. .. IC Contact | Duplicity .. .

[konstant]

                                                                 

You've reached the electronic inbox of KD6-3.7. 

Leave your pertinent details and I will return contact as soon as possible.

Comments

[konstant]

They talked about this before Jesus went in; not this specifically but feeling things out, getting first hand knowledge of how things work.

He watches Jesus talk, watches as closely as he can when all he wants is not to be upright anymore, but he never complains. And he does want to know even if there's nothing he can do about it.

"I -" He doesn't feel sick but he doesn't feel good. He won't say he doesn't know again though. "Things just hurt. Light hurts."

[hippie_ninja]

"I can go," he says softly, and he will, if K says. He doesn't want to leave K like this, though. If he was so sick, if things were so bad for him he couldn't answer doors or messages, he worries about him being alone.

(He has a weapon with him and part of him, a not entirely conscious part, thinks if K changes sometime in the night someone who cares about him should be there to put him down when he turns.)

[konstant]

It wouldn't have occurred to him to ask Jesus to come here or to stay, but he's here now and K hears him offer to go and something in his chest twists hard enough his breath catches.

"Can you - stay? Just a while?" He feels terrible even asking, knowing he's not very focused, not talking. But the thought of being alone again aches.

[hippie_ninja]

He hopes that his own relief is obvious and he hopes that K, seeing it, won't feel so compelled to be apologetic about wanting Jesus there.

"I can stay as long as you want." He relaxes and smiles as much as his torn lip allows. "Have you eaten? I can order us something."

They can't technically buy, but there are workarounds. He's found people willing.

[konstant]

There are signs of food around, small things Orla left for K even though she herself isn't here anymore. He tries to remember if he did eat. It doesn't matter though. Jesus is here and staying and he said us, so K nods.

"Thank you," he says to both. "Whatever you want."

[hippie_ninja]

He thumbs through his phone until he finds a place willing to deliver to LIERs, and he reminds himself to pick up extra shifts at Marked to make up the lost time to Vrenille. Vrenille who won't ask him for that time, who wants only for him to be safe, and the thought of that--and of what a strange community he's landed in--makes his mind falter.

Yeah, it's for the best he's staying in tonight. He would have either way but he's deeply grateful he doesn't have to do it alone.

After he hangs up he shakes his head. "I'm sorry- I didn't know the menu so I just ordered us the same thing." Number One Combos: Turkey sandwiches with sodas. "I should've asked you."

[konstant]

"It's okay." K is the furthest from a picky eater and nothing sounds good, so he doesn't mind. He's rubbing his temples again while he listens to the other man talk, trying to focus. "Thank you."

Trying to focus, concentrating on his breathing, and the brief flicker he saw from Jesus both when he asked him to stay and just now.

"What day is it?" How long ago was Saturday?

[hippie_ninja]

"Monday." The full force of his worried face is now focused on K. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

[konstant]

He would not have guessed Monday, and for someone with an internal clock like his, that's it's own kind of distressing.

He rubs his temples harder until he feels his headache pounding behind his eyes and has to stop.

"I woke up here. I'm not sure how long ago but the last I remember for sure - I was in the Up on my way to Scratch. Thursday?"

[hippie_ninja]

He gets to his feet--wincing just a little bit--and takes a step closer, then hesitates. "Can I?" Examine him.

[konstant]

He's aware abruptly that though he does genuinely want Jesus here, he doesn't want to be touched. His head is such a mess right now though that he doesn't know how much is real and how much is everything in him trying to curl up and heal, and anyway, he does trust Jesus.

He nods, and straightens up from where he's leaned forward on his knees, offering Jesus carte blanche. There's nothing though. He's cool to the touch even for a normal human, and he shivers occasionally, but there isn't a mark on him that explains anything.

He thinks about it while he tracks Jesus's movement around him. "I think... I thought it was a dream but I think. There was a blade runner."

[hippie_ninja]

There is very little touch in the exam, at least, and what there is is professional and practiced. You learn fast how to assess people in his world, to know who is worth carrying forward and who won't make it.

A blade runner.

He doesn't have to know the full scope of what they can do to be appropriately concerned. Especially when he thinks of the timing, thinks of Rosita's mangled, modified Abraham, thinks of his own shifting monster as it kept pace with him through the streets.

"They hurt you?" Is the one thing he can't put a finger on, because K appears to be completely unharmed.

[konstant]

"He must have." It was a blade runner, and K is a rogue replicant. He hasn't been trying to think about it left alone in this room but now Jesus is here and K focuses on the sound of his breathing and makes himself try.

"I've been... Dreaming about one. And about -" Thinking too hard about the manufacturing line brings the sweltering darkness rushing back and he grips the edge of the bed, dizzy. "I woke up in the bathtub. Orla found me. I think he retired me."

[hippie_ninja]

"It's okay," his voice is soothing, low. There's a particular pitch to Jesus's voice when he's trying to comfort someone; it's comfort offered by someone who has seen the world end and still believes what he's saying.

He sits cross-legged, not touching K or reaching for him, but there in case he loses his balance or needs to be caught.

"We were all facing things from home that week." Meaning they're gone now, and no one is going to come retire K again. And if they tried, Jesus would be there to sneak K away.

"How often do you dream about him?"

[konstant]

He starts to shake his head, stops when it swims; his grip stays tight on the mattress, fingers digging into the sides like a bird on a branch.

"Not before the storms. I used to -" He swallows, considers stopping, but he's come this far. All he wanted while he worked the last case for the LAPD was someone else to talk it through with and now he has that, so he tries.

"There's. When I try to remember what happened there's... A dream I've always had."

[hippie_ninja]

Dreams are taboo territory for a lot of people, especially people Jesus knows. But recurring ones, he's always believed, can point to things if you're willing to untangle them. K seems to want that.

"What happens?"

[konstant]

"It's not what happens. It's... I don't know if it's a memory. It's supposed to be impossible. Rumors."

Did they keep you in a drawer when they were building you? Dark.

And right there in his baseline script even though he agrees: it's impossible.

"When they're building us, they pull us off the line, store us on hangers. Ship us in boxes, in wrappers, when we're paid for, then install the software. Everything that makes us distinct. It's not possible for us to remember anything before we're brought online. But when I have a bad dream it's dark, and it's close, and I can't breathe, and I'm alone."

[hippie_ninja]

In one sense, it doesn't matter if it's a real memory or not. It's affecting K the same way a memory would.

K describes a particularly horrible iteration of dreams Jesus himself has had: being alone and trapped, moved around with no way to move himself. Being completely at the mercy of indifferent forces he could never hope to stop. And given what he knows about K... He'd be surprised if someone as compassionate as K didn't have those fears.

It doesn't make it any less terrible.

"You've had that dream before you came here?"

[konstant]

He nods, and convinces himself to relax his grip on the side of the bed finger by finger, muscle by muscle.

He's shivering again, faintly, but constant.

"And when I try to remember details about what happened. I think... He put me there somehow. This time." He doesn't try to explain the previous times he's had that dream.

[hippie_ninja]

"You don't have to remember the details." In fact he might be better off without them. God knows no one survives by remembering every scare and every drop of blood, every nearly missed fatal moment. "Not if you can keep yourself centered here instead."

[konstant]

"I'm missing days. Worrying people." Jesus said he didn't answer the door before, and there are messages on his phone he hasn't been able to answer; he's not good at answering any questions right now.

"I'm sorry."

[hippie_ninja]

"You can explain to them when you feel better." Anyone who worries will just be glad to know he came through healthy. Anyone who doesn't make allowances for illness doesn't know how lucky they are.

"Just think about where you are right now. Our food is going to be here soon," he glances at the window but the shades are drawn. "And it might help."

[konstant]

Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. Maybe he'll feel better or maybe he'll break down from here. He doesn't know.

He reaches behind him and pulls the blanket back up around his shoulders, tries to settle it there and think of something to say to that.

"I'm glad you're here."

[hippie_ninja]

"I can stay the night if you want." He won't even be breaking a law if he does. And if K allows it, maybe Jesus being here will help him rest a little easier.

He gets up when the food arrives, limping slightly and only too glad to come sit again. "I'm glad we're staying in."

[konstant]

K does want him to, he knows the moment he hears it. He still feels bad about it but he says, "Orla moved out."

The bed on the other side of the room, if nothing else, is open.

But he watches Jesus walking, focusing like he'd said on the here and now, flinching back from the light but settling again by the time he says, "You are hurt."