callededie

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

There’s a joke there, to be made when Edie didn’t look a day over thirty, but the tone in his voice told him that it wasn’t the time. He could read at least that much. “Neither did I, at first.” He was a private man, back then, not used to letting people in because of heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak. But the team helped, the way they understood helped, and it was just a matter of practice. Edie needed to see that. “You love them. Good place to start as any. If you can’t, show them that you do—that’s what I did.”

       edie had spent twenty five years here ,      yet he had never directly expressed love. not verbally, anyway. he had shown them, all of them, that in his own way. to him it was something that had to be shown. he nods, if only slightly.  ‘  i love all of you, damien.  ’  his thoughts had been correct, saying it didn’t feel right. well, it had been worth a shot. he appreciated the advice, but if anything was going to be done it would be in his own way: show, not tell. ‘ i’ll think about it. ’ he didn’t know he wouldn’t have time to.

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

Damien almost forgot that Edie wasn’t from—well, Earth. The critical eye he’d held so long ago faded into what he could almost say was a bad dream he was trying to make up for. “It makes life count, I guess. How fast it is,” he continued, looking wistfully at the team. “Take it from an old man, say something. You’ll go through life meeting people you love and lose, and you need to say it. For them. For yourself.”

        ‘  every moment ,  ’      he observes. and they did. each moment with the team, no matter how fleeting, counted. edie was reminded how fleeting they were when he looked and saw the faces that had changed so much while he had been there, while he had remained mostly the same. damien had been twenty when edie had first met him, and while he didn’t look like the old man he claimed to be, edie could not forget that he looked older. they all did.  ‘  i’m much older than you, damien,  ’  he says, teasing slightly though perhaps the tone isn’t quite right.  ‘  i don’t know what i would say.  ’

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

There’s a softness to Damien’s chest as Edie replied to him, his eyes flickering briefly to Carlos, currently laughing with Beth about some godawful story they’re probably sharing right about now. “Is it anything like me and Carlos?” They were soldiers, people who were defined by directives and order, of course, both of them—maybe they just understood each other than Damien would ever know. He didn’t know. He just wanted them to be happy. “He had to take me to the hospital first time he saw me Finally.asked him out a few months after. Trust me, time’s not an issue, Eeds. Just… feelings.”

        he hummed slightly ,      thinking.  he understood what damien and carlos were, but he did not know what they were like. maybe he and and eve were like them, or maybe they were something different. he’s unsure, so he focused on the second part of what damien says.  ‘  time is different here, damien. you all move through life very quickly.  ’

[callededie]

retiredeve·:

eve’s head quirks to the side at his blue tongue. it was fascinating to her, the thought of consuming something that could change your appearance. it was kind of fun, the thought of turning pink insides blue. blue was her favorite color, after all. “forever?” she asks, her voice is curious and unaccusing. maybe years ago she would have taken the marker as a threat, a way for a possible adversary to disadvantage her by making her distinct. but she’d started to shed her defensive thinking and instead take things to be what they were: harmless. 

to eve, the major distinction between herself and edie was the way they were raised. from the little she knew of his past, he was raised like any other person in his culture. it may have been a culture unlike earth, but he was still brought up with a set of values and practices that were established and traditional. she figured if he was being judged by his own society’s standards he would be deemed normal. but that was not the case for eve. she was the only surviving member of a program that raised twenty four girls to be different. and she was the most different, and therefor most successful in the program and least successful at achieving humanity. 

she sits down on her couch, gesturing for him to join her, as she takes another sip of the slusheee, “that does not sounds appealing to me either. i cannot fathom pretending to hate someone and then getting together with them. i have trouble even showing people i like them when i mean to. i don’t think i could perform hate when i actually like someone.” she frowned, “as for the fish, humans can see themselves in anything. perhaps that it why they see you as human too even though you are not. you sort of look like one and speak like one, and that is enough to them.” 

      he shakes his head .      '  not forever, but for a time.  ’  he had been worried the first time he had one, thinking he had made some mistake. he stood out enough as it was, without blue teeth and tongue. eventually though, it went away. he reached the same conclusion that she had: harmless. still, it was interesting to him that humans had food that changed them, even if only for a small period of time. 

        no matter how they saw each other, more or less human than then themselves, it would be impossible to deny that they had an ability to understand each other. neither exactly fit well with humanity but, at least in edie’s case, found it possible to let down their persona when they were alone. eve had always been willing to explain things she understood better to him, while they could commiserate together over the things the rest did that did not make sense. she never backed away when he became more focused, and let practiced expressions fall to the wayside. that was the edie that made others nervous, the emotionless alien, but he did not remember her ever seeming nervous or off put around him.

        ‘  i could do it by accident,  ’  he thinks out loud. picking the wrong expression, saying the wrong thing ... he had done it before actually. not in a romantic setting, but certainly he had given people the wrong impression over the years.  ‘  showing feelings is difficult, lots of room for error. ... not on purpose though.  ’  he takes a seat next to her on the couch, and frowns back at her.  ‘  really anything. i’ve seen two different movies about a green monster.  ’  head tilts slightly when she suggests that’s why they like him.  ‘  i always thought that was why i bothered them. so close, but not exactly right.  maybe it’s both.  ’

[callededie]

      a hero should be someone with heart ,      edie had always been just a soldier. at least until recently. for years, decades, edie had been envious of the way will connected with others, and pilfered the way he acted to try and get people to connect with him. he had wanted so desperately to be human, and will rivkin was so perfectly human; he became edie’s blueprint, his guidelines. it was true before the team was disbanded, and after all those years in isolation, it was likely even more so when they were reinstated. when will says hello his smile is matched with an almost identical one from edie, faint and polite. if that’s what will believes fits the moment, then he will follow his lead.

        once the smile fades, edie’s face returns to it’s more expressionless standard; his focus on listening to what will has to say rather than keeping up appearances. he nods when will thanks him, but he finds the gesture unnecessary. they all helped people.  ‘  you do not have to thank me, will,  ’  he manages to stay, but stops when the other continues. he takes in the words carefully. there’s a beat, a pause while edie thinks of what he is supposed to do.  an awkward, bigger smile is placed on his features.  ‘  i think i am supposed to laugh, will. this is funny.  ’

        ‘  you know i have struggled with appearing human  ?  ’  he asks. edie had never spoken with will directly about it, but he was sure most people noticed. it had been something he was so self conscious about for his whole time on earth.  ‘  my home ... we communicated differently. verbal still, but we did not have the somatic component that is present on earth.  ’  he doesn’t speak about home often, and there’s a quiet sadness in his tone.  ‘  you could just show someone how you felt. it was more efficient.  ’

       ‘  well i tried to learn, to express better, so people would be less uncomfortable around me. i saw the way people liked you so much . . .  ’  a feeling of embarrassment rises inside of him as he comes so close to admitting the truth, that he had spent the last two decades on earth basing all of his mannerisms on the other.  ‘  i am not perfect, and i spent those years trying to be you, will.  ’

WHEN & WHERE: brunch at valentine residence; september 4th, 2004 WHO: edie ( @callededie​ ) 

one would think that, with arthur klein gone and the portal closed, the exemplar’s old forerunner would find himself now almost entirely at ease. while not entirely wrong, the burdens seemed to be turning more bearable each passing day. it still ached – the could have’s and what if’s, each like a silent dagger grazing him unexpectedly. he doubted those feelings would ever go away – the guilt and the regret, mainly. 

 yeah, regret and guilt were bitter things. and they were there, even now when they’d earned their ending and overcome the hardships. they were there when will looked at edie. edward turner, the golden man. edie, with stardust in himself and wisdom one couldn’t even fathom ( even if he didn’t realize it ). in all honesty, will kept far too many thoughts and feelings about edie to himself. the cover-up used was that he didn’t want to cause turmoil within the team by voicing them, but that was a lie. the truth was that will felt, in equal parts, envious of and intimidated by edie. mission after mission, with his diligence and level-headedness, proved him to be a hero in all senses. will feared edie because he saw it: edie had the makings of a hero in himself from the beginning, whereas will, a mere mortal from butt-fuck nowhere, had to earn it. 

  his hands ever so shaky as he finally approached edie, a clear intention driving him for the first time in ages. will didn’t want to see a ghost when he looked at edie, not anymore. the world was wide enough for the both of them – it was just a shame it’d taken him years to own up to it. 

  “hey, edie–” will began, smiling faintly and politely at the other. inside him felt like a battle, with him simultaneously grasping for the appropriate words and gathering the courage to express them– “i- i don’t think i ever thanked you for everything you did for the team. i know that was always the goal, but you were always great out there.”

   “i think i haven’t been 100% truthful with you these past years–” a sigh– “you know, during the earlier missions, i would just see you and i’d feel so… so afraid and apprehensive over the team, because no matter what happened, you seemed to have everything under control. you were amazing, you were perfect… and the team didn’t need someone charming like captain kick. who they deserved was someone perfect… someone like you.”  

[callededie]

early evening, september 4th, 2004

ten months. 

edie sighed, a learned mannerism to show he was tired. he’s mastered the idea of it well enough that now it happens without it being for the benefit of anyone else; a quiet expression for a private moment. he was more tired now that he was working less, something inside of him that was rejuvenated by doing what he felt he was meant to. it was the sitting, the waiting, that wore him down. he had lasted fifteen years of it before, maybe he would be able to do it again. yet, there was something different this time. before, it had felt like he was waiting for something. now he was just waiting. his face remains still at the thought. if he was as human as he had once wished to be, he might have frowned. instead he just thinks that he is uneasy with the feeling, and that is enough.

the being known on earth as edward turner was given credit for a large number of things, but his ability to adapt was not one he often got commendations for. perhaps that was because the humans so often forgot that he was on a different time scale than them. twenty five years was not that long for him, but he had done his best in that time. however, there were a number of things he had learned ( some more recently than others ) during that time, beyond which expressions meant what and how certain phrases worked.

in the past ten months, for example, he had learned two very important things. the first he had learned that night, as he watched the train skid out over the ice: that following orders was not all it took to be a hero. people on igruvad had followed orders, those who boarded the train had followed orders… he had followed orders when he almost killed everyone who had. there was a balance to be found, a way to not be disruptive but knowing when a call needed to be made outside of what was instructed. secondly, and this was something that had come more gradually over the months following, that his want to be a human was not really what he had ever needed.

what he had needed was a home, somewhere he felt like he belonged.

imagine you are young, just coming into adulthood, and you have watched your world crumble around you as you are supposed to enter it. not only do you lose your family, but anyone you had ever known. you lose those you had never known too. and so you leave. you make an escape and for a time you are on your own, with hardly any contact with another living thing. then you hear it, a call for help. they don’t know that’s what they’re sending you, but you can tell because you’ve heard it before. that is how your world must have sounded before the end. you arrive, admittedly late but they still need you, and they take you in. they adopt you as one of theirs. they are the first people besides your own that you have encountered and you are so desperate for a place where you are not the last one left, that you believe you must become one of them.

it was an understandable confusion, but now it was righted. edie had figured out that, while he was grateful for humanity and their giving him purpose for this time, there was no reason for him to feel like he needed to be one of them. they would let him belong as he was, they had. it was in the moments that he tried too much to be one of them that he stood out the most.

still, he was unsure earth was where he was meant to fit, even if it would let him. the waiting did not feel as purposeful as it had before, even if it was less isolationist than it had been. instead it was empty, his meaning lost, or at least no longer with him. where it had gone was unclear. the moments with the team were good, times when the bureau called him back into action were also good, but he did not feel as tied to earth as he once had. he was restless. he needed to do something more. 

he collapsed on the couch in his home after returning from the brunch, letting his head tip over the back slightly to stretch his neck. eyes shut for a moment, allowing himself to rest. it only takes a moment for them to flick open again, prompted by a muffled beeping from the door to the garage. it’s surreal for a moment, just the noise itself making him want to jump up from the couch but also holding him down to it, unable to move. this could be his answer, but if he entered that room he would be making a choice he could not take back.

it was the right thing to do.

the door is pushed open, and his gaze falls to the sleek looking metal box on a wooden table at the far left side. he ignores the rest of the contents of the garage, containing, most notably, the ship that had brought him here twenty five years ago; he had fixed it up in retirement, something to do to keep him busy and something to do in case … well in case this happened. the screen glowed a soft blue, blinking in time with the beeps coming from its speaker. edie moves towards it, hand hovering above it. there’s a small second of hesitation, but then he places it down on top of the box. the blinking stops, the pale light growing steady and slightly brighter. he listens. the transmission is at once both unfamiliar and exactly what he was hoping to hear.

earth would be okay on its own now. somewhere else needed him.

morning, september 5th, 2004

he stays up most of the night. he makes the final adjustments to his old ship. he does all the things the boy who left igruvad had to do to move on. he comes to the conclusion that he cannot take edward turner with him. edward turner belonged to earth, and would remain here even if he wasn’t. maybe he could come back and visit him. for now though, edward turner would stay on earth as a series of objects delivered carefully, by hand, to each one of the exemplars who remained. and one who didn’t.

waiting in her parking space at the bureau when she arrives on monday morning is a box addressed to elizabeth mitchell. inside is a carefully folded uniform, to be kept by the bureau itself, along with a butterfly keychain, wrapped carefully, and a 7/11 bag containing 3 snickers bars with a piece of tape marking them for tango.

in front of the building where laura smith rehabilitates the creatures that had previously been confined, another box waited, addressed to her. this one’s contents included a box of tea, several squares of bubble wrap, and a new pair of wool socks.

in his mailbox in the faculty lounge of the school he taught at, a manilla folder waits for will rivkin, containing the entirety of edie’s keychain collection, as amassed during their retirement, sans the butterfly that had been gifted to beth.

on the steps of the dance studio a shoebox marked for zia dewan, containing two snowglobes, one depicting the new york skyline, the other a dancer.

on the balcony of damien valentine’s apartment waited a folded electric blanket, one of edie’s favorite possessions: a quiet thank you for damien’s care of him after the bureau was attacked.

outside her front door, evelynn ambrose will find a trio of pothos plants that edie had been caring for during the fifteen years the exemplars were disbanded, and another blue slushee.

if anyone were to look, they might notice a bit of upturned dirt next to adelaide venture’s grave. buried beside her now was a long expired ( he had made sure it would be of no danger to anyone ) grenade of igruvadan design that had been part of the supplies on his ship.

it was a promise to each of them. i am not gone.

but earth would be okay on its own. somewhere else needed him now.

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

Damien needed his scotch—this could have been a new form of mental exercise, and he really didn’t more of those. The slushees, though, were a nice touch. He was already doing stuff that lovers did, and maybe this was a cruel trick, or that Eve was basically doing the unrequited love plot line from Degrassi. “I’m trying to ask if you have feelings for Eve,” he replied, wishing he had some secret telepathy power so he could beam this directly into Edie’s brain. “You know—some not-friend, romcom, over the pants, explicit feelings?”

That could have done it. He couldn’t be more straightforward than that.

         '  i have feelings for all of you, damien ,  ’       he answers, before he hears the second half of damien’s words.   oh.   he had seen a romcom recently.   that kind of feelings.   '  i’m ...  i’m not sure, damien. they become involved so quickly in those movies, and i have not known her for that long.  ’  given the time she was missing, and edie’s projected lifespan, he had only known eve for less than his equivalent of a human year.  ‘  but i care about her slightly differently than i care about you.  ’  he wished he could give that feeling to damien, let him identify it. language was such a fickle thing.  ‘  not less or more, just differently.  ’

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

His head wraps around the statement once, twice, thrice—nothing makes sense. Damien furrowed his brows trying to make it make sense and just clicked.  “The most my—best friend?” Looking at him, trying to read his face for some confirmation, he took a breath and sighed. Yeah, that still felt weird. “Just best friends, Edie, or you know, anything more than best friends? Like, uh, a partner? You know, a partner?” He looked at the man and gave him a small smile. ”This is worse than high school.”

        '  best friend .  ’      he nods, a curt almost militant thing, giving affirmation. it sounded right. partner, partner.  ‘  we work as partners, at the bureau sometimes.  ’  he puts on a smile, hoping he had answered the man’s questions.  ‘  did she tell you about the earthquake, damien ?  ’  maybe that’s why he had brought this up.  ‘  we helped with that, and then i visited her after with slushees. have you had the blue kind  ?  ’  he frowns again at his last comment.  ‘  i don’t see the comparison, damien.  ’

[callededie]

retiredeve·:

his expression is kind and curious, what she’d used to by now. it seemed he had two modes: work and socialization. when he was at work it was like he lost himself. all of his expressions faded away into a stoic stare. it was as beautiful as it was formidable. but by now eve had come to know this side, and thus, knew not to fear him. she took a sip through the straw, “it’s something synthetic. blue flavor. but i like it too.” 

she didn’t notice that he was restless, though. as good as eve had become at talking with other people, she still had trouble reading their faces. to her, edie should be happy. she considered him much like the humans, despite his insistence otherwise. and she assumed that the prospect of no longer having to work delighted him. she was glad to be unemployed. it allowed her to try new things without having to report back. although, she still found herself slipping back into old habits and describing jewelry purchases like intel hands offs.  

slowly but surely, she was getting the hang of this human thing. she thought he was too. laughing softly, “humans don’t make sense,” she said, “i think that’s part of getting to know them, just accepting that they do things that are backwards and illogical. especially when it comes to sex and romance. i’m not so sure about the fish, though, i haven’t seen any fish shows.” 

        the stoic stare, the lack of facial expression ,      it wasn’t actually a loss of self. in fact, it was a moment where he wasn’t thinking about which face to make to express what he needed. it’s with such a look on his face, seemingly blank, that he displays to her his tongue. blue in color, dyed such by the sips he had taken on the way over. then he closes his mouth, and once more gives her a smile.  ‘  it stains your insides, eve.   ’

      interesting that they both considered the other human, more than themselves. edie looked at her and saw someone who was born on earth, who seemed to understand them much better than he did, and saw a human. maybe she looked at him and saw someone who had grown up somewhere, someone who had become who they were without training, and saw the same thing. but no, he wasn’t happy to have no job. even with all that he head learned and accepted, there was still a guilt inside of him for surviving the collapse of his own home, though it was unclear how many he would have to save to remedy that. 

      ‘  they do not, eve,  ’  he agrees.  ‘  but i think you are right. knowing that is knowing them.  ’  he nods as confirmation, perhaps only to himself. humans were complicated, messy, and hard to understand. he had done his best, but even know some aspects alluded him.  ‘  they got together at the end, in the movie. i do not think i would want that. i still do not understand why, but maybe i should stop trying to. the fish wasn’t a real fish. it was drawn and spoke like it was a human.  ’

[callededie]

valentiincs·:

Ah, young love, so oblivious and heartwarming. Maybe he needed a shove in the right direction, though if he was going to be the one giving this advice, they were going to need… outside help for this. “Did you do—let me rephrase that,” Damien continued, rolling his eyes. “Eve, are you friends or, you know, more than friends?”

      he frowns in thought ,      for damien’s sake, to show he does not understand. he had tried more than friends before, when they were in their first retirement. he did not like it. the woman pointed out how different he was at any available moment, as if it was exciting to her. if that’s what it was like, then eve was certainly not that. she was a friend, a friend he was likely closer to than the rest  --  is that more than friends or is that the most friends ?  he felt that he was lacking specifics, but he tries his hypothesis.   ‘  she is the most my friend.  ’

[callededie]

retiredeve​:

in the past ten months she’d actually learned that smiling could hurt. it was never something she’d experienced before. but some nights, after a baseball game, she’d come home and find popcorn in her bra and have to massage at her aching cheekbones. it was a good hurt. 

she sees the slushees and her eyes widen, “ooh snack food! i’ve grown to really love ‘movie theater’ food,” she says, her gesturing quotations a little over the top. “sounds like a good tradition. humans are so talented at coming up with rituals. especially unhealthy ones.” 

she leads him into the front room and flicks off the tv, “i’ve also been watching a lot of television she admits. i like the trivia show jeapoardy best, although i find the act of answering with a question baffling. there is also this show with a blonde woman named paris that is fascinating. i tried emulating her vocal intonations at a farmer’s market recently. it was not well received.”

        the look she gives him makes him feel good ,       as if he had done the right thing. he thought perhaps, for a moment when he knocked, the he should not have come. he had not been invited, he could have asked first. edie did not do many things on impulse, but he had decided that he wanted to share this with her.  ‘  i still am unsure what flavor blue is, but i enjoy them.  ’

        the ten months that passed had been strange for edie. a waiting game between phone calls from the beaueu. completing an obligatory ppt to help where he could, a more quiet way, even though no one doubted he would pass it. living with the growing feeling that he wasn’t needed anymore, and the itching want to figure out where he should be now. for someone who had more time than the rest of planet earth, his mind told him there was not a moment to spare. he was not human, and he was coming to accept that.

        the woman who didn’t consider herself to be either made that pause for a moment. maybe his assessment had been wrong; she didn’t make him feel human, she just made him feel less alien. ‘  i have seen that, eve. it does not make much sense to me.  ’  he shakes his head.  ‘  what does she sound like ?  i saw a movie recently a fish trying to get home, and another about two people who ... it was very strange, eve. she was trying to make him hate her, and he was trying to prove she did not hate him, for their jobs.  ’

[callededie]

      '  eve ?  ’       he looks at damien, wondering why he wanted to know what he thought of her. damien had known her just as long as he had, surely he must have come to a conclusion about her already: that she was dedicated, kind, practically unstoppable when she wanted to be. eve was a good human being, even if she had once denied even being one to him, all those years ago. she made him feel more human than many.  ‘  you know eve, damien. did we do something ?  ’

@callededie​

“So, Edie. I’m not one to gossip, but I—ah, couldn’t help notice you and Eve back then. What are your thoughts on our platinum blonde assassin-no-more?”

[callededie]

retiredeve·:

it’s a surprise, that’s for sure. but she’d gotten used to the idea of people showing up without scheduling a meeting by now. she had neighbors, maybe even friends, so she’d given up the habit of answering the door with her gun drawn. she leans against the door frame and smiles, “this is okay,” she confirms, “do you want to come in?” 

        he matches her smile ,       one that perhaps a bit more natural than it used to be. it is nice to see her in this way, in a way he got to see the others have for a time. he nods and gives his own confirmation,  ‘  yes, eve, i would.  ’  he holds up an object in his hands, two blue slushees -- a human novelty who’s appeal had never faded for the alien they called edward turner -- and held one out to her.  ‘  good food after a mission. like the team used to do.  ’  it had been days since they got back, but better late than never. 

[callededie]

       '  you don’t need to thank me, beth .   ’      edie replies looking at her, his tone sure.  ‘  we all saved people.  ’

@callededie​

“I never got the chance to thank you properly for that night. It’s the second time now that you’ve saved my life.” 

[callededie]

       he  stands  in  her  doorway ,      unannounced. humans saw each other outside of work, he had observed it to be true.  ‘  hello. is this okay, eve ?  ’               @retiredeve​

[callededie]

        given  the  results  of  the  last  encounter ,      edie felt the need to make sure he kept moving. any slight falter might be scrutinized, show he wasn’t ready. after spending so much time being unable to help due to a lack of outlet, the alien man refused to return to that because of his own shortcomings. whatever was causing that feeling, he would fight it harder should it appear again.

       tango and edie move through the lab, his mind wondering where me might find the information that he needed. the door tango finds looks promising, and he looks to the other as he speaks. his facial expression remains mostly static, not putting his usual energy into the verisimilitude of being human. he doesn’t weigh his options for long,  ‘  okay tango ,  ’  he says, before stepping towards the door just enough to get in reach of it. suddenly he lands a kick, driving his heel into the door by the lock.

@callededie​

Over time, Tango has learned how to read human emotion not in facial expression, but in movement and scent, in vocal tone. The lift at the end of a sentence, the sharp edged smell of adrenaline, the rapid movements of anxiety. And Edie smells like he’s on edge, and somehow faded in a way that has Tango worried.

But he doesn’t know what he can do about that, so he simply follows Edie as they explore the strange lab, and tries to think of ways he can help.

There’s a locked door that groans when Tango rears up to lean his weight against it, and he thinks he could easily buckle it – instead, he drops back down to sit in front of it, contemplative. “EDIE,” he calls. “DOOR… LOCK. EDIE OPEN?”

[callededie]

        he  feels  like  she  should  be  angry  at  him .      he had certain orders and duties, and he had failed. the confusion doesn’t register on his features the way it might for someone more accustomed to human intricacies, but rather remains almost blank. he’s hurting inside, but channels his energy into this puzzle instead.  ‘  it is not just okay, moira. things like this should not just happen.  ’

@callededie​

“you did all that you could. sometimes things like this just happen.”