outer_divide | [locks, then telepathic broadcast]

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[locks, then telepathic broadcast]

[ Locked to Erik Lensherr ]

I don't suppose I have a right to ask for this, given how I've treated you since we've both awakened.

But. Do you think we could wipe the slate clean?

[ Locked to Shepard ]

Should we speak?

[ Telepathic broadcast / significantly later ]

ooc ; If you'd like your character to feel this, assume they get slammed by it; if you would rather them not, assume that Charles' mind skipped over theirs somehow and only hit a portion of the population.

[ Early afternoon on Thursday, particularly psychically susceptible people might suddenly feel an agonizing, splitting pain down the center of their skull. Psychic overload, if any of them have experienced it before, drowning in a stream of information too much for one person to handle.

Brief impressions: the ship, no, the other ship, go back for them, four more, woke them up, the first, the first.

The contact cuts off as abruptly as it was made. ]

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[Sherlock knew about the feel-good vibes whoever-it-was had been sending out. Not that he was altogether comfortable with the possibility of someone else in his head, but honestly? It had kept him from going entirely mad with restlessness. Also it had pissed off Shepard, so. Couldn't be all bad.

This, by contrast, makes him double over, reaching out to the nearest wall for balance. The information overload he could deal with, but the pain--

Those brief impressions sound like they have something to do with the Oracle. He goes back over them in his mind once the pain subsides, working to hold onto them. He mutters under his breath:]

The other ship...

[ He returns from his loss of consciousness with his mind already connecting to those around him, an empathic bond made stronger by the strength of the broadcast. His head is throbbing, too much so for the finesse required to step in and wipe that pain away. ]

/two ships,/ [ he confirms. ] /two./

If you're willing to explain just why you considered me a threat in the first place.

What did he do?

I'm not certain it's any of your business.

You took all you wanted from me, but you refuse to provide anything in return. Give me a reason to consider "wiping the slate clean".

[ He winces. ]

I suppose I deserved that.

He -- I --

[ He's having such a hard time voicing this. Why is it so difficult? ]

I think he tried to have me killed.

Those who came after me -- they were his, his people, and they took me out to the desert. I was bleeding.

I don't, I don't want to talk about it.

[There's a delay in him replying. It's partly an answer he'd expected, but that doesn't mean he's happy to hear it.]

Then clearly there's no relation between the two of us. [Beyond a name and face, that is. The Charles from his world is his closest friend, so hurting him is the last thing on his mind.]

I'm not a threat to you, and I see no reason for that to change.

When love sours, it turns to hate.

You were friends then, before that?

Brothers.

[Brothers? But then why would he have even considered trying to kill Charles? It makes no sense to him.

He doesn't ask for clarification though. Why bother when he knows that his own friendship with the Charles he knows isn't going to end the same way. Neither of them would let it.]

Consider the slate wiped clean.

[ He wants to disclaim: it's not like that, I betrayed him first, I left him first. But he can't, of course, and that would be counterproductive anyhow.

So he shrugs and forces a smile, knowing it'll be audible in his voice. ]

Good.

[That's a hell of a wave that hits him. First thought is about what he found out about the Oracle, what the "first" ship was. Second thought is Charles needs to be shut down before he breaks something.

And then he goes quiet. Fuck. Hope that wasn't him breaking something.]

The Charles and Raven of my world matter to me.

[Which is the closest he's getting to admitting that he actually cares about the safety of the alternate versions here.]

[ It's several minutes later when Charles finally recovers enough equilibrium to reach out to those affected. He brushes against Kay's mind, sends a clumsy-with-pain soothing note to wipe away much of the aftershocks. ]

/My apologies./

Just -- remember, be cautious with her. She has been treated terribly. She was part of a CIA program, one that identified young mutants, recruited them... she takes a long time to trust anyone.

[ And that's the closest he'll come to giving his blessing to go talk to Raven too. ]

[The MiB keeps telepaths, so that at least isn't too strange.]

/Wonder into the wrong dark room?

[ There's a brief surge of nausea that Charles can't quite contain and the mental link breaks again. Good God, he hasn't been so overloaded since --

Since Syria. ]

/Wandered exactly where I planned to wander. Got a bit more than I bargained for./

[ And since his control is so poor, there are flickering half-memories: darkened slums, dead eyes, complete silence. Syria, no matter how much he tries to hold it back. ]

Oddly enough, I believe I'm rather qualified in dealing with those who have been through difficult situations.

[But the warning is noted, regardless.]

[He winces. Not at the carnage- he's seen some in his day. But at whether or not he's supposed to be seeing that.]

/The next bucket I find I'm saving for you. Is that what her head is like?/

[ The images fade; they aren't so intense, but they're the not-so-intense of someone trying desperately not to think of them and failing.

There's a mental flicker sort of like an embarrassed cough. ]

/No. That's what my head is like.

Hers is complex./

I know. Believe me.

[The pain is intense. Starbuck's knees buckle. She drops her crutch and lurches against a wall to prevent herself from falling, clutching at her head. Something's invading her mind. Flashes of images. Thoughts not her own.]

Get the frak out!

[She hisses, breathing hard.]

[There's a lot going on in here, depending on how deep Charles is looking. Hostility, urgency. He knows the first five are important but doesn't know why. He has no way of knowing whether the connection is still open, but Sherlock pushes one thought to the fore:]

/Where's the second?/

[He doesn't focus on them. Sort of like trying to turn your back when someone's getting dressed. It seems only respectful.

He wants to know what "complex" means, but it seems something better saved for later.]

/The other ship is in the dome. Did you see what the four others looked like?/

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