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[credere]

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[credere]

"What? No. I'm not angry with him."

He looks down at his cat.

"Quentin and I shared a dream last night. We were...together."

[poetontheinside]

"Oh," he says, then blinks. Oh.

"Were you, uh, ever-- before? I mean, not that you'd remember, I know, just--"

[credere]

"No," he says. "No, we weren't. But in the dream, we were, and....it was good. I liked it."

Criminally understated. He swallows dryly.

"Then I woke up and went to him, because I...I did remember. Most everything, I think."

[poetontheinside]

He pulls Goldstein up into his lap, and is rewarded for his efforts by some seriously intense kneading-- nails included, but he can forgive that.

He almost misses that last part, but when it clicks his eyebrows shoot up and he looks over at Credence. "You mean-- the whole Barge? You remember?"

[credere]

"I can't know for sure. But - I think so."

Anyway:

"...I fell asleep at his place. In the morning, Jedao came in and told Quentin he'd got married. And then Quentin told me to leave."

'Disorienting' is one word.

[poetontheinside]

If Credence has ever heard a record scratch, he would see just that on Ray's expression. That's just-- a lot, in one sentence.

"He got married? Without telling the other guy he's, y'know?"

[credere]

"I guess so. He wasn't very detailed about it."

And Credence was busy with the emotional weight of gaining his memories, losing Quentin, realising he'd never had him, that nobody has ever loved him the way that dream-Quentin did, that maybe nobody ever will.

[poetontheinside]

Right. Back on track. Credence doesn't care about that part of the story, and Ray shouldn't either, not now.

"He just kick you out like that?"

[credere]

"Yes. I'm not angry at him. Either of them."

He's not sure what he's feeling, but he evidently feels enough of it to have trashed his room.

[poetontheinside]

"So this is just, what, you were sick of the decor?"

Pull the other one, pal.

[credere]

"I guess so," he says, woodenly. He's not in a mood that responds well to sarcasm.

[poetontheinside]

"Well, I hope you like it this way, 'cause it's gonna take a while to clean up," he comments. Sarcasm is what he has, sorry.

"Okay. So you ain't angry, but you dreamed about being with Quentin and then you got your memories back. Just a lot to handle?"

He gets that. Not specifically, literally, but he gets feeling overwhelmed enough to just want to break stuff.

[credere]

Credence nods, slowly.

"Yes. It was...it was a lot."

Too much. He shuts his eyes.

[poetontheinside]

"Yeah," he agrees, as the cat settles down to purr in his lap-- as long as Ray keeps providing scratches.

"You didn't get time to think about any of it, neither?"

[credere]

"No. Jedao apologised, but it wasn't - it didn't have anything to do with him."

Being summarily dismissed was what hurt most. The rest was...barely relevant.

[poetontheinside]

Okay. So this doesn't have anything to do with reason, so it's not going to be solved with reasoning. It's a feelings thing. A lot of feelings thing.

"You pissed at Quentin?" His voice has a very clear note of I would definitely get that.

[credere]

"I don't know. Maybe a little."

What he's feeling, but can't identify, is grief. He's mourning everything he had, real or not, that he now remembers losing. He's hating himself for being stupid enough to get invested in friendships that turned out to be ephemeral. That's why he waited to be alone to lash out. He's the only one he wanted to hurt.

"But it's not like the dream was his fault. Or what Jedao did. He made him leave too."

[poetontheinside]

"Yeah. But it still sucked," he says, and now definitely understands. He looks at Credence's face, his eyes, the way he's holding on to Coldwater. Ray kicks at a brass fixture lying on the ground, the sound loud in the room.

"I used to get so fucking angry when I was younger. I'd lose it, completely lose it for what felt like no reason. And when I calmed back down I'd punched the wall until my hand was bleeding or kicked the dresser hard enough I busted my ankle. Still happens, sometimes. It feels like there's somethin' inside me that's gonna swallow me up, and I just need to hit something."

It's only now that he realizes how literal this is for Credence. Being swallowed up by something dark and angry, hurting things, hurting people. Like Ray's own failings, but bigger and badder.

"My dad used to throw me outta the house and tell me to get a grip. So I took up boxing. But then, uh, Stella, my--" You know. "She didn't like it when I did. Uncivilized. So I didn't have a way to get that stuff out again."

He isn't sure where he's going with this.

[credere]

Credence lifts his head, brow creasing.

"So what do you do now? When you're angry?"

[poetontheinside]

"Got divorced," he says, with a crooked little smile. "So I box again. When I can see it comin' from far off, I can get myself into some gloves and just--"

He makes a little mmph sound, jabs the hand that isn't petting the cat hard at the air in front of him. He disturbs some dust.

"I mean, I still fuck up sometimes. Sometimes I get angry, I punch the wrong guy, I get my ass beat. But these days, Fraser's mostly there to grab me before I do anything stupid."

So, boxing, and having people to have your back, and sometimes it still goes wrong. But he sounds like he's already satisfied with that much.

[credere]

Credence looks down at his forearms, bare with his sleeves rolled to the elbow. There's a little more muscle now, given the physical work the circus demanded, but he still feels weak in a way that the Obscurus doesn't. He's not sure a punchbag would make him feel better.

An odd cracking noise makes him look up. There's a flare in the centre of the room, like a fireball appearing from nothing, and then the long elegant shape of his phoenix circling the room with outstretched wings before settling on a perch that wasn't there before. Credence scrambles to his feet, his cat already startled out of his lap.

"Rune-!"

[poetontheinside]

Ray's already resolved to get him in a room with one, though: he's trained enough guys to know how to coax it out of them.

The cracking noise coincides with a little ping! on Ray's communicator: the Admiral, agreeing with his request, and real fast too. It freaks him out for a second, and Goldstein is out of his lap in a split second, scrambling while Ray looks over at the graceful bird suddenly in the room with them.

"Holy shit."

[credere]

Credence practically materialises at the perch, reaching out to stroke his fingertips along the bird's neck, eliciting a soft crooning sound.

"Hi," he whispers, voice a little choked. When he's been battered by loss after loss, it's so good to have something returned to him. "I missed you."

[poetontheinside]

He's scrambled up, both to see a little better and to, well, not feel quite so intimidated by the animal. He fishes his glasses out of an inside pocket and fumbles them on, like putting on glasses would make this less impressive.

Wrong. It's more impressive. And he can see what it's doing to Credence, and he feels like he's finally done something right. Even if it's just putting in a lousy request with the Admiral.

He won't speak just yet; he's a little hesitant to interrupt the reunion.

[credere]

Eventually, Credence looks over his shoulder at Ray, his fingertips still lightly stroking Rune's side like he's afraid he might melt away otherwise. His eyes are red-rimmed.

"...Thank you," he says, quietly.