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[ When a familiar face pops up on the network, he's looking a lot less dead than he had looked during his last appearance. In fact, he looks entirely well aside from the dark circles underneath his eyes and a slight pallor to his skin, something that can be attributed just as much to stress as it can injury. ]

Hey, everyone. It's Jaime. And the Blue Beetle, I guess. That cat's extremely out of the bag.

[ He takes a deep breath. ]

I don't really know what to say, except that the Negotiator's dead, so everyone should be safe now - not that I'm the guy you have to thank for that, but the people who did were just doing the right thing. And that I'm sorry, for everything about happened. I knew that the Negotiator was bad news, but I didn't think - I didn't think he'd do that. But I knew. And I'm sorry I didn't do anything about him sooner.

[ He glances off-camera for a moment, teeth worrying at his lip. He looks like there's something else he wants to say, but he eventually leaves the matter be. ]

If there's anything I can do to help anyone who was hurt in all that, it's the least I can do. And... thank you to everyone who tried to help, or who fought back. From me and the Scarab. He -- I -- [ He shakes his head. ] Ah, damn it.

[ Words have never been his strong point. He cuts the feed. ]

[ NOTE: This post comes a couple days after THIS ordeal! If you'd rather see him in person, whether in the hospital (the first day), at his home, or evading the press, feel free to check out my CATCH-ALL. ]

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[ Ordinary, huh? The thought is like the roll of thunder in the distance: if Jaime had been brought to this world without Khaji Da, how would he have been changed? What kind of power would Lachesis have imbued him with, if he'd had to face this place alone?

But like thunder, it rolls, and passes, the rest of the storm unhindered. That's how this conversation is starting to feel: not always a downpour, but in parts needling, in parts heavy, in parts dark, and fraught, and in all parts inevitable, all parts necessary. It's hard to navigate. ]

I'm glad. I don't think he hurt me, but... to tell the truth, I don't know if I would have noticed then. [ She hesitates. It doesn't feel like her place to say; it's more than she wants to say, but... ] ... The Negotiator had just died. And Khaji Da's... anger. Coming back, it was... I think I would have felt it from where you were, Jaime. You could have run me with a sword, then, and I don't know if I would have felt it.

So. [ She bites her lip; her fingers twitch around the handle of her fork, the tines clicking against the plate. She meets his eyes. ] Thank you, Khaji. For being kind with me. You didn't have to be.

...yeah. I get that. Back when Khaji got reset, that was just the way he was, all the time. [ It was a bad time. He'd spent so long just trying not to be angry but it kept on bubbling out of him in fits and bursts, unable to see or sense anything but Khaji's unmitigated rage. Even now, he's not sure why that is; when he's reset, he should have been cold, clinical.

Maybe a part of him had known that something was missing. But even so, he knows what it's like, how when that's a part of you, there's almost nothing else you can sense or feel. For someone with Ruka's empathy, it must have been deafening.

That anger had been absent by the time Khaji had gotten to Jaime. He'd stayed there for longer than he thinks, hunched over himself, just giving himself time to have their mingled wash over each other; relief, possessiveness, a love so brilliant that Jaime no longer doubts it. They had felt the exact same thing in the moment, strong enough to make Jaime weep with it, but it'd been good. Right. After all this time, Jaime knows exactly where Khaji belongs.

It must have been so strange for Ruka. ]

He says you're welcome, by the way. You guys are friends now. And, um... he knows I wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt. Even if I was dead.

[ He's just relaying the message. Khaji wouldn't have shown the same restraint with all of Jaime's friends, but he knows the people that Jaime holds most dear. He wouldn't spit on Jaime's memory by hurting them. And Jaime's grateful for it. ]

[ Maybe it's not the time for it, but you guys are friends now does put a smile on her face. It's no broad thing, with a laugh or a bright flash of teeth, but her cheeks curve, and her mouth splits ever-so for the tension of it. She wasn't sure he'd ever think so, about her — not on this time scale, and not with all else that has happened. She doesn't go out of her way to make friends anymore; this was an exception. Maybe it's an exception for both of them.

But the buoy is temporary; the conversation is still fraught, even for its slow and quiet pace. Still, there's a way he says it... and maybe she should be more concerned about that stated outcome, if I was dead, but her brow furrows, and she asks a different question. ]

Are you... still worried about me? For what happened up there?

[ Jaime deliberates on lying for a second, but she'll see through him - and he doesn't want to lie anyway. She knows him too well to think that he's just brushed it off like that. Of course he's worried. He always worries. He worries about everyone who got caught up in that mess.

And that's always going to include Ruka, who's always looking out for him, but seems to have very few people looking out for her. He'd been too consumed with his own business to look in on her, afterwards. He wonders if anyone else did. ]

I mean... yeah, a bit. It was pretty intense.

It was intense for you — you were in the very middle of it. I wasn't.

[ It's a soft stress. A gentle reframing. She gnaws a little at her cheek, thinking how to put the rest. Push too hard one way, and it sounds dismissive to what Jaime endured; too much the other way, and it feels like bragging. She exhales, shaking her head. ]

I mean... the Negotiator couldn't get close enough to me to hurt me. Neither could any of his captive. There wasn't anything I could do, but nothing happened to me. Running into Lucina and Kanaya was just... lucky coincidence. They did all the work. I was just there. So, like. I felt how bad it was, for everyone, but that's the same any time something like this happens. I felt him... die, but, I've felt worse. Khaji was a mess, coming back, but I've... I've had bigger, angrier, messier things in my head, for a lot longer.

A lot of things happened up there, but, they're... all things I can deal with, Jaime. What happened to you and Khaji is a million times worse. Everyone else who got captured, or taken hostage... it was worse for them.

So you don't have to... [ waste your time worrying about me. ] ... I mean. I'm okay. It was exhausting. That's all.

[ I've felt worse isn't as reassuring as he's sure Ruka means it to be, but it's also not a surprise. He's been through worse with her already, after all. She hadn't felt just one person, one evil, awful person die - she's felt an entire city die and the fear that swelled in them before that. And before even that, she felt a world die. Of course it's not as bad as it could have been. Very few things are. ]

What you went through not being as bad as it couldn't mean doesn't mean that I won't worry, though, [ he points out, though there's no combativeness in his words and little more than a twinge in his heart. ] It's just - I'm gonna worry about the people I care about. That's all.

It's not a bad thing, you know.

It's not—

[ Counter is reactive, but she cuts herself off, not sure which part she wants to fight. It's not arguing for the sake of arguing. She doesn't like the way it settles on her shoulders — his worry, his concern, when the matter's already passed. It's different than fretting something happening in the future (even if she's discomforted by that, too), because at least that makes sense. It all makes sense, technically; it's not a bad thing, technically. He's not wrong. And she knows he cares, that they're friends, but— ]

It's, you're always worried about me. [ It sounds so stupid when she says it. ] That's too much effort, isn't it? You have so much going on already, Jaime, you shouldn't focus so much on me.

It's okay.

[ He looks up at her. There's something there - a little twitch of a smile, something a little wry, soft around the edges, fond and tired all at once. They've been through a lot together. It feels, sometimes, like they've known each other for a lot longer than they have, in ways that only become obvious once they stumble accidentally into some odd gulf between them. ]

You worry about me too. I think that makes us even.

[ And, well, it's worth it. Everyone he worries about like that is worth it. ]

[ Does it? She doesn't think so. They're too different; their reasons are too different. Aren't they? She worries because she can see the weight he bears on his shoulders, and how unstable the path at his feet. Maybe he can carry what he has already, but more is coming, and the ground won't hold them both; things are getting worse, and will only continue getting worse, and he isn't ready for it. She doesn't want to see him crushed any further by this existence if she can help it. He's too important to leave to chance.

He worries because, what? Because she seems sad? Because she's weird, and lonely, and frail? Because her heart is fragile, and her existence pitiful? He wouldn't be wrong to think so — but it doesn't make them even, does it?

But there's something about the expression on his face, and the way his mouth is shaped, that stills her response. He's not quite smiling, but the closest he's come since she arrived, isn't it? She's not sure when she last saw a smile from him; she doesn't see him often, so maybe it doesn't mean much that she can't remember, but it nettles. He must have an easier time with it, with other people, but how much has his face has changed to them?

It would be cruel to argue now. Later, she thinks, when things aren't so dire. When he doesn't need her meager support, and the world isn't falling apart, and she can reveal all the cards in her hand. But until then... ]

If you say so, [ light, concession, but— ] then you can worry about me tomorrow. Today's for you.

Okay?

[ He could argue. He should argue, because he can't just stop worrying. It doesn't work like that. But a part of him is less worried anyway, because she's here, and she's okay, and while there's probably a big part of her that isn't okay... it's not like what had happened after the Shimmer. Even if she's not okay, she's not breaking apart at the seams.

Some things still feel dreary and awful. He still feels the weight of his failure, the weight of how bad things got before he was able to do anything to stop it, the fact that in the end, he hadn't done anything, the people who got hurt, and the fact that everyone knows --

But she says today's for you. And wouldn't that be nice? Just to be normal for a day? To try to just recuperate and deal with the rest of it tomorrow?

And at the end of the day, worry's good. It means she's still here to worry about. That she's still close enough for him to worry about, that even after everything, she hasn't withdrawn again, closed herself off to any of it. It's just another concession she's allowed him and, greedily, he'll keep taking them where they're offered. ]

Okay, [ he says, warmth underneath the weariness. ] Deal. You're a good friend, Ruka.

[ She bristles at concern and evades worry, so it's really no surprise that she flusters at compliments given so forthright. Her nose scrunches, and her mouth thins, pinching into her cheeks; her face shifts rapidly in little micro movements, uncertain what sort of expression to make. It settles in the vicinity of a pout. ]

Finish your dinner, you big sap. [ Grumbly, but there's no bite to it, and she's definitely not looking at him. ]

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