changeit | 02 ☢ hits you so much harder than you thought

spam } snafu

[He doesn't know whether to be grateful or worried that he got paired up so quickly. It's something to distract him from Simon, at least - Simon being here and being Simon all over everyone. It isn't that he's not happy to see him, it's just that - well. Politics make things complicated, and Simon wears politics like one of his bulky sweaters.]

[Snafu, he thinks, is not much for politics. Snafu, he thinks, is very simple while being very complicated all at one time. Snafu is going to be trouble.]

[This was something he knew already, but reading the file makes it certain. Never mind the fact that on reading it he feels a little dirty, as if he's become privy to someone's worst, darkest secrets. Which is more or less the case. Made worse by the fact that he doesn't think Snafu will care that he knows.]

[In the end, after a few hours of lying in bed thinking about too many things all at once, he decides to just get it over with. Sits in the mirror and carefully removes the mousse, because there's nothing worse than being caught in an in-between state. His anxiety is at an all-time high, his heart would be palpitating if it could, and now he's walking to Snafu's door. He can feel how pale he is, see the white of his eyes as other people can see them. But he doesn't stop until he's knocking.]

voice } gene

Hiya. I have to ask you something.

[It's not a nice something, exactly, but it's. He just has to ask it, all right.]

spam } enclosure

[After meeting with Snaf - a mixed bag, as he expects these meetings might be for a while - he wants to walk. To be alone, or as alone as he can be in a place like this, but to be outside, too - as outside as you can be indoors. The obvious solution to this is programming a wide, empty field with sparse treeline in the distance into the Enclosure and go for a long walk.]

[His gait is still not quite steady, his skin deathly pale, eyes dead white. But he's smiling in the face of the wind, even if this place isn't natural and he knows it.]

text } admiral

Dear Admiral,

You could've just asked.

For Steve, charcoal pencils of different softness. Pastels, in case he likes them.
For Eugene, foods he's used to. Some little figurine landmarks of Mobile, Alabama. A picture of what it looks like now.
For Snafu, his favorite cigarettes. Foods he's used to. Hand sanitizer.
For T'Pol, something to do with her hands. A stress ball? Sweaters.
For Philip, that board game we made.
For Chromie, book repair equipment. A nice sweater that fits well, plain with bulky knit. Forest green.
For Simon, two Bibles, one antique one, a nice one, gilt and all, one to mark up. I'll make the other part of his gift myself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He'll think of that part later, and it will. It definitely will. Right now, he's too furious to think it all through: all he sees is people like them trapped here now, himself on the wrong side of the cage.]

He knew I wouldn't have come if he'd told me. He knew. He had to've.

[And knowing now, he's not even sure he can stay. He stares down at the paper in his hand, then out over the moor, shaking his head.]

He had to've.

[Kieren feels helpless to do anything but echo - but give Simon's words back to him, but be a sounding board for his rage. Just because they don't always agree doesn't mean this doesn't hurt him. There was no reason for this lie. There are already too many wardens here. It didn't have to be Simon. It didn't have to be a lie.]

[Hesitantly, he rests his hand on Simon's shoulder, just to show he's there. That he's not going anywhere.]

[He takes a quick, deep breath and looks over at Kieren, at the hand on his shoulder. A whole series of emotions passes across his eyes in the space of a few blinks: anger, resentment, gratitude, warmth. Uncertainty. He might not have come if he'd known, but can he really leave now that he does?]

You stayed.

[It's not a question, obviously, because the answer is obvious. It sounds a little like an accusation -- he can't help it. He frowns and tries to soften his tone.]

You decided to stay. Why?

[He gives Simon a shocked look. The answer ought to be obvious. It should be. Even to Simon, even right now. Besides the fact that they don't see eye to eye on this, besides that, the one thing that they do agree unequivocally on--]

Amy.

[He actually retreats a little beneath the astonished betrayal in Kieren's eyes, looking away, echoing her name like the mantra it's sort of become.]

Amy.

[But Kieren has to know that he didn't just forget her, that it's not that he doesn't want the same thing. Of course he does. Kieren might have been her BDFF, but she was Simon's, too.]

There could be another way.

Yeah. There could be.

[He looks away, too, not quite willing to look at Simon in this moment.]

If you find it, let me know.

[There are times that Kieren, for all his compassion and vulnerability, for all the warmth that draws Simon to him like a moth to flame, can be surprisingly cruel. The dismissal implicit in the words cut more than a knife would now. His stomach flips, but he forces himself to stay calm, even though it's just one more voice in the cacophony currently going on inside his head.

He's quiet for a long moment, trying to pick through all the noise. Warden, inmates, undead and living and living dead, him and Amy and Kieren and the Redeemed back home, the ULA... it's a huge mess, when he pulls back and looks at it again now. At the time, it had seemed fairly simple: do a job for a while, guard over someone, get the Rising he'd wanted and none of the loss he hadn't. In retrospect, though, why should it have been any easier than the Give Back scheme, or any other false promise? Why hadn't he questioned it more?

Because it had been important. That important.

He presses his lips to a thin line, then dares a glance back over at Kieren.]

Anything else you think I need to know about?

[He glances at Simon, his expression flat, unreadable. His stomach is trying to turn itself into a knot. He doesn't know whether he's angry or sad or just tired. He wants to leave.]

No. But. But if there's anything that I think of.

[He shrugs. He'll let Simon know.]

[Simon doesn't know how he feels, either; but the flatness in Kieren's tone rubs against something raw in him, like something scratching against his half-exposed spine.]

Mm.

[He takes a slow breath and lets it out, then turns away, shoving his hands into his deep coat pockets. The pamphlet goes with them, still balled up in his fist. He starts moving up the moor again, not fast enough that Kieren couldn't easily catch up, but... away from this. This maelstrom of a moment, this clash that has him all wound up the wrong way.]

02 ☢ hits you so much harder than you thought

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