Welcome to Gaia! ::

At some point during the walk back to Elke's, Celsus had melted away into Fritz; a young man of average height, with shoulder-length red hair that was messy and unkempt about his pale, freckled face. He was both dreading and anticipating the re-meeting with his captain - because even if her pen had broken, she was still his captain - his stomach in twisted knots.

Fritz's feet hesitated on the front step, and for a moment he seemed unable to move forward, frozen in place. He forced himself to keep walking, swallowing hard, and stepped after Carson, the tremor in his hands growing more pronounced with each second that passed.

The inside was warm and cozy, the scent of something tasty wafting towards him; and as Carson moved towards the kitchen, Fritz really did stop, his entire body refusing to go another step, his heart in his throat. His hands were now shaking so badly that had he been holding anything, he would have dropped it, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face.

Weak, whispered his mind, so weak.

Carson took a few steps out of the way, retreating into the kitchen and pulling out a chair at the island in anticipation of Elke putting Fritz into it. "Panic attack," he said lowly, taking another step back so as not to crowd them. "I think. He was having one earlier. I kind of... delayed it?"

Was that a thing you could do? Now it looked like it was back with a vengeance.

"I'm gonna get him some water," he said, feeling awkward, and then busied himself with that. Elke was more than qualified to deal with the situation than he was - rank tended to equate itself to competence, and assurances that Virgo wouldn't be angry with him would sound better coming from Virgo herself.

Elke nodded. She nudged Fritz onto one of the bar stools, but didn't release his hands. "It's alright," she said. "You're alright. Carson, will you get the bread out of the oven? Thank you." Her attention went back to Fritz. I can't do this, she thought, I can't keep myself in one piece, how am I supposed to do it for anyone else?--I can't fix it, I can't...

She closed her eyes and centered herself. "You're here," she said, looking back up at Fritz. "You're here with me, and Carson, and there's bread in the oven, and it's warm inside. The house and the bread both. And no one expects anything of you, and we're proud of you, Fritz." There were exercises to do, ways to make this less... less. Something. She couldn't remember a single one. "Tu es si courageux, mon frere, si bon, it's alright."

He sat down automatically, as though moving on instinct, rather than out of any actual knowledge of what he was doing. Fritz looked up at Elke with his heart twisting into knots, with his chest heaving, biting back the overwhelming urge to simply run away, to throw up, or maybe both.

You're here.

Am I, though?

No one expects anything of you.

They shouldn't.

We're proud of you, Fritz.

Why? I haven't done anything, and I never will.

Slowly his eyes shut, as though he couldn't bear to look at either of them anymore, as though the pain of his own failures was so heavy it was suffocating. The Code's voice rang in his head, resounding like a beating drum against his skull, reminding him with every pound that he was inadequate.

His breathing was no longer the erratic, desperate gasps of before, but slow, ragged. Fritz's fingers suddenly seized around Elke's, and he was bent over now, his hair cascading on either side of his face as a shudder wracked his body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and it came out choked, Fritz barely biting back a sob, the corners of his eyes stinging. "I'm sorry, both of you, I'm so sorry."

Carson continued to do as he was told, because following orders in a crisis was one of the things he'd been intensely drilled to do. He cut the bread into thick slices, slathered it with butter, and passed plates across the counter island towards Elke.

And then he sort of stood there, hands on the granite, not sure what to do next because he'd been told to shush. Carson wasn't confident whether he could be more help to Fritz at this point. He'd already tried and that had just sent him into near catatonia. Elke was bringing him out of that, easing the panic away with her gentle hands and sweet countenance...

He sounded on the verge of sobbing, but better out than in tended to be true as far as these things were concerned.

She kept up the low monologue, gesturing with a flick of her eyes for Carson to come over, too, help her anchor Fritz. Her bones grated against each other, but she didn't wince; she had done worse to herself, and it all paled in the face of her failures anyway. "That's alright," she said, pressing her chapped lips to Fritz's temple in a dry little kiss. "Eat some bread. It's got cinnamon in. If I'd known you were coming, I would have made something more substantial."

She smiled at Carson over Fritz's shoulder. "We don't have to talk about it," she said. "Not if you don't want."

Fritz did not necessarily feel better, but his shameful outburst at least numbed him to the overwhelming feelings of despondency and inadequacy that clustered his mind at every second of every day, keeping him up late into the night. Now he just felt exhausted and worn out, Fritz disentangling one of his hands from Elke's to rub at his face.

The gentle kiss made his eyes flutter; how long had it been since he'd even had such casual affection from someone that actually meant it? Fritz closed his eyes against the gesture, at the feel of Carson's heavy hand easing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"Bread is fine," he said, after a moment, and he exhaled a shaking breath, his face still flushed with embarrassment. Every blink of his eyes stung, but Fritz wiped his face and sat up a little straighter, eyes averted from the two that were currently offering him more comfort than he'd had in a long, long time.

"And water. Please."