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

[goddamngrenades]

York gets his head regenerated and his leg patched up, a prescription of painkillers that he'll probably ignore. He'd rather be clear and ready than muzzed up and useless.

It is what it is. Mal's sick. Mal's sick, again, because of this place. Because the suit wasn't good enough or damn near antyhign else and this might not have a cure. This might be a stopgap. He might have to put a bullet in him.

They give York some time alone to breathe. To think. To shake out everything before he shuffles to Malcolm's room, knocking on the door. "Hey, boo."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

There is only the barest inclination of his head as response. Everything's too cluttered, somehow too loud and too quiet, tense and hard to breathe. There's some lotion slathered down the spots that can be seen and the spots that can't. The lightest shade of a small bruise just beginning to form at the injection site. He is too small and greyscale compared to York's big bold light.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"...hey." He takes those few steps forward, reaching out for a moment before letting his hands drop back down to his side. Crouches instead to look up into Malcolm's face. Get a bead on how he's feeling. "You wanna go home?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He can't quite manage frustration at the feeling of tears prickling. Never been one for tears, always one to hold them back even if they do come. Always have to suck it up, stiff lip, chin up.

Nothing comes out when he first opens his mouth. Yes is a possible answer. But how does he articulate what he wants in this moment? "I-" Take a breath, breathe. "Do you ever think," he starts again, carefully, though not without a waiver to it, "about stopping?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"...Used to." He murmurs, voice low and soft and gentle. "And then I remember what it was like. Being stopped."

A lot of nothing.

A lot of cold. A lot of dark. A lot of numb- nothing. You are or you aren't. It's an absolute absence of everything that makes a person a person and he'd unwound in his own suit. The place he'd always expected to be in the last way he thought it'd ever happen.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"It's still...stopping. Stopping sounds nice." Maybe he can try again in another life. Maybe, with the kind of technology that's here, they could rebuild a new body, upload a fresh copy. Try again, but with everything untainted.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Mal..." He dares to reach up, now. Curl his fingers around Malcolm's, a sole line of contact. "How about a hotel instead? Just- somewhere different. Somewhere quiet."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"So I can lose my mind somewhere else?" His laugh is wet, coughs out of him. "Until something else happens to keep me from being me?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"We're working on the- the port thing. They're fixing a cure for this." Still it's that question. The one he'd responded to on the way here. He swallows back- everything. Every fucking little thing and tips his head forward, resting it against Malcolm's knee. "...are you sure?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He didn't want to freak York out, but this is the opposite reaction he expected. He's so...soft. Doesn't accuse, doesn't--doesn't judge. Malcolm bends, curls over him, cradling both of them.

"I don't want to leave you alone. I don't want to do that to you. I should be stronger, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we can--go somewhere." He wants to stop and he wants these tears that have slipped out to stop, but he'll try to put those disquieting thoughts aside. This is temporary. Everything is...well, some of it is temporary. He just has to get through to the other side. Even if he can't see it. Even if it sounds like a fairytale.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

He's been there. Yelling, asking, begging- it doesn't- it wouldn't have helped him. He cant' imagine what it's been like for Malcolm and he just-

he said he would. He said he would if Malcolm was sure. And he's keeping his end of the bargain, making sure that Malcolm is sure. No gun here but he can- he can take him home and make it quick. God then the apologies. The fucking apologies that Malcolm can't help and he sucks in a shuddery breath. "Home. Hotel. Spa. Fuck'n- I don't care. As long as you're with me and you- whatever you want, Mal. Whatever you need."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"I need to be myself. I don't-I don't know who I am." He's too angry, he's too happy, he's got voices in his head telling him what to do. He does things without realizing. He loses limbs, replaced with fakes. He can't handle meat because all he can think of is fucking cannibalizing monsters who were once people, and those monsters feasting on those who still are people. He thinks about turning, the feeling of turning, even once upon a dream. Craving people around him. "Who the hell am I?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Malcolm Reed, Tactical officer of the USS Enterprise. You love pineapple even when it could make you sick, love explosions even when you're more concerned with discretion. You're terrified of water but are the bravest man I know for looking at that and going 'fuck drowning, i'm going into space.' like it's nothing." He leans back to look Malcolm in the eye, his own bright. "You're a soldier first, a tactician, a spy, a fighter."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

These are all facts. Facts that are true or were once true about him. He wants to go back, how everything was when he got here. How things were before that. How things were before the war. Forever ago. Too much looking at the past. Trying to remember the last time he gave an honest smile.

"Sounds like someone I'd get along with. I hope to meet him again one of these days."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"We'll get him back." Nevermind that he's technically been with this warped version of Mal longer than he's been with the original. Nevermind that he's quietly terrified that when, it's gonna be a when, they get everything fixed Mal won't- want anything to do with him anymore.

Nevermind any of that.

"You're my best friend, here."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He holds his breath for longer than he'd care to admit. Swallows around the massive lump in his throat. "More than that. Right?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"I love you." Easy as breathing. Honest as anything. "You know that."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"I'm bad at saying--I don't express--" So many excuses. He's full of bloody excuses. "I'm sorry I'm doing this. Putting you through this. You've had worse. I shouldn't--" no, do not go there, he doesn't want to go all compliance in the middle of all of this. "Thank you."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"I get the feeling it makes you uncomfortable. When I say it. Because you can't." He slides his hand to the side of Malcolm's face, running his thumb along his cheek. "We'll be okay."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"I think it makes you uncomfortable when I don't say it back. But I wouldn't still be with you if I didn't." And that's that. It has to be.

He leans into York's hand, sniffling, trying to sort himself back under some guise of control. Can't tell if York really believes what he says, but better for one of them to at least pretend. For a little while. "Do you think this will go away with a little time? This...feeling. This want. Of stopping."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"I grew up in the south and I'm a soldier." he shrugs, leaning forward to bump their foreheads together. "It's okay. You're you. If I didn't like you just how you are I would probably have a problem with it. You're still with me after- after everything. So I don't need to hear it."

Not as badly as some people might think.

"...It fades, for me, if i find something in the here and now that makes me happy. So I usually just- go find you."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"You're really very sweet, Taylor." It's not a smile, but it does spark some kind of warmth somewhere in him. "Far sweeter than I deserve. For someone as miserable and maligned as me."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Ma had a lot of candy when she was pregnant with me. Or, well, so she said." He slips a hand free from Mal's and cradles his other cheek, framing his face easily. "You're not always miserable. or maligned. It's just been a shit coupla months."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"Moment of weakness. I'm very tired." Tired. It's all come to a head, a last straw. "Guess," he says, clearing his throat, "I should probably go find someone...professional to talk to. Like you've suggested. Before I do anything we'll both regret. Anything else."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"I think...that's a good idea. I can find you a number if you need a referral." His doc wouldn't- it wouldn't be the best idea. "As for the tired...maybe we should spend a few days somewhere nice? somewhere not home. With a big jacuzzi tub and room service."