bakerstreet | Healing the Broken

Healing the Broken

healing the broken meme
a shipping meme

The events of many canons have left its characters ravaged, unable to be the whole people they once were. They can never go back to the innocence they had before. However, they can find someone who can pull you back from the brink. Some say love can conquer all ills and cure all broken people - the jury is still out on that, but enough people subscribe to the notion that it may have some merit. With the right affection behind it, can it be the elixir to heal traumas or mend angst? For this meme, it can be. No matter what your what your problem is, from daddy issues to being mind controlled to hating all humans or being just a jerk, all you need is healing from the right person.

All in all? This is a shameless meme playing with the idea of "cured by love." Love it or hate it, it's prevalent in fiction, both fan and published. And sometimes, no lie, you just want to play it and not be judge for the pure shlock you know it to be. Here is the place; now is the time. However, you don't have to go for unrealistic escapism. One partner trying to help the other through trauma is not an easy task, and there are bound to be setbacks, resistance, and hurt feelings. And what if BOTH partners are a little bit broken? Can they survive together, or will they bring each other down?

how to play
- Comment with your character and preferences. Feel free to talk about your character's problems. You might also want to mention if your character is the one who needs to be healed or can do the healing. Or perhaps you and your thread partner can play two roughed up characters learning to trust again!
- Reply to others.

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Jim's newest pastime was pursuing non-injurious physical intimacy with Jack. Outside of their cabin he remained politely decent, if you could call persuading Jack to rest his head in Jim's lap above deck to be decent. Inside their cabin, Jim worked diligently on his bloodless kissing, scratch mark free handling, and on fulfilling his new insatiable desire for skin on skin contact.

The weather had become too hot for him to wear clothing without soaking them with sweat, and now that his legs and upper body were exposed to indirect light for long hours a day, the scorching and peeling ravaged his shoulders and spread down his back.

The blistering sunburn had kept him in constant pain since the day they had spent traversing the French countryside but Jim hadn't complained about it even once. He had taken to laying down towels over the top of the bedcovers and sleeping bare on top of them, though. The breeze helped, and it kept the aloe and shredding blisters from gluing to the sheets.

His hair had bleached all the way to a medium copper color, creating an interesting contrast to the bright red skin of his face with light brown undertones. He took naps more often in the hottest part of the day, waking frequently to reach out for Jack to reassure himself that he was still there.

The ten days floating down the river from Luxor to the Aswan dam were spent in this lazy fashion. Jack, for his part, doted without ordering, handing off whatever was needed, or what he thought was need. In the land of cotton, he made available (and cajoled and attempted to convince James to wear) kaftan tunics and loose trousers to cover him and provide protection from the sun, wetting them and the broad brimmed pith to provide for passive cooling. Silvadene (or it's Egyptian counterpart) applied after cool showers, cool compresses or a damp towel over his back during siesta/riposo, and fluids, usually in the form of tea (boiled water the main ingredient of any liquid offered), aloe provided cooling relief and titanium oxide was slathered on Jim's exposed skin before they went topside.

The longer they traveled south, the more he was coming to the conclusion that a tropical climate wasn't good for James, and they hadn't really been out, always able to retreat under cover or indoors. However, the advantage of going south, was that eventually they would reach a temperate climate that wouldn't hold the promise of continual burning...just had to get through the worst of it.

From the Aswan Dam, they would take the Nile Ferry down Lake Nasser to Lake Nubia, disembarking at Wadi Halfa. The train, that ran once a week, would take them to Khartoum. Had already secured a two-berth cabin with (minimal) air conditioning for the 18 hour ferry ride, but the train he would have to negotiate the day before, and the sleepers would go quickly. Might have to resort to bribery to secure one.

He had found it necessary, when traveling, to bring his own sheets and towels, as many basic accommodations were downright unhygienic. Supplies had been ordered in Cairo and would be waiting for them both at Wadi Halfa and in Khartoum for the next legs of their journey.

[Helpful link: http://www.seat61.com/Sudan.htm#.VwQCm6QrKUk Love the commentary/reviews]

Edited 2016-04-05 18:49 (UTC)

As they had transitioned from areas which spoke predominantly Egyptian Arabic to those using standard Arabic, Jim was able to communicate with much more fluency and ease. Though he had discarded many of the trappings of British culture, both in social mores and appearance, his thirst for tea made from the black leaves he had spent his life drinking was endless. Milk was completely unnecessary and he had no problems going without sugar, which made his habit significantly easier to support. His face wasn't peeling anymore, though the skin was still eternally raw as it struggled to produce enough melanin to keep up with the demand. Yes, his shoulders hurt, but every time Jack decided it was necessary to slather more goop on him became another perfect opportunity for a make-out session.

"There are banks in Khartoum that will give us access to some of the larger overseas accounts. If you think it's necessary to keep getting us unadvertised upgrades we'll have to start carrying more currency." Jim would need a few days there in order to keep his financial affairs in good order as well as cultivate some local contacts just to keep in the loop about the more casual information trade going on around them. Straddling a seated Jack, a position that had caused Jim a great deal of tension during their rocky little tryst in Luxor, was now perfectly comfortable. Jim mouthed his way up the side of Jack's neck, with his arms wound around Jack's waist and a half-aroused erection pressed low against Jack's belly. The constant pain had softened Jim's rough edges, pushing him into a distracted daydreaming state as a way to cope.

'Unadvertised upgrades' earned a snort as he spread the sticky substance. The trip was going to be uncomfortable enough without taking comforts where they could be found. Hotels, even in Khartoum would be terrible. Jim's descent into dirt, dust, and insects would be swift. On the up side, Jack had heard of several tent operations outside of town that were marginally cleaner.

"You are the one slipping cash into pockets. I make people happy by not breaking anything," including them.

"I had imagined at the outset that you would be considered my handler, here. Me, the clueless tourist, you the hardened adventurer."

Jim nibbled at Jack's earlobe, contemplating yet again the question of Jack's communication troubles between the two heads and what could possibly be done to repair the problem. Dr. Whatsit had assured Jimmy that everything below the belt would be in like-new condition well before now. Dr. Whatsit never lies, so the trouble must be above the collar. Jim had been avoiding the topic like the plague it was, but the longer it went unaddressed the more difficult it would be to resolve.

It was a very difficult topic to broach, and thinking about it always made Jim fretful and moody, which led to Jack showering more affection on him to divert his attention. Now Jim was thinking about it again, and now he was getting moody again.

"The best laid plans always deserve a few backup plans. Although," rumbling, his head tilted giving more access, "I do like handling you, not that I'm that familiar with this end of the world." The poacher he shot had been hunting an Asian elephant, not an African one. "If you would like to take an abrupt left turn, I would be happy to take you to my former haunts. Slightly less killing that direction."

"My Hindi is terrible and my Gujarati is worse, but I'm sure the ready availability of tea will make up for it." Jim rested his forehead against Jack's shoulder. He had just had a nap but he was tired again. Still tired. Trying to crawl out of his own skin and into Jack's wasn't working.

"English is still used in India and Arabic is between us and it." Kissed the top of Jim's head. "Wherever you decide, I will follow," and help make possible.

Their laundry and linen was freshly done, dried on the line and brought the scent of limestone sand and the wind into their quarters. Their escape from London hadn't yet been difficult.

"Wherever you wish to go, Love." Hands coasted over the peeling skin. "Drink your tea, it would just slip from my hands," taking the weariness as a symptom of continued mild to moderate dehydration.

"I keep wondering if you're making that promise to a person who no longer exists." Jim sighed, softly. "And I just don't have it in me to keep up the illusion."

The smear of aloe came to a startled halt. "Excuse me?" stumbling where he didn't think there had been unlevel ground or a pothole.

"Moriarty died on a rooftop. Jim died when he bet his own life to save yours." He wanted to shrug, but couldn't be bothered. "And James died when he saw you pay for his mistakes."

Stopping to wipe off his hands on a nearby washcloth. "No," not unless he was - had been talking to ghosts and Jack was fairly stable in mind. "Surroundings have changed, physical difficulties given the change of situation, boredom, lack of an adversary," ticking off the possibilities.

I'm not buying it.

"So you like the illusion?" Jim smiled, just a little, against Jack's shoulder. "It's not going to hold up forever, but as long as I act like nothing gets to me, so can you."

"Then drop it."

Don't do easy, huh?
Well...we might have to impersonate fishermen along the lake, to survive, but what the hell?

"Put the mask down. We'll deal with it."

"I already tried, once. You might recall that it didn't go well. Are you offering to take the next turn? Show me how easy it can be?" Jim couldn't manage any of the melodious sarcastic tones that would have gone so well with these remarks. Instead, his voice was just quietly hollow. He really had lost his touch.

"Not wearing a mask, Jim. I'm a more see what you get kind of guy."

No it hadn't gone well, and even if it looked different than the usual, it was put in the same category. because he didn't wish to look deeper, tired of rejection and still angry himself.

"If you want to wear it, then do it. But I'm not the only one who can crack it for you...and then what happens?"

"You give yourself far too little credit. That, or you're even more self-deluded than I am." Any moment now, Jack was going to want to wriggle free of his grasp. Jim wasn't going to let go first, but he was preparing himself mentally for the physical rejection.

"Underneath all that impressive plate armor you've made for yourself, you're still all the scared, helpless, frustrated things you've ever been."

Set the washcloth aside, and eased himself back, to get a better look at Jim. "Tada. You see it. I see it. I am not wearing a mask between us."

Yes, there it was, the beginning of physical rejection. Why did Jim have to be so needy. Here he was, trying to shift the focus onto someone else. "I have children." It was just a random fact, blurted out because Jim was trying to come up with something relevant. Something behind the mask, or whatever Jack was picturing.

"Alright." Head cocked, "You've made enough to care for them. Which you ought to do, if you're asking my opinion, which you're not."

Thought about it for a second, "Whatsit get to them too?"

"One of them actually was hers." Jim decided that he wasn't going to think about just how wrong these things were. They weren't technically wrong if they actually happened. "She bred the other one to order."

The short answer would have been yes, but that wouldn't have been good enough.
Would have been good enough in the city.
If I had ever though to ask a question like that.

"Sounds like they're taken care of then," narrowly avoiding wincing.
Especially because she's on the no kill list.

Gave a reciprocal confession, not that it was anything. "I am unaware of having any children as the military hands out rubbers like it does candy and bullets and I like the first and last."

"They seem like two thematic sides of the same coin. Projectile and projectile collector." The comparison wasn't worth making. It wasn't even remotely clever, but it did give Jim something innocuous to say. Not that it would help much, with the unpleasant revelations too close together.

"I knew she would want you. It was easier to avoid injuring myself, to avoid the problem altogether."

Cheek quirked, recognizing the effort.

"I would open my veins before becoming hers." At least, becoming hers directly. Couldn't disregard that vicariously it might be true. As it was, he had his small rebellions with Moriarty.

"What else?"

"It's very nice, actually." Jim closed his eyes and allowed the existing fragments of pleasant dreamlike memories to dance past his awareness. Mother was softness and warmth and always made the bad things go away. "Now that I remember she exists I'm haunted by the desire to be with her again. She knows it, too. All it would take is one moment of weakness, I would summon her and she would whisk me away."

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