"Do you normally make-out with the people you're hired to kill? It doesn't strike me as very professional."
"Put the gun down," Gabriel panted, not answering her.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because you're not going to shoot me," Gabriel rep...
*This chapter contains references to abuse. Reader discretion is advised.*
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When Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980, every living thing within 22,000 square miles was obliterated. One area in particular, north of the volcano, was covered in layers upon layers of pumice. Scientists were convinced it would take the sterile, barren terrain decades to show signs of life. So they were shocked when only two years later they spotted a lone flowering plant growing through the volcanic rock: Lupinus Lepidus. Prairie lupine.
Carter had dumped most of the knowledge he acquired before his parents' deaths. He didn't have the seemingly endless storage in his brain that Ash did. But that story and visual stuck with him. A dainty purple flower peeking out of a desolate pumice foundation. A symbol of hope and beauty rising from suffering and destruction. It was a reminder that strength wasn't just measured by brute force, it was also measured by resilience. That even out of the most devastating situations, people, like flowers, could rise.
So he covered everything around him in flowers - his clothes, his walls, his shelves, his notebooks, his instruments. He felt like he had probably gone a little overboard, but always having flowers somewhere near him gave him something to focus on when his anxiety started dragging him under. Though, admittedly, it wasn't as helpful as his medication. But he didn't have a chance to take his nightly dose of Zoloft before they took him, and he was desperate for something to help him manage the stress he was feeling.
Unfortunately, Rin's home was extraordinarily chic in a black and white minimalist way. No live flowers, no pictures of flowers, no floral scents. And Rob had made sure to rip his peony-covered robe off him to avoid the embarrassment of someone seeing the great Henry Wells' son in floral print. It's a good thing he wasn't wearing his rose earrings - they probably would have yanked them straight out of his ears. Or God forbid his poppy-printed skirt. They probably would have set it on fire while Carter was still wearing it.
Carter didn't understand why clothing was perceived as an existential threat by some people. He had spent 12 years under insanely restrictive rules set by his father; there was no way he would escape those rules only to willingly subject himself to arbitrary ones set by society. If he wanted to wear sunflower-printed overalls because they made him calm, comfortable, and happy, he was going to wear them. And anyone who had something to say about it could fuck all the way off.
But now he had none of his usual coping mechanisms to calm him. No flowers, no meds, no instruments, and no familiar faces. And the ever-present anxiety he fought so hard to suppress was already beginning to overwhelm his brain.
Just keep breathing, he told himself. The people he was with seemed safe enough. Carmen had a warmer presence than anyone he had ever met. Levi seemed about as confused and afraid as he was. Rin looked perpetually pissed off, but it clearly wasn't directed at him. Even Gabriel - tall, brooding, and easily the most intimidating person in the room - had a strangely calming energy. Carter didn't trust easily, but he found himself feeling fairly certain none of them would hurt him.
