met.

And she'd missed it.]

I told you in person, you know. Every time I won a trial. It's probably a good thing you don't remember that, the reruns were a little repetitive.

Ha...! All I did was give you a little nudge.

[He reaches up, awkwardly smoothing a hand over the back of her hair. He reaches for her hands again, guiding her to putting the visor back over his eyes-- Diego wants to see more of her. He's waited so long to see her.

Once his visor is back in place, the lights flicker back on and he looks noticeably less nervous. Being unable to see makes him a little more stilted and uncomfortable. Getting his vision back at least allows him not to worry about what's going on around him, how much his face gives away or what her expression looks like.]

I wish I remembered your visits. [He wishes he could remember any of that time, any of it at all. It was all just a long, deep sleep to him.

It's much easier to talk about the present than the past. Smiling at her, he reaches up to stroke her hair again.]

When did you get here? Are you all right?

[She's glad he doesn't remember. Most of the early ones hadn't been pretty, she'd been full of grief and anger and denial in those first few weeks, there'd been ugly words slung around and even uglier sobbing on his bed and she'd clung to his hand and called him every name under the sun for not being awake to chastise her for it. They'd mellowed as time went by, as she picked up her life again and went back to living it instead of wasting away in his hospital room along side him.

She had had a job to do, and he would have hated to have seen her like that.

The visor goes back on and he relaxes, and Mia takes a moment to appreciate the smile on his face. She returns it with one of her own, but she doesn't let go of his hands when the visor's back in place.]

I got here this morning. I'm concussed, I'm confused and I think I want-

[She stops herself from saying "to sleep until next Thursday," because that is not going to go over well, she imagines, and she just got him to smile again.

She covers her faux pas with a laugh, because suddenly, looking at his smile, she feels strangely giddy.]

I think I really, really need a cup of coffee.

[He's probably glad he doesn't remember either. He's had far too many nightmares about being trapped in a body that can't move, can't speak and can't be seen as awake, watching the world go by around him. If he had any memories from his coma, they probably looked a lot like that.

When she says she's concussed, he tightens his hands around hers almost automatically. He won't allow himself to think too hard about what could have caused that, because if he does he might be physically ill. He tugs her over towards the sofa again, as though insisting she sit down.]

You came to the right place. I'll make you something to help.

[Mia answers his tight grip with a much gentler squeeze of her own, and almost makes a face when he steers her back to the sofa. She'd argue that she doesn't need to sit or need to be babied, she's fine, but that sofa and its squishy cushions looks extremely tempting and she complies.

For a moment, before he answers, she wonders for a second if bringing up coffee was a good idea, wonders if he even drinks the stuff anymore... but Diego Armando's passion for coffee is a force of nature not to be underestimated.

Thank god.

Diego without coffee is unthinkable.]

I had a feeling I'd found the right man for the job.

[She's barely been on the sofa for a minute before she's joined by her former nap buddy. She smiles and brushes her hand over the cat's black head, scratching the base of his ears. He starts purring and Mia looks enchanted.]

Hello again, you. Are you going to treat my lap a little better this time around, handsome?

[She looks from the cat to Diego, her eyes soft as she directs her smile at him, not saying anything.]

Edited 2012-07-06 14:59 (UTC)

[Surely you jest, Mia. Diego Armando without coffee? Perish the thought! He steps into the kitchenette, crowded with coffee machines, and starts to pick up the carafes. Three of them have gone off on his timers and he's trying to choose the one she'll like the best. He decides on a carafe of #29, a calm and smooth blend that can be as soothing as milk when seasoned right.

He doesn't even need to ask what she needs in her coffee. He still remembers.]

I hope Mir was behaving himself. He's a little charmer most of the time, but fickle as cats are...

[He steps over to the couch with two mugs in hand, handing her the one that he's seasoned with milk and sugar. His is blacker than a moonless night, of course. It's amazing how his confidence rises when he has a cup of coffee in hand.]

I suppose Maya brought you here.

[For a second, when he talks about Mir behaving himself, she thinks he's referring to her until she hears the 'he' part. Oh boy; the cat having a similar sounding name could be fun. He's purring like a jackhammer and completely content to be petted by the look of him. She scratches under his chin with a fingertip and the cat obligingly lifts his chin for more.]

He's been a very attentive boy, but I'm not sure my legs appreciate being used as a launching pad, he's got an impressive set of claws on him.

[When Diego returns with the coffee, the scent of coffee is almost overwhelming. For the first time in a very long time though, it doesn't make Mia's gut clench with a painful stab of grief and the acute sense of loss. She takes the proffered cup in both hands and notes how much more comfortable he looks in his own skin now that coffee has been applied to the situation.

She closes her eyes and inhales; she'll never be as good as he is at identifying his blends, but the rich, full scent of coffee is something she's not enjoyed for a very long time now. It's a relief to see that he added milk. She hasn't had a cup of coffee since he last made her one that morning, Diego likes his coffee strong and she's fairly certain that it would be a bad idea to be jumped up on caffeine with a concussion.

Shifting the cup to hold it by the handle with one hand, she then shifts slightly to make room for him to sit beside her as she answers while waiting for her coffee to cool; she doesn't want to add a burnt tongue to her list of ailments.]

She came to get me from the hospital- I thought it would probably be a good idea to get myself checked out to be on the safe side, and the doctor seemed to know her so he gave her a call to let her know I was here.

Ha...! Yeah, he does that from time to time... but cats wouldn't be much fun if they didn't have claws. That's one of my rules.

[He sits beside her and wastes no time in taking a long sip of coffee. Even with just a sip, it feels like the tension is leaving him as the warmth slides down his throat.

Here he is. Sitting on the couch, having coffee with Mia Fey. There's something he never thought he'd get to do again.]

Must have been Yumeno. He's a good guy.

[Mia doesn't need to know how Diego knows him just yet. He thinks they'd both better take it slowly. Both of them being alive, conscious and well is enough of a novelty for now.]

You're-- welcome to stay here with us, of course. That should go without saying.

[Mia is still waiting for her coffee to cool, and as she continues to pet Mir with one hand, she's also watching Diego from beneath half lidded eyes. Diego Armando with a cup of coffee in hand. Even though it's not the same, even though his face has changed and that visor is still new enough to be surprising when she catches sight of it.]

Dr. Yumeno... I think that's what he said his name was, he was very young. I liked him though, he seems like a very good doctor.

[She blows on the surface of her coffee and then lifts the cup to her lips, taking her first sip of the drink she hasn't touched for over five years. It's cool enough to drink, and the familiar, full-bodied flavour is deliciously nostalgic. She hums her approval as she feels that first gulp warm her entire body. Before she puts the cup down on the nearest surface, she inhales the scent again, deeply appreciative. No one makes coffee like Diego Armando.

That's why she couldn't drink it.

At his proposal that she stay, Mia smiles and tilts her head, her smile playful.]

Do your rules allow for you to pick up stray kittens off the street when they can't even help out with the rent?

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