Way Down We Go

[agentxthirteen]

Who: Sharon Carter & John Blake
Where: Blake's room
When: Now!
Rating: G
Summary: Sharon is on a hunt! A hunt for the truth! Or... at least some clarification on some of his notes because whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? You can't just leave a scrawl symbol with a couple letters next to it and call it intelligible! Wait, what's that? He has more to say than she bargained for?
The Story:

It has taken her weeks to go through his notes. Weeks outside of the events and a bit of death, at least. Which means... she's had the notes for far too long. And she has done embarrassingly little with them. She's mostly copied much of them into her own notes, often with question marks beside them.

But they finally have a bit of calm, and she's still alive. She's pretty sure he's still alive, too, which means this is the perfect time to talk to him.

She knocks on his door and waits, a stack of folders tucked under her arm.

Already, she's telling herself not to snap at him for keeping notes only he can understand. It isn't as if he'd logged mission reports. She takes a breath and holds her tongue as best she can.

It might only last for three minutes, tops, but hey. She's trying.

Comments

[oversight]

It takes him a moment to get to the door because it's up to Blake to corral the animals. He's not harried when he opens the door, only slightly disheveled in that his hair is a little out of place and there's orange and white cat fur spotting his dark t-shirt and jeans.

"Sharon, hey. C'mon in," he says, not unsurprised to see her. He notes the folders and that she doesn't appear to be in any particular distress which is probably the more surprising part. There haven't been more than a handful of visitors to this particular room that have arrived with purpose less mundane than murder.

He steps aside to offer her access to what is arguably a grand bedroom, even for his tastes (—especially for his tastes). But living with Crowley means the logic-defying bedroom has two floors, a large kitchen, the best bathroom anyone's ever seen (according to Blake), not to mention a million other tiny little touches, including a personal library. It's no Wayne Manor, but it's certainly not bad. It's definitely a step up from the dark wood and peeling wallpaper of his last place.

"You want somethin' to drink?" He backs away toward the kitchen leaving her to deal with the door. The pets all maintain their respectful distances, but watch Carter nonetheless. A cat, some dogs. The hellhound watches from the loft above, although she's invisible to most everyone's eye, including Blake's, so she's hardly menacing. Thankfully the giant albino crocodile still lives in the basement (Crowley's decision, mind you — Sharon probably wouldn't be surprised to know he really is the more practical one the majority of the time).

[agentxthirteen]

She gives him a curt nod and steps inside, closing the door slowly enough not to alarm him (or anyone, since she was raised and works around spies). She can smell the animals, but it isn't overwhelming, just enough to indicate that he has several more than she's accustomed to. The scent doesn't hit her like a ton of bricks... unlike the size of the room. Her eyes widen. "Uh, no," she says after a moment. "No drink. Thank you."

She glances at him, debates for a moment, then waves a hand at the- er... the elephant in the room, so to speak. "I didn't know we could do things like this in our bedrooms, too." Although, now that she thought about it, it made sense. If they could make the training center into what it was, of course they could do this. She gives a low whistle. "But now I've got ideas for my place."

She holds up the stack of files. "I came for translations." Obviously. Why else would she be there? She didn't come for the petting zoo.

"You look like crap, by the way. After we go over the notes, you should get some sleep."

She cares about your health, Blake.

Now answer her questions before you take care of yourself.

[oversight]

He makes a face, but it's hardly one of consequence. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?" he asks, amused by her candor. It's strange to think how few people bother to take a strong stance when it comes to John's personal health. Stranger yet when near-strangers do it.

John gestures to the island in the kitchen where there are a couple bar stools, and then toward the couch in the living area. "Dunno where you'd be more comfortable, but take your pick. Can have a look 'round, too, if you want — shouldn't be long." Which is to say, he's already on his way to the refrigerator where he plans to grab a beer and maybe some snacks. No reason this can't be a semi-formal endeavor, if that.

As he procures his bounty, he can't help but let his thoughts linger on Sharon. He likes her. Maybe more than he's told her, in fact, considering how they've found themselves bickering here and there. While her admonishments feel weirdly misplaced, he doesn't think it's so much because Carter is the worrying type — she seems to take care of a good amount of people who aren't named John Blake — but because she's worrying about him. There's really very little benefit for her in that, as far as he's concerned.

[agentxthirteen]

She sets up at the stool. She doesn't need to relax when going over notes with someone. To her way of thinking, a stool where someone can't fall asleep is the better choice, hands down.

She arranges the folders to her liking and watches him as he works. She perches on the stool and rests her elbows on the counter. And then, because she can't resist: "You are getting enough sleep, though, right?"

[oversight]

Leave it to Sharon to want to take all of the fun out of this. Which, strangely enough, feels like a very odd thing indeed when Blake had been the one so eager to remain stoic at all times.

"Yeah, oh yeah. Nothin' to worry 'bout there." Could it be a lie? Sure. He's fairly adept at that. But truthfully, the tiredness that plagues him has little to do with a lack of sleep and a lot to do with the every day rigors of Wonderland.

Some cheese, crackers, olives and who knows what else is dumped somewhat haphazardly onto a cutting board in an oh-so-bohemian manner and then places on the counter between them.

"How about you?" He leans in over the counter, dark eyes taking her in. She's a pretty cool character, but Blake reckons he can tell if she's avoiding something in her own right.

[agentxthirteen]

Cheese and crackers, olives, and- she isn't sure, but is this cheese artisanal? Shit. All of her work meetings should be like this.

Unless he doesn't realize this isn't a work meeting.

She eyes him as he takes her in, her expression calculating, maybe a little cold. No, she decides, her features softening. He isn't trying to win her over or some crap. Good.

"Died for the first time a while ago, but other than that, just dandy." She holds up one of the files. "Let me guess. You don't write everything down because your memory is so good. But your boon has the disadvantage of making many of these notes essentially worthless to anyone but yourself." She gives the folder a little wave. "I know we could chitchat, but I'd rather focus on what needs to be done first. Mind if I pick your brain?"

[oversight]

Somehow he's not surprised. Sharon is... Sharon. She has a way about her that John can appreciate, although he suspects if he mentioned as much, she might give him a look. Honestly, it's not his fault he's trained to observe.

"Sure, sure," he agrees with a nod. She's exactly right about the notes, although he hasn't shown her his more personal collection, which is detailed in a totally different manner. These notes are brief reminders — things that would allow him to make quick connections without too much research.

"Where d'you wanna start?" He plucks up a piece of cheese and chews on it, smiling at her a little. This should be entertaining.

[agentxthirteen]

She closes her eyes. "With an apology for the 'pick your brain' thing. I just realized how that sounded after talking about zombies."

She takes a deep breath and flips to one of the pages with a barely-visible sticky note. She's marked all of the residents who are currently at Wonderland.

"For the record, if we go too long, I can come back later. I don't have anything more important going on until the next event. Until then, let's start with, say... everything you know about Evelyn O'Connell..."

[oversight]

"Everything?" he asks, and he's not sure why he's surprised. Sharon is... quite thorough. More thorough than he is, he thinks, but that's less of a surprise these days considering he's fallen so far by the wayside.

"Well, she's been here longer'n me. Longer'n most everyone here, actually. So, five years, I think. She went home for a while, came back older. She's definitely not just a librarian. Think she likes the edge that gives her a lot more'n she admits. And she's tough. Maybe one of the toughest ladies I know.

"Pretty sure she was raised in England. For a while, at least. Brother, husband, son... A real interest in learnin', takin' pictures, bein' otherwise a quality individual. Hell of an accurate shot with any kinda thing — gun or crossbow or whatever — and I wouldn't be shocked if she's also some kinda goddess in disguise or somethin'."

He leans back in his chair, the suspicion lingering that he's not being quite the kind of informant Carter's looking for.

"She's good people. Real good people." His fondness is ever-lasting, even when they do tend to butt heads (which is more often than you'd expect).

[agentxthirteen]

She nods. She knows she didn't stutter when she said everything, Blake. And she knows he understands what she means by everything.

Which he soon proves by talking about Evelyn, telling her as much as he supposedly can. There are still a lot of gaps, but they're more than she had before.

"Why do you think Wonderland brought her here? I know, I know, we don't know why Wonderland brings any of us here, but why do you think it brought her here?"

Is it possible that Evelyn was here all along? No, no, that man had been there. Rick. Her husband. So Sharon is back to considering what makes Evelyn so special that she's still around when so few others last half so long.

[oversight]

"Y'know, spend a lotta time thinkin' 'bout that, and it sure seems like she — like the rest of us — are kinda the same type, right? All serial killers, cannibals, and serial killing cannibals aside, most of us are good guys, aren't we? Usually intelligent individuals that've seen a lotta shit.

"And Evie's seen a lotta shit, let me tell you."

But really, it begs the question which of them hasn't lived a somewhat spectacular lives? He leans forward some, eyeing Sharon critically. "Tell me you haven't. We all have. And not just here."

Honestly, Blake can't remember the last person he met that doesn't have something looming over their heads from back home.

[agentxthirteen]

Sharon shrugs. "I'm just a person. I mean, sure, a spy. Or at least, back home I was, but I'm nothing like my aunt, I'm nothing like my coworkers." She grins a little. "I'm not an Avenger, or a hero. Don't have superpowers or questionable hobbies." She gives him a look at that one. She doesn't know what he's up to most of the time, but the notes he'd given her, how widespread they were if not detailed, told her that he wasn't some lowly detective. "I wasn't even hurt as badly when things went south at work. Even managed to shed the terrorist label, but that was mostly just paperwork."

And her aunt's legacy, she suspects. And if that's the case, why didn't Wonderland keep Peggy here instead of Sharon?

"What about you, Blake? What shit have you seen?"

[oversight]

Something about the way she says all of that reminds him so much of himself, he can't help but shake his head. It sounds ridiculous, but then he knows the same could be said when those kinds of words come out of his mouth.

Superpowers does not a hero make, he thinks, and feels himself a credible enough judge, being in the shadow of the Batman.

"Nothin' like you've seen, prob'ly. We don't have superheroes or superpowers. Just a lotta... mostly normal people pushed to their limits by a city fed on sensationalism.

"But we've had our fair share of bad things in Gotham. Just since I joined the force, the city's been under siege — majorly under siege — four or five times."

He neglects so many more details when it comes to himself. There are notes about him somewhere, notes he's never shared, notes that have seen no eyes but his own. Maybe some day he'll pass the on. For now, he fills in the details scarcely, despite being willing to tell all.

"So... we have our own hero. No team of heroes, just the Batman, who acts in ways law enforcement can't. Or won't. Saved the city as many times as it's needed it now. More times than some might say it deserves." Not Blake, though. He'll always love that wretchedly dark city for what it truly is.

[agentxthirteen]

She listens, resolved not to react. Stone-cold bad-ass beyotch. Yeah.

And then, something like five seconds later, he says his city has been under siege multiple times, and her eyes fucking widen.

She continues to listen. He's never spoken with her more openly than now, and she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But then he says the magic words, and her face falls. When he's done, she gives him a get-real look. "Batman? Seriously? You spent all that time setting up... whatever that was... for some sort of joke about a bat man?"

She leans forward and rubs her temples. A hero named Batman. Jesus. And she had been so close to buying into it, too.

[oversight]

He gives her that get-real look right back, leaned forward a little himself. "After everything you've seen, this is what you call bullshit on?" She's friends with Captain America, for Christ's sake. Need he reminder her of that?

Instead, John holds up a finger and he's on his feet and gone a moment later. When he returns, he tosses a stack of colorful comic books out in front of Sharon — a half dozen Batman comics from a much more vast collection. He'd gotten these particular copies from Dean Winchester, who had been the first person in Wonderland to question what Blake does in his spare time.

"It sounds like fiction, 'cause it is." He pauses, mostly for effect, and then sighs and sits back. "For everyone but me, at least. Snicker all you want, but the Batman is every— was every bit a hero, and Gotham's savior more times than I can count."

[agentxthirteen]

"It just... seems a little silly. Bat-Man?" She doesn't speak with the same conviction she'd used before, though. She supposes that Wonderland does change a person's perspective. And Iron Man could change a person's understanding of the impossible, too. And Thor. Definitely Thor. But come on. A hero name Batman? Come on, Blake. You have to see how silly that is.

She sorts through the comics and has to lower her face to hide the laughter she's trying to suppress. Not only is he called Batman, but he tries to dress like one, too? Does he use his cape to fly, too? Does he speak with echolocation? Does he chase after Fruitfly Man?

She manages not to laugh and thumbs through one of the issues. Billy has told her about Captain America comics - she even has a counterpart in those stories. She probably shouldn't laugh at the Batman comics, despite how she's tempted to.

She points to Robin in one of the stories. "Don't tell me this is you." Or better yet, say it is him. Because if she finds out that Blake ever ran around while looking like a circus escapee, she's going to have a new favorite Wonderland memory. And it goes without saying that she won't keep the laughter down - at all.