savetheearth | come with me into the trees

Entry tags:

come with me into the trees

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.

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"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?"

"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?"

"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.

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.

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.

There was an awful lot of waiting going on here.

And more to come, since Harding was just going to stand there, wary and tense, until something happened. For better or worse. All he did was rub at the back of his neck, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He felt like he should at least try and comfort this guy, but...

Hell if that was going to happen.

"Yeah, sure, kid. Let's just walk."

Because if that was going to help, then, hell. He'd do it.

And so, Alistair began to walk, his pace slow and even. Not trying to get anywhere in a hurry: just trying to calm himself down.

The path wasn't the best to walk on, but it was easier walking than it was running. Soon enough, they'd emerge from the trees and onto the city streets again. But until that time, Alistair intended to use the greenery as a means to center himself. After all, nature was supposed to be tranquil, wasn't it?

The whole thing was a little difficult, though, when the entirety of his attention remained unequivocally focused on the man beside him. Measuring everything from movement to body language, Alistair was definitely still watching for a threat.

... This silence wasn't working at all, was it.

He finally broke it, awkwardly and somewhat desperately, with: "What sort of robot were you, do you think?"

Because that line of conversation would definitely help.

He followed a pace or so behind. Just out of what he perceived the other's reach to be, in case the kid took a swing at him. So far, so good. But...

Well, at least, he didn't think there was anything threatening in his body language. He just looked uncomfortable. Like someone shoved into a suit they didn't fit into. Which was an appropriate comparison, really. He ended up limping a little, favoring the old leg. This was what he got for not stretching it out right, or something.

Great.

He cleared his throat about the same time the other man spoke up. All right. Talking. He could do that.

"Told you," he grunted. "A soldier. Big one. I don't know more than that."

"A big one," he repeated quietly, as he added that information to the rest. The rest wasn't much, admittedly: but maybe if he got a clearer picture, this would all stop being so....

He wouldn't admit, even to himself, that it all frightened him. He'd been through too much to let it frighten him. But it was a bit hard to move past the fear when he refused to acknowledge feeling it in the first place. And unfortunately, Alistair's steadfast denial meant that he couldn't break it down for himself, in order to start moving on. Instead, he just stopped his thoughts at "frightened," locked that feeling down, and continued to pretend it wasn't there.

"Do you know what you were fighting for?"

True, the man had just said he didn't know more. But that was about what sort of robot he was, wasn't it?

He actually wished he had more to work with. But the fact of the matter was, he simply didn't. There was no reason to focus on what he didn't have. If he did that, he'd be worrying the rest of his life. That helped nothing.

The question made him frown. No, of course, he didn't. But...

"The leader -- my commander," he said, slowly. "Wouldn't fight for something that wasn't worth it."

Which was a terrible answer, he knew. Plenty of terrible people thought their goals were worth starting wars over. Except -- except he couldn't shake the feeling that robot had been good. Inherently so. Even in a world made of shades of grey, of no absolutes, his instincts just screamed in favor of the robotic commander's virtues.

"He was a good... man," he added, after a moment. "I can't explain it. Just know he was."

As a consequence of working to calm himself, Alistair spent more time considering that statement than he normally would: he didn't simply dismiss it with the rest of the insanity concerning robots. Sentient, warring robots, at that. And so, Alistair was quiet for a moment, processing it.

"... That's more than many can say about their commander," he finally replied, voice quiet. "Or their leader."

Alistair had never doubted his mission. More than once, he'd wondered why those he was rescuing were there to begin with. But he'd never considered giving it up. It was too important. Saving the lives of others was worth fighting for.

But he wondered: did all the men he ended up leading feel the same?

He shrugged a little. It wasn't exactly a personal thing -- but revealing that was... it felt like he had to defend himself a little. Not that anything Alistair said or did called for defense. Just Harding's typical reaction, he supposed, to anything memory-related these days.

"I believed in him," he said, casually, shrugging again. "Not... much else to say, I guess."

A glance over at him.

"More than you could say?"

He considered answering the question very frankly, but bit his response back just in time. He knew very well that he sounded British now: if he told the man that there were some placed that he believed the United States military didn't have any business being, he couldn't very well follow it up with, 'I'm not British, I just sound like it thanks to this crazy echo thing.'

No, Alistair very much doubted that would go over very well. So, instead of a more blunt response, the man received a little shrug in turn.

"More than most who've served any length of time can say."

"Except the ... thing... I used to be, I guess."

Talking about military things was awkward. Really awkward. He never knew how to answer disillusioned soldiers. Mostly considering he didn't share their perspective. He'd never hit that point. He didn't blame them -- certainly, he wasn't under any illusions the military was a spotless pinnacle of decency.

He'd just never run into them, before...

His leg faltered under him. He missed a step and cursed, staggering.

Immediately, Alistair spun to help support the man. Ex-robot or not, Alistair couldn't simply stand by while another person struggled to walk. Protecting and saving others was far too ingrained in his system.

Not that the man stumbling was a dire event. Judging by the man's earlier gait, it was an older injury — though Alistair couldn't say exactly what had been injured. In any case, he wasn't unused to helping others walk. Or dragging them, as the case may be.

"Are you alright?" he asked. And no, he wouldn't be stopping his assistance until he was sure the man could keep his feet under him.

"Fine."

He didn't mean to snarl it. But the word came out harsh and angry all the same. He didn't like being reminded of his own limits. Especially that one. The one that ended his career. His life as he knew it.

There was a pause. As he gathered himself, balanced. It was fine now -- whatever fit it was in had, apparently, passed.

"It's... fine."

He forced his voice to calm. By way of apology.

Taking the cue, Alistair backed off — but he still hovered until he was sure that the other man had his balance. He saw no shame in providing assistance to others, nor did he see any in asking for help, if the body refused to cooperate. But he understood that, for some people, it was a very touchy subject.

"If you're sure," was all he said. The silent offer of assistance was still there, in the way he stood ready to support, but he wouldn't insist on helping if it was unwanted.

That is, unless the other man actually fell. Then he was going to get help, wanted or not.

Alistair looked away, in order to give the former robot time to recover, and turned his attention to their surroundings. The trees were thinning out: they must be reaching the edge of this odd park. If he looked closely, he could see a low building through the bare branches.

... And was that movement, beside the building?

If he actually fell, he would hope he landed on his head, to save himself the embarrassment of needing a hand. Pride was both a delicate and brutal thing. His own wouldn't let him accept help. Not without violent verbal protest.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

He drew himself up to prove it, breathing deeply. It was only then he noticed where exactly the other man was looking. He followed the look, his good eye narrowing a fraction.

And his posture tensed.

"Think we got company."

"I think you're right."

His voice was quiet, but calm. In contrast, his body had tensed right along with the other man's. The movement itself wasn't cause for too much alarm. After all, the two of them were out jogging in this park, and Alistair knew they weren't the only ones out here.

What was causing Alistair to tense was where the movement was located. The building wasn't a nice one, by any means. Hardly any so close to the Dead District were. The movement was on the sidewalk beside the building; whoever it was wasn't heading toward the park. They were just ... hanging out there, it seemed.

In this area, just 'hanging out' was rarely that.

"More than one," he added. It was hard to get an exact count, with the branches in the way. He crouched in one smooth motion, getting himself a better view through the trunks while hiding most of his body behind the lower growth.

Memories of recent broadcasts sprang to mind. The reports of attacks out in the Dead District. Of increased gang activity. And look where they were...

It didn't take a genius to figure out who was, most likely, watching them. Especially given their apparent lack of desire to do anything besides stand there. Like a sentry. Which sounded all kinds of alarm bells in his head.

While Alistair crouched, Harding took a step to one side, behind a convenient tree. It only took one of them to play lookout, after all. And the other man appeared far more mobile than he was, typically.

"How many."

It wasn't a question.

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