Topic: Misdirected Anger

Colt Daniels

Date: 2012-09-07 21:40 EST
Tuesday, August 28

?Tell me about why you?re angry with Cooper.?

Colt didn?t lift his eyes from the paperweight in his hands. Instead, he leaned further over in his chair, resting his forearms against his knees. A kaleidoscope of shades of blue-green called to him within the smooth glass exterior with several bubbles floating up. It was as if someone had captured some churning, foaming water from the Atlantic ocean within the glass. Dark shapes within appeared almost like fish rushing by as the rode the wave in but their shape was too indistinct to say for sure.

His thumbs ran up over the glass as the silence in the room ticked on. It seemed it wouldn?t be broken until he answered the question. ?Because of what he said to me about Jackie and Chey. It?s none of his business.?

?I don?t understand why I?m here. Have I done somethin? wrong?? Colt asked as his hazel eyes lifted from the globe in his hands to the woman behind the desk. She was older than he, probably early thirties, with her dirty blonde hair swept up in a librarian?s bun on top of her head. Glasses that she probably didn?t need sat poised smartly on the tip of a pert nose. But she still seemed to carry about her a warm air, a mother?s love. It seemed to come easily for her, probably thanks in part to the blonde little boy and girl whose picture was in a frame on her desk.

Dr. Carol Sloop?s eyes lifted from the open file on her desk to meet Colt?s gaze. ?Of course not. You know meeting regularly with me is required of those with your security clearance. Why would you think you have done something wrong??

?Because we weren?t scheduled to meet up for another couple of weeks. Annie-Love told you to meet with me, didn?t she? She said I was angry.?

The psychologist acknowledged the statement with a nod. ?She did mention that she?s been struggling with your anger through the bond you two share.?

His gaze fell back to the paperweight in his hands, releasing a huff at the statement. Near the bottom was gentle, curving lines with a hint of yellowish tint. It was like looking through the water to the sand beneath, curved by the movement of the tide. "I don't understand why she doesn't just talk to me herself. She is one of you, after all."

"I'm assuming by 'one of you' you mean a psychologist and you know perfectly well why she is not the appropriate person to have this conversation with you," Dr. Carol replied in an even tone which suggested that while she was not offended by his unwillingness to speak with her, petty excuses would not be tolerated. "The two of you are entirely too close for her to serve in this role for you even if your bond didn't cloud her judgement."

The view within the globe reminded him of something but he couldn't figure out what. It was like one of the energy wakes that people gave off. It stirred a distinct feeling in him, something to which he could relate. He sucked in his breath and let it out slowly before forcing his eyes up to her once again while rotating her paperweight between his palms. "What was the question again?"

"I hadn't had a chance to ask another," she replied, shooting him a brief cheeky grin before her eyes slid back down to his file. "The incident with Cooper happened two days before Tenacity was admitted to the hospital?"

"No," Colt replied quickly. "It was the day before."

Ten?s energy wake had recently morphed, sliding into something new too gradually to be narrowed down to a single day. Her wake had felt like skinny dipping on a steamy summer night. But now? It was different. It had changed. Energy wakes had never changed that way on him before.

?The day before? That doesn?t strike you as important??

He rolled his thumbs over the smooth glass, furrowing his brows thoughtfully. It did strike him as important. His anger -- no, rage -- with Cooper. The way that Ten?s energy wake had suddenly twisted into something new. There had to be a meaning behind both. ?Even if it was important, why would it matter??

The pen in Dr. Carol?s hand was set down and she pulled the glasses off of her nose to frown at Colt with no barrier in between. ?This man has come up in our conversations before. I have not forgotten. He is the one who gave you the courage to first ask this woman out, was he not? And now when you need his support the most you are lashing out at him? Over an incident in which you have admitted that you were in the wrong? If Tenacity hadn?t ended up in the hospital the next day would we be having this conversation? Or would you have admitted several days later that you were in the wrong as you did with Chey and Jackie??

Why did it feel like she was rubbing sandpaper over an open sore? He felt his palms grow sweaty around the cool glass. He gripped down tight over his temper but his voice was thin and sharp when he spoke. ?What? Are you trying to say that I took some small disagreement and blew it up ?cause... why? I?m angry at the fact that there is nothin? I can do about the fact that the woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with is gonna be lucky to make it to thirty? And because there?s nobody to blame and nobody to punch for Ten?s condition, I?m takin? it all out on Cooper? Sounds like a load of psycho bull shit.?

Silence settled over them. The woman held his gaze steadily but with a compassionate softness. Seconds ticked away on the clock. When he could stand it no longer, he let his eyes sink to the paperweight in his hands.

Body surfing off the coast of Georgia. That?s what the feeling that Ten?s energy wake left him with now and that was of what the paperweight reminded him. Adrenaline always pumped through his veins as he gave himself over the wave and let it take him in to shore with the surf crashing in his ears. Sometimes the ride was rough, violently shoving him into the sand beneath or sucking him into a vicious undercurrent that tossed him upside down. He?d come up bruised and bloodied but grinning. Always grinning. Because for those couple of minutes he?d let go of control, giving himself up to something more powerful than himself and basked in the peace that the oneness brought.

?I think we?re done. You know what you need to do,? the woman stated in a gentle tone.

That was why Ten?s energy wake had morphed over the last couple weeks. Despite so many months of her trying to show him the truth, he?d lived in a happy hut of denial. But after seeing her lying in a hospital bed, he could deny it no longer. The time they had was limited. More limited than most.

He?d give himself over to this power greater than himself more. He?d worry about his footing less. He?d make an effort to get her to worry about her footing less.

?Yeah,? he muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet, reaching out his hand to set the glass piece back down on the edge of her desk.

?Keep it.?

The swell of joy that those two words gave him took him by surprise. His hazel eyes lifted to her cool blue ones. ?Really??

?Yes. Now go. I have people with real problems,? she teased, snapping his folder shut.

His hand curled around the paperweight. While it would be slightly too large for most, it fit perfectly in his palm. A quick flip into the air and he caught it with a grin before turning for the door. ?Thanks.?

Colt Daniels

Date: 2012-09-11 18:06 EST
Wednesday, August 29

I can feel it. The darkness. It's been looming over me for weeks and I know that if something doesn't change soon, it's going to consume me. I'm going to give in. Give up. Fade away. And even then, as I struggle for optimism, for hope, I know things are only going to get worse. As if my life is speeding towards an event that I cannot avoid and I'm not prepared. Not ready. That night near the Summer Gate was only the beginning, the break-up with Ravie compounding everything... Can it even get worse? The cowboy was sagged lazily atop a stool closest to the door of the Busted Knuckle, hunched over and with his elbows leaned heavily on the bar. Faded blue denim and black cotton were the night's attire, with that old black Stetson tipped down low and a full glass of whiskey clutched gently between the tips of work-callused fingers. Cooper was working his way valiantly towards a drunk and failing miserably.

Drunk sounded awfully good to Colt and it was a goal he was quite ready to roll his sleeves up and get to work at when he walked through the front door of the Busted Knuckle. Boomer, the large scarred former professional wrestler-turned-bouncer at the door, grabbed him up in a massive one armed hug. Greetings were exchanged, vague plans were made to watch Sergei race, and then Colt snaked his way through the midweek crowd of regulars towards the bar.

Hazel eyes glanced over Cooper's form and became fixated on that stool. It wasn't far. A couple quick strides and Colt was on so he was giving an upward tilt of his head at the man before anyone watching even saw his posture shift.

"Get up."

Mild disappointment might have registered in the nervous tick at the corners of his mouth, the solace offered by the Busted Knuckle's usual ambience somewhat incomplete without Jackie lingering around to strike up one of their random conversations. No, instead the cowboy got one Colton Daniels, who's sudden arrival and demand was met with a slow slant of deep brown eyes his way. "Colt," he greeted the man tersely, before lifting the glass and swallowing down a healthy mouthful. "If'n y' want me t' leave, fine."

And then he was rising slowly to his feet, with the intent of polishing off the rest of his drink and making for the door.

There was no further warning but, then again, the Daniels brothers had never been above fighting dirty. Least of all Colt, the most ready for a fight of the three. Without hesitation, without a logical thought sliding its way through his head, Colt's hand tightened into a fist and he he launched a jab at Cooper's face.

"Allie Dee, y' have a nice n---..." Crack! He'd expected a lot of things from Colt around that time, but it had all involved words and dirty looks. What he didn't expect was the suckerpunch. First Harper, now him. And like the first time, it had an immediate effect on the cowboy. The hairs on the back of Cooper's neck rose, those typically warm brown eyes growing feral within a split second as his head snapped to one side and the bells set to ringing in his head. From the resounding dong of a well placed strike to the growing warning klaxxons that heralded his Rage. Danger, danger. A thin dribble of blood dripped from the fresh split in his lip as he turned that look back on the Georgian. "I'll give y' that one, Daniels. Any mo' than that and we're gonna have t' have us a serious understandin'."

Colt drew in a deep breath as his eyes lingered on Cooper through the silent stretch as patrons elbowed and nudged one another towards the scene. Feral, rage, danger. His lips split in his dumb dog grin which never quite reached the anger in his eyes. Somebody would pay for his pain. Somebody would pay for the future that would never be. "I'm gonna put you flat on your ass," he growled.

"Jesus Christ, Colton! I'm gonna call ya sister, ya sorry son of a--"

Allie Dee's threat was buried among the whoops of the crowd as Colt the same fist full of knuckles flashed as another punch came crashing down Cooper's way.

In a place like Rhy'din, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when those life-like tattooes inking the cowboy's sleeves began to writhe slowly. Like the fire and lightning they mimicked, the multi-colors moved and shifted with his growing agitation. The second punch was too low versus the solid projection of Cooper's height, thumping heavily on a broad chest still solid with muscle despite his recent loss of weight. Colton's reward? One Hell of a mean ursine growl. "Outside. Now." One large hand lashed out a moment later, catching the Georgian by his collar and hauling him bodily towards/out the door. Some men were strong. Cooper? He was beyond strong.

Colt was among the stronger of those men. He'd spent his entire life in weight rooms perfecting his linebacker physique but he quickly realized that he was no match for Cooper's inhumane strength. But somehow that felt good. More apropos to the situation that fueled his rage. He would just drown in pain and failure under the weight of it until he could no longer breathe.

Even if Cooper wasn't hauling him to the door, Allie Dee was hot on their heels, pointing them both towards the exit. "I'll be damned if you're gonna ruin another night of my tips!"

Boomer already had the door propped open and waiting.

In our Rage, Tall Oak once told him. There is wisdom. Gained and shared. In that, we are unique amongst our Gaian brethren. Cooper jerked and tugged Colt along, until both men were through the door and he was releasing him. It was then that the cowboy was throwing a punch of his own, a heavy haymaker that lacked speed but held plenty of power.

The stumble that was caused by the release of Cooper's hold left him only able to turn his head so that the punch wasn't to his nose which it surely would have broken. And Lord knew the last thing Colton Daniels needed was another broken nose. Instead, it caught the side of his face and would surely mean a black eye in the morning.

But the glass of whiskey he'd started with at home and his anger left him numb to the pain. His years of football bubbled to life as he launched himself at Cooper's ribs in a tackle.

With a snarl, Cooper fell back with the tackled, both men's weights propelling him into a backwards roll. Twisting for leverage, he redirected their mass until he was suddenly on top of the Georgian, swinging away wildly in blows that rained down heavily on the man's body. Gaian Rage fueled each strike, a momentary lack of control making each punch worse than his opponent deserved.

This was pain. Intense. Shredding. And it came with a sickening relief. The physical pain matched the emotional and as much as he wanted to destroy, he wanted to be destroyed more. For the first time in his entire life, Colt gave up the fight. He gave up.

Rage, like wisdom, has it's limits. It didn't take long for the former to give way to the latter and right about the time the cowboy heard the first of Colt's ribs cracking under his angry barrage, he was gasping in a surprised breath and throwing himself off of the man. He rolled across the concrete, elbows scraping on it's rough surface and drawing blood, before he was lifting up to his knees and turning a look on the battered Colton. "Shit..." he spat the word out, regret setting in instantly as he took stock of his terribly beaten friend.

"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck." Cutting loose with a low, rumbling groan as Colt gave a guttural groan of pain, Cooper shambled forward and towards his friend.

Regret showed itself feverishly on blunt features, dark brows furrowed together in thought-without-thought as both hands were weaved between the tangle of the Georgian's limbs and the palms were pressed against battered ribs. The heavy calluses against Colt's shirt glowed a pale, faint green as refreshing warmth rolled into the man's body and cracked bone instantly began to knit itself back towards it's previous state. Even as it did, Cooper was paying for rectifying the wrong he'd just done, as the outline of his veins darkened against tan skin and his heavy breath turned to a wheeze...

A full thirty seconds passed before the cowboy finally fell backwards, gasping for breath scant moments before he rolled over and began to heave into the street.

By the time he realized why Cooper's hands were on him once more, it was too late. Bones were back into place. Bruised but no longer broken. The pain was still there but it was no longer at the sweetly over powering level it had reached. With the help of a hand on the chrome step bumper of an unknown stranger?s truck, Colt dragged himself to his feet. "Fuck you! You had no right! You had no right to heal me!"

Dimly, in the back of his mind, Cooper could hear Colt's words; could hear the cursing and the accusation. But right then, there, it was impossible to manage any sort of response as he spilled what little food he'd eaten that day all over the asphalt. His chest constricted tightly. His skin burned. Black veins had crawled up the length of his arms and shoulder, lingering at his neck. He coughed perhaps a dozen more times times, ridding himself of the last of his stomach's contents before turning a look on the Georgian. "Had no right t' hurt you, either..." His voice was hoarse and raw.

"I wanted to be hurt, you stupid son of a bitch." The anger still burned red hot. Fingers worked at his ribs, trying to hunt down the ones that still had the most damage to them.

"So y' can have one mo' reason t' hate yo'self? Or me? Or so I can have one mo' reason t' hate myself?" Another minute passed, so Cooper could keel over again and wretch some more.

He waited until Cooper had cleared his stomach or maybe he was just waiting to come up with some sort of response. With an exhale, he eased to a perch on the bumper of the truck.

"Ten's sick."

...Cooper's stare was blank. Incredulous. And suddenly? Hurt. "No one told me." Feeling lead-bodied and drained, the cowboy scooted a respectable distance from his vomit, but made no move to rise. "I..." What could he say to that. "If y'all need anythin'... I ain't good fo' much these days, but... yeah."

"She's always been sick. I just... I guess I didn't let myself really grasp how sick. She was in the hospital a couple days. Was admitted the day after that... that whole thing with Chey. She had a seizure." There was a pause as he frowned at a dirty window. Within a man was lining up a shot at a pool table. Alcohol flowed freely. Life went on uninterrupted. "She's never gonna be an old woman. She kept tryin' to tell me that. I guess I finally got it."

"I..." Cooper sighed. "Could say a hundred things right now. None'a it... would be helpful, all things considered." Instead, he say there for a time, providing companionable silence. What could he say to that? What words could he offer that would matter? "Just... cherish her, Colt," he said finally. "Love her." Even as he said the words, the cowboy's head sank slowly into his hands.

He swallowed back the wave of bitterness and an angry retort. Neither made him feel any better. Instead, he nodded. Slowly.

"Ravie's gone," he said after another long pause. He didn't elaborate, but the deep, pained baritone of his voice implied volumes of Hell that had permeated the cowboy's life in the last few months.

His hazel eyes lifted from the ground to Cooper and lingered for a moment. "Well, there's only one thing left for us to do."

"Let me buy you a drink."

For a moment, it seemed as though there was more Cooper wanted to say. Something he needed to confide. But the words, they never came, and when Colt's offer was made, the cowboy was nodding and lurching to his feet. "Aw'right. Could probably stand t' fill m'self with somethin'. Even if'n it is liquor."


((With thanks to the player behind Cooper))