IC Inbox

[empathicfault]

"Will Graham here. Leave a message."

[Open for text/audio/action/whatever.]

Comments

[empathicfault]

He didn't graduate, which is not a surprise. He was here about ten months. Fairly quiet, after his three-person sounder. He knew he'd only get one feast.

[ He's quiet on the line for possibly too long. When he speaks again, his breath has the catch of someone who got caught dozing. ]

I held onto the link for his network post when he finally 'revealed' himself, so to speak. If you want to see it.

[cactusy]

Yeah, actually, I would.

When did you find all this out?

[empathicfault]

[ He texts the link over. ]

About a week ago. I'd been looking into the network, curious how far back it went and worried about this- this, exactly. Only got a couple years back before I gave up and talked to Iris.

[cactusy]

So it's been a week since you lost a big long-term goal of yours. How've you been doing with that?

[empathicfault]

I've been better. Iris helped...soften things, some. And then I got drunk with Harkin. Talked to Malcolm some. And now I'm talking to you.

I don't know what I intended to get out of all of that. I hadn't even decided that was what I really wanted to do, get a Deal for Abigail. But it was sort of at the back of my mind. Now there's confirmation that there's nothing I can do to help. This sort of loss, it feels...familiar.

[cactusy]

Yeah? Not your first time?

[empathicfault]

I've watched Abigail get her throat cut twice, now.

This? It's a gentle reminder that I should stop pretending that I could be her Dad.

[cactusy]

How old is she?

[empathicfault]

Nineteen. Old enough to figure herself out on her own.

Still young enough that she shouldn't have had to, though. I don't know when her father started hunting with her- fifteen, sixteen? Probably sometime around there. She often seemed more that age.

[cactusy]

All kids fly the nest eventually. Even if she ended up somewhere else - my guess? You weren't nothing to her. What you did for her wasn't nothing.

[empathicfault]

I-

[ He doesn't want to talk about her. Not anymore. It hurts. He tries his best to picture her, older, talking with another woman. Smiling, happy. And not pierced through with antlers and hung up on a mounted display. That vision is still so strong, even with being a false memory. ]

I think I only made things worse. Or- me and Hannibal- between the two of us. We definitely made things worse. It's just. Sometimes you have to stop trying to fix things.

Especially when she figured it out on her own. I am glad, for that.

[cactusy]

Mm, giving a crap always makes a difference.

[She pauses, then clarifies--]

It isn't always enough. It definitely doesn't always fix things. And yeah, sometimes it makes stuff worse. But if there's one thing I've learned from my current job; from my team at home - it still matters when you try.

If you were there, and trying, and she knew it? It meant something.

[Another pause.]

Don't beat yourself up about it, is what I'm saying.

[empathicfault]

[ He's quiet on the other side of the line for a very long time, just thinking it through, agreeing, and trying to convince the part of him that's not logical of the same thing.

At least he cared. It feels like a pretty shitty consolation prize, if he's honest. But hopefully it meant something to Abigail. ]

Yeah. Okay.

Thanks.