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15 // video // in which it's hard to know where to start
[ The narration will be collapsing into bed pronto, but let's get this posted while it can at least pretend that it's still Wednesday night.
Alex woke up in a foul-smelling bathroom, surrounded by rubble and his own dried blood, and remembered everything. Things he'd said. Things he'd thought. Things he'd done.
And his death.
His room was close by. Eventually, when he felt able to move, he went there. He found clothes that weren't torn and brittle and stained that dark brown-red. Now the feed flicks on without his realising it, to show him sitting on the floor in his darkened room, back against the foot of his bed, arms around his knees, staring at nothing. Behind him and to the right, the bank of camcorders is a quiet silhouette, one of the recording lights finally blinking again.
At one point, he lifts his hand and moves it over his face, his completely human face. Then he lowers the arm and is still again.
The feed times out after about ten minutes. ]
((ooc: only the stuff after "the feed flicks on" is visible on the monitors; the rest was for continuity.))
Alex woke up in a foul-smelling bathroom, surrounded by rubble and his own dried blood, and remembered everything. Things he'd said. Things he'd thought. Things he'd done.
And his death.
His room was close by. Eventually, when he felt able to move, he went there. He found clothes that weren't torn and brittle and stained that dark brown-red. Now the feed flicks on without his realising it, to show him sitting on the floor in his darkened room, back against the foot of his bed, arms around his knees, staring at nothing. Behind him and to the right, the bank of camcorders is a quiet silhouette, one of the recording lights finally blinking again.
At one point, he lifts his hand and moves it over his face, his completely human face. Then he lowers the arm and is still again.
The feed times out after about ten minutes. ]
((ooc: only the stuff after "the feed flicks on" is visible on the monitors; the rest was for continuity.))
no subject
...what, did you think we were going to do KNOCK KNOCK jokes forever? Although it would be lovely if it was actually a bird. I do like birds. They are so small and yet so- huh? Oh. Oh, right.
Lamb sees feed. Lamb doesn't even wait for it to finish. Lamb can't bear not being amongst the biggest tags in the tag cloud (if Alex had one, anyway). Lamb rushes upstairs. Lamb knocks. ]
Alex?
no subject
She always arrives in times of crisis, doesn't she? Regular as the sun rising.
(He remembers the discrepancies, the sedatives he didn't ask for, and what Sinclair said about ADAM, and doesn't know where to fit them. But they can be rationalised.) ]
...Sof'?
[ His voice is loud enough for her to hear, but only just; uncertain; a little, in an unguarded moment, just a little like the way you might say "mum?" after waking from a nightmare. ]
no subject
There was an in-between with both regulars, an attempt at catching up, but the lack of memories on Mr. Kralie's part didn't exactly make it something to write home about.
And then the splicy fun times began. In her mind Lamb is preparing, doing something akin to making a list of her good and her bad deeds; only not quite, because clearly there were no bad deeds, only some which may be mistaken as such by somebody who lacks her sound moral understanding.
Her list is ready. Alex's list is radiation fodder. She pushes to open the door. Locked. ]
May I come in?
[ Her voice is only just as loud as it has to be, calm reassurance doesn't do well at a high volume, after all. ]
no subject
Right. His door is locked. He made sure of it when he came back to his room - even though he knows by now that locks, in this place, are no more than a sugar pill.
It seems too much to hope that she'd forgive him. What if she's just here to make sure he's not... not dangerous any more?
He's been compiling a list that's similar to Sofia's, and it's still spinning in his head as he pulls himself upright and heads for the door, his movements uncomfortable, trying to slip into some kind of routine that he doesn't have to think about. It differs from hers, though, in the important detail that it's almost entirely critical.
What if she's here to tell him to go to hell?
Alex wishes he could just act like the whole thing never happened. And sometimes that's doable. But you can't walk up to someone you've treated like that and pretend it didn't happen, not if you want to deserve their friendship.
He draws the bolts back. Feels like his body's just a suit he's wearing, unweildy and unfamiliar.
Opens the door. Swallows.
For all the time he's been thinking about this, he hasn't been able to come up with anything better than: ]
Sof', I'm really sorry.
[ ...in a tone which clearly doesn't expect to be shown leniency. ]
no subject
[ Pause.
Not to inspect him, no, she already watched the rest of the feed while walking here, and besides, she was fairly certain the mansion would push reset for him.
Pause... just so you can prepare to take notes on the next part. ]
Alex, you should know that it is impossible for me to accept an apology from you.
no subject
And he has to stop himself from making excuses, because he swore to himself he wouldn't: he's lost the right to make excuses to anyone. To Sof', to J, to Doctor Tam... the list is long.
The look on his face is, for a split second, the horror of having a fear confirmed. Then he shuts it down. He doesn't want her to see that. Doesn't want anyone to see that. The face goes taut, the eyes stoically blank. But the corners of his mouth keep dragging down, having to be pulled back into line.
He has to say something. He has to fight for this. There are other people he talks to, a couple other friends, but Sof's the only person he's really close to. ]
I... I want to make it up.
no subject
If I let you do that I would acknowledge your responsibility for events that were no more within your control than the actions of your mirror self or indeed those of a complete stranger.
[ She steps closer, maybe into the room, if there is not too much Alex in the door. To reiterate: ]
I cannot accept your apology, Alex, because to me you have nothing to apologise for.
no subject
He could laugh with relief. He could hug her. He could yell at her that why didn't she say that first instead of making him think he was dead to her. What he does is stare, and let out his breath in tiny bursts. ]
I...
[ It doesn't dissipate the guilt, though. His voice is quiet, a guilty confession. ]
I... I didn't even... stay and make sure you woke up.
no subject
There was nothing you could have done to influence the mansion's course and you had your own health to worry about.
[ And while we're on the subject of keeping a perfectly neutral tone while talking about things that clearly make Alex a horrible and selfish bastard: ]
I saw you talking to Sinclair on the transmission you sent from my room. Did you meet with him?
[ Understandably there is also a hint of concern in her voice. ]
no subject
His hand is shaking. He lowers it. ]
I just... want to forget about this.
no subject
She smiles warmly and gives it a small nod. ]
If that is what you want.
[ And in an apropos fashion she asks: ]
If you would prefer to have some time to yourself now...?
no subject
Hit by the urge to escape, he remembers how he dealt the last time he refused to acknowledge an ordeal. He mustn't repeat that mistake, even if it's taken him four whole years to realise that it was in some ways a mistake.
He mustn't let those three weeks become another Operator.
But he does have to be alone, he realises. Not just alone, away. Somewhere he didn't spend a lot of time before. This room's seen too much. Even the shower's a nasty trigger. Even sitting on his bed makes him remember being spliced, in a horribly confusing, smashed-together way that's all of the good bits as well as all of the bad. ]
...Yeah.
Just. Just for a while.
[ He prays she doesn't take it the wrong way. ]
no subject
[ Sigh. Goodbye Alex's couch. Goodbye, eye-pleasing fern. ]
Take care.
no subject
no subject
He looks at Ivanova for a while, his expression closed, not knowing how to answer. To say yes would be such a huge, such an obvious lie. But he doesn't want to talk about what happened. He doesn't want to think about it. ]
...I'm sorry I haven't been doing the surveillance lately.
[ He's lost track of time completely, but outside of his head it's been three weeks since Mirror Lamb spliced him up. ]
no subject
What happened?
no subject
I was ill.
[ He starts to pick himself up off the floor, but stalls before he's done more than move his legs, then draws them back up to under his chin. ]
I got sick.
[ He halfway manages to pitch his voice like it was no big deal. ]
no subject
Do you need assistance?
no subject
Alex shakes his head emphatically. If he starts asking for help, he might have to explain why he might need help, and that's the last thing he wants. ]
Don't worry about me.
no subject
no subject
Oh my god! Are you okay!?
[video that apologises for Alex's lack of manners]
Fine.
[ ...and then just continuing to stare. ]
[video that apologises for Alex's lack of manners]
[video]
[He looks pale as hell. He didn't sleep at all last night. And he's staring, looking scared.]
Alex, is that... really you?
[video]
He nods, but he can't meet J's eyes for more than a few seconds. He looks at a corner of the screen, his expression sunken into inscrutablility.
...There's something he should've said already. Hell, he should've said it a long time ago; he's realised, thanks to the memory event, how much it sucks to know a good friendship ended but not know why.
Is there any way he can say this that'll make it more than too little, too late? ]
I'm sorry.
[ Then he draws in a heavy breath. ]
[video]
... Yeah. I bet. [A pause. He looks away from the camera.] ... I guess it was better that he, uh.. yeah.
[video]
[video]
Yeah. Well.
That's not really...
[Then he shakes his head.] ...Just don't take that shit again.
[And off goes his feed. :|]