3..2...1...CONTACT!

[goneawaymod]

Who: The New Hires
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After "Don't Touch That Dial"
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.

Contact.

It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.

The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.

To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?

And if they were there, who was in theirs?

[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or the guest can be experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self. They can talk about the memory with the "guest" that's visiting.

They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people after. Of course, there's also always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up other memories unbidden.]]

Comments

[ownperson]

[ She grits her teeth. Why is he like this, why does he have to do this? ]

You are so—

[ She makes a frustrated noise, then lifts her head and looks at him in the face. ]

Y'know what's left? You being honest with yourself for once in your fucking life. I saw the way you reacted to Wash when he crossed the fucking line in the sand that you probably didn't even realise was fucking there because you're so goddamned blind to your own bullshit that—

[ Deep. Breaths. ]

I. Know. You. I know what you're doing, even if you don't.

[bothbarrels]

[ That does get him to withdraw his hand. He leaves it on the edge of her desk. ]

What do you mean, honest with myself? I didn't like him threatening you. That's all there is to that.

[ownperson]

Seriously? Seriously?

[ Goddammit she should have known it'd never be as simple as getting him to just admit it. She groans, drags her hands over her face. Now the contact's gone, she misses it and she curses herself internally. ]

You were fine with him. You were all buddy-buddy before I came here and after I arrived. He outright threatened to kill me right in front of you, not even an exaggerated threat or anything, the day I arrived, and you didn't react. Because him killing me was all water under the bridge, right? That's what you told yourself and him?

Back in that hell town? I was threatening him right back, none of it meant anything, but you freaked out at him, because you were doing that stupid thing you do where you pretend everything's okay because you don't want to rock the damn boat!

[bothbarrels]

[ He does frown now, raises his hand just enough to prod her in the side once. ]

Stop it.

[ownperson]

You're doing it right now. You're trying to get me to stop talking about this, but you promised me when we said we were going to try and do better that you'd fucking listen when I pointed out the shit you do, too!

[ She swallows. Her hands curl around the edge of the desk, knuckles white. ]

The second I saw you react like you did I just— I knew. It made me remember something I was trying to pretend didn't happen, too. When we talked about Wrath, there was this... this moment, after I said I thought she knew about me letting you die, where you just... you do this thing. You get this weird look and— and then I know there's something you're hiding. I didn't get it, then, probably because I was in fucking denial, too, but—

[ She bites her tongue and breathes. Why does he have to be so impossible? This wasn't how she planned this. God-fucking-dammit. ]

We said we'd be honest with each other. You promised me that, remember? That's the whole point, right? That's what we've been trying to do? Open and honest. Checking each other when we do something stupid. Right?

[bothbarrels]

[ He almost bites his lip, he's so unnerved. He lets out a long exhale through his nose. ]

Look, Nat. Look.

[ And he doesn't say anything after that. He just avoids looking her in the eyes for a moment, then turns his head. ]

[ownperson]

See! You can't even come up with an excuse!

[ She shuffles forward slightly and for once she reaches out and grabs his hand, first, squeezing tight. ]

Drew. Please. You promised me. We promised each other. I've been more open with you than I ever thought I could be, and— and I know I don't deserve it in return, not really, but you promised.

You can't just ignore your way out of this.

[ She's not sure if he'll remember saying that to her, but it's deliberate. ]

[bothbarrels]

[ His head swivels back in her direction, but not all the way—he looks down into his lap, not yet returning the pressure of her hand.

Then a string of familiar words is directed back at him, and now his gaze snaps to her face. He's frowning, and his eyes are clouded. ]

Nat...

[ He presses his lips together. ]

[ownperson]

Please.

[ Her eyes are full of a genuine sense of pleading, of a raw kind of desperation. She squeezes his hand again. ]

You have to face these things. You have to be honest with yourself or you'll never deal with them. You have to be honest with others or how can you ever actually fix things?

We've been by each other's side nearly every day of our goddamned lives. We know each other like no one else does. And I did terrible, unforgivable things. You can't— you can't ignore that. You can't ignore your way through it. You're hurting yourself and me doing it.

[bothbarrels]

[ His eyes widen a bit, sort of involuntarily, since he's trying to avoid tearing up. ]

I don't know how to not— [ he clears his throat ] —not ignore it.

[ownperson]

I know. I know.

[ It's surprisingly gentle, for South. She takes a second to compose herself, to stop her voice from threatening to shake, and gives his hand yet another squeeze. ]

S'like me and getting angry, really, isn't it? We don't— we don't know how to do anything else.

[ She almost blew this, getting angry. She still doesn't know what to do, how to get through a wall that he's built so thick over the years he's learned to do this. ]

I'm gonna ask you a question. And you— you need to answer honestly. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much it's gonna hurt me, okay? Can we try that?

[bothbarrels]

[ He shakes his head, and from the way he suddenly stops himself it's obvious that was involuntary. Then he considers for a moment. ]

I've never hurt you on purpose.

[ownperson]

[ Her head drops, her hair—it's grown out so much longer than she usually lets it get, now—falling to shield her face. Her shoulders threaten to shake but she stills them. Just those words are enough to almost make her cry. ]

...I-I know.

[ She knows. He won't hurt her on purpose even when she hurt him in a way that she can never truly come back from, in a way that he'd be right to never forgive her for. But— ]

But you're hurting me now, even if you don't mean to. Please.

[bothbarrels]

[ Oh, god, he thinks, they're going to be collapsing all over each other weeping and accomplish nothing. ]

I might be doing it on accident but that still doesn't mean I can do it on purpose.

[ownperson]

Is it an accident anymore, if you keep doing it after I've told you you're doing it? Isn't letting it go on deliberate?

[ She squeezes his hand again, raising her head and brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes are a little wet. ]

I can't— I need to know. I need the truth.

[bothbarrels]

[ He's weak to that, the vulnerability of her tears. ]

It might be.

[ He looks forward again. ]

I can't get out of it now, though. Not answering will be the same as answering. I'll have to be honest, won't I?

[ownperson]

[ She swallows again. Her voice is still a little bit thick when she answers. ]

Yeah. Yeah, pretty— pretty much.

I'm sorry, I don't want to trap you I just—

[ Deep breath. She squeezes his hand yet again. Rip the fucking bandaid off. ]

...do you actually forgive me for what I did? And look at me. Please.

[bothbarrels]

[ He does so, the expression on his face going pained and uncomfortable—no, wary. He doesn't want to lie to her, but what she's asked almost makes him feel he'll have to. ]

South...

[ Because that's who she is, when questions of this nature come up. Not Natasha, the girl he'd grown up with—South, the agent who had let him die.

And he can't do it. He can't lie. And neither can he tell the truth. His eyes narrow as they fill with tears. ]

[ownperson]

[ Fuck. ]

...I'm sorry.

[ It doesn't mean anything, she knows it doesn't; she can say sorry a thousand times and mean it more every time but it won't change what she did, it won't change the fact she betrayed him, it won't change the fact that he can't forgive her because why should he? Why should he ever forgive her for that? ]

I-I'm sorry.

[ Tears well up in her eyes, too, but she tries to swipe them away, because she doesn't really deserve to cry, either. She doesn't deserve to feel the hurt that wraps around her chest like it's trying to squeeze the life out of her, the sense of betrayal that curls up in her stomach at the fact he'd let her think otherwise for so fucking long.

She betrayed him. This is nothing. This is nothing. This is what she deserved, in the end. To feel even half of what she inflicted on him.

Her shoulders shake. The hand holding his grips on so tight that it probably hurts before she suddenly lets go. She turns around where she's sat, pulling a leg up under her, and goes to hug him.

She expects to get pushed away. She's prepared for it. She just can't do nothing. ]

[bothbarrels]

[ He doesn't push her away, but he doesn't reel her in, either, just holds as still as he can manage and tries not to outright sob.

This was what it came down to. A simple question and a deferred, but not unknown, answer. Of course he couldn't, didn't, forgive her. Learning of your own death and its betrayal at the hands of your closest kin? It's not bearable except by ignoring the implications, the consequences, of that.

Eventually he leans a head on her arm on one side. ]

I know.

[ That's all he can say, for now, at least addressing the last words she had uttered. ]

[ownperson]

[ She's trembling, no matter how hard she tries to still herself. She can squeeze her eyes shut and swallow down the sobs that threaten to rise up her throat, but she can't help the way she shakes.

She doesn't know what else to say. What else can she say? To ask him, now, if they can keep trying, if they can figure out how to move forward from this, feels selfish. And still, her mouth opens and only closes when doing so releases a choked noise, because she's selfish. She's always been selfish.

Fuck. Fuck.

Her fists curl into the material of his jumpsuit and cling tight, her head dropping to rest lightly against his. She should let go, but she can't bring herself to. Not when this could be the last time she ever gets to hold him like this, because who could blame him if he really did cut her off, this time? Now he's accepted what he refused to accept before?

He's never been able to give up on her, until she did this. Now how can she expect him to do anything but? ]

[bothbarrels]

[ He feels her trembling, feels her clinging, feels all of it, and it does feel like an apology, but it also feels like a desire for them to go back to before he'd allowed this emotion to become clear to her. She was the one who asked, but maybe she hadn't really wanted to know. Maybe she had been in some kind of denial.

The way he had been.

He sets his hands on her upper arms. He really hadn't meant to hurt her, but— ]

I can't lie to you, either.

[ He gently pulls her back. The tears have dropped, making tracks down his cheeks, but he doesn't sound too choked up when he speaks.

It's a carefully measured response. ]

It's just...

[ As she pulls back he drops his hands to the edge of the desk. ]

...I don't know how to.

[ownperson]

[ She flinches, turns her head to hide from the wet trails on his face and to hide her own wet eyes, her whole body still faintly trembling. She pulls her arms in, withdraws. She won’t reach out again, she’s already taken more than she deserves from him.

He can’t lie to her outright and even in that, he’s better at this than her, because she lied to him for so long before she let him die. Fuck. Fuck. ]

...I’m sorry.

[ She flinches again. She needs to stop saying that. Repeating it over and over seems like a manipulation, even if it’s not, even if it’s true, even if it’s all she can muster. ]

I— you— we—

[ Fuck. Her head drops, face hidden behind her hair again, and she lets a couple of tears fall. She takes a deep breath. ]

You never did say it, huh. I just— I just hoped...

[ Stupid, really. Stupid and selfish. ]

[bothbarrels]

[ The next thing he says comes out in a half-whisper. ]

I just didn't want things to be different.

[ Which is exactly what she's trying to address, here, he knows. ]

I thought if I deal with it...maybe things will be different.

[ownperson]

Things are different, Drew. Things— things can’t be the same. No matter what, no matter how— how things go, they can’t— we’re not who we were. I’m not...

[ How did she go from beating up kids who messed with him, from watching his back as they dragged themselves out of the fire alive at the cost of their old squad, to what she did to him? ]

If you don’t deal with these things you— you hurt yourself, even if you don’t know it. Because ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, it doesn’t— it doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything about it, you just hide from it.

[ She brings her knees back up to her chest. Breathes. ]