2014.02.16 - Rough Cuts - Part 3: Everything In Its Right Place

It's snowing, though the air's mild; the plows aren't keeping up very well, and they bother less around these parts. Icy slush from the previous snowfall lingers in the gutters and piled at the curbs, and everything else is covered with a generous amount of the stuff.
The pavement Pete Wisdom's walking on isn't oft-trodden, so his footsteps are making fresh impressions in the blanket of noise-damping snow. His collar's turned up, but it's more to keep icy water from going down his neck than anything else; his hair's soaked, and no white clings to him. Only a thin trail of blue smoke follows him, lit among the snowflakes under the streetlamps that haven't been shattered.
His gloved hands are in his pockets, and he's not dragging his feet, not hunched over-- just walking like he has someplace to go.
On the surface, it might seem like a coincidence when Doctor Strange steps out of a laundromat a few buildings down from Pete in a heavy brown trenchcoat, matching hat, bright red scarf, and dark slacks; even he must have laundry to deal with from time to time, and there are days when Wong just isn't there to take care of it. There are a few holes in the facade, though:
1.) He isn't actually carrying any laundry.
2.) That laundromat been closed for months, and
3.) He is just standing there and staring directly at Pete after emerging.
His hands are resting in the pockets of his trench as he watches - and waits for - the secret agent, and his expression is devoid of joy, anger, sadness, or anything else beyond detached observation; he waited until several days after Pete's exit to seek the man out for answers, just to give them both ample time to reflect on what happened in Gemworld, so now that he's this close, a part of him is genuinely intrigued to have a look at him, given the benefit of time.
The rest of him would rather assess his teammate(?)'s state from up-close, though, so if Pete turns, or stops, or does anything but continue down the street towards him after a few seconds, Stephen will trudge through the slush after the Agent. Either way - stay or go - the snow never quite seems to find its way to him; it's as if the flakes would rather fall anywhere but on the Sorcerer Supreme.
Snow avoids the good Doctor-- it merely melts on the Englishman, soaking through after a while. When he sees a man step out of a dark building up the block, then stand there, Wisdom's hackles raise; when he sees the red scarf, mild confusion and irritation set in; when he gets close enough to see who it is through the drifting snow, he pulls his hand from his pocket to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and walk with it, exhaling.
He doesn't turn away, though his face -- even under the light of the streetlamp -- is drawn and shuttered, lips thin. Has Kitty talked to him yet? Is that it? He has a problem or a question-- his face is detached like that because he's being civil, isn't it-- or maybe Rain told on him for telling her to fuck off a couple days ago-- or maybe Amethyst's back--
The mixed hope and dread can't quite stay back behind the carefully schooled expression on Pete's face, but his tone's predictably short as his steps slow. "Save time," he says, "if you tell me right off to go to hell."
"I'm quite sure that neither of us would really want that, Agent Wisdom," Stephen says with distinct certainty and an arched brow. He takes a moment to examine Pete from head to toe, now that they're close; most of his attention has been on trying to monitor the situation in Gemworld from afar, but he's had enough time to himself to ponder the other man's well-being that he can't help but be curious now that he's this close. His shoulders relax a little as he sees that Pete seems to be doing well enough--physically, anyway. When his eyes eventually meet Pete's again, he voices one of the other major questions that had plagued him during those snippets of 'him' time--since they were being unceremoniously ushered out of Gemworld, even:
"When did you first decide that you would do it? That political assassination would - or could - be an appropriate course of action, given what we were there to do?" His tone has the detached curiosity of a doctor diagnosing a patient; if he has any judgments to pass, it may be that they're still to come.
 
"After the Princess sent me to check on the others and I saw Opal going past Sardonyx, I started setting it up as a contingency," says Wisdom evenly, flicking his cigarette into the slushy gutter and jamming his hands back in his pockets. "He was already demanding fealty. Then watching him-- I had a suspicion Eclipso was controlling him, was in him somehow. So I sent Shift up and ran to get up there as fast as I could-- there wasn't /time/ for anything else, not without getting anyone else killed. When he essentially started swallowing Shift -- who should have been able to render him unconscious without killing him -- and laughing at Booster and coming at him despite your protection and his should-be-choking state? That's when I shot to kill."
Finally, Pete looks away. "He supposedly wasn't even going to be there. She told the lot of us to find information on Eclipso at the party."
Just before it seems like he's not going to say any more, the SHIELD agent looks back up at Strange, face a mask. "And I brought the others in without telling them what I was setting up. It's not their fault. I told Alison 'distraction and flashbangs'. I didn't intend to frame another House, I only didn't want it blowing up House Amethyst's face. I didn't intend to start a war, I intended to prevent one. And I can think of approximately twenty other methods -- now-- that I could have used, given the same situation, the same lack of instant communication, the same dearth of information. But none of them involve everyone living through Opal's attempt at a coup."
Pete takes a breath, lets it out in a cloud that melts the snow as it falls. His hands in his pockets are fists, now, and he tucks his chin and says through his teeth, "She told me people lived there. Like I didn't know. If it weren't real, I wouldn't have taken it seriously. I know I was wrong, oh I know. And I should have stayed my hand and waited for her direction. But I was--"
Afraid. On autopilot. Looking after civilians and his friends and Amethyst's people first. Afraid.
"--stupid. And now it's cost her, and it's cost you, and I've no doubt now it's costing Nilaa. And I'd give anything to fix it."
One can almost see the gears turning behind Stephen's eyes as he listens to Pete's account of things; he's playing it all back in his head, both trying to envision the situation through Pete's eyes and reconsider his own place in it. Perhaps if he'd been concentrating on the mission instead of trying to charm Amethyst's mother--if he'd considered suppressing Dark Opal's display when it began instead of reinforcing an invulnerable man--if he'd thought to send the Vapors of Valtorr to give Shift an anchor within the sucking void of Dark Opal's heart--
Maybe then, Pete wouldn't have had to kill at all.
"Had it been Eclipso," he says with a quiet mixture of sadness, disappointment, and surprise once Pete is finished, "I would have known--I would have acted; there would have been no need for subterfuge at all." It's an assessment that's meant to set both their minds at ease.
"I--am relieved, on a certain level, I must say: a part of me assumed far more--impulsiveness than what you're describing," he adds as he takes a couple steps forward so that he's standing beside, and then facing the same direction as Pete. "But still and all: this is an important lesson for working in our world. Everything - even mad, petty tyrants - has its place in the order of things, and upsettng even the least of them can have profound effects on that order." He turns his eyes forward and gives his shoulders a brisk shake; the snow may not be reaching him, but the cold air certainly is.
"I would wager that setting it right may, indeed, cost you even more than it already has--but I can at least promise that you will have your chance."
 
It's not silent for long after Strange's last note.
"I'll take it," says Peter Wisdom, looking up the snowy street, his footprints already filling up behind him.
"As long as it's me paying the cost. If it's not me-- I'll--" probably take it anyway, he doesn't finish. Hate himself afterwards, he doesn't elucidate. It doesn't matter, it's all in his voice, even if his face is expressionless.
He's motionless in the cold, is Pete -- and it is a bit warmer, by him. It always is. "I'm sorry I-- I should have trusted. Her. And you. Her. There are things neither of you think of, and the way the situation felt, it-- it felt familiar. It is all magic, though, and the straight politics and the particular threat-- I didn't even think of that. That you'd've known. Which is nothing but blind stupidity on my part; I saw your eyes looking one way, I forgot you were always looking in others."
The man sounds as though he is pouring all his willpower into keeping his voice steady and his tone even. "I'm still going over the details. They're all in here, I'm-- I'm trying to put together a complete picture of what else was going on-- in my mind. So that I can give the information, the extrapolations I'll have, so -- if I can still work with you -- so you'll know what I have. I-- Doctor, I've sent someone else the Defenders' way, who'll be able to help. Shadowcat. I didn't know if..."
If he'd be welcome back. As a friend to some, still, certainly, but as someone allowed to help?
"Anyroad-- she-- she'll be coming 'round, I expect." Pete reaches up and rubs at the side of his snow-wet face with the back of his snow-wet glove. "I'll-- come 'round tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. I-- don't know if I'm ready to see the look you gave me from Meggan and Booster," he says with a mirthless laugh. "Unless you need me. Then I'll come when I'm called."
"Why only you?" Strange wonders, turning his head towards Pete when he stops himself. "This is not your fight alone, Peter." After making that point, he turns his eyes forward again. A second or two - and another shake of his shoulders - and he's shifting a foot or two closer to Pete, rather than waste energy on warming himself.
"None of us thought of everything," he quietly assures Pete. "If we had, we would have come with a plan in place for him, wouldn't we have?" After a moment of hesitation, he looks over at the Agent again and adds, "Had I thought of everything, we would have had the benefit of making a plan on the spot, in lieu of that--together," in a quiet, contrite voice; his breath comes out in a long, wavy line when he sighs afterwards.
When he explains about Shadowcat, he gives a nod of acknowledgement and promises, "Wong will be expecting her--if someone else doesn't meet her first." Afterwards, he turns his whole body towards the Englishman, unpockets a hand, and tries - slowly - to lay a hand on his shoulder. Even if he is allowed to make contact, he won't try to maintain it for any longer than it takes to say, "Wong will expect you, too--whenever you decide to return. I cannot speak for the rest of the team's feelings, but regardless: everyone has a place."
The hand on his shoulder-- actually has, of all things, what is no doubt the intended effect. Pete relaxes fractionally, and the shutters open very slightly, and he huffs out a little puff of misted breath into the air. Something like a laugh. "Thank you, sir."
And there's nothing ironic in it, either.
When Strange's hand falls, Wisdom stands there for a second longer. Finally he finishes sorting through all the things someone else would say, all the things he could say, and decides to go with, "I'll be back soon."
Category:Log