bakerstreet | Support Group Meme

Support Group Meme

Per Wikipedia:

In a support group, members provide each other with various types of help, usually nonprofessional and nonmaterial, for a particular shared, usually burdensome, characteristic. The help may take the form of providing and evaluating relevant information, relating personal experiences, listening to and accepting others' experiences, providing sympathetic understanding and establishing social networks. A support group may also work to inform the public or engage in advocacy.

And now you know. And knowing's half the battle.

Post with a character.

Unlike most memes, you'd probably be better off by providing a general theme for people to respond to. You know, have your subject or post read "People who got turned into animals in their respective games" or "Time travelers and keeping the space/time continuum intact."

Respond to other people and support them through their trials and tribulations.

NOTE: While you're welcome to post whatever the hell you want, if you delve into triggery whatnot (i.e. abuse, suicide, things which tend to actually evoke real life support groups and therapy) please label your posts with a nice and blatant warning so someone who was looking for Time Travelers Anonymous doesn't accidentally stumble into your suicide thread instead.

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[He won't budge at the shoving, but he does lean his face down right alongside Q's.]

Don't forget that I do know exactly what it feels like. That mere words in any language can't accurately describe it. No need to be so violent, darling. Do you want to make a scene?

[He didn't really expect him to (see again: not a fighter), and he goes rigid when Silva bends even closer. Don't show fear, he reminds himself; he's shown enough already. He forces himself to relax, slowly. He still can't look at Silva when he answers, though.] How could I forget?

[It's really quite interesting; Silva's got the vague niggling feeling that they aren't actually on the same page. He certainly doesn't pull away, but he shifts to actually look him in the face, lips slightly puckered in thought. There's no reason to ask anything outright yet, so the thoughtful look melts into a small smile.]

Am I making you uncomfortable, hm? Do you need to go running off hiding behind James, or under mother's skirts?

I hardly need to hide behind anyone. [And that reminds him of the strength he does have; he slips his hand into his pocket, around his phone. He has no desire to show his hand just yet, but there's no harm in preparing certain measures in case Silva does anything more openly violent.]

No, just your computers. Just the skills you think you have. And what good are they here and now?

You should learn to relax, darling.

You didn't mock them when I used them to break into your systems. [His hand is tight around the phone, and he pulls a small current of electricity into his hand and keeps it in reserve.]

You broke into my systems? [Don't make him laugh. Too late. It's hearty, and he clicks his tongue.] You must not be remembering things right. It was you who allowed me to break into your precious MI6 systems. Right through the front door, in fact! I really should thank you.

[This is... confusing. And Q's finally putting the pieces together and realizing that something is wrong with this picture. But he still doesn't know quite what and it seems too much like Silva's playing mind games for him to realize it's not.] Before that. Long before that. I hacked your system a long time ago, it was how we met.

[The arm drops from Q's shoulders, and the smile vanishes, all in an instant.]

We've never met face to face, Quartermaster. Nor did we ever meet through any hacking of my systems. No, no, you are very sadly mistaken or delusional.

[Q takes a step back out of arm's reach, now that he can.] We did. You trained me. The training you gave me is the reason I made it into MI6 at my age, let alone Quartermaster.

What kind of game are you playing at, little boy? If you had come to me for a little training, I may have gladly taken up the opportunity to put a mole in MI6 like that. But that's hardly the case.

[Another step back. There's hurt as well as confusion in Q's features before confusion wins out.] You're serious.

[He catches the hurt, files it away. There are pieces to a puzzle here, and he thinks he's starting to put it together.]

So are you... What is this? How can you remember something that never happened?

[Oh, there are theories, in the magical community. Theories of multiple universes far more advanced than what physicists have come up with. Theories of how the world works, and what might happen if timelines crossed. They usually agree that such a crossing would be devastating to reality. The agreement is so unanimous that it doesn't really occur to Q as an option to explain this.]

It did happen. For years, we knew each other, and you trained me--how can you not remember years? [How can you not remember me, is the question he really wants to ask, but he wisely avoids that one.]

[Silva should really use this to his advantage, but how? It's so completely baffling and blindsiding that he's not sure how to spin it. Trained him? If he'd ever had the opportunity, he would have gladly made use of Q, but it's certainly not something that he simply forgot.

It means, too, that there were feelings involved. Strong emotional responses. Someone he loved, wasn't it? The betrayal Q faced...]

You and me, darling? [He tries to put a little emotion into it, as if he means it. Poke at the reaction. Get more information, if he can.]

[Either the words or the tone behind them gets a reaction. It's almost a shudder, and the hurt flicks across his face again.] Well. I don't suppose you ever felt anything.

[Q should really learn to choose his words better. But at this point it's almost a relief to be able to say the words, even if for whatever reason Silva doesn't remember.]

[He closes some of the distance, cautious, tentative. Doesn't reach for him again, this time, though.] Is that what you really believe, though? Truly, honestly believe?

[Yes. He wouldn't have turned on Silva if he didn't. He wouldn't have rejected the only steady presence he'd had in his life since he was seven for anything less than absolute certainty that he didn't care.

But he wants to believe otherwise. Desperately. He shakes his head.] Doesn't matter, does it? You don't remember either way.

No reason not to start fresh. Ah, but some things can't be redone, some pains too deep to simply set aside. This is what it's like for you, I must imagine.

Whatever did I do to hurt you that much?

[Nothing he shouldn't have seen coming. Nothing he'd thought would hurt, not as badly as it did. And it's that fact that makes him feel so foolish for running from Silva at all, that keeps him from admitting it even now. But Silva knows, doesn't he? The fact that he's here means his history isn't that dissimilar to Q's own.]

You know. You must know that. Maybe you don't know why it hurt me, but you must know what you did.

[He has to take a guess. Were their stories so different? Did he hack MI6, in whatever memories Q has? Or was it something very personal, some deep trust broken in some fashion he couldn't possibly fathom?]

Did you start to trust them? [A shot in the dark, and he doesn't like his odds, but he can keep claiming amnesia all the same.] Those who would stab you in the back for no reason at all, were you getting close to them? Were they just like the family you never had?

[Hurt, and more than that shame, are Silva's answer. Q looks away, doesn't say anything aloud. Because Silva is right, and the fact that he is right is why he's had to hide everything from everyone since it happened. Couldn't turn to Silva; couldn't tell MI6 the truth.]

[Ah, so he was right. Lucky, that. There's some slight anger riled up, and it isn't entirely an act for reasons Q might not understand, a heavy breath out his nose and a narrowing of his eyes.]

And I hurt your precious family. What was I, then--passing fancy? Your ticket to where you truly belonged? Why do you think I wanted to hurt her so badly? Why do you think I did any of what I did for fifteen very long years? Hm? Because of what she did to me. Because of how your 'family' and mine as well abandoned me.

Is that what I did to you?

[He does flinch at that. Then he forces himself to look up, to meet Silva's eyes.] Everything. You were everything to me, that's why it hurt when I realized you didn't care. [Answering the first question is easier than the last.]

You are so convinced of that.

[And it's a pain Silva can understand. After all, when he realized what M had done to him, that it was her all along, that she didn't care--that had been the beginning of the end of him. Such devotion thrown aside can shatter a man.

Another sigh, as if starting to release what's inside, pressure valve, and he steps closer, with open arms. If he can salvage this, somehow, then he may have the kind of opportunity he never had before.]

William. [Whatever would he have done without all those MI6 files? Classified? Ha! It makes it easy to get personal sometimes, like with James.] I am sorry for whatever happened between us that drove you away like that. How can you be so sure that I simply did not care at all, hm? What happened, darling, to convince you so?

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And the penny drops.

took 'em long enough

No kidding

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I think this is actually having more effect on Q than if it was 'his' Silva.

I DO LOVE HURTING Q

As do I. I am a horribly evil mun.

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