shifted_logs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Chris (

gotitwrong)
Location: Their flat.
Time: After this.
Summary: :| idk chris is traumatised always and forever
Warnings: ray and chris adventures

He almost enjoyed the walk home. It let him clear his head a little, try to put his thoughts in order, and figure out what he was going to do with Chris - as well as the body. Even though the div had tossed him back a grin and tried to sound like he was okay, he knew it was a bald faced lie.

It didn't help, either, that some paranoid part of his mind was eating away at him, saying he shouldn't have let Chris go off on his own, Chris was his responsibility, and he might get to the flat only to find Chris wasn't there. That maybe, maybe he had started just crying in the car and driven himself up a pole. And of course, it would be the fault of only one man: Ray Carling.

He scowled and hunched his shoulders. He didn't like those sorts of thoughts intruding on him, so when he finally got to their flat and saw the car parked, he couldn't help but grin. Of course Chris was fine. He shouldn't have even entertained the idea...

Ray jogged up the stairs and went to go in, only to find the doors locked. That was one thing Chris didn't usually do - especially when he had the keys. Ray sighed, and unsure if Chris was still in the shower or not, pulled out a pick. It wasn't the first time he had to pick the lock to his own door; though that was usually due to him forgetting the keys when he was still half drunk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Enough time had passed that the shower was lukewarm on the highest setting. This was a problem, not so much though because Chris needed more cleaning. In fact, he was perfectly free of the black blood and the gory grime that had covered him. Even the tiled floor was free of it. But it was hard to feel clean knowing he'd fallen into a pile of mangled corpses. He might have even bumped into one he knew. That was the hardest part.

But he had to get a grip on himself. He couldn't sit in the shower forever. For one, he'd get bloody cold. But more important, it was running away, right? And Ray would come back eventually. He couldn't just lock himself in here.

Finally, Chris shut off the water. He grabbed a towel and threw it on his head and - after a quick pad down - tucked the other around his waist. Now the dilemma of clothes.

Well, Ray's were closest. Good enough.

The way to pick this one specific lock came to him like second nature. The quick series of clicks as he pushed the pins in place was proof enough of that, and he slipped his makeshift pick back into his pocket. He stepped into the flat, where he was greeted with the signs of 'yes, Chris is here' in the form of his suit jacket, still damp with blood, on the floor in front of the telly. Ray figured he knew where it landed originally, judging by the black smears on the screen. But he would think of that later.

"Chris!" he yelled, because now wasn't precisely the time for indoor voices. "You feelin' better?"

He doubted it, but there was no harm in asking. Besides, he wanted a verbal reply to make sure Chris hadn't slunk off to some corner and shut down until further notice. He remembered that very well - after they had been brought back, they had just gone into a more or less barely functioning state. It has been hell getting over that the first time, and he wasn't sure he was up for spending a while coaxing Chris out of trauma.

He had other things to do, after all. There was still a body in the trunk of his car, and he hoped Chris hadn't had a sudden curiosity to nose around the boot to see what all was in there.

Though Chris didn't actually hear the door, he heard Ray's voice loud and clear.

"Uhm, yeah!" he called back, half-hearted at best. He finished buttoning up Ray's shirt and walked out of the bathroom. If it wasn't for the fact that Chris was rather slim, he and Ray could probably trade clothes as much as they wanted. As it was, the shirt didn't fit quite right and the trousers didn't seem to want to stay on.

The dishevelled look ultimately suited how Chris felt. He couldn't even really manage a smile. "Did you, uh, finish with...stuff?"

Ray shut the door to their flat behind him and leaned against the door frame. In different circumstances, seeing Chris dressed in his own clothes, loose and misfitting, might've brought a grin to his face. With the circumstances as they were, he wasn't sure he could manage to fake it.

"Mostly," he said as he slumped his shoulders a bit. "I can get to the last thing later, though. 's not really important."

It seemed Chris hadn't played adventures of 'look in the boot', so that was an ease off his mind. He barely sighed and stepped away from the door frame to move over towards Chris. "You look like a div," he half muttered in some vague attempt at making Chris feel better. Insults always made people feel better.

"Yeah?" Chris tugged at his clothes - Ray's technically, but they shared a flat, so it was the same thing - and gave a slight smile. "Probably, yeah. Yours were closer. Didn't really feel like looking around much for pants."

He walked closer and glanced at the bloody clothes still on the floor. Not a pleasant sight in the least.Even though he felt cleaner now, it still felt wrong somewhere in his head. "What else we gotta do?"

"Not 'we'," Ray said as he pointed a finger at Chris' chest. "You're not comin' along for this one, Chris." He wasn't sure if he had the heart to say 'I'm ditching your body', or something along those lines. Even the half thought made him feel a bit sick.

He withdrew his hand and glanced around the flat. "I suppose I'll clean up, too, seein' as you did a good job of makin' a mess." It was another attempt at lightening his best mate's mood, because as everyone knows, Ray communicates with insults and degradation.

"'S not that bad of a mess." It was a little defensive and pouty, since Chris couldn't really get too offended with Ray leaving him out of whatever he was going to do. Chris didn't really want to do it and Ray didn't seem to want him to, either, so it was all right. But he could at least defend his mess. "Most people can't even see it."

He took Chris' defensiveness as a subtle sign that his teasing and poking was steering Chris somewhat away from whatever woes he had been hanging in for who knows how long. Ray hadn't exactly checked to see how long it took him to walk home.

"Forget it." Ray half-heartedly rolled his eyes, then stepped away and past Chris. "Shit." It dawned on him that he was probably about as much of a mess as Chris when he had come in here on his own. While he hadn't fallen into a pile of bodies, he had done his share of handling one. The stuff he was wearing was probably ruined now.

The only proper response to this situation was to pull out his cigarettes. They always made him feel better when he wasn't in the best of moods. "We got terrible timing, don't we?"

"Yeah..." Chris thought about it for a moment. It was hard not to notice that Ray was covered like he had been. The small was something awful but it was lingering long before Ray came home. Black blood was glittering on the rug.

After a moment, Chris walked forward to get a cigarette as well. "Thing is, I couldn't ignore that place exists, you know? Shit, Ray, we can't because it's still gonna be there."

Ray sighed and tapped out a fag to hand to Chris.

"Thought I could, though." He didn't want to particularly admit that his statements to Diva that he was busy were pretty much lies. He was avoiding the place on purpose. Maybe if he ignored it long enough, it would have gone away, just without that forgetting nonsense.

Without much thought to his actions, he pulled a cigarette out for himself and lit it. "Was doin' a pretty good job of it, ya know? Hadn't been around for months."

He sat down on the couch, tossed his zippo at Chris, and began to remove his shoes. There wasn't much in the way of blood on them anymore, but they were stained, and honest to god, he just didn't want to think about how he was stomping around in that shit. "Then I had to go and stick my fuckin' nose into things. Now you're a wreck - don't try sayin' otherwise, Chris, I know you are - an' I gotta get meself a new pair of shoes."

Ray always did have amazing priorities.

Chris just listened to Ray's wise words and sucked in the cigarette like it was his lifeline. Nicotine always did help them and all they needed now was a few pints from Nelson and some darts. That'd be nice and normal.

Except Chris was pretty sure Ray was right and he definitely couldn't pretend he was all right.

"Yeah, I know." He sat down with Ray and set the zippo between them. "I liked those shoes. Liked my shirt, too."

He threw his shoes at the door. "Startin' to think I should leave you outta things. Plane things, I mean. Every time I get into sommat, it goes skew-whiff."

Ray sniffed disdainfully at his own words, but he knew it was true, more or less. He had a scar down his face from the first day he and Chris could get to the damn place. And that confrontation lead into a later one where Chris almost had his damn neck broken. Them getting blown up wasn't his fault, but you know, there was probably some way to keep Chris out of it.

"Just not havin' a very good track record when it comes to up there. And this were pretty much the least of the lot." He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Meant what I said though. 'bout bein' sorry an' all."

"Weren't your fault. I mean that, too." Chris kept the cigarette to his lips for a moment and tried to steady himself. The nice thing about feeling traumatized was it gave him a good excuse to sit and think about his words for once, instead of blurting out whatever was on the top of his head.

He still blurted out his thoughts but at least he got a minute to smoke out of it. "I'm gonna still help. I need to. Can't just sit back and you and guv do everything. That's not right."

Ray half tilted his head Chris' way so to at least give a semblance of looking at him while he talked. "Take a day or two off, Chris. I'll cover for you. Say you came down with sommat and were sick most of the night."

He took a drag from his cigarette, then leaned forward to dash the ashes into the ashtray on the table. "Be sorta true."

It wasn't hard to notice, either, that Ray ignored Chris' attempt at saying it wasn't his fault. He had already made his decision on the matter, and though he valued Chris' opinion, well, Ray was stubborn. And Chris, being the magical Ray translator/sense-r/what have you that he was, probably could figure it out. Hell, Ray half assumed Chris already knew, himself.

Despite Ray ignoring the assurance, Chris simply let it go. He'd said it and meant it and Ray knew it. Not much else they could do. Chris just sighed and exhaled some smoke, head falling back against the sofa.

"Guess so." The future technology stuff they had was going to come in handy, because Chris had a feeling he was going to be bored out of his mind. "What about the uh...I mean, you and guv, you're gonna let me help with this, right?"

"Dunno how involved the guv is gonna want to be. He's been in a bad mood," Ray said as he took a final drag from his fag, then crushed it into the ash tray. "'sides, if this were a case, it'd be ours. Couldn't go at it without me partner, ya know?"

He paused for a second, then added in, "And tryin' to keep you outta somethin' when you're on a 'you ain't doin' this alone' thing is bloody impossible."

That earned a slight smile. "Yeah? Yeah, we can solve it. Even if it's some bloody bastard off his nut, we can manage it."

"Guv's not been in a good mood since boss forgot," he said after a moment.

Ray grinned, then reached out to muss Chris' still damp hair. He had done good, at least, in getting Chris to smile a bit. It was the most he could ask for at the moment.

Then Ray sighed and removed his hand. "Don't mean that, Chris. It's... different? Dunno. The guv, he pretty much accused me of bein' disloyal."

For a moment, Chris was like some young boy, ducking his head at Ray's hand and even grinning a bit. But then he listened to those curious words and frowned.

"What? But...everyone knows you've got the Guv's back always."

"I know, but somethin's botherin' him, I guess. Ended up sayin' sommat what set him off." Ray shrugged. "Figured I should warn you. Don't wanna hear 'bout him throwin' you off the team 'cause you went and made tea wrong."

"Wonder what's got him with his arse tight like that," Chris wondered, trying to imagine. "Nothing's been that bad lately."

Ray shrugged. "No idea, Chris, but I don't plan on askin'. An' you probably shouldn't either. Guv'd just get more annoyed and tell you to stop actin' like a nancy."

He scowled for a moment, and then leaned forward to at least remove his suit jacket. "Hell, shit's probably gonna stink. Blood's dried and all." And he threw it generally in the same place Chris' had ended up. There. At least his shirt wasn't as bloody.

Chris gave a quick nod. Ray didn't need to tell him twice. The Guv got annoyed with him enough when he was just doing his job.

"Think it washes out?" he asked. "It's supposed to be the same as blood."

Ray nodded as well. "Should. You know how I told you 'bout gettin' my nose busted? Shirt got bloodied. Came out eventually. Just harder, 'cause it's black, ya know?"

He sniffed. "Still has a bit of a stain, but... anyone what notices or anythin', we just say it was an oil stain or sommat. Car broke down, tried to fix it, somethin' like that."

"Oil's a pretty good excuse, yeah." Chris settled back against the sofa. "Be weird if they could see it anyway."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3