empathicfault | IC Inbox

I've been worse. You're responding, that's more than I expected.

[ He's not leaving, not unless she orders him to. For Will, his respect isn't earned through seeming put-together, not even through not falling apart. His respect is earned with cleverness and kindness and determination, and Shaw's had it for a while now.

He brings both glasses over to her bed and sits on the floor, cross-legged next to Winston. ]

Let me know when you can sit up. The dogs'll get out of your way.

Graham--

[There's a warning edge to her tone, though still based on concern for him, not anger towards him. But then she isn't sure how to follow that up, so she just sighs heavily and hauls herself into a half-seated position, her eyes glassy and focused on the floor rather than on him.]

You were concerned about Neal. Do you want to see...?

[She gestures vaguely at her communicator, lying on the mattress near her elbow and open to the post in question.]

Will raises his eyebrows at her tone, but it's questioning rather than challenging. She doesn't say anything beyond that, though, and he nods when she offers to let him see. He takes the tablet, but before he starts reading, he holds out one of the glasses. ]

Thanks. Hold this? Just...to feel the cold and condensation. Maybe drink some if you can.

[ He might be pushing too hard, but it helps him when he's drifting. Regardless how she reacts (he'll accept whatever), he'll start reading, and snickers at the term 'free-range assholes'. ]

This place is a mess.

[Is her sum-up of the memory situation. She takes the glass, staring into it listlessly. ]

He might be okay, though. You know how Malcolm's taking it?

[ Yeah, reading further into the post gives Will the needed context on just how bad the situation is. Sometimes people just lose all memory of this place, huh? Awesome. Great. He lets out a small sigh. ]

No. I haven't tried to contact him yet. I'm sure he's still in the middle of trying to handle it. Neal sounded...almost aggressive, in his post. Some time had passed, I think.

[ Will takes a sip of his own drink and rubs his chin, reading through the rest. ]

-wait, people are still missing memories from the flood?

Guess so.

[She feels the anxiety as a sharp ache in her stomach, and she takes a little sip of her own Coke, then sets the cup on the floor. Settling back down on her mattress, she curls onto her side, idly stroking whichever dog is nearest to hand.]

You think you're missing anything still?

I-

[ He swallows his own anxiety down, realizing suddenly that he's really not helping right now. He shakes his head. ]

If I do, I don't think it's anything important. There's no noticeable gaps, no changes in behavior. So- probably just whatever Hannibal smudged out of my brain.

[ The dogs, at least, are doing their part. Winston has gotten up on the bed to settle next to Shaw, being the Dog to Pet for the moment. Jet looks happy enough to lean against her leg. ]

You okay.

[She asks it dully, but she rolls over a little so that she can scan her eyes over his face.]

I'm okay.

[ He looks her in the eye, letting her scan him. He doesn't want to make it harder on her to do her job, especially while she's rather disconnected. He really is all right, just mildly concerned. ]

Just...surprised. Afte all the times I'd heard that floods set everything right when they were done...

[ He rolls his eyes. ]

Makes me glad I went through so much effort to sort it out, though.

Everybody does say floods are supposed to do that. Kinda makes me wonder if someone's messing with this guy and using the flood as a smokescreen. To be honest--

[She pauses, flexing her fingers.]

I'd prefer that to the alternative.

The first alternative is that our fellow shipmates don't know what they're talking about. And floods are mechanically different than they expected.

[ He sighs a little. ]

But yeah, I'd prefer it to the other one, too.

Nobody here knows what they're talking about.

[She mutters it under her breath, turning her face to press it into the pillow again, her Coke still sitting forgotten next to the mattress.]

Look, I want you to know, I can still-- I'm not going to let this stop me from doing my job. Any of this. Okay?

Of course not.

[ It's not even a question in his mind. He smiles a bit. Even with being in such bad shape, she's worried about him. And her job, yes, but her job is also him. ]

You'd have to be dead. Or stay dead, I suppose. Listen- this whole thing is nuts, I know that we're fighting confusing odds. But I also know how stubborn you are.

But...take a break. You seem like you need it. Me and Winston and Jet'll be here when you get back. I'll let you know if anything else tilts reality while you're gone.

[ The dogs are already arranging themselves around her, getting settled in for some sleep. Will sips at his own Coke. ]

Simulations make me tired. Even if it's just the idea of them.

[And the jury's still out on if that's what's going on here. Closing her eyes, she drapes her arm around the nearest dog, letting her fingers sink into fur.]

Thanks.

No problem.

[ Will gets himself comfortable, leaning against the wall on the floor. And he'll let himself drift, too- not enough to really be out of it, but enough to go fishing a bit. He doesn't know if his presence will help when she's up again, but he doesn't think it'd hurt. Besides, he can do this for hours.

So he'll be in much the same position when she wakes up, most likely. ]

[Shaw doesn't sleep deeply: it's not that kind of tiredness. Her body doesn't need rest, but her mind needs to escape for a while; needs to leave the Barge and go somewhere else, if only in her imagination. Still, there's a part of her that's always aware of where she really is, and what's going on around her - and that part of her knows that for the hours that she drifts, Will stays put. She doesn't even hear his communicator being pulled out.]

What do you do?

[She croaks out, speaking for the first time in three hours.]

[ He usually closes his eyes- he doesn't this time. He figures Shaw probably won't be as creeped out as most. And she still has to deal with him, even if she is. But it helps snap him out of it faster. He still only catches about half of the sentence, with it being so sudden. ]

I went fishing. I might've mentioned, but I have a pretty good imagination. I can keep myself occupied.

[ The dogs have stayed put, too, but they're currently snoozing. ]

Me, too.

[She whispers, flexing her fingers lightly in Jet's fur.]

Was it nice? You catch anything?

A largemouth bass and a couple of rainbow trout. And I saw a few deer.

[ It was a nice scenario he set up for himself, surprisingly unspoiled by anything darker today. It happens occasionally. ]

Are you always alone?

[If she had to guess, she'd guess that he would be - that or, maybe, he'd imagine himself with people, but with his own mind quiet and unaffected by their bleedover.]

Sometimes I bring the dogs with me. But they usually scare away the fish, so that's more if I feel like walking through the woods.

[ So yes, alone enough. ]

I told you about the playground from when I was a kid, right? The one with the merry-go-round where I tried to train myself out of motion sickness? I go there a lot. When I was in captivity, it was a good reminder to be, uh...

[She swallows, shrugging a shoulder.]

A reminder that I could stick with it, I guess. Not give up.

Yeah.

[ A vague smile appears on his face. ]

Sounds like a good place to center yourself...remind you what you're about.

It was the first time the tactic actually worked.

[She admits quietly, twisting her fingers into her pillowcase.]

Where'd you pick it up? Is it self-taught?

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