hadriel_logs | House Call [closed]

Entry tags:

nick valentine,
rey

House Call [closed]

Who: Rey (

circumitus) and Nick Valentine (

synthedick)
What: Synths are people, too... whether they like it or not.
Where: Rey's apartment (Spire Two, 301)
When: A few days after the end of the Assassin event
Warnings: PG-13ish; language, talk of suicide

Despite living only a floor above her, it had been a while since Nick had actually seen Rey, whether it was in the apartment building they shared or on the street during his daily patrols of the city. It seemed whatever the gods had done had finally dissipated: there was little word on the streets of more attacks, and even less talk on the network about them. The general unease and paranoia among the populace was settling down, leaving everyone in a state of relative ease until the gods came up with their next scheme. Nick had been in the city for mere months, but he was already seeing the patterns. It was only a matter of time.

Well, better use what time they had wisely. And so, he decided he'd check in on his neighbor, see if she was as back to normal as everyone else. He wasn't so worried about the injuries she'd sustained in the Colosseum at the beginning of the month so much as he was concerned about... other things.

He'd noticed it when he'd called her, asking if she was the one the girl on the network had mentioned -- a woman with scars could only be so many people in Hadriel, and he didn't know anyone who fit that description better than Rey. He'd expected she wouldn't be happy about someone interrogating her. Hell, he'd thought she might even be defensive in light of being accused of attacking a teenager; however, she'd seemed entirely too indifferent about it. Unaffected, emotionless. Blank, like an empty shell with no real, human response of its own.

And for someone whose entirely existence blurred the line between human and machine, between science and sentience, it was absolutely unsettling. Nick wasn't entirely sure what was going on in her head, but he wanted to find out, and help her if he could.

Nick stopped by her apartment on his way home from patrol, taking a moment to put his thoughts together before knocking on her door with his metal hand. Maybe she'd be better; maybe she'd just needed some time to decompress after what the gods had done to her. Either way, he didn't have a good feeling about all this. But at least he was feeling something, which was more than he could say for her.

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Detaching herself from her humanity was more difficult than Rey made it seem like. It isn't just a matter of flipping a switch and suddenly she stops caring; there is more psychology to it. Rey is more than just Rey -- she is the various women she had once been; they are as much her as she is them. So, changing herself is like changing into a new set of clothes.

She can just become someone else.

This was the original Rey. The empty vessel not yet made whole. She felt nothing. She was nothing. But at least she wasn't exposed to the world's pain like the later Reys would be. This, she believes, is an improvement. This is better. This is right and everyone, dictated by their own feelings, is wrong.

No matter how much she's changed, she still needs sleep. After spending weeks fighting for her life in the walls of a sky prison, she takes full advantage of rest whenever possible. When she does, she is met with a merciful, dreamless state. Yet another perk to the changes in her lifestyle. She almost doesn't wake when she hears the metal raps on her door.

Rey gets up, leaving the floor of her bedroom to check the door. Her limp is gone; the pain no longer plaguing her with every stride. She then takes a cautious glance through the peephole, and hesitates.

It's Nick. Of course. It isn't like he's far away or anything, though it had been a while since she had last seen him. Rey hadn't exactly made an active effort to reconnect with a whole lot of people. She may have shut herself off from her emotions, but she isn't stupid. She isn't blind to the fact that people would find her choices problematic, even if she does it for the greater good. Emotions are dangerous, and they can even kill people in this place. She has to be careful not to lose sight of that, no matter what anyone else thinks with their morals and whatnots.

While she's considering just not answering the door, a niggling instinct sends her hand to the knob. If she doesn't answer now, chances are the synth will only come back later, or just stand out there. It's not like he needs to eat or sleep or take any breaks. She can see this starting to become an issue.

With a sigh, she concedes. Opening the door a hair, she peers through the crack to see Nick on the other side.

"You need something?"

Something that is actually important? Who knows.

He wonders for a moment if she's even home, given she takes her time to answer; either she's away, or she's avoiding answering the door. She might be hellbent on detaching herself from humanity -- both hers and that of others -- but he's not exactly human himself. He can wait for as long as he has to for her to open the door, especially if it's important.

And this is. This is definitely important, whether she believes it or not.

He offers her a half smile, an unspoken greeting to preface his answer. She doesn't sound any better, and he gets the feeling this smile might be the only one he has for her for now. "Good to see you're home. Can we talk?"

Edited 2016-04-26 19:11 (UTC)

She doesn't move and, for quite a few seconds, Rey doesn't speak, either. Doesn't have to, really. Her empty stare speaks volumes.

"About what?" is what Rey eventually says.

No, she has a feeling that she already knows why Nick's here.

Nick gets the distinct feeling she's not going to make this easy. She's a fighter, through and through.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk about you."

Oh goodie, this is her least favorite subject to talk about. Rey exhales through her nose, composing herself before she speaks.

"What for? Am fine now."

Physically, at least.

His brow knits; he recognizes reluctance when he sees it.

"You don't sound fine, Rey. Let's talk."

She huffs, opening the door open only slightly more as she casts a glance away. "Why?"

So you can try and make her question her life choices and give more fuel to feed the gods again? Make her feel things that she'd rather not be feeling anymore? She'd rather not. Life is already hard enough having emotions without knowing that it gives something else power -- something that is corrupt.

Nick waits patiently for her to open the door and let him in herself, though he's well prepared to use his metal hand to keep it from closing, should she try to slam it in his face. He'd only been a little concerned before, but now that he's seen her and knows she's no better -- hell, she might even be a worse -- he is not leaving until they have this chat. The necessary conversations are never the easy ones.

"Because it doesn't take a detective to see something's wrong. I want to know what it is, and how I can help."

Rey isn't at the point where she's willing to open the door all the way just yet. It's like she's keeping a barrier between them, and it's surrounding her in general. Her personal bubble has developed an even wider radius than before, and Nick himself is a little too close for comfort at the moment.

"What makes you think your help is wanted? Perhaps things are better the way they are." Sure, she may be an unfeeling machine, but at least she isn't vulnerable anymore. She isn't being controlled by anyone to kill or hurt or anything. It's worth giving up your humanity, isn't it?

"Are they?" he cuts back -- it's a sincere question rather than a sarcastic remark, but he doesn't even wait for an answer before continuing.

"Look, word is that people's heads are clearing up. I wanted to make sure yours was doing the same. You sounded like you were keeping it under control when I spoke to you over the phone."

When a retort presents itself between Nick's sentences, Rey opens her mouth only to snap it back shut again. Her answer to his query would have been an obvious one, anyway.

"Yes, am keeping it under control. And am going to keep keeping it under control for as long as possible so that they can never do that sort of thing ever again." Not to Rey, at least. She refuses to be their victim, their puppet. She would rather die than to become someone's plaything again, and Rey is surprisingly of the inclination to continue living. At least for the time being.

It's about the gods, then. He can understand not wanting to let them get to her, to use her as a tool; however, he can't agree that this is the way to go about it. She seems so lifeless, so downright robotic in the way she talks to him, what human compassion she had locked away. This isn't the Rey he knows -- this isn't for the better.

"Yeah? How so?" he asks, wanting to hear her own explanation for just what it is she's doing, trying to understand what she's been through and where she's going with this.

"Think you know... or at least you think you do. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

It may not be the explanation Nick is looking for, but Rey isn't currently being the most accommodating individual. He's far from the first person to ever try and give her this talk -- she's had plenty of humanity speeches from her brother to know how this song and dance goes.

Well, her brother isn't here and Rey is free to make her own choices.

Nick sighs, trying to keep the disappointment from his face as he lowers his gaze. He's only partially successful as his brow furrows and his tone hardens.

"Yeah. It is."

He brings his eyes back to her. "You can't just shut yourself down like this. Close off what makes you you."

That disappointment is difficult to miss. Rey may be cut off from the feeling side of herself, but she's still perceptive and can read people well enough. Or as well as someone like Rey can possibly understand other people, let alone a synth.

Her eyes narrow, but her expression remains neutral. "When you get down to it, there has never really been a 'me'. Just borrowed fragments from ghosts here and there."

Who 'Rey' really is has always been something of a difficult subject matter, especially when you share the memories of eight different women.

He meets her forcibly neutral expression with one of concern. There is little difference between what she's saying and how he describes himself from time to time; they're both artificial, yet both more than machines, no matter how they may deny it in their moments of self-doubt.

"Believe me, I know what it's like to be not much more than the ghost of someone who's long gone. But that doesn't mean you haven't been someone folks have come to know while here. Someone they respect. They care about."

As Nick talks, Rey's grip on the door tightens. It takes every ounce of willpower not to just slam it in his face right then and there, but that would result in mustering anger. Anger is what got her in this situation in the first place. Anger would only give Rage more power. She's determined not to do that, and stifles the sentiment as quickly as it's emerged.

"What could you possibly know what that's like, having the lives of other people in your head? Constantly reminding you that you're not really you?"

Forgive her, Nick. She does not know.

Nick's eyes flare, sudden and undeniable hurt crossing him in an instant. His metal hand closes in on itself as he stifles a sigh, doing his best to cover for his own insecurities. He tears his eyes away, then resettles them squarely on hers; he doesn't have the proper organs for it, but he still feels frustration well in his gut. He's aware she couldn't have known how closely she cut him, how deeply, but damn if it didn't hurt for her to remind him of the kind of person he is: the kind that isn't a person at all.

They're not particularly close, he and Rey, but he can't help that in the brief time he's known her, he's come to see her as a kind of a kindred spirit: someone who isn't quite human through no fault of her own, but someone who can -- and wants, strives -- to be more. He just had no idea just how similar they could be.

And that's one reason he's so bothered by this change in her: she's seemingly lost that spark that makes her human, that sets her apart from other tools and machines. She's shut away what identity she had, and that's a painful sight for someone who has been struggling with his own identity ever since he woke up as a discarded prototype with a fuzzy past and no foreseeable future.

"That's all I am, Rey," he admits, fire edging into his voice. What he's saying is personal, something he wouldn't normally disclose, but he needs her to understand, to see why it is he's on her doorstep. "The real Nick Valentine has been dead for two hundred years. All that's left of him is a sham, a mechanical copy incapable of ever being anything more than that. I've got a personality that isn't mine and a head full of memories belonging to another man. Everything I am is because of someone else... someone real."

Edited 2016-04-27 10:05 (UTC)

It doesn't take much for Rey to know that she's hit a mark. She can see the visceral reaction that she isn't used to seeing from the synths of her world. Either Nick's feelings are somehow more genuine than she had pegged, or they did a pretty good job at programming him to simulate human nature. Either seems to be perfectly liable options.

His response hits a little too close to home, though. Rey's shoulders slacken, as she stands there for a few solid moments just staring at him, her visage remaining unchanged. She knows she should be feeling something right then. That Nick just divulged a piece of himself that he wasn't comfortable with sharing in the first place, and that she has a level of deep understanding of how that is. She should. But she can't feel anything. She can't allow herself to open up even a little or that could risk unleashing the whole floodgates and, no, she can't have that. Not again.

"Apologies. Didn't know." She knows it isn't the first time she's said something like this to him, and it should hurt. Despite her words, her tones still make it difficult to tell whether or not she's being sincere. The problem is, she's being a little too sincere to discern any hint of what she may be thinking or feeling when she speaks. Things just fly out of her mouth like an automated response, something that you're supposed to say when you know you've hurt someone but don't know how to make it right. She can't make Nick happy with her choices, and she can't allow herself to be happy, and that's the story.

It's a lose-lose situation, either way. At least, Rey certainly seems to think so.

After a moment, she looks back to him before finally taking the plunge. She nudges the door open a little more, retreating a step so that the synth can actually enter the rather lonely apartment. "You can come in, if you want. To talk."

It isn't an emotional response, but at least his confession elicits something from Rey, even if it is just a flat apology and permission to continue their conversation inside. Taking her invitation, he nods and steps across the threshold, waiting for her to close the door before making himself any more at home.

He keeps his eyes on her, watching for any further reaction as he waits for her to take a seat. Even if he didn't have some fundamental understanding of what she's going through, he can put the pieces together easily enough: she'd been forced to feel anger, to fight the desire to harm someone else. She'd been used, and in a city where emotions are all it takes to help the gods -- both the good and the bad -- they can be dangerous. If what she says is true, that she's somehow made up of the lives of other people and their memories, then the baggage that comes with them can only exacerbate the situation. He knows that from personal experience, having had more than once where old memories clouded his judgment, determined what he'd do well before he saw reason.

So she's shut it all away, deciding it's safer for someone like her to feel nothing. Hell, maybe it is safer, given what she can do -- those scars and the metal skeleton aren't just for show -- but... it isn't better. It isn't an improvement to be a soulless machine over a compassionate person.

She's trying to bury them, but her emotions, that compassion, are still there, and he knows it. If she really didn't care even the slightest bit, she'd have left him on her doorstep. She's still in there somewhere, and Nick is determined to find her. After all, finding people is what a detective does best.

And he's no simple machine, either. He's a detective, first and foremost.

Once Nick is inside, Rey takes a moment to shut the door behind him. If it's a reaction he's looking for, he's not going to get much, as she avoids his gaze by heading into the living area. There, a table with some chairs is set up, as well as a couch to also sit at. Rey chooses the table, which at least offers some distance between her and Nick, which she feels more comfortable with.

Seating herself down into one of the chairs, she stares at the wall briefly before casting a sidelong glance to Nick. He isn't saying anything yet and she isn't surprised. She recognizes what he's trying to do.

"Have a seat wherever you'd like. Doesn't matter."

It's better than just watching him stand there, watching her back. She doesn't ask him if he wants anything since she knows he doesn't need to eat or drink. Also, she's never really been much of a host before.

Edited 2016-04-28 02:18 (UTC)

The lack of a reaction can be just as telling to someone with a keen eye for details. She dodges his gaze as she finally picks her seat; he does the same, taking the chair across from her, letting the table provide a barrier between them. It wasn't so long ago that he was seated like this at his desk, looking across it at his clients, trying to read them the same way he's trying to read her. They weren't like her, though -- they weren't like him, either.

But the two of them have some common ground, and that's a start. "Has it always been like that for you?" he asks, getting right down to it; he knows she's unlikely to pick up the conversation on her own, given what she's doing. "Other people in your head, making you question who you are?"

Her immediate intention is to try and find something else to talk about. Somehow deflect the conversation away from her. Nick just revealed something significant about himself and she has a feeling that he doesn't disclose those details to just anyone.

But then he had to go and start talking about her identity crisis and the women living inside her memories instead. She just draws in a sharp breath before she can formulate a coherent response.

"No. Over the last several decades, when spending time living as those women, most of them weren't made aware that they weren't human." More often than not, it was blissful ignorance. "Am the only one who ever obtained all of their memories at once. It was... painful."

At least none of her predecessors had the sort of pain that the Rey now does. Did.

He's still watching her every move, though he flicks those glowing eyes of his away every now and then. He's been told a time or two that they can be unsettling; they're a constant reminder of the fact he isn't as human as he seems, as he often feels.

"And I thought I had it bad with the memories of one guy in my head," he replies. "Having multiple must be hard. You wake up, not knowing what's real and what isn't, what you've lived and what you've done as opposed to someone you'll never be."

He doesn't know if that's true for Rey, but it's certainly been his experience.

If Rey had feelings, the eyes may be a bother. As it is, she doesn't, and lacks the ability to care enough to be troubled by the aspects that make Nick less than human. Or appear as such. It isn't like he is the first synth she's met with an unsettling gaze.

Her jaw tightens and her mouth is snapped shut. The last thing she wants from anyone is sympathy. For them to look at her like she's a victim. Being victimized would mean that she has lost, and she can't have that. Not from anyone. And yet...

"Wanted to die." For her choice of words, she sounds even more removed from her emotions, now more so than ever. And with good reason, too. "When all the memories were returned, wanted nothing more than to just end all of it. Spent a few years having gone insane from it. Probably still am insane. But at least it doesn't have to hurt so much anymore. It doesn't have to hurt at all."

It's quite a subject to drop on someone. But hey, Nick is the one who wants to be here. He is the one who wants to talk. Perhaps the more she explains, the less he'll want to do with her. He'll figure that she's too much a bag of crazy to put up with and walk out. She always figured that her brother stayed because he was her brother; he had that sense of familial bond that kept him grounded to her. Nick has no such obligation to her, though. He can leave and there would be no hard feelings; not from Rey.

Her expression hardens. "Never want to go through something like that again."

She doesn't know if she will ever experience that level of pain and anguish she had when she had first awoken to all of her memories restored. It isn't a risk she's willing to take. Far as she is concerned, she should have done this a long time ago. It would have solved a hell of a lot of problems.

Edited 2016-04-28 04:21 (UTC)

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cw: suicide stuff