hadriel_logs | you're part of a machine [OPEN/CLOSED]

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you're part of a machine [OPEN/CLOSED]

Who: Rey/Safronov and Nick Valentine (feat Alphys) + a couple open prompts.
What: Finding out that she has limited time left before her brain melts due to the infection that led to her death, ~~Rey~~ Safronov suffers a few blackout episodes before she is able to bring her successor back.
Where: Abandoned shop, Science lab, Robot House (1401).
When: March catch-all (feel free to specify dates in the subject line when tagging an open prompt if it's important).
Warnings: Suicidal ideations and other heavy subjects.

7th-19th; Abandoned Shop [OPEN]
(are you insane like me, been in pain like me?)

The headaches only got worse as the days went by. Sometimes, she would hear the most unbearable ringing in her ears, like a grenade had just gone off right next to her head. More frequent came the nosebleeds, and within a week it became blatantly obvious that Safronov was working on borrowed time. She knew this, and there was no pride in being right.

Her memories at the Russian command center were vague at first, but over time she began to recollect her life more. Perhaps it was due to the infection constantly reminding her in the forms of distractions that were getting increasingly more difficult to ignore, but she remembers it all now: She had failed in her objective to destroy the synthetic's hub at the Grigoryevich Underground Center. As a result, its systems had trapped her. Hooked her up to a seat and sent a needle through the port to her brain.

It's not much unlike the needle that her successor had evidently worked from scratch, which had been used to unintentionally bring Safronov back to the forefront. Such a crude design, but one that did the job it was supposed to. All Safronov needed to do was make sure it did its job even better. Her DYI handiwork was all over the shop she had set up base in, so that she could labor on in peace. Peace that was becoming more frequently disrupted through headaches and, now, blackouts.

Sometimes, she would lose track of what she was doing, only to wake up on the floor after trashing the extra tables, chairs, and shelves around her. Quite a racket, for those passing by on the outside and happen to notice a light beaming in the mostly empty establishment.

At some point, it gets even worse. Blackout. Then, another bloody headache. Literal this time. Blood is coming out of her nose as she grips her head, screaming and rolling on the floor. The agony is searing through her skull, electrifying her body and she feels it under her skin.

One bullet should do the trick. In her blinding pain, she crawls across the floor, to the table where she had been working at to find her gun there. Or, Rey's gun. Her successor's gun. It isn't like she hasn't done this before. This is her body, after all. A different owner has taken it now, but she recognizes the subtle flaws and blemishes that were special to her.

Regardless of whose gun this belongs to, it's Safronov's pill now. Just what the doctor ordered.

20th; Science Lab [CLOSED to Alphys sciencelizard + Nick Valentine synthedick]
(do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?)

Of course, her only 'remedy' had been less than ideal, though unsuccessful. In the end, she can't.

This isn't Safronov's life to take away anymore. Despite the pain that Rey had so badly wanted to erase, it was clear that she didn't want to be removed from the world entirely. Not when there were people who cared for her.

More than anyone ever cared about Safronov. There would never be anyone to mourn over her death, and she was better off that way for it. It gives her less reason to cling to this life, or lament the inevitable.

Still wracked with the hot pulsing pain tearing through her skull, Safronov somehow manages to make it across this strange and hot city, back to the place where she had began. While most seem to arrive here through that Door, she came through different means. Unlike the people here, however, she has an exit strategy.

Her nose is bleeding once again as Safronov opens the door to the science lab, the bag holding her supplies that she will need for this slung over her shoulder.

"Doctor?" Safronov calls into the lab before entering. She can't recall if the reptilian scientist had ever designated herself with such a title, but that is what she is called now. Whether the fact that such a creature could even be called a scientist has never struck her as strange, however. Perhaps a little bit of her successor remains, grounding them both, or it's just that Safronov has bigger concerns. "Are you here--?"

Oh. Oh no. Not again--

Safronov grunts, staggering forward while the door slams behind her. Eyes squeezed shut, she finds a wall to rest on, fighting to remain conscious this time.

30th; House 1401 [OPEN to close CR]
(you can't wake up, this is not a dream.)

Nearly a week and a half passes and Rey's body barely stirs in her bed, though it's hard to say if she still even is Rey. If not for the steady breathing, one could easily mistake the prone woman for a corpse.

Though she doesn't show it, every so often she is cognizant of her surroundings. Voices of those standing over her, their presence nearby. She hears, she listens, but she could never reply.

Until the ninth day since Safronov had gone rifling through their head once again. Only her eyes open, and for the first several hours all she can do is stare at the ceiling over her bed. Process her surroundings, feelings... who she is, why she's here, what happened. She remembers her name -- or a name, more like it. And a few other things. The mysteries keep her thoughts more than occupied for the long hours she can't move.

And then she blinks.

Isn't it about time you wake up, sleepyhead? says a quiet whisper in the back of her mind. Where has she heard that before? In a dream?

The questions flutter away as she closes her eyes again, until she hears the sounds of footsteps approaching the opened door to her room.

To what should come as no one's surprise, curled up at the end of the bed is a three-legged cat, whose head lifts at the prospect of company. They will find themselves being stared at by the one, single eye belonging to the creature, before yawning as he stretches his front leg over the covers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nick prefers a routine: he patrols in the morning, works at the headquarters in the afternoon, makes another round through the city streets in the evening. Past that is when he'd normally go home -- he'd sit on the couch, work out shifts and maps, transcribe posts on the network, all while in the company of Rey and Tripod. He could work in his office, but he liked taking it into the den where the two of them could talk. Sometimes they would, sometimes they wouldn't; sometimes, they'd just enjoy the silence and each other's company.

That routine has been disrupted for a month now, slowly shifting into a new one. After his evening rounds, he goes back to the office, stays until late in the night. Some nights, he walks the streets until morning, his mind elsewhere, same as his Rey -- as Safronov, as she's been for a while. If not for Tripod and Wellingham, he might not have gone home at all. It's not much of a home without his family, now is it?

He has her back now, but things haven't changed much: he still patrols late, coming home once a day -- usually late at night -- just to see if anything has changed. It's all the same so far: Wellingham in his bowl next to the succulent, Tripod in Rey's room, Rey on her bed, unmoving. Safronov indicated she could fix things, but as the days pass and Rey doesn't stir, Nick wonders if that was just something she said to placate him. It's easier to just keep patrolling, focusing on what he can do -- there's nothing he can do for her now.

And that's what he tells himself the night he comes home and things have changed. Rey might hear him out in the den, the telltale signs it's Nick wandering around all there: there's the sound of his coat sliding off his mechanical body, dropped onto the back of his easy chair; he crosses the room with his slightly uneven gait, one leg hitting the ground just a little heavier than the other, as it has since she repaired it; he stops where the fish sits near the window, murmuring a few words to him before letting out a heavy sigh from a breath that his artificial body didn't even need to take. The footsteps draw closer to her door and stop just outside it.

But he doesn't enter just yet, as though the fear of disappointment keeps him at the threshold. He's not used to that feeling. Then again, he wasn't used to having a family before this place, either, and just as he was getting used to it, he lost it. Maybe briefly, maybe permanently -- either way, it hurts like hell. Swallowing down his uncertainty, he pushes the door open.

Edited 2018-04-04 07:09 (UTC)

When Rey hears the front door open, she knows immediately that it's no mere visitor or intruder. She's still trying to process how much time had passed, between the flashes of memory from her precursor to the strange hazy bits in between.

She opens her mouth to call out to him, but her voices doesn't quite reach passed her throat. So rather than waiting, she throws the blanket off her legs, burying Tripod under the covers as she goes to swing her feet over the mattress.

There are so many things she needs to ask. About how long she had been out, if Safronov had done anything that she doesn't remember -- but most of all, how Nick is. If she were in his shoes, she knows how wrecked she would be. And while he might be a machine, he's got more of a heart than many flesh and blood men Rey has ever known.

Instead of any of those things or even a simple hello, what comes out is a surprised yelp and a harsh thud as her knees buckle upon her first attempt to stand.

By the time Nick enters the room, he finds Rey in a heap on the floor, trying to push herself upright with shaky arms.

Nick wasn't expecting anything, save for Tripod to glance at him with that single eye of his, refusing to budge from his vigil at the foot of the bed. Maybe that low level of expectation is one reason Nick is so surprised to hear the ruckus from the room. He cannot push that door open fast enough as he steps inside, his eyes landing on the floor and the woman who lies there. Like her, he opens his mouth to say something, but words just don't come; barely a whisper of a syllable gets through his throat before he's on his knees, trying to help her off the floor. He tries again, wanting to believe.

"Rey? Can you hear me?"

And the unspoken question: is it really you?

At the very least, she manages to make it far enough to sit, bringing her back to rest on the adjascent wall, her hand landing on his wrist when Nick goes to help her. The strain alone has her gasping seconds after his question. She must have spent too long in bed to have this much trouble getting out of it. Plus her brain is pounding.

"Had better hangovers, but yes. Loud and clear."

She groans, rubbing her temples.

Nick doesn't move as Rey leans on the wall and catches her breath, his gaze upon her, worry written across him; he's frozen still as she speaks, save for how wide his eyes get at the tone of her voice. It's just a handful of words, but it is her, undeniably Rey.

And that's when Nick takes hold of her, pulling her from the wall and into his arms. His grasp is careful, but quick, as though she might be lost again in an instant, his limbs shaking the entire time as his fingers tighten on the back of her shirt, refusing to let go. It's not the weight of her frame against him that makes him tremble; it's raw emotion, something a machine like himself shouldn't be capable of feeling. He's nothing but wires and metal parts, after all -- programming, a faulty memory, and the behaviors of a dead man housed in a mechanical shell. It's that inhuman, robotic nature that allowed him to connect with Rey in the literal and figurative senses, both of which made him a near ideal tool for helping sort through her memories. He worked hard, helped get her back, and here she is. It wasn't just another dead end, leading to the person he cares for most being taken from him and there being not a damn thing he could do about it.

But it's not enough for him to just see Rey, hear her -- Nick tries to hold it in, but he's nearly overcome with relief. He'll never be as human as most people in town, but the real Nick wouldn't have felt this strongly for her; the real nick wouldn't be struggling to breathe from having his truest friend, his family back. The real Nick could probably shed a tear or two.

And right now, the synthetic Nick would do that if he could, but his embrace will have to suffice for expressing just how happy he is to have not lost her forever.

For a moment, Rey can't help but wonder what's gotten into Nick. First he's not saying anything, now he's...

Well, she can't blame him. She was out for a while, wasn't she? And she had done... something, with her head. That much she knows. What for, she can't imagine, and maybe that's for the best. This isn't like with Gregory when he manipulated and wrote her memories. If whatever she did was enough to worry Nick so deeply, then she would do best not to repeat it.

Managing a shaky, slight smile, Rey dips her head, burying her face against Nick's shoulder. She can at least bring her arms up around his; it's her legs that aren't working well at the moment. But this? She can do.

"Hey, it's okay. Didn't fall down that hard," Rey says, hoping that some levity might help.

Doubtful, but she tried.

Her levity might have helped at any other time, but not now. He'd have something sharp to say if he wasn't struggling to find his voice to begin with.

"I thought you were gone," he finally mutters. He pulls in another breath, one as shaky as the last. "I thought I'd... that I'd never see you again. That I'd let you go off and do this, and that I'd lost you for good. I thought of a hundred things I should've said, or that I should've done, and none of it mattered because you were already gone."

And for that, he blamed himself, just like with Jenny.

Edited 2018-04-05 08:43 (UTC)

So maybe trying to crack a smartass remark didn't go as well as she'd hoped. She can't even bring herself to tell him not to worry, that everything is going to be all right, because she just has no guarantee for that.

Instead, her arms tighten around him more firmly. "Come on. What's there to say that you haven't said already? Or that I don't already know?"

Not that that's the point, and she knows it. If she were in Nick's shoes...

No, she can't think about that right now.

"I'm sorry. I... I was being selfish." She doesn't dare to phrase it like a question. For this, she has no one but herself to blame, regardless of the reasons. There's no excuse to hurt someone this way -- least of all someone you love.

"You were doing what you had to do, but..."

Nick trails off, his voice strangled in his throat; his voice modulator does a wonderful job of replicating the emotion laden in his tone. He finally releases Rey, his hands sliding down to grasp hers, but he can't bring himself to meet her eyes as he tries to regain his composure. He's supposed to be the string one here, isn't he?

"It's been a hell of a month without you." But it could have been worse. It could have been far, far worse, and for that, he's grateful.

Did she have to? Her mind wanders towards that question, but quickly draws back. There's no point in letting herself drown in guilt when it's already pulled her in its undertow for so long. And Nick suffered for it.

With a strained smile, Rey squeezes Nick's hands that take hers. She's awake now. Here. Sure, she might feel as though she's been run over by a truck, but she's not lost and gone forever like some who are.

"Safronov wasn't that bad, was she?" Rey scoffs, proving that she remembers a little bit of what happened and that there's no need for Nick to concern himself with dancing around too many subjects.

Rey continues to try to keep things light, but Nick can't even muster a smile for her -- not this time. Despite his minor relief at the prospect of not having to explain everything that went on during the month, there's still plenty of cause for concern.

Tripod wriggles his way out from under the covers; Nick's eyes flick to him, then to Rey, his brow tightening. "How much do you remember? About Safronov and what she's been doing? About what she did to get you back?"

The question comes like a pop in Rey's head, and she just blinks at Nick a moment.

"Um. Can remember some things, here and there... Not whole conversations, or anything like that, but the things she did, I... can remember that, sort of."

Which was probably Safronov's intent, considering the subject matter of many of those conversations.

Sort of. It's not a clear answer, but it's one Nick isn't going to push, either. She's not supposed to remember certain things -- Safronov had made that abundantly clear. There are some important parts he's going to have to bring up eventually, but for now, he lets it slide.

"It's good to have you back," he says finally, the silence having stretched a few seconds too long. He finds a safe topic: "You at least remember the new Null in town?"

The whole feel of the passing of time is still a little skewed for Rey. It's obvious that it's going to take a while for her to process being 'back'.

"Null..." Rey rubs her forehead after Nick's question, before it hits her. "Oh, you mean... Yes, I do. Probably a good thing Safronov had other problems to worry about, or she'd be hellbent on making scrap metal out of that thing."

And she wouldn't entirely be without good reason to.

"She wouldn't have been alone with that thought," Nick assures her, his eyes falling to his own, metal hand. He and Name might have a fair amount in common on the surface, but he's still on the fence about whether or not he really trusts the rogue Null. He doesn't think it's capable of deceit, not in the way folks might be expecting. It could accidentally lead the Null to them if its transmitter was repaired.

On the other hand, being able to find the Null might be one way to keep ahead of them. There's a lot to think about, and not enough concrete evidence just yet.

"Safronov didn't seem to keen on me, either," he admits. Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with her long, and she was willing to work with him when he did.

As Nick's attention falls to the metal hand -- a constant reminder to him of what he is -- Rey is the one to take his hand this time, fingers furling over the crude edges. Some might find the cold metal of his to be unnerving, but it's never bothered Rey in a long time. She offers a slight smile to remind him of this as well.

"It's nothing personal," Rey reasures him. Although he probably already knew, it never hurts to say it for posterity's sake. "She was infected by a synthetic. An AI, to be more specific, but... it was responsible for reproducing its own assembly line of synthetics. She tried to destroy it, but it was ready with a failsafe."

So it's impressive that Safronov allowed herself to be hooked up to Nick at all, considering the last time that happened. Though that part of Rey's memories are still a little hazy. Did Nick go into her head, or did Safronov do that solo?

Forsome reason, Rey just wants to avoid the headache of questioning it at all.

Nick wouldn't blame Rey for not wanting to dig too deep right now. He squeezes her hand, returning her smile despite the subdued frustration written in his brow. He can't change what he is, and sometimes, that's for the better; however, other times, it's not. He hasn't figured out how he's going to bring up his memory issues, but he knows he'll have to at some point.

"She said she was like a ticking time bomb," he explains, trying to meet Rey's eyes. "She might not've liked me or anything about the situation, but she worked hard to get you back. Hopefully, she understood how grateful I was and didn't think it was just clever programming. I don't know if she got just how much you mean to me."

One would take a look at someone like Nick Valentine and not expect clever programming to be at work there, but to Rey and so many people, he's more than that. Has been for a long time. Maybe Safronov saw a bit of that in Rey, though conveniently omitted some of those pieces from Rey's memory. She knows that Safronov spoke with Nick and Rose, but what about she couldn't begin to detail. She knows that she nearly stabbed Atem in the face and the photograph he gave her, but not much else about that talk. And when she tries to think about it, an electric jolt surges through her brain, and she's back to where she started.

"Doubt she wouldn't have bothered if that wasn't the case. It's not like she had anyone crying over her when she died."

A depressing thought, but it's a truth she knows rather intimately.

A depressing thought indeed, but one he doesn't doubt for a second. Safronov didn't have the warmest personality, but she got the job done. That's what really mattered in the end.

"You expecting a lot of tears at your funeral?" he asks, taking his turn to make light where he probably shouldn't. The very thought of Rey's death -- here or in her own world at the hands of IV -- makes him uncomfortable, pushes him to do what he can to keep her safe; however, even Rey can't deny the effect she's had on people, the connections she's made in the city and those who worried while she was trapped in her own head. If nothing else, maybe coming back will help her realize just how many people would miss her if she up and vanished. He knows she knows, but the game of getting her to admit it is one he enjoys.

They might not be as human as everyone else, but they're loved. That much is undeniable.

Indeed, Safronov was so effective at getting her work done that she never had the time for much else. Why would she, knowing what she was? It made sacrificing herself easier -- both the first time, and the next.

It's not something Rey prides herself on. Safronov's skills had helped her on more than one occasion, and this time was no different. Not even Nick can say otherwise.

For whatever reason she felt that what she did was necessary, all she can do is hope that it never happens again -- for her and Nick both.

"Hah, well. I wouldn't go expecting something like that for a long time."

Long as she can help it, anyway.

If there's anyone other than Rey who hopes this never happens again, it's definitely Nick. He makes a mental note to tie up a few loose threads once he's done here, ones that could unravel her memory if left hanging: he needs to call Henry and make sure he knows not to bring up Maketh, then maybe ask around the Clinic for who might've patched Rey that day during the Null invasion. If it keeps Rey in one piece, it's worth looking into.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he says as he gives Rey's hand another squeeze, drawing in a long breath and getting to his feet. "There's more we need to talk about, but let's focus on one thing at a time. It's nothing that can't wait a little while longer."

Rey might disagree when she hears just what all it is he's worried about, but it's not as though putting her first is uncharacteristic for the synth. It's just how he is.

While Nick is trying to sort out how to deal with this mess, Rey just nods and starts pulling herself up against the wall, back on her feet. Her knees were a little wobbly at first, but she's starting to not like having this conversation with Nick on the floor of all places. Not with those old robot joints of his.

"Uh-oh, that sounds bad," Rey teases as she offers a hand in case Nick needs help standing up as well. "How about we at least talk about it out in the other room, on chairs? Feels like I've been in this room too damned long."

Not just during her recent episode, but the period following Maketh's departure as well. As she recalls the devestation in the wake of that, her memory of it isn't quite as extreme as the reality of it. Which is probably for the best.

That comment gets a dry smile from Nick -- given how she spent a lot of her time following Maketh's departure in the floor of her bedroom, yeah. She's been holing herself in the room for far too long.

Tripod beats Nick to the door, as the latter is staying near Rey in case she needs to help. She's been out of it for a long time, and there's no telling just how much Safronov's fix has affected the rest of her. Considering she was on the floor when he came in, it's a legitimate concern. He offers his arm to her, just in case she needs to steady herself.

"How are you feeling?"

While her equilibrium needs some work, Rey at least can lean on Nick a little for guidance to the living room. She'll be fine once she's on the couch, or so she'd like to think.

"Well, I'd liken the feeling to being hit by a speeding Calvary, but seeing that I know for a fact what being hit by a speeding vehicle feels like, I'd say I'd take the Calvary over this." She rubs her forehead with her other hand as she walks. "Nothing I can't walk off, though."

At least her wits are seemingly still intact. That's something.

That is something indeed. With her makeup, Rey is one of the few who could walk off getting hit by a vehicle, but Nick worries all the same as he helps her into the den. Tripod leads the way, trying to weave between their legs as they walk, his ratty tail curling this way and that the entire time. Nick would say no one missed her more than him, but frankly, it's hard to tell with the cat around.

"At least getting hit by a car might not leave you as someone else entirely," he notes. "You've had more than a few folks worried about you."

you're part of a machine [OPEN/CLOSED]

30th, late night.

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