empathicfault | IC Inbox

Pretty sure I've never teleported into somebody's bedroom because I wanted to take on her sadness. But I... did.

[She remembers that she did. It's so clear in her mind.]

What, uh-- what about you? You said more gaps than you're used to; are you used to some gaps?

[ It takes him a long moment to process that first sentence, because it barely makes sense. Teleported? And by the time he parses it, she's asking him more questions, and-- okay, they'll focus on him for a moment. He breathes out a laugh. ]

Yeah, I- I think I mentioned having encephalitis. There's a lot of lost time during that, and a lot of that time I was with Hannibal. Pretty sure he was messing with me while that happened.

But this is- I don't know where, or when, but there's some parts missing. I'm seeing it as broken pieces missing in a mirror.

[As they chat, she casually peeks at her warden item, checking on where on the ship he is right now.]

What about anything that's there that shouldn't be?

[ He doesn't have an early shift at the kennels today, so he is- thankfully- in his cabin. ]

Uh...[ A pause and a sigh. ] Honestly? It's hard to tell. I've got a lot of shadows in here already, leftovers from people I profiled and bits of people here. Um, let me focus on sense memory-

[ Another pause and then: ]

Well, I've never been to England before, pretty sure. Or fought off tentacle monster aliens...with folk dancing. So I guess that's a yes.

And you haven't been around enough to see more than one breach.

[She murmurs, mulling this over.]

Neither have I. Think we're getting stuff from past breaches that we missed?

Mmmm.

[ He presents himself with that possibility, and starts pacing in his room. It's not the best place to think, but it's probably the best place on the boat. ]

No- no. It doesn't have the right 'flavor' to the emotions. This one wasn't me, not even a different me. Feels more...light. Like a rainbow. Have you- wait, are you getting emotions through yours?

[She pauses before answering - twenty or thirty seconds from her, too.]

Yeah.

[ He waits quietly. All of this internal cataloguing tends to take a while, and he's more aware of that than most. When she confirms it, he blows out his entire breath in a sigh. ]

That's got to be strange, for you. Okay, so they're other people's, probably. So this small-town England one...

[ He trails off, sitting down and absently patting Winston's head as he replays it again. ]

Ah- Iris. It's Iris. Or it was Iris. I ended up testing out her touch telepathy- might be more like a supernatural empathy, actually. She felt like this, then.

Okay...okay.

[ He's trying to reassure himself- they have something here. They can figure it out. ]

Oh, god.

[She groans, kneading her forehead over on her end of the line.]

Fighting aliens with folk dancing - of course that was Iris.

Is it worse literally being in their heads, or doing your empathy thing?

Well. So far, all I've got to compare is Iris, and she's- she's not bad, either way. Her ability is more controlled, but- it's stronger than what I do. More raw, more direct.

[ If she wanted, Iris could do so much damage with it. He doesn't say that. ]

So you're mostly... losing stuff.

I can't really tell what I've lost. There's some gaps, but I don't know how much of that is just-- me.

Not...necessarily. I know how to look for missing memories, but I have so many times I've put myself in someone else's shoes, that have formed memories of their own- it'll take me some time to see if anything's been added.

You should be able to pick out the, uh, emotional memories, a little easier, I'd think. You already had gaps, though?

There was this whole... thing I went through at home. It left a lot of my brain kinda screwy.

[Truthfully, false memories and missing time aren't nearly as big an issue as she worries they might be - but the concern is still there regardless.]

Oh, the...simulations. Damn. Right.

[ Will takes a break to rub his face and sigh, deeply. ]

All right. What can we do? I'd like to know what I've got, so I can have an idea of how different I might be now.

[ Not that it might matter. They might not be able to do anything about it. ]

You think it'll all go back, after the Flood? Don't know if I can just...wait it out. [ But maybe it's an option. ]

You try going through your life, from beginning to end? It's not exactly an efficient method, and you could still miss stuff, but that should help you catch the big things.

Yeah. [ Small sigh. ] It's the big things I'm more worried about. Things that could change who I am. I have enough issues getting 'pieces' of other people, already, I don't need to be...diluted.

But I'll probably work backwards. Maybe...sections of two or three years.

We could try going by topic, too. You remember the encephalitis. You remember Hannibal; you remember that he was using the encephalitis as an excuse to mess with you. What else do you remember about Hannibal messing with you? Is there anything that feels only half-remembered or out of place, like there's a piece missing to the story?

Okay, well-

[ He laughs, and it sounds just a little manic. ]

Hannibal's entire wheelhouse is 'messing with people,' me especially. The only times he wasn't, I was messing with him. I still know that much, at least. But let me think. There was a lot of back and forth...

[ He plays through significant times for them both. He's watching for leaps in emotions, instead of the watercolor-type smear from one to another he's used to. Usually, that's indicative of him glomming onto someone else's feelings, but now there's more to look for. He's quiet for a full minute, and then there's a sharp intake of breath. ]

Oh. Well. That's awkward.

You find something missing?

[ He considers lying, but there's not much point. It's not like anyone's working with a full deck here. He doesn't know what might be important. ]

Yeah, I- [ He breathes out. ] We were working a case. Maulings. One of Hannibal's patients looked like a good fit for it, but- he got through an interview just fine. Once I got home, one of the dogs was crying outside- Buster. I thought there was maybe a coyote, but--

And then I'm setting Hannibal's dead patient on his dining room table. My knuckles are bloody. That was Randall Tier, I think.

How far away is his house from yours?

[It might seem like a meaningless bit of information, but she's trying to narrow down timeframes here, and whether one of the things he's missing is the duration of a five-minute drive versus a two-hour drive makes a big difference.]

[ It's not the question he expects, but he can tell what she's getting at. ]

That's an hour's drive. At least. It was late, so probably not much traffic. But it would've taken me some time to move the body. So probably about an hour and a half, total?

Do you remember if your knuckles hurt? Were they split open?

Oh, yeah. They were a mess. Hannibal bandaged them up for me. I was- I'd been trying to get him to trust me. He's so careful, it was the only way to catch him. So I just...told him we were even. No hard feelings about the attempted murder-by-proxy.

[ He's mildly uncomfortable, saying it. But he's not sure why- he clearly went forward with that plan. ]

Think that's why you brought the perp's body to him?

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