riverviewlogs | They say if you die in a dream. you die in real life [open]

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They say if you die in a dream. you die in real life [open]

who: Ronan Lynch and others
what: After being attacked by his own nightmares, Ronan recovers in the hospital and thinks about how much he hates himself. People come to tell him he’s an idiot or laugh. Who knows.
when: November 19 to late November
where: Riverview hospital
warnings: Self-loathing, references to past suicidal ideation, will update as needed

Not much impressed Ronan and the advanced medical t. The first day, while his stomach healed, he lay in bed viciously chewing on one of his leather wristbands, having thrown the other at the wall. The next few days, when he could bear to stand, he got up and paced and punched a wall before being forced back into bed.

Mostly, he stared at the walls and imagined tearing them apart and he hated. Oh God, did he hate and it was all at himself. He did it again. He did a-fucking-gain. The thoughts ran through his mind in a spiral. The last time this happened, his best friend had been there to question and judge and make him promise. Ronan said that it wouldn’t happen again. He'd meant it.

He lay in bed, gnawing on the leather bracelet like a dog. The hole in the band grew until it began to break into pieces. Only then did he stop, in order to tear it apart. Well, he tried to. What actually happened washe gritted his teeth in pain and snapped the band hard against his bed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You're psychic?" Ronan remained tense, but there was no longer an edge to his voice. He paused, easing back onto his hospital bed.

Tired as he was, things clicked into place. Cisco's panic was understandable, given what he'd seen. Ronan imagined the scene looked worse from an outsider's point of view. Most importantly, Cisco was someone he could trust. He wasn't lying before, when he'd tried to cover up Ronan's broadcasted memory.

"Yeah, they're from my dreams. It was a shitty month." As if that explained everything.

"I- guess. Kinda, sure. Please don't tell anybody."

It wasn't how Cisco thought of himself, and he was sure there were any number of differences between the kind of things he could do and the psychics that Ronan had known back in Virginia. But for the purposes of this conversation, he was probably close enough not to quibble over the terminology. He hadn't come here with the intent of explaining his metahuman powers - he'd come to make sure Ronan was alright.

He was glad to see Ronan relaxing back against the bed, calming down a little. He seemed less mad, though still somewhat miserable. Understandably. Who wouldn't be miserable, in a hospital, after being attacked by horrifying monsters.

"You sound... like, not surprised. Are you in shock or is this- has this happened before?"

Cisco had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter, but you never could tell.

"Come on, man. I'm not that much of a hypocrite." Ronan was almost insulted but he remembered his own reaction when Cisco learned of his powers.

Now that he'd had time to process it, the surprise left him quickly. Psychics he could deal with. So far Cisco had been a lot less annoying than the ones back home.

He made a shower of considering Cisco for a moment. He didn't look for any differences. There wouldn't be any to see, but it did give him time to decide how to answer. In his end, exhaustion won. Keeping so many secrets for so long drained him. Whenever he had a chance to talk to someone about his powers it was something of a relief, no matter how heated the conversation got.

If he was relieved now, it didn't show. "It happened about two years ago," he said at last. "I had it under control until last night." Frustration leaked into his voice. The muscles in his neck tightened.

Cisco nodded at that, tucking his hair back behind his ears, grateful for Ronan's agreement not to tell people about his powers. He didn't know Ronan all that well, but Cisco remembered the first time they'd met, and how vehement Ronan had been about not being a liar. If he made an implicit promise like that, chances were he would keep it. Probably.

He waited while Ronan found his way to an answer, concern obvious on his face, but there was no impatience there. When Ronan finally answered in the affirmative, Cisco just nodded a few times, unsurprised. Ronan's defensiveness when he had asked about how much control he had over his powers had been very telling. It took one to know one.

"Did something happen? To make you lose control? A trigger, or catalyst?"

He asked the question softly, seeing how tense and upset Ronan was. Still, this was important to establish. It had been so vital to Cisco, realizing that his powers were triggered by fear. Once he learned that, it had been the first step towards getting them under control.

"Anyone ever tell you to mind your own damn business?" Ronan's sharp voice contrasted perfectly with Cisco's.

Ronan didn't care if Cisco wanted to help or if the question was a valid one. He hadn't even talked to Adam about what it was like to have his father, mother, and his own dream clone haunting him for almost a month. There was no way he was going to get in touch with his feelings with someone he barely knew, no matter how many secrets they shared. The thought of it made his mouth twist like it was trying to find an expression but couldn't pick between so many unpleasant ones.

That was it. It was time for some tough love. Not because Ronan was rude to Cisco - he'd pretty much come to expect that, by that point. But because he thought it was what Ronan needed, and there didn't seem to be anybody around to give it to him.

"If you aren't willing to learn how your powers work and what triggers them, and you end up creating another monster that manages to kill you, or Adam, or some innocent bystander in this city, then it's gonna be my business."

Cisco had friends on the police force (not to mention his boyfriend), had friends in the Guard, knew plenty more of the emergency responders professionally. They would be the first ones in the line of fire, if Ronan didn't get his shit together. Cisco crossed his arms, sitting back in the chair, expression hard (or at least, as hard as his expression ever got). To him, it's a necessary, pragmatic question.

"For me, it's fear. I get too freaked out, I have a vision. Took me fucking ages to figure that out. If you can figure out yours, maybe we can do something so it doesn't happen a third time. Unless you love hospitals that much?"

Edited 2017-12-06 17:35 (UTC)

"You think I don't fucking know that?" It was damn near impossible to look threatening while stuck in a hospital bed and Ronan was not the exception to the rule. But he looked more than willing to throw the whole bed into the wall if he were able.

"I knew it was coming and that's why I went outside of the fucking city. I'm not going to let it kill someone. So spare me your God damn lecture because you don't know shit about this." He'd clenched his hand tight enough that the knuckles went white.

"Ronan."

Cisco was too empathetic by half, and it hurt, seeing Ronan in so much pain. That was why he was lashing out, and Cisco knew it. He was hurt, and scared, and probably feeling pretty damn guilty. And so young... not all that many years younger than Cisco, true, but a few was all it took.

"I shouldn't have said that about hospitals, okay? That was shitty."

Ronan looked like he was going to rip his stitches, and for a moment Cisco wondered if he should leave, if that would be better for him. In the end, he chose to stay, but his voice was softer, even in the face of Ronan's white-knuckled rage.

"Look- I'm just trying to help you. 'Cause I do know shit about this. Not, like, this this, not your 'this', but I'm in the shitty secret powers you can't control and don't wanna think about club, okay? I've been there, done that, got the horrible T-shirt. Leaving the city didn't work. It's time to try a new plan."

Edited 2017-12-07 00:58 (UTC)

"Yeah, well I've got one." Ronan wasn't as loud, but for that one sentence the venom in his voice was just as potent. After that, it turned into bitterness. "They won't hurt Adam. As long as he gets between me and them, there's no problem." Provided he tried to cover Ronan with his whole body and not just an arm. Trial and error.

Ronan forced his hand to relax, if only for the sake of his blood flow. "Is that a good enough plan B or are you gonna ride my ass some more?"

Cisco brought up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. It wasn't nearly a good enough plan B for him, no. Because the possibility of others being hurt still seemed quite high, and it was one possible, fallible solution to a symptom of the problem. But, considering Ronan's overemotional state, and his own exhaustion, he decided to let it go - for the time being. Later, when Ronan wasn't vulnerable and wounded, Cisco would get on his case about a more permanent plan.

"No more ass riding." The for now was silent, but there was some implication of it in his tone. Then, dropping his hand and looking at Ronan once again, earnest even in the face of that bitter expression, Cisco said, quietly, "I'm really glad you're not dead."

Then, curiously, he asked, "Why won't they hurt Adam?"

Ronan noted the implication. Even if he didn't, at this point he'd suspect it anyway. The one theme in all Ronan's conversations since last night was that they held the promise of another argument later. The prospect of adding another to the list wasn't daunting so much as exhausting.

Ronan could have held onto his anger, but at a certain point even he found it hard to take it out on someone. The white-hot anger seeped out of him in a few slow breaths. "They hate what I hate. They didn't care about collateral before. Looks like they do now." He was still trying to make sense of what changed.

"They hate what you hate?" Cisco repeated, not because he didn't hear Ronan clearly, but because those words are a lot to digest. Cisco had seen the way those monsters went after Ronan, in his vision. He'd seen the viciousness of the attack. There was no question of them hating him. Which, by implication, meant Ronan hated himself.

And that was a pretty heavy thing to grapple with. Cisco twisted his hands together in his lap, wondering what he should say, if there's anything to say. The implied revelations about Ronan's mental state seemed just as important to him as the details he was learning about these monsters. Ronan apparently understood them better than Cisco had thought.

"Well... that sucks."

Understatement of the year.

"Can I ask- you said you knew they were coming. Do you think it's possible, I mean- is there anything I could build you that might help? I've made tech before that... helps people to lucid dream, maybe I could tweak that somehow?"

Ronan watched Cisco's reaction, waiting for any judgment or an effort to put distance between them, but he couldn't detect anything. And if Cisco pitied him, he had the good sense not to show it.

"Yeah," he said. In the time it took to say the word, he considered Cisco's offer. There were too many unknowns. Who could say what would happen?

"I don't think tech is going to work. It's all magic." He thought. With its connection to Cabeswater, it had to be. and if that was the case, how could science affect it?

He remembered the warning about the last man who'd wanted to study him. He will find the thing that makes you work, and he will remove it.

No, he decided. However science affected it, he didn't want to know.

"If you're so worried about my dirty little secrets getting out, find a way to keep them in my home. Like a forcefield or some scifi shit."

Cisco had no way of knowing if Ronan was being dismissive, or if he was right. When he'd been in the early stages of figuring out his own powers, he'd asked Taako to help him using magic, and the whole thing had backfired spectacularly, ending up trapping them in a weird half-vision half-nightmare that they had to break out of. So Cisco knew from first-hand experience that sometimes, science and magic didn't mix well.

And besides, he wasn't going to repeat the mistakes of his friends back home. The only reason he'd tried those lucid dreaming goggles in the first place had been to relive his own death so Barry could get information; it hadn't mattered much to Barry that it had nearly given Cisco a seizure, that it had left him a shaking, terrified mess. He wasn't going to make Ronan go down that road. Especially not if his nightmares were bad enough to produce monsters like that.

"I'm worried about you," Cisco corrected, firmly but without malice.

Still, he rubbed his chin, considering the possibility of some other tech solution. Even if they couldn't prevent the monsters from being created in the first place, maybe he could build a barrier, and perhaps, a weapon for Ronan to use against them.

"Forcefields I can do. I'm gonna need to know a little more about those things, if we want it to work. And maybe I could set you up with some kinda... I don't know, some kinda anti nightmare monster stun gun."

Cisco was always wary, creating weapons, after what had happened with the cold gun, but he could make an exception.

Ronan made no response to Cisco's expression of worry. He wasn't used to people giving a damn about him unless they knew him well and even less accustomed to people insisting on caring after he was a shit to them. These were the sort of interactions he didn't know what to do with, especially in his current state.

"There's not much to know. They're from my head. They know what I want. That's all she wrote. No one gave me a detailed guide on magic dream powers." His harsh voice turned bitter at the last sentence.

"You don't need to know that anyway. A normal monster stun gun would work. Bullets kill them. Axes, crowbars, box cutters..."

"There's more to know than you think. If I'm going to make an effective barrier, I need to know what they're made of, how strong they are, that sort of thing."

He could make something rudimentary, for the time being, but Cisco knew what he really needed. He needed one of those monsters, preferably alive, to study. Except that that went into all kinds of bad territory, ethically and otherwise. Cisco frowned, shoulders slumping a little with sympathy when Ronan griped about his lack of preparation or information.

"I hear that, man. Nobody gave me a guide to my shit, either. When I... first started getting visions, you better believe I thought I'd gone full Beautiful Mind. I had no idea what the fuck was happening to me. I still barely understand it."

At least it sounded as if he wasn't going to have to develop a new weapon; Cisco had all kinds of extra stuff he'd designed and put together for the police and Guard that he could give to Ronan, in case of monsters.

Me, Ronan thought. They're made out of me.

More accurately, they were made out of his soul. That made Cisco's offer even less appealing. The night horrors were monsters, not specimens. Just like Ronan.

He did what he always did whenever a subject became too unpleasant, he shifted the focus. "When did you start seeing things? Did anything trigger it or did you wake up one day and boom. Magic hallucinations."

There was no way of missing that pointed change in conversation, and Cisco sighed, rubbing a hand against his forehead. He wasn't going to push it. His earlier flare of anger had left him feeling hollow and mildly queasy, and now he didn't have any more capacity for irritation. He wondered if this was how Stein felt, when he'd flatly denied to let him study his powers, or even tell anyone about them.

"I'll get you some stun grenades - only for monsters, and if you use 'em for anything else we're gonna have words, trust me. As for the forcefield, I can set one up that won't let anything in or out that doesn't have an emitter transmitting a particular frequency, and get you one of those to just keep with you." After a pause, Cisco added, "I'll give you two, for Adam."

When Ronan asked how his powers first started manifesting, Cisco's gaze dropped to the floor. He'd opened this door, by telling Ronan he was a metahuman. It wasn't an unreasonable thing for Ronan to ask, especially since in his case he seemed to have been born with his powers. But talking about it, beyond a flippant joke told in passing, was hardly easy.

"Sort of a long story. I got my powers when the particle accelerator exploded, along with all the other metas, but for some people they don't show up right away."

Cisco brought a hand to his mouth, gnawing at a fingernail as he decided how much he should tell, how much he should hold back. Nothing about Dr. Wells, for sure. None of the details about how it had happened. Too gruesome. Ronan was already in the hospital, no need to heap any of that on him.

"I was murdered." Never stopped being weird, saying that. Cisco stared at a spot somewhere near Ronan's knees, rather than look at him. He kept his voice as even and neutral as he could, not realizing that that almost made things worse. "I think maybe it was... being so afraid, that flipped the switch. The timeline got reset by a day, and nobody should've been able to remember anything from the first version of that day except the Flash, but. I did. So yeah, it was kind of something triggering it but at the time it felt like. Boom. Magic flashbacks to..." Cisco trailed off, finishing the sentence with a small shrug.

At best, Ronan understood half of that, but he wasn't completely stupid. He got the important parts.

"Well, shit," Ronan said most eloquently. For probably the first time, since they'd met, he looked sympathetic. On Ronan, that meant there was an absence of his usual coldness. His mouth wasn't twisted in a sneer or grimace, and his eyes weren't cold and sharp. "That's fucked."

Ronan, personally, had only gone through an attempted unmaking. But two of his friends had died, and there was something about the way Cisco spoke that made him think of Noah. He could see his friend tracing "murder" on a car. It had screwed him up. Hell, it screwed Ronan up from only witnessing the aftermath of his father's death.

He reached over and poked Cisco's arm, in case he needed help coming back to earth. "You don't have to talk about it," he said. "Glad you're alive and in the flesh, psychic-Jesus."

"It's way fucked," Cisco confirmed, darkly. He was quietly grateful, for Ronan's understated reaction, for the way Ronan made it clear that he wasn't going to pry about the specifics, or the emotional impact of it, or any of that. Cisco was not really up for any of that at that moment. He could, however, share one thing, which he knew Ronan could relate to.

"You know what else was, like, super fun?" Cisco's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, "When all that shit with people's memories was going down, and other people got to watch me getting killed and then ask me a bunch of questions about it. That was a real great time."

They'd both had secrets they didn't want open for public comment or scrutiny dragged into the light. Cisco held up a hand, conceding, "Not as bad as it getting posted on the network, of course. But still... not great."

Cisco looked up, then, and noticed the way that Ronan's expression had softened a little. He looked different, without the perpetual sneer. Much more like the young version of him that Cisco had seen in that memory where he created his little brother.

"Anyway... not exactly the most promising way to discover I had powers, but there's no getting rid of them, so no use crying over spilled trauma."

The crack about him being psychic-Jesus made Cisco smile and roll his eyes, but it was kind of nice, at the same time. Both that Ronan was glad he was alive, and that he could joke lightly like that, that he wasn't looking at Cisco like he was a freak or a ghost or something unnatural or scary.

Edited 2017-12-18 02:04 (UTC)

When Ronan thought about what else could have been posted for everyone to see, he wasn't sure he agreed with Cisco. Christ, if it had been either of his parents' deaths and people wouldn't shut up about it, he'd either have ended up here sooner or put someone else here. People had asked him before, but at least they hadn't seen him have a complete meltdown.

"Nah, man. There are worse memories to share than surprise baby brothers." Given his distant stare, he wasn't thinking of Cisco. He snapped out of it a moment later. Something Cisco said suddenly clicked. "Would you get rid of your powers?"

Cisco nodded silently; he didn't know exactly what Ronan was referring to, but Cisco had had a sense for a while now that Ronan had almost certainly been through Some Shit in his life. Somehow, he could just tell. There was something different about the way that Ronan was angry, something wounded. Perhaps it just took one to know one. So even though he didn't know the specifics, in a way he didn't need to.

"I bet. Your brother looked real cute."

It's a deliberate move - commenting as if the memory about his brother were a good one, rather than asking about what had happened that was worse. If Ronan had wanted to talk about that, he would have. Besides, there had been so much happening back then that Cisco hadn't had a chance to say how cute Matthew was.

Ronan's question about whether he would get rid of his powers startled Cisco. He didn't answer right away. There was a time when he would have, without question. Since then, though, he had used his powers to protect Eddie, to save Magnus's life. When he thought about that, the answer seemed clear. But then he would remember Dr. Wells, looking out at him from the pipeline, going on about his great destiny, talking as if Cisco were something he had made, something he owned because he'd made him into a meta.

Cisco shrugged, eventually, and said, "I... don't know."

Complimenting his brother earned Cisco a half of a smile from Ronan. Matthew was the angel of the family, both from his fair, curly hair and guileless smile and his bright personality. Sometimes Ronan missed him so much he wanted to scream.

"Yeah. It's crazy. I don't even remember any of that. I had no fucking clue. Didn't think I had it in me." Which wasn't to say he didn't know he could dream someone. He just didn't think he could dream someone like Matthew. It must have been because of how young Ronan was at the time.

He watched Cisco while he considered Ronan's question. His look wasn't sharp. There was no test here. It was just interesting.

"I guess it's different when you're not born with it. I never met a psychic who regretted it." He did not include himself in that statement. He wouldn't have ever given up his own magic, it tied him too much to his father. It was part of who or what he was. But sitting in Church or lying in bed, drinking, he used to wonder where people like him went after.

It didn't matter. He had no choice. And he wouldn't regret Matthew or Opal. Hell was a small price to pay.

"So, wait, you didn't remember?"

In part, Cisco was curious about Ronan, and his powers, and his life. But the main reason he asked that question was a little more subtle. Ronan seemed happier, talking about his brother. Cisco was feeling a bit guilty, for how hard he had pushed, how harsh he had been, when Ronan is trapped in a hospital bed. So this was in part an attempt to direct his attention to happier things.

"Did your brother know?"

Cisco did his best to listen and imagine Ronan's perspective; from the sound of it, he'd been born with his powers, and into a world that didn't acknowledge anyone having powers at all. Perhaps that was really enough, to offset the nightmare monsters? Still, Cisco couldn't quite buy that Ronan was totally fine with his powers. He had been so frightened, when it came to others finding out about them. There had to be a story, there.

As for his own story, Cisco wasn't going to tell all of it. But he could add, at least, "The man who gave me these powers was... evil. Everything he did was evil. So sometimes I feel like they must be, too."

"No," Ronan said flatly. "No one let me in on that secret until I was seventeen. My older brother told me."

That was not a fond memory. It disturbed and frightened him in ways he couldn't pick apart. For a solid week after, he kept replaying all the different times he could have got himself killed and sent Matthew into a permanent slumber. He hadn't even cared.

And yet at the same time, it made sense. Of course Matthew was a dream. Of course he was his. He was everything Ronan loved.

Ronan picked at the sheets though he was unaware of the movement. "Man, I am like the worst person to talk to about this. My dad gave me this and I still don't know if I'm going to hell for it." Ronan froze for several seconds. He had not meant to say all of that. "Doesn't matter. How could you do anything evil with some psychic visions anyway?"

They say if you die in a dream. you die in real life [open]

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