I've never had the same name in a breach, though I remember some people did. I think that would be more unsettling. Harder to separate it from yourself.
This time I was called Noah Walker. Raylan was my older brother Mason. He raised me after our parents were killed by the disease. I've never been the younger brother before. It was an interesting perspective that I'm sure my sister would gloat about.
I expect you'll gather a Barge family before too long. Maybe we can be that for you. I miss my family back home but... I've been making friends here. Slowly but surely.
[ He looks mildly hopeful and then suddenly frowns. He doesn't voice what just popped into his head. At the very least, his shaking seems to be dying down. ]
Seems like that happens around here, a lot. Maybe it's a case of all the misfits and outcasts being thrown together, finding like minds.
It's not what I expected, considering the inmate and warden dynamic. I thought it'd be a lot more...antagonistic.
It wasn't what I was expecting either. When I agreed to come here, I thought I was taking on another sort of... law enforcement-esque position but. It hasn't really been like that. At first I was a bit horrified that there wasn't even a comprehensive code of conduct or set of rules. Like. Ask two different people and they can't even agree that murder is necessarily wrong. But I guess you learn to work inside this... non-system in time.
I can imagine it's more jarring for the wardens than the inmates. All of us are in dire situations, after all. Almost anything's better than being dead.
[ He coughs a little and wipes his face. It's honestly kind of nice that it's just sweaty and not bloodstained. ]
Maybe the idea is to get more individualized help this way. No system, just people that'll actually help each other in each other's vicinity. It's...chaotic, but I don't hate it.
Intimidating. I wasn't sure how to fit in or what I was supposed to do here. It didn't help that some people recognized me from some other ship they collided with just before I got here. I don't have any memory of being there, but I'm told I worked there. It was some kind of mental hospital.
[ He doesn't really mean to, but slides further down to rest his head on one of the arms of the chair. Now that he's calmed down, he's pretty exhausted. ]
[Malcolm doesn't disturb him. He slips out of the room, makes the tea, fills a thermos and brings it back to Will's cabin. He pours a cup and puts it within Will's reach. It's hibiscus, cherry and rosehip. It smells like fruit and flowers and is full of vitamin C.]
[ Will is half-asleep by the time Malcolm comes back and slowly blinks his eyes back open when Malcolm returns. He lets the blanket slip from his shoulders as he leans forward to take it. ]
Smells good...thank you.
[ He takes a sip and makes an appreciative 'mmm' noise. ]
This is a ways from the pine tree tea I remember having last.
Doesn’t sound delicious. Does sound nutritious. I always have a selection of herbal teas on hand, if you’re in the mood for one. I only drink caffeine first thing in the morning.
[He’s not offended; he laughs concession.] Now you sound like my doctor.
[The observation sobers his expression again, but he’s pleased.]
That’s good! Do you want to talk through any more of it, or can I offer something in a distraction? For example: both breaches I’ve been someone pretty well adjusted and I felt calmer unmedicated than real me does on a heavy daily dose of sedatives: discuss.
[ That gets a laugh- almost a giggle- out of Will. None of the many psychiatrists he worked with would ever get so blunt. But he really likes it. After all, he knows a lot of the 'tricks of the trade', so to speak. ]
Hmmm...I think if we talk around it some, observe it from the outside, it'll help ground me a bit. So sure.
[ He'd go with the offered topic. ]
I'm assuming, on your end, that both of your breach selves didn't have to deal with any murderous version of your father. If so, the cPTSD is likely gone, and- from what I'd been reading, that changes all sorts of things in the body. So yeah, I'm not surprised.
For me, instead of a semi-neglectful father, I had a protective brother. But I also didn't go through any of the...targeted abuse I had the past five years or so, and mental health care was pretty much nonexistent, so- [ He shrugs. ] It was kind of a wash. I felt...delicate, at the time.
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[ And now he's curious. ]
What name did you have?
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I, uh. I never had family like that, before. Harkin took care of me.
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Seems like that happens around here, a lot. Maybe it's a case of all the misfits and outcasts being thrown together, finding like minds.
It's not what I expected, considering the inmate and warden dynamic. I thought it'd be a lot more...antagonistic.
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It wasn't what I was expecting either. When I agreed to come here, I thought I was taking on another sort of... law enforcement-esque position but. It hasn't really been like that. At first I was a bit horrified that there wasn't even a comprehensive code of conduct or set of rules. Like. Ask two different people and they can't even agree that murder is necessarily wrong. But I guess you learn to work inside this... non-system in time.
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[ He coughs a little and wipes his face. It's honestly kind of nice that it's just sweaty and not bloodstained. ]
Maybe the idea is to get more individualized help this way. No system, just people that'll actually help each other in each other's vicinity. It's...chaotic, but I don't hate it.
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How was it before you figured that out, though?
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Glad I missed that one. I didn't know there were other ships out there.
[ He's about to ask about details when he realizes he's not shaking at all, anymore. He takes a deep breath and it doesn't hitch. ]
Were you distracting me on purpose, or was that just going off on a tangent?
[ He'd believe either, considering the two of them. ]
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[He studies Will for a moment.]
Do you want something to eat? Or drink?
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[ It turned out there were worse ways to consume the human animal than through Hannibal's gourmet cooking. ]
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Think I could do that. Thanks.
[ He doesn't really mean to, but slides further down to rest his head on one of the arms of the chair. Now that he's calmed down, he's pretty exhausted. ]
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Smells good...thank you.
[ He takes a sip and makes an appreciative 'mmm' noise. ]
This is a ways from the pine tree tea I remember having last.
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[ It's an easy joke. He's pretty sure Malcolm well understands anything he puts in his body. ]
I'm feeling...like I can at least identify some edges, now. Differences to notice, if that makes any sense.
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[The observation sobers his expression again, but he’s pleased.]
That’s good! Do you want to talk through any more of it, or can I offer something in a distraction? For example: both breaches I’ve been someone pretty well adjusted and I felt calmer unmedicated than real me does on a heavy daily dose of sedatives: discuss.
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Hmmm...I think if we talk around it some, observe it from the outside, it'll help ground me a bit. So sure.
[ He'd go with the offered topic. ]
I'm assuming, on your end, that both of your breach selves didn't have to deal with any murderous version of your father. If so, the cPTSD is likely gone, and- from what I'd been reading, that changes all sorts of things in the body. So yeah, I'm not surprised.
For me, instead of a semi-neglectful father, I had a protective brother. But I also didn't go through any of the...targeted abuse I had the past five years or so, and mental health care was pretty much nonexistent, so- [ He shrugs. ] It was kind of a wash. I felt...delicate, at the time.
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[ His smile is soft and genuine, but he does have to pause for a moment to remember to say the 'right' name. ]
Think you said his name was Sweeney? The one I drank with, during the last flood. Right after I got here.
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