come with me into the trees

[adorabastard]

Who: Alistair and OPEN
Where: Forest Park, not far from the Dead District.
When: Sunday morning.
What: Jogging. (Possibly Blood Keys.)
Warnings: None. Will update if needed.


Alistair's sleep had, somehow, become even worse in recent days. And so, even though the subject matter was markedly different his usual dreams (demons? really?), Alistair did what he usually did when he had trouble sleeping. He increased his physical activity during the day.

After extending his time with his usual workouts didn't help, he decided that a change of scenery was in order. Something more soothing than his ... remarkably tranquil exercise room. Something outdoors, perhaps.

Forest Park wasn't the most scenic area, nor was it particularly well kept. But hopping over a few fallen branches never hurt anyone. Well, anyone who actually made the jump.

With a little smile and a deep breath of some of the freshest air the city had to offer, Alistair started out, setting a brisk pace through the trees.

Comments

[reincarnationception]

Daniel, as it turns out, had had a similar idea. Seeing a fellow jogger, he started keeping pace, it's always nice to have someone to run with it tends to shave seconds if not minutes off your time.

[adorabastard]

Although Alistair wasn't going for any particular time, he remembered all too well the many years when he had worked to keep his run time as low as possible. First in football, then in the military. It was actually a bit of a struggle for him to go jogging simply to jog, not to increase his speed.

So it should have come as no real surprise when old habits kicked in. The moment that Daniel began keeping pace, Alistair sped up just slightly. A challenge for the other man that, if met, would have them both going faster.

[show_my_cannons]

He sort of stopped coming here after the incident. After meeting... that guy. The doctor. The other robot soldier.

But that had been months ago.

It was high time he went back to running. So, with that theory in mind, he headed on out, parking the battered old truck, and taking a long run through the ill-kept paths and trails.

[adorabastard]

The problem with the lack of upkeep on said trails was that, when two people were running on the same trail in opposite directions, there was no way to see the potential collision until they were right on top of each other.

And that was exactly what happened. As Alistair hopped a fallen branch, ducked a low-hanging one, and rounded a bend, he nearly slammed straight into the man running toward him.

When startled, most people tended to freeze, flee, or attack. Alistair's reaction was to attack. Fortunately, he realized what his body was doing before it could carry out the move — but it would be hard to miss the way his body dropped, shoulder down, as he prepared to slam into the man and throw him.

Instead, Alistair jerked to the side of the trail, out of the man's way. The burst of adrenaline didn't stop when he did: his pupils were dilated, his face was rapidly losing its color, and his body shook even as he stood still. But he didn't want to take down some civilian who was just trying to keep in shape.

"Sorry." The word was quick, decidedly accented, and half-muttered. He hoped that the man would just pass on by: he needed to find a good spot to sit down and do some breathing exercises.

[show_my_cannons]

Alistair, unfortunately, wasn't the only one who was prepared for a fight. It's instinctual. His own body braces, lowering, starting to shift into a better position to intercept the apparent charge. It's impossible for someone like him not to see the threat -- the aborted threat, but a threat nonetheless.

He's just grateful there wasn't a sudden flash of memory to go with it.

But nothing happens. The other man jerks away. Harding straightens up, relaxing, arms dropping down to his sides, once more a nonthreatening jogger -- or as much of one as a man his size could be.

"Yeah, sure..." he said, slowly, looking the other up and down. "You okay?"

Probably a stupid question, but it came out, nonetheless.

[adorabastard]

No, he wasn't okay. He was struggling to control his body's response: every cell still screamed fight, and it had been made even worse by seeing the other man's reaction. An immediate response to a threat. A threat in itself. He was ready for combat. He needed to do something....

And then the man spoke, and what color remained in Alistair's face drained away.

That voice. He knew that voice. It was from the network. There had been several who had spoken of robots, but this man.... This was the one who had talked about war.

For a long moment, Alistair just stared at the man. Larger than himself, which was something that Alistair had encountered less and less since his departure from the military. It was all too easy for his mind to overlap the man's arms with that woman's robotic ones....

... He needed to get away from this. If that network had to remain in his head, it could, right along with the dreams of corpses possessed by demons. It didn't belong out here in reality, where he was trying to clear his mind.

"... Fine," he finally managed to breathe out.

He couldn't have crafted a more blatant lie if he'd tried.

[show_my_cannons]

"You sure, kid?"

He probably should just go. The kid didn't need him pestering. But, on the other hand, he couldn't just leave him. It wasn't in his nature to just abandon someone who needed a hand.

He had to ask. Even if that was all he did -- ask.

The more he looked at him, though, the more some kind of vague familiarity flashed through him. He'd seen this before, hadn't he? In other soldiers, in those who'd seen worse things than he had.

After an awkward moment of standing around, he fished into one of his pockets.

"You need water or something...?"

[adorabastard]

It had been a long time since Alistair had been called 'kid.' A very long time. Back when he was a brand new face on the team, it was common; once he made rank, it became less so. He used to take offense to the term, until he realized it was a provocation and started brushing it off. To hear it after so long ... it brought forth a sharp pang of longing for that time, before he moved up the ranks and started running things.

It wasn't a reminder that he needed. His body was still on go, and his mind was reeling from the realization that the man was from the network. The hit to his emotions was the tipping point.

Alistair laughed. Short, high, and a bit hysterical, but laughter all the same.

"No! No, I don't need water. I need some fucking antipsychotics. That's what I need. Because, you'll never believe this." He paused just long enough for another helpless laugh to escape. "I'm pretty sure that you, sir, are a robot!"

If that caused a reaction, Alistair didn't see it. He tipped his head back, speaking to what little of the sky could be seen through the trees.

"In fact, you're not just any robot: you're a sentient robot, and you were in a war! And I...!"

His gaze returned to the man. "I have officially lost my mind."

A deep breath, then:

"I should go."

[show_my_cannons]

Right then. That went well. If "horribly" was a new synonym for "well." He suddenly wished Benjamin were here. Or someone with half an ounce of people skills. He was utterly lacking in anything resembling tact, and, judging by that laugh, people skills were sorely needed right now.

Among other things.

He had no idea what to say. What to do. He eased his hands out of his pockets, instead, keeping them in plain view. Easier to see he was unarmed, there was nothing in easy reach.

He wasn't trained for this.

"Yeah, well. Fresh out of those." He squinted, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck. "And yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm one of those, too."

Maybe it was lucky the professor wasn't out here. What with that stupid arm of his and all.

He scowled. "Sure, you're crazy. You and the rest of this damn city," he grunted. "Right, that's likely."

[adorabastard]

"Likely? No. They could be, though. There was something in the water, right? It's possible that everyone's losing their mind. Some chemical weapon causing mass insanity...."

Even he could tell that he was rambling, speaking too quickly about pure nonsense. He shook his head and tried to step back — but on this narrow a trail, he couldn't retreat without going back the way he came, or taking off into the woods.

The idea of charging off through the trees was enough to start pulling Alistair from the edge of what promised to be a rather nasty breakdown. He'd run through forests before: to find someone, or while hauling them back to safety. If he could handle that, he could handle....

"...."

... No. No, he could not handle a man telling him that he was a robot.

But he had seen that woman's arms, hadn't he? Unless he really was going completely out of his mind. Which, considering his track record, wasn't entirely unlikely. Hallucinations were just the next step, weren't they?

Alistair breathed in deep, then let it out slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He focused on the breaths, forcing himself to remain centered.

... And the man was still there. He didn't vanish into a puff of smoke.

"... Can you prove that you're not a hallucination?"

[show_my_cannons]

"I think so. Didn't pay much attention to it, though."

Which was true. He'd had more on his mind than water making people laugh. Like bills. Or work. Goofy water wasn't important.

And, it still wasn't, given how this man looks liable to start flying off the deep end any second again. He kept very still, save for edging back a step or two. He really didn't want to have to do something drastic. Really. Why did this bullshit always have to happen when he was just trying to get a workout? It was like a curse.

He stood there, awkwardly, silently, waiting until the guy caught his breath, or breathed through his crazy spell. Whatever it was.

"Come again?" he grunted. How the hell was he supposed to prove something like that? "You want to punch me or something?"

[adorabastard]

"Yes."

Sometimes, being blunt was an asset for Alistair. Other times, it had gotten him in trouble, and he'd had to learn how to hold his tongue. This was probably one of those times when holding his tongue would have been the better idea.

Quickly, he shook his head. "But that's really ... really not a good idea right now." Not when his fingers were still twitching for a fight. Not when he was watching the way the man moved, mapping out weak spots, and knowing that it was more than his usual subconscious observation.

[show_my_cannons]

He spread his hands, slowly. Every motion was slow, deliberate. Nothing was rushed. It was sort of like trying to deal with a panicked animal. Which just made him wish the professor was here. He had all those animals, he'd know what to do.

"What else do you want me to do?" he asked.

Because, right now, there wasn't much in the way of options.

[adorabastard]

A long moment passed in silence. What could this man do to prove that he wasn't a hallucination? ... Nothing that Alistair could think of.

The younger man's shoulders slumped as the reality of that set in. A rather odd sight in itself: Alistair wasn't a small man, by any means, and he looked as though his very best friend may well be the gym. But he was quite past caring what the other man thought of him. Hell, he probably wasn't even real: what did it matter if Alistair decided to curl in a little ball until he calmed down?

Calming down. Maybe that was the key. Maybe, if he could just calm down enough, the man would either disappear, or he ... wouldn't. That should tell Alistair whether this robot-person was real or not, right?

It made about as much sense as anything else, at the moment.

"We could just ... walk for a bit?"

It was the only thing that he could think to do. But the suggestion still came out rather quietly. After all, he didn't think it was a very good suggestion.

[espigeonage]

Julien had found an old picnic bench to do push-ups atop, in a clearing far enough down a long trail that it didn't get a lot of morning traffic, and was busily doing them, driving flakes of damp wood and lichen into his palms. It was cold, especially in the mornings, and his breath steamed in dramatic plumes. He slowed up when he saw movement, knowing that that breath might be noticed - his lung capacity was a lot greater than a human's, and his breath was wetter and hotter. His body protested, but even flushed with exercise, he could do it for a while.

He sat on the edge with his legs dangling over, resting. His arms were bare and fairly toned, he had some layers folded up on the bench edge, and he was utterly dry. There wasn't a drop of sweat on him; unlike his breath, he hadn't realized that people might notice.

What he was realizing now was that the person coming down the trail was a local celebrity. Cool. Well, no need to get annoying about it. Julien nodded in a friendly way and became briefly quite interested in the contents of his water bottle.

[adorabastard]

Alistair had chosen that particular trail for two reasons. One, it was a long trail: he was jogging outdoors for a change of scenery, after all, and going down numerous short trails wasn't particularly appealing. Two, it didn't see as much traffic as other trails. While this made it even more neglected than the others, in terms of fallen branches, Alistair had no problem whatsoever with jumping over those.

It came as a bit of a surprise when he spotted another person seated on an old picnic bench. Unconsciously, he slowed down as he quickly looked over the man and the area around him. Nothing suspicious, at least from a distance. He considered passing on by, so as to avoid any awkward conversation — but it really was an excellent place to pause for a breather.

And so, pause Alistair did. He gave the man a brief nod in return, but appeared content to keep his distance while he caught his breath. He'd been at this for a good while, and — although he could certainly continue on without an issue — he wasn't out here with the intent to push himself. It was meant to be a relaxing jog. If he wanted to take an extra minute or two to catch his breath, he could.

[espigeonage]

The strange eyes Julien had had since summer were useful in a lot of ways. One way was that his peripheral vision was sharp, almost as sharp as if he looked directly at something. Examining people in detail without them knowing was just good fun.

The guy was better looking in person. Most people were! But while Julien was always happy to chat, Alistair didn't look in the mood. Ah well.

Still keeping each breath human-shallow, he set his water bottle aside and tried holding himself up just by his palms, lowering his body over the edge and raising it again, getting his triceps. Over the months since he'd acquired a number Julien had steadily become more athletic, and the latest change had left him a little stronger, too. It was still vaguely amazing that he could do this, now.

The old bench, though, was not stronger. It creaked. Without further warning, the edge broke. Somehow Julien managed not to land on his ass, instead ending up on his knees in melting slush.

He blinked. "Ow. Well, that could have gone better."

[adorabastard]

The creak wasn't quite enough warning for the sharp snap that followed.

Alistair was on the ground before he realized he was moving. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, every sense on full alert. It was a conditioned response that had saved his life more times than he cared to count (though he remembered each and every one). It wasn't until after the other man spoke that the reality of what had happened fully sank in — and even then, it took a moment before Alistair moved.

Fortunately, the position he'd dropped to wasn't so different from a push-up, so it was easy for him to get back on his feet. Unfortunately, because he'd dropped entirely to the ground, his entire front was wet from the slush.

Someday, he'd get past jumping at loud, unexpected noises. Today wasn't that day.

After wiping a now-wet hand on the back of his shorts, Alistair offered it to Julien. "Are you alright?" he asked, his apparently British accent unmistakable and voice forcibly calm. As though his own reaction had been nothing out of the ordinary — or hadn't happened at all.

[espigeonage]

...Julien felt bad for him, and decided it would be better to pretend he hadn't noticed. If he'd had normal eyes he probably wouldn't have seen a thing, or thought Alistair just startled hard.

"My dignity's bruised," he said good-naturedly, reaching up. "Thanks."

Too late he remembered that he was fever-hot, as dry as if he'd been lounging in comfort, and that his skin was palpably thinner and softer than it should've been. Julien barely pulled on the proffered hand and let go as soon as he was back on his feet, smiling out of nervous habit. Play it cool, he decided, say nothing unless it's brought up.

He was small, five foot five, and fairly meaty in workout clothes. "Can I offer you a towel...? I brought extra." He hadn't. But he didn't sweat anymore.

[adorabastard]

Thanks to the calluses on his own hand, anything abnormal about Julien's skin was hardly noticed. The temperature, on the other hand, was. Alistair's eyes flicked briefly to their joined hands, before Julien released his. Then, he quickly began searching the other man's face, looking him over for signs of fever.

It was then that the lack of sweat was noticed. Heatstroke...? Was that even possible in this weather?

"No, I'm fine." If he wasn't so preoccupied, he would have tempered his voice to be a bit less curt. But as it was, he was busy looking the man over. The intensity of his eyes combined with the difference in their height (Alistair stood at least seven inches taller, and was decidedly broad) meant that, unintentionally, the examination was more like looming ominously.

At least there was nothing menacing about his stance.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

[espigeonage]

Julien tipped his head back to meet his gaze steadily. His irises were a rather bright blue shot with a paler pearly tone, their texture oddly granular, not striated like human eyes. Of course he had blue hair, also dry, which looked like it had been teased and groomed a lot to make it as fluffy as it was.

At the clinic he worked for someone still taller with a more piercing gaze, but it was still a little intimidating. Not that he wanted to show that. Julien turned both hands palm up, conscious that he couldn't take a step back with the picnic table in the way. Play it cool. "I feel fine. Honest. But thanks for the concern, it's flattering."

[adorabastard]

A frown knit Alistair's brow as he considered that response. Perfectly aware; no signs of confusion or disorientation. And there were no other physical signs of fever that he could see. Perhaps his own hand was just a bit cold...? He did have it in slush for a few moments, after all.

Realizing that he was looking down at the man's rather odd eyes finally caused Alistair to realize his proximity. He took a step back, rubbing his fingers against the palm of his hand as he did so. As he thought, it was a bit cold. Still damp, too.

Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first time, though he'd never had it trick him about a person's temperature before.

"Right. If you're sure."

[espigeonage]

That was a little better. Julien smoothed back his not-hair with one hand, heedless of how that got little bits of table into it, and smiled in his usual bright way. "I'm sure, thanks!"

Now he put his head to one side. Distracting from the topic might help. "Don't I know you from somewhere...? I'm Julien."

[adorabastard]

It wasn't unusual for Alistair to run across people who thought they knew him from somewhere, but couldn't quite recall where. Often, it was people who worked with children, but didn't bother watching the show themselves. (Oddly, mothers rarely fell into that category: they always seemed to know exactly who he was, and tended to thank him for things. Like demonstrating the proper application of sunscreen. He still hadn't figured that one out.)

He was about to explain that to Julien, when—

I can assure you none of my mutations can really be laid at the feet of "sane" causes. Guess you'll have to take my word for it though! Btw, my name is Julien.

... No. No, it was a common name. Just a coincidence. Still, it was enough of a distraction for Alistair's response to be rather delayed. (And enough of an unwanted reminder of what he was trying to not think about that his face lost a bit of color.)

"No, I don't think we've met. But if you work with children at all, I know how you know me."

[espigeonage]

During that rather suspicious pause, the nearly transparent extra lids in the inner corners of Julien's eyes quivered but did not shut. He was now breathing "normally" - huge, slow breaths, four times deeper than when he'd been all human. Over time he'd become more and more cautious but, clearly, he needed to work harder on it.

He put his head to the other side. Julien had a great memory for faces, even though to him colors and so on were hideously distorted by cameras; he knew very well where he knew Alistair from and now pretended he'd only just figured it out. "You're on TV, right? You host... uh..."

The safe thing would be to take this conversational path. For the moment he kept to it.