etrayalogs | Embrace the forces that surround you, bend gravity and space

Entry tags:

Embrace the forces that surround you, bend gravity and space

WHO: Accelerator (

levelshift) and CR.
WHEN: Towards the end of the event through September.
WHERE: San Francisco, back in Etraya.
WHAT: Closed prompts for his CR.
NOTES\WARNINGS: The hospital thread will contain discussion of violence and injuries towards a child, likely talk of Accelerator torturing and killing Sleipnir. The farm thread will contain discussion of torturing and killing clone children.

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[The last thing Accelerator remembers is entering the ER wing of the hospital. He had made it there shortly before he switched his choker back to normal, pain flooded his brain, and everything went black. The thought that maybe he was dying occurred to him, only briefly, but he didn't have time to seriously consider it.

Thankfully, he wakes up in a hospital bed. He had been dreaming of something (blood, it's always blood), but the noise of a nurse leaving the room after checking on him drags him towards consciousness. His mind feels all muddy, and he groans in protest at being woken up. Even if his dreams are awful at least they aren't painful. Everything hurts, everything from trying to move his fingers to breathing (likely due to a couple cracked or broken ribs) and a whole litany of curses runs through his brain.

It takes him a few more minutes to do anything beyond slow his breathing down so he doesn't jostle his ribs. As he slowly blinks his eyes, he stares up at a white ceiling, fluorescent lighting, the overly familiar smell of disinfectant reaching his nose and the beeping of whatever machines he's hooked up to reaching his ears. There's something stuck to his finger, a pulse oximeter he guesses, and his other arm has been put into a splint. Giving himself some more time, he lets his eyes focus, then he looks around.

He is indeed hooked up to a bunch of equipment, stuff he would expect to see in a hospital in Academy City. That is to say, medical machinery that's more advanced than anything in a typical modern city, so that's a relief. His left arm is not only splinted but bandaged, treated for the burns that goddamned monster had inflicted. Actually, he can feel bandages all over his body, including around his head. The hospital bed has been left partially propped up.

After a short moment of panic, Accelerator notes his choker has been removed from his neck. But his thought processes feel normal, normal as they can be right now anyways, so it must be nearby. Probably bundled together with his crutch and his clothing, as he's in some standard hospital gown instead of the torn and bloody clothes he had arrived in.

With that assessment complete, Accelerator shakily draws in a rough breath.]

Fuck.

[ Harold has automated internet-trawling alerts set up not just for Accelerator and John but for almost everyone he can think of. It was a strange and surreal return to what his life once was to simply sit down at a computer and hack away until he had things arranged to his satisfaction: house, funds, identities, and surveillance. Samaritan had been so oppressive, so completely smothering, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to have the resources and capabilities he used to have.

But whatever reveling he might do in this return to form, and whatever slow descent into moral ambiguity might be dogging his steps the longer he stays in this world, it all evaporates when he receives the notification that Accelerator's fake name has come up in a local emergency department admissions feed.

He leaves quickly, though he has to change before he goes. Harold needs to be Harold Wren and not Encryption or Harold Crane or anyone else, so he takes a moment to switch out of his over-the-top austere clothing and into something more subdued and professorial. Even fatherly. It's a role that still rests uncomfortably on him, flashes of white text on a black screen calling him FATHER circling behind his eyes, but this is all a ruse and he knows that and he won't do Accelerator the disservice of overselling his own place and authority in his life.

He's just -- worried.

Harold doesn't have to pretend to that concern when he arrives; he's anxious, subtly tense, has no idea what's going on or how Accelerator has ended up here. Still, he takes a moment to retrieve his things from the nurses before coming into his patient room, the soft steady beeps of the monitoring equipment an eerie background lull.

He enters quietly, closes the door so it latches shut behind him, approaches the bed and sets down the choker on the napped acrylic blanket covering him. ]

Isuka. What happened?

[ Harold is experienced enough at fake names that he doesn't hesitate to use his here. He sounds softly horrified, and constrained, like he's considering his subsequent actions carefully. The scope of what he's willing to do has recently expanded -- dramatically. ]

[Accelerator hears the door softly open and glances over, his eyes widening when he sees Harold step in and not a nurse or doctor. Before he can stop himself he's blurting out:]

Harold? [Not Finch or Wren or any other surname he might be using in the moment. He looks surprised by his own outburst, by Harold's appearance when he hasn't called or texted him, before he shakes it off.]

I — [He tries to sit up a bit more, and winces, another wave of pain ripping through his thin body. His attention is forced to swerve from answering Harold's question, briefly to his choker being set down, and finally to the IV drip connected to his good arm.

That. That fucking thing.

He flails a little, trying to grab the bag. Not easy, given he only has one working arm and it's taken up by the IV and the oximeter. As he does, he starts ranting in Japanese. What the hell are they giving me? Acetaminophen? Is that what it says? Goddamnit, get the damn nurse, I —

He freezes, realizing what he's doing, and with a ragged breath switches over to English.] These bastards don't know how to handle espers, I need something way stronger than this. Get the nurse.

[ There's only a split second of stunned hesitation before the request processes, and Harold hastily leans over to hit the nurse call button at the side of Accelerator's bed.

Then he rests a tentative, quieting hand on his arm where he's trying to mess with the IV. Removing it will not help him get appropriate medication. ]

Tell me what you need and I'll make sure they give it to you.

[ A line of steel undercuts his voice, Harold both trusting Accelerator's own knowledge of what medication he should have and prepared to fight whoever necessary to ensure it happens. There's no reason for him to be in pain, and they know about heroes and villains here, people with abilities -- Harold is sure he can convince them, as his guardian, to administer it if it exists here.

And he must be in so much pain to slip into Japanese like that. ]

[Accelerator doesn't stop fussing until he feels that contact on his arm, and his first, instinctive reaction is to freeze up. Despite all the progress he's made over the months physical contact (that isn't violent, anyways) isn't something he's used to outside of a certain clone brat, but it's only Harold, so as soon as his sluggish mind has processed what's going on he stops and reluctantly sinks back down to the bed, trying not to jostle his ribs or his arm any more than necessary.]

Morphine. [It takes him a few seconds longer than normal to run the calculations through his brain, and when he does he rattles off the dosage. Not particularly difficult for him, all he needs to do is take what he's learned from classes in school and combine it with everything he picked up from the teams of scientists and doctors that developed his body over the years.

After he does it occurs to him how strange this is. Back home those teams always dictated his medical care, and then after he was shot it mainly fell to one very competent doctor. Specialists always just told him what to take and when, and here Harold is asking him what he needs without any question or judgment. 'Strange' might be understating it, though Accelerator can't tell if some of that is coming from the pain that's still fogging up his mind.

Either way, once he's settled down he stares at Harold, a little unnerved.]

... Thanks.

[A nurse will be coming in shortly after he says that, having gotten the call at the nurse's station in the front of the ward.]

[ As worried as he is, Harold is composed in a crisis and handles the nurse who bustles in with aplomb. He's calm and confident without being demanding, and he takes a moment to learn her name and have a real exchange with her regarding Accelerator's care. He doesn't intend to come off as paternal even though that is his cover here -- it just happens automatically. He likes taking care of things and of people, and when he knows what he's talking about, he doesn't apologize for it.

Especially at this moment when his typical ethics are wearing away, eroding steadily like a rock against the sea, Harold is far from apologetic.

When the nurse has left and the morphine is flowing, Harold pulls the visitor's chair over and takes a seat, promptly reaching out to settle his hand on Accelerator's arm again. It seems too forward to take his hand in his, but he wants to express his presence and his support physically somehow, and he'd reacted to that well earlier. ]

Let me know if you need anything else, [ he says, still calm, but his eyes are tight around the edges. ] There's no reason for you to be in pain. Either John or myself will stay here as your guardian until you're released.

[ He's already using his free hand to pull his phone out of his inner jacket pocket and starts typing a text message to update John. Harold only needs about a quarter of his attention to do that, most of it remaining focused on Accelerator. ]

[For his part, Accelerator remains quiet as he watches Harold deal with the nurse. This situation is feeling more and more surreal by the moment — even Yomikawa and Yoshikawa didn't handle his medical wellbeing to this extent. They didn't need to, his doctor was already familiar with espers and Accelerator in particular, so he had it all handled. This hospital has never handled artificial espers, and he's in a city where a minor has to rely on whatever guardian they have. It's a completely different situation than home, and Harold is managing to make it both easier on him and more strange.

He isn't sure he'll ever get used to an adult helping him this much. He's grateful when he's given the morphine, quickly feeling a difference as it enters his veins. It's reassuring, which helps when Harold settles his hand on his arm.

There's a reflexive twitch from his body and he shifts, but he decides not to pull away.]

I'm fine. That bastard didn't do any permanent damage.

[He could tell that much earlier, when he was still using his ability.]

You don't need to stick around, if you don't want to.

[Really, who the hell enjoys being in a hospital?]

[ He waits until he gets a confirmatory response from John -- he has it under control, but he should come by later, and prepare for a long vigil -- before slipping his phone back into his pocket. Harold reorients himself fully back to the conversation at hand, sparing Accelerator a dour look at the suggestion. ]

If someone was able to harm you to this extent, then I'm afraid of possible retaliation, [ Harold says grimly, more than a little pointed. ]

What happened? I know you've been getting up to trouble, but nothing you couldn't handle.

[ Harold has absolutely been monitoring him and knows about him picking fights, whatever agreement he had with Maria aside. He's just too circumspect to interfere unless it seemed like he really needed it... and he'd missed this. He's frustrated with himself, and worried, and immediately wants to slip into crisis management. They need to protect Accelerator, and themselves. Innate paranoia is making his skin itch.

He's lost too many people to assume anyone is ever safe, and this sets all his nerves on edge. ]

Edited 2025-09-06 01:59 (UTC)

[Frowning at the idea of retaliation, Accelerator moves to settle his hand on top of his choker. He doesn't move to put back on quite yet, it's fine for now there on the bed next to him. He just needs the reassurance that it's within reach.]

... Tche.

[With the click of his tongue, Accelerator turns his stare away from Harold. If anything, it's embarrassing he's in such a bad state and having someone worry over him. He should be more competent than this.

As he explains, his voice is low.]

I was looking into the anomaly. Some Etrayan apparently had information that I tried to force out of him, but I only ended up killing him. [He's admitting that without skipping a beat, since no medical staff are within earshot.] His friend was pissed off about that and ambushed me.

[Which meant he couldn't switch modes in time before a lot of damage was done. If he had, the situation would have been completely different.]

It was my screw-up. I doubt he'd be interested in going after anyone else.

[ He notices how he puts his hand on the choker for reassurance, assumes his point has been taken and doesn't need to dig into it further, and then feels something cold wash over him as Accelerator says he killed someone. It's a chill he's familiar with, has felt so many times before, but now it doesn't fade into sad resolve like it usually does. Now it stays, edges creeping out and expanding like the thinnest layer of ice forming over a body of water.

This place really is affecting him. He knows that. But Harold can't find it in him to care all that much when he has someone under his care making possibly unwise choices and getting into danger. And with another Etrayan, who will be remembering and following them back... Good thing he'd gotten that death pass assigned to him.

Not that he's going to tell him that. It'd only cause an argument, or make him act recklessly, neither of which Harold cares for. ]

Let's skip the part of this where you pretend there's a possibility we'd leave you to face the consequences on your own, [ he says calmly, that chill settling over him, clear and sharp. ] Who was it, and did you kill him on purpose?

[ Harold needs a name so he can start looking up every trace of his existence in this world. ]

[It didn't occur to Accelerator until right now, but him being here in a hospital may be a terrible idea. If that monster is able to hunt him down who's to say whether or not it will try attacking him again? And now he's in a building with expensive medical equipment and, more importantly, a lot of fragile and sick people who could potentially be collateral damage. If he was at 100% he could protect them, but as he is now he isn't sure. On top of everything, Harold is here, and if he were to get hurt....

Accelerator curls his hand over his choker. He should have stuck around and killed that thing instead of running. It was selfish to run. That thought remains stuck in his head as Harold replies, and he stares down at the blanket on his bed. It looks kind of fuzzy, probably because of the morphine.]

... I only have his username on Aurora's network. Grimnir. He was tall, with greyish hair, and he sounded vaguely Norwegian.

[The name seems Norse, and the guy had a European accent that sounded similar to the people he had encountered while in Norway, so it's his best guess. However, it isn't very good information, and he knows it.

Just like he knows his reason for killing that person speaks to a complete lack of control on his part. That bastard hit a nerve, and he responded by killing him instead of staying calm and getting that information. It's something he's sure will disappoint Harold.

Accelerator is silent for a few moments, dragging his choker into his lap. When he continues, his voice is flat but his hand is trembling slightly.]

I wasn't getting anything out of him. He pissed me off, so I killed him.

[ Harold resists the incredible reflexive urge to get out his phone -- or, better, run out to get a laptop -- and do what research he can on that handle.

That's not the point of this, he knows; he can do that later. The practical matters will be handled, and John is on his way. More than anything, the real practical issue is to make Accelerator return to better judgment. It's not capability he lacks. And if Harold feels a strange resounding emptiness at the thought that he's killed someone unthinkingly, simply because he was angry--

That's also a matter for later. ]

That was poorly thought out of you, [ he says dryly, and he is disappointed, if less emotionally horrified than he'd normally be. It was unwise, if nothing else. Etrayans come back to life. So he'd killed him and gotten nothing out of him, a double mistake.

He reaches out and sets a hand on him again, this time directly on his, the grasp firm. He's disappointed, and he'll take this information into account, but he moves on. ]

Will you trust me to handle everything until you've recuperated? We'll need to move you.

[ He's just been given morphine, and Harold found him here through his government name. Obviously they can't stay. Hiding is always Harold's preferred defense, one he's comfortable with and knows how to orchestrate.]

[Those words are rational and reasonable, and they still stab into Accelerator's brain like sharp knives. That's it, the lack of emotion in Harold's voice is confirmation that he is disappointed in him. This may be even worse than Harold being angry with him — anger holds no expectations. Disappointment does.

What's worse, he doesn't know what disappointment looks like when it comes to Harold. For a split second, Accelerator realizes he's never really disappointed him before, and it's therefore a complete unknown, a blank void in his knowledge about the man, and that utterly terrifies him. He's told Harold he killed people back home, and he's killed people here in Etraya, but it was in self-defence or two protect others. It was never as part of one massive failure of a plan before. It was never because of...

Of his own emotional insecurities.

Accelerator visibly jumps when Harold's hand settles on top of his again, preventing his own from continuing to shake, though it doesn't allay any of the fears that are building in his mind, an incessant buzzing that's getting louder by the second. His eyes widen slightly.

This isn't right. This can't be right. This can't be right.]

Y... yeah.

[He can't trust himself do handle things on his own after how badly he screwed up, there's no way he can expect Harold to do that. Swallowing thickly, he keeps on staring down at their hands as more words spill out of him.]

I shouldn't have let him get to me. All he said was some stupid bullshit about me being an 'unlovable child,' which isn't fucking wrong, but it still set me off. I should have had more control over myself.

[He doesn't know why he's saying any of that, why he's bothering. It doesn't matter. If anything, this probably going to make Harold think even less of him than he already does.]

[ Harold even as he loses his morals doesn't lose how much he cares. If Accelerator is afraid he's buried his humanity too deep to find it again, then Harold has buried his deep to protect it -- and carved a well-worn path to visit it, again and again, a touchstone he returns to constantly like a guiding light.

His expression tightens for a brief moment before it smooths out again. His understanding of the situation shifts and his perception of 'Grimnir' changes. He'll have to confer with John over how they'll handle him, because the tactics he used are reprehensible. Somehow even without his morals, he still knows where the lines are, bright lines he won't touch -- and calling someone an unlovable child is one of them.

He refocuses on Accelerator, voice quieting, losing some of his prior coolness. ] You should have. [ He won't dispute that. Harold knows he's capable of better, and he has to be, with the amount of power he has.

But... he knows the crux of this and why it'd gotten to him, and if he wants Accelerator to react differently in the future then he has to refute it. ]

Especially because it's not true. You're not an unlovable child. You're a young man who's been badly treated and has a remarkable ability, and I care for you very much. Isuka Wren.

[ He lets his name here be its own statement, both heartfelt and ambiguous, a typical Harold sort of declaration. He means every word and every permutation of how it can be interpreted. He isn't, and never will be, ashamed of caring. ]

[Accelerator is aware that when someone normally says what they've been thinking it's supposed to feel cathartic. They've gotten someone heavy off of their chest, and what is supposed to accompany that is a lightness, a relief that allows them to move on.

He doesn't feel that. Instead he's mired in a sticky sense of disgust and self-loathing, even as he listens to Harold. In spite of his disappointment he tells him it isn't true. He uses that name, the one Accelerator expressed his distaste towards, and hearing causes Accelerator to freeze.

Then he dips his head, not crying because he hasn't done that in years and doubts he's capable of that kind of emotional release anymore, just breathing quietly. There's an incredibly painful knot formed in the pit of his stomach, one formed from the conflict of what Harold is saying with what he's grown up being so sure of, and it makes him want to crumble. He knows if he does, as it has in the past, he'll be little more than a torrent of destruction that will leave this hospital and everyone in it a mound of rubble and pulp and that wouldn't be right, so he focuses on his breathing instead.

It's ragged and shallow, not deep enough for him to get the air he needs. It, along with the slow drip of morphine and all the buzzing, makes his head fuzzy, like it's full of cotton. He suddenly feels exhausted, and his voice drops to a whisper.]

... Why? My own fucking parents didn't. Grimnir reminded me that. [He abruptly pulls his hand away from both Harold's and his choker, burying his face in his palm.] That was what did it. A time-wasting lost cause of a child, who wasn't loved by their mother, that was what he said. Why do you think differently when that's all true?

There's nothing I can say that could explain it.

[ He speaks softly, heart aching. Harold loves humanity but is also thoroughly disillusioned. He wants to create space for people to be able to live up to the potential they have in them, the innate capacity to do good, but so often they don't. He knows that. He knows without needing to research the facts that what Accelerator is saying might very well be true: his mother may not have loved him.

Accelerator is looking for a rational explanation that doesn't exist. It's a fool's errand. Whatever answer Harold could provide wouldn't begin to address the carved-out space left permanently empty by the abuse he's received from people who should have cared for him.

But maybe this young man could stand to hear a few specific good things said out loud about himself anyway. ]

I care for you because you're thoughtful, [ he says slowly, piecing his words together with precision. ] And I see something of myself in you, however self-involved that is. We've both made mistakes that have hurt many, many people, and have to find a way to go on.

I care for you because you care. You care about each individual life. I don't think you realize how rare and special that is.

[ He thinks of Dillinger and how long it had taken him to find John and now he never wants to take that for granted ever again. Harold sees Accelerator doing something like crying or at least an approximation of it, and he wants to reach out and hold him through the pain and confusion about why the world keeps changing its rules. But he doesn't know how he'd react to that, so he only stretches his hand out and lets it rest palm-up on the bed, passively waiting in offer to take his hand again. ]

We won't leave you to face your mistakes on your own. I can promise you that.

[Family is something Accelerator has given thought to countless times. When he was young he tried as hard as he could to remember them, hoping for even the slightest shred of a memory, and when he couldn't he wondered why they never called him, why he didn't get to go home on holidays like other kids. Then those thoughts became who they might be. Then whether they even existed. Each and every one of those thoughts left sharp pangs deep within him, but he still wondered.

As he got older, those thoughts started to fade and acceptance set in. There was no point in thinking about people who didn't want him? The pain felt more like a dull ache when he didn't think about them, more easily ignored, so that was an even bigger motivation to simply give up.

This changed for the better with Last Order, and Yomikawa and Yoshikawa coming into his life. But they aren't in Etraya, he's been on his own for over a year and a half with one small exception of a few days, and that loss, that lack of support certainly helped Grimnir's claims find purchase in his mind. The morphine is helping things along, as are the injuries he suffered from that monster. The fuzziness in his head, being forced to deal with the fragility of his body and his reliance on his ability and the choker, it's all culminating in a vulnerability he isn't used to facing.

He isn't sure if it's better or worse listening to Harold. He regrets asking, it leaves him with a kind of selfish, sludge-y sensations that invades every inch of his body, and at the same time, it's reassuring. Harold wouldn't lie to him or exaggerate for his benefit. He's only being honest, and doing so without ignoring his (very serious) flaws. It's simultaneously heartening and guilt-inducing.]

............

[Regardless of his conflicting feelings, Accelerator drops his hand, silently staring down at Harold's hand, a lifeline in the darkness. One person here cares for him. Last Order, and Yomikawa, and Yoshikawa may not be here, but that's okay, because Harold is. Even though it's completely unreasonable, irrational, the worst choice he could make, Harold still cares about him.

There aren't any words that he can manage, only a shaky, almost choked kind of noise that leaves him as he exhales. He doesn't feel like the #1 Level 5 right now, or the Board Chairman of a city of millions. He just feels miserable, like a lost child who needs to hear that he matters, and that's why he moves to grab Harold's hand, wincing as he jostles his splinted arm in the process.]

[ Accelerator doesn't say anything -- it's like a piece of him is shorn off, edges wearing away like a cliffside in a storm -- and Harold feels his whole heart pulse with the empathetic desire to comfort him.

Then he takes his hand. His own spasms in reciprocation, accepting. ]

Oh, [ he breathes out, ] please let me hug you. May I hug you?

[Accelerator clutches Harold's hand all the tighter at the question. Any attempt at answering is dying in his throat, so he just swallows thickly and gives a small nod. Physical contact isn't something he's comfortable with in most situations, and maybe it's the morphine, but right now it doesn't seem like such a distressing thing.]

[ Permission granted, Harold folds forward instantly, stretching out his arms and awkwardly hoisting himself to perch on the edge of the hospital bed so he can reach better without making Accelerator strain. The fabric of his suit is fine combed wool, softer than it looks, and his hands are entirely without callouses and his demeanor without reserve as he wraps him in a hug. ]

I'll tell you if we need you, [ he whispers, soft into the limp strands of white hair. ] I promise. Rest until then.

[ He will. Harold won't be foolish, he won't risk anyone's safety. But he knows enough to handle things from here and judge if they need Accelerator awake and operational to defend them, and he wants him to give over that responsibility to him. ]

We won't leave you.

[Accelerator is a little reluctant to release Harold's hand, almost not wanting to give up that small amount of comfort in favour of something that's honestly a little frightening. For as long as he can remember the only one he's hugged has been Last Order, and a small child is a far cry from an adult. He can't stop himself from tensing up when Harold's arms move around him, and it takes several short breaths before he can lean into it, resting his forehead against Harold's shoulder.]

... Thanks.

[His voice is still quiet, and after a few moments he's reaching up with his good arm to curl is around Harold, returning the hug.]

[ For how rarely he does it, Harold is a good hugger. He has a soft comfortable presence, receptive without pressing. He isn't concerned about his poise and he isn't impatient to do anything else; he leans in and lets them find a comfortable position, and if his heart picks up its pace as he thinks of his own father, it's nothing he needs to interrupt them with.

He whispers into his ear: ] John is on his way.

[Accelerator is fucking terrible at hugs. He's all bones, and he's clinging as tightly as he can to Harold with his one good hand.

This feels... nice. Comfortable. He despises that it does, but denying it would be a level of stubborn even he can't manage. Then again, maybe it's a good thing that being hugged feels nice. It's another reminder of his humanity, something that he's certain Harold would be happy about and encourage. So regardless of his personal feelings on this, it's got to be a good thing.

He tries to stop himself from overthinking this.]

Okay. I can pull myself together.

[He isn't ready to let go quite yet, though.]

Not on his account.

[ Harold practically scoffs at the idea, and settles in to get more comfortable on his hip and regain an appropriate speaking distance, like he has no issue and no intention of breaking off the hold early. ]

He'll be here so you can rest and heal. Mr. Reese would shoot anyone who threatened you, you must know that.

[ Under the influence of the morality adjustment, Harold is even most blunt about this fact than normal. ]

[Maybe not on John's account, but Accelerator, for all the vulnerability he's feeling right now, is sure he'd be mortified later if anyone saw him. He doesn't want to think about it (it turns out he really, really needed this hug), but he really does need to start composing himself.]

..........

[There's no way he'd be opposed to John killing the hell out of the asshole that attacked him, but he sees a huge logistical problem with it.]

I don't know if a gun will do much against the thing that attacked me. It had claws, and some kind of fire power... like it was part goddamn dragon.

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Embrace the forces that surround you, bend gravity and space

Closed to Harold - the hospital

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