Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Sorry doesn't bring anyone back," Jordan sighed, his eyes going distant as his chest tightened with buried grief. Would he ever be able to think of his brother without that stab of pain? Some things you never got over. You coped, you mourned, you went on living, but even when the sharp edge of the pain had blunted it still dug at you sometimes.

He glanced sideways at Ro again at the question. "Wait for the weapons to wake up. Keep going. What else can you do?"

Eventually Jordan sat up and ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I'm not sure if I should've had less of that or more," he said, and pushed himself to his feet. "Either way though. Thanks."

Jordan laughed a little, but not unkindly, and moved to help Ro get back up. "C'mon," he said. "Walkies. Let's get you a bottle of water and something to eat." He wobbled slightly as he straightened up, and added, "Me too."

Progress to the cafeteria was slow and careful. Once there, Jordan deposited Ro at a table while he went to retrieve water and the cafeteria's excuse for waffles, which he figured were bland but solid enough to help with the alcohol without making either of them sick. He set the tray down on the table and snagged a chair, then handed Ro one of the water bottles. "Drink that," he said. "My tolerance is crap, but I know how to prevent a hangover. How much did you drink?"

"No wonder you fell over." Jordan pushed a plate with waffles on it in Ro's direction. "Eat something. That'll help too." He took his own advice, picking up a waffle and opening his own bottle of water.

Helping someone made the silence in his head just a little more bearable. He realized, suddenly and guiltily, that he hadn't checked on his other friends yet, that the past couple of days had passed in a blur of aching depression. What kind of a friend was he, wrapped up in his own little world and blinded to everything else?

"Yeah, I know. No offense taken." Jordan leaned one elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. "I'm pretty sure it's sorted now. We had a long talk. Got things explained better, figured some things out." He sighed. "I need people. Didn't before, but now, well. I have friends."

Jordan smiled, a little sadly. "Yeah, I know. It's hard, though." His thumb brushed along his index finger in a reflexive motion, but touched only skin instead of metal. "I've been kind of falling down on that job lately. Too wrapped up in my own problems. But that's not much of an excuse."

He took a drink from his bottle. "I guess everyone changes," he said.

"Yeah, I know." Jordan leaned heavily on the table. "I don't like seeing people hurting. If I can do just a little to help ease that off .. " He trailed off, shook his head. After a moment he said quietly, almost plaintively, "I don't want to choose. Me or everyone else ... I guess I'm just selfish like that."

He leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs and bracing his foot against the leg of the table. "I used to try to be invisible. Average. Watch everything without getting involved, getting attached." He laid his hand flat on the bag that held Ferros's tablet, looking down at it, unable to stop himself from mentally reaching into the empty space that should have his weapon there, his partner. "It's a sharp divide. Before the island and after. Before knowing who I was when I didn't know who I was."

Jordan smiled a little. "Thanks," he said. "Hard to stay positive right now." He poked at a waffle, said almost to himself, "We'll make it."

"Everyone's hurting with the weapons gone. Almost everyone," he amended, thinking of Robert and Jezebel, Ofelia and Rue; a few hunters might be less than devastated to have the voices in their heads silenced for a while.