hadriel_logs | some patients can't be saved, but that burden's not on you [CLOSED]

Entry tags:

nick valentine,
rey

some patients can't be saved, but that burden's not on you [CLOSED]

Who: Rey and Nick Valentine.
What: Some violence inspires a much needed talk between roommates/family.
Where: House 1401.
When: June 1st, a few hours after Rey's little "street brawl" with Sato.
Warnings: Blood and mentions of gore.

A hiss escapes between her teeth as Rey finishes the makeshift binder around her ribcage. "Fuck!"

It'll do, for now, as she pulls the bottom of her tanktop over the bandages. She tries not to spend too much time in front of the mirror, rather not caring to see her own already scarred face. All she does is clean up the blood with a damp towel, last on her laundry list of things to do when it comes to patching herself up.

Shit, her arm is killing her. It hangs limply at her side, being something of a challenge with every inch she has to force it. Probably dislocated. She'll have to deal with that soon, too. The sharp pain is becoming difficult to ignore.

At some point, in the middle of patching herself up in the bathroom of her shared home, she hears scratching and deep mowing sounds outside. Every now and then she glances towards the space under the door, where skinny, hairless paws continue reaching inside as if that would somehow help. It's nothing of concern, or so Rey thought, as that damned one-eyed cat that's started following her around couldn't get to her between doors. She disregards it, telling it to stop but to no avail -- it persists.

Eventually, the damned thing practically contorts itself. Body compressing and squeezing through the gap, the cat-like creature somehow manages to get from the outside to its destination.

Rey's heart skips, jumping when the hideous creature is halfway there with her back pressed to the sink. "What are you--? Hey!"

Next thing she knows, the cat is sitting upright, its gangly front paw posed between its hindquarters as it blinks up at her with its one, yellow-green eye.

Her eyes narrow. "You son of a bitch," she mutters under her breath.

"Mow."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's been a long few weeks for Nick Valentine.

First, there was the disappearance of Miss Kate Galloway, an absence that left a hole both in the clinic staff as well as the community of Hadriel. Given the way the clinic and the Guard worked together to help the new arrivals each month, it didn't take long for them to feel the absence of her usual organization; it seemed the clinic was losing a lot of hands these days.

Worse was the affect her vanishing had on Shadow: though he'd seen their interactions on the network, Nick hadn't realized just how close they were until the hedgehog started lashing out, starting with that public debacle with his sparring partner. His temper had been on the rise, and it only worsened as the days went by. Then Rey asked Nick to take Shadow off surveillance, especially Danse's case. He was too risky for anything that required such subtlety. Nick agreed and called Shadow off all his work, a move which he hadn't seemed too happy about at the time.

Following that, Nick had reached out to Danse for some kind of peace for the better of the city, and that had gone as well as could be expected. They could all use the extra help, especially the Guard, but as long as he was there, Danse wouldn't have it, no matter who it benefited. While used to being treated as less than human, getting called a "defective Institute machine" still stung in some way that left Nick hurting. Maybe he'd just had too long to think about it; there was a lot on his plate.

Nick kept that wound to himself; he had other things to worry about the moment the news broke about Shadow's attack on Sato. It was bad enough that Sato wouldn't back down on trying to turn folks against the Guard, but worse were the implications behind the attack. The hedgehog's impulsiveness and aggression could have been helped... but Nick still blames himself. He should have tried to reach out to him sooner, should have seen the signs. He should have done something... but what?

There's no telling now. Though the bloodstains from carrying Shadow's corpse have long been washed from his coat, Nick can't seem so stifle the anger he feels over the whole thing. Shadow hasn't come back, either -- not a good sign.

And then there was the violent party, that distance Maketh seemed to be putting between herself and the Guard, the fact that she'd been in contact with Hux for unknown reasons -- it's a lot to wear on an old synth's mind, and there's more to come.

So Nick has been quiet himself lately, coming in later than usual, running his patrols longer as though he could fix all his problems with just one more sweep of the streets. When he does come home, he's usually greeted by the newest resident in 1401; today, however, he walks in just as the three-legged mongrel flattens himself out and squeezes under the bathroom door. Closed door, lights on -- Rey must be home.

The synth sighs just before calling out to her, just to let her know he's in for now. He slides out of his coat, tossing it onto the back of the couch. "Rey?"

Though not blind to Nick's quiet mannerisms these last few weeks, it hasn't been so much a mystery that Rey felt compelled to immediately pry into the details. Besides, she can see on her own what has been eating at him, from Sato to Shadow to Maketh. Rey herself had been inclined to check on the Guard founder, trying to keep her from slipping too far. She's been down that road, and she'll be damned if she lets it happen where there's something she can do about it.

In any case, Rey didn't have anything constructive to add asides from an 'I told you so,' which Nick no doubt already knows and doesn't need to hear from her, anyway. She might be socially dense in many respects, but she at least has some tact when it comes to the people she cares about. Just less so with people she doesn't.

At the present, she winces when she hears Nick's voice calling from the other side of the door, shortly after the 'cat' wiggled its way from under the gap.

"Yes, in here!" Rey replies, biting down hard after to bear the pain. She's had her fair share of scrapes in the past, and this is no more concerning to her than a papercut.

Nick, on the other hand...

She should probably get cleaned up before stepping out that door.

The cat just sits there, blinking and... is it smiling? It looks like it's smiling. Hard to tell. Why would it be smiling? Rey doesn't spend much time trying to psychoanalyze an eldritch feline from some hellish abyss and grabs a cloth, dampening it in the sink and starts cleaning the blood off her face the best she can. Won't do much for a cut lip, as well as the scrapes and bruises here and there. Guess that's what she gets for not covering up.

Finally raising her eyes to take a good look at her beat-up self in the mirror, she knows Nick is going to have a thing or two to say once she steps out that door. Shit.

A few seconds later, she adds: "Everything all right?"

Before Nick has the time to ask her the very same thing to her.

"Yeah, it's all right," Nick responds, though his tone says otherwise. There's tiredness in it, exhaustion a mechanical man such as himself shouldn't be able to feel. He's a machine, after all, someone whose existence and purpose even the gods of Hadriel question.

"I was just letting you know I'm home," he continues, catching that painful shift in her voice. It crosses his mind he should ask what Rey is doing holed up in there, but that part of him that's carrying more weight than it ought to lets it slide for now. She's fine, he tells himself, knowing that's exactly what she'd insist if he asked whether it was true or not. They might be as close as family can get, but there are times where he's still learning to trust her, even when it's hard to do so -- even when he is so sure that sometimes, the trust that people can handle themselves is what gets them killed on his watch.

He should have done more, both for Shadow and for Jenny. Why didn't he do more? And what more can he do for the city? For the Guard? For Rey?

"I've got a few things to do in my office," he adds only a second later. He means his room, but given it's not exactly a place for sleeping, it's more of an office than a bedroom. "So if you need me, I'll be in there."

That's a more common occurrence these days.

Edited 2017-06-03 08:35 (UTC)

From Nick's tone to recent events, Rey knows better than to think it's 'all right'. She frowns at her reflection in the mirror, trying to disreguard the cat hobbling towards her to bonk its head against the side of her leg. One arm is lower than the other, confirming her suspicion that it's been dislodged from its socket.

With a sigh, she calls back, "Hang on. Think I'm going to need some help with something."

Even if Rey could fix this on her own, there's no hiding her condition from Nick. She nudges the cat aside, who continues to follow her after she opens the bathroom door.

Her good hand slides down her bruised and scratched face. No matter how many times she rinses the blood off, it'll still look like she had a fight with a wolverine.

Close enough.

"Fixing one of these is not as easy as it looks in the movies," she says, gesturing to her dislocated arm.

It's as Nick turns to head to his room that Rey calls back; he stops, his brow knitting even before he knows what's wrong. There is something wrong though -- he doesn't need his detective instincts to tell him that.

His brow is still knit as she opens the door, quiet apprehension weaving into his every synthetic feature: it laces through his jaw and pulls it slightly agape, widens his eyes as his manufactured muscles are tugged with immediate concern. He doesn't even get the chance to speak as she points out her arm, but that doesn't mean the obvious question is out of his mind.

"What the hell happened, Rey?" Nick asks, putting a hand on her good shoulder, trying to guide her to the den. The city has been a mess lately, but it takes a lot to injure someone as tough as she is.

Despite that shoulder not being the one out of its socket, a sharp pain stabs through Rey's nerves as Nick's hand makes contact. She ignores it, passing it as a bruise or something that can't be seen, as she forces her feet one step after another to follow her roommate's side.

"Seriously?" She makes an incredulous snort, which sends a sting in her chest and she decides she probably shouldn't laugh no matter how funny this situation might be to her. And it is pretty funny, in a way. "People are itching to paint the town red as it is. What do you think happened?"

She can be evasive, because Rey knows how the answer would worry Nick even further. Besides, she was just as involved as some of the others -- violence is in her nature. When given the right push, it can be hard to deny that it's fun sometimes, even if she hates it.

Unfortunately, Nick picks up on that evasiveness in less than a second. His eyes narrow beneath the brim of his hat, their glow in the shadow of it bright as he casts her with an incredulous look.

"You're telling me just any Tom, Dick, or Harry can land a punch on you?" he cuts back. "Or leave you in this kind of condition? You look like you went ten rounds with a super mutant on Psycho."

He knows the answer to his questions, as well as the implications Rey is getting at. The whole city has been volatile since the party. Nick might have missed out on the more fevered emotions -- he suspects it's because he didn't particularly engage in the event so much as keep an eye on it from the outside, as always -- but he wasn't blind to them. And while he knows Rey can be hotheaded at times (literally), he expects her to do better than to start a fight when she could lay someone flat on their back with hardly a flick of her wrist. Nick has personal experience with that.

Edited 2017-06-07 08:02 (UTC)

Well, Nick's not at all wrong. Maketh had tried to really rail into Rey and ended up hurting herself more in the end. Most Tom, Dick, and Harrys would -- with a few exceptions.

"It was Sato, all right?" Rey admits as she sinks into the couch, fingers tightening over her crooked shoulder. She didn't notice until just then that the three-legged cat has been hobbling beside her since she left the bathroom, and is now rubbing its face against the side of her leg. Her mouth tightens into a straight line. "He came at me and I wasn't just going to cut and run."

Even if she wanted to, the inclination to fight was too great. It's part of what she is -- who she is. It might not be the sole thing that defines her now, but blood is a big part of her identity; just like these scars on her face.

Her eyes shift up to Nick. "It wasn't technically just him, though. He's got this... thing that he can make. Usually invisible. Strong as hell."

Nick doesn't even move as Rey gives him a name, frozen where he stands.

He's generally the level-headed one of the two of them; he's an even-tempered force of stability in Rey's life, one that, given what he knows about her history, he's sure she needs as much as he needs her. He knows her true nature, understands her draw toward violence. He also knows she's better than that, even if, at times, she cannot help it -- especially when the gods intervene in their lives. Tensions flare, and people do things they might not under any other circumstances.

But this is Sato she's talking about. He's a man looking for trouble, one who would attack people for no rhyme or reason other than his own, sick entertainment. Nick has known people like him -- there's no changing someone like that. More than that, Sato would know what he was getting into with Rey, given how much they've dealt with one another. She's been keeping her eye on him, as Shadow had. While the hedgehog was impulsive and jumped the gun, Rey knows how to take care of herself.

One might not know that looking at her at the second. What was Sato's game here? Did he pick a fight with Rey just to satisfy himself, or to see how far he could push her? How much of that fight was the gods, and how much was the man himself?

And is Nick willing to find out?

He knows the answer to that, but the oil in his gut is bubbling too hot to even consider it. After everything that has happened -- with the Guard, with Shadow -- Nick finds himself as the one with a temper. His eyes glow bright, but his expression darkens.

"And knowing what he could do to you, you still went and fought with that lunatic?"

Rey raises a brow at Nick where he stays, unmoving.

"I've done it before, not that he knew that it was me at the time." Hopefully. She'd rather keep it that way for as long as possible, before Sato is able to put two and two together that she was the black monster that went toe-to-toe with his invisible friend the day he attacked the Guard headquarters. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the need to seriously punch someone right then. Might as well have been someone who's also an asshole."

Sato doesn't scare her. She's more worried what he might do to the people she cares about, and the fact that he's seemed to taken an interest in Maketh. The Guard as a whole is one thing, but Maketh's shady method makes her an easy target to demonize. Rey is trying to work on that.

It's no mystery why Nick is reacting the way he is. But, not willing to budge on this issue, she starts to cross her arms -- then stops short with a wince when a sharp pain surges through her shoulder once again.

So much for that.

Just because Rey's done this sort of thing before in extenuating circumstances doesn't mean Nick's comfortable with it. That wince just furthers his resolve, as well as his worry. He beelines to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He'll see what he can do about her injuries himself as he tries to soothe his own temper.

"How long until he figures out that was you?" he asks, his tone low, his jaw tense. "I know we need to keep an eye on him, but I'd rather you steer clear of him before he ends up doing worse to you."

And before it's too late -- before he loses someone else.

There is good reason for Nick to worry. However, there's also more to this and she's well aware of that, as well as the fact that his heart is in the right place -- even if it is a mechanical one.

What doesn't help is that a certain event has likely contributed to Nick's increased disapproval. She makes a face while waiting for him to return with the first aid kit, not surprised that he'd rather do a once over himself.

"It's not like I could have just run away, Nick, and I wasn't looking for a fight with him until he started one. I'm not like Shadow," she points out bluntly. "Besides, he's already asked Firo once to 'check on me' the last time I was being avoidant. I won't put him at risk."

At least that much she hopes Nick should be able to understand. Firo might be an immortal gangster, but even he has his limits. And there's no way he could've known what he was getting himself into before it was too late.

Nick's eyes cut to Rey when she mentions the hedgehog by name, his look saying that she's treading on thin ice. He's had a lot bothering him for the past month, and it's no big secret that Shadow's death hit him hard. That look still remains as she continues and brings up Firo; he knows what she's getting at, but he still disagrees. Firo wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt her, but he certainly isn't willing to back down when Rey gets mixed up in the messes he makes by cutting deals with Sato. His involvement at the attack on the Guard HQ is proof enough of that. He had his reasons, but are they still good enough?

"Then maybe you both oughtta reconsider what you're doing," Nick replies, setting the kit down, "since you're putting yourselves at risk with this."

Much as Rey gets it; she even gets that she's walking on eggshells here. She just knows that she can't make good on Nick's wish. Not right now, the way things are.

"Do you really think he's the type of guy who'd just accept that?" Rey asks, her eyes focused on Nick rather than the kit he has. The cuts on her face and neck aren't bad enough that she feels they warrant medical attention, but the gash under the ripped fabric of her tanktop and limp arm are a different story.

She grimaces. "I... wanted to hurt something, anyway. Might as well be someone who was literally asking for it."

Fighting is part of Rey's nature. Nick might disagree on that as well, but she can't deny that it's a facet of who she is.

A heavy sigh escapes the synth as he sets out a few tools from the kit, things necessary for cleanup. Rey dealt with a lot of the blood on her face, but there's more she hasn't yet exposed to the open air, worrying tells like the way she holds herself and her limp arm being more than enough to alert Nick to their presence.

"I'm just worried about you," he says quietly, his eyes still on the kit, the bandages -- anywhere but Rey. He's had a lot on his mind, but that's always been right at the forefront of it. Rey can punch Sato all she likes, gods' influence or not, but Nick will worry regardless. That's what family does.

Stop it, Rey wants to say. But Nick has put up so much shit from her, helped her for long enough now, that the words don't make it out of her throat.

"Well, you've earned that," she admits. It's a waste of effort to tell him otherwise, isn't it?

In the meantime, she'll sit and deal with it, even through Nick's disapproval.

As he's pulling out the stuff from the kit, Rey adds, "I'll be fine. I heal fast after some rest. I've died enough times to know what it feels like if it's something serious."

Rey, please.

Though that comment gets her a sharp look -- the point that she's familiar enough with death to know what it feels like when she's in real trouble is not a comforting one -- Nick says nothing of it as he pours some antiseptic onto a rag. He gestures for her to roll up her shirt so he can take a look at what's under there.

"I called him off, you know."

The look Nick gives her following her rather disconcerting reply tells Rey everything. What it also tells her is to keep her mouth shut for now.

When he tells her that last bit, she doesn't know what to say. He already appears to have a lot going on in that head of his without them having to bring up such a sordid subject. Instead, Rey pulls up her shirt, just enough to reveal the crudely patched up claw gash across her side.

"How did he take it?" She tries to remain as neutral as she can about this, opting to keep any smartass remarks to herself.

Nick's eyes flick to Rey as he hesitates before putting the rag on her side; the look he gives her says this will probably sting.

"As well as can be expected," he replies. His hand tightens on the rag, nerves a machine shouldn't feel kicking in. "Probably better with me than he's been with anyone lately."

Knowing Nick, Rey can hazard a few guesses just how well he took the events following his talk with Shadow. She'd tell him that it's not his fault, but it's probably useless at this point.

She forces a wry smile, as she bears the sharp pain shooting through her nerves when Nick administers the rag over her wound.

"You seem to have that effect on people," she says with some attempted levity this time.

Rey's swing at levity is unfortunately a miss: there's a mixture of disappointment and despondence that crosses him as he cleans her wound. She's sturdier than most people, but he can't let it get infected. He can't lose someone else.

Even he realizes he's taking this harder than he thought he would. "I tried, Rey," he finally says, setting the rag aside. "I really did. But there's only so far trying can get you with some people."

Not just Shadow, but others, too.

Something tells her that there have been varied factors eating at her roommate these last few weeks. She hadn't thought to pry before, figuring that he would open sooner or later.

Rey should have known better, though. Her smile fades into a more sincere frown, bringing her hand towards her side to get a feel of the pain and the injury's severity. She'll live, at least. Even if it brings Nick no solace, Rey has been through worse.

"If trying was all it took, we wouldn't have any problems," she says, mirthless. Her eyes fix on Nick then, head canting slightly. "What's wrong?"

It's more than just Shadow, she can tell. Some people, he had said.

Nick's eyes return to her, defeat settling in as he leans back from his kneel and takes a seat on the floor. He could deny that anything is wrong, but hell, he knows Rey will see through that. If there's anyone who can tell that something is eating him, it's Rey, the only other person in Hadriel even remotely like him.

... that he knows of, anyway.

He sighs, taking a moment to figure out just what to say, always trying to hold onto his composure even in the worst moments. It's all a part of the original Nick, the memories that make him human enough for most. He can't change everyone's mind, though -- it's not as though he sets out to do such a thing on purpose as it is. Much as Rey said, he just sort of has that effect on people. Do good, and it'll come back to you.

"A lot of things, lately."

It's a start.

It is a start; one that Rey will take. She sinks back into the couch, bringing a hand over to her limp arm. Hurts like hell, but she's used to pain. She can clench through it, because Nick is more important.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Rey says, her tone soft. "Doesn't matter what or who it's about -- I'll listen."

She likes to think that he could always do that, even when he has grievances over the company she keeps, even if she doesn't always agree with him. They're free to disagree on some things. That's what Rey values about what she has with Nick. The last thing she wants is to lose that.

The look Nick gives Rey says he knows -- she'll listen. They might not always agree, but she'd listen anyway because that's what family does. They're there for one another.

Finding a good place to start is the toughest part sometimes.

"It's not just Shadow," he utters, frustration etching into the creases of his face. "It's Maketh. Danse. Me. Hell, I don't even know where to start."

For it being such a tough subject to breach, it's already a start. She leans in, bearing the posture of one who's attentive and ready to hear what her family has to say.

Maketh, she can understand; sometimes Rey herself has a difficult time with that woman. Shadow and Danse even make plenty of sense on their own.

"You?" She squints at Nick, confused. "Did something happen?"

"No, no. Nothing happened." Nothing major, and nothing recent. It's just been eating away at him, bit by bit, wearing him down the longer he's thought about it.

"I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately about the things I don't remember, wondering just how much of it I should."

And more importantly, the things he doesn't yet know and wants to, but can't.

They've lived together long enough for even Rey to notice when something has been wearing down on Nick. He carries it in his disposition, like any living, feeling human carrying emotions. Nick is more than just a machine pretending to be a person -- far as Rey is concerned these days, he is one.

Which is why thinking about him hurting in any way troubles her. He doesn't feel pain in the way a normal human would, if his physical state is any indicator. In a way, the affliction he experiences is far worse than that.

"That have anything to do with that machine you've got hooked up in your room?"

It could hardly be considered a computer, but it sure as hell isn't something any of the gods could have imagined up.

The corner of Nick's mouth quirks upward in a somber kind of half-smile, one given when he's been found out, but isn't particularly troubled by it. While he didn't exactly divulge what that thing is in his room, he didn't make any real business of hiding it, either.

"It's a terminal," he explains. "The kind you'd find it my neck of the woods. I got it when the gods had that little competition of theirs." And while he hadn't put forth a great deal of effort to make sure Tranquility won, he did do his part in keeping the peace. Thankfully, that's what he tries to do every day.

"Thing's filled with the same kinds of gizmos the scooters are," he continues, idly petting the one-eyed cat as the feline saunters past his leg. "But it works, so I guess that counts for something. I was using it to keep some notes, files and memos the Guard uses as a backup."

He pauses there, but only for a moment, and that half-smile fades. "Got some wires to connect to it, too."

Something told Rey that she might be on the right track, even now. And when Nick adds that last comment, she suspects it even more.

"Connecting wires?" Rey echoes with a slight lift of her brows. "You need those for your notes, too?"

She's been connected to a terminal enough times over the last few years of her life to know what that actually means.

"Not for my notes," he returns. He knows that she knows, but he continues anyway.

"I've been meaning to do some... poking around up there," he admits. "The more I think about it, the more gaps I find -- things I didn't realize I didn't remember. I want to know what else there is, and why."

Just what she expected, but a little confirmation doesn't hurt. "I get it," she says.

Having holes in your memories is frustrating. Rey's been there. Been lost in the not knowing. She doesn't ever want to he in that place again, without the knowledge of who and what she is.

"Is that something you should be doing on your own, though? Memories are tricky enough as they are without them being stored in data form."

Too many things could easily go wrong. One slip, deleted or misplaced or wrong script, and you could cause a whole system crash.

Rey's right: there's so much that can go wrong when futzing around with the processor that makes up his brain. He's taken a lot of blows over the years, had some shortages, the occasional crossed wire that needed soldering, and even a bout of god-induced amnesia. Still, there's plenty he doesn't know, and he can't help but wonder just how much he should. Someone like Danse might have had a grudge against him just for what he is, but he can tell when he looks the man in the eye that there's more to it than that. The question is if it's all in the future, or if there's something else in the past -- something else missing from his data banks.

Being the detective he is, Nick likes to think he remembers most of the details of his mechanical life, but that whole dream with his 'brother' has called a lot of his own memories into question. He's turned them over and over in his head, and while some of them are fuzzy, others just plain aren't there: cases where he can't recall the outcome, faces he can't put a name with. The stuff from the real Nick should have some gaps -- it always has -- but everything from when he awoke as a machine should be clear, written into his memory the same way any file would. Is his memory as faulty as any human's? Or is there something more going on?

That's what he wants to know, and if possible, fix. Nick wouldn't let just anyone fiddle around up there... but Rey isn't just anyone.

"They are," he agrees. "I'd hoped maybe I could do some of this on my own and not bother you with this sort of thing, but if there's anyone whose help I could use here, it'd be yours."

From where Rey is standing, Nick has every right to worry. Memory tinkering isn't a minor thing; it messes with your head, your identity. If something happened, someone had done something to Nick to make him forget...

The dream comes back to mind, as Rey recalls images of Nick's brother -- rapidly scanning through files on that Institute terminal. It was a dream, not reality, but the escape part was real. Nick would have no reason to dream up a synthetic identical to himself rescuing him from that place, after believing for so long that he was simply trash discarded into a dump site.

It was a dream, and yet like the experiences Nick and Firo and Maketh saw in Rey's own head during those many nights, there were had been some realness to them as well.

"It's not a bother. I'd rather help you than let you try it yourself, or try to find some random person to do it for you," she reassures him. Frowning, she hooks her good hand around the back of her neck. "I'm not a programmer, like my... father, but I've seen him mess around with the shit in my head to have an idea on what he was doing. The code might look different in yours, but I'd like to try than so nothing."

That's a risk they'd have to take regardless of who takes a peek in Nick's memory bank, though. The only person from Nick's world who might know what he's looking at is the last person who should be entrusted with Nick's code.

As Rey hesitates at the mention of her father, Nick's lip twitches, a flash of a grimace crossing him. He's well aware what she thinks of the man who made her; from what he knows, and how he feels about Rey, Nick doesn't think much of the guy himself.

"Well, you've done great keeping me in working order so far," he says with a dry smile, as though trying to lighten the mood despite the dour topic. It fades so fast: "There're just some things I've got to know. I've tried letting go of them, but all this business with Danse being here and some of the things he's said just make me wonder how much more there is that I'm missing."

There's some solace to be found in that, knowing that she's done good for Nick. It almost makes up for how much he looks after her. She puts him through so much as it is, that he thinks he'd be an inconvenience to her so not to ask for help. They're both alike in that way.

"It's hard to let go of something that's a part of you."

Especially if that part of you is a potential family member, or as close to one as something like a synthetic can get. Rey would have a hard time letting go of the memories of her brother, or even what little she has of her mother. In that respect, that fact makes them all the more precious.

Rey glances in the direction of Nick's room, before turning her eyes back to him. "Should probably tinker around with your machine for a while, first. Get used to the hardware. Have a feeling that the tech from our respective worlds might run on different OS's."

Once she has full use of both arms, that is. One saving grace about being what she is, it shouldn't take long for her to heal.

Nick knows how hard it is to let go of something -- or someone who is a part of you. The real Nick knew it just as much as the synthetic one does.

... or at least as much as he thought he did. The loose ends still plague him: were there other brothers out there he didn't know about? Other prototypes? People he'd forgotten? Do the clockwork bits of him have an expiration date? He'd never worried much about his own mortality until Hadriel, as all he considered was putting others first; he does essentially the same now thing now, but in order to take care of Rey, he has to take care of himself, as well.

And in this case, that means dealing with this memory thing before it eats him alive.

"Yeah, I'll let you do that," he returns. "Could hook it up out here if you wanted, let you get familiar with the hardware once you're back in one piece. There anything else I can do?"

Yes, her condition is on his mind, but so still are other things; that topic change might have been a slight way to dodge around them.

Rey nods. "Should work. Don't want to just jump in there, but we should probably do something about it soon than later -- we don't exactly have an abundance of time here."

Or, they do, but there's always something in between, she realizes. Something that might make this sort of thing more difficult during or after. The last thing she wants to do is squander.

And if she needs something from the gods to make her hardware and Nick's terminal more compatible, then that'll just take even more time. She'll cross that bridge when she gets to it. Right now, she's just relieved for a subject change so she doesn't have to muse such things aloud.

"Yes, actually." She waves to her limp shoulder with her good hand. "Twist my arm?" Rey requests with a crooked, almost joking smile.

That elicits a dry grin to match her smile. "Only because you asked."

He might twist her arm -- figuratively -- for other reasons another day, but for now, Nick will save it for helping Rey put hers back into its place. Careful not to accidentally kick the cat circling him, he gets back to his feet.

"Once we're done here, I'll get the wires and let you take a look at them, show you how to hook me up to the thing. It'll give you something to do while you rest up."

And she will be doing that, no ifs, ands, or buts.

"Deal."

You know it's serious when she's being agreeable for a change.

Rey starts sitting more upright on the couch as she lifts her arm over her head. She winces, a groan escaping between her teeth clenched in pain when she does so. Yeah, she's going to need some help with that. She can barely control her limb with the joint so out of place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

some patients can't be saved, but that burden's not on you [CLOSED]

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