Mullet-verse fic: Dangers of Dihydrogen Monoxide, chapter 5
Title: Dangers of Dihydrogen Monoxide
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Junior, Goldie, Booster/Beetle (mention), Pulsar (mention), Max, J'onn
Word Count: 4542
Rating: PG-13?
Author's Notes: Since the Boostle content in this will be minimal, I've decided to post it here in my own journal. New updates are linked to on boostle in the notes for stories that are actually Boostlecentric enough to be posted there.
Because it fits this whole story perfectly, I present links to the lyrics and the MP3 of "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. I highly recommend it. ^_^
(Decided to post this before the next chapter of "Redemption of Booster Gold," just because it's been too damn long and the next chapter's just not done yet. I'll still pimp this when I post that chapter, but in the mean time it's already up. So here. *waves vaguely* It's over thirteen pages, don't kill me for going slow!)
(LJ-cut quote is from "mef" on Wanderer.)
CHAPTERS: { Prologue }{ Chapter One }{ Chapter Two }{ Chapter Three }{ Chapter Four }{ Chapter Five }{ Chapter Six }{ Chapter Seven }{ Epilogue }
<-{ previous story: Legacies and Traditions } { next story: Little Boy Blue }->
Beta by lakidaa.
~5th Chapter
He won't understand it till he's older.
Most of the time Ted's just fine, but sometimes he has Good Days and Bad Days. Those are mostly fine, too, because he's had them all his life so he can deal.
Sometimes Ted has Very Bad Days, though.
They don't happen often, hardly ever, but when they do he stays in his room and B--Uncle Mike has to call in sick for him at work, then go stay in the bedroom with him. Junior can hear Uncle Mike through the door, talking quietly to Ted, assuring him of his worth, that people care about him, that maybe you should see a doctor, Ted, I'm worried about you, and it affects others, too, and think about Junior, what if he's got it too, see a doctor about it for his sake at least--it's not your fault, Ted, no it's okay, it's okay, god I'm sorry, it's okay, Ted, please....
And sometimes he can hear what sounds like Ted crying, and Uncle Mike sounding distressed, and it's all a little scary, so he pretends it doesn't happen. It works, because everyone else does, too. It doesn't happen, so there's nothing to talk about. If the next day Ted's eyes are red and he looks haggard, and Uncle Mike looks tired and upset...well, Junior just makes sure to hug them, because even if nothing's wrong, hugs can't hurt.
And he makes sure there's food, because food makes everything better, as far as he's concerned.
And it might be a Bad Day for Ted, but it'll get better and he'll be just fine again....
He's still young when the poker craze hits. Suddenly there are cards and chips and TV shows and competitions all over. (Looking back, he'll remember Uncle Mike acting tense, but at the time he didn't notice.)
He's halfway through his fourth game with some friends when a hand lands on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees his d--Uncle Mike.
"We need to talk," Uncle Mike says quietly.
Junior hesitates, because he's got a king and a queen and a ten and so far no one's noticed him counting cards and...and...but the hand squeezes his shoulder and he reluctantly leaves the table.
They go into another room, and Uncle Mike's hand is still on his shoulder, and he's not looking at Junior but there's something about his expression....
"I...I don't think it's a good idea for you to be playing poker," Uncle Mike finally says, meeting his eyes.
"But--"
"I'm serious."
"But I'm up twenty bucks!" he whispers urgently.
"And what are you down?"
"Just five."
"Then you'll end on a high note."
"But--"
Uncle Mike squeezes his shoulder again, then drops to one knee so they're level, his other hand coming to rest on Junior's other shoulder. "Son, I really mean it. Okay? No poker. Not for money, not for chips, not even for candy. Maybe for fun, but please, no gambling." The look on his face is serious, and guilty, and a little ashamed, and just a tiny bit scared. "No gambling on anything. I need you to promise."
His expression reminds Junior a little of the time Uncle Mike got mad about something, he doesn't remember what, and accidentally backhanded him because he didn't know Junior was behind him. He looks like he's hurt Junior without meaning to, and it doesn't make any sense.... "I--"
"Promise," Uncle Mike whispers, eyes wide and hands firm on his shoulders.
Bewildered, Junior promises, and Uncle Mike pulls him into a hug, holding him tight like he's afraid if he doesn't hold him tight enough Junior's going to break away and run off to bet on horses and dogs and football games while gambling his way through Las Vegas with a fake ID. Uncle Mike mutters something that could be an apology or a thank you, and Junior just hugs him back.
"Remember," Uncle Mike repeats before he leaves. "No gambling."
Junior nods. "No gambling."
He won't understand it till he's older.
Why when he went back to the poker game to watch, he made little bets with himself in his head.
Why sometimes he has Good Days and Bad Days, though they're never as drastic as Ted's, and he's never yet had a Very Bad Day.
He won't understand it till he's older.
...Now he's older, and it feels like he's having a Very Bad Day.
---------------
"You can find his brain okay, right, J'onny?"
Sitting cross-legged on top of the plateau again, J'onn frowned. "Don't call me that."
"Sorry," Goldie said blithely, sitting across from him. "He was just going to take a nap when I left."
"I'll find him." With that, J'onn closed his eyes and went still. Fidgeting, Goldie bit her lip to keep from interrupting. After a few moments, J'onn's brow furrowed and his frown deepened. "I've found him. His thoughts are...erratic."
"Wet dream?"
J'onn grimaced. "Erratic, not ero--"
"I know, I know, sorry." Goldie waved her hands. "Habit."
"He's awake," J'onn continued. "But...there is a strangeness to his mind. Like he's seeing things that aren't there, remembering things that didn't happen...what is a very bad day? There is special significance to it, but his mind keeps shying away from solid thoughts."
"What did you say?" Goldie asked, eyebrows rising.
"'Very bad day'," J'onn repeated. "What meaning does it hold for Junior?"
Goldie grimaced. "Very Bad Days are what Mr. K sometimes has," she said slowly and reluctantly. "They're...well, I guess it's when his...I dunno, his brain chemistry just has a full on freak-out. They don't really talk about it much." She shrugged uncomfortably and pulled a knee up to her chest, resting a forearm on it as she stared at the ground. "Junior sometimes has little freak-outs, but nothing like Mr. K."
"Hm, I had on occasion suspected--" J'onn broke off with a gasp, hand flying to his forehead.
"J'onn?" Goldie sat up, reaching for him.
J'onn gritted his teeth. "Something...is influencing his mind. Showing him...horrible destruction! A Justice League gone mad. I'm trying to make him see reason, but he won't listen. Plans...what plans?" Eyes flying open, the glowing orange narrowed at Goldie. "What plans?"
Recoiling, Goldie's eyes widened. "What plans?" she asked breathlessly. "J'onn, what plans was he thinking about?"
"Plans for the destruction of the Justice League," J'onn growled.
"Not destroy," Goldie whispered, covering her mouth with one hand as her expression grew horrified. "Just...stop. If anything happened. Mind control, stolen powers, things like that. It's happened before!" Her eyes pleaded for J'onn to understand. "It started with Max. Max...he was scared of what he might become! What he already had become. ...Junior promised never to let that happen. So he came up with plans, ways to stop Max if he ever...became like that again. ...And he just kept going."
Goldie shifted, hand sliding up to cover her eyes. "You have to understand," she murmured. "He didn't do it out of fear. He didn't do any of it out of fear. He did it out of...love, I guess. He didn't want his friends to have to go through what their predecessors did. Hell, Kon'd already gone nuts before Junior even met him. D'you know how much that messed the guy up? He beat the crap outta his friends and couldn't stop himself! ...Junior didn't want that to happen again. To any of them." She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "So he came up with the contingency plans."
"Batman had contingency plans, too," J'onn pointed out with quiet anger, arms crossed over his chest.
Goldie winced. "I know. Junior knows too. But...." She shook her head and lifted her eyes to meet his. "You don't understand, it's different."
"How?"
"Batman wrote everything down. Junior...look, I've seen his files. They're gibberish! I couldn't make sense of most of what he had written, and I probably know better than just about anyone how his twisted little brain works."
"Codes can be broken."
"It's not a code!" Goldie exclaimed, throwing her arms out. "It's like specialized shorthand or something. Half of it's in Esperanto or Yiddish, and what's in English is just vague references to things only Junior gets. He used to write his class notes like that, drove me nuts. The teacher could yak on for twenty minutes about something and he'd come up with 'spoon, hexagon, shalom'! Junior is the only one who understands it."
J'onn's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "So the only way to make use of those plans--"
"Is to get Junior to use them himself," Goldie finished, reaching up to tap her comm. "OMAX, need a trace on Blue."
"On it," came the instant reply. There was a brief pause before Max spoke again. "Looks like he's on the move."
"Where's he going?" Goldie asked urgently.
"Want me to ask?"
"No!" Goldie gasped.
"It's bad, isn't it?" Max said grimly. "Overlaying his coordinates and route on a map.... What the hell?"
Goldie stood up, flipping her visor down. "What is it?"
"It looks like he's heading for the warehouse."
"The w--Max, where's the KOPMEG currently stored?"
"In the warehou--Oh zombie Jesus, you can't be serious!"
"What is the Kopmeg?" J'onn asked, rising to his feet.
Goldie bit her lip, then glanced at him. "You remember how Junior's folks stopped the OMAC invasion way back when? The giant EMP...thing? The KOPMEG did that."
"And would have a similar effect on Max, I assume?"
Nodding, Goldie said, "It's one of the plans. I know about it too, just in case Junior can't use it."
"One of the plans?" J'onn asked.
"Well c'mon, Max is smart." Goldie shrugged. "He knows about it, he knows what EMPs do to him. He could go hang out in a hospital or something so we couldn't use it without knocking out life support for a few dozen people. The KOPMEG can only be used if Max is in a place that--"
"Can withstand an electro-magnetic pulse equivalent in strength to a fifty-megaton nuclear blast," Max interrupted sourly.
"Right," Goldie agreed.
J'onn frowned. "What?"
"Oh right, you can't hear him." Goldie pointed to her comm. "Max said it's like a fifty-megaton nuclear blast."
"Which may not occur to Junior in this state," J'onn said grimly.
Goldie winced. "Crap, you're right. Max, it looks like Junior's going after the Justice League. Starting with you."
"My super isn't going to like that."
"Max!"
"Relax," he sighed impatiently. "Do you want me to put out a general alert to the League?"
Goldie glanced at J'onn, then nodded reluctantly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Warn them of a possible threat that knows their weaknesses. We're going after him."
"On it," Max replied. "Good luck. OMAX out."
"Well," Goldie said to J'onn, rising a few feet in the air. "Let's go knock some sense into my partner."
---------------
He's standing in the doorway of his room, quest for a glass of water forgotten as he stares at his parents in the living room.
There's a song playing on the TV and Booster's grinning and tugging Ted to his feet, despite his protests. Ted is chuckling as he gives in, looking at Booster with affectionate exasperation. Then they're dancing a silly parody of a slow dance, quietly laughing together.
And all of a sudden he thinks yes. That. He wants that. Some day he wants someone he can laugh with and dance to commercials with. Someone he can be silly with, and--
--that's not what happened at all. Uncle Mike tripped getting up from the couch and Dad caught him.
And it was funny because for a moment it looked like they were dancing. That's it.
Acoustium, actinium, aluminum, amazonium, americium, arrrrgentum? No, that's silver. Keep going. Argon, arsenic, astatine, aur--gold. Skip it, keep going. Barium, berkelium, beryllium, bismuth, bohrium, buh-buh--rhymes with moron. Boron! Bromine, cadmus--no, cadmium. Keep going. Calcium--does a body good. Focus! Californium, carbon, cerium, cesium, chlorine, chromium, cobalt, copper...cuprum? Same thing. Keep going. Curium, darmstadtium, dilithium, d--Wait, that's...dilithium is from Star Trek. Crap! Focus, keep going. Dub...dubnium! Dysprosium, einsteinium, erbium, eternium, europium, fermium, ferrum...no, that's iron. Isn't it? Iron, Fe. Ferrum. Right. I...focus. Keep going. Keep...focus....
When Dr. not-Mengele asked him about his outburst during Max's visit, Junior blamed the medication he'd been given. He insisted he'd been better before the medication, that the medication was in fact making him worse.
Dr. not-Mengele introduced him to a doctor whose name wasn't Kevorkian, who would be in charge of his medication from then on.
When he was given the choice of a needle or a pill, Junior confessed to an extreme phobia of needles. So extreme, in fact, that he sometimes screamed uncontrollably when they got too close to him. Really.
If either Dr. not-Mengele or Dr. not-Kevorkian thought it suspicious that he didn't meet their eyes while talking, or that they had never heard of his phobia before, they didn't say anything.
Junior got a pill and, after they checked to make sure he'd swallowed it, was sent back to his padded white room.
He vomited and smashed the pill into his padded white floor.
The pill was white and his vomit was clear (except for the tiny carroty bits that were actually stomach pieces, thank you high school biology class), so he didn't get the satisfaction of marring his room's whiteness.
After that they gave him an injection. As promised, he screamed.
Purple haze! All in my brain. Something something dahdah the same. Something something, don' know why. 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky! Dah nah nah nah! Something....
Hm hm hm hm, see you laughing in the purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain....
It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater! (One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater.) Uh, we wear short shorts! Flyin' purple people eater. Sure looks strange to me. (One eye!)
Purple purple purple purple.
Violet, indigo, uh...magenta, mauve...lilac? Eggplant! Purple purple purple.
Raisins, grapes, those snails that make purple dye...Pulsar. Mmm--In costume! Pulsar in costume. Ralph! Huntress. Um, ultraviolet, amethyst, alkaline methyl violet, lavender, plum, eggplant, bruises, Purple Heart, pimpmobile, Leela's hair, that sewer guy in The Tick, velvet, Amazon healing beam....
Purplepurplepurplepurpleeggplant!
On Thursday, Junior's padded white room was purple.
He was the only one who noticed, and during that day's session with Dr. not-Mengele he said he thought he was finally getting the hang of Thursdays.
Junior laughed until he was sedated and returned to his room.
It was white again.
He's telling them bull stories, and the thought makes him laugh and think of gentle Ferdinand. But he can't tell them why he laughed because then they'll suspect his lies, half-truths, and mis...something. Lies, half-truths, and mis-something. How does the quote go?
Lies, half-truths, and bull stories.
During one of his sessions with Dr. not-Mengele, he managed to steal a pen before he was returned to his padded white room. He wrote calculations on the padded white walls until he passed out from sleep deprivation.
He hated sleeping in the padded white room. The light never changed, so it was hard anyway. But he felt...vulnerable when he was asleep. Exposed. Like he was being observed without any knowledge of it.
The passage of days was difficult to determine, but when he had a dream that Dr. not-Mengele and Dr. not-Kevorkian drilled a hole in his head to drain out his grey matter...he stayed awake for what he thought was probably two days before an injection of whatever sedative they were giving him knocked him out.
He didn't dream then, and he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
"Daaad. Feel gross."
"Well you're sick, kiddo. I'd be worried if you liked it."
"It sucks," Junior grouses, and Ted chuckles.
"Yeah, what were you thinking, getting sick?" he teases.
Junior grimaces and shifts with weak restlessness. "Why'm I sweaty? M'not doin' anything."
"Not true, kiddo," Ted corrects, adopting his "learn ya something" tone of voice. "Your body's hard at work fighting...whatever it is you have. That's a heck of a workout. And you've got a fever because viruses don't like to be hot, so your body's turning up the heat to burn 'em out." He brushes Junior's hair back from his sweaty forehead and places a blissfully cool cloth on it. "So now you're sweating out the impurities."
"Like fractional distillation?" Junior asks sleepily, leaning into his dad's touch.
"You got it."
"Cool," he says, grinning weakly.
"Yeah," Ted murmurs, gently ruffling his hair. "So hang in there, kiddo. You'll get through this just fine."
One day was spent in a frenzy of activity. Junior, literally at times, bounced off the walls of his padded white room. Occasionally he muttered something that sounded like "Moe, Larry, cheese."
He didn't stop moving until he was dripping with sweat, on his hands and knees in the middle of the padded white floor as he caught his breath. Swiping a shaky hand across his sweaty forehead, he stared at it for a moment. Giving his hand a curious sniff, Junior tentatively jabbed his tongue at the moisture.
Spitting to the side, Junior dropped his hand to the floor again and grinned triumphantly. Then he sat back on his heels and stripped off his white shirt to quickly wipe the sweat from the top half of his body. Once he was dryer, he tossed the shirt aside and stripped off his pants to repeat the process with the bottom half of his body.
When he was done, Junior threw the pants over with his shirt and flopped onto his back on a part of the floor that was mostly sweat-free.
His skin felt a little tacky, but he had gotten most of the sweat off before it had a chance to soak back in.
His triumphant grin remained in place as he waited for his mind to clear.
They're still young and inexperienced. Blue Boy and Golden Girl, the younger team Blue and Gold!
They don't see the structural damage until the building's already falling down around them and Goldie knocks him to the ground, forcefield coming up to cover them both. Cringing as the world crumbles and caves in and explodes around them, shaking them despite the forcefield, they cling to each other until it's all over but for the dust to settle.
Breathing heavy, they glance out at the whirling clouds of dust dancing through debris. There's a chunk of concrete leaning against the forcefield over Goldie's shoulder.
Then they look at each other. Goldie's laying completely on top of him and their legs are tangled together. After a moment, Blue slowly, slowly leans up...
...and licks Goldie's nose.
Goldie stares at him in shock for a second, then recoils with a squeal of disgust. He can't stop laughing the whole time she's indignantly smacking his shoulder and calling him names--
--the song, but it's got a good beat for dancing. The dance floor is crowded and hot and the smell of sweat lingers in the air.
But Goldie's with him, laughing as they dance together. He's doing what he remembers of the dances in old Charlie Brown cartoons and Goldie looks like she can't decide between the Time Warp and the Electric Slide. They look completely ridiculous, and they've gotten a few weird looks, and the other dancers are giving them some space.
They're having a blast.
Then Goldie has his hands in hers and they're pulling in, then tugging apart. Spinning in circles and wiggling and laughing the whole time and Goldie is--
--hurt. Goldie's hurt and he has to protect her from....
God, they've gone nuts. He has to stop them, has to find who's pulling the strings.
Max. It's--It can't be. He promised. He promised!
Have to stop them before anyone else gets hurt. Plans. The plans. He has to...No! No, it's...it's wrong. It's all wrong. Something's....
Don't want to think about this....
So much power...so much potential for destruction...it's always a joke, "glad they're on our side," and now they're not. And he has to stop Max to stop them. But first he has to get through them.
Everyone has weaknesses. He has to use theirs to stop them, take them down. He's made promises he intends to keep.
No choice...no choice....
This isn't real, Junior. None of this is real. It's all in your--
Get out of my head!!
Junior--
Lalala, not listening, not listening, goawaygoawaygoaway, lalala, I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves and this is how it goes, dum dum dum! I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY'S NERVES! EV--
--freefall, wind whipping at what little of his face is exposed, and he can see every second of the ground rushing to meet him because of his goggles.
"Howdy, folks, this is your friendly neighborhood Blue Beetle with an important announcement that I can't fly! Anyone who wants to give me a hand with that, I'm at three thousand feet and falling. Thank you, and have a nice day."
It's a shame freefall ends in a messy splat if someone doesn't catch you--
--sneaks out with the flight ring, and it's not stealing because he'll give it right back when he's done. It's just borrowing....
Doesn't matter if it was, he'd do it anyway. He loves to fly.
The ring is on his finger and he shoots up so fast tears sting in his eyes from the wind. He doesn't care, though, because he's there. Above the clouds, where the world is a different place and the sky ruffles his hair and embraces him in a giant hug so he flings his arms wide to hug back.
He's Peter Pan crowing triumphant. He's Icarus daring the sun to burn him. He is a leaf on the wind....
Watch how he soars.
It's complete freedom of movement. Essence of freedom. The only thing he knows that comes even close is swimming, but then the water presses in and air is iffy. Here...this is air. Pure and beautiful and magnificent.
Nothing at all like it. Not when he jumps from Bug's hatch and lets himself fall until the skywire clutched firmly in hand abruptly stops him. Not sex, when he's riding the rush of endorphins and human contact. Not falling from a plane until a teammate catches him...but then they soar together and it's kind of amazing like that. Flying on his own he can choose the direction. Flying with someone else...he's held by and against another body and they're sharing this wonderful experience--
No! No, not this. Anything else. Not this, please. Not this.
--but that's all wrong. He's never--
NO! God, please. Not this, don't take this. Don't take the sky. I need that! Please, oh god, please, don't, don't, not this, nonononononono. Please! I can't...I can't...no....
--flown before. He's got a license for aircrafts, but it's not the same as--
Gray Face take you, don't do this! Anything! Anything at all, take anything, not this! PLEASE! Please...take anything else...I'll give you anything...just not this...don't take this....
...I need the air to breathe....
"You okay, hon?"
Arms wrapped around himself, Junior lifted his head to glance over his shoulder at Goldie, hair falling in his face. "They gave me anti-depressants!" he hissed, slowly and quietly.
When Goldie didn't reply, he straightened and turned around, gesturing randomly. "I-I mean...I mean, how hard is it to, like, check my medical records? Huh? You gave 'em access, right? They should've been able to pull 'em. What part of 'don't give patient anti-depressants, may trigger mania or hypomania' is so difficult to understand?!"
"Is that what happened with Max?" Goldie asked gently.
Breathing heavy, Junior paused, cocking his head as his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. "He, uh...told you about that, huh?"
Giving a smile that was more of a grimace, Goldie nodded. "He's really worried about you. We all are. Some days you act perfectly sane, and then other days you act like a goddamn psycho and it's just...." She shook her head. "Do you even remember what you did?"
"I...." Junior took a deep breath and turned to face the back wall again. "I'm...not sure about anything I remember, right now. It keeps...getting jumbled. I'll-I'll think one thing happened, but then I remember it differently, a-and I think maybe I'm getting TV shows mixed in, too. Heh, guess it really does rot your brain." He gave a humorless chuckle, then quickly stopped and covered his mouth with one hand.
Goldie took a step toward him, raising a hand. "What's wrong?"
"I...They keep sedating me when I laugh," Junior muttered, squinting at the wall a little. "It's...really annoying."
Flashing a sympathetic smile, Goldie dropped her hand. "I'll bet," she said. "Considering how much you laugh."
Junior snorted and ducked his head, grinning. "It's like a prank gone wrong," he muttered.
"What?"
"Itching powder," he said impatiently. "It-It's like I've got itching powder lite in my blood. And I can't scratch at it and there's nothin' I can do to get my veins to stop itching!" He stomped a foot, hands forming claws. "GAH!"
Goldie recoiled and he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning to face her, Junior covered his face with one hand. "I'm sorry. I...I just...it's so frustrating."
"It's okay, babe. You'll be okay."
"I miss you, Goldie," he murmured softly, leaning back to rest his head against the wall. "And...god, I really hate sleeping alone."
"You can come home as soon as you're better," Goldie promised. "And then you won't have to."
Dropping his head back down to face her, Junior asked, "You really mean that?"
Goldie smiled invitingly and Junior pushed himself away from the wall to slowly walk towards her. "I really mean it," she said.
Stopping in front of her, Junior swallowed and raised a trembling hand to gently brush his knuckles against her cheek before curling his fingers around the side of her head. "God I love you, Goldie," he whispered reverently, eyes shining as they darted over her features.
Smiling affectionately, Goldie leaned into his touch and murmured, "Love you too, babe."
Pressing lightly at the back of Goldie's head, Junior slowly encouraged her to tilt her head down as he leaned up, lips meeting halfway.
Her lips were soft and moist, and he could taste something minty and her lipstick...and that obscure brand of grape soda that they could only find at one out-of-the-way store, that Goldie always griped about getting, and claimed she only got for his sake, but he knew she secretly loved it too.
It was beautiful and perfect and everything he knew it would be.
Reluctantly parting to share breath, Junior murmured against Goldie's lips, "I'm so sorry, baby."
Eyebrows twisting in confusion, Goldie murmured back, "It's not your fault, babe. You'll get better and--"
"That's not what I'm apologizing for," Junior whispered.
Goldie started to ask what he was talking about, but didn't get a chance before his fist abruptly smashed into her face.
-----
[ETA of chapter the sixth: ...hopefully sooner than usual.]
Mullet-verse handbook/guide. (AKA "Are you as lost as I am?")
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Junior, Goldie, Booster/Beetle (mention), Pulsar (mention), Max, J'onn
Word Count: 4542
Rating: PG-13?
Author's Notes: Since the Boostle content in this will be minimal, I've decided to post it here in my own journal. New updates are linked to on boostle in the notes for stories that are actually Boostlecentric enough to be posted there.
Because it fits this whole story perfectly, I present links to the lyrics and the MP3 of "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. I highly recommend it. ^_^
(Decided to post this before the next chapter of "Redemption of Booster Gold," just because it's been too damn long and the next chapter's just not done yet. I'll still pimp this when I post that chapter, but in the mean time it's already up. So here. *waves vaguely* It's over thirteen pages, don't kill me for going slow!)
(LJ-cut quote is from "mef" on Wanderer.)
CHAPTERS: { Prologue }{ Chapter One }{ Chapter Two }{ Chapter Three }{ Chapter Four }{ Chapter Five }{ Chapter Six }{ Chapter Seven }{ Epilogue }
<-{ previous story: Legacies and Traditions } { next story: Little Boy Blue }->
Beta by lakidaa.
~5th Chapter
He won't understand it till he's older.
Most of the time Ted's just fine, but sometimes he has Good Days and Bad Days. Those are mostly fine, too, because he's had them all his life so he can deal.
Sometimes Ted has Very Bad Days, though.
They don't happen often, hardly ever, but when they do he stays in his room and B--Uncle Mike has to call in sick for him at work, then go stay in the bedroom with him. Junior can hear Uncle Mike through the door, talking quietly to Ted, assuring him of his worth, that people care about him, that maybe you should see a doctor, Ted, I'm worried about you, and it affects others, too, and think about Junior, what if he's got it too, see a doctor about it for his sake at least--it's not your fault, Ted, no it's okay, it's okay, god I'm sorry, it's okay, Ted, please....
And sometimes he can hear what sounds like Ted crying, and Uncle Mike sounding distressed, and it's all a little scary, so he pretends it doesn't happen. It works, because everyone else does, too. It doesn't happen, so there's nothing to talk about. If the next day Ted's eyes are red and he looks haggard, and Uncle Mike looks tired and upset...well, Junior just makes sure to hug them, because even if nothing's wrong, hugs can't hurt.
And he makes sure there's food, because food makes everything better, as far as he's concerned.
And it might be a Bad Day for Ted, but it'll get better and he'll be just fine again....
He's still young when the poker craze hits. Suddenly there are cards and chips and TV shows and competitions all over. (Looking back, he'll remember Uncle Mike acting tense, but at the time he didn't notice.)
He's halfway through his fourth game with some friends when a hand lands on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees his d--Uncle Mike.
"We need to talk," Uncle Mike says quietly.
Junior hesitates, because he's got a king and a queen and a ten and so far no one's noticed him counting cards and...and...but the hand squeezes his shoulder and he reluctantly leaves the table.
They go into another room, and Uncle Mike's hand is still on his shoulder, and he's not looking at Junior but there's something about his expression....
"I...I don't think it's a good idea for you to be playing poker," Uncle Mike finally says, meeting his eyes.
"But--"
"I'm serious."
"But I'm up twenty bucks!" he whispers urgently.
"And what are you down?"
"Just five."
"Then you'll end on a high note."
"But--"
Uncle Mike squeezes his shoulder again, then drops to one knee so they're level, his other hand coming to rest on Junior's other shoulder. "Son, I really mean it. Okay? No poker. Not for money, not for chips, not even for candy. Maybe for fun, but please, no gambling." The look on his face is serious, and guilty, and a little ashamed, and just a tiny bit scared. "No gambling on anything. I need you to promise."
His expression reminds Junior a little of the time Uncle Mike got mad about something, he doesn't remember what, and accidentally backhanded him because he didn't know Junior was behind him. He looks like he's hurt Junior without meaning to, and it doesn't make any sense.... "I--"
"Promise," Uncle Mike whispers, eyes wide and hands firm on his shoulders.
Bewildered, Junior promises, and Uncle Mike pulls him into a hug, holding him tight like he's afraid if he doesn't hold him tight enough Junior's going to break away and run off to bet on horses and dogs and football games while gambling his way through Las Vegas with a fake ID. Uncle Mike mutters something that could be an apology or a thank you, and Junior just hugs him back.
"Remember," Uncle Mike repeats before he leaves. "No gambling."
Junior nods. "No gambling."
He won't understand it till he's older.
Why when he went back to the poker game to watch, he made little bets with himself in his head.
Why sometimes he has Good Days and Bad Days, though they're never as drastic as Ted's, and he's never yet had a Very Bad Day.
He won't understand it till he's older.
...Now he's older, and it feels like he's having a Very Bad Day.
---------------
"You can find his brain okay, right, J'onny?"
Sitting cross-legged on top of the plateau again, J'onn frowned. "Don't call me that."
"Sorry," Goldie said blithely, sitting across from him. "He was just going to take a nap when I left."
"I'll find him." With that, J'onn closed his eyes and went still. Fidgeting, Goldie bit her lip to keep from interrupting. After a few moments, J'onn's brow furrowed and his frown deepened. "I've found him. His thoughts are...erratic."
"Wet dream?"
J'onn grimaced. "Erratic, not ero--"
"I know, I know, sorry." Goldie waved her hands. "Habit."
"He's awake," J'onn continued. "But...there is a strangeness to his mind. Like he's seeing things that aren't there, remembering things that didn't happen...what is a very bad day? There is special significance to it, but his mind keeps shying away from solid thoughts."
"What did you say?" Goldie asked, eyebrows rising.
"'Very bad day'," J'onn repeated. "What meaning does it hold for Junior?"
Goldie grimaced. "Very Bad Days are what Mr. K sometimes has," she said slowly and reluctantly. "They're...well, I guess it's when his...I dunno, his brain chemistry just has a full on freak-out. They don't really talk about it much." She shrugged uncomfortably and pulled a knee up to her chest, resting a forearm on it as she stared at the ground. "Junior sometimes has little freak-outs, but nothing like Mr. K."
"Hm, I had on occasion suspected--" J'onn broke off with a gasp, hand flying to his forehead.
"J'onn?" Goldie sat up, reaching for him.
J'onn gritted his teeth. "Something...is influencing his mind. Showing him...horrible destruction! A Justice League gone mad. I'm trying to make him see reason, but he won't listen. Plans...what plans?" Eyes flying open, the glowing orange narrowed at Goldie. "What plans?"
Recoiling, Goldie's eyes widened. "What plans?" she asked breathlessly. "J'onn, what plans was he thinking about?"
"Plans for the destruction of the Justice League," J'onn growled.
"Not destroy," Goldie whispered, covering her mouth with one hand as her expression grew horrified. "Just...stop. If anything happened. Mind control, stolen powers, things like that. It's happened before!" Her eyes pleaded for J'onn to understand. "It started with Max. Max...he was scared of what he might become! What he already had become. ...Junior promised never to let that happen. So he came up with plans, ways to stop Max if he ever...became like that again. ...And he just kept going."
Goldie shifted, hand sliding up to cover her eyes. "You have to understand," she murmured. "He didn't do it out of fear. He didn't do any of it out of fear. He did it out of...love, I guess. He didn't want his friends to have to go through what their predecessors did. Hell, Kon'd already gone nuts before Junior even met him. D'you know how much that messed the guy up? He beat the crap outta his friends and couldn't stop himself! ...Junior didn't want that to happen again. To any of them." She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "So he came up with the contingency plans."
"Batman had contingency plans, too," J'onn pointed out with quiet anger, arms crossed over his chest.
Goldie winced. "I know. Junior knows too. But...." She shook her head and lifted her eyes to meet his. "You don't understand, it's different."
"How?"
"Batman wrote everything down. Junior...look, I've seen his files. They're gibberish! I couldn't make sense of most of what he had written, and I probably know better than just about anyone how his twisted little brain works."
"Codes can be broken."
"It's not a code!" Goldie exclaimed, throwing her arms out. "It's like specialized shorthand or something. Half of it's in Esperanto or Yiddish, and what's in English is just vague references to things only Junior gets. He used to write his class notes like that, drove me nuts. The teacher could yak on for twenty minutes about something and he'd come up with 'spoon, hexagon, shalom'! Junior is the only one who understands it."
J'onn's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "So the only way to make use of those plans--"
"Is to get Junior to use them himself," Goldie finished, reaching up to tap her comm. "OMAX, need a trace on Blue."
"On it," came the instant reply. There was a brief pause before Max spoke again. "Looks like he's on the move."
"Where's he going?" Goldie asked urgently.
"Want me to ask?"
"No!" Goldie gasped.
"It's bad, isn't it?" Max said grimly. "Overlaying his coordinates and route on a map.... What the hell?"
Goldie stood up, flipping her visor down. "What is it?"
"It looks like he's heading for the warehouse."
"The w--Max, where's the KOPMEG currently stored?"
"In the warehou--Oh zombie Jesus, you can't be serious!"
"What is the Kopmeg?" J'onn asked, rising to his feet.
Goldie bit her lip, then glanced at him. "You remember how Junior's folks stopped the OMAC invasion way back when? The giant EMP...thing? The KOPMEG did that."
"And would have a similar effect on Max, I assume?"
Nodding, Goldie said, "It's one of the plans. I know about it too, just in case Junior can't use it."
"One of the plans?" J'onn asked.
"Well c'mon, Max is smart." Goldie shrugged. "He knows about it, he knows what EMPs do to him. He could go hang out in a hospital or something so we couldn't use it without knocking out life support for a few dozen people. The KOPMEG can only be used if Max is in a place that--"
"Can withstand an electro-magnetic pulse equivalent in strength to a fifty-megaton nuclear blast," Max interrupted sourly.
"Right," Goldie agreed.
J'onn frowned. "What?"
"Oh right, you can't hear him." Goldie pointed to her comm. "Max said it's like a fifty-megaton nuclear blast."
"Which may not occur to Junior in this state," J'onn said grimly.
Goldie winced. "Crap, you're right. Max, it looks like Junior's going after the Justice League. Starting with you."
"My super isn't going to like that."
"Max!"
"Relax," he sighed impatiently. "Do you want me to put out a general alert to the League?"
Goldie glanced at J'onn, then nodded reluctantly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Warn them of a possible threat that knows their weaknesses. We're going after him."
"On it," Max replied. "Good luck. OMAX out."
"Well," Goldie said to J'onn, rising a few feet in the air. "Let's go knock some sense into my partner."
---------------
He's standing in the doorway of his room, quest for a glass of water forgotten as he stares at his parents in the living room.
There's a song playing on the TV and Booster's grinning and tugging Ted to his feet, despite his protests. Ted is chuckling as he gives in, looking at Booster with affectionate exasperation. Then they're dancing a silly parody of a slow dance, quietly laughing together.
And all of a sudden he thinks yes. That. He wants that. Some day he wants someone he can laugh with and dance to commercials with. Someone he can be silly with, and--
--that's not what happened at all. Uncle Mike tripped getting up from the couch and Dad caught him.
And it was funny because for a moment it looked like they were dancing. That's it.
Acoustium, actinium, aluminum, amazonium, americium, arrrrgentum? No, that's silver. Keep going. Argon, arsenic, astatine, aur--gold. Skip it, keep going. Barium, berkelium, beryllium, bismuth, bohrium, buh-buh--rhymes with moron. Boron! Bromine, cadmus--no, cadmium. Keep going. Calcium--does a body good. Focus! Californium, carbon, cerium, cesium, chlorine, chromium, cobalt, copper...cuprum? Same thing. Keep going. Curium, darmstadtium, dilithium, d--Wait, that's...dilithium is from Star Trek. Crap! Focus, keep going. Dub...dubnium! Dysprosium, einsteinium, erbium, eternium, europium, fermium, ferrum...no, that's iron. Isn't it? Iron, Fe. Ferrum. Right. I...focus. Keep going. Keep...focus....
When Dr. not-Mengele asked him about his outburst during Max's visit, Junior blamed the medication he'd been given. He insisted he'd been better before the medication, that the medication was in fact making him worse.
Dr. not-Mengele introduced him to a doctor whose name wasn't Kevorkian, who would be in charge of his medication from then on.
When he was given the choice of a needle or a pill, Junior confessed to an extreme phobia of needles. So extreme, in fact, that he sometimes screamed uncontrollably when they got too close to him. Really.
If either Dr. not-Mengele or Dr. not-Kevorkian thought it suspicious that he didn't meet their eyes while talking, or that they had never heard of his phobia before, they didn't say anything.
Junior got a pill and, after they checked to make sure he'd swallowed it, was sent back to his padded white room.
He vomited and smashed the pill into his padded white floor.
The pill was white and his vomit was clear (except for the tiny carroty bits that were actually stomach pieces, thank you high school biology class), so he didn't get the satisfaction of marring his room's whiteness.
After that they gave him an injection. As promised, he screamed.
Purple haze! All in my brain. Something something dahdah the same. Something something, don' know why. 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky! Dah nah nah nah! Something....
Hm hm hm hm, see you laughing in the purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain....
It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater! (One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater.) Uh, we wear short shorts! Flyin' purple people eater. Sure looks strange to me. (One eye!)
Purple purple purple purple.
Violet, indigo, uh...magenta, mauve...lilac? Eggplant! Purple purple purple.
Raisins, grapes, those snails that make purple dye...Pulsar. Mmm--In costume! Pulsar in costume. Ralph! Huntress. Um, ultraviolet, amethyst, alkaline methyl violet, lavender, plum, eggplant, bruises, Purple Heart, pimpmobile, Leela's hair, that sewer guy in The Tick, velvet, Amazon healing beam....
Purplepurplepurplepurpleeggplant!
On Thursday, Junior's padded white room was purple.
He was the only one who noticed, and during that day's session with Dr. not-Mengele he said he thought he was finally getting the hang of Thursdays.
Junior laughed until he was sedated and returned to his room.
It was white again.
He's telling them bull stories, and the thought makes him laugh and think of gentle Ferdinand. But he can't tell them why he laughed because then they'll suspect his lies, half-truths, and mis...something. Lies, half-truths, and mis-something. How does the quote go?
Lies, half-truths, and bull stories.
During one of his sessions with Dr. not-Mengele, he managed to steal a pen before he was returned to his padded white room. He wrote calculations on the padded white walls until he passed out from sleep deprivation.
He hated sleeping in the padded white room. The light never changed, so it was hard anyway. But he felt...vulnerable when he was asleep. Exposed. Like he was being observed without any knowledge of it.
The passage of days was difficult to determine, but when he had a dream that Dr. not-Mengele and Dr. not-Kevorkian drilled a hole in his head to drain out his grey matter...he stayed awake for what he thought was probably two days before an injection of whatever sedative they were giving him knocked him out.
He didn't dream then, and he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
"Daaad. Feel gross."
"Well you're sick, kiddo. I'd be worried if you liked it."
"It sucks," Junior grouses, and Ted chuckles.
"Yeah, what were you thinking, getting sick?" he teases.
Junior grimaces and shifts with weak restlessness. "Why'm I sweaty? M'not doin' anything."
"Not true, kiddo," Ted corrects, adopting his "learn ya something" tone of voice. "Your body's hard at work fighting...whatever it is you have. That's a heck of a workout. And you've got a fever because viruses don't like to be hot, so your body's turning up the heat to burn 'em out." He brushes Junior's hair back from his sweaty forehead and places a blissfully cool cloth on it. "So now you're sweating out the impurities."
"Like fractional distillation?" Junior asks sleepily, leaning into his dad's touch.
"You got it."
"Cool," he says, grinning weakly.
"Yeah," Ted murmurs, gently ruffling his hair. "So hang in there, kiddo. You'll get through this just fine."
One day was spent in a frenzy of activity. Junior, literally at times, bounced off the walls of his padded white room. Occasionally he muttered something that sounded like "Moe, Larry, cheese."
He didn't stop moving until he was dripping with sweat, on his hands and knees in the middle of the padded white floor as he caught his breath. Swiping a shaky hand across his sweaty forehead, he stared at it for a moment. Giving his hand a curious sniff, Junior tentatively jabbed his tongue at the moisture.
Spitting to the side, Junior dropped his hand to the floor again and grinned triumphantly. Then he sat back on his heels and stripped off his white shirt to quickly wipe the sweat from the top half of his body. Once he was dryer, he tossed the shirt aside and stripped off his pants to repeat the process with the bottom half of his body.
When he was done, Junior threw the pants over with his shirt and flopped onto his back on a part of the floor that was mostly sweat-free.
His skin felt a little tacky, but he had gotten most of the sweat off before it had a chance to soak back in.
His triumphant grin remained in place as he waited for his mind to clear.
They're still young and inexperienced. Blue Boy and Golden Girl, the younger team Blue and Gold!
They don't see the structural damage until the building's already falling down around them and Goldie knocks him to the ground, forcefield coming up to cover them both. Cringing as the world crumbles and caves in and explodes around them, shaking them despite the forcefield, they cling to each other until it's all over but for the dust to settle.
Breathing heavy, they glance out at the whirling clouds of dust dancing through debris. There's a chunk of concrete leaning against the forcefield over Goldie's shoulder.
Then they look at each other. Goldie's laying completely on top of him and their legs are tangled together. After a moment, Blue slowly, slowly leans up...
...and licks Goldie's nose.
Goldie stares at him in shock for a second, then recoils with a squeal of disgust. He can't stop laughing the whole time she's indignantly smacking his shoulder and calling him names--
--the song, but it's got a good beat for dancing. The dance floor is crowded and hot and the smell of sweat lingers in the air.
But Goldie's with him, laughing as they dance together. He's doing what he remembers of the dances in old Charlie Brown cartoons and Goldie looks like she can't decide between the Time Warp and the Electric Slide. They look completely ridiculous, and they've gotten a few weird looks, and the other dancers are giving them some space.
They're having a blast.
Then Goldie has his hands in hers and they're pulling in, then tugging apart. Spinning in circles and wiggling and laughing the whole time and Goldie is--
--hurt. Goldie's hurt and he has to protect her from....
God, they've gone nuts. He has to stop them, has to find who's pulling the strings.
Max. It's--It can't be. He promised. He promised!
Have to stop them before anyone else gets hurt. Plans. The plans. He has to...No! No, it's...it's wrong. It's all wrong. Something's....
Don't want to think about this....
So much power...so much potential for destruction...it's always a joke, "glad they're on our side," and now they're not. And he has to stop Max to stop them. But first he has to get through them.
Everyone has weaknesses. He has to use theirs to stop them, take them down. He's made promises he intends to keep.
No choice...no choice....
This isn't real, Junior. None of this is real. It's all in your--
Get out of my head!!
Junior--
Lalala, not listening, not listening, goawaygoawaygoaway, lalala, I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves and this is how it goes, dum dum dum! I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY'S NERVES! EV--
--freefall, wind whipping at what little of his face is exposed, and he can see every second of the ground rushing to meet him because of his goggles.
"Howdy, folks, this is your friendly neighborhood Blue Beetle with an important announcement that I can't fly! Anyone who wants to give me a hand with that, I'm at three thousand feet and falling. Thank you, and have a nice day."
It's a shame freefall ends in a messy splat if someone doesn't catch you--
--sneaks out with the flight ring, and it's not stealing because he'll give it right back when he's done. It's just borrowing....
Doesn't matter if it was, he'd do it anyway. He loves to fly.
The ring is on his finger and he shoots up so fast tears sting in his eyes from the wind. He doesn't care, though, because he's there. Above the clouds, where the world is a different place and the sky ruffles his hair and embraces him in a giant hug so he flings his arms wide to hug back.
He's Peter Pan crowing triumphant. He's Icarus daring the sun to burn him. He is a leaf on the wind....
Watch how he soars.
It's complete freedom of movement. Essence of freedom. The only thing he knows that comes even close is swimming, but then the water presses in and air is iffy. Here...this is air. Pure and beautiful and magnificent.
Nothing at all like it. Not when he jumps from Bug's hatch and lets himself fall until the skywire clutched firmly in hand abruptly stops him. Not sex, when he's riding the rush of endorphins and human contact. Not falling from a plane until a teammate catches him...but then they soar together and it's kind of amazing like that. Flying on his own he can choose the direction. Flying with someone else...he's held by and against another body and they're sharing this wonderful experience--
No! No, not this. Anything else. Not this, please. Not this.
--but that's all wrong. He's never--
NO! God, please. Not this, don't take this. Don't take the sky. I need that! Please, oh god, please, don't, don't, not this, nonononononono. Please! I can't...I can't...no....
--flown before. He's got a license for aircrafts, but it's not the same as--
Gray Face take you, don't do this! Anything! Anything at all, take anything, not this! PLEASE! Please...take anything else...I'll give you anything...just not this...don't take this....
...I need the air to breathe....
"You okay, hon?"
Arms wrapped around himself, Junior lifted his head to glance over his shoulder at Goldie, hair falling in his face. "They gave me anti-depressants!" he hissed, slowly and quietly.
When Goldie didn't reply, he straightened and turned around, gesturing randomly. "I-I mean...I mean, how hard is it to, like, check my medical records? Huh? You gave 'em access, right? They should've been able to pull 'em. What part of 'don't give patient anti-depressants, may trigger mania or hypomania' is so difficult to understand?!"
"Is that what happened with Max?" Goldie asked gently.
Breathing heavy, Junior paused, cocking his head as his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. "He, uh...told you about that, huh?"
Giving a smile that was more of a grimace, Goldie nodded. "He's really worried about you. We all are. Some days you act perfectly sane, and then other days you act like a goddamn psycho and it's just...." She shook her head. "Do you even remember what you did?"
"I...." Junior took a deep breath and turned to face the back wall again. "I'm...not sure about anything I remember, right now. It keeps...getting jumbled. I'll-I'll think one thing happened, but then I remember it differently, a-and I think maybe I'm getting TV shows mixed in, too. Heh, guess it really does rot your brain." He gave a humorless chuckle, then quickly stopped and covered his mouth with one hand.
Goldie took a step toward him, raising a hand. "What's wrong?"
"I...They keep sedating me when I laugh," Junior muttered, squinting at the wall a little. "It's...really annoying."
Flashing a sympathetic smile, Goldie dropped her hand. "I'll bet," she said. "Considering how much you laugh."
Junior snorted and ducked his head, grinning. "It's like a prank gone wrong," he muttered.
"What?"
"Itching powder," he said impatiently. "It-It's like I've got itching powder lite in my blood. And I can't scratch at it and there's nothin' I can do to get my veins to stop itching!" He stomped a foot, hands forming claws. "GAH!"
Goldie recoiled and he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning to face her, Junior covered his face with one hand. "I'm sorry. I...I just...it's so frustrating."
"It's okay, babe. You'll be okay."
"I miss you, Goldie," he murmured softly, leaning back to rest his head against the wall. "And...god, I really hate sleeping alone."
"You can come home as soon as you're better," Goldie promised. "And then you won't have to."
Dropping his head back down to face her, Junior asked, "You really mean that?"
Goldie smiled invitingly and Junior pushed himself away from the wall to slowly walk towards her. "I really mean it," she said.
Stopping in front of her, Junior swallowed and raised a trembling hand to gently brush his knuckles against her cheek before curling his fingers around the side of her head. "God I love you, Goldie," he whispered reverently, eyes shining as they darted over her features.
Smiling affectionately, Goldie leaned into his touch and murmured, "Love you too, babe."
Pressing lightly at the back of Goldie's head, Junior slowly encouraged her to tilt her head down as he leaned up, lips meeting halfway.
Her lips were soft and moist, and he could taste something minty and her lipstick...and that obscure brand of grape soda that they could only find at one out-of-the-way store, that Goldie always griped about getting, and claimed she only got for his sake, but he knew she secretly loved it too.
It was beautiful and perfect and everything he knew it would be.
Reluctantly parting to share breath, Junior murmured against Goldie's lips, "I'm so sorry, baby."
Eyebrows twisting in confusion, Goldie murmured back, "It's not your fault, babe. You'll get better and--"
"That's not what I'm apologizing for," Junior whispered.
Goldie started to ask what he was talking about, but didn't get a chance before his fist abruptly smashed into her face.
-----
[ETA of chapter the sixth: ...hopefully sooner than usual.]
Mullet-verse handbook/guide. (AKA "Are you as lost as I am?")