thecapitol | [CLOSED] Did you cut your hands on me?

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[CLOSED] Did you cut your hands on me?

WHO | Sigma and Eponine
WHAT | Sigma tries not to be a terrible father figure and takes Eponine out for a night on the town, then they discuss Eva's will.
WHEN | Following the mini-Arena and Sigma's surgery.
WHERE | District 3 Suite and out in the Capitol.
NOTES/WARNINGS | Mentions of surgery/allusions to dismemberment, mentions of death. Warnings to be added.

When Sigma slipped into a sweater that afternoon, he could not bring himself to pull down the sleeves.

The seam that Justine had left on his arm was still raw. His cybernetics had not been created with much in the way of self-healing, and it was left to the surgeon's skill with a suture to stop his artificial blood from spilling out. There was nothing he could do but continue to take medication and hope the ABT would eventually coagulate, that the artificial skin that held his wire and titanium body together might fuse along the faux lines of cleavage.

Sigma had chosen not to bandage his arm - he feared it would frighten Eponine, and instead elected to keep his dissected limb pressed close to his body. Perhaps an intrepid pathogen might slip its way inside the oil and through the mechanical barrier that fed his real veins and arteries, but the chances were relatively slim. As he folded the cuff of his sleeve at his elbow, Sigma inspected himself in his mirror. He realized suddenly that he had begun trembling.

It takes a few splashes of cold water against his face before Sigma can steel himself to leave. Bidding Nye (and Diana and Kyle's photographs) goodbye, the Doctor makes his way quickly to District 3's suite before he can lose his nerve entirely.

He knocks on Eponine's door in an unannounced visit. Though his anxiety had been what kept him from leaving his room, guilt threatened to drown him: he felt as though he had abandoned his children after Eva's death, that he had spent much of his time licking his wounds instead of giving them the affection they deserved.

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It took Eponine a minute to answer her door. Not that she was doing anything important. Well, what she was doing was tidying. She had crammed as much of Eva 's things into her room as possible, fearing that the house would be burgled. Her shelves were stuffed with books; books were wedged into shelves and more lay flat on top. Eva's gowns filled her wardrobe: her t-shirts and jumpers were in a pile beneath Eponine's bed; all but one which was tucked beneath Eponine's pillow.

At the knock, Eponine stood up and ran her fingers through the top of her messy plait.
When she opens the door to Sigma , her expression clouds.

"Are you here to lock me in again?" Her voice hardened, and she added pointedly, "Papa."

The Doctor is rather impressed by Eponine's decorations at first. He wonders if she had decided to practice reading, or if she had taken it up as a hobby - Sigma loved to read. When it occurs to him that Eponine's belongings may once have been Eva's, his heart sinks. While sentimentality was healthy, the girl should have torture herself so, surrounding herself with a dead woman's belongings.

Sigma had assumed Eponine had forgiven him since the funeral, but her chilly attitude made it apparent he had been mistaken. He hangs his head in shame and remorse. "Of course not, my dear..." He wonders if he should make an excuse and leave, if things would only get worse from here. But Sigma worries he may never be happy until he repairs things between them, and so the old man takes a deep, preparatory breath. "...Actually, I came here to apologize. I know what I did was unacceptable and I cannot ask your forgiveness. But," it seems so silly to ask, now, "I wanted to know if you would consider spending the day with me..." His voice trails off as he finishes his sentence, having lost his confidence.

Grief does funny things to people. Sometimes it makes them violent. Some become cold and distant. Eponine becomes ready to forgive at the drop of a hat in return for any semblance of love. But that grief has somewhat subsided now, and indignation, no, anger had taken over from that need.

For a moment, she stood with her arms folded, remembering that horrible night where he had carried her to her room, tossed over his shoulder like a sack of coal, and locked her in even as she had thumped to be released. And he knew - he knew how much she hated being locked in anywhere. And he had still done it, just to keep his face in the Capitol. She could hate him. She could. She does. But...

But he looks so pathetic, and crumpled and sad stood there, that she can't help relent, and she pulls the door wider to let him in.

"Don't touch anything. It's Eva's. You're not allowed to ruin anything."

Sigma gratefully accepts her invitation, crossing into her room and standing off to the side unimposingly. He is sad to hear his suspicions were true, but he will not voice his displeasure to a grieving girl. "Thank you," he answers, in spite of her rude insinuation. He would never have been such a pushover for his own son - he would have scolded him for such disrespect - but his son was dead, the result of his own neglect. Sigma preferred to learn from the past.

After being invited in, he is not in much of a rush to leave. He holds off on asking her to go outside with him and instead attempts small talk. "Have you been well...? I worried about you in the Arena."

Edited 2014-12-02 21:24 (UTC)

"They dressed me up as a monkey." Eponine all but ignores him, as she bends down again, reverently folding a t-shirt of Eva's before pressing it beneath her bed. "And that Ruffnut fed me to a bird. What is it you think, Papa?" She stays bent down for a moment, reeking of resentment. But then she pushes herself up with an almighty sigh.

"I'm sorry..." She turns back to Sigma. "I meant it... at the funeral. But..." She gestures at her door. "It's like prison. Every night, he has me locked in. And for my own good, I know, but... oh, I wish you hadn't, Papa. I might have saved her life."

Sigma snarls when Eponine mentions Ruffnut. For one, sick moment, he is thankful to have killed her; she deserved all the suffering she got for going after another child. But his anger quickly cools and he finds himself disgusted with himself, for he knows it was not their fault they were forced into the Arena.

"...I could not bring myself to watch," he confides quietly. "It would have made me very ill. But I am glad you are home safe."

Home, not within the Capitol; home with him. There is no use attempting to convince her that there is nothing she could have done to save her mother. Instead, Sigma decides he must help her confront her nightmares. He shuffles awkwardly: "Do you mean your biological father?" he dares to ask. She had said something similar the night she was locked away and he cannot think of another person she may be referring to.

"Not my pa at all, not who locks me in. He is dead. I... I killed him." She mutters the last bit, still ashamed of what she did. She takes a minute, takes a breath to steady herself.

"And now he comes to me always, when I am locked in. He stands in the corner over there and he shouts. I can still hear it, and as morning comes or the thing from the needle takes me, I can feel hands on me to take me to hell. No, he don't lock me in nowhere. It is that Mr. Cyrus. I think he has told the Peacekeepers always to lock my door or hold my shoulders to stick a needle in my arse. And ahould I blame you for suggesting it, Papa?"

She shrugs and purses her lips. She is not going to cry.

"But then I think, what is the point? For you are all I have now."

Sigma does not want to hear this, does not want to acknowledge that his little girl was not well. He can barely tell delusion from fact, and if Eponine was seeing things, then his actions had become a part of the ghosts that haunted her. But there were no therapists or similar professionals that would help her now; he had to restore her grip on reality on his own. He hesitates before offering his help, doubtful that she would even accept it.

"Eponine, I have a curfew pass. I am free to do as I please, and that involves visiting other district suites at night. If you would like, I could stay with you and... keep away any trouble." 'Protect you from your hallucinations' sounds too accusatory, somehow. He shrugs. "At least, think about it. You have some time to make up your mind: there is something I would like to do with you this afternoon, if you will hear me out..." He is absolutely desperate to change the topic.

"You'd do that?" Eponine can hardly believe that Sigma is offering. "You would allow yourself to be locked up with me? Even though you can go wherever you like?" It'd be nice to have company when she couldn't sleep. It'd be comforting to fall asleep in the arms of about the only man who she could really trust in this whole god-forsaken place. It wouldn't keep the hallucinations away, of course not. But it is nice to have a person to talk to.

"I know it's not real, you know?" She adds, somewhat defensively. "I know it is just in my head. It is just queer what no sleep and so much fear makes you see, I think. Never have I really been scared before, and perhaps that is not so now. I am just... I am so drowning in bad things."

But she's grateful for the conversation change, the excuse to leave Eva and the sad memories behind. "What do you want to do?"

Sigma stares at her a moment, furious with himself for making her question his sincerity. "Of course I would," he answers emphatically. "Eponine, I care dearly for you. I would do whatever I could to make you feel secure." Perhaps such a pledge was noxious for her to hear, but to some degree it wasn't particularly true. He would do what he judged was best for her and only that. "And, my dear, it is not uncommon for the threats inside of our heads to be as destructive as the physical ones. I will make sure you rest well tonight." He must force himself to believe that a good night's sleep was all she needed, lest he lose his mind, himself. It seems odd to segue now into an afternoon distraction, but Sigma leaps at the opportunity.

"As for this evening... You see, I saw an advertisement for a movie while I was taking my morning walk. It seemed extremely similar to one I enjoyed in my youth, and it very well may be a remake- or this world's variation- of that same film." He pauses awkwardly, wondering how to summarize it. "It is about a free spirited nun who becomes the governess of seven children during wartime. There is singing and dancing, and I believe you may enjoy it. It was a true story in my world." Written into a book, turned into a stage play, turned into a movie... not that he had bothered to look into anything other than the 1965 film. "...It is intended for children, but anyone of any age can appreciate it. Would you consider allowing me to treat you?" Or perhaps she would hate the idea and think he was treating her like a child. Sigma braces himself for the worst.

Eponine raises her eyebrows, sceptical. He wants to take her to see a movie - she knows that word now - which would be fun. She's never seen a movie, except the Hunger Games, so seeing something would be a real treat. But... but about a nun? She wrinkles her nose.

Why would she want to see anything about a nun who is a governess? Nuns are horrible, and she can't imagine one of those old black buzzards being free-spirited at all. But she nods anyway, not wanting to disappoint Sigma.

"I used to go to the music halls in Paris. I like the bawdy dances best. They're funny. Is it funny?"

Sigma immediately brightens, a warm smile spreading across his face. She would go with him after all? It was the bright spot in his awful week, and already he can feel himself becoming more human.

"It has its moments, I suppose. You could call it 'upbeat.' So you are willing? I will be certain to get us the best seats. ...Have you tried popcorn, Eponine, or are you more of a nacho person?" There is laughter in his voice at long last. It had been so many years since he had seen a movie in theatres, and how he loved the entire experience - moviegoing had been his favourite hobby before humanity had fallen apart. "Pardon me. I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"You don't have to do any of it... Papa." She chuckles to herself. Even after everything, he is still the closest thing she's ever had to a parent, barring Eva. "Just... I don't need nothing. You don't need to spend your money on me, on best seats or nothing. Believe me, Pa, when they realise I am there, the room shall empty and we shall have the pick of seats." That makes her laugh again. It's tinged with bitterness, but she really does find it funny. Let them hate her. She'd rather be loathed than liked by people she hates so much.

"I do not know a nacho. But popcorn... well, you know I eat anything. But it is not my favourite thing to eat. I like ice cream better, you know? Or chocolate." She has a sweet tooth.

His heart rising in his chest comes plummeting back to earth as she brags of her self-loathing, and Sigma looks hurt. "Oh, my little girl. Do not say such thing about yourself." Even if there would be a reaction from other guests, he is not unused to being a pariah. He would proudly maintain his seat beside her. "And, yes, I am sure they will have ice cream there - at least, they did at the theatres where I was from. And I would much rather spend my money on you than on my own self, so do not feel guilty."

He wonders what is going through her head, if she is only doing this to humour him or if she may actually enjoy today. There is no way to know until he tries. "...Well. Are you ready? And... Thank you, Eponine."

"Why? It is true. And I know what you say, Pa, but I am cross, and I don't care. I don't care if the whole place hates me. Let them!"

She stands up, and goes to look in her mirror, sighing over the state of her hair. She goes to grab a brush, but she doesn't have the heart to plait her mop today. She she grabs a bobble instead, and shoves her hair into an untidy half bun half pony tail. She turns back to Sigma then.

"You don't have to thank me. I ought to say so to you. You are doing all of these nice things to me. Come - shall we go?"

When Eponine rises to meet her mirror, Sigma opens his mouth to question why she would need to - he has never raised a daughter, and has not seen a young woman do her hair in a very long time. He decides to watch in silence, and as he does not have the taste in fashion to recognize that her hairstyle is sloppy or unfashionable, he finds it cute, instead - the baubles decorating her hair remind him that she is still a girl in spite of all that had happened to her.

Whens she is done, he is waiting for her at the door. Unprepared to extend his hand to her in the event he is rejected, Sigma holds open the door for her instead, hoping it might make up for the last time he had stood there.

It was good to be out again. If their fellow patrons had reviled Eponine's presence, Sigma had not noticed. He was struck by the pleasure of modern conveniences, realizing he had nearly forgotten that the world was made up of more than survival and misery. Watching movies had been a favourite pastime of his as a young man, and a day at the theatre had taken him back to a happier time. It might have been a childish film, but it was deeply nostalgic, and he had enjoyed it. Shame about the lack of Julie Andrews, though - and that some of the more stark references to an imposing dictatorship had been watered down.

He sticks his hands in his pockets, wondering what Eponine must be thinking. She had no frame of reference with which to compare it to, and he wonders if she had found it all somewhat immature for her. "...Well, what did you think?"

"It was..."

She has to pause, to find the right words to describe it. She had liked the love story between the nun and the man, and she could well imagine it her and Mari - no. Her and Grantaire, maybe. Maybe.

"That girl is stupid, isn't she? What was she called? Liesl? I think she is a bit of a sop. I shouldn't like to be as prissy as her. But she would probably be a better daughter for you."

She links her arm through Sigma's, resting her scarred cheek against his shoulder. "And can you imagine all those brothers and sisters? Her song is stupid, though. For seventeen, she has done nothing, never even kissed. I kissed when my hair still had curls!"

She might be a little bit jealous of Leisl.

Sigma watches Eponine carefully for a sign of her approval - and then is so relieved about her complaint that he begins to laugh. He thinks to explain to her that the script is a product of another time, but as Eponine was of another time herself, he was not certain it would mean much.

"Perhaps the better word is 'sheltered.' My own son was twenty-two and would have responded similarly, had he come across a member of the opposite sex, I assume. Such is life when you have little opportunity to leave the home." He has finally come to a point where he can talk about Kyle without feeling as though his heart might cave in upon itself. It was a fact that Sigma did actually not know Kyle's sexuality, if he had one - would a clone of someone have the same interests as their original? What a question. He is distracted by the thought as Eponine threads herself into his arm, and a smile returns to his lips. There is another child here and now that he should pay his thoughts to.

His arm curls around and rests upon her back affectionately. "Eponine, I would not accept the entire Von Trapp family in exchange for you. Do not think so little of yourself: no matter how it is you behave, you mean very much to me." He can sense the jealousy in her words and wonders naively why that might be. Liesl didn't end up with her love in the end - in fact, her love betrayed her. Perhaps it would do her some good to think that not all fairytale romances ended stereotypically.

"Even though they are all nice and normal and I am just trouble?" Eponine cuddles into Sigma, hugging him back. She loves that.
"Well, you know, I should rather you than a Captain. And I should not like that Frederick. He is not a nice boy. What a drip - and to betray the one you love so - well, never, ever would I do that. I should always fight for the people I love, even if I die." She is content to just wander through the streets like this, taking in the sights of the Capitol, with her father's arm around her, and an ice cream in her hand (Hint!).

"Of course. I am not easy to deal with, myself," he admits, and is positive Eponine would agree. He cannot help but feel disappointed when she reveals that she would fight to the death for a loved one - he is already aware, and had never considered it a positive trait. But loyalty obviously mattered to Eponine, and now Sigma had to prepare for a time in his life that he might lose her because of it.

It made him want to hold her tighter, while he still could.

"I know. You are not a coward." Not like Sigma was, that day he had locked Eponine in her room. He does not want to leave that thought hovering between them, so he quickly searches for something else to say: "What did you think of the music? I have always been partial to the reprise of 'Favourite Things' when Maria returns to the children. It casts a different light on the words; that she had come to love them above all." If Eponine wanted a treat, she should say so now - Sigma was either too lost in thought or oblivious to notice!

Edited 2015-01-07 17:52 (UTC)

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[CLOSED] Did you cut your hands on me?

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