goneawayworld | 3..2...1...CONTACT!

Entry tags:

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

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.]]

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[ 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.

[ 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.

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.

[ 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?

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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? ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

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. ]

[ He nods, turns facing forward again, blinks, clears his throat. ]

Okay. You're right.

[ He breathes slowly through his nose. One breath, two. Another. Again. ]

Tell me about it again. How it happened.

[ God. Fuck. Okay. ]

Okay. Okay.

[ She lifts her head, but doesn’t tuck the small veil of hair between her and him behind her ear just yet. Her eyes settle dead ahead on the younger South, still sitting there with wet eyes of her own, full of hurt and rage at a world that would wear her down relentlessly over the next two decades in ways she didn’t really understand, that day. Back then, the idea of ever hurting her brother would have been ridiculous; if that kid could hear this, hear everything she went on to be...

The little girl wipes her eyes. South bites her tongue. ]

I knew the Meta would be coming for us one day. Command kept me updated on its whereabouts, who it attacked and when. I knew that it’d catch up to us eventually and I knew when it did, it wouldn’t stop until it got what it wanted. Everyone else it attacked for an AI died, but they were alone, and...

[ Breathe. ]

I thought that maybe, if I let it take Theta, then caught it by surprise, we’d be able to hold our ground enough to escape. It wouldn’t chase us if it already had Theta and— and I’d finally have you back. I wouldn’t be playing fuckin’ second fiddle to an AI anymore. We could leave together.

So when it came... I waited. I— I didn’t expect it so soon, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? I’d have done the same thing even if I’d had longer to plan.

I just... I stood there, around the corner, just waiting. I heard every goddamn time you yelled for me and I said nothing, did nothing.

[ For a brief second, there’s a flash of North’s voice in the air, him calling for South, saying he needs help, asking if she’s okay, but South grits her teeth and cuts it off. Forces the memory to stay where it is.

She’s not watching it again, especially not with him. Nope. ]

[ He takes it in, taking in the small details he'd not known about, or ignored the implications of, bowing his head slightly. When she finishes, he looks out at the small version of her, the one who had just learned people were always comparing the two of them in their heads. And he sighs then—a long, weary sigh. ]

Okay. I guess I needed to hear that.

[ He blinks and gazes outward for a bit, starting to retreat into his own thoughts. ]

I guess the best thing now would be...for me to have some space. Me and Theta.

[ She nods, weakly. Buries her face back in her knees, her arms circled tight around them.

She could say, again, how she never wanted him to die; but what’s the point? He did die. She failed to save him, because she was the reason he was in that position in the first place. Saying it again feels like it’d be another manipulation, because it doesn’t matter. Intentions don’t matter when the actions themselves are so completely irredeemable. ]

Are you actually gonna use that time to think, this time? Because you said that before, then when we talked again, this all started.

[ He lets out a stressed exhale, not quite a snort, insulted for the moment.

But, really, she's right. That's what he did. ]

I have to, don't I.

[ It comes out dry, low—almost sarcastic. It's not a tone he affects often.

He immediately feels bad and is quick to add in a warmer tone: ]

Look, I...I just have to sit with it and...do my best.

[ She flinches, again, where he can’t see her face. ]

...you’re allowed to be angry with me, you know.

[ She hugs her knees even tighter. ]

Yes, you have to think about it. You have to fuckin’ deal with it, because— because even if that’s not me, anymore, even if I would never do that again, that was me. That happened.

A-And— and if, when you do, you realise that... that you need me to leave you alone, that I need to stay away, then you have to tell me. You can’t just pretend.

I'm allowed.

[ It comes out low—half statement he's trying to convince himself is true, half question. ]

I mean, of course I'm allowed, it's just that...

[ He pauses, shakes his head slowly. ]

We already don't really talk to mom and dad. You know it's not just because we were on the run.

[ He closes his hands into loose balls, running a forefinger against each thumbnail. ]

I didn't want to lose you, too.

[ Her shoulders shake a little before she forces them to still again, swallows back the fresh tears that spring to her eyes. She tries not to read too much into ‘didn’t’, but she can’t quite ignore the past tense even as she tries. ]

I-I know.

[ He’s all she has. He’s all she’d had for years, really. Sometimes she’s not even sure she’d have survived their teenage years without him, even if his existence was the cause of so many of her problems. And yet none of that stopped her making the worst mistake of her life. ]

I-I’m not— I’m not going anywhere if you don’t need me to [ not want, need ] but you— you have to make that choice. You have to let yourself make that choice. Be angry, be hurt, be— be honest.

Okay.

[ That one is a whisper.

He slowly, carefully stands. ]

I'll let you know when I want to talk again.

[ With that he heads over to the little girl. They're not really here together, not in the same plane of existence, but he bends and presses an air-kiss where her forehead sits. ]

[ South lifts her head part-way when she feels him moving, just enough to barely peek over her knees. Watches him walk over to her younger self, watches what he does, then buries her face firmly back in her knees before he can tell she’s watching at all. It takes all of her strength not to just burst into sobs.

It’s all over, isn’t it? She has to let him make the choice, she has to deal with the consequences of what she’s done, but it hurts. It hurts more than anything else could ever hurt. ]

I-I love you, Drew.

[ It’s muffled, weak, strained. She doesn’t expect a response, but she has to say it anyway. She loves him and she’s sorry, but neither of those things can change what happened. Neither of those things can turn her back into the person who would never have hurt her brother in a million years. ]

[ Because of her efforts, when he turns, he doesn't see any sign that she'd witnessed the kiss. That's fine, and he doesn't say anything to clue her in when he returns.

As he passes by her, he doesn't respond to her words, just gives her a pat on the head and light ruffle of the hair before he goes on through and leaves the room. ]

[ That does it. She barely holds it together until he walks out the door before she breaks, tears streaming freely down her face, salt tainting her tongue as she lifts her head to gasp for air as pitiful, all-consuming sobs follow. Her fingers tangle into her own hair, tugging at the roots.

It’s an all too familiar rush of emotion. The memory shifts to the inside of a shitty motel, leaving North out in a different hallway than he walked into and South curled up on the floor of a twin room, back against the door, still sobbing. ]

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