Voicemail 2.0

[goddamngrenades]

You have reached the voice mail system of Officer Taylor Murray.

When you are finished recording, just hang up or press pound for more options.

To request a locksmith or report a crime, press one.

To hear these options in Spanish, press dos.

To send a verbal confirmation of a written command, press three.

To send a written confirmation of a verbal command, press four.

For delivery options, press five.

To page this person, press six.

To locate your nearest operator, press seven.

To leave a call back number, press eight.

To repeat this message, press nine.

Press zero for other options.

To mark this message as urgent, press eleven.

Thank you for calling, have a nice day.

BEEP


Comments

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He's not well. Well, he had a good run there, but it was only inevitable that he'd get sick again. Although the dry rash spots are new; hasn't seen that since flying into a very unfortunate part of space leaving dry cracks 'like old oil paintings' he'd heard... The itchy eyes make him think allergies, and lord, that would be terrible if they'd made a return.

It's worrying, but it certainly isn't keeping him in bed. Malcolm hates being inactive even when sick. Besides, lunch won't just make itself, and he's not about to have York go get something for him. Just whip something up, pop it in the oven...no big deal. He's still got an appetite. Even if it still isn't for meat.

The problem starts with the sticky oven door. He's been meaning to get that greased up and seen to since before heading down into the sewer, but, well, then the sewer happened. Damn thing doesn't want to open. And takes a good deal of tugging to wrench open.

When it persists on sticking, he lets out an exasperated sigh, thinks he should just go get a little oil, and--

--something else takes over, something mindless and aggressive and willing to take out such aggression on the first annoying thing it sees. The oven door? Gets a robotic leg through it. Sweeps an arm across the nearest counter, knocking spices, a container of to-be-baked goodness, a knife rack to the floor. Cabinets get ripped open, fragile plates and glasses grabbed and thrown. Whatever is inside him is angry, but at what, nobody could say. Stepping on the broken shards doesn't help any when it beats the toaster into submission, or when he goes a little nutty at the shiny fridge and the reflection in the chrome surface. Whatever it is is about to take a good swing at the fridge and start making their food situation pretty nasty when--

--grease that damn door up. ...Wait...what...just happened...?

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

He'd heard the initial clatter. The damn oven door sticking again and he sighs, rolling off the sofa to go help. He really needs to grease the damn thing up but then there's more than a clatter, there's a goddamn cacophony and Mal is not so quietly losing his SHIT in the kitchen. Duke's scrabbled his way under the sofa and York- he's never seen Malcolm like this. It doesn't make sense it's just a goddamn door and he manages to duck the first thing thrown.

Tries to get in close, tries to calm him down, all open hands and soft voice and shh, boo, shh, it's okay come on just talk about this-

Which is how he gets the mug right in the face and the follow through kick (not with the bionic leg thank god) that knocks his legs out from under him. Swearing on the floor he shoves himself away till, well. Till it passes. Pressed up against the wall, arms up, bleeding from a cut on his hairline and just- saying everything that he's been saying the whole time.

"-onna be okay, it's okay you're home, you're safe, there's no one else here Malcolm it's just you and me, okay? You're safe, I promise you're safe."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"Wha..."

The kitchen is a disaster area, as if some particularly nasty tornado had torn the room apart, or at least part of it. His hands and his feet have cuts, and there aren't many safe places to stand. But he was just--wasn't he just--?

Is that York? He has to swallow down the rising panic, the fear bubbling up, or try to at least when he turns to York. York who's on the floor against the wall and defensive, and hurt, and talking to him.

"Taylor?" His voice is quiet, questioning, urgent, while he flexes his fingers, brings them to his chest. All of a sudden afraid to move.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"You're home, you're safe, it's just us okay? It's just us- and duke but he's in the other room it's okay it's-" It's okay. It's gonna be okay because he won't let it not be okay because they're fine. It's fine. Whatever has Malcolm all wound up they can talk through and it'll be. it'll be fine. He lowers an arm to get a good look at him, blood blinding one eye in a red smear, the rest of him made as small and harmless as possible.

He goes still.

Swallows.

"...Malcolm? Are you with me, boo?"

Day 299, Night - Text;

[pastdoesntdefine]

I'm joining the mission to find the cure. We leave in the morning.

How is Malcolm doing? How are you doing?

Day 299, Night - Text;

[goddamngrenades]

I'm alright, not sick. Mal's sick and he's...he had a fit a few days ago. Trashed the kitchen. Threw a mug at me. Got him the booster but he had a ...moment. A really deep moment of suicidal ideation and he's talking to a therapist now.

Day 229, Night - Text; (whoops date typo)

[pastdoesntdefine]

He told me. Mentioned he was losing time, getting aggressive. [He maaaaay have skipped mentioning the suicidal part, though] ..I'm glad he has you there for him. And that he's talking to someone.

I'm not infected either. It's one of the reasons I'm going. I know how to fight those things if needed. We'll make sure to bring back what they need for the cure.

Day 229, Night - Text; (sokay i didn't even notice)

[goddamngrenades]

Someone's gotta hold down the fort. Liz and Mulder are heading out so I'm sticking here. I can't...I can't leave him like this. You stay safe out there, okay?

Day 234 - midmorning - text

[250mhzwabl]

hey is this the police

I have an emergency

Day 234 - midmorning - text

[goddamngrenades]

pants emergencies do not count.

What's the situation, citizen?

Day 234 - midmorning - text

[250mhzwabl]

yeah I figured as much that's why I said just one

and there's too much ice cream here for me to eat

I think I heard somewhere not eating all the ice cream is a crime

when will you be free to protect and serve

Day 234 - midmorning - text

[goddamngrenades]

I'm off my beat in fifteen. Where is this Ice Cream Emergency?

Day 236; Night - Text

[pastdoesntdefine]

[ They're still a few hours out when word is passed back that they're finally in reach of the outermost signal towers, the ones that still send and receive signals with the Dome.

Tired and achy as she is, Carolina hasn't been able to settle, to rest. So now is as good a time as any to see if she can send a message with news. ]

Objective complete. No casualties, some injuries. Homeward bound, should be back soon.

Day 236; Night - Text

[goddamngrenades]

All quiet here. Everyone's still stable.

Day 236; Night - Text

[pastdoesntdefine]

[ That's a relief. ]

That's good. Hopefully it won't take long to extract what they need for a cure.

[ That it might not work? Not something she even remotely wishes to consider. ]

Day 236; Night - Text

[goddamngrenades]

They're working overtime in the labs getting the boosters out. Most of the dome's innoculated with that already though i'm pick'n up scragglers.

263 afternoon text

[tactical_alert]

At Carolina's. Open invitation. We are drinking; you don't have to, but company provided whenever you can get off.

263 afternoon text

[goddamngrenades]

Think I might just to both of those. Be there in fifteen.

288 - Afternoon; text;

[pastdoesntdefine]

[ She spent the morning talking with Malcolm. Took an hour to think through what she wanted, what she needed to do. York was at work when she'd stopped by, but she didn't want to leave a message. This was something she needed to do in person. ]

Hey.

I need to talk to you. When's a good time?

288 - Afternoon; text;

[goddamngrenades]

[ He'd kept his distance. Got patched up, went back to work. Boots on the ground, kept going forward like always. A solid week and a lot of the ache is gone even if the sting hasn't.

Not so sure he should answer- but the kneejerk reaction to let her sit and sweat is stupid, childish, and petty and he's grown past that shit enough to suppress it. ]

I'm off shift in five.

288 - Afternoon; text;

[pastdoesntdefine]

[ She'd be the last person to blame him if he decided to make her sweat. That he replies, though is a relief. ]

Okay. I'll see you there? Or is home better for you?

[Hers or his - his would probably better. She'd already spoken to Malcolm, after all.

288 - Afternoon; text;

[goddamngrenades]

[ Neither, is his gut reaction. Somewhere public, somewhere neutral- but that won't work for several reasons- namely their joint paranoia and Clair's previous anxieties about being secure.

Her apartment's a no go, he won't be returning if he can help it. That leaves the house. ]

Home's good. Mal will let you in if you get there before I do.

Voicemail;

[pastdoesntdefine]

York.

[there's a pause, filled with shuffling, with a faint mewf in the background, and a slow breath being taken.]

..Taylor. It's done. Delta thinks we've been successful in locating and isolating the trigger for whatever compliance was done to me. We'll be doing some follow-up checks, making sure it holds, but.. I just wanted to let you know.

Voicemail;

[goddamngrenades]

Sooo...takeout and a movie, our place? Or your place. Your call.

Voice

[pastdoesntdefine]

[there's a small huff of breathy laughter]

Yours. Malcolm insisted. I'll be bringing Lela too, as long as that's all right.