[ While the smile behind the text doesn't entirely come through, Jack can still recall how unflappable and lacking in judgment the OA had been during their initial meeting. Not just that, but she was the sort of person who wanted to look out for the people around her and wanted the best for them -- even if they were strangers. Maybe it's partly her demeanor that had allowed him to feel able to reach out to her, too. ]
Just Jack is fine.
Not sure if you were in the know, but a handful of us struck a deal with Cassius and as a result we got our implants removed. As in, brain surgery.
[ Lost time? Jack would like to ask, but in this instance he realizes that delaying his reason for messaging her isn't going to help anything. ]
In theory. The doctor performing the surgery said this blindness I'm experiencing will be temporary, but he also seemed to be off his rocker, so who knows?
[Ah. There's a certain amount of clarity there. It takes her a little while to know how to respond, both to the scope of the revelation and to the way in which he's chosen to deliver it -- and to whom.]
Hope, an ear, or answers?
[Which, that is to say, does he want from her first?]
I guess I wanted advice. How'd you deal with the sudden transition? I know you already told me about it, but hearing about it and experiencing it are obviously very different things.
[ Chances are that she has more insight to share, now that he's found himself in her shoes. ]
I wasn't alone. I was a child. My father could afford to send me to a school for the blind. I'm telling you this not because I can't help you, but because I want to be transparent. What worked for me might not work for you. You should know that first.[A few seconds later, another message follows:]
Can I call you? Is that still possible? Reading like this is still a little strange for me.
I still think you've got a better idea of what I'm dealing with than most of the other Displaced. And yeah, you can call me.
[ It is strange to have the visuals that the implant can provide to him wired into his mind while not actually being able to see anything else. He's reluctant to have to control his voice during a conversation, but it shouldn't be a problem -- and it's still preferable to an in-person meeting. ]
[The call comes through in due course, a channel opening to relative silence -- the sound of shifting fabric, a gentle inhalation as OA casts about for words.]
I remember the isolation. That was the first thing. At first, everything was... deadened, far away from me. I could touch, taste, smell, hear, but none of those things were vibrant, it was like... handling the world with gloves on. You're probably feeling that now.
[Her voice is quiet, calm, distant with remembrance. Whatever she thinks of his choice and the repercussions, there's no hint of it in her voice. No approval, no judgment. In truth, she feels neither. Sorry, perhaps. More secretly, in a deeper place, an absurd touch of envy.]
You should know: it will pass. Even if you never get your sight back, you'll wake up one day and realise the shape of your world has changed. Your aesthetics will shift; let them. Lean into what's beautiful. It'll keep you sane.
[More sounds of movement; the dry scuff of bare feet across the floor as she begins to pace her room. She clears her throat.]
I know that doesn't sound practical. I'll get to that. First you have to live with it. Grieve. Give yourself time. Does that make sense?
[ As soon as they have an audio call going, OA jumps right into it. Jack appreciates that, as he doesn't need someone to coddle him or dwell on how awful things are right now, especially when this is supposedly all going to be temporary. No, he can't be sure of that, but he also realizes that this is no time to wallow when there are plenty of people who have to live sightless their entire lives.
That being said, he's still having a hard time accepting that it might be forever, and so the advice OA provides about adapting to it ends up being hard to swallow. He doesn't begrudge her for it, but his first instinct is to assume that it won't apply to him.
There's little sound on his side of the line other than soft breathing, mainly because he's laid out flat on his back on his bed, "staring" at the ceiling. ]
Sure, but... let me get something straight with you first. [ He'd wondered about it during their first conversation, but it hadn't seemed right to ask then. Now it's extremely pertinent to what's going on, so... ]
[A loaded question. OA sighs softly, letting that fill the silence in lieu of an answer. When the words come, they're confessional.]
I can. And it isn't new.
[That's the inevitable next question: is it because of the implant? The truth is far stranger, and she's going to give it, but not for free.]
But I don't think my method will work for you.
[She sounds, at least, genuinely regretful.]
At very least, it's even more dangerous than what you've already undergone. I don't even know that I could explain it, not without telling you everything. I can, but you have to be willing to listen.
[There comes another pause; she clears her throat softly.]
You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but did you die? On the operating table; did you flatline?
[ Well, that all sounds extremely cryptic, and Jack isn't sure that he wants the full story, but he also can't help but be curious. The OA is strange from top to bottom, from the way she talks to her demeanor and how she carries herself. There's this sense of something being off-kilter, though not in any malicious way. Not like with Dr. Grey.
She asks him if he died, and it's too specific of a question for there not to be some reason behind it. Had her "method" involved death? Well, she certainly doesn't have any resemblance to Reaper, so he's going to have to wait and see.
His answer comes readily. ]
No, I didn't. The guy who was operating on me, I think he had a few screws lose. He was... off. And I'm pretty sure this is his idea of a joke. His way of messing with me.
[ Which is why he can't be sure that it's reversible, though he doesn't plan to jump to any alarming conclusions just yet.
He huffs out a breath through his nose, though he isn't making much effort to mask the frustration in his voice at this point. ]
[Which is, she recognises, equally cryptic. There comes the soft, dry sound of skin on skin as she runs a hand over her face.]
I met a man once. A doctor. He ran a study, he told me. A study of near-death experiences and of people who'd had them, people like me.
[There's a pause as she considers how to proceed.]
I was young. Twenty-one, and sheltered. He was so smart; he made me laugh. Made me feel special, like I could... contribute something to the world, to our understanding of life and death. That even blind I could explore frontiers only a few people had ever visited before. So... I volunteered. To go with him, to be part of his study.
I didn't understand then that you can't study death if nobody is dying.
[There's more to it than that; what happened to her is more extended and uglier -- and stranger, and more beautiful -- than those few words imply. None of that is relevant to the question she's trying to answer, though.]
I lost my sight the first time I died. I got it back the same way. We found out later that he selected people who had already survived near-death experiences because we were easier to revive. That's why I asked.
[ What the OA describes sounds a lot like getting recruited into a cult, although something even more extreme than that if human experimentation and killing subjects just to revive them was what it had entailed. It sounds fictional, like something you'd see on a TV show, but Jack doesn't have any real reason to doubt the OA. Not after everything he's witnessed over the past two years. Not to mention that apparently reviving people is doable in this world with the medi-units.
If anything, what OA tells him puts into perspective some of her behavior post-Zerzura, and why she'd felt the need to mourn another "version" of her. ]
Sounds grisly. [ To put it lightly. He's not sure how to offer condolences for what she'd been through, and he also doesn't know how she'd take it. ] Pretty sure if I'd died I would have known it, but I was pretty heavily sedated. I have had a near-death experience before, though.
[ Jack doesn't necessarily think there's any connection between what the OA experienced back home and what Johann Grey did, but there is something chilling about drawing comparisons all the same.
He sighs and reaches one hand up, running his fingers over the scar tissue that dissects his face. The lesson here seems to be that they all need to stop turning their bodies over to science. One would really think he'd have learned that lesson by now. ]
[It wasn't as dramatic as that -- a cult, recruitment. It had just been a simple decision. He'd been kind. She'd been lonely. There were others like her, he'd promised. She could meet them.
She had. Everything he'd promised had come true. It's the circumstances surrounding that that none of them had anticipated.
OA's silence broadcasts her surprise, and the soft huff of wry laughter that follows after a few long seconds implies she reads something in this revelation. Another NDE survivor. Another... well, maybe not. Then again, maybe so. Hadn't he been drawn to her that day by the river?]
Let's not send you back if we can help it.
[Though she couldn't blame him if he wanted to go back, back to the death-place, to that... peace. To the gnosis.
Maybe he doesn't remember it. She isn't going to ask, not when he's already so off-kilter.]
Where are you, right now? Not... conceptually. I don't want a name; I imagine you know where you are. Describe it to me.
[ Jack has no intention of dying here on some world that isn't really the one he knows (the one he'd spent years working his hardest to protect). Even if he could be revived, it doesn't sound like it would be a pleasant experience. So no, he doesn't want to go back either.
Instead of asking him what his new death experience had been like (the follow-up question he was expecting), the OA shifts to something else entirely. She always seems to find a way to surprise him and swerve away from his expectations.
He has a guess for what she's doing, though. Learning to mentally picture things even if he can't see them with his eyes is going to be important for getting through this. ]
It's a room in my apartment. Not much to it. A bed, four walls, a ceiling. I haven't spent a lot of time decorating the place.
[ So... he's not doing the best job of playing along. ]
[There's soft amusement in her voice, though it's tempered by fondness. She's being honest, too -- the fact that she can see now doesn't erase the years in which she couldn't. The way in which she approaches the world is irrevocably changed.
On the other hand, if he doesn't want to play, he doesn't want to play. That's fine. She can try a different tactic.]
You're going to have to learn to pay attention to your other senses, especially the ones you don't think about. Spatial senses. Orientation. Your balance will be affected. You'll walk differently, listen differently. Everything is going to feel... bigger than it was, or smaller.
[A pause; she's thinking. Ultimately she doesn't know him very well at all, but she gets the impression he appreciates independence.]
Maybe the first thing is to learn to be regular. Every time I knew I'd be spending a lot of time somewhere, I'd measure it out in paces. Memorise it. You know, five steps from the doorway to the counter. Three from my bedroom door to the bathroom. Then I wouldn't need the cane.
You should remember too that your hands are precious. Touch is precious. You shouldn't navigate with your fingertips. Fine touch only. If you're learning, start with the back of your hand. That way, if you hurt yourself, you aren't risking your ability to read the world.
[There's another short pause, a small huff.]
You know, this would be easier if you'd let me come show you in person.
[ She's not blind anymore, but Jack realizes what she's getting at, and it's not as if her advice is unhelpful. Mentally mapping out an area, learning it so well that you can navigate without having to stumble your way around, those are good suggestions. Everything she's saying about how the world around him feels different (bigger, smaller, and above all unknown) rings true.
While he doesn't think he has to worry too much about harming his hands (and if he did, he'd heal), he takes that tip to heart too. It turns out that calling the OA wasn't the worst idea.
Though then she suggests she could come over, and there's silence from Jack's end of the line before he lets out a breath -- barely audible, but there. ]
My roommate isn't too fond of having visitors.
[ Gabriel might not actually care, but neither of them are that keen on letting other people into their space. It's paranoid behavior, but it's also their way of staying alive.
Hypocritical, when they surrendered themselves for brain surgery, but everyone has their flaws. ]
What you're saying makes sense, though. I think it'll help.
[Maybe more than he's saying. The unspoken things -- weariness, guilt, shame. There's a pause from her end too, though it's more thoughtful than tense.]
You should go outside. Maybe not now, but soon. Go out with someone you trust. People will stare. You might feel it, or you might think you feel it. They might ask questions. They'll treat you differently when you talk to them, because you won't know where to look. It makes people uneasy.
[Another pause -- OA knows she's not making a particularly good case here.]
But then you'll know. You'll survive it, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. The sun helps, too. Feeling it on your skin. The wind. It helps to be able to feel time, to know the world is still there and you can be in it.
[ Jack has already considered what it might be like to have other people making snap judgments about him because they can tell he's blind. That they'll want to pity him, or won't know how to interact with him in general. It's something he's dreading, but he also needs to learn how to deal with it eventually. ]
I will. [ Go outside, he means. With Gabriel, because against all logic he does trust him by this point. Maybe that's stupid of him, but Jack's also never claimed to be that smart. ]
And I appreciate you taking the time. This may all be a thing of the past soon, but... gotta live with it for now, at least.
[ So getting someone else's perspective has been truly helpful. ]
Good. I'll be here if you ever need someone who knows.
[A pause, a little huff of self-deprecating laughter.]
Or want. It doesn't have to be a need. It's good for me, helping where I can. I'll see if I can't make you a cane, too. Having one changes everything.
[There comes another brief pause, this one heavier. He's come to her vulnerable. She has no intention of exploiting that, but she can't help adding one more thing:]
Maybe it's too soon for me to say this, maybe you can't feel it yet, but you should know: losing a sense just shifts the window. I found my power, and I was never sure I had any to begin with. I have faith that you'll find yours.
[ While Jack still finds himself immediately recoiling from the idea of having to use a cane (he doesn't want to look weak or frail or, worst of all, old), he doesn't voice those thoughts. There's a part of him that doesn't expect the OA to actually follow through on the offer, though if he's truly honest with himself, she strikes him as the exact sort of person who would keep to her word.
Either way, chances are that he probably does need a cane, as much as he hates the thought.
He's expecting their conversation to end there, but the OA adds something else. Like much of what she says, Jack doesn't know exactly what she means or why she's saying it, and is at a loss for how to respond.
[A soft sigh interrupts the ensuing pause; she's trying to tread delicately, though he clearly doesn't want to be handled with kid gloves and she can also relate to that.]
The woman who raised me, she-- well, everybody did, but her especially: she treated me like I was missing something. Like I was... incomplete, like it was natural that I would need her. Not just when I was a child, but always. Like I... like I needed to be protected from the world, somehow. People think that. It shows. People used to, you know, grab me by the hand, try to guide me places, like they thought there was this gap between what I could do and what they could do that they needed to fill.
Sometimes there was. Nobody ever imagines it can be the other way around, too. The truth is that being blind was powerful. It made me listen. It made people underestimate me. It taught me things about the world and about myself that I never would have known otherwise. I guess...
I guess what I mean is, you might not feel it right now, but you're not just fit to survive. You're fit to live.
[ It's only natural that the OA is speaking to him about all this like he's going to be blind forever, given that she'd (he assumes) lived a good percentage of her life in that state. Jack probably shouldn't rely on the word of Dr. Grey in assuming that his sight will return, but the alternative isn't something he's fully ready to tackle right now.
Which makes it hard to know what to say to everything she just told him. ]
Wouldn't mind letting people underestimate me, yeah. [ It's the main takeaway he's got from her counsel, as he can see how he could use his current disability to his advantage that way. ]
I think I know what you're getting at. I'm just also hoping that I don't have to learn those hard lessons that you did.
[ He doesn't mean any offense by it. It's just that having to maneuver around being blind will slow him down and make his goals that much harder to obtain, and he can't afford that. ]
[She can't pretend those years were perfectly idyllic, even before Hap found her. The worlds still fade into a sigh, a moody sound, introspective. It should've been me, she wants to say. It wasn't. Saying it would help nothing.]
Your roommate. He's helping you? There are ways to make some things easier. Daily tasks, getting around in your own space. You could implement them yourself, but it's easier if you have someone sighted to get you started. He can contact me himself, if he wants. Both of you. Um, anytime. I don't always sleep too well, so.
[ Jack shoots the question back almost as an automatic reaction, in response to her remark about her sleep quality. He certainly isn't good at sleeping these days and now that he's got a clearer idea of some of the things that the OA has lived through, he can see why she suffers in he same way. ]
But yeah, he's helping me. [ Not that Jack is very good at asking for help but it's difficult to avoid when they share a living space and Gabriel has a front row seat to how he's struggling. ] I'll pass the information along. Thanks again.
[ It takes some effort, but Jack forces himself to sit up. He rubs at his eyes and drags a hand through his hair, but he does feel a little more equipped to face the world now. Even if it's a dark one. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Just Jack is fine.
Not sure if you were in the know, but a handful of us struck a deal with Cassius and as a result we got our implants removed. As in, brain surgery.
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In theory. The doctor performing the surgery said this blindness I'm experiencing will be temporary, but he also seemed to be off his rocker, so who knows?
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Hope, an ear, or answers?
[Which, that is to say, does he want from her first?]
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[ Chances are that she has more insight to share, now that he's found himself in her shoes. ]
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Can I call you? Is that still possible? Reading like this is still a little strange for me.
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[ It is strange to have the visuals that the implant can provide to him wired into his mind while not actually being able to see anything else. He's reluctant to have to control his voice during a conversation, but it shouldn't be a problem -- and it's still preferable to an in-person meeting. ]
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I remember the isolation. That was the first thing. At first, everything was... deadened, far away from me. I could touch, taste, smell, hear, but none of those things were vibrant, it was like... handling the world with gloves on. You're probably feeling that now.
[Her voice is quiet, calm, distant with remembrance. Whatever she thinks of his choice and the repercussions, there's no hint of it in her voice. No approval, no judgment. In truth, she feels neither. Sorry, perhaps. More secretly, in a deeper place, an absurd touch of envy.]
You should know: it will pass. Even if you never get your sight back, you'll wake up one day and realise the shape of your world has changed. Your aesthetics will shift; let them. Lean into what's beautiful. It'll keep you sane.
[More sounds of movement; the dry scuff of bare feet across the floor as she begins to pace her room. She clears her throat.]
I know that doesn't sound practical. I'll get to that. First you have to live with it. Grieve. Give yourself time. Does that make sense?
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That being said, he's still having a hard time accepting that it might be forever, and so the advice OA provides about adapting to it ends up being hard to swallow. He doesn't begrudge her for it, but his first instinct is to assume that it won't apply to him.
There's little sound on his side of the line other than soft breathing, mainly because he's laid out flat on his back on his bed, "staring" at the ceiling. ]
Sure, but... let me get something straight with you first. [ He'd wondered about it during their first conversation, but it hadn't seemed right to ask then. Now it's extremely pertinent to what's going on, so... ]
Can you see now?
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I can. And it isn't new.
[That's the inevitable next question: is it because of the implant? The truth is far stranger, and she's going to give it, but not for free.]
But I don't think my method will work for you.
[She sounds, at least, genuinely regretful.]
At very least, it's even more dangerous than what you've already undergone. I don't even know that I could explain it, not without telling you everything. I can, but you have to be willing to listen.
[There comes another pause; she clears her throat softly.]
You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but did you die? On the operating table; did you flatline?
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She asks him if he died, and it's too specific of a question for there not to be some reason behind it. Had her "method" involved death? Well, she certainly doesn't have any resemblance to Reaper, so he's going to have to wait and see.
His answer comes readily. ]
No, I didn't. The guy who was operating on me, I think he had a few screws lose. He was... off. And I'm pretty sure this is his idea of a joke. His way of messing with me.
[ Which is why he can't be sure that it's reversible, though he doesn't plan to jump to any alarming conclusions just yet.
He huffs out a breath through his nose, though he isn't making much effort to mask the frustration in his voice at this point. ]
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[That needs saying first, and emphatically.]
More than you know.
[Which is, she recognises, equally cryptic. There comes the soft, dry sound of skin on skin as she runs a hand over her face.]
I met a man once. A doctor. He ran a study, he told me. A study of near-death experiences and of people who'd had them, people like me.
[There's a pause as she considers how to proceed.]
I was young. Twenty-one, and sheltered. He was so smart; he made me laugh. Made me feel special, like I could... contribute something to the world, to our understanding of life and death. That even blind I could explore frontiers only a few people had ever visited before. So... I volunteered. To go with him, to be part of his study.
I didn't understand then that you can't study death if nobody is dying.
[There's more to it than that; what happened to her is more extended and uglier -- and stranger, and more beautiful -- than those few words imply. None of that is relevant to the question she's trying to answer, though.]
I lost my sight the first time I died. I got it back the same way. We found out later that he selected people who had already survived near-death experiences because we were easier to revive. That's why I asked.
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If anything, what OA tells him puts into perspective some of her behavior post-Zerzura, and why she'd felt the need to mourn another "version" of her. ]
Sounds grisly. [ To put it lightly. He's not sure how to offer condolences for what she'd been through, and he also doesn't know how she'd take it. ] Pretty sure if I'd died I would have known it, but I was pretty heavily sedated. I have had a near-death experience before, though.
[ Jack doesn't necessarily think there's any connection between what the OA experienced back home and what Johann Grey did, but there is something chilling about drawing comparisons all the same.
He sighs and reaches one hand up, running his fingers over the scar tissue that dissects his face. The lesson here seems to be that they all need to stop turning their bodies over to science. One would really think he'd have learned that lesson by now. ]
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She had. Everything he'd promised had come true. It's the circumstances surrounding that that none of them had anticipated.
OA's silence broadcasts her surprise, and the soft huff of wry laughter that follows after a few long seconds implies she reads something in this revelation. Another NDE survivor. Another... well, maybe not. Then again, maybe so. Hadn't he been drawn to her that day by the river?]
Let's not send you back if we can help it.
[Though she couldn't blame him if he wanted to go back, back to the death-place, to that... peace. To the gnosis.
Maybe he doesn't remember it. She isn't going to ask, not when he's already so off-kilter.]
Where are you, right now? Not... conceptually. I don't want a name; I imagine you know where you are. Describe it to me.
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Instead of asking him what his new death experience had been like (the follow-up question he was expecting), the OA shifts to something else entirely. She always seems to find a way to surprise him and swerve away from his expectations.
He has a guess for what she's doing, though. Learning to mentally picture things even if he can't see them with his eyes is going to be important for getting through this. ]
It's a room in my apartment. Not much to it. A bed, four walls, a ceiling. I haven't spent a lot of time decorating the place.
[ So... he's not doing the best job of playing along. ]
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[There's soft amusement in her voice, though it's tempered by fondness. She's being honest, too -- the fact that she can see now doesn't erase the years in which she couldn't. The way in which she approaches the world is irrevocably changed.
On the other hand, if he doesn't want to play, he doesn't want to play. That's fine. She can try a different tactic.]
You're going to have to learn to pay attention to your other senses, especially the ones you don't think about. Spatial senses. Orientation. Your balance will be affected. You'll walk differently, listen differently. Everything is going to feel... bigger than it was, or smaller.
[A pause; she's thinking. Ultimately she doesn't know him very well at all, but she gets the impression he appreciates independence.]
Maybe the first thing is to learn to be regular. Every time I knew I'd be spending a lot of time somewhere, I'd measure it out in paces. Memorise it. You know, five steps from the doorway to the counter. Three from my bedroom door to the bathroom. Then I wouldn't need the cane.
You should remember too that your hands are precious. Touch is precious. You shouldn't navigate with your fingertips. Fine touch only. If you're learning, start with the back of your hand. That way, if you hurt yourself, you aren't risking your ability to read the world.
[There's another short pause, a small huff.]
You know, this would be easier if you'd let me come show you in person.
[It's not a demand, though maybe an offer.]
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While he doesn't think he has to worry too much about harming his hands (and if he did, he'd heal), he takes that tip to heart too. It turns out that calling the OA wasn't the worst idea.
Though then she suggests she could come over, and there's silence from Jack's end of the line before he lets out a breath -- barely audible, but there. ]
My roommate isn't too fond of having visitors.
[ Gabriel might not actually care, but neither of them are that keen on letting other people into their space. It's paranoid behavior, but it's also their way of staying alive.
Hypocritical, when they surrendered themselves for brain surgery, but everyone has their flaws. ]
What you're saying makes sense, though. I think it'll help.
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[Maybe more than he's saying. The unspoken things -- weariness, guilt, shame. There's a pause from her end too, though it's more thoughtful than tense.]
You should go outside. Maybe not now, but soon. Go out with someone you trust. People will stare. You might feel it, or you might think you feel it. They might ask questions. They'll treat you differently when you talk to them, because you won't know where to look. It makes people uneasy.
[Another pause -- OA knows she's not making a particularly good case here.]
But then you'll know. You'll survive it, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. The sun helps, too. Feeling it on your skin. The wind. It helps to be able to feel time, to know the world is still there and you can be in it.
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I will. [ Go outside, he means. With Gabriel, because against all logic he does trust him by this point. Maybe that's stupid of him, but Jack's also never claimed to be that smart. ]
And I appreciate you taking the time. This may all be a thing of the past soon, but... gotta live with it for now, at least.
[ So getting someone else's perspective has been truly helpful. ]
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[A pause, a little huff of self-deprecating laughter.]
Or want. It doesn't have to be a need. It's good for me, helping where I can. I'll see if I can't make you a cane, too. Having one changes everything.
[There comes another brief pause, this one heavier. He's come to her vulnerable. She has no intention of exploiting that, but she can't help adding one more thing:]
Maybe it's too soon for me to say this, maybe you can't feel it yet, but you should know: losing a sense just shifts the window. I found my power, and I was never sure I had any to begin with. I have faith that you'll find yours.
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Either way, chances are that he probably does need a cane, as much as he hates the thought.
He's expecting their conversation to end there, but the OA adds something else. Like much of what she says, Jack doesn't know exactly what she means or why she's saying it, and is at a loss for how to respond.
Eventually he clears his throat. ]
Power? What do you mean?
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[A soft sigh interrupts the ensuing pause; she's trying to tread delicately, though he clearly doesn't want to be handled with kid gloves and she can also relate to that.]
The woman who raised me, she-- well, everybody did, but her especially: she treated me like I was missing something. Like I was... incomplete, like it was natural that I would need her. Not just when I was a child, but always. Like I... like I needed to be protected from the world, somehow. People think that. It shows. People used to, you know, grab me by the hand, try to guide me places, like they thought there was this gap between what I could do and what they could do that they needed to fill.
Sometimes there was. Nobody ever imagines it can be the other way around, too. The truth is that being blind was powerful. It made me listen. It made people underestimate me. It taught me things about the world and about myself that I never would have known otherwise. I guess...
I guess what I mean is, you might not feel it right now, but you're not just fit to survive. You're fit to live.
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Which makes it hard to know what to say to everything she just told him. ]
Wouldn't mind letting people underestimate me, yeah. [ It's the main takeaway he's got from her counsel, as he can see how he could use his current disability to his advantage that way. ]
I think I know what you're getting at. I'm just also hoping that I don't have to learn those hard lessons that you did.
[ He doesn't mean any offense by it. It's just that having to maneuver around being blind will slow him down and make his goals that much harder to obtain, and he can't afford that. ]
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Yeah. Me too.
[She can't pretend those years were perfectly idyllic, even before Hap found her. The worlds still fade into a sigh, a moody sound, introspective. It should've been me, she wants to say. It wasn't. Saying it would help nothing.]
Your roommate. He's helping you? There are ways to make some things easier. Daily tasks, getting around in your own space. You could implement them yourself, but it's easier if you have someone sighted to get you started. He can contact me himself, if he wants. Both of you. Um, anytime. I don't always sleep too well, so.
no subject
[ Jack shoots the question back almost as an automatic reaction, in response to her remark about her sleep quality. He certainly isn't good at sleeping these days and now that he's got a clearer idea of some of the things that the OA has lived through, he can see why she suffers in he same way. ]
But yeah, he's helping me. [ Not that Jack is very good at asking for help but it's difficult to avoid when they share a living space and Gabriel has a front row seat to how he's struggling. ] I'll pass the information along. Thanks again.
[ It takes some effort, but Jack forces himself to sit up. He rubs at his eyes and drags a hand through his hair, but he does feel a little more equipped to face the world now. Even if it's a dark one. ]