DC Headcanon's 6: Sparkle Sparkle!

Breaking Through the Smog

dissociation tw

depersonalization tw

An alternative from yesterdays angst, with the same sorta premise 

DC blankly stared at the TV in front of him, playing some kind of sports game. Someone, they identified themselves as Massachusetts, sat next to him, sipping his coffee and occasionally peeking a glance over at DC to make sure he didn't look distressed. DC just continued looking at the TV, the blurry shapes on the screen not making any sense to him as they moved around. He tried to remain grounded, he tried to remain present, this was real, he was real, this was real life. DC closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, using a technique his....sister....he had a sister...taught him. As he breathed in and out, DC's ears perked to a new voice coming from the other side of the couch. The voice was deeper, had more of a twang to it, it sounded familiar but DC couldn't place it.

The fed re-opened his eyes just as Massachusetts stood up, and almost instantly was replaced by a new person. DC's breath caught, was this not real? Was Massachusetts not real? His breathing came hard and fast, and the new person gently spoke.

"Dee, Dee it's okay." The person whispered. The voice, it sounded so familiar, so gravely, like the person was from the deep south. It reminded him of an old fashioned farmhouse, stuck in the woods with a grove in the back and animals in the front. DC's breathing slowed again.

"Dee....do you know who I am?" The person asked. If DC was in the right mind, he'd be annoyed by the question. Everyday all DC heard was 'do you remember me', and the answer was usually no. He could, in a small part of his brain, remember faces and voices, but not who was speaking to him. He was aggravated at himself, and the others, he just wanted to remember. DC shook his head.

The person's eyes swam, and DC instantly felt bad. The person reminded him of a tall farmer, shiny playful eyes always ready to play, who taught him how to hold a rifle, and care for farm animals. The name was on the tip of his tongue as he struggled to remember; he could see the house, he could see the living room, he could hear someone cooking something in the kitchen and his papa on the floor with him and....what was his name again? Wait, papa....

DC's eyes shone with recognition as he looked at the person's face, searching for any doubt that it was him, but all he found were memories, fishing, playing, getting held in his arms.

"Papa?" DC whispered. In the back of his brain, he knew secretly that wasn't fully who this person was, but papa just smiled wildly, eyes still shiny but from happy tears.

"That's right. That's right I'm papa." Papa whispered and DC could tell he wanted to touch him but couldn't. A smaller person tried that when DC recognized Massachusetts, and DC screamed and shoved the person away, the touch feeling like acid against his skin. All papa could do was bring his hand as close to DC as he could, fingers stretching out like they wanted to curl around his and never let go.

"Papa." DC said with a smile as Massachusetts came back. He couldn't make out what papa and Massachusetts were saying, but papa sounded so happy, so close to tears. It was a better feeling then when DC couldn't recognize someone who claimed to be his cousin, said "cousin" saying sadly and whispering 'I know you're in there DC'. DC felt crushed for days after that visit.

Massachusetts replaced papa, and DC could see that papa had gotten up so now, this was still real he was real. DC did a couple more breathing exercises, IDC that was her name, the supposed sister, before feeling himself lean against the couch's arm rest, feeling exhausted from all the remembering. His eyelids slipped closed and the game went away, replaced with total darkness. He'd probably be awoken by another person later, he had these small pills to take and then more remembering. But he remembered someone, he remembered his papa, and that had to mean something.