goneawaycomms | Agent South Dakota

I don't know. I didn't say it because of what just happened. I've been trying to figure out how to address it with you for weeks.

[ A squeeze, then. ]

You know the connection I have with Theta. You've watched it for years.

York and Delta have the same kind of connection. And you don't have that with him.

[ He looks off into the middle distance, thinking, then sighs. ]

If only they'd been willing to give you a chance and assign you one that fit you, you'd understand better. But we know now what they were doing and...and, I don't know. I don't know any way to make it better for you or make it up to you when you do give him up. You're just going to be someone who failed to integrate with her AI.

You have to just, you know. Do it to be nice.

[ She swallows. Her tongue's tied. She considers, again, letting go of his hand, but it's almost the only thing grounding her in that moment. She knew they'd talk about this, eventually; North would never be able to let it lie forever, but she'd hoped... ]

When have I ever been 'nice'.

[ It's not sharp, it's almost... flat. She sighs. ]

We... we talked, about this shit, little after the whole babawhatever. York, and me.

[ The way he's talking about it she's half sure York's already told North, or maybe that's just the way these two talk about their goddamn AI. ]

About... all that stupid shit. Integration, how... I don't know. Said shit about Delta just being... being like a part of his brain, I don't know.

That is correct. York, specifically, described our integration as me being a part of his brain, processing things along with him. I believe that such a description is as accurate as such simple terms can allow for.

[ South all but jumps out of her skin when Delta projects. ]

Jesus fucking—

[ He brings his other hand around to sandwich her hand between both of his. ]

You can always start now.

[ He listens when Delta speaks, watching her as she jumps. ]

You see? Delta misses York, too. And you're so out of sync with him that you jumped when he projected.

[ Her arm tugs, just slightly, against his grip before she relaxes it and lets her hand stay. She feels like it'd be shaking, if he wasn't holding it. ]

Because he lives in a puck! I can't— I can't tell when he's gonna do anything!

[ She huffs, a little. It's not even a good argument, if anything it proves his point. Delta's projected close enough to cast her face in green light and she turns her head away from him. ]

You say 'start now' like— like it's so simple, Drew. You know it's not.

[ He continues to hold onto her hand, since she didn't pull it away. ]

Look, you'd be the first to tell people I'm an asshole, but I know when to do something kind.

Right, because you're the fucking nice one, the one everyone—

[ She physically bites her tongue. She doesn't want to fight with him. She really doesn't, not anymore.

The mess of emotions she's spent half the conversation suppressing have been stirred up again. She swallows, tastes iron. Exhales. ]

It is simple for you. But it isn't for me. I can't just— just—

[ She can't give up, can she? Because then she did everything she did for nothing. ]

[ He notices that she actually bit her tongue. He waits for a moment after she cuts herself off to see if she'll continue, and then, very quietly: ]

Why not?

[ She swallows again, flinches at the iron taste and can't bring herself to look at him. If she looks at his face she'll remember him holding back tears, she'll remember his composure cracking, and goddammit she just wanted to focus on being happy for him and helping him this time, not this. ]

Because— because—

[ It's there on the tip of her bleeding tongue, but it's stuck. She squeezes tight with the hand he's holding. ]

[ What he does next is potentially unexpected—he lowers himself from the chair, without letting go of her hand, to stand on his knees in front of her and try to capture her gaze. ]

What? Tell me.

[ Her breath catches for a second and she wants to look away again but she can't, not now he's there. Her eyes are glistening, slightly, though she's not close to actual tears and there's a little blood on her upper lip and teeth when she opens her mouth, getting caught on the words again but just for a second. ]

Because if I fucking give up then what the fuck did I do any of this for?! Everything I did, everything I—

[ She drops her head. She lets out a shuddering breath. ]

[ He lowers his head to try and remain in her sight. ]

To learn. To learn about yourself, and about what's worth it.

[ She half-chokes on a humourless laugh. ]

Learn what? If I hadn't ended up here I'd— I'd have just kept running until fucking Washington killed me, apparently! I don't learn, I don't—

[ She tries not to look at him, but it's as hard not to as it is to do. She brings her other hand, trembling all the while, to cup the outside of his. ]

The you back there didn't.

[ He doesn't believe in second chances, not in a religious sense, anyway, but... ]

You can do it. You can, I believe in you. You apologized to me, didn't you?

[ If that doesn't show she's capable of change, he doesn't know what would. ]

I— I did, I know, and I meant it, I did, I didn't want... I wouldn't...

[ She squeezes his hands tight, tries to ground herself a little firmer. Her head drops again. A couple of drops of wetness hit their hands. She exhales, slow and deep. ]

I didn't know how to live without you. I never thought I'd—

[ Admitting that hurts, in itself, somewhere inside her. It's like tearing a part of herself open. She needs to be her own person, she needs to be her, but without North nothing made sense anymore. She'd never known a world without him. ]

Yeah.

[ He says it in nearly a whisper, this time giving her the privacy of her bowed head, holding there, waiting. He'll know when to speak again. ]

I didn't— I didn't know what to do, I didn't know who I was, and then our birthday hit and I wasn't even a fucking twin anymore and— and then I was here and you were alive and....

[ She exhales, again, slow and deep but shuddering this time. This has been bottled up for a long, long time and she wants to bite her tongue, hold it in, because it's not the point, none of this is the point, but it spills out anyway. ]

Fuck. Fuck.

[ He knows she's off the point, but she seems to be working through something important here. ]

It's hard. I know it's hard. You have to reevaluate yourself. And that's tough.

[ He gives her a slight tug. Want to cry on my shoulder? ]

[ It takes her a second, almost reluctant to let go of his hands, but then she follows the tug and she buries her face in his shoulder, wraps her arms around him and clings on tight. ]

I don't— I don't know who I am if I'm not— if it's not both of us. It's always been us. You're the only one that's— that's never—

[ She's crying, but not sobbing. He's the only constant. Everyone else is gone. Everyone else gave up on her a long, long time ago. She's never been able to find a solid life outside of him because he's the only thing that stays. ]

I need to be me. But I don't know who me is if I'm not this. If I'm not— if I'm not—

[ He hadn't quite known if she was sincere about that apology until now. He rubs her back. ]

You don't have to live that way here. I'm here.

[ In some fucked-up kind of afterlife, but he's here. ]

[ She's shaking in his arms and she can't help but feel pathetic for it, even as she clings tighter, fists balled in his uniform. She let him die, she let him die and she suffered the consequences and yet he's here comforting her and fuck. ]

I— I know. I know. You're here and— and you know, you know how much I fucked up, and— fuck.

[ Exhale. Inhale. She rubs her face on his shoulder to try and stop the tears but it doesn't help. So many emotions all tangled up, all warring to get out. She's never tried to put most of this in words, still can't get them quite right even as she does. ]

[ He stays still, steady as a rock, to comfort her. ]

Yeah, I do know. I know about everything, right? And I'm still here.

[ It might have been rough going right after her confession—he'd needed some time—but that was all. Time, not a rejection. ]

[ She nods, clinging ever tighter. He's still here, despite it all. He should hate her, but he's still here. ]

You're here. [ it's quiet, barely audible ] You're... you're here.

[ She takes another deep, shuddering breath and squeezes her eyes shut tight. ]

It's like— it's like being pulled two ways. All— all the time. Like... Like...

[ She stalls, stuck on the words. ]

[ He continues to hold steady, despite her leaning on him. He pets a hand through the ends of her hair. ]

What is?

Us. Being— being us. I need... I need to be—

[ Her tongue ties up again and she breathes, focuses on physically sensation, grounds herself. He's not going anywhere. ]

I need to be my own person, Drew, but no one's ever— I've never— I can never— I don't know—

[ Inhale, exhale. A part of her wants to scream. Admitting all of this hurts, it hurts in a way she can't even describe, but so does holding it all in. ]

[ He almost feels amused, but he stuffs that down. Of course she's her own person, so much more than he is—can't she see that? ]

Two ways... Like you want to be a part of being us, but you also want to be your own?

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