Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thursday 8 March ’51

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] – Hey. Asshole. Wake up.

LIMBIC SYSTEM – Shh. Feel how hard his heart beats, trapped there between his lungs. Breathe with him, fast and shallow. Watch his muscles tense for the next fight as his mind tells him it’s already lost.

Look how I’ve failed him, my beloved Jean-Heron. Even in sleep, he can’t let himself rest.

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – Yeah, that’s fucking *fascinating*, but he has shit to do out here. The shit doesn’t care if he’s well-rested. Come on, you lazy prick, get up.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Or don’t. You ruined everything last night. What you do next doesn’t matter.

YOU –

1. And that’s, what, some kind of *breaking news*? Nothing I do has ever mattered.
2. Wait. What happened last night?
3. Oh, no. No-no-no. You’re not doing this. Not yet. Go back to sleep.

YOU – Wait. What happened last night?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Nothing, nothing. Get up. You need a cigarette.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Not “nothing.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Something fucking embarrassing. You cried. A lot.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Something you *needed*, Jean. Tears and all. So did they. Remember that when you… try to be nice to yourself, okay? Just this once.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Why? You broke the rule, loser. The *one* rule you trust above all others to keep you from ever, even accidentally, hiking the Shitkid Trail:

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: Success] – BE. A FUCKING. PROFESSIONAL.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – Host in heaven, he hasn’t even opened his eyes and you idiots already have him paralysed with a bunch of cryptic shit. Wake *up*, asshole!

YOU –

1. [Open your eyes.]
2. [No thanks. This sounds *bad*. You don’t need *bad*.]

YOU – Even with your eyes closed, you can feel that you’re in bed, on your back, between two people.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – They’re completely asleep. Bare skin, warm. Yours and theirs.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Just to be clear, this *is* bad.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Come on, Vic. Don’t be so fucking high-strung. Rule out the not-bad stuff first.

YOU –

1. Could be the morning after a party? Maybe someone had a kid? A birthday…?
2. Shitkid problems, somehow?
3. FUCK.

YOU – Could be the morning after a party? Maybe someone had a kid? A birthday…?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Oh, that would be *great*, yeah. A real fucking relief. Too bad you can’t think of a single reason the 41st would’ve partied last night.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] – Wait, last night was Game Night! You played Wirrâl with the usual suspects. Maybe you stayed overnight, after.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Yeah… but the three of you are “make sure you actually binned the condom” naked, and you know it.

YOU –

1. Shitkid problems, somehow?
2. FUCK.

YOU – Shitkid problems, somehow?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – What, now you’re saying you went home last night? Fine, I’ll bite. For the sake of argument, you went home, and then… okay, granted: Harry *is* a drunk, and he *does* have keys to your apartment and a history of crawling into bed with you.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Jean. Jean! Wake up! … Oh, were you asleep? Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry. I love you, Jean. I wish I was dead. I went to this new place on Porta Rosa, and everyone was *young*. What the fuck! Nobody wanted me. No one is ever going to love me, ever. … I should kill myself. The mural was right, it’s too late. It *hurts*, it hurts worse than Dora -- oh, you’re just gonna sleep on the couch, huh? Fucking leave me like everyone else? Okay, asshole. Sleep well, try not to trip over my corpse in the morning. … You got any beer?”

LOGIC [Challenging: Success] – But aside from him fucking you *over*, you two don’t fuck, so you’re the wrong kind of naked. And Host knows no one would be so stupid as to join you if Harry were in your bed, so you’re with the wrong number of people.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] – These sheets you’re in don’t reek of shitkid, either. There’s not even a hint of booze or piss-armpit.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You know what they *do* smell like, though?

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Safety.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Friends.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Lovers.    

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Sex. Also, you still need a cigarette.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Ignore the junkie. Work it out: not party aftermath… not shitkid… which means….  

YOU – [Open your eyes.]

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Small room. Etched glass ceiling lamp. Through white curtains, hints of first light. Walls busy with family photographs, megabino posters, kids’ drawings, Innocentic icons. A vanity and a chest of drawers, both strewn with domestic debris.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Jude and Thom’s bedroom.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – On one side of you, a small yet sturdy woman with one cheek pressed to your shoulder and one hand on your stomach; on the other, a man built like the Franconigerian cavalry with a snore to match and one hand on your stomach.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Jude and Thom.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Sorry. I knew it was bad. I don’t know why I told you not to panic.

YOU –

1. FUCK.

YOU – FUCK.

LOGIC – Yeah.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – FUCK!!

LOGIC – Again: yeah.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – Congratulations, asshole. You're going to be upset with yourself about this one for a long, *long* time. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to wallow in your feelings later.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – But right now you have to get up, and go to work, and do your goddamn job, and pretend this never happened.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Because you and Jude are colleagues.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Because you’re not a homo.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – Because with the Far Out Son of Lung committing slow-motion suicide, you’re Jude’s acting goddamn unit commander.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] – Because you need a --.

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] – Yes. He knows. Shut up about the fucking cigarette.

*        *        *

March ’48

PRECINCT 41 – Spring is hard in Revachol, so naturally, your transfer from the Fau to Jamrock comes through at the ass-end of winter. You check in at Reception and wait as instructed, standing in the central foyer in wool-blend Perseus Blacks.

It’s early morning, yet civilians are already here: slumping in cracked vinyl chairs, arguing with long-suffering front desk staff, filling paper cups at the water dispenser.

VOLITION [Challenging: Failure] – You’re restless, but you don’t want to look as nervous as you feel, so you make yourself stay still.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Good try, loser, but you fail. Look: your foot taps on the polished concrete floor, your fingers on your crossed arms. Your gaze pinballs around the lobby until it hits the precinct’s famous domed roof.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – Fragments of grey sky, tangled in steel and glass: shards of sadness that will fall, one by one, until you’re bled out and buried.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Hey. Asshole. You took this transfer for a new start, yeah? An opportunity to *reset your brain* after four years of clinical-strength, meds-resistant depressive hell? Maybe don’t fuck it up before you even get to your desk.  

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – And quit that homo poet stuff. You want to impress these guys with *police work*, not sad wanker thoughts.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Precinct 41 is *the shit*. Don’t let them down.

PRECINCT 41 – Mercifully, a patrol officer pushes through one of the foyer’s heavy doors and waves as she approaches you, her thick-soled boots squeaking.

THE PATROL OFFICER – She’s about your age, maybe a little older? Her dark, centre-parted hair is pulled into a tight chignon at her nape. The style emphasises her striking features and soulful expression.

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] – She carries herself with calm strength.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – The uniform’s as blandly concealing on her as it is on everyone, but you’re confident the body under it is fit and warm and --.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – Host in Heaven, Vicquemare, this is your colleague. She’s here to work, not deal with your bullshit. Be professional.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – Your *married* colleague -- that’s a wedding ring on her left hand.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Yeah. Pull yourself together, loser, and forget you were ever interested.

THE PATROL OFFICER – “Satellite Officer Vicquemare?”

She looks up at you, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, and tilts her head as though what she sees in your face is -- an answer? A question? She holds out her hand.

YOU –

1. [Shake her hand like a fucking professional.]
2. [Volition 13: Formidable] [Shake her hand like a fucking flirt.]
3. [Volition 16: Godly] [Kiss her hand. Maybe kneel? Fuck, what’s *happening* to you?]

YOU – [Shake her hand like a fucking professional.]

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Medium: Success] – Small frame, firm grip, nicotine stains, calluses. Warmth. Heat, yes, and also *care*.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – For you, for your sisters and brothers, for the city you both serve: somehow, she radiates it.  

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] – Yeah, and a faint scent, too. Something gentle. Almond? Smells more like lotion than eau de parfum.

THE PATROL OFFICER – “I’m Patrol Officer Judit Minot, but please, call me Jude. I’m here to show you to C-Wing -- it’s hard to find your way there, which is great for keeping civilians away, but not great for new hires. And feel free to ask me anything while it’s just us. C-Wing is….”

She grins, her eyes glittering.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – Like a faerie.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Fuck, you love faeries.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – You also *know* about faeries! While they’re not the most popular race when it comes to character creation, any half-decent Wirrâl player knows that faeries--.  

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Formidable: Success] – Hey! Homo! You’re at work. Quit the Wirrâl shit.

JUDIT MINOT – “Well, let’s just say that C-Wing is never boring… but it’s not the best place to hear yourself think.”

YOU –

1. “Any idea who my partner will be?”
2. “Can you show me the gym first? Working out is kind of my *thing*.” [Flex!]
3. “Why do you smell so good?”
4. “Why’s that?”

YOU – “Why’s that?”

JUDIT MINOT – She gestures for you to follow her through the door she came in; you do, and she leads you through a maze of brick halls and worn concrete stairs.

“Gosh, where to begin? It’s a big place, for one thing -- there are echoes when the phones ring, or the typewriters rattle, you know, noises like that. And the people aren’t quiet, either. Mack and his partner Chester are chatty, and they’re also good at keeping the station medic busy.”

She pushes a metal door open with her hip. “And my partner, Mills, he….”

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] – Whoa, look at that face. She does *not* like this guy.

JUDIT MINOT – “Tends to *think out loud*.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – Her tone doesn’t match her words. Like, at *all*.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Something’s wrong with this guy. Be on your guard.

JUDIT MINOT – She clears her throat as the two of you jog up a long flight of stairs.

“And *then* there’s Lieutenant Du Bois, who never, *ever* shuts up.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Oh, shit! Harry Can-Opener! You knew he was at the 41st, but you didn’t realise you’d work in the same wing.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – Jude -- Patrol Officer Minot likes him, though. The exasperation in her voice was real, but so was the affection.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – The man’s -- well, a *legend*. Not on the level of Pryce, of course, but he’s been with the RCM since the early ’30s and still closes cases like a goddamn machine. Rumour is he’s an alcoholic, which you’re prepared to believe, and Madre’s *peone*, which you’re not.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – By all accounts, Harry’s a hot mess. Do hot messes end up indebted to the besmerties? Yeah. Do the besmerties trust them with anything important? Fuck no. Crime syndicates aren’t as desperate as the RCM and, depressing as it is to admit, they can afford better staff.

JUDIT MINOT – “He’s trying to… what’s the word he uses? ‘Reconceptualise’ C-Wing as a major crimes task force.” She laughs a bit. “I hope he manages it, and I’m *sure* he’ll talk at you about it. You’ve probably heard of him?”

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Major crimes? Task force?! Get on that shit, officer! It sounds exciting.

YOU –  

1. “Of course! He’s closed more cases than anyone in Jamrock.”
2. “Oh, yeah. Harry Can-Opener, right?”
3. “I have. I’ve also heard he’s Madre’s *peone* -- any truth to that?”

YOU – “I have. I’ve also heard he’s Madre’s *peone* -- any truth to that?”

JUDIT MINOT – You both reach the landing, and she pauses to catch her breath, tilting her head back and interlacing her hands as she lifts her arms toward the ceiling.

“Wow.” She leans into the stretch. “You don’t waste time, hmm?”

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – She likes that you were direct about this -- she thinks it showed courage.

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – And she’s not stalling. Just winded.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – *You’re* not winded. This is barely a warm-up.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – … But you mimic her movements so she won’t feel like she’s slowing you down.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – The pose is a smart choice on her part. It opens up the torso, lets more air into the lungs for faster recovery.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – *You* want to make her breathe like that, fast and hard, both your bodies --.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Officer! Enough!  

YOU –

1. [Preen like a tool.] “Never. I’m *efficient*.” [Flex!]
2. [Be modest.] “I just want to know what I’m walking into.” [Flex… a little.]

YOU – “I just want to know what I’m walking into.” [Roll your shoulders to emphasise your muscles as much as the uniform allows.]

JUDIT MINOT – If your flexing impressed her (if she even noticed it), she doesn’t let on. She leads you down a corridor that leads to multiple rooms: a kitchenette, a supply closet, toilets, lockers, the ubiquitous “staff lounge” of shitty couches to collapse on when there’s no point going home.

“It’s a good question. Jamrock is… not an easy place for anyone, I think, and neither is the RCM.”

She lowers her voice and turns to you, her expression serious. “Some of us *are* on the take. We both know it. But Captain Berdyayeva handles the C-Wing day-to-day, so even though I can’t be sure… I really don’t believe she’d harbour a compromised officer. Not even Lieutenant Du Bois.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Berdyayeva is a fucking weapon, a walking anti-corruption hard-on. She’s famous for flipping tables and cracking heads; you’ve heard of grown men *begging* to be referred to Internal Affairs rather than to her.

JUDIT MINOT – “Does that answer your question, Satellite?”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Host almighty, look at the flush in those cheeks. Jogging down to get you and immediately heading back really has her heart pumping.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Sweat glistens along her hairline. There are little flyaways there you could smooth with your hand, or your lips….

YOU –

1. [Shit, shit, *what* question? What the fuck did you even ask?!]
2. “Call me Jean.” [Smile and hope for the best.]

YOU – “Call me Jean.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Failure] – You attempt a smile, but it comes out awful, a mess of first-day nerves and depression-dulled muscle memory.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – And scars. It was a bad idea. You’re too ugly for this shit.

JUDIT MINOT – She smiles back, lips closed, eyes on yours. “It’s nice to meet you, Jean. We made it -- I’ll show you where your desk is and then take you around for introductions, okay?”

C-WING – *Very* fucking okay. You follow her through the familiar fug: cigarette smoke, typewriter ink, damp wool, sweat, overbrewed coffee. A couple of junior officers wave at you from behind military-grade piles of paperwork, and an elderly man nods from the crackling comms station.

YOU – [Wave and nod back, stepping through rows of untidy workspaces.]

JUDIT MINOT – She gestures to your new desk: standard-issue green lamp, typewriter, pen-and-pencil holder, a fresh clipboard loaded with crisp new forms. Everything looks especially pristine beside the toxic event of Lieutenant Du Bois’ adjacent desk; you’ll be facing each other when you’re both seated.

“Looks like he’s not in yet. I suppose it *is* a bit early.” Her gaze lingers on his empty chair.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Failure] – She’s thinking something at him, hoping her words cut through the -- cop ether? entroponetic crosstalk? hangover, maybe -- but you’re too new to the 41st to pick it up on your own radar.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Legendary: Success] – You can *feel* the signal in your body, though, worried and more than a little annoyed.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Still feels warm. Whatever she said, it buzzes with familiar care.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – They’re friends.

JUDIT MINOT – “Well, let’s not worry. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough, and he’s not exactly easy to miss.”

She sighs. “I’ll introduce you to the others in the meantime. We can start with Captain Pryce, if that’s all right?”

YOU –

1. [Drama 13: Formidable] [Pretend you’re not nervous at all.]
2. [Drama 10: Medium] [Let on that you’re nervous, and turn it into a bonding with Jude -- with *your colleague* thing.]
3. [You’re shitting yourself. Don’t bother to hide it.]

Drama 10: Success

YOU – “Sounds good -- I might as well meet him before first-day nerves make me *completely* brain-dead. Is my tie straight?”

JUDIT MINOT – Head tilted, she gathers evidence in The Case Of The New Guy’s Tie.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – It’s okay to be nervous, but you can relax, Jean. Really. I’ve got you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Feels like some kind of maegic flits through your anxious brain, leaving Jude’s steady patience in its wake. You wish meds felt half this good.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – I’m sorry. I was wrong. You would die for this woman even if she never said another word to you, and you’d be correct to.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Told you.

JUDIT MINOT – With a thoughtful hum, she reaches for your collar and fusses with the tie’s knot.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Her skin’s almost touching yours. Not quite. *Almost*.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – Oh, wow, this one hurts.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] – There’s that whiff of almond again.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Yes-yes. Where’s it coming from?

LOGIC [Challenging: Success] – Her hands. Definitely lotion. Probably something she keeps at her desk -- handling lots of paper dries out the skin.

JUDIT MINOT – A few quick, gentle strokes to smooth the tie where it tucks into your jacket, and she hums again, this time with satisfaction.

“There, Jean. Very handsome. Are you ready?”

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] – Did you hear that? She called you handsome!

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Don’t be stupid. You’re a scared newbie. She’s *handling* you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Wait, what?

LOGIC – Not *that* kind of handling, pervert.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Hey, at least I’m not a prude.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – Shut UP, you clowns, she’s WAITING.

YOU –

1. [Savoir Faire 12: Challenging] [Raise an eyebrow.] “Ready for *what*?”
2. [Nod.] “Yeah. Let’s go.”

YOU – You nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – She leads, and you follow. You will follow her anywhere, *anywhere*, if she lets you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Calm down, asshole. You’re just following her to Captain Pryce’s office. You’re here to solve crimes, remember? Not mope after a married woman who’s only trying to do her job.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Yeah. Do the work. Set the feelings aside.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – And then do it again tomorrow. It’s all there is, all *you* are.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – But not all you want to --.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – *Want*? Who gives a shit about *want*? This is Jamrock, Jean, and you’re a sad-sack Satellite: work, *hard*. You can’t afford more.

JUDIT MINOT – She knocks beneath a brass sign that says CAPTAIN PTOLEMAIOS PRYCE.

PROBABLY PRYCE – “Door’s still closed,” says a gruff voice behind the inarguably closed door, “which means ‘fuck off until I finish my coffee.’ Which one of you chuckleheads needs reminding?”

JUDIT MINOT – She stifles a grin. “I remember, sir, but I’m here with Satellite Officer Vicquemare and --.”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “Shit! That’s right. He starts today, doesn’t he? Bring him in, Minot. And where the hell is Du Bois?”

JUDIT MINOT – You’ve got this, she mouths, and winks at you like a fucking faerie as she opens the door.

Chapter Text

August ’48

THE PICNIC SHELTER – The height of Central Jamrock summer: hot sun; huge white clouds in a huge blue sky; skuas screeching as they dive-bomb fish; C-Wing officers and their families chatting and laughing and splashing in the lake’s cool water.

YOU – No swimming for you. You burn too easily, and even if you didn’t, you’re self-conscious about people seeing your scars: the ones from the fucking smallpox, not the ones you have in common with everyone else. Instead, you sit at the Sad Old Man table with Harry, bouncing your legs and picking at the wooden picnic bench.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Harry’s your partner. He was both as advertised (a fucking genius and alcoholic but -- crucially -- not a drunk) and nothing like you expected (eager to bounce ideas off you and ask your advice in the field; at once an insufferable Art Cop wanker and, no shit, your Sunday rugby-watching buddy).

HARRY DU BOIS – “You sure you don’t want a beer, Jean?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Fuck *yes*, you want a beer. You want at least six beers. It’s hot as balls out here, you’re post-gym hungry, and beer’d go great with the burgers and sausages Pryce and Berdyayeva just dropped on the grill. Plus, getting wasted would take the edge off of seeing the woman you love happy with her not-you husband.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – Nope. No drinking. If you drink, two-weeks-sober Harry will drink; if Harry drinks, he’ll ugly-cry and moan about Dearest Dora, and *then* he’ll ugly-cry and moan about what a useless sack of alcoholic shit he is, can’t even stay sober a few weeks, GOD; and **then** you’ll have to steal his keys and strong-arm his fat ass home while he cries on you and tells you you’re his best-ever friend, he loves you *so* much, and you’re just -- you’re not having that shit. Not today.

YOU –

1. [Be harsh. You’re sick of this shit.] “Fuck off, Harry.”
2. [Empathy 14: Legendary] [Be gentle. You’re sick of this shit, yeah, but you also know how much it sucks to be fucked over by your own brain.] “Fuck off, Harry.”

Empathy 14: Success
YOU – “Fuck off, Harry.”

You top up Harry’s cup of ice water from the pitcher in the middle of the table, then top up yours, too.

“Drink some more goddamn water. You look like a turd with heatstroke.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Okay.” He drinks some more goddamn water. Beads of it glisten in his stupid clown mustache. “Sorry.”

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – He’s genuinely miserable.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Yeah. You’re not the only suicidal motherfucker in this partnership. Give it ten years, and if you’re not dead, this sad clown could be you.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Get him on a topic he cares about, something to distract him from the black hole inside.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] – Oh! I know! Dis--.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – NO

ENCYCLOPEDIA – But it’s his favourite musical gen--.

HALF LIGHT – ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT

ENCYCLOPEDIA – … But I was going to make a brilliant pun about the comparative *disco*graphies of Ostentatious Orchestrations and Guillaume Le--.

HALF LIGHT – YOU WILL NOT SPEAK THAT NAME IN THIS HOUSE

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Ugh! *Fine*. Try Dolorian art, then. He loves to complain about it.

SUGGESTION [Formidable: Success] – And maybe ask yourself why you feel so threatened by --.

HALF LIGHT – NOPE

YOU – “Hey, loser. Question for you.”

THE PICNIC SHELTER – Harry doesn’t respond. He watches Pryce and Berdyayeva -- both sweaty, apron-clad, nominally sober -- stand at the grill and bicker about the right way to arrange the charcoal while their spouses play cribbage and swat flies from perspiring plastic cups.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Something in the rhythm of the captains’ exchange suggests they’ve argued about this topic, possibly at this very grill, for *years*.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – The “right way” to cook the food, by the way, is FAST. You’re hungry NOW, and you want to eat about ten minutes ago.

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Success] – But you can wait. You’re good at waiting.

HARRY DU BOIS – He turns his head and blinks at you. “Yeah?”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Processing at the speed of alcohol withdrawal.

YOU – “Remind me why I’m supposed to hate Dolorian art?”

For a sweaty, desolate moment, you fear he won’t take the bait and you’ll be forced to bring up The Music That Must Not Be Named, but….

HARRY DU BOIS – “Oh, Jean. C’mon. We talked about this.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – Translation: I know I’ve talked at you about this before, but goddamn, would I be happy to talk at you about it again.

YOU – “Yeah, but remind me.”

HARRY DU BOIS – You’ve barely finished your sentence before Harry sets down his cup and leans forward, dripping conspiracy and moustache water.

“You see, Jean,” goes the ominous beginning, “the Dolorian aesthetic is inherently sadomasochistic because….”

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Mission accomplished. You can zone out now -- just nod every so often to keep him going.

THE LAKE – Most of your co-workers are swimming with their girlfriends or their families.

JOHN MCCOY – Not John. He brought and is building a sand castle with his grown  cretin  brother, which makes up -- just a little -- for John’s shit personality and worse breath.

JULES PIDIEU – Not Jules, either. Face slathered in near-comical amounts of sunscreen, he naps in a folding chair, the ratty-looking paperback he’d been reading open against his chest. His daughter Apricot suns on a nearby towel, idly flipping through a magazine.

JUDIT MINOT – Hands on her hips, knee-deep in the lake, she watches her two curly-haired boys and her even curlier-haired husband play. She wears a wide-brimmed sun hat and a navy one-piece.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – It’s a great swimsuit. The halter neck, tied at her nape; the open back baring the freckled wings of her shoulders… yeah. This is definitely making you hard.

VOLITION [Godly: Success] – So look away.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Formidable: Success] – Right. Let’s see….

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Emile and Chester are fighting a full-contact splash war against Joe and Mack; Chad and his girlfriend are making out like the horny teenagers they are; Thom, Jude’s husband, is surrounded by a gaggle of C-Wing kids waiting for their turn to get launched into the air.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – It’d be fun, flying and falling like that. You could use the adrenaline hit.

HARRY DU BOIS – “All those hard, bare pews? All that kneeling before big-ass picture windows of judgmental women? It’s supposed to be emasculating, and good little Dolorians are supposed to *like* it.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – Thom’s really *throwing* the little bastards, and he’s not struggling or slowing down, either. He’s as fit as you, if not more.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Harry claims to have a “Franconigerian hard-body,” but Thom actually does: he’s tall and stocky and fucking strong, muscles standing out with every toss.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] – Seriously. The man is athlete-huge. Compared to him, you feel like a total bino, and faerie-small Jude looks like a fucking toy.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] – Fitting. He’s goofing around out there like an overgrown child.

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] – What an asshole.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Or maybe, you’re ass-over-tits for his wife, which is fucking embarrassing, so you’re looking for reasons to hate him.

HARRY DU BOIS – “And when you consider the Solaist backlash and its Franconigerian underpinnings….”

YOU – “No!”

HARRY DU BOIS – He blinks, surprised. “No, Dolorianism isn’t emasculating? Or no, the Solaists don’t figure in?”

YOU –

1. [Pick one, doesn’t matter which, and pretend that’s what you meant.]
2. [Admit you weren’t talking to him at all. Maybe even tell him what’s going on?]
3. [The best defence is a good offence. Fuck it. Go on the attack.]

YOU – “Both. Neither. It doesn’t matter, Harry, because Dolorianism isn’t *kinky*. You’re just a loser who got dumped by Dolores Dei’s porno-welkin doppelgänger, and instead of admitting you’re sad about it, you’re trying to turn it into something you can get off to. But you’re too fucking miserable to get off to *any*thing, and you know it.”

SUGGESTION [Challenging: Success] – Not to interrupt this *really excellent* talk you’re having with your friend here, but you know who else you call a loser? Who’s *also* too fucking miserable to get off much?

HARRY DU BOIS – Harry doesn’t have a dog -- he’s too poor, and his shitty apartment is too small -- but if he did, and if you drop-kicked it, his face might look like it does now.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Fuck, Jean, why are you such an asshole?!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Because you’re HUNGRY.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – Because you’re insubordinate. Harry wears rank lightly, but he’s still your superior, *Satellite*.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Because you’re hurting, and you’ve been hurting for so long, and it just -- doesn’t stop.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Who gives a shit? Those sausages smell *amazing*, and you’re audible-stomach-noises hungry.

HARRY DU BOIS – He droops over his half-empty cup of water.

ALEKSANDRA BERDYAYEVA – “Du Bois! Vicquemare!”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Both she and Pryce hold a pair of tongs in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

ALEKSANDRA BERDYAYEVA – “The meat’s nearly done cooking, no thanks to Mister ‘Heat Can Never Be *Too* Indirect’ here. Get everyone to come back and set things up so we can eat.”

VOLITION [Formidable: Failure] – You can’t. Your limbs are depression-fuckup heavy.

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “That’s big talk from Ma’am ‘Throw It In The Fire And See What Happens’. Remember that time you burned your eyebrows….”

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – You have to move, officer, so you will.

YOU AND HARRY DU BOIS – You follow Harry toward the lake’s edge. It’s a sign of how shit you both feel that neither of you even tries to jog; Harry lights himself a cigarette.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – You want one.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – No, you don’t.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Who cares about cigarettes? Harry’s your partner. You hurt him. Try to un-fuck this.

YOU – “Harry, I --.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Relax, Jean. We’re okay.” He pats your shoulder. “You gonna tell her how bad you have it?”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Busted.

HALF LIGHT [Legendary: Success] – AAAAAAAH

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] – Fuck’s sake, Jean, he’s your partner and your friend. He wants to help. Calm your tits.

YOU –

1. “Nope.”
2. “Oh, yeah. Getting rejected by a colleague and then thrown into orbit by her human refrigerator husband? Fucking outstanding. I’ll be the first satellite officer to *literally* revolve around you.” (Lie, probably.)
3. [Pretend you have no idea what he means.]

YOU – “Nope.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “You sure? Because you *always* seem like an orphaned puppy disguised as a depressed weightlifter, but when you’re around her? Wow. Whole ’nother level.”

He puts his hands to his mouth and bellows for everyone to get out of the water for lunch, captains’ orders, then drops back to just-you voice.

“I’d go for it, if I were you. Last time Jude and I did Girls’ Night Out, she was pretty chatty, and… I mean, I can’t tell you what she said. That would violate the Girls’ Night Out code, and also, I blacked out and forgot a bunch of what happened. But! Can’t hurt to tell her how you feel, right?”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – There’s… *so much* wrong with that, but fuck it. Harry’s sober and, in his weird way, trying to help. Let it go through to the keeper.

YOU – “Yeah. Got any more cigarettes?”

YOU AND HARRY DU BOIS – He does. You both smoke your way back to the shelter, Harry taking the opportunity to babble at you -- not about Dolorianism this time, Host be praised, but about his (“our!”) ideas for his (“our!!”) much-discussed, much-delayed Major Crimes Unit.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Uhoh. He’s talking about the RCM’s need for consultants, which means he’s going to mention teachers, which means --.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] – Dora collision imminent!

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Cut him off!!

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Just don’t be a dick this time, okay?

YOU – “Yeah, exactly! Cops are garbage. We need psychs, scientists, journos -- you know, people who actually *know* things.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “You’re not garbage! You’re my best friend.”

VISUAL CALCULUS – Collision avoided. Nice work, detective.

YOU – “I’m definitely garbage, Harry, but… thanks.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Challenging: Failure?] – You don’t hear anyone coming in for lunch behind you: not a child bursting into betrayed wails when he stumbles, not Jude soothing him (“Oh, mon trésor! That didn’t feel very nice, did it?”), not Thom making him giggle (“Uh-oh. Skinned your knee again, Luc? We gonna have to amputate?”).

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Good. Hearing any of that wouldn’t be safe.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Yeah. You might be jealous -- or, heaven help you, you might wonder who you’re jealous of.

*        *        *

Thursday 8 March ’51

C-WING – After a self-recriminating workout followed by a self-recriminating locker room toilette, you slink into the office. The luck that let you sneak out of the house without waking anyone doesn’t hold: Mack and Chester try to wave you over before you even reach the coffee pot, Jude’s already at her desk, and something near *your* desk smells like -- like -- fuck, you don’t know, but it’s *bad*.

JUDIT MINOT – “Good morning, Jean.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Three words, a hundred questions twined around them.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – More gently than you deserve.

YOU –

1. “I… owe you an apology. A *lot* of apologies, actually.”
2. [Shake your head and make a “we’ll talk later” face.] “Morning.”
3. [Pretend nothing happened.] “Morning.”

YOU – You set down your too-full mug and nod at Jude like the sleep-creases fading from your back aren’t from her sheets. “Morning.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – Yessssss. Act like nothing happened, and pretty soon, nothing will have happened.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Just to be clear, that would make you a fucking tool.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Jude seems to agree; she feeds a form into her typewriter like it’s a normal day, but  We *will* discuss this comes through loud and clear.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Vic!” He’s sitting on his desk, cigarette in one hand and mug in the other. He worked the night shift, and he looks it.

“Call came in from the Emergencies Desk at balls o’clock. There’s a dead guy hanging from a tree in Martinaise -- been there for a week or something. Desk called the 57th out, too. We’re gonna have a Cop-Off!”

YOU –

1. “No, we’re not.”
2. “Cop-Off!” [Punch the air. Who doesn’t love a good Cop-Off?]
3. “Cop-Off!” [Punch the air. You don’t give two shits about Cop-Offs, but Martinaise means the Débardeurs Union, the Débardeurs Union means high fucking stakes, and high fucking stakes means distraction from this smouldering trash fire you’ve built.]

YOU – “No, we’re not.” Your nose wrinkles without asking you first. “What’s that smell?”

MACK TORSON – “I don’t smell anything.” He pops two donut holes into his mouth and keeps talking as he chews. “Cop-Off! Cop-Off!”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – As he and Chester chant, ligaments tighten at the base of your neck. You’re gonna have one of your headaches before noon if you don’t relax.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Failure] – If you’re alive to have it. You didn’t make it home to take your meds last night since you were too busy fucking up your life, so, yeah. Mood’s going down from here, and it’s your fault.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Cop! Off!!”

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Stop this. You have extra meds in your coat. Top left, inner pocket. Go get them from your locker and take them now.

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] – No point.

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – Wouldn’t matter if there were. You don’t deserve to feel better.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – SAY something. You’re the senior officer present!

YOU –

1. [Be enthusiastic.] (Lie.) “Cop! Off!”
2. [Forget the Cop-Off. You’re not giving up on this troll-cave smell.]

YOU – “Of course *you* don’t smell anything, Torso, you get your goddamn nose broken every other week.”

MACK TORSON – “Hey, fuck you, man, it’s been at *least* a month.” He belly-laughs, exposing the mauled remains of another donut hole.

YOU – You start to attack the paperwork that accumulated on your desktop yesterday, triaging it into three piles: Fucking do this now; Fuck this shit, do it later; Fuck off.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Mack! Dude! Mouth closed when you chew. We talked about this.” He drops his cigarette butt into Mack’s ashtray. “Vic, you haven’t even asked me about the Cop-Off. What’s wrong? Jude kick your ass in that bino game you guys play?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – He’s concerned, brother-to-brother.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] – Something is *seriously* wrong. It smells like a hobo filled a dumpster with cheap wine, crawled into it and drowned, and *then* CS Municipal wheeled the damn thing under your desk and pointed a space heater at it.

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – You aren’t gagging, but you should be.

YOU – Fuck this shit, Fuck this shit, Fucking do this now, Fuck off.

“There’s not going to be a *Cop-Off*. There’s going to be a *joint investigation*. We’re professionals, goddammit, not a pack of dick-swinging retards.”

MACK TORSON – “Speak for yourself. Chester! Incoming!”

CHESTER MCLAINE – He opens his mouth comically wide and catches the donut hole Mack lobs across their desks, bowing while Mack cheers.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Failure] – Stabbing pain, just behind your right eye. If you’re lucky, it’s a stroke.

YOU –  Fucking do this now, Fucking do this now, Fuck this shit.

“Seriously, doesn’t anyone else smell that? It’s revolting.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] – Of course I smell it, Jude might as well be broadcasting, but you’re ignoring me, Jean.

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Failure] – You manage to put your hands over your face before your mouth twitches and your eyes well up.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “I dunno if I smell anything, but Harry stank really bad yesterday. Like, even for him. Maybe the funk just kind of… lingered.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Ah, fuck! You know what it is now. Chester’s wrong, and the reality is worse.

VOLITION [Challenging: Failure] – You put your hands down, using the motion to stealthily wipe away moisture you don’t allow to become tears, but that doesn’t mean you have to look. Just walk away and go… anywhere. Into traffic. Over the edge of the 8/81. Down into the catacombs with your gun where no one ever has to find you. You can’t face this shit anymore.

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – You can. Come on. Get it over with.

YOUR DESK – You slide open the top drawer, which hosts two things that weren’t there when you left on Tuesday night. One is a beat-to-hell pencil worn down to a dull stub. The other’s a puddle of puke that stinks like bad kebab and worse wine.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – No. It stinks, violently, of *shitkid*.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Challenging: Success] – You reconstruct the scene with forensic precision: drunk off his ass, your partner picked up the pencil stub clipped into his own ledger, tried to write with it, failed, was *too fucking stupid-drunk* to sharpen the goddamn thing, searched his desk for a pen, didn’t find one, staggered over to *your* desk, searched *your* drawers for a pen, drunk-dropped the pencil, puked, *closed the puke drawer like a fucking psychopath*, and left.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – You’re going to kill him. You’re going to kill him, and there is not a single person at this precinct who will not help you hide the body.

YOU –

1. [Take out the top drawer. Walk to the window. Open the window. Throw the drawer through the open window. Listen to the drawer smack the pavement, wood cracking, contents ruined. Close the window. Be jealous of the drawer.]
2. [Take out the top drawer. Walk to the window. Open the window. Clutch the drawer to your chest. Fall through the open window. It is only you and the drawer now, and the pavement, and the quiet.]
3. “Where the *fuck* is Dick fucking Mullen?”

YOU – You shove the Fuck this shit pile toward the back of your desk.

“Where the *fuck* is Dick fucking Mullen?”

MACK TORSON – “Aw, c’mon, Vic. You know it’s too early for D-Mulls. Give it at *least* three hours, maybe four.”

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – It’s not like he’s been showing up late because it’s *fun*, or because he doesn’t care. He’s ill. Physically, mentally, spiritually if that’s a thing -- Harry’s dying, Jean, and you’ve been mourning him for months.

ENDURANCE [Impossible: Failure] – No more.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Fuck him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – For puking in your goddamn desk.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – For transforming on your watch from the legend you were *so lucky* to be partnered with, so stupidly excited to befriend, to The Shitkid.

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – For *bewitching* you into defending him the whole sorry way down.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – For subjecting you to not one but four, *four* excruciating interventions with Berdyayeva and two unlubricated ass-reamings from Pryce.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – For knowing he’s a piece of alcoholic shit and still letting C-Wing revolve around him.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Worst and most unforgivably of all:  fuck him  for having the luxury of falling apart. *You* want to fall apart pretty much all the time -- to cry, to drink, to not wake up on time or ever -- but you *don’t*.

JUDIT MINOT – “*Jean*!”

She’s crouched beside you, her hands on your knees.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – And you… didn’t notice that happening, apparently.

PERCEPTION – Yeah. Sorry.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – You feel the room’s attention on you.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Failure] – On your weakness.

JUDIT MINOT – “Mack, Chester, can you clean this up, please?”

MACK TORSON AND CHESTER MCLAINE – They agree, voices low, without arguing.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Shit. You must look really far gone.

JUDIT MINOT – She stands, gesturing for you to join her.

“Come on, Jean. You’re with me.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Failure] – You’re not *with* her. She pity-fucked you.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Not just her. You and Thom --.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – No you didn’t.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – You did. You --.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – No. No-no. You have enough problems. You’re not taking on some kind of *conceptual project* in your *thought atelier*. That’s shitkid tier.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – I don’t do *conceptual projects*. I do body facts, like --.

JUDIT MINOT – “*Please*, Jean.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Whatever it is, it’s okay. Just let me help.

YOU – Your nicotine-stained fingers shake -- clumsy, frightened -- in the almond-scented blossoms of Jude’s hands as she leads you away.

Chapter Text

November ’48

JUDE’S HOUSE – The front door’s not locked, and you come through it to find the living room cramped and narrow, shelves on one long side and blanket-stacked couch on the other.

YOU – “Jude? Thom?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean! Hi! Hold on, I’ll be right out.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Sound’s coming from behind a closed door, you’re not sure where.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – From the fae realms of --.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – NO. No *maegical thinking*. That’s how to get yourself -- or, worse, someone else -- killed.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Calm down. Map your exits and wait.

YOU – You’re here because you finally got it: the Major god-damned Crimes Unit.

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “FINE, Du Bois. You and Vicquemare can have the damn thing if you -- not him, he knows when to shut up, but *YOU* -- promise to STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT, I’M SICK OF YOUR VOICE. And cut back on the drinking, would you? Even Berdyayeva thinks you’re overdoing it.”

JUDE’S HOUSE – So, party time for the unit, even though Jude’s not *technically* in it.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – One of Pryce’s conditions was that no rank lower than sergeant be involved “because if the crime is that god-damned major, Du Bois, you need *armed fucking officers* to investigate it.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – But her house is way nicer than Harry’s hoarder shithole or your depressing bachelor flat, so here you are. Earlier than you said you would be, even.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – In case Jude wants help setting up.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – And you just like being around her. A lot, in fact. Here, let me demonstrate!

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – Nope. No boners at work events. Think about something else.

JUDE’S HOUSE – To your right, the dining nook and kitchen --.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Door to the patio on the back wall.

JUDE’S HOUSE – -- and to your left, a bathroom and a chaotic kids’ bedroom sans kids.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Probably shipped off to the grandparents for the night.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Challenging: Success] – That closed door past the shelves is probably Jude’s. If you’ve got this floor plan right, her window looks out on the garden.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – There’s a lump in your throat, somehow.

LOGIC [Medium: Failure] – Because this is a home. Jamrock-small, a compact brick bungalow with plaster walls that date from the suzerainty and, you can say with certainty despite not having seen it, a basement that will give you tetanus -- but *home*. You haven’t lived in one of these since you were a child.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – You forget what it was like, sometimes.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – … and it hurts to be reminded.

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – *Stop* it, you asshole. Stop fidgeting, stop moping, stop grinding your teeth. You’re here to celebrate.

ENCYCLOPEDIA  [Medium: Success] – Can do! Because this place? This is heaven. The *books*! The *games*! Someone here plays everything from Raubritter to Wirrâl, and they have the well-loved collection to prove it.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – It’s Thom.

EMPATHY [Medium: Failure] – It’s arrested fucking development. He’s a father, for fuck’s sake. He should be embarrassed, spending so much on *games*.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You’d spend that much on games, if you had the money.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – That’s DIFFERENT.

LOGIC – Different how?

VOLITION – It just IS.

LOGIC – Oh, *boy*.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Trivial: Success] – The closed door creaks open, and Jude -- her hair haphazardly pulled back and her long, angular face full of colour -- smiles at you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You were right: that’s the door to Jude and Thom’s bedroom.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Nice*.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Don’t be a pervert. Lots of things make people blush.

THOM MINOT – “Hey, Sad Cop! Good to see you again. Thanks for offering to help set up -- I owe you one.”

He pats your shoulder, then rubs Jude’s back as he ambles toward the kitchen.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Damn, he’s built. You can see it in the way he moves, even though his clothes -- jeans, t-shirt, plaid button-down -- give him all the definition of a human refrigerator.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Also, there’s a love bite on his neck.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. They were fucking.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – You’re fine! It’s fine! This does not bother you even a little!!

JUDIT MINOT – “So sorry to make you wait, Jean. I didn’t hear you come in.”

YOU –

1. “Yeah, I bet you didn’t.”
2. “That’s okay. I didn’t hear you and Thom fucking, either.”
3. “Don’t worry about it. What’s with the bino collection?”

YOU– “Don’t worry about it.” You grimace -- you didn’t mean to -- then point your chin at the shelves. “What’s with the bino collection?”

JUDIT MINOT – Her gaze follows yours to the books. “Oh, Thom’s been building it for ages.” Carefully teasing the elastic band from her ponytail, she finger-combs her tangled hair.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – That chestnut colour! Those wiry little greys! Running your fingers through it would feel like --.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – Getting fired for being an unprofessional creep?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Do you get *paid* to kill boners? Because it’s extra sad if you do it for free.

JUDIT MINOT – “He ran campaigns for our friends back in high school, if you can believe we were ever that young.”

She shakes her head and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Does this look okay? I don’t want to look like a mum tonight. And be honest, Jean, please -- I’m asking my friend, not my colleague.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Oh, *fuck*, that’s some good shit.

DRAMA [Medium: Failure] – You try not to go wide-eyed, but you do.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Hey! Loser!

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Yeah. Let’s see: part looks natural; face is bare save a little mascara; blue knit top is modest; necklace is a tiny Chi-Rho on a whisper-thin chain.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – She is, and looks like, a mum.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – You’re not telling her that. You’re not lying to her, either.

YOU –

1. “You look great. You always do.”
2. [Volition 14: Legendary] “Come on, Jude, who are you trying to impress? Some Neanderthals from C-Wing and some wanker consultants? Fuck them. They don’t deserve you.”
3. [Volition 20: Impossible] “I didn’t realise I was your -- I thought you just -- you’re my friend, too.”

[Volition 14: Success]
YOU – You’re about to point out that except for her, everyone at this party will be an asshole, a moron, or a visitor from planet Not-A-Cop, so however she’s dressed? Please. She’s out of *everyone’s* league just as she is. But before you get the chance….

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – Footsteps, coming up the front stairs: a heavy person with a confident walk.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Harry.

HARRY DU BOIS – Shirt half unbuttoned, corduroy party pants threatening to fall off his sorry excuse for an ass, he and the bulging canvas bags he carries stride in like they just broke down the door.

“Jean! You’re early, you sad bastard.” Between his muttonchops, his mouth puckers into a bitchy little asshole. “Jude, where’s that look-at-my-tits top you were telling me about? Don’t tell me you chickened out.”

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – DESTROY HIM.

YOU –

1. “At least she’s sober, you assless piece of shit.”
2. “Leave her alone! Host in Heaven, how fucking unprofessional can you be?”
3. [Half Light 12: Challenging] *Fuck* talking. Beat his flat ass.

YOU – “Leave her alone! Host in Heaven, how fucking unprofessional can you be?”

JUDIT MINOT – She rubs your arm and gives you a tired, sidelong smile. “It’s okay, Jean.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Yes! That touch!

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – *Oh.* That smile.

JUDIT MINOT – “I know, Harry, I’m hopeless, but I just… don’t think I’m the ‘tits out’ type.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Her tone’s gentle: she’s smoothing things over.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Don’t be too sure that’s all she’s doing. The tone’s a smooth leather sheath, sure, but under it? You’re picking up a serious knife.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Failure] – What exactly she thinks at him, you’ll never know -- it’s like her message is encrypted, and you don’t have the key -- but Harry’s eyebrows fold into “I fucked up” mode.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Nothing wrong with that. I’ll flash enough tit tonight for both of us.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Gah. Can you un-hear that, please?

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Nope. It’s too late.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Easy: Failure] – For you, for everyone.

HARRY DU BOIS – “C’mon, Jean, you’re falling into one of your sad-sack spirals. It’s all over your face. Come to the kitchen with me -- I got a couple bags here full of cheer-you-up.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Potent Pilsner and Commodore Red.

YOU – They won’t help -- nothing will -- but you follow him all the same, Jude encouragingly patting your back.

THE KITCHEN – It *looks* noisy: shelves overhead and cabinets beneath cramped benchtops; dishes drying in precarious racks; laundry stacked on the washing machine jammed between the wall and the sink. The surfaces are plain and worn, the colours outdated. School papers and children’s drawings flutter on the refrigerator door.

When you come in, Thom’s setting out bowls on the grocery-laden table.

HARRY DU BOIS – He drops the jingling bags beside the groceries, then fist-bumps Thom. “Jude’s husband!”

THOM MINOT – “Jude’s homo coppo loco!”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Huh. That accent was legit.

HARRY DU BOIS – “You *wish* I were a homo.”

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – You kind of wish he were, too: he might shut up about Dora. Unfortunately for every woman in Revachol, he only wants to “make fuck” with the ladies; unfortunately for his mental health and your limited patience, he’s nowhere near recovered enough from Dora to succeed.

THOM MINOT – “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been taking my wife out for drinks more often than I have. You’re making me look bad, man.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Yeah, but she told me she doesn’t have to fuck me to know your dick game’s stronger than mine, so, y’know. I wouldn’t worry.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh my god.” She picks up a bag of pretzels and rips it open, pointedly upending it over a bowl. “This is why couples should never share friends.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – She doesn’t really believe that.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Good, because now that you know her husband is a mega-bino, you *have* to befriend him.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – No: you have to prove that you know more than he does. You may not have a wall-spanning collection, but you’re not going to let him beat you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA – No one has to beat anyone! It would be fun just to share --.

JUDIT MINOT – “I hope you two get your” -- She drops into a mediocre but passable Dumb Guy impression -- “‘your dick, my dick, you’d better not fuck my wife’ nonsense over with before the others get here.”

She fills another bowl; you quietly gather the emptied snack bags and bin them. “I don’t mind it when it’s just us, but I don’t want the rest of the unit thinking we’re that stupid.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Arguably, Jude, I *am* that stupid. Just ask Berdyayeva.” He cracks open a beer; you suspect it isn’t his first one today.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Wait-wait-wait. She said us. *Just* us.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Which includes you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – SWOON.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Whoa, hey. Less mooning, more helping. Maybe put the groceries away?

YOU – You do, though you keep listening.

THOM MINOT – “You’re not stupid, Harry, you just do stupid shit.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Says the man who put dish soap in the laundry machine when we ran out of washing powder.”

YOU – You stuff one emptied grocery sack into another.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – It is now an item: Sack of Empty Sacks.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – … Sure. Why not.

THOM MINOT – “Look, babe, that wasn’t *all* bad. The floor got extra clean, and Luc and Armand loved crawling in the bubbles.”

JUDIT MINOT – “You only say that because *you* listened to the radio while *I* mopped and dried the floor and bathed our grimy, disgusting children.”

THOM MINOT – “The Skuas were in the playoffs!”

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – *God*, he’s an asshole.

EMPATHY [Legendary: Success] – No, Jean, stop. Think: Jude’s stayed with him all their grown-up lives, right? They’re even married. In *Revachol*, where no one bothers to get married -- not even star-crossed morons like Harry and Dora. So there’s something here you’re missing, and if you’re a half-decent detective and an at-all-decent friend? You’ll keep an open mind until you find it.

YOU –

1. “I didn’t realise you spoke Mesque, Thom.”
2. [Encyclopedia 12: Challenging] [Ask Thom about his collection. You guys can bond over games!]
3. [Authority 10: Medium] [Ask Thom about his collection. You need to gather intel so you can explain to him in excruciating detail why he’s a mere bino peasant. Also, you’re totally stronger than him. *Flex!*]

YOU – “I didn’t realise you spoke Mesque, Thom.”

THOM MINOT – “I don’t, really. I just heard my dad speak it, growing up.”

YOU – “In…?”

THOM MINOT – “Lakeside.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Central Jamrock.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Thom tenses, worried your answer will come from the Oblivious Racist Playbook. (“Oh, not Villalobos?”; “But… where are you from *originally*?”; “Well, your Suresne is very good. You should be proud!”)

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – He’s right to have his guard up. There are plenty of racist dickheads.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – And too many of them have badges. Jude’s confident you’re not one of them, though.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Good. Now live up to it: don’t let her or Thom down.

YOU –

1. “Is that why you barrack for the Skuas? Because the Stags aren’t just the North Jamrock team, Thom, they’re also *the best*.” [Shitstir, good-naturedly.]
2. “Must’ve been nice living that close to the *good* library… for our side of the river, anyway.” [Commiserate -- you were a balls-poor Revachol West bino kid, too -- but keep it casual.]
3. [Composure 13: Formidable] [Be brave. Open up a little. That’s how bonding happens, right?]

[Composure 13: Failure]
YOU – You nod. “I didn’t grow up *too* far from Central. But we were down in the Fau, so I barely ever got up to Lakeside, much less the lake.”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – No-no-no. Bad memories. Abort mission.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – What are you, a baby? Keep going.

YOU – [Lean against a benchtop and cross your arms over your chest.] “Once in a while, the school would pack us all onto a bus and haul us north for the day. I’d always come home burnt from the sun and carsick from the mazut, crying like a little bitch.”

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – You plan to keep making fun of yourself, but two things go wrong: one, Jude and Thom look at you like what you went through was painful, not funny (Harry studies his beer like there’ll be an exam, but you get the impression he agrees); and two, you realise they’re right.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – No time to think about it. Just finish your stupid story.

YOU – “I don’t know if the other kids smelled weakness or what -- maybe it was just puke -- but *every* time, they’d….”

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Failure] – Ah, fuck!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Failure] – Sorry. You’re shutting down. You’ve got about three seconds before you start crying like a little bitch *again*, this time in front of your friends.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – So get OUT of here! There’s an exit right there!

VOLITION [Heroic: Failure] – No point. You fucked up. They already know you suck.

YOU – Your voice is weak and shaky, and you hate it, you hate *yourself*, but you can’t stop: “I still hate that fucking lake.”

And then you cry, hard, crumpling on the kitchen floor like an empty goddamn sack.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Hey, partner. Hey.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – That’s his de-spooking voice. Works wonders on wild-eyed precinct horses.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – Like you.

HARRY DU BOIS – He crouches beside you and puts one arm around your shoulders, gently rubbing your back. “Deep breaths. You’re all right.”

JUDIT MINOT – You hear her open a cabinet and run the tap. A moment later, she kneels in front of you and tentatively holds out a glass of water.

YOU – You take it, nodding your humiliated thanks, and drink between spasms.

JUDIT MINOT – “That’s it, Jean. Good -- oh, shit, I nearly called you a good boy.” She pulls out a chair and sits at the table.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – A little nervously. Why?

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – You don’t care. Not right now.

JUDIT MINOT – “Sorry. Too much parenting. ‘Good boy’ is one thing with the kids, but it sounds a bit… *different* between grown-ups.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – It sure does!

THOM MINOT – He sits down next to Jude. “It sure does.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – A healthy dose of approval in his voice.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – He likes being a *good boy*.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – You’d like that, too.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Nope, no, forget you ever figured that out, thank you, good night.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Come *on*, man. Look at yourself. You’re miserable *all the time*. You came here to celebrate and you’re crying on the floor, for fuck’s sake. Let yourself have your weird “Jude thinks I’m a good boy” semi.

HARRY DU BOIS – Sweaty hand in yours, he pulls you to your feet; you set your glass on the table and sit across from Jude as Harry thunks down beside you, scooping a handful of bright orange croustilles from the nearest bowl.

JUDIT MINOT – “Here, Jean.” She nudges an ashtray toward you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Yesss, have a smoke.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Don’t have a smoke. You’re tired of fighting to breathe at the gym. So, *so* tired.

HARRY DU BOIS – Crunch, crunch. “Hey, Thom, I’ve been meaning to ask: do you play Wirrâl anymore?” Crunch. “I want to get back into it, but it’s gotta be with people who understand that cop schedules suck balls.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – Harry’s lying. This is a setup to get *you* to play.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – He’s a good friend. A disaster of a human, but a good friend.

THOM MINOT – “I’m planning an Untethered campaign, actually. You want in? I’m still looking for players.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – Oh my god, Untethered! You’ve been reading about the setting for *years*, desperate to play a campaign in it -- it’s full of ice! And inevitable death! And learning about yourself and your world as you face your icy, inevitable death!

JUDIT MINOT – “He *always* GMs. I think he just likes being in charge.”

THOM MINOT – “In Wirrâl, anyway.”

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – A muffled *thump*: Jude kicking Thom under the table.

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] – Wait. Where *doesn’t* he like being in charge?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – The same place he likes being a good boy.

HARRY DU BOIS – “I’m in. Jean?”

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Failure] – What?

YOU – “What?”

HARRY DU BOIS – He grins. It’s hard to tell whether he’s busted you or is leering his standard disco-relic leer.

“He’s in.”

Chapter Text

November ’48

THE MAJOR GODDAMN CRIMES UNIT PARTY – The house is full of these people you and Harry have hand-picked: Bevy; Heidelstam; some social workers and clinical psychs; a small cohort of schoolteachers who gravitate toward one another in a corner of the living room. Moments spread across the night like the freckled face of God across the water, hazy and precious and innumerable; you navigate them with a succession of drinks and let yourself -- *make* yourself -- forget what, if anything, came before.

*        *        *

GUILLAUME BEVY – “Well, for one thing, I think all militias, state-backed and otherwise, should be abolished. Until that happens, I want them held to account.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – He speaks like he’s doing a live broadcast. Here in the Minots’ living room, the effect is part gravitas, part wanker.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Fascinating! There’s recently been some research on the subject out of the University of Koenigstein -- have you heard? Evidently a contingent in the philosophy department has proposed that all legislative schema are inherently fascistic, which of course has the criminal justice faculty in an uproar. Though studies in the clinical psych lab have suggested that those who pursue law enforcement professions are more likely than the general populace to entertain nationalist viewpoints, so the philosophers may be on to something.”

GUILLAUME BEVY – “Are you saying we’ve just signed up to a unit full of fascists?”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Oh, nothing so boring: we’ve just signed up to a unit full of *potentialities*!”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Legendary: Failure] – Is that supposed to be a joke, or…?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Have another beer. Maybe that’ll make it make sense.  

*        *        *

THOM MINOT – “So my dad’s family gets to the aerodrome here, and the guy at the arrivals desk asks for their surname. And Abuelo says, ‘Muñoz,’ and the guy goes, ‘Minot?’ And Abuelo’s like, ‘No, *Muñoz*.’ So Abuelo’s pointing to their papers, and he’s going back and forth with this dude, and he’s just getting absolutely *nowhere*.

MACK TORSON – “I mean, I’m not defending the guy, but I personally can’t read for shit.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Is that why you keep making me fill out your paperwork?”

MACK TORSON – “Nah. You just got such pretty-girl handwriting, Chester, it’d be a crime to let it go to waste.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Ugh, they’re interrupting the story! Thom clearly knows storytelling -- it’s making you impatient to play the game he’s going to run.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – He’s an overgrown man-child. Stop thinking nice things about him.

YOU – “Mack! Chester! Shut it. I want to hear the rest.”

THOM MINOT – He grins. “So my dad’s asking my abuela when he’s gonna get his big boy bed -- because that was how they got him excited about moving, right, he wasn’t about to get on an aerostatic and never come back unless there was something in it for him -- my baby uncle’s screaming in Abuelita’s arms and filling his nappy with some feral shit, Abuelo’s still arguing… and Abuelita grabs his shoulder and goes, ‘Armando, if being Elena Minot will get me out of this aerodrome, then I’m Elena *fucking* Minot!’”

*        *        *

HARRY DU BOIS – “I’m telling you, ‘Blue Ocean Hell’ is *the* cinematic masterpiece of the ’40s. Everyone who says it’s too depressing is WEAK.”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Ah, ‘Blue Ocean Hell.’ A meditation on societal alienation and disintegrating identity by way of a Zsiemsk immigrant character study, no? I once had coffee with the director -- we ran into each other at the Wompty-Dompty-Dom Centre.”

GUILLAUME BEVY – “Of *course* you did.”

JUDIT MINOT – “The… I’m sorry?”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “The Wompty-Dompty-Dom Centre!”

YOU – “Trant, we heard you the first time, it’s just that those words are absolutely meaningless.”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Ah! My apologies, officer. In that case, it is with great pleasure that I bring to your attention Vredefort’s foremost institution of interdisciplinary contemporary arts….”

*        *        *

THE MAJOR GODDAMN CRIMES UNIT PARTY – Through whatever alchemy -- lateness; alcohol; the collective realisation that even though half of you are wankers and half of you are morons, this team you and Harry have burnt yourselves out putting together might actually achieve some real shit -- the group takes on a life of its own.

Chester leads a small team to the station to borrow a projector, Host only knows why, in what Mack insists on calling a “raid,” which gets him a serious radio ass-whooping from Jules; they return after midnight with the projector, a box of disguise props, and *G-Bevy on a god-damned horse*.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “So he could get the cop’s-eye view! Am I good or am I good?”

MACK TORSON – “You’re good, partner!”

JUDIT MINOT – “That’s very clever, boys, but the horse has to stay outside.”

THE KITCHEN – The schoolteachers, including one grandmotherly type you’re convinced is the wildest son-of-a-bitch here, set up the projector with a stack of books for a stand and a bedsheet for a screen. Everyone smokes. Someone -- you’re pretty sure it’s Trant, which, what the fuck -- peels open a can of pyrholidon and passes it around.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Vibe’s great in here. Not like any civilian party you’ve been to. Why?

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – It clicks: they’re not cops, but they’re not *civilians*, either.

JOINT-SMOKING COUNSELOR – “I’m serious, lieutenant: what you’re describing is *major* fracturing of the self. Something hurt you *bad,* and you’re not healing without big-time intervention.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Not ‘something,’ some*one*: my lying, backstabbing, other-guy-fucking excuse for an ex-wife. But… we *all* have voices in our head, right? Like, guys that talk out loud and have their own bodies and argue with each other?”

JOINT-SMOKING COUNSELOR – “Do we all have different parts of ourselves? Yes. Do we have voices in our heads that aren’t *us*? No. We absolutely do not.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You’ve told him this at least three separate times. Also, Dora was the latest catastrophe, but if you had any reál to spare, you’d bet “dealing with traumatic shit, daily, since disco was *cool*” fucked him up way before Dora left.

THOM MINOT – “You okay, Sad Cop?”

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – HIDE. He already knows you’re weak.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – You can’t just ignore him.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Oh! Oh! *Idea!*

THE DISGUISE BOX – [Rummage through it until you find the right wig. Plunk it on your head. Expectantly look up at Thom, waiting for him to *get it*.]

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – He gets it! Look at the “aha” in those eyes.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – And look at those lashes… *whoo*, those are --.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – STOP.

THOM MINOT – “Gotta say, Jude, I didn’t think the beard would work on you, but I’m weirdly into it.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – YESSSSSSS

SOCIAL WORKER – “Somebody get the lights!”

JUDIT MINOT – She does, and then she scoots through the crowd to join you and Thom; she spots your “disguise” and shoots you a sly smile.

“Damn it, Thom, I can’t believe you’re cheating on me. With *me*! After all these years….”

THOM MINOT – Feigning shock, he looks from you, to Jude, to you. “Jean?! Oh, my god, I had no idea! Jude, I’m so sorry, babe.” He puts one arm around Jude and one arm around you. “Now that he’s here, though… can we keep him?”

GRANDMOTHERLY TEACHER – “Quiet! We’re starting!”

THE KITCHEN – The film’s a documentary about porch collapse, which is fucked, but you don’t register much of it. You’re too busy holding yourself in place: not letting yourself lean toward Thom or Jude, of course not, that would be inappropriate -- but carefully, *so* carefully, not pulling away.

*        *        *

Thursday 8 March ’51

PRECINCT 41 – Jude walks you to your locker and hands you your meds, which you take, then guides you to a repulsive couch in the repulsive lounge, where you collapse.

She closes and locks the door, biting her lip as she sits beside you.

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean, I don’t --.”

Thump.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Trivial: Success] – Fist on the door.

JUDIT MINOT – “Damn it.” She raises her voice. “Not now!”

Thump, thump.  

HARRY DU BOIS – “Open up! Police!”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – FUCK.

YOU –

1. [Ignore him. You’ve already dissociated. It won’t be hard.]
2. [Fire back. It’s a reflex.]

YOU – “We *know* you’re the police. *Everyone* here is the police. This is a *POLICE STATION*, you drunk lunatic.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “I’m not drunk, I’m ELECTRIC!”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – He’s drunk. And high.

JUDIT MINOT – “That’s great, Harry. You can tell me how smart you are later.” Her hands -- strong, small, lately warm in yours -- worry her woollen slacks. “Jean, if I’ve done something to --.”

Thump, thump, thump.  

JUDIT MINOT – Eyes closed, fingers restless, she takes slow, deep breaths like she does when the kids are on her last nerve.

“Harry, please wait for me at your desk, okay? I’ll talk with you in a minute.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “We don’t *have* a minute! We have a MOTHER! FUCKING! COP-OFF!!”

JUDIT MINOT – “I know, and that’s important, but I need to take care of something else first. When I’m all done, you can tell me about the Cop-Off.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Very slow, very e-n-u-n-c-i-a-t-e-d: that’s the speech of a very, *very* patient woman at the end of her fucking rope.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Also, clock those clenched fists.

JUDIT MINOT – “Please, Jean, I just --.”

THUMP.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – That wasn’t a fist. That was a whole body.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – A whole body whose mind is compromised -- he will absolutely destroy this door and anyone behind it.

HARRY DU BOIS – “OPEN UP IN THE NAME OF GUILLAUME LE MILLION OR I’LL BLOW MY FUCKING HEAD OFF!”

JUDIT MINOT – She explodes, fluently, like the oracle of some shitkid-wrecking god.

“HARRY, IF YOU TOUCH THAT DOOR ONE MORE TIME, I WILL COME OUT THERE, RIP OFF YOUR BALLSACK, AND STAPLE IT TO YOUR HEAD. IF YOU WANT TO KILL YOURSELF AFTERWARD, THAT’S BETWEEN YOU AND GUILLAUME, BUT UNTIL THEN SHUT UP, PISS OFF, AND LEAVE ME THE *FUCK* ALONE.”

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] – *Whoa*.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Harry blinks, slowly piecing together what the fuck just happened in his ears, as Jude shoots a bullet-harsh glare at the door.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Copy that, sister.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Footsteps. Unsteady.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Harry, making himself someone else’s problem.

JUDIT MINOT – Briefly, she presses her Chi-Rho pendant to her lips, then tucks it beneath her shirt. “Host forgive me for what I am become.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Murmured: a memorised prayer.

JUDIT MINOT – “What a shit-circus.” She sighs. “Before he comes back, could you *please* tell me what’s wrong? Was it bad, last night? Did I hurt you? Did Thom?”

YOU –

1. “Absolutely not.” (Technically a lie -- for one thing, your bound hands couldn’t reach your prick while Jude was on your face, and you fought the restraints until you were sore and couldn’t help whimpering -- but you fucking loved it, so it’s not the kind of hurt she means.)
2. [Reaction Speed 12: Challenging] “No. It was….” [Work out your answer as you go.]
3. “Jude… *I* was bad.”

Reaction Speed: Failure

YOU – “No. It was….”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Cathartic.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Bliss*.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – Yeah. That.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Full of homo stuff, which, for the record, *you are not supposed to like*.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – But you do.

AUTHORITY – Who cares? The whole night was an abuse of your position.

JUDIT MINOT – “… Jean?”

YOU – [Glance, just for a moment, at her anxious face. Love her. Hate yourself.]

“You didn’t hurt me, Jude. Neither did Thom. It was -- I enjoyed it.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, thank god.” Tears spill down her cheeks; she wipes them away with the back of her hand, but they keep coming. “Okay. Wow.”

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Comfort her. You really frightened her, Jean.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Sorry. Can’t. Overwhelmed.

JUDIT MINOT – “So if that’s not… if you had a good time, then why….”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Why were you gone when I woke up; why won’t you look me in the eye; why am I crying in this disgusting man-cave.

YOU –

1. “I took advantage of you.”
2. [Wait. That’s the truth, but you’re too ashamed to say it. Can’t you come up with something else?]

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – No. Face it or don’t, but you’re a garbage person who did a garbage thing. Don’t use words to wriggle out of it.

YOU –

1. “I took advantage of you.”

YOU – “I took advantage of you.”

JUDIT MINOT – She blinks: once, twice. “You -- I’m sorry?”

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – Come on. Get it over with.

YOU – “I outrank you. I’m your unit commander when Harry’s not around. I had a responsibility to refuse you, and I didn’t, and that’s -- not forgivable.”

JUDIT MINOT – Gently, she rests one hand on your knee; when you don’t pull away, she strokes you with her thumb.

“Jean, there’s nothing to forgive. What we did had nothing to do with work, or rank, or… I don’t know what to say, but please don’t think you’ve wronged me. You haven’t.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – I know you won’t, but you really should listen to her.

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] –No. She doesn’t realise how bad you are.

JUDIT MINOT – “Can you… how exactly do you think you took advantage of me?”

YOU –

1. “By existing.”
2. [Fuck’s sake. That’s true, but even you know how stupid it sounds. Say *some*thing specific.]

YOU – Yeah. How about: “You asked if I wanted to come to bed. I should have turned you down.”

JUDIT MINOT – She hums. “When you got there, and I took the restraints out from under the bed… are you afraid I did that because you outrank me, and I felt pressured? Really?”

YOU –

1. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.” (Lie.)
2. “Yes.”
3. [Sit beside her like a pile of frozen dog shit.]

YOU – [Do nothing. Say nothing. Watch dust flail in the window’s slanted light.]

JUDIT MINOT – “Or when Thom fucked you, and I was stroking your hair and telling you how good you were, how beautiful? When I washed you, after; when Thom massaged you; when we held you as you slept -- that was you taking advantage of me? Do you honestly believe that?”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – No.

EMPATHY [Trivial: Failure] – Yes.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – This, by the way, is the part where you answer her.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – You can’t.

SUGGESTION – You *have* to.

VOLITION – You *can’t*.

YOU – [Helplessly orbit yourself, a silent cretin moon forever falling toward a silent cretin planet. Feel ice tendrils creep like Pale from your sunless side.]

JUDIT MINOT – “Give me strength.” She hides her face in her hands; when she raises it again, blood shimmers on her lower lip.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – She bit herself.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Too distressed to cope.

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean, I -- I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work, so -- *fuck*.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Hear that odd note in her voice? That’s wounded disbelief. You put it there. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

JUDIT MINOT – There’s a click as she unlocks the door; before she opens it, she looks back at you, her brown eyes glittering.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – A faerie, fleeing the heat death of the universe.

JUDIT MINOT – “You didn’t ask, but last night *I* had a beautiful time, a *holy* time, with the two people I love most in all Elysium. Feel about it how you like, but I --.”

Her voice cracks; cold, heavy air falls into the crevasses that form inside you.

PERCEPTION (SOUND) [Easy: Success] – Footsteps on the other side of the door.

MACK TORSON – “Vic, you hiding in there? Dick Mullen’s losing his shit -- like, more than usual -- and I’m already late getting home. Can you talk him down?”

JUDIT MINOT – The breath she takes before she answers seems to take a glacial era. When she opens the door, Jude is gone; Patrol Officer Minot stands in her place.

“Sorry to make you wait, Sergeant Torson. As you can see, the satellite is unwell, but I would be happy to take over. Please go home and get some sleep.”

MACK TORSON – “Pretty sure I’m sleepwalking *now*. Thanks, Minot.”

He looks you over and grunts in sympathy. “Aw, Vic, you got that didn’t-take-your-meds face. Hang in there. It’ll -- did he just take them?” Jude nods. “Yeah. It’ll pass.”

Shooting you a brisk thumbs-up, he leaves; Jude follows, and you don’t hear her response when Mack asks, “Hey, what happened to your lip?”

*        *        *

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – After the ice takes you, the first thing to echo through the frostbitten dark is -- naturally -- Harry.

HARRY DU BOIS – “We aren’t going to ‘drive to Martinaise,’ Jules, we are going to DESCEND INTO THE ABYSS. How many times do I have to tell you?!”

JULES PIDIEU – “At least once more, sir, because Ma’am De Mettrie did not mention an abyss. The 57th wants to know when their lieutenant might expect you in Martinaise.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “They can *expect* me when I goddamn well feel like going!”

JULES PIDIEU – “And at what time might you *feel like going*, sir? Tomorrow? Next week? Perhaps once the 57th has solved the case?”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – A mighty crash: metal hitting wood?

JUDIT MINOT – She yelps -- with fear? Surprise?

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Pain. Go.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Can’t.

HARRY DU BOIS – “GET OFF MY DICK, JULES!”

JULES PIDIEU – “Officer Minot, are you all right?!”

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m fine, but I think Lieutenant Du Bois should take the rest of the day off.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Yeah, that’s right, get rid of the ONE guy who can actually lead this investigation. Whose side are you on?!”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – *Go*.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Want to. Can’t.

JUDIT MINOT – “We’re all on the same side, Harry, which is why I think you should go home. You’re scaring us. You’re scaring *me*.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Because you fear THE AUGUR OF WHAT IS TO COME.”

JUDIT MINOT – “No, because the way you’re speaking to us is cruel and frightening, and because you’re too -- that shelf *hit* me. You didn’t even notice, did you?”

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – GO.

YOU – You’re off the couch and out of the lounge and down the hall before you can adjust to the light, striding into the office with your head pounding like a meteor strike and auroras pulsing in the corners of your eyes.

JUDIT MINOT – She sits on the floor near an overturned metal shelf, ledgers piled around her, one arm cradled to her chest. Blood seeps through her white cotton sleeve.

HARRY DU BOIS – “-- would already have solved this case if you ASSHOLES weren’t second-guessing me, AGAIN. And the abyss laughs. It laughs! Because it will swallow --.”

YOU – [Grab the back of his shirt. Pull him toward the stairwell; when he resists, throw him across your shoulders and carry him down the stairs. Ignore every flammable word from his wasted mouth. Twist and turn through the corridors until you reach the garage. Drop him on the pavement.]

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] – KILL HIM.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – Understandable impulse, yeah, but don’t.

SUGGESTION [Challenging: Success] – Just send him home. See how cowed he looks? He’ll go.

YOU – [Lean down to speak to Harry, your hands on your knees, your head a nova of pain.]

“Pay attention, shitkid, because I’m only going to say this once: Go. Home. Don’t come back. We’ll go to Martinaise tomorrow. Show your face again today and I’ll feed you to Berdyayeva. Hurt Jude again, *ever*, and I’ll kill you before Berdyayeva gets the chance.”

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – And one more thing….

YOU – [Stare Harry down, feeling no sympathy for the pain and confusion in his bloodshot hazel eyes.]

“And hey, shitkid: fuck you for puking in my god-damned desk.”

Chapter Text

December ’48

THE MAJOR CRIMES UNIT – Because Fate loves slapping its dick in your face, you fall apart once the unit comes together.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Don’t be melodramatic. You worked your ass off to make this thing happen, and then you went straight into the casework. “Fate” nothing: you did this to yourself.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Your brain has always been an asshole who doesn’t leave you enough serotonin to stop you feeling like shit, and all these months as a fuckup who orbits Harry? Yeah. They made it worse.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – You’re not a fuckup, Jean.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – For every hero, a sidekick; for every high-performing alcoholic, a satellite.  

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Besides, what you do is difficult: helping people through their worst days; recovering bodies; documenting field autopsies; interviewing witnesses; raising concerns about colleagues’ ineptitude (fucking Mills -- all you can hope is that when the stupid prick gets someone killed, it’s not Jude) and malice (fucking McCoy -- just, *fuck* that guy); failing, over and over, to see justice done in the city or the precinct….

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Success] – It’d wear anyone down, but not you. Not quickly.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – On your better days, you feel… level. A neutral nobody.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Mostly, though, you feel like a sack of useless shit.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – But Harry treats you like his equal. He praises your thoroughness, your memory, your ability to *connect* with everything from overeducated Trant’s sunny chatter to frightened kids’ defensive monosyllables.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – You know, Jean, you talk yourself down for being “just” a satellite, but it’s exactly that lack of ego that lets you --.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Nope. No self-praise. It’ll make you lazy.

EMPATHY – He’s not lazy, but he *does* hate himself. Can’t you just let him --?

VOLITION – Nope.

EMPATHY – For god’s… fine. Burnout it is.

THE MAJOR CRIMES UNIT – You tick procedural boxes; you run interference between the consultants and the cops; you keep the shit-river of paperwork flowing without pissing off the wrong colleagues for the wrong reasons.

But nothing you do matches Harry: how he can-opens people, and closes cases, and stuns you silent with his fucking *hunch* thing.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Actually, Jean, what Harry experiences may or may not be ‘hunches’ per se! In fact, it’s quite fascinating: entroponautic research is uncovering a growing body of evidence that information -- well, no, that’s not wholly accurate, my apologies -- *data* freely travels through what might be termed the medium of pale. So it is possible that Harry synthesises what he learns through conventional channels with information -- with *data*! Ah, Trant, what a goose! -- from the entroposphere. And he doesn’t seem to be aware of the process, which is *so* interesting, don’t you think?”

YOU – “... Trant, are you high?”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “I am not! Would it be better if I were?”

YOU – “Honestly? I’m not sure. No offence.”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “None taken!”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – However Harry works, you admire the shit out of him for it -- and for routinely, *competently* doing things you wish more people at your precinct routinely, *competently* did, like gather the evidence and actually solve the case and not be a power-tripping, trigger-happy asshole.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – And he cares. Sure, he shows it differently than, say, Jude, but even after all these years steeped in Revachol’s collective worst, he talks about the city like a lover.  

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Admit it: you two *click*. You bounce ideas off each other, incessantly, driving the rest of the unit up the goddamn wall.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Sometimes you just ask stupid time-fillers to keep yourselves awake through late-night shifts: Who’s the prettiest girl you ever fucked? (Dora.) What’s the dumbest thing you ever did? (Dora.) If you were stranded on an islet way out in the freckled face of God, and you only had one book with you, and it *had* to be a Dick Mullen, would you read it or go straight to killing yourself? (For Harry? Somehow? Sorry, Jean, still Dora.)

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Despite Harry’s clinical-strength Unresolved Dora Situation, he’s your partner, and your friend, and *Harry Fucking Can-Opener*: you love the guy, and you don’t want to let him down.

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – That’s what gets you out of bed on the hard days.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – It’s winter. You’re a depressed asshole with a job that immerses you in traumatic shit and a heart that stubbornly aches for your married friend. They’re *all* hard days.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – You can handle it.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Until you can’t.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] – No, no, you always can. You just need to --.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – You can’t. It’s already happened. You’re just too sick to notice.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Think, Jean: where are you? *When* are you? What is it you have been doing while having these thoughts about Harry, and the unit, and your failing brain?

HALF LIGHT [Trivial: Success] – … Fuck.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Mid-morning sun, winter-weak, through tall windows. December? Smells like sweat and wood polish and rubber. You sit on the floor. There’s a mat beneath you. Your shoes dig into your thighs, which you see but don’t feel because your legs are asleep. Beneath your long-sleeved t-shirt, goosebumps.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – The precinct gym. You’ve been here a long time.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – Yeah. Whatever fuel it is that lets you be a *person*, not a body that hasn’t had the sense to die -- it’s run out.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Failure] – You try to send a distress signal on the precinct’s entroponetic in-channel, but it’s never worked for you before -- you’re no Harry or Jude -- and it’s not working for you now, either.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Get up.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – No. You coasted to this moment on fumes. Now even their ghosts are gone. It’s just you, stranded and adrift.  

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – No, look, Jude’s here too. She smells like the med bay? No -- she smells like the lotion at her desk. The med bay smells like the med bay, which is where you are, which is why it’s too bright and there’s cold metal on your chest and you’re sitting on something so high your feet don’t touch the floor.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Jude brought you here. You don’t remember. Short-term memory must be shot.

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Don’t take them all at once. I’m not joking, kid. Some of you bozos think if one pill will help, one hundred pills will *really* help. Do you know how many times I’ve had to pump Torson’s stomach? No, really, *do* you? Because I’ve lost count. Anyway, what you’re on clearly isn’t doing shit for you anymore. I can try you on risperizole instead. Take one tablet, with food, every morning. If it makes you less sad without making you cuckoo-bananas, double the dose in a couple weeks. Try to get to the gym in the meantime, and if you’re dead set on overdosing, don’t do it from a bottle with my name on it. Next!”

JUDIT MINOT – “Host in Heaven, Nix, look at him! Do you honestly think he’s going to retain any of that, much less *go to the gym*?”

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Hell, no. Just get him through this if you can and don’t beat yourself up if he doesn’t make it. I certainly won’t. NEXT!”

*        *        *

YOUR BEDROOM – The pill bottle is on the nightstand. Someone smells like cigarettes and beer. You are in bed. You are crying. You cannot stop.

*        *        *

YOUR BEDROOM – The pill bottle is on the nightstand. Someone is talking, cheerfully, like they don’t expect you to reply. You are in bed. You are crying. You cannot stop.

*        *        *

THE SHOWER – Warm water. You’re standing in it. Drops bounce on the tub floor.

HARRY DU BOIS – “C’mon, buddy, I promised Jude I’d make sure you got cleaned up while she’s changing your sheets. You remember how showers work, right?”

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] – Not really. Too many steps.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – And you can’t lift your arms. They feel alien. Unfathomably heavy.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Oh, man. This is -- would it be weirder for you if I got Jude to -- yeah, no, that would be weirder. Eyes up, partner, I’m comin’ in.”

He pulls back the curtain. He rolls up his sleeves.

“I won’t tell C-Wing about this if you won’t,” he says, and reaches for the shampoo.

*        *        *

YOUR BEDROOM – The pill bottle is on the nightstand. Someone smells like almonds. You are in bed and the sheets feel clean for the first time since you don’t remember and someone is towel-drying your hair and murmuring shh, Jean, you’re all right now, shh.

COMPOSURE [Impossible: Failure] – You are fucking crying, powerless and appalled as your whimpers turn to wails.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – You’re not even making noise. Noise is happening *through* you, and you can only watch, horrified, from the freshly scrubbed void of you.

*        *        *

YOUR BEDROOM – Someone hands you a glass of water, a tablet, a piece of dry toast. You drink. Swallow. Eat.

Someone lights a cigarette and someone else says Mack, if you give that to him, he’s gonna fall asleep with it and burn the place down. And you better hope you’re here when it happens, ’cause if you kill Harry’s all-time-favourite partner and live to tell him about it? You’re gonna be the victim in Dick Mullen And The Case Of That Dumbass Sergeant Who Got Disappeared, Like, Moralintern-Style.

No one gives you a cigarette. You sleep.

*        *        *

GUILLAUME BEVY, CHANNEL EIGHT – “In the darkest part of the year, a week before Revachol celebrates its annual Festival of the Light Returning, an officer of the Major Crimes Unit collapses at Precinct 41. Watching the unit tend to him during this flare-up of chronic major depression --.”

G-BEVY – “No, that’s medical. Don’t put it on air. … Is it in the public interest, though? … No. He’s on leave. Rephrase.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – He doesn’t realise he woke you. Clear your throat or something.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – No way. Listening to him go back and forth between his radio voice and his just-a-guy voice is the best entertainment you’ve had since you got sick. You’re not cutting it *that* short.

GUILLAUME BEVY, CHANNEL EIGHT – “Watching the unit tend to him during this early, bedridden phase of his recovery, you could be forgiven for forgetting --.”

G-BEVY – “Blech, cliché. Or… wait, no, I’m thinking of ‘forgive and forget’. Should be okay.”

GUILLAUME BEVY, CHANNEL EIGHT – “ -- for forgetting that on average, Precinct 41 is responsible for a staggering 25% of the RCM’s annual civilian fatalities. I hold this fact in my mind as I sit at the officer’s bedside early one morning, unable to reconcile its terrible weight with the care these men and women --.”

G-BEVY – “There aren’t women on the unit, though. Not from the RCM. Just Jude, and technically, she’s not even… wait, hang on, why *is* she spending so much time here? I know she’s Harry’s friend….”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – He taps his pencil against his notepad.

G-BEVY – “Eh. Maybe she and Jean are boning.”

YOU –

1. [Say nothing. This is *gold*.]
2. “Boning *so* hard. How do you think I ended up like this?” (Lie, unfortunately.)
3. “We’re not, but I’m carrying a serious torch.”

YOU – “We’re not, but I’m --.”

G-BEVY – “Holy fuck!”

He leaps up, pencil flying one way and notepad careening another as the chair clatters to the floor behind him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Failure] – You laugh-cough in sore bursts, your neglected throat protesting your attempt to speak, and pull yourself to a half-assed slump against the headboard.

G-BEVY – “Shit, Vic, how long have you been awake?”

He retrieves the things he threw, rights the chair, sits, and checks your expression. Then he scrubs his hands across his face. “That long, huh? That’s it. I’m done. Time to retire. Maybe I’ll just die and save myself the embarrassment.”

YOU – “Don’t. That was great. Seriously: thank you.”

G-BEVY – He smiles, awkwardly tucking his long, blond hair behind his ears. “You’re very generous. Thanks.”

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Behind the *smooth radio voice* and wanker poseur shit, there’s this guy: bright, observant, and painfully shy.

G-BEVY – “I should get you breakfast so you can take your meds… are you still doing dry toast, or should I go rogue and add some butter?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Failure] – Oh, god, no butter. You can barely keep down the toast.

G-BEVY – You must have pulled a face, because as he heads out to the kitchen, he says, “Dry it is. Hold on, vieux frère. Won’t be long.”

*        *        *

YOUR BEDROOM – You sleep, and you half-wake, your eyes too heavy to open.

ARMAND MINOT – “Maman, this is boring.”

THOM MINOT – “Not as boring as church is gonna be.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Quiet, you heathens, it’s the only time all year I ask you to come with me. *And* it’s an evening service -- you don’t even have to get up early, hmm? Anyway, don’t complain. You’ll wake him.”

ARMAND MINOT – “Is he going to die?”

LUC MINOT – “You can’t ask that! Idiot.”

THOM MINOT – “Hey! Don’t talk to your brother like that.”

JUDIT MINOT – “That’s right -- it’s not kind. And no, mon trésor, he’s not going to die.”

ARMAND MINOT – “Dr Nix said he might. He gave me a caramel. It’s still stuck to my teeth.”

LUC MINOT – “Why’d you get the *good* candy? I got taffy or something, and it tasted like… like… *old socks*.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Dr Nix is a very complicated man.”

ARMAND MINOT – “What does that mean?”

THOM MINOT – “It means Jean is going to be fine, and Papà is going to yell at Dr Nix next time he sees him.”

LUC MINOT – “Ha, Dr Nix is in *trouble*!”

ARMAND MINOT – “Yeah! Do you think he’ll give me another caramel?”

LUC MINOT – “No fair, you already got one! It’s your turn to get the stupid sock taffy.”

THOM MINOT – “Fight about the candy, boys, and your papà will eat it all just to shut you up.”

JUDIT MINOT – “My god, you’re as bad as each other. Would you *hush*? I don’t want to confess to the Ecclesiastes that I killed three people before I even got to church, and on a holy day, no less.”

THOM MINOT – “That’d be kind of bad-ass, though.”

ARMAND MINOT – “Yeah!”

LUC MINOT – “You’re not gonna kill us, Maman, you’re just gonna be like, ‘Host in Heaven, boys, you make me so *tired*!’”

THOM MINOT – “Damn, Luc, that’s spot on. You did the cranky little necklace turn and everything.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Host in -- out, all of you! Wait in the other room, and for Heaven’s sake, be *quiet*. We can go when Trant gets here.”

ARMAND MINOT – “Yay, Trant! Is he bringing Mikael?”

JUDIT MINOT – “*Out*!”

THOM MINOT – “Sorry, babe. I know we’re pains, but unfortunately for you, we’re *your* pains.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – A kiss; two sets of giggles and light footsteps, receding.

THOM MINOT – “Want me to light that candle?”

JUDIT MINOT – “That’d be helpful, actually. Thanks.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – A couple of heavy steps; a match being struck; a wick, crackling as it burns. Another kiss.

THOM MINOT – “Love you. If Sad Cop wakes up, tell him he’s not allowed to die. He’s too pretty.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m not telling him that!”

THOM MINOT – “Am I wrong, though?”

JUDIT MINOT – “… I’ll tell him you said hi. And I love you too, even though you’re a hopeless bi-sexual --.”

THOM MINOT – “Takes one to know one.”

JUDIT MINOT – “-- and a pain in my ass.”

THOM MINOT – “Only if we both get impatient.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Would you get *out*?!”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Two peoples’ muffled laughter. Heavy footsteps. A door closed, softly.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – Through the blanket, a small, strong hand lights on your arm, then flutters to your forehead.

JUDIT MINOT – “Mon pauvre cher. How are you this sick and still less work than those three?” She sighs, gently stroking your hair. “At least we didn’t wake you.”

YOU – They did. You sleep.

Chapter Text

31 December ’48

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Someone’s huge hand pats your arm, then gently closes around your shoulder and shakes you awake.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Thom?

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – … What?

HARRY DU BOIS – “Jean. Hey. Wake up.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – No, seriously: *what*?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – There’s peace in having your partner near: keeping watch, knowing the same tough things you know. You could easily fall back to sleep.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – Good for you, but he told you to wake up.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Don’t you wonder what you meant by --?

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – NO.

HARRY DU BOIS – “C’mon, get dressed. I’m dragging you out of this hell-pit.”

VOLITION [Medium: Failure] – Absolutely not. It’s *your* hell-pit, your sad, quiet place you never have to come out of. You can get dressed when you’re dead.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – If you don’t get up, you’ll let your partner down.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – … Fine.

YOU – [Sit up. Pull the blanket with you, and blink until your eyes focus.]

YOUR BEDROOM – Bare walls: peeled, pale yellow paint over grey brick. Late afternoon sunlight leaks through the window, which your chifferobe leans toward like a clumsy wooden flower. On one side of your bed, Harry sits in a chair he pinched from the kitchen; on the other, your nightstand hosts a box of tissues, a clock, a new bottle of risperizole, and a votive.

HARRY DU BOIS – “There’s my guy. Sorry for waking you, but Jude and Thom invited us over to make characters for Wirrâl, which sounds way better than another night of your snoring.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – He’s sober -- *really* sober. From the clarity in his expression and the lack of DTs, you’d say it’s been… at least a couple weeks?

YOU –

1. “What time is it?”
2. “What day is it?”
3. “Wow, you’re… *sober* sober.”

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Whoa, hold on. Don’t ask that. You’ll sound like an idiot. Check for yourself -- your clock’s right there.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – It’s about 16.00.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] – This time of year, evening’s not far off. It’ll be stone dark by 17.00.

YOU – 

1. “What day is it?”
2. “Wow, you’re… *sober* sober.”

YOU – “What day is it?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “New Year’s Eve. Congrats, you depressed son of a bitch: you’re gonna make it to ’49.” He pats your leg through the blanket. “How you feeling?”

YOU –

1. “Great. Forty-nine, here I come.” (Lie, unconvincingly.)
2. “I mean… I’m not asleep, and I’m not crying.”
3. “Forget how *I’m* feeling -- you’re sober. What the fuck?”
4. “Like a stupid, shitty kid who can’t get out of bed.”

YOU – “Like a stupid, shitty kid who can’t get out of bed.”

HARRY DU BOIS – He nods, then ambles toward your chifferobe. As he talks, he launches clothes at you like he’s at rugby throwing lineouts.

“You know, Jean, before Dearest Dora -- may she rot in hell, or I guess Mirova -- talked me into joining the RCM, I used to teach high-school gym, so I also taught high-school health.”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – A white t-shirt and a grey jumper collide with the bed.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Now, bearing in mind that I’ve sailed a vast ocean of Commodore Red since then, I seem to remember that brains like my brain, like *your* brain? They’re assholes.”

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Thwump, thwump: black jeans, black socks.

HARRY DU BOIS – “So if your brain tells you you’re a stupid, shitty kid? Tell it so what. I’m ten years older than you, Jean, and I’m *still* a shitkid. I don’t let it stop me. Don’t let it stop you, either.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Wait-wait-wait. New word alert: “shitkid.”

Shitkid.

This is purest aurum: the holy of holies, the One True Name against which all Harry’s other names will forever be judged and found wanting.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Trivial: Success] – Briefs, fired smack into your face.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Also, everything in this wardrobe makes you look like you’re going to your own funeral. No wonder you’re suicidal.” He puts his hands on his hips like a -- well, like a disappointed gym teacher. “Don’t you have anything more… colourful?”

YOU –

1. [Point to his tie.] “So we can be, what, a matched set of Psychedelic Douchebag Cops? No thanks.”
2. “Seriously, Harry: you are *astonishingly* sober. What gives?”

YOU – [Point to his tie.] “So we can be, what, a matched set of Psychedelic Douchebag Cops? No thanks.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Hey, the meds *are* helping! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t feel up to being a sass-hole.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – He means it. He likes your attitude problem.

YOU – “Calm down, shitkid, they’re not helping *that* much.” [Look at the clothes crumpled on the bed.] “I can’t… I don’t think I can go.”

HARRY DU BOIS – He settles into the chair with his elbows on his knees, leaning toward you and raising his eyebrows in a way that says Listen up, chucklefuck.

“Jean. Partner. Saddest Living Cop. I’ve torn your toast into pieces and fed them to you like the tragic baby bird you are, and wiped away your tears and your snot, and rinsed your balls -- which, just so we’re clear, I would’ve been happy to die without ever having seen outside the locker room, much less deep-cleaned -- so the soap wouldn’t make them itchy. In other words, I love you. Which is why if you don’t get your sorry ass out of that bed, *now*, I’m gonna pull it out.”

YOU AND HARRY DU BOIS – You stare at each other, your very different faces nonetheless sporting twin looks of What the fuck.

HARRY DU BOIS – “I meant I’d pull your ass out of bed, not my dick out of my… yeah, no, that was my bad. Now are you getting up or what?”

YOU –

1. [Don’t get up. You’re trying to die quietly, here.]
2. [Volition 10: Medium] [Get up, and sass Harry while you do it.]
3. [Volition 12: Challenging] [Get up, but don’t sass him.]

Volition 10: Success

YOU – [Get up. Start to get dressed.] “Did you seriously just compare yourself to a mother bird?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Ca-caw, motherfucker!”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You asked a yes-or-no question, and that… doesn’t answer it.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – This is Harry you’re talking to. What exactly were you expecting?

YOU – [Get overwhelmed by how hard it feels to dress yourself. Let Harry help you. Try not to feel like a useless piece of shit. Feel like one anyway.]

HARRY DU BOIS – He pats your back. “Lookin’ good. You get your boots, I’ll get your coat?”

YOUR APARTMENT – You get your boots. Harry gets your coat, and your gloves, and your scarf, and your hat, then bundles you into them like an inexplicably doting parent.

HARRY DU BOIS – “All right, you sad, beautiful bastard.” He pulls on his own cold-weather gear. “Let’s *do* this.”

*        *        *

JAMROCK NORTH – The district’s already manic. Motor carriages crammed with screaming partiers honk at each other; pedestrians who look like they’ve been drinking since daybreak shout “Happy ’49!” and offer you swigs from open bottles as they stagger past.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Hey, some of those are bubbly! You could just have a *teensy* little --.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – NO.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Harry must be finding this more challenging than you are. Don’t make it harder for him.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Besides, Jean, alcohol’s a depressant. It’s not like you need help with that.

MAIN STREET – Barely dressed people queue under neon lights, chatting and arguing and so completely blocking the footpath that you and Harry keep having to detour through kerb piles of exhaust-stained slush.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Aren’t those people freezing? You can’t even breathe through your mouth -- the air’s so cold it hurts the back of your throat.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – They’re too drunk or too high to notice. Possibly both.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – A drawn-out string of explosions -- sharp, percussive -- punctures the twilight.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – GUN. DROP. Get to cover with Harry.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – No, calm down. It’s fireworks. Are they illegal? Technically. Stupid? Certainly. But they’re not worth getting upset about.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – They are. In the precinct stables, the horses will be losing their goddamn minds; you hope someone’s looking after them tonight.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Harry jumped, too -- keep your guard up.

HARRY DU BOIS – He looks at you, the movement wobbling the stupid pompom on his stupid hat. “Side streets?”

YOU –

1. “Yeah. Thanks, shitkid.”
2. “Side streets. Also, that’s a stupid hat.”

YOU – “Side streets. Also, that’s a stupid hat.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “No way! I found it in a cardboard box on Porta Rosa. That makes it *cool*.” He grins. “Anyway, you’re just jealous of my bitchin’ pompom.”

YOU – [Smile a little, surprising yourself. Turn with Harry down Tabernacle, passing crumbling brick bungalows and corrugated lean-tos and fenced-in abandoned lots. Walk on the crunchy, snow-covered ground rather than risk the icy pavement dumping you on your ass. Zigzag southeast until you reach Meroe.]  

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Hang on, you just realised something: Jude and Thom live on the same street as the *good* library.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] – They’re about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes’ walk north of it.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – What a couple of binos.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Yeah!

JUDE AND THOM’S HOUSE – Light glows in the front windows, throwing shadows across the shovelled and salted footpath. You climb the stairs to the porch, where colourful plastic sleds lean against something -- bicycles, if you had to guess -- covered by a tarp.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Before you or Harry can knock, a child cries I’ve got it! and stampedes in your direction, then unlocks and yanks open the door.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – You’re pretty sure that’s Luc: he’s scrawnier than Armand and, thanks to his two-year lead, missing fewer teeth.

LUC MINOT – Eyes wide, half-hugging and half-hiding behind the door, he looks from you to Harry like you’ve just stepped out of a Folded M dimension.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Relatable, kid.

JUDIT MINOT – “Okay, Luc, what do you say?”

LUC MINOT – He takes a deep breath and recites what seems to be a script, treating the whole thing like a single word.

“Happy-New-Year-welcome-to-our-home-can-you-please-take-off-your-shoes-as-you-come-in-thank-you.”

YOU AND HARRY DU BOIS – By the time you’ve shut the door behind you and started to shed your outside clothes, Luc has skittered into the kitchen.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Man, his prosody is *really* off, especially for a kid his age. He’s what, nine?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – And smaller than his younger brother.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – He’s retarded.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – No way. You haven’t spent much time around him, but you’ve still seen him read more books than most of the adults you know.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Okay, he’s *selectively* retarded.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Also, don’t say “retarded.” It’s mean. Say cretin.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Shit! Fine! The kid is *selectively cretin*. Host in Heaven, can you go inside now?!

JUDE AND THOM’S KITCHEN – The room’s full of heat from the coal stove, where Thom stirs a burbling saucepan. Quiet, cheerful music doot-doots from the radio.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – That’s FNK 97.1, “where the funk only ends if you turn that dial!”

THOM MINOT – “Hey, coppo loco. Hey, Sad Cop. Glad you made it!”

THE KITCHEN TABLE – Jude pages through a well-used Wirrâl sourcebook; Luc perches on the chair next to Jude’s, his knees hugged to his chest.

JUDIT MINOT – She smiles at Harry, then at you. “Sit down and warm up, you two. You look half-frozen. Dinner’s not far off -- I hope you don’t mind eating a little early?”

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] – Whatever Thom is cooking, it smells amazing even to your dry-toast palate. You’re getting garlic, onion, and plenty of tomato and oregano.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Hell no. I’m always hungry.” He plunks down in the chair across from Jude and, like an asshole, promptly leans back with his hands behind his head and his elbows out. “Where’s Armand?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Staying the night at a friend’s, so it’s just us and this little sprite.”

YOU – [Sit next to Harry, who’s talking, but you’re not paying attention because….]

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – The last time you were around Thom and Jude, they thought you were *asleep*-asleep -- not just depression-asleep -- and you heard them say they’re both bi-sexual.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – So they’re half homo. Good for them. Don’t get any ideas.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Failure] – You couldn’t if you tried. You’re too sad.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – But you could… ask them about it? Maybe? If you wanted to learn something…?

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – You’re not asking your co-worker about her sexuality. You’re not asking your co-worker’s husband about *his* sexuality. You’re *forgetting you heard anything* and stuffing that memory straight into your brain’s incinerator.

Now quit zoning out and pay attention, loser.

THOM MINOT – “If I use store-bought, my mom will *know*.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “She Kedran?”

THOM MINOT – “My grandparents were, but Mom’s never even left Revachol. Doesn’t stop her calling pre-made sauce ‘an *insult* to her *people*.’”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Vic?

VOLITION [Formidable: Failure] – You want to look at Jude, but you can’t, so you keep staring at the tabletop like a tool.

JUDIT MINOT – “Vic, I know you only just got here, but I could really use a smoke. Join me?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Harry wants in, but Jude warns him away.

YOU – [Nod. Get your coat and boots, carry them through to the back door, put them on, and go out to the patio.]

THE PATIO – An electric wall lamp throws crisp shadows. Jude sits at a small, glass-topped table, her anorak zipped up to her chin.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – In a nearby yard, the sounds and smells of someone grilling; in the distance, people partying and fireworks crackling.

JUDIT MINOT – “Hold on, let me --.” She wipes snow and dead leaves from the other chair. “Thom doesn’t smoke, so it’s usually just me out here.”

YOU – [Sit. Smoke. Share a comfortable cigarette-long silence, staring aimlessly into the dark.]

JUDIT MINOT – “It’s really good to see you.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – Out of bed and in actual clothes, she means.

JUDIT MINOT – She puts out the stub in the ashtray, then smiles at you… sorrowfully? Her voice, pitched low, certainly sounds it.

“I don’t want to make you feel -- I don’t know what you’re going through. But it’s important to me that you know that if you were gone, I would miss you, and I want -- I hope you stay where I can reach you.”

YOU –

1. “I hope I do, too.” (Lie.)
2. “I hope I do, too.” (Mean it, to your surprise.)

YOU – [Put out your cigarette. Try to rub some of the cold away.] “I hope I do, too.”

JUDIT MINOT – She reaches for your hands and cups them in her own, then brings them to her lips and, eyes closed, breathes warmth over you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Oh.*

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – Not just warmth. Life.

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] – Shit, though, she looks like she’s about to cry.

JUDIT MINOT – She lets go and puts her hands in her pockets as she stands.

“God, I’m sorry, that was -- *so* inappropriate of me.”

YOU – [Stand, too.] “No, it’s fine, I --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I can’t believe --.”

YOU – “Really, Jude, that was --.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – The back door squeaks open.

THOM MINOT – “Dinner’s on the table.”

JUDIT MINOT – She wipes her eyes. “Thanks. We were just coming in.”

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Thom asks some variation of The fuck? in their nonverbal spousal shorthand; you can’t tell what or how Jude responds, but whatever she does, it seems to reassure him.

THE KITCHEN – Dinner’s peaceful, and the food’s the best you’ve eaten in -- recent memory. Jude shepherds Luc away for their bedtime routine, and you offer to help Thom with the dishes, but he turns you down and asks you to set up for Wirrâl instead.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Cool, cool. Think I’ll have a quick smoke.”

THOM MINOT – “Harry,” he says, brandishing a wooden spoon, “if you think you got a flat ass now, wait’ll you see it after you’ve bailed on me. Thing’s gonna be so caved in, my mom’ll put the good plates in it and hang some fabric to cover them.”

YOU – [Fetch books and character sheets and dice and pencils and erasers  from the living room while Thom and a visibly contrite Harry clean the kitchen. When you’re sure they’re not looking, hold your hands to your face. Search for the heat Jude gave you.]

*        *        *

THE KITCHEN – At the table: a pot of coffee, a plate of biscuits, a technicality of binos.

THOM MINOT – “So am I right in thinking we’re all familiar with Untethered?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Jean and I are. Mack and Chester, not so much -- I don’t think they’ve played any tabletops at all -- but I talked them into joining us. They’re working tonight, so I said we’d make their characters, and Mack asked me for….” He flips open his notebook.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Yeah, his *police* notebook. For his *police* work. There shouldn’t be anything in there that could reflect poorly on him or the RCM.

HARRY DU BOIS – “A ‘man-from-Hjelmdall warrior guy with mega muscles and a big-dick sword.’ Chester wants ‘a chill knife-throwing bro’ and, keeping in mind that I’m quoting the man, ‘boots that don’t leave footprints and help me score *epic* pussy.’ Think we can swing that?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – *Sigh*.

THOM MINOT – He nods, taking notes on lined paper. “We can put together a barbarian and a rogue for them, sure. I’ll, uh, need to talk with Chester about the boots.”

JUDIT MINOT – “You *did* tell them they don’t have to play as themselves, didn’t you?”

HARRY DU BOIS – He shrugs. “It didn’t come up.”

YOU – *You’re* not playing as yourself. *You’re* making an orphaned monk who channelled his pain by honing his body into a god-damned weapon. Now, he’s leaving the monastery to kick ass and investigate the heat death of the universe -- on the side of the universe!

And maybe make a friend or two. He’s pretty lonely, the monk.

LIMBIC SYSTEM – … Should we tell him?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN – Tu te fous de moi? He buttoned his fly wrong when he was getting dressed and damn near cried about it, and you want to remind him he’s just a fucked-up orphan afraid to believe anyone wants him? Ne lui dites rien.

LIMBIC SYSTEM – Comme tu voudrais.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – *Damn*, you feel weird and tired.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Depression fugue-brain, probably. Also, it’s late, and it’s been a few weeks since you stayed awake for this many hours.

THOM MINOT – “G-Bevs has to work, too, but we already had a chat about his character. He’s good to join us whenever he can.”

JUDIT MINOT – “He’ll be on air later.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Nice! We’ll tune in. What’s he gonna be, a bard?”

THOM MINOT – “Got it in one.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “That’s our boy.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Seriously, Jean: you’re *tired*.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Don’t give in. You’re finally doing something nice with -- with friends.

THOM MINOT – “You’re okay with that? I thought you might want the bard.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Nah, I’m going warlock this time. Really feeling *the Entity*.”

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – That’ll be the in-universe equivalent of Revachol if you’re lucky, and the in-universe equivalent of Dora if you’re not.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – You’re not. Change the subject.

YOU – “How about you, Jude?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, I think I’ll just make a simple cleric.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – She’s lying. Her smirk and glittering eyes say she wants you all to know it.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – In-*tri*-guing!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – WHO. CARES. GO TO SLEEP.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Uh-oh, I think Jean’s out of batteries.”

THOM MINOT – “No worries, Jean. We can sort you out in the morning.”

YOU – [Nod, gratefully.]

JUDIT MINOT – “I’ll help you with the sofa-bed. It can be… temperamental.”

YOU – [Stand. Vaguely wave.] “Happy New Year, Thom. Happy New Year, shitkid.”

[Follow Jude into the living room. Help her help you with the sofa-bed, which appears to be an unassuming three-seater but is in fact a diabolical machine that lusts for human flesh. Somewhat nervously, lie down; when Jude sits beside you, relax.]

JUDIT MINOT – “Sleep well, Vic. Happy New Year.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – She doesn’t look or sound quite herself: probably still feels bad about earlier.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – So let her know she shouldn’t.

YOU – [Take her hand. When her surprised eyes meet yours, look at her -- really *look*.]

“Thank you for --.” [Squeeze her hand while you fumble for words.] “For reaching me.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Her mouth shakes: she really *is* going to cry.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – No, she’s not. She’s infinitely better than you at keeping her shit together. Look: she’s already done it.

JUDIT MINOT – She leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It was my privilege. Good night.”

YOU – “Good night.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Your last memory of ’48 is the voice of Guillaume Bevy, Channel Eight, wishing Revachol a safe and happy New Year on behalf of “all those who truly serve her.”

Chapter Text

Interlude: January ’49

NORTH JAMROCK – Two blankets muffle the district tonight: a big snow, and the quiet that falls after. East of the river, plows and salt trucks clear wide roads; in Revachol West, white shrouds mark abandoned motor carriages. Stars burn cold in a clear, sharp sky.

YOU – You’ve only just got home. Quietly, you climb the steps -- you don’t want to wake the boys -- and shake the slush from your boots before you let yourself in. 

YOUR HOUSE – The kitchen’s a disaster of full dish racks, and children’s clothes, and “*really* cool rocks” that Armand *promised* you he’d keep in his room, and unfinished homework, and pencils Luc gnawed half to death. 

YOU – You sigh. At least Thom kept the coal stove burning.

You blow into your hands, take a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself two fingers of whiskey. You should put back the bottle, you really should… but you bring it with you. 

Glass in hand, you sit at the table and lean back with your legs stretched out. You close your eyes. The kitchen is quiet; the stove is warm. The whiskey is shit, but it’s brutal, and that’s all you need.

You hear Thom shuffle through the living room -- he’s trying not to make noise, but the house is creaky, and he’s not light -- then feel him settle into the nearest chair. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, and his warm, callused hand surrounds yours.

THOM MINOT – “Bad day?” 

Yes. They all are, lately. It’s dark. It’s cold. The city doesn’t want to be patrolled, and you don’t blame it, but you can’t just *not patrol*, either. Then there’s your partner -- no wonder Vacholières call you pigs and worse -- who’s less reliable and more self-assured than ever. “Experience is the assassin of wisdom,” the Ecclesiastes read last Sunday, and you thought immediately of Joe. Harry is on a sobriety kick, thank God, but he’s trying to do his job *and* Jean’s while *also* trying to persuade Pryce to sic the Major Crimes Unit on La Madre when Jean gets back, which is so stupid that only someone as smart as Harry could come up with it. And it would be awful for Jean, who is -- who is --. 

HARRY DU BOIS – “I see you’ve been picking your fingers again.”

YOU – “Oh, Harry, you didn’t come over to my desk to talk about that. You’re just lonely and scared and bad at being sober.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Hey, I’ve been sober for *weeks* now -- I’m practically an expert! But actually, I do have a question for you: you’re a good shot. A *great* shot. I’m pretty sure McCoy creamed his pants the first time he saw you practice. Not sure whether that was a competency kink thing or a violence kink thing, but either way, *damn* was that an awkward thing to notice. I don’t know why Berdyayeva still lets him carry.”

YOU – “... Your question, detective?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Sorry, sorry. So, you have the bullets. You have the skills. But you haven’t shot Joe -- why?”

YOU –“Because I already have too much paperwork, and shooting people makes it worse. You know that. Also, God and the MI both take a dim view of murder, and I don’t want trouble with either. Any other mysteries I can clear up, or can I tell you how proud I am of you and get back to my work?”

HARRY DU BOIS – He smiled. The sad, tired lines around his eyes didn’t move. 

“Aren’t you going to talk to me about the finger-picking?”

YOU – “There’s nothing to talk about.” Then, when he looked at you like a disappointed teacher: “Anxiety. That’s all.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “You’re always anxious. You don’t always pick your fingers. You only do that when you feel ashamed, and the only thing I can figure you’d be ashamed of is --.”

YOU – “Please get off my desk.”

HARRY DU BOIS – He hopped off your desk, his colourful tie swinging. “I still don’t get why you two don’t fuck. Are you worried he won’t be into kink?” 

You shot him your strongest glare, and he switched to sharing thoughts: He’s a *satellite*, Jude. That’s, like, Sensitivity Training for ‘terminal submissive.’ 

YOU – “Harry, I love you, but I *will* shoot you if you don’t leave.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Oh, so you’d shoot me, but not Joe? I see how it -- whoa, okay! Leaving!”

YOU – “Not so bad. Just long.” 

You sip. It warms you, the whiskey. Calms you.

“How was tonight?”

THOM MINOT – “Uneventful. Boys fought over the radio until I told them they could take turns or I could throw the damn thing all the way to Mundi and they could make do without it. Believe it or not, they took turns.” 

You smile. Your eyes are still closed, but you can hear in Thom’s voice that he’s smiling, too.

“How’s Jean?”

YOU – Recovering. Beautiful. Trying, heartbreakingly hard, to hold on. 

“He’s okay. More with-it than he’s been in weeks. The meds aren’t -- Nix upped his dose again. He says given Jean’s history, he’s lucky they’re doing anything at all, but it’s so little, and it’s so….” You open your eyes. “*Slow*.”

THOM MINOT – “Mmm.” 

He probably means Poor bastard , which doesn’t stop you from worrying that he means I already know.

YOU – “But he ate an actual *meal* tonight, a whole one, and that’s… a first since he got sick, I think. So that’s good.”

THOM MINOT – “Is it? Because you still look miserable.”

YOU –  Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. “Nix says this is the most dangerous part of recovery because he’s still suicidal, but he’s improved enough to -- he’s so *alone* at his flat, Thom. What if he…?”

THOM MINOT – He grunts. “I’m guessing you wanna invite him to live here until he comes out the other side of… whatever this is?”

YOU – “You’d let me?” 

THOM MINOT – “‘Let’ nothing. It’s your house as much as mine.”

YOU – “I don’t want to upset you or the boys.”

THOM MINOT – “Babe, if helps you, either of you, we’ll make it work.”

THE KITCHEN – For a time there’s only the mutter of coal in the stove, the shuffle of snow on the roof, somewhere the dogged scrape of a shovel.

THOM MINOT – “So I have this friend.”  

His voice is soft and deep -- like snow, but warmed with pre-emptive compassion.

YOU –  Shit.

Your glass is empty, somehow; your legs look small beside Thom’s. He’s wearing flannel pajamas that look so soft, your slacks feel scratchier by comparison.

THOM MINOT – “This guy, he’s smart, down-to-earth, has *amazing* hair.”

YOU – You start to pour yourself another drink, then stop. Instead, you squeeze your wrist, *hard*.

“Is he half a husband, half an exasperating manchild who resists doing his fair share around the house because chores are *women stuff* and his dad never did them, so why should he?”

THOM MINOT – Slowly, he nods. “Yeah. He’s been working on that for a while. Lucky for him, his wife’s really, *really* patient.” 

YOU –  Host forgive me, you pray, feeling your bones move under your grip, I let shame make me unkind .

THOM MINOT – “Anyway, the reason I’m talking about this guy is, he moves heavy things. Some he carries with his sexy, impressive muscles. Some he lifts with machines you need a licence and a paid-up union membership just to think about. But all of it requires him to be *mega* good at knowing when things around him are going to collapse, right?”

YOU – You let go of your wrist and fidget with your necklace. You’ve been married a long time. It’ll be fine. It *will*.

“He sounds modest, your friend.”

THOM MINOT – “Incredibly. Glad you pointed that out.” 

You’ve been together so long that you don’t know, anymore, whether everything you see in his expression -- we both know I’m a cocky son of a bitch and I don’t mind you making fun of me for it; I love you; you’re only interrupting because you know where this conversation is going and you don’t like it -- would be obvious to anyone but you. 

“Now, my friend’s wife, she’s usually anxious.” 

YOU – “Mmm.” Self-consciously, you let your necklace go.

THOM MINOT – “But lately she’s been more… I don’t know, brittle? Barely wants to talk, doesn’t want to fuck, pretends to be asleep but she’s quiet-crying into her pillow.” 

YOU – Shit, shit, *shit*.

THOM MINOT – “And my friend feels like shit when he sees her hurting like that -- like she’s going to collapse. He wants to know what’s upsetting her, because whatever it is, he wants to grab it and throw it far, far away, like he threatened to do to the radio when their darling children were fighting over it. By the way, he has great muscles. Did I mention them?” 

YOU –  Host in Heaven, stop being so funny and *kind* and just tell me I fucked up.  

“Believe it or not, you did.”

THOM MINOT – “Good, because they’re enormous and extremely sexy. But so far, they haven’t helped him figure out what’s bothering his wife. You got any ideas?”

And he waits, curious and calm, as though you deserve for him to be gentle. 

YOU – You can’t cry. This is your fault: you’re not allowed. 

“Maybe she’s ashamed.”

THOM MINOT – “I don’t know, she’s pretty great.” He pats your leg. “Why would she be ashamed?”

YOU – “Maybe she….” 

Your hand’s around your wrist again. “Maybe she has feelings for someone else.”

THOM MINOT – “Feelings happen.” Softly, he taps his foot against yours. “These two trust each other. He wouldn’t worry if she had feelings for someone else, and neither should she.”

YOU – You’re going to tell him, you’re going to throw up, you can’t cry, you aren’t here.

“But she’s been spending a lot of time with this person she -- has feelings for. Too much time.”

THOM MINOT – “It’s not too much. Yeah, it sucks that I’ve had to pick up the slack when you’re --.” 

Your jaw trembles, you can’t help it, you hear your teeth hitting each other, hail striking eternite, and he stands and pulls you to your feet and holds you close.

“Hey, just because it sucks doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You’ve been gone a lot, yeah, but he’s sick, and you’re taking care of him. I get it.”

YOU – “I *did* do something wrong, though. At New Year’s, when we were outside, I --.”

You can’t stop talking, you don’t want to talk, words are coming out of you and they’re stumbling and stupid and so are you, he’s rubbing calm circles on your back and you’re pressing your face to his chest and you should have told him while you were still in control, you --.

“One of the Stations of the Breath is for -- for keeping the spirit in the body, so I -- his *hands*, Thom, I shouldn’t have -- I held them, I kissed his forehead, I didn’t ask him, I didn’t ask you, I know it’s not -- it’s not like we’d never fuck other people, that’s not what makes it -- I touched him because I love him, so much, it’s why I keep taking shifts for looking after him, and I’m -- I’ve wronged you, and I am -- *so* sorry.”

THOM MINOT – You speak, and he holds you; you cry, and he holds you; you breathe, after, and he kisses the top of your head, and holds you.

“You okay now?” You nod. “Okay. I gotta be honest, Jude, for how upset you’ve been? I was kind of hoping you two had at *least* managed a hand job or something.”

YOU – You step back and goggle at him, somehow stifling the full-body hysterical giggle that tries to seize you.

THOM MINOT – “What? He’s cute. *I’d* fuck him, if he were into *me*.”

YOU – “Thom!” You’re dizzy. Drunk. Not from the whiskey: from the relief. “I’m not going to fuck him. We work together. Host almighty.” 

You breathe. “But I do love him. So much it’s… humiliating. I haven’t told him -- don’t worry, I’m not going to. I just….” 

THOM MINOT – He tilts his head toward your room, and you nod, staying quiet until you’ve finished your bedtime routines.

YOU – “Shit, these sheets are freezing. Warm me up?” 

He rolls onto his side and snuggles you, one arm under your head and the other over your ribcage; you kiss his hand and hold it to your chest. “You really don’t mind?”

THOM MINOT – “What, if he stays here? Or that you love him?” His voice is a low rumble that soothes you to your core.  

YOU – “Both, I guess.”

THOM MINOT – “I definitely don’t mind if he stays here. It’ll be nice to see more of you, to be honest. And I… you still love me, right?”

YOU – Reassuringly, you stroke his arm. “To the depths of my lungs.”

THOM MINOT – “And you’re not going to leave me for Jean even though he’s younger and hotter and less… ‘middle-aged Vacholière discovers he’s not special, *Franconigerian hard-body* comes for us all?’”

YOU – “Never.” You rarely tell him -- Thom’s self-conscious about his weight, and even praise makes him uncomfortable -- but you love the way his body has changed over the years. He’s always been strong, and he still is, but time has made him softer. More substantial. It feels *right*, to your body and to your soul. 

THOM MINOT – “Then no, babe, I don’t mind.” 

Through your nightshirt, his fingers wander over your breasts, then around your hardening nipples. “But I still think you two should fuck.”

YOU – Grinning, you fake-smack his hand. “We absolutely should not.” 

You should sleep, now, both of you. It’s more than late; the only light from the window is what’s reflecting from the snow. Still: Thom’s fingers feel so good, and he’s kissing your ear, warm and intimate and breathing like he’s getting hard, and God help you but it’s been weeks and you’re already wet and your clit aches and….

“If Jean and I *did* fuck, though.” You tug up your nightshirt, grab Thom’s hand, and push him between your legs, making you both moan. “Finger me, and I’ll tell you what I’d do with him.”

And he does, and you do, and you sleep better than you have in months, your home a shelter even from the coldest snow.

*  *  *

January–March ’49 

YOU AND YOUR PIECE-OF-SHIT EXCUSE FOR A BRAIN – The year starts with a single lesson, learned at excruciating length: recovery is *boring*.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – One of the Major Crimes Unit psychs refers you to a colleague she trusts who specialises in Sad, and you meet with him a couple times a week. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Most of what he tells you comes down to, “Stop being such an asshole to yourself,” which is easy to understand and hard to do.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – The meds help, a little. They don’t fix you, but they do weaken the caustic nothing where your lungs are supposed to be, which makes it easier to do what the psych says, which makes you feel less like shit, which makes it easier to --.  

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah, yeah, enough. You get it.

YOU – You spend a few weeks living at Jude’s, sleeping on the ill-tempered fold-out couch. She says she invited you “for a change of scene, Jean, you must be so bored,” but you both know it’s so you don’t fucking kill yourself when she’s not looking.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – She wants you to get better. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – So does Harry. So does everyone on the unit. You don’t want to let them down.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – It keeps you doing the right things through the hours, the days when you don’t feel like it.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Plus, even though “change of scene” is a euphemism, it’s not wrong. Thanks to the routines around getting the kids to and from school, the days have a different rhythm here, one that’s more structured and consistent than you’re used to. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – It’s… comforting. So is not being alone -- turns out it’s really nice spending time with people because you live in the same house, not because they’ve come to yours out of pity.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – Even Luc and Armand are entertaining, though most of your interactions baffle at least one of you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You don’t mind kids, but you’re not cut out for parenting. That’s fine: you’re not a parent.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – You admire Jude and Thom for… whatever it is they *get* that you don’t.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – You also admire them for other things. *Wink!*

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Nope, no, none of that. You work with Jude; you’re friends with both her and Thom. Don’t fuck this up -- think about something else.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – How about the *books*? My god! Outside of shops, you’ve never seen so many role-playing games in one place. 

You even get to play them. Wirrâl ’s a great setting, Thom’s a great GM, and the other players -- even Harry -- are surprisingly non-annoying. After much finagling, your party scores an audience with the queen of the faeries, who has an impressive throne and an even more impressive collection of consorts. G-Bevy convinces her that it will be more fun to help your team save the universe than let it succumb to heat death because that would be *the end of chaos*, which would be *boring*. 

SAVOIR FAIRE [Easy: Success] – Also, in a hilarious-slash-painful case of art imitating life, Harry’s character tries to fuck damn near every NPC and fails the roll every time.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Weird shit and all, though, Harry’s *there* for you through the whole boring climb from “basically dead” to “depressed, but functional.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “C-Wing sucks when you’re gone. I can’t think things through if I’m not talking to you. I tried pretending you were at your desk and talking to you anyway, but McCoy said he’d shoot me if I didn’t stop… and let’s face it, he still might. Plus, I’ve got a *great* plan for going after La Madre -- like, you’re going to love it, this is some top-shelf, crazy-brilliant, lieutenant-double-yefreitor-making shit -- but Pryce won’t let me start until you’re back. So c’mon, Jean: come back.” 

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] – Most days, Harry hauls you out of the house and makes you walk: first around the block, then to the precinct gym or around North Jamrock like a bad joke and its worse punchline.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] – He does your laundry. Kind of. 

HARRY DU BOIS – “Your whites are now your, uh, pinks. Sorry.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – He comes over with pizza, with kebabs, with six-packs of shitty beer. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – He plays board games with you, doing mock-serious critiques of the artwork to make you forget that you’re too sad to smile. 

ESPRIT DU CORPS [Easy: Success] – In a surprisingly accurate self-assessment, he takes your Perseus Blacks to the dry cleaners. 

YOU – And then, the precinct and the psych agree, it’s time to work.

HARRY DU BOIS – He walks with you from your apartment and, when you reach your desk and look like you might shit the bed, puts his arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey, Jean, it’s all right.” He leans in close so the rest of the unit won’t hear. “*You’re* all right. We’re gonna do this together, okay?”

YOUR DESK – Sweating nervous balls, you sit, and Harry scoots across your desks to plunk himself in his chair. There’s a card in front of you that says “Welcome Home” in fancy script. Someone -- you suspect Torson -- has added YOU SAD ASSHOLE in block letters. 

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – You read your way through the messages, saving Harry’s scrawl for last.

THE CARD – “Sorry I fucked up your laundry. Don’t worry, we can still be sad crime-fighting buddies when you’re in pink briefs. Love you, partner. Let’s kick some Madre ass. xoxo HDB”

You look up. Harry watches you across your connected desks, eyebrows raised: Ready?  

YOU – Ready. 

“Thanks, shitkid.” 

HARRY DU BOIS – And he beams like you coming back is the fucking Return.

Chapter Text

August ’49 

THE MINOT’S KITCHEN – The windows are open, the curtains closed against the last, late light. On the benchtop, an oscillating fan rattles beside a perspiring metal bucket full of ice.

YOU – The night is, and you are, hot and humid and miserable.

You’re supposed to be playing Wirrâl . Thom’s ready; you and Harry and Jude are ready; Mack and Chester are -- here, in body, which -- close enough. Luc and Armand are even with Thom’s parents until tomorrow, so you won’t have to watch your language or deal with interruptions. 

But you’re not playing. You’re slumped around the table, clutching bottles of beer and glasses of water, staring past each other like sweaty, singlet-clad ghosts.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Man, this week we had the craziest case.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Whoa, hang on: this is supposed to be *fun* time. For *fun*. Which work is, it goes without saying, *not*.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Your brother needs to process, and he cannot do it alone.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “You guys hear about it?”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – You sneak a glance at Jude, who’s studying her beer, and then at Thom, who pulls a quick “here we go” face that makes you want to laugh.  

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – You don’t, though. You don’t want to be a dick.

YOU – “Most of us were there, Chester.”

MACK TORSON – “I wasn’t.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Yeah! Neither was Thom.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – A monologue lurks in the pause that follows. 

THOM MINOT – “Oh, that’s fine, I --.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “See, Vic? I’m *needed*.” 

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – Strap in, Jean. By the time he’s finished, you’ll be sweat-stuck to your chair.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “So I’m covering a shift at the Emergencies Desk, and this call comes in from Frittte --.” 

MACK TORSON – “Which Frittte?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “What? Come on, Mack, it doesn’t -- the one just west of Voyager and Main.” 

HARRY DU BOIS – “Across from Video Revachol.”

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – DANGER.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Yeah, danger -- he never uses four words where forty will do -- but why?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Dora?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – You don’t think it through. You just tap your foot against his, gently, under the table.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Tell your brother you see his pain.

HARRY DU BOIS – He doesn’t say anything -- a small miracle -- but he looks grateful.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Okay, so this call comes in from *the Frittte just west of Voyager and Main*, and the girl on the other end, she’s totally lost it. Like, the way she’s screeching, not even dogs could hear. But I work out that she’s hiding behind the counter because someone busted a motor carriage through the god-damn wall.”

THOM MINOT – “Oh, shit.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “And the driver, he gets out of the MC, right? Like nothing happened. Starts grabbing cigarettes, vodka -- but she says he’s not even taking the *good shit*.”

MACK TORSON – “Man, I love speedfreaks.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – He kind of does.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Because they’re *hardcore* and *balls-to-the-wall* about everything, no matter how mundane or ill-advised.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Oh, wait for it. So the lady I’m working the desk with calls an ambulance, just in case, and I radio Jules so he’ll send out Dick Mullen and his trusty sidekick and ask the nearest patrol officers to kindly get their asses on the scene.”

MACK TORSON – “There’s no way Jules would say ‘asses,’ Chester. Man wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if he had a --.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Mack, how many times are you gonna interrupt me?”

MACK TORSON – “I don’t know. How many times are you gonna be wrong?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “You see what I have to put up with? Dickhead.” 

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – Nah. They fucking love each other.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – Don’t make it sound homo. They’re bros.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Chester says they have a *bröderbund*.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – What’s wrong with sounding homo, though?

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Nothing.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Exactly.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Homos get beat up. You’re not going back to getting beat up.

LOGIC – Who said anything about you?

CHESTER MCLAINE – “*Any*way, turns out Joe and Jude are closest to this particular Frittte, so off they go like a couple of heroes --”

MACK TORSON – “One hero, and one shit-for-brains whose cradle was rocked too close to the wall.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “-- to rescue Screechy Frittte Girl, who I’m still on the line with in case shit goes pear-shaped. And they get there, and -- Jude, you wanna take over?”

JUDIT MINOT – “No, Chester, keep going. You tell it wonderfully.” 

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – She smiles, her hairline a halo of tiny, chaotic flyaways.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – The humidity’s added volume. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – You could stroke her hair smooth, if you were close enough. You could kiss her. She’d taste like --. 

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] – YOU. WORK. WITH. HER. AND. SHE. IS. MARRIED. FUCKING. *STOP*.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “See, Mack? *That’s* how you treat a satellite.” 

He grabs his singlet and uses it to dry his face. “So Jude and Joe waltz into Frittte through the goddamn MC-sized hole in the wall, bricks and glass and blood and plaster everywhere, and Jude just picks her way through like it’s *nothing*. I hang up; job well done, Chester; Jude takes over.”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Challenging: Success] – Hot , Thom mouths at Jude, who demurely smiles at the table.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – You’re fitter than him. You could take him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – In a fight?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – ….

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – *In a fight*, right?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – … You know what? Sure. “In a fight.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Then no. Thom’s as strong as you are, but there’s more of him. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Come on, Jean. This isn’t about *fighting*. This is about you wanting him to pin you down and fuck you into the mattress -- which, incidentally, he could do without breaking a sweat.

HALF LIGHT – What

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – What

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Okay, fine: he’d break a sweat *today*. But that’s a weather thing, not a would-struggle-to-fuck-you thing.

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] – No, it’s just a… what, a metaphor? Or another of those wanker things Harry loves to go on about?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – I don’t know wanker things. Just wank*ing* things. 

HALF LIGHT – Hard same.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – *Very* hard.

HALF LIGHT – *Nice*.

LOGIC – See? You’re a moron, and the mattress thing was just a metaphor. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – What mattress thing?

LOGIC – You’re welcome.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “... by this point, even *Joe* can’t help but notice that the dumb kid’s taken enough speed to see through the pale, and one of his legs is *not okay*. Like, if it weren’t for speed, the man wouldn’t be standing.”

MACK TORSON – “Uh-oh.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Yeah. And Joe’s kind of half-chasing, half-staggering after him through the debris, and Jude’s outside with the clerk and the rubberneck division, and then *these* two assholes roar up in their fancy new MC.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] – Horses are your brothers and sisters: they walk the same roads, work the same grim hours. They have *dignity*. Motor carriages, though….

YOU – “Look: for the record, I hate the fucking MC.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Come on, Jean! It’s *sexy*.”

YOU – “It’s not *sexy*, Harry. It’s loud, and expensive, and it *stinks*.”

MACK TORSON – “Just like you, Tequila!”

HARRY DU BOIS – He flips Mack the bird, but they’re both grinning. “In this weather, buddy? We *all* stink.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Hi, guys. I’m Satellite Officer Chester McLaine. Not sure whether you’ve heard of me, but I’m *in the middle of a fucking story*?”

THOM MINOT – “I know the feeling.”

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Poor guy. He thought he’d be guiding your Wirrâl party through more story tonight.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “So like I was saying, Tequila and J-Vic arrive on the scene like a couple of detective gods.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “*Whoosh!* *Zing!* *Ka-POW!*”  He pairs these sounds with what you’re convinced *he’s* convinced are Sam Bo moves.

YOU – [Hide your face in your hands. Realise your hands and face are disgusting slime factories. Un-hide your face. Curse the humidity, silently.]

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Harry and Jude secure the scene while Vic here stomps in to help Joe. Comes out in ten seconds flat fireman-carrying the driver, who by the way would give anyone else a hernia.”

MACK TORSON – “Yeah, J-Vic!” He high-fives you. 

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Trivial] – He’s sweaty, too. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Blech*.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Not a problem for Vic, though. Plunked his fat ass right in the cage.” 

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Oh, for fuck’s --.

YOU – “It’s not a cage, Chester, it’s a *transport enclosure*.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Sure, sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night. So Mr Transport Enclosure here does his first-aid thing….”

YOU – “Sir, are you with a gang?”

STRUNG-OUT TEEN – “God, do you ask everyone that when they’re bleeding? The fuck is wrong with you?!”

YOU – “I need to know if there are parts of Jamrock where you won’t be safe, okay? I don’t want to take you to the wrong hospital and get your head bashed in with a bedpan because you were too dumb to say something and I was too dumb to ask.” 

STRUNG-OUT TEEN – “I’m not with the besmerties! Now can I have my leg back?”

YOU – “Can you -- sir, I don’t have your leg.”

STRUNG-OUT TEEN – “Don’t be a dick, pig! I need my leg!”

YOU – “Sir, I think you may be in shock. ”

 STRUNG-OUT TEEN – “At least let me back in the MC. I borrowed it, okay, and the guy I borrowed it from has probably like a whole-ass kilo of Preptide in there, and I -- just let me get it?”

YOU – “Sir, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “And then Vic motors away, but the whole drive, this kid is straight-up *howling*. ‘Give me my kilo! Give it back!’ Like, he was louder than the engine. I didn’t know the human voice could do that.”

MACK TORSON – “Anything’s possible for speedfreaks, baby.” 

YOU – “He’s not a *speedfreak*, Mack, he’s a stupid kid who did a stupid thing.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Was he okay?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Yeah, basically. Lost most of that leg, though.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh my God!” She traces a Perikarnassian cross over her chest. 

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Eh. Could’ve been worse.”

JUDIT MINOT – She still looks horrified. “The unit is helping him, right?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Like a sexy, well-oiled machine.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – *Sigh*.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Sorry.” 

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – He’s not even a little sorry.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – But it’s so nice to see him smile -- *really* smile, not that disco clown grimace -- that you can’t bring yourself to be mad. 

HARRY DU BOIS – “We lined up a psych for him and a social worker for his family. Trant negotiated with the MI to get him community service instead of juvie, and G-Bevy covered the whole thing….” 

He trails off, stroking his moustache and watching you with an intensity that would make you nervous if it came from almost anyone else. “I’m putting ‘SIR, I DON’T HAVE YOUR LEG’ on your tombstone, by the way.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – A living, breathing, real-shit-doing Major fucking Crimes Unit: it *works*. We *did* it, Jean.

YOU – “Like I won’t outlive you just to put ‘HERE LIES THE SHITKID’ on yours.”

MACK TORSON – “Not that you two lovebirds aren’t adorable, but it’s hotter than balls in a jockstrap in here. I think the sun’s finally down -- anyone want to walk to the lake with me?”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – *YES*.

YOU – “Sure. If it’s dark enough, I might even swim.” [Stand up.]

PAIN THRESHOLD [Formidable: Success] – FUCK! Your *legs*!!

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Yeah. You stuck to the fucking chair.

*           *           *

Thursday 8 March ’51

PRECINCT 41 – You and your eye-watering headache haul yourselves back to C-Wing, where a couple of junior officers replace ledgers on the righted shelf and Jude stubbornly takes notes, bloody sleeve and all, tilting her head to hold the phone against her shoulder.

YOU – [Settle at your desk, trying to ignore the missing drawer, the vague smell of disinfectant, and the reality that Jude sits next to you. Grab a pen. Open your ledger. Make a start on the Fucking do this now pile while you wait for Jude to finish.]

JUDIT MINOT – “I understand your frustration, sir, and to be honest, I share it. But our unit will be at the Whirling tomorrow -- you have my word.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Recon for Martinaise.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – On her notepad in neat but hurried script: “manager -- garth(? check later, angry) -- didn’t  call. doesn’t know who did. suggests union threats. 57th on scene this am (solo det., please god not another alcoholic) but body still in tree.”

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] – That left arm’s a crime scene. Must be a serious cut.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Work through your pain for those you serve.

JUDIT MINOT – “Absolutely. Thank you, sir, you’ve been very helpful. I appreciate your patience. À demain .”

She hangs up with a long sigh and puts down her pen. “Okay. That was the cafeteria manager of the Whirling-In-Rags -- the hostel where the body is. He’s angry that they’re *still* waiting on us, and I don’t blame him.”

YOU – 

1. “Before, in the break room, when I was -- you said Thom and I are the two people you love most.”
2. “I thought the 57th were already there.”

YOU – [Put down your pen, too.] “I thought the 57th were already there.”

JUDIT MINOT – “They are, sort of. They’ve only sent one officer -- a detective.”

YOU – 

1. “I thought last night was just a sex thing, for you. I didn’t… I didn’t think you loved me back.”
2. “Hermit Cop?”

YOU – “Hermit Cop?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Maybe.” 

She tries to reach for her necklace with her injured arm, but she stops with a wince. “That’s a problem for tomorrow. We could stay at the Whirling while we sort this out, but I doubt we can afford it, and I hate leaving Jamrock… anyway. Did you send Harry home?”

YOU – 

1. “Does Thom -- is that why he called me -- *oh*.”
2. “Yeah. Hopefully he doesn’t stagger into Frittte before he gets there.” [Suggest that she go home, too.]

YOU – “Yeah. Hopefully he doesn’t stagger into Frittte before he gets there.” 

You clear your throat. “Jude, after everything with Harry, I think you should --.” 

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – You were going to say “take the rest of the day off,” even though you -- even though *the unit* really can’t afford to lose her, but she cuts you off with a single raised eyebrow.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – You’re not really cut out for pulling rank. Sorry.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – You can do *self*-control, Jean. That’s about it.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Look how you failed to control your brother.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Also, you keep stroking this guilt boner about sleeping with Jude, about it being *wrong* because you outrank her. But even here at work, where she supposedly has to do what you say? She doesn’t. 

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – Yeah. In fact, she directs *you*. Easily. Like, just now? That was pure eyebrow: she didn’t even need *words*.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – You can think -- and we’re not talking *effortfully*, here, this is off the top of your head -- of at *least* three public toilets you find more intimidating than she finds you.

YOU – 

1. “I am… a fucking idiot. I’m sorry. *So* sorry. I… *fuck*.”
2. “Have you at least been to the lazareth?”

YOU – “Have you at least been to the lazareth?”

JUDIT MINOT – “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – She’s lying.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – No kidding. Look how tense she is, how still she’s trying to keep not just her arm but her entire left side. And that shelf is *heavy* -- you’re looking at a bad cut and contusion, if not a break.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – She needs care. Tell her so.

YOU – 

1. “I love you -- both of you -- and we should… figure this out, because not getting along with you is… let’s talk. *Please*.”
2. [Authority 12: Challenging] “Still -- get Nix to look at it.” 

[Authority 12: Success]

YOU – “Still -- get Nix to look at it.” 

When she doesn’t move, you add a firm, “That’s an order.”

JUDIT MINOT – Her chair squeals as she spins to face you. 

“Hmm. You don’t think ordering me to the lazareth against my will *uses your rank to take advantage of me*, Satellite Officer Vicquemare? Or does that only apply to things I enjoy?”

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – Inside your skull, nauseating pressure spikes. You grimace until it eases from * fuck*, it hurts to it hurts.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – The junior officers listen in, unsure what the problem is but hoping to catch some drama.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Backtrack. Also, you’re an idiot.

YOU – [Press your hand to your head.] “Of course you’re correct, Patrol Officer Minot. My apologies.”

JUDIT MINOT – No answer but the screech of her chair, the lonely scritch of her pen.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – This is ridiculous. Fucking *talk* to her.

VOLITION [Challenging: Failure] – You can’t. You want to -- you physically, painfully *want* to -- but you can’t. 

YOU – 

1. [Clench your jaw. Pick up your pen. Carry on and hope you can un-fuck things later.]
2. [Esprit de Corps 16: Godly] [Entroponetically reach out -- with your sorrow, your longing, your whole self -- to Jude.] 

[Esprit de Corps 16: Success]

YOU – Yeah, so, bad news first: you’ve never managed to do this before, so your technique is *mega* clumsy. Your -- message? Prayer? *Data*, as Trant would call it? -- crashes into Jude’s awareness with all the finesse of Jamrock’s lake-making meteorite.

Now, incredibly, good news: it works. All those things you thought but didn’t say just now -- you tell them to her, earnestly, through this intimate link you share but don’t understand.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – All she does is set down her pen and appear to be lost in thought, but she’s “listening,” you’re sure of it. You can feel her attention, her tenderness.

JUDIT MINOT – She turns to you, cradling her injured arm.

“Actually, Vic, I think you might have been right about the lazareth. Walk me there?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Relief: unadulterated, all-consuming.

YOU – “Of course.”

PRECINCT 41 – You fall into step beside her, your footsteps echoing on the bare wood floors and plaster walls, your headache fading to -- not nothing, exactly, but *okay*.

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – She keeps her voice low, but the effect is bigger than that -- she’s not *just* talking quietly.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – She says your name like it contains worlds.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – To her, it does.

JUDIT MINOT – “How could you not know?”

YOU –

1. “How *could* I have known?”
2. “Because I’m a fucking moron.”
3. “I mean, I *hoped*, but… I was afraid.”

YOU – “I mean, I *hoped*, but… I was afraid.” 

You and Jude nod as a ledger-bearing junior officer scuttles past; nervously, you cough. “I still am.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Mon pauvre cher.

THE LAZARETH WAITING ROOM – Nix’s door is closed; behind it, muffled voices argue. The waiting room chairs are battle-scarred veterans with metal frames and intimidating armrests, but only one’s free.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Oh, oh! *Idea*! 

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Just be sure it doesn’t *look* weird.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – Not a problem. You got this.

YOU – [Gesture to the empty chair.] “You take it, Minot. I’ll take the floor.”

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Gentle curiosity: she can tell you’re up to something.

JUDIT MINOT – “Thanks, Vic.” 

Expectantly, she sits. 

YOU – [Sit on the floor. Fold one knee up to your chest, and lean your head against the side of Jude’s chair.]

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Voilà: two tired cops on a tired day, one bloodied and one consolingly close. Nothing more.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – *Certainly* not the faerie queen and one of her devoted consorts.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – She gets it. You can feel her quiet amusement.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – You won’t be able to repeat your message-sending coup, but you’re communicating just fine: your whole body radiates I’m yours, if you want me to your audience of one .

JUDIT MINOT – Discreetly, she reaches down with her good arm to stroke your hair, then your cheek.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – She wants you, and you’re hers.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] – Almond hand lotion. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Bliss*.

THE LAZARETH – Nix’s door groans on its hinges, and a cranky sergeant storms out just before an even crankier Nix appears.

NIX GOTTLIEB – He scans the room, then points to Jude. “You! Get in here.”

VARIOUS OFFICERS – “Hey, wait!” “The hell?” “We were here first!”

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Any of you bozos got something bleeding that shouldn’t be? Fantastic! You’ll keep. C’mon, Minot. Vicquemare, get back to -- eh? Louder! I’m old! … Oh. Sure, Minot, bring your teddy bear, if he’s that important to you.”

JUDIT MINOT – Tiredly, she smiles as Nix leads you both into the lazareth. 

“You know how it is, Nix. Once they’ve been repaired, you never want to let them go.”

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Are you kidding? I’ve put *all* you chuckleheads back together at least once. If I never saw any of you again, it’d still be too soon.” 

The door grumbles closed, and Jude laughs, and -- incredibly -- you laugh, too.

Chapter Text

31 December ’49

THE MINOT’S KITCHEN – In a move virtually guaranteed to incite Jamrock’s dubious elements into committing major crimes right now, immediately, the entire posse is playing Wirrâl.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – It makes sense, all of you wanting to be together. The intel from your contacts in La Madre has been….

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – High-clearance. Jude and Thom have no idea; Trant and G-Bevy know more than them, less than Mack and Chester, and *way* less than you and Harry.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Who -- of course -- is drinking again and, you’re pretty sure, short-stopping --

RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] – You mean… *snort*-stopping?

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – NOT THE TIME.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – -- at least half the speed you confiscate.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Which means you’re fucking lonely, which makes you scared, which keeps you lonely.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Fuck’s sake! Quit this self-pitying sad-sack shit.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Consider your brother-officers. You are not, are *never*, alone.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Yeah. The others don’t know what you know, but they do sense the danger. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – You’re just the only one who knows its name.

GUILLAUME BEVY – “Hey, J-Vic, you with us?”

YOU – [Blink.] 

GUILLAUME BEVY – He’s raising his eyebrows at you, head tilted, his concern-crinkled face framed by his signature blond waves.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Buzzes from the fridge; flickers from the candles you and Thom helped Jude light; chatter from the boys and the radio in the other room. Beyond the window, chaotic swirls of sparse snow.  

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – To answer his question: no. You were not, in fact, with them.

YOU – 

1. [Volition 20: Impossible] “Our La Madre sources say he’s expanding, setting up another ops centre. This one’s in Martinaise. A *bombed-out church*, G-Bevs. Harry wants us to go in guns blazing, Berdyayeva agrees, and I… look, I tried to convince her it’s a shit-tier plan. But Harry is *Harry*, and I’m just a satellite, so… I was stupid to try. Still: even if this raid goes ‘well,’ it’s going to be a shitshow. I *know* it, Bevy. You’ll hate it. You’ll hate us for doing it. You and your functioning moral compass will exit stage fuck you, which I’ll admire -- truly -- but I won’t follow. I’ll just… commit suicide by Harry, basically. Let him drag us both to hell while he blasts his shithouse I can still fix this! mixtape the whole lunatic way down.”
2. [Host in Heaven, what is *wrong* with you? It’s cold, it’s dark, and you’ve been putting in stupid-long hours: Harry’s in a rough patch, that’s all. He’ll pull himself back together. He always does. And Berdyayeva’s forgotten more about special ops than you’ll ever learn, so the plan can’t be *that* bad. Just say something self-deprecating and move on.]

YOU – You fumble between the couch cushions of your exhausted mind for words that strike the right mix of Ah, you got me and It’s nothing, but you don’t find them in time.

JUDIT MINOT – “Do you hear that?”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Trivial: Success] – You hear… nothing worth noting. Just the usual background noise.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Ah, trouble brewing!”

THOM MINOT – “Yep. Back in a sec.”

YOU – The mystery is quickly resolved: what Thom, Jude and Trant heard and you didn’t was the kids *not* making noise, which they were *not making* because one of them -- Armand insists, loudly, that it was Luc, who in turn insists at even greater volume that it was Armand -- knocked over his glass of sparkling grape juice, thereby depositing said juice into the radio, where the glass had been left despite numerous reminders that We Do Not Leave Our Drinks On The Radio, Ever, Because If We Spill Them, The Radio Will Break. 

Nevertheless, the drink had been left and the radio indeed broken, its shorting out prompting a furious yet silent joint repair effort whose chief outcome was to leave the radio more and differently broken than it had been before the boys tried to fix it.

Two indignant children, one slammed door, and a muffled telling-off later, Thom returns to your side.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Host in Heaven, Jean, this isn’t the fucking Return. He was just in the next room.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Seriously. Are you *trying* to sound like a homo?

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – He must be very important to you.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Yes: he’s your *friend*. That’s all. Pull yourself together.

JUDIT MINOT – “Thanks for handling that, mon poumon . Hopefully the boys can calm down and patch things up.”

THOM MINOT – “They will. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Armand who left the glass, given that he’s almost as lazy as me” -- Jude breaks into a close-lipped smile -- “and Luc and his two dozen elbows that knocked it over, but it doesn’t really matter. The radio, though… not sure what we’re gonna do there. I’ll ask around at work, see if the tech guys know if any fell off the back of a truck.”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – He means “were quietly kept aside despite employer orders to write them off.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Your brothers shift, subtly, as they recall various items -- tools, gym equipment, appliances small and otherwise, tyres, on one memorable occasion an unusually stupid horse -- they may or may not have obtained under similar circumstances.

THOM MINOT – He pulls his chair closer to the table and adjusts some papers behind the screen that guards them from your party’s prying eyes. “Okay, let’s get started before anything else can go wrong. As you’ll recall, last time we played, a dispute between Arden Loud-Grin and his patron left Arden in a fugue state -- and your party dangerously low on coin.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “You’re really not gonna mention my hat?”  

THOM MINOT – He sighs. “Yeah, okay. *As you’ll recall*, while you were caught up in a scuffle with a band of iyskel riders, Arden helped himself to the party’s hard-earned gold and bought himself a ‘premium warlock hat,’ which is a stupid-ass glorified traffic cone that makes him look like a crushed-velvet dildo.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Thank you.”

GUILLAUME BEVY – “Also, it’s cursed.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “It’s not cursed!”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Oh, it’s definitely cursed! Even a, shall we say, *cursory* examination of the artefact reveals --.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “SILENCE, WIZARD.”

THOM MINOT – “Oh my god.” He grimaces. “So, to fill your depleted coffers --.”

MACK TORSON – “What’s a coffer?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Someone who smokes as much as Jean.”

MACK TORSON – “Ha! Nice one.”

YOU – 

1. [Protest! You don’t cough… much.]
2. [They want banter? You’ve got banter! Rib them right back.]
3. [Feel ashamed: that you’re poor but still waste money on smokes; that you’re too weak to stop; that after everything the people at this table have done for you, you still can’t find a reason not to hurt yourself. Sit there like a pile of horseshit.]

YOU – [Feel ashamed: that you’re poor but still waste money on smokes; that you’re too weak to stop; that after everything the people at this table have done for you, you still can’t find a reason not to hurt yourself. Sit there like a pile of horseshit.]

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – “Actually, Chester, the etymologies of cough and coffer are completely divergent! Cough , for example, comes to us from the Oranjese….”

THOM MINOT – In your peripheral vision, you notice him watching you as Trant continues, oblivious. Then he turns to -- you can’t tell. Something behind his screen. 

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] – Probably his hands. 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Sounds like he’s fidgeting with the metal spiral that binds his notebook.

JUDIT MINOT – She watches Thom, her expression reminding you -- you’re not sure why -- of Thom’s, just before.

THOM MINOT – “You done, Trant?”

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – He stops babbling, barely. “Yes, of course!”

DRAMA [Trivial: Success] – A lie, and not a convincing one. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. This is *Trant*. He’s not done talking, and he never will be.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – But he *is* intimidated.

THOM MINOT – “Cool. Next time someone interrupts, they’re volunteering to find out how much I remember from high school wrestling. We clear?”

PERCEPTION (SOUND) [Trivial: Success] – An assortment of mumbled yet sincere Yeah s and For sure s.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – That’s Male-Centric Workplace for Sorry .

THOM MINOT – “Great. *So*, to make some coin, your party accepted a contract from the commander of the local constabulary: ride across the plains until you come to the-cold-that-ends-the-world, put some in a sealed flask, and return it to her. Easy, right?”

THE MINOT’S KITCHEN – The rest of the session is so good -- immersive, mysterious, party-strengthening -- that when the inevitable klaxon howls from the precinct radio in Harry’s Model 40, you aren’t even upset. You just get in the MC and let Harry drive you toward the next catastrophe.

* * *

1 January ’50

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Hey. Loser! This isn’t your bed. Get up.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – Oh, *god*. 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Was that springs? And footsteps? They were moving away from you.

VOLITION – What? Who cares? Get up, and cut the dramatics.

PAIN THRESHOLD – They’re not dramatics. You’re in pain. 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – That’s… definitely footsteps. Getting closer, this time.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Thom?

VOLITION – *Damn* it, Jean, why do you keep --.

LOGIC – No, you’re right. Feel how the mattress dipped? Thom just sat down.

VOLITION – Yeah, good for him, but --.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Wow*, you’ve been drinking.

VOLITION – Oh yeah. 

LOGIC – But you don’t drink.

VOLITION – You sure don’t!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Your meds do the same thing to alcohol that magnifying glasses do to sunlight when asshole kids torch ants.

VOLITION – They sure do!

PAIN THRESHOLD – Your head is agony. You are the ant. The ant is you.

VOLITION – Oh, don’t be silly! Ants are too smart and hard-working to do something this dumb.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – Come on, Jean, quit being a dick to yourself. 

VOLITION – Why? Because you don’t deserve it? Yes, you do. Now quit whining and get up. Thom and Jude have enough problems -- they don’t need your hungover corpse stinking up their living room. 

PAIN THRESHOLD – True, but you’re not going anywhere. Not unless you want to puke.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Failure] – Yeah, about that….

PAIN THRESHOLD – FUCK!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Sorry.

YOU – [Panic. Try to stand. Fail. Nearly cry, first with frustration and then -- when you realise someone is helping you sit up, guiding your limbs like a soft-hearted child with a defective doll -- with gratitude. Puke into the bowl that appears in your lap. Wipe your face with the damp cloth that appears in your hand. Repeat a few times, for luck.] 

THIS BED YOU’VE MADE – Eventually, the bowl is taken away. So is the cloth. You drain an entire glass of room-temperature water before you realise it’s there. It refills. Slower, this time, you drink. White tablets are placed on your upturned palm. They sit bitter in your mouth until you remember to swallow.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] – You wait. Maybe centuries. Maybe minutes. You don’t know what you’re waiting for. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You know last night there was a body. A fifth-floor apartment on Rue Saint-Sébastien. The freight elevator was broken. You were called. 

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Careful.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] – Our partner -- he’s been shot, the distraught caller had told the Emergencies Desk.

HALF LIGHT – *Don’t.*

ESPRIT DE CORPS – It’s a small apartment, how did someone break in without -- I don’t understand .

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – You didn’t understand, either. You followed Harry up five storeys of angular spiral stairs with code-violating handrails and dizzying, too-tight landings, your mind stumbling over and over the caller’s unselfconscious, gut-wrenching Our.

LOGIC – No one broke in. It was a suicide. You could both tell, you and Harry, as soon as you arrived on the scene.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – You handled it. You followed procedure; and delivered the news as gently as you could to the two women holding hands at the kitchen table; and did what Harry asked; and did not dwell on the two near-empty glasses of bubbly on the benchtop or on the third, untouched.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – And then you drank.

LOGIC – Yes. At Jude’s, where the only danger you face is yourself.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Harry, ironically sober, dropped you off and went straight to the precinct to write the report.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Trivial: Success] – Steady, substantial footsteps approach from the kitchen.

THOM MINOT – “Hey, Sad Cop.” He sits beside you with a plate of dry toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, the dodgy fold-out mattress groaning beneath him. “Happy new year. Think you can eat?”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Success] – Yeah. You don’t want to, but you need to.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – That coffee’s fucking *loaded* with milk and sugar.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – He remembers how you drink it when you’re hungover, rare as that is.

YOU – [Eat the toast. Drink the sweet, perfect coffee. Marvel at your newfound ability to open your eyes with only moderate discomfort.]

THOM MINOT – “Better?”

YOU – 

1. “Better, thanks. Where’s everyone else?”
2. “I mean, to be honest, nothing matters, because Harry’s hell-bent on this fucking church raid that’s going to ruin everything and I can’t even talk about it, but -- yeah. Better. Also, I’m in love with your wife.”
3. “Last night….”

YOU – “Better, thanks.” You stretch, slowly, making sure it’s “just” the hangover that hurts. “Where’s everyone else?”

THOM MINOT – “Having breakfast at my parents’. Jude and I thought you could use the sleep.”

YOU – 

1. [Fuck, you’re so *embarrassing*. Apologise.]
2. [Volition 13: Formidable] [Don’t apologise. Just thank him.]
3. “Last night, the victim….”

[Volition 13: Failure]

YOU – “Sorry.”

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Failure] – *Oof.*

THOM MINOT – “What for? The boys were thrilled. They’re probably halfway through their second pieces of cake by now.”

YOU – 

1. “And Jude?”
2. “Last night, the victim -- we get so many suicides -- homos, too, living and dead, so it wasn’t that -- or *only* that -- it’s just….” 

YOU – “And Jude?”

THOM MINOT – “Eh, she’s not really the ‘cake for breakfast’ type. Cigarettes and last night’s bubbly, maybe.” When you still look unhappy, he adds, “Jean, it’s fine. *She’s* fine. Anyway, I don’t know what you and Harry had to deal with last night, but you were obviously upset when you came back. We wanted to help, so Jude said she’d take the boys out in the morning, and I --”

????? – Watched out for you. I kept putting you in the recovery position, and you kept rolling onto your back and telling me it didn’t matter if you died. Which was pretty Harry of you, Jean, so it’s a good thing you’re cute.

THOM MINOT – “-- stuck around and made you toast. It’s not a big deal.” 

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] – Whoa-whoa-whoa. What the fuck was that? 

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Godly: Failure] – Some kind of… entroponetic… data leak?

CONCEPTUALISATION [Formidable: Success] – More like the precinct channel. This one just picks up your *other* posse.

LOGIC [Challenging: Failure] – Wait. What?

THOM MINOT – “Jean?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – *God.* Thom is -- unshowered, and exhausted, and slouched beside you with purple bags under his eyes, dark curls tangled, beard untrimmed, coffee stains down the front of his shitty grey tracksuit -- and you want him. You *want* him. You --.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Smack ass-first into the floor, together, in an operatic swell of squealing metal and brroing- ing coils.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – The fold-out bed: it finally got you.

Chapter Text

CC50

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – The raid… doesn’t go “well.”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – No. It’s a shitshow.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – The unit’s sources were fed bad info, or they played you, or both, but *how* you got fucked didn’t matter. What matters is: you did, and fourteen people died.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – It could have been fewer, if you’d managed to convince Berdyayeva not to include McCoy, but -- yeah. 

LOGIC – And those deaths were for nothing, because the church? It didn’t conceal La Madre’s new *ops centre*. There was no entrance hidden near the stained glass window, no underground cybernetic hub. You kicked down the door to a dusty, empty pile of shit.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – It was clever, picking a symbol as the ambush site. A ruin the city loves too much to relinquish and fears too much to repair.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – The RCM looks, *you* look, like mercenary-grade dickheads for shooting it to pieces. 

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] – Hey, you had help. The darkness overhead concealed a multi-storey nightmare you had no hope of neutralising. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – You watched, horrified and helpless, as the void shredded timber beams and abandoned hymnals and the right hand of a satellite officer on loan from Narcotics.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Even if you’d been able to call in more units, they would never have reached you in time.

HALF LIGHT – So Harry ordered the retreat.

EMPATHY – He didn’t want to. Too much shame; too much denial.

HALF LIGHT – Too much *screaming between “EVERYONE STOP SHOOTING, IT’S NOT TOO LATE”s that the goddamn stained glass window existed specifically to torment him about his ex-not-even-fucking-wife*.

RHETORIC [Godly: Success] – You screamed back, far away from your body; and Harry met your eyes with a clarity that still haunts you, and Harry called the retreat.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Guys on both sides of the shitshow stared at you like they’d just seen you, a pox-scarred nobody, put a bullet through Her Innocence Dolores Dei. 

LOGIC – To be fair, they had. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – You navigated through the shattered glass, and tourniqueted the Narcotics satellite’s mangled arm, and carried him to the mobile lazareth, and went back into the nightmare for Harry. 

HARRY DU BOIS – “Jean, get out, that thing up there is Pale. The abyss! The advance guard of the Adversary! Dora sent it. She’s here, and -- can’t you feel it erasing us? Erasing *me*? It knows my name! I’m the only one who can stop it, so aches for my obliter -- *JEAN*!”

HALF LIGHT – You saw in the headlights of his Model 40 the dark bloom where he’d pissed his pants, which didn’t concern you, and the darker one where blood was racing from someplace beneath his patrol cloak, which did.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – His legs gave out, so you laid him down in the snow-capped reeds and pressed your hands to the hole you found in his side.

HARRY DU BOIS – “No, no, stop, you need -- Jean. *Stop*. Get Nix.”

YOU – “Okay, shitkid, I’ll just *take the pressure off your open wound* and convince Nix he should stop doing triage to come over here and pronounce you dead. That’s very fucking helpful, thank you.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “No. Not dead, YOU!”

RHETORIC – Having made this not at *all* useless announcement, Harry fell silent.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – His legs twitched; his eyelids fluttered over his suddenly blank stare.

LOGIC – Absence seizure. Perfect.

HALF LIGHT – Ice creaked, low and mournful, along the coast as a wail from the church spiked grief through your solar plexus and down your spine. 

CONCEPTUALISATION – Harry was bleeding, still, because you were so cold and no better, no better loved, than the overhead thing in the dark --.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Ah, holy -- Vic! Come on, you need the lazareth.  . . .  Yeah, I see it. Looks like he caught one of those splinters and then checked out. Cut’s almost as ugly as him, but I can stitch it right up, promise. But you gotta -- ah, shit. Shit-shit-*shit*. Why’s it always me who gets stuck hauling you *lift heavy, die young* sons of bitches? Not that I mind being crushed like a break room cockroach, but there’s a time and a -- *oof*. Mack! Over here!”

LOGIC – A lot of that blood you were so worried about? That was yours. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Heroic: Success] – You’d been shot. You just hadn’t noticed.

* * *

ANOTHER GODDAMN RECOVERY – The bullet passed through your upper arm, missing bone and un-making flesh. You aren’t supposed to move much or lift anything.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – But you do. You work. You work out. You don’t stop, even though you tear your stitches open again, and again, and again.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Legendary: Success] – Hurts like a motherfucker, but you can take it.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – You can also take speed! That’d make it easier to think through the pain.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – What, so you can be as much of a dickhead as Harry? No. You’re the last line of defence against his bouts of aggression, and he’s been having more of them since the raid went tits-up. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. No booze, no speed, no *party pants*: in other words, no riding the Shitkid Bus. You’re a fucking professional. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – You’re fucking sad is what you are, but if you *want* to be a loser and a clock puncher, fine.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – After a week of repairing your stitches, Nix decides you’ve wasted enough of his time and puts you in a mobility-killing sling you can’t put on or take off without help.

MACK TORSON – “Oh geez, Vic, that’s *really* tragic. Like, the cop version of the Cone of Shame. And you’re a rightie, aren’t you? *Oof*. Question for you, Harry, and be honest: has he tried to sweet-talk you into jerking him off?”

YOU – “Mack, I know *hetero-sexual life partners* is too many syllables for you to remember, but you could at least *try*.”

MACK TORSON – “Huh? Can’t hear you on account of this concussion I got falling on the ice when I was helping this *total retard* to the lazareth and he kept trying to run the other away all, ‘No, Mack, my partner’s having an *episode*, his brain’s more fucked than his cum sock, let me go back and kiss him better.’ Knocked me right over.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Don’t listen to him, Jean. I got your back -- I mean, front. No sweet-talking required. You know that, right?”

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – He’s playing it for laughs, knowing Mack doesn’t think he means it -- but he does, and he knows *you* know.

MACK TORSON – “Haha, oh man, that’s some funny shit. Classic Tequila!”

YOU – “Yeah, so funny. Male workplace laughs at their circle-jerking finest.”

MACK TORSON – “Sounds like *some*one needs a handy!”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – You . . . kind of wouldn’t mind. It’d be nice to feel something nice.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – But you don’t follow it up. Just because you’re not in love with Harry doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean anything to you, but it wouldn’t mean anything to him, and -- yeah.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – Even you can only take so much heartache.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Thank god for Judit, who asks how your arm feels (bad), how you feel (worse), and -- not at work, she’s not stupid -- what the absolute hell happened in that church (annihilation).

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] – Over time, over laundry and groceries and kebabs and cigarettes, during and after the Sling of Shame: you tell her everything.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – For the record, she doesn’t have the security clearance for that; even if she did, this is information you’re forbidden to disclose. These are repeat breaches you’re committing, officer.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – You have betrayed your brothers.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Oh, *fuck* that. Jude’s not only one of you, she’s the best of you. You haven’t betrayed shit. 

LOGIC – And G-Bevy? He’s not one of you. Can you justify what you told *him*? What you *keep* telling him?

HALF LIGHT – You haven’t. Betrayed. *Shit*.

* * *

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – It’s not even a year. It’s fragments that surround you like the precinct’s domed ceiling, like stained glass bullet-shattered on the church floor: Harry letting himself into your apartment, waking you up fumbling for his key at midnight, at two, at half-past three. Your desk, heavy with unfinished paperwork. Berdyayeva’s office. Karaoke and tequila sunrises by the pitcher at a sticky-floored shithole in Lakeside. 

HARRY DU BOIS – “No one here wants to party with me. But you know what? That’s great! Dora wanted to party, and where did that get me? Fucked! I’m *done* being fucked.”

YOU – “I thought not being fucked was the problem.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “No, the problem was bitches. No bitches, no problems!”

YOU – “You don’t think sitting here saying ‘the problem was bitches’ has *anything to do* with no one wanting to party with you?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “NO PROBLEMS!”

YOU – “Fuck off, shitkid, you *are* problems.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Sounds like someone’s got too many bitches.”

YOU – “Yeah. That’s what’s wrong with me. Thank you for working it out, Harry. You’re a real-life super-cop.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “Hey, you know what tonight needs? MORE MAJOR CRIMES. Back in a minute -- I’m gonna borrow the phone.”

THE UNIT – You end up taking over the place, less by design and more as a byproduct of collective momentum. The teachers swarm the karaoke machine almost on sight. An increasingly drunk Harry sidles up to the only one who doesn’t -- the wild-ass grandma -- and tries to convince her that he’s had a *special connection* with the pale ever since he pissed himself and passed out by the church.

WILD-ASS GRANDMA – “Well, lots of folks wet their pants and black out once in a while -- I know *I* used to, before my liver shat the bed -- but I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it having anything to do with the pale. But you know what, Harrier? There’s a lot we don’t know about entroponetics, and what we *do* know is about as weird as we can imagine. So who knows: maybe you *do* have a special connection with it! Now, that’s something I’d like to hear more about, but not right this moment. I’ve promised this lovely young lady here that I’ll teach her how to make some of my special rope harnesses; I’ve been working the kinks out of them, so to speak, since -- gosh, probably since before you were born! So you hold that thought, young man, and we’ll come back to it later.” 

TRANT HEIDELSTAM – He practically teleports to the now-empty seat at Harry’s side, and the two of them disappear into a spirited debate over “whether the pale exhibits markers of agency -- but first, of course, we must define both the necessary *and* sufficient conditions of the agentic!” 

THE BAR – The wild-ass grandma’s “lovely young lady” turns out to be Judit, who breaks into a rueful smile every time she makes a mistake.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Meanwhile, the joint-smoking counselor -- who volunteered to be their, as the wild-ass grandma brightly put it, “test bottom” -- kneels in front of them looking . . . about like you feel.

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – Rugby on the radio while you and Harry drink beer on his scratchy, grubby couch. Rubble pattering down on you and G-Bevy as you smoke under the 8/81. Paperwork you haven’t finished piled on top of other, older paperwork you haven’t finished either. Jude’s fingers, picked bloody. 

JUDIT MINOT – “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s -- Thom’s quit his job, *again*. He used to do this all the time, quit because they ‘weren’t *challenging* him’ or ‘the super’s a dick’ or, Host and all of Heaven help me, ‘I just want to work on my game.’ And he says money always works out, but it only ‘works out’ because I *stay in this fucking job* and actually take shifts, all the time, not *when I feel like it*. I just -- I’m so *mad*, Jean. He’s half a husband and half an overgrown teenager who can be just as much work as the boys. At least now he only does this if something’s *seriously* bothering him, but I don’t know what it is. Which means that on top of everything else, I’m waiting around like a fucking idiot to find out what he’s -- oh, God. I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Wait. The thing that’s wrong -- is she talking about New Year’s?

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – She doesn’t know, so neither do you. Anyway, nothing happened.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Failure] – Nothing physical, no; nothing spoken. But you know what you felt, and what you feel, and -- yeah. You’re garbage.

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – Your typewriter glowing beneath your green-shaded lamp, the sounds of your own keyboard drowned in the barrage from Harry’s desk. Thom and Jude’s kitchen on a damp spring night when the district smells like turned earth and your party freezes to death with the whole broken, unsaveable world. Berdyayeva’s office, again. Your new party for Wirrâl, not Untethered so you maybe don’t get your fucking heart broken this *one* time. Your locker and the speed you hide in it just in case. Pryce’s office. Your bare feet on cool sand and smooth stone as you walk along the lake with the Minots. 

JUDE AND THOM MINOT – They fall behind, holding hands and leaning close as they talk in low, searching tones. 

LUC AND ARMAND MINOT – Luc is somehow twelve, which is unbelievable, and looks like a stick insect that’s very earnest and also blind without its glasses; Armand has the heft of a sergeant and the heart of someone far too kind to become one. They both stay with you, if only so they can drown you in questions.

THE BOYS – “Does your gun do anything cool?” “Wait, so you touch dead bodies on *purpose*? Why?!” “What happens if you shoot someone and you shouldn’t have, or they shoot you back?” “Where’s Harry? Isn’t he your best friend?” “Did you get all those scars because you did too many fights?” “*Whoa*, that’s super gross and SO COOL! Did it hurt?” “Can you bring a horse next time?” “Does Maman have scars like that, too?” “Bring *two* horses!”

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] – They convince you, both because of and despite their best efforts, to buy them an ice cream each from a rickety wooden stall that looks at least as old and beat-to-shit as you.

THE BOYS – “Papà says we don’t really have money for ice cream, so we have to share.” “That’s if we get any at *all*. I hate being poor.” “Jean’s poor too. Aren’t you, Jean?” “Host in Heaven, Luc, you can’t ask that! Anyway, he’s just one person, and that doesn’t cost as much as four people.” “Oh my *god*, Armand, why are you so *retarded*?”

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – Paperwork, more than you ever get to, each page a symbol of the justice you fail to provide. Your locker and the speed you have just so Harry doesn’t. Harry missing work, crying on your couch, puking and pissing in your bed and his. Berdyayeva’s office. Your ledger bulging with cases; your desk sagging under the weight of what you fail to do. Your locker and the speed you have because the city needs you, because Harry needs you, because Harry isn’t here and you have too much to do, because the MI doesn’t do enough but it won’t do shit without the right godforsaken forms in the right godforsaken files and speed lets you stop being the reason things don’t fucking work, because you can finally see your goddamn desk, because you think better with it than without it, because Sober You wants to rip the head off every dense motherfucker who tries your --.

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] – You have it *because you’re a dumbass who chose chemical dependency*. You’re not special.

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – You scream at and steal from a drunk who’s set himself up in front of a Frittte. 

VOLITION – Way to punch down, asshole.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – And punch *petty*. You took a bottle of mustard from the guy, for fuck’s sake, and you did it just to piss him off because he’d pissed *you* off. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] – You don’t even *like* mustard.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Jude, who saw the whole thing, comes by your desk that night and touches your wrist and --

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean, when I was on patrol . . . I saw you, but you didn’t speak, or listen, or *care* like you. The past couple of months, you’ve been . . . what I’m starting to see from you, I don’t want around my children or in my home. Do you understand me? I’m -- God, why does *some*thing always have to be fucked?!  . . .  Sorry. I’m sorry. That wasn’t -- I’m *scared*, Jean. I miss you, and I miss trusting you, and -- if I can help you come back, let me? Please?”

EMPATHY – -- and without telling you that you have to fucking stop tells you that *you have to fucking stop*, so you do.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Formidable: Success] – You sleep for two days, and you’re extra bitchy for weeks, but compared to how it felt to make Jude cry? Withdrawal’s not -- it’s nothing. It’s fine.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Yeah. People get through it all the time. 

VOLITION – Again: you’re not special. You’re just an ugly guy who snorted too much speed for a while and fucked up your now-even-uglier nose. Get back to work.

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – You do. You spend hours in Harry’s apartment, letting him talk at you about where the raid went wrong (he was too hands-off, clearly) and how to make it right (pretend to be corrupt, get Madre to make him his peone, and “blow shit up from the inside, Jean!”). 

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – Host almighty, this has farce written all over it.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – You’re relieved when Berdyayeva refuses, telling him he’s “one of those geniuses who are also morons -- and speaking of, Du Bois, while I’ve got you here? I’ve been trying to convince Pryce to offer you another captaincy, but the drinking doesn’t help.”

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – You smoke with Harry against the boot of his MC, your crossed arms over your chest. You smoke with G-Bevy at the Paliseum bar. You smoke with Jude on her patio; Thom sits with you, a book in one hand and a beer in the other, and you orbit them and you are nothing.

PRECINCT 41 – Harry gets his promotion. (“*Our* promotion!”) He turns down the captaincy, making him Lieutenant-double-yefreitor Du Bois. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – You, the cretin who keeps the wheels on the unit’s figurative MC while its very clever, very troubled commander hits the gas and tries to drive the damn thing off a bridge, are still Satellite Officer Who-Gives-A-Shit. 

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – You’re also still here. Still sober, in the ways that count. It’s something.

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – You freeze and are nothing. You thaw at painful intervals and love and love and it is useless you are nothing.

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Vicquemare, Minot tells me your meds aren’t working. She’s right, by the looks of you, but you respond even less to everything else we’ve tried, so don’t stop taking what you have unless you want to be *extra* suicidal. I can put you in touch with a different psych, if you want. No? You trying to go sooner rather than later? Your call, pal. Next!”

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – When December finally comes and Berdyayeva hauls you into her office, *again*, you assume you’ll need to defend Harry. You’re not prepared when she says she’s pulling Mac and Chester off the unit because they won’t tell Harry “no” -- and assigning Jude to Major Crimes because she will.

ALEKSANDRA BERDYAYEVA – “Don’t look at me like that, Vic. You know he’s becoming a problem. You know you enable him. Neither one of you is going to change, so I’m changing things for you. I’ll get Minot a dispensation so she can carry even though she’s below rank.  . . .  No, sit down, I’m not done with you.  . . .  I know you haven’t trusted me since the raid. I understand why -- I do. But you’re not the only one who can’t talk about all the things you know, okay? And some of us . . . we actually keep our mouths shut. Might be worth keeping that in mind.”

THE WORST FUCKING YEAR – In retrospect, it’s no surprise you give up in ’51. The surprise is that you live that long.

Chapter Text

1 January ’51

JAMROCK NORTH – Morning looms, and the district clings hard to the night. Packs of bewildered partiers too wasted to fight or fuck stagger along roads ankle-deep in slush, not reacting to sullen bursts of firearms and fireworks.

YOUR BEDROOM – Not that you see them. Your window’s fogged to shit. 

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – The radiator’s doing its rattling best, but even under the blankets, you’re cold.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – Whatever. At least you’re sober.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Failure] – You didn’t do anything to celebrate the new year, possibly because this one was a flaming bag of dog shit and possibly because no one you wanted to spend time with was free. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Judit and Thom both had night shifts; Harry tried to talk you into going to Boogie Street with him “because I love you, partner, and also because my tie says you can’t get pussy if you don’t GET YOUR PARTY ON!”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Failure] – You don’t want to party. You don’t want to *get pussy*, either.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Why would you? The term’s a complete boner-melter.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Not that you’re in any danger of having a boner to melt.

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – Yeah. You’re starting the year like the loser you are: at home, in bed, *alone*.

YOUR FRONT DOOR – Someone knocks.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Possibly a drunk neighbour; possibly Harry.

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – [Do nothing.]

YOUR FRONT DOOR – Someone knocks, harder.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – Not to stress you out, but you’re not picking up noises that match “neighbour who’s got the wrong door.”

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – You’re not stressed. You’d have to *give a shit* to be stressed.

YOUR FRONT DOOR – Someone jostles the handle, grunts in frustration, and abandons knocks in favour of open-palm strikes.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Oh, goddamn it!

YOU – “Oh, goddamn it! If you’re too drunk to find your keys, get the spare -- and if you’re too drunk to do *that*, shitkid, then go home.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Harry’s not here! Let us in!” Then, quietly: “You were right.”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – “Right?” About what?

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – And why’s he talking to Mack like he would a frightened horse?

VOLITION [Easy: Failure] – Doesn’t matter.

YOU – 

1. [Be rude.]
2. [Volition 12: Challenging] [Be polite.]

YOU – “Not happening, guys.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Vic, *seriously*.”

YOU – 

1. [Be rude.]
2. [Volition 12: Challenging] [Be polite.]

YOU – “Oh, I’m *completely* serious. I’m going back to sleep. Sure, I’d be more excited if I never had to wake up, but who knows? This could be my night! Have to think positive, right?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “You don’t *sleep*, you sad sack of shit.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – Damn.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Figures we’d catch him in dickhead mode just when we need Officer Gives-A-Shit. Do you know where he keeps the spare key?”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – That soft-touch, spooked-horse voice again. Also, how long have they been calling you “Officer Gives-A-Shit?” 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Failure] – In this way as in others, your brothers are mysteries to you. 

YOU – 

1. [Be rude.]
2. [Volition 12: Challenging] [Be polite.]

YOU – “Wow, Mack, this might be the longest you’ve ever let Chester talk!” Then, because you don’t want to be a complete tool: “Come on, guys, it’s too late. Or early, or -- whatever. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” 

CHESTER MCLAINE – “No, you complete tool, Jude needs you *now*.” 

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – SHIT.

REACTION SPEED [Challenging: Success] – You’re already going.

INTERFACING [Easy: Failure] – Nerves get the better of you; the locks take you twice as long as they should.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “-- keeps puking her guts out on account of she just watched Joe get his fucking head kicked in, which I was KIND OF HOPING I WOULDN’T HAVE TO YELL THROUGH THE GODDAMN DOOR.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Oh, holy shit.

YOU – [Open the goddamn door. Don’t object when Chester throws a fuck-you shoulder on his way in.] 

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Yeah. You had that coming. Where’s Jude?

YOU – [Check the corridor.]

JUDIT MINOT – She leans against the opposite wall, smoking, a grey wool blanket over her shoulders. 

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] – Full-body shakes. Bruises around her wrists. Smells of urine and vomit and, fainter, faeces. Stains on her shirt: dark droplets, most of them small.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Challenging: Success] – Blood spatter. If she was standing when it hit, the source was on or near the floor. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Joe.

JUDIT MINOT – She doesn’t look at you. “I’m fine.”

DRAMA [Trivial: Success] – No. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Adrenaline’s making her shake, but it’s also keeping her upright and talking to you. 

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Expect her to crash. 

YOU – 

1. [Ask her what she needs.]
2. [Point out, gently, that she’s not fucking *fine*.]

YOU – “Judit --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m *fine*, but I just -- I can’t go home.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – She means she doesn't want to risk the boys seeing her like this.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – This would be a great time to pull your head out of your ass and find out what she needs through some shit-hot new forensic technique like, I don’t know, *asking her*.

YOU – “Understood. What do you need?”

JUDIT MINOT – She drops her cigarette -- not on purpose, you don’t think -- and for a long moment watches it burn out. “Let me use your shower?”

YOU – “Of course.”

JUDIT MINOT – “And -- *gkgh*.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Oh god.

YOU – [Move closer to hold her hair back.]

JUDIT MINOT – With a frantic, animal sound, she jerks away.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – That was a serious fuck-up. She didn’t hit you, but she wanted to.

YOU – [Step back as bile lands on her clothes, the blanket, her hair. Refuse to let self-loathing distract you from monitoring her.]

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – No attempt to clean her face, no focus to her gaze: she’s about to collapse. Get her inside.

YOU –

1. [Tell her to come in.]
2. [Suggest that she come in.]
3. [You really messed up. Start there.]

YOU – “I’m so sorry.”

JUDIT MINOT – “It’s okay.” 

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – She means it; still, she appreciates the apology.

JUDIT MINOT – “Can I come in?”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – See? You don’t need to tell her anything. You just need to be here.

YOU – [Move aside so she can walk past. Lock up behind her.]

JUDIT MINOT – She goes into the bathroom and shuts the door.

YOUR APARTMENT – Chester made instant coffee; you smell it before you see the mug waiting for you by the ashtray.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – Chester’s already drained his. 

CHESTER MCLAINE – He’s sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Worn out from a horrible night -- he really didn’t need you acting out on top of everything else.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “*Fuck*, man.” Wiping his eyes, he sits up.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – You owe your brother an apology.

YOU – 

1. [Apologise.]
2. [Ask him what happened.]

YOU – [Pick up your coffee and sip it as you sit beside him.] “Sorry. I was an asshole.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “You think?!” 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Again: he still appreciates the apology.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Two consecutive thunks from the bathroom.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Jude taking off her shoes.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “God. She and Joe got called out to Villalobos -- not a Major Crimes thing, just a wellness check.” He grimaces. “I don’t know what it *actually* was, besides an ambush -- but when she radioed about Joe, Pryce and Berdyayeva took over. Whole building’s locked down.”

HALF LIGHT  [Easy: Success] – Holy shit, do they *want* a civil war?

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Of course not. Don’t catastrophise.

YOU – 

1. “That’s… not good. Villalobos already hates us, and really, why wouldn’t they? No one will talk, so locking them down will help about as much as turning on a fan when there’s incoming shit -- what’s the point?”
2. “Please tell me someone *good* did first aid?”

YOU – [Drink more coffee.] “Please tell me someone *good* did first aid?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Yeah, Berdyayeva. Said to stay on top of anti-inflammatories for her wrists -- nothing’s broken, but they’re bruised to hell. Ice them twenty minutes twice a day, if she can tolerate it.” 

VISUAL CALCULUS [Challenging: Success] – From what you saw, it’s unlikely a secondary object was involved. Those marks came from somebody’s hands.

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] – The fact hits you like a caustic brick.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Knocking pipes clatter and air squeals from the taps: Jude’s having a shower.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “The other thing was, she said Jude wouldn’t stop trying to help him, help -- *Joe*, when -- so they grabbed her hair and -- yeah. Yanked her back pretty hard.” 

EMPATHY [Impossible: Failure] – This is not bearable.

ENDURANCE [Godly: Success] – But you don’t know how to stop trying to bear it. I’m sorry.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Berdyayeva said we should monitor for swelling under the scalp and tell everyone who takes a shift not to do anything with her hair.”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Like hold it back mid-puke .

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Look, you know now, okay? Keep moving.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – That’s… surprisingly self-compassionate.

VOLITION – You can’t help her if you’re busy jerking off to how much you suck.

EMPATHY – *There* he is.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “What else… Jules was able to get through to Thom at work. Said Jude was hurt but okay -- look, you know what he meant -- and planned to crash here tonight.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – She’s more than welcome, but she’s not going to be okay by morning, either.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – Her turn for another goddamn recovery. She’ll need help. So will Thom.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – A sudden, visceral ache floods the space inside you; your organs feel like something is pushing them apart.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Loves too complex to face and too pervasive to ignore.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Formidable: Success] – Like pale in and around isolas.

CHESTER MCLAINE – He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, his red-rimmed eyes barely open.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – He needs to rest. Tell him so.

YOU – “Understood, Chester. Thank you for… for everything. Go get some sleep, okay?”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Hey, I’ll go, but I didn’t do shit.” 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – I did what we all do, for the ones we trust.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – That includes you.

CHESTER MCLAINE – He stands, speaking loud enough to be heard through the bathroom door. 

“Jude, I’m heading out. If you need anything, or if dickhead here gets on your nerves, you let me know. I’ll bring you the good shit from the med bay safe -- Nix doesn’t think I have a key.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I’ll be fine.” Her voice bounces off the tiles, sounding at once flat and aethereal. “Thanks, Chester.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Suit yourself. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – You won’t be fine -- but you won’t be alone, either.

CHESTER MCLAINE – He punches your shoulder just hard enough to let you know he’s still mad. “’Night, Vic.” 

Then, lower: “She trusts you. *Really* trusts you, okay?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] –

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m not going. You can’t -- I can’t go home yet.”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “Minot, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. Truly.” 

JUDIT MINOT – “I do want to go home. But not -- not like this.” Then, calmly: “Not while his soul is still here.”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “… It’s been a terrible night.” He sighed. “When you’re ready, I’ll find someone to take you to --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “*Shh*. He needs help, and I can’t hear him if you talk.” An excruciating pause; the rise and fall of whispered prayer. “… que le gris transforme ses blessures; que son âme refuse le baume de l’oubli donc l’esprit mondial vivrait toujours, serait sanctifié toujours. … Ça y est.”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “All right.” Notebook pages crinkled. “In case Vicquemare isn’t home, where else --?”

JUDIT MINOT – “ Il est là, j’suis certain. Je vous l’ai déjà dit.”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “Minot, I’m afraid my Suresne isn’t….”

JUDIT MINOT – “His window -- there’s too much fog. Blankets, but they’re no good. He’s so cold, mon pauvre cher, he needs -- *I* need -- I can’t reach him. Why -- I can’t reach *any*body? God. Is this what it’s always like for him?!”

PTOLEMY PRYCE – “… I’m not surprised you’re so focused on others, Minot, even now, but let’s look after you. Is it all right if I ask McLaine to drive you to Vicquemare’s? Okay -- looks like he heard us. That’s good, then -- that’s what we’ll do. Thanks, McLaine. Try to rest now, Minot, if you can. … Alex, what did you give her? She’s off with the goddamn faeries.”

ALEXANDRA BERDYAYEVA – “Just anti-inflammatories and half a drouamine. It’s not that, Tol, it’s her -- delusions of prophecy? Entroponetic TASD? I don’t know, but somehow, she’s a level-headed cop who holds her own in Major Crimes and a fucked-up Ecclesiast who acts like the Innocence of *the goddamn faeries*.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “She wouldn’t even leave the scene til Pryce promised I’d bring her here.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – So don’t fuck this up.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “So --.”

YOU – “So *don’t fuck this up*. I get it, I’m garbage, so -- yeah, that’s fair.”

CHESTER MCLAINE – “No, dumbass, so quit acting like you don’t matter .”

LOGIC [Trivial: Failure] – Nope. You’ve got nothing. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – If your brain were audible, it would sound like the bathroom’s struggling pipes.

CHESTER MCLAINE – “Happy New Year, dipshit.”

YOUR APARTMENT – And then he’s gone. You lock up after him, the shower still running as you stare like a crétin at the ashtray, at the coffee cups seeping rings into the already scarred table.

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean?”

YOU – [Hover outside the bathroom like the satellite you are.] “Right here, Judit. What do you need?”

JUDIT MINOT – “My hands won’t -- I can’t get the buttons.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Oh god, she’s not even in the shower?

JUDIT MINOT – “Can you come in?”

YOU – 

1. [Go in. Feels weird -- but she needs you, and she asked.]
2. [She did ask, yeah, but you’re still skittish about overstepping. See if you should figure out something else.] 

YOU – “Are you sure you don’t want me to see if Thom or --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I want to *not sit here in my own shit wondering if any of Joe’s brain is stuck to my shirt*, so yes, Jean, I’m sure, could you *please* just get me out of these fucking clothes.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Fast-paced, shaky speech toward the high end of her range.

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] – She’s gone. Frontal lobe offline; distress threshold exceeded. Also, unlike you, she’s not used to losing her shit, so she’s got that to tolerate on top of… everything else.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – It must be terrifying.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Yeah, and she chose you to help her through it, so quit acting like you don’t matter.

YOU – [Go in. Help Jude undress, and wash herself, and put on one of your tracksuits. Get her more anti-inflammatories. Offer to ice her wrists; when she says Don’t you fucking dare, say Okay. Tell her she can have your bed -- the sheets are half decent, thank God -- and you’ll sleep on the couch. When she reaches for you and says Stay, stay. Join her under the covers. Hold still while she finds a way to nestle you that doesn’t hurt; let her guide your arms around her. Ache at her warmth. Watch the fogged-up window turn from black to purple, from pink to orange. When daylight glows through, drift off, Judit still asleep at your side.]

*

JUDE AND THOM’S HOUSE – For the next two weeks, it’s the gravitational centre of your orbit. You coordinate who’s helping Jude when, and work, and wash dishes, and work, and make sure the boys get to school, and try not to worry about what Harry’s doing to your apartment when he’s not here and you’re not there, and work, and do the laundry -- dear God, the *laundry*, and make sure the boys get *back* from school, and get through Joe’s funeral without punching any of the assholes who ignore Jude’s cues to stay out of her fucking space, and take half a day to un-fuck the zone of ecological shitkid catastrophe that’s now your apartment, and work, and -- yeah.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – It’s a lot.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – You know what would help you keep up?

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – You know what would *cost you the trust of the woman you love, who by the way is already hurting*?

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Yeah. No drugs. No booze. Smoke all the cigarettes you want, but don’t touch any of the other shit.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – It’s fine. You’ve got this.

JUDE AND THOM’S HOUSE – You spend the first night on their couch, which -- unlike its predecessor -- is neither a death trap (great) nor a sofa-bed (not so great). Thom watches you grimace your way through the next morning and declares you too old for “this sleeping-on-the couch shit.”

THOM MINOT – “Just bunk with us. Our bed’s plenty big -- it has to be, with my fat ass. And no need to worry about your virtue, Sad Cop… we’re too tired to get handsy with each other, much less try to rope in someone else.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – Unfortunately, he means it. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Still: even fully clothed; even through Thom’s felony-grade snoring; even when you get stuck in the middle and -- bizarre, novel, unthinkable in winter -- have to contort your way out of bed because you’re *too warm*? You fucking love sleeping with them. 

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – It’s the intimacy. Sex is great, sure --

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Face it, Jean, it’s been so long that your opinion on sex is academic at this point.

EMPATHY – -- but this companionate life-sharing shit is… it’s so different with people who don’t want to get worse.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – It’s not “just” that they’re not gun-waving, suicide-invoking alcoholics. It’s… you don’t take care of them. You take care of each other.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – You trade backrubs with Thom. They don’t last long -- neither of you ever has much time -- but they still help.

EMPATHY – Meanwhile, Judit claims you and Thom spoil her because you include her even though she can’t reciprocate.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Thom says I don’t spoil you, babe, I love you and you say Judit, for fuck’s sake and you don’t care, anymore, if she knows they mean the same thing.

????? – Stay.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Host in Heaven, Vicquemare, quit this self-deluding shit: you three are not *together*. You’re *temporarily* helping this *couple* because they’re your posse and they need help. That’s all. Even if you didn’t work with Jude, you couldn’t stay, because they wouldn’t ask you to, because they don’t love you back.  

LOGIC – You’re just… you’re not even gonna *try* to work out what’s happening when that channel --?

VOLITION – Nope. Soon you’ll move back to your shitty, lonely apartment and wake up alone, or with Harry, or with Harry and his continence failure du jour. Don’t pretend another life is possible for you.

LOGIC – Fine: onward. Physically, Jude’s healing fast. Emotionally, she’s….

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Healing well, which at this point in the process involves a lot of crying. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – And sleep. So much sleep.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – When she’s awake, she’s never alone unless she wants to be. Your fellow officers, civilians from the unit, her family, Thom’s family, the kids’ friends and their parents, tiny old church ladies clutching casserole dishes wider than they are: so many people care about her. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Way more than have ever cared about you.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Well, yeah. You suck. Even the boys’ friends think so. And -- lucky you! -- you get to hear all about it because kids, who are almost as dumb as cops, act like anyone who can’t see them *also* can’t hear them.

THE BOYS AND THEIR FRIENDS – “Your other dad is way cooler. This one looks like he’s gonna cry.” “Jean’s not my dad, he’s my mum’s boyfriend.” “No he’s not! Maman just works with him. He’s our *papá’s* boyfriend.” “Parents don’t have *boyfriends*, idiot.” “Wait, your dad’s a homo?” “Your *mum’s* a homo.” “Dude, you know my mums are homos. Don’t be a dick.” “… Oh yeah.”

JUDE AND THOM’S HOUSE – Not even this brain-damage-inducing chorus, though, can change the fact that you don’t want to leave.

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – But you need to. Joe died two weeks ago; Jude’s out of bed more and crying less; Harry’s getting weirdly violent, even around civilians. Berdyayeva knows he’s on a slow-mo suicide mission and wants you to *do something*, so it’s time for you to stop pretending, Jean.

YOUR APARTMENT – You wake up cold. Judit isn’t here, and Thom isn’t either. Harry yells from the bathroom that he’s used up all the hot water but it’s okay because he also cleaned up *most* of the puke and you weren’t going to shower before work anyway, partner, you like doing your Contact Mike thing first, which I remember because unlike some lovesick satellites I might name, I didn’t abandon you to the abyss of your own devices for *two whole weeks* .

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Chester was right -- you do matter -- but given what that means most of the time? You wish to God you didn’t.

Chapter Text

Interlude: February ’50

YOUR LIVING ROOM – The place is a mess. There’s ash and wood debris under the cast iron stove; the boys’ slug trail of boots and scarves and hats starts at the door and ends… sometime in spring, probably. Books and dice and half-full glasses cover the coffee table. Meanwhile, the big-ass pile of laundry you were supposed to fold takes up most of the couch, looming between you and Jude like a judgmental chaperone. 

JUDIT MINOT – She and her whiskey are ignoring you. She got home late and went straight for the bottle, didn’t even bother getting out of uniform, and you…. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – You’re probably sleeping out here again. 

YOUR LIVING ROOM – At least you hit up the library earlier, so you have the new issue of Games and Gamers: A Quarterly Journal of Meta-Ludology to keep you company through another night on this couch, which used to be comfy but now sucks because -- well, probably because you broke it.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – Just like your marriage.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Dude! Your marriage isn’t broken -- no way. You’re gonna talk her around, you’re sure of it. You just gotta… first, you need….

JUDIT MINOT – “So are you ready to tell me what’s wrong, now?”

RHETORIC – Time. You need time to get your head out of your admittedly luscious ass, but do you hear that unspoken You’d damned well better be? 

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Don’t disappoint her even more -- say something. 

YOU – “Not really, no.”

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – OOF.

SUGGESTION – Now you’ve disappointed *both* of you. Nice.

JUDIT MINOT – “Host preserve me, Thom, I’ve been waiting… God, almost two months.” 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – When she puts it like that? It, uh, doesn’t sound great.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Doesn’t feel great, either. 

JUDIT MINOT – She drains her glass and sets it on the table. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Takes some doing: she has to push your crap aside to make space. A pen and a smattering of dice -- clink, CLINK-clink-clink -- skitter across the floor.

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m tired of waiting for things to get better. To be honest, by now I’m not sure I care why they’re bad.” 

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Oh shit.

JUDIT MINOT – “So either tell me what’s going on; or get a job and -- you can keep your secrets, or… whatever. Just *work*. But pick one, now, because I cannot live like this.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – Well, you can’t help it that your feelings aren’t *convenient* for her. They’re not exactly convenient for *you*, either.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Such is your lot, Vacholière, in this city where you love too much… yet somehow never love enough.

RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] – Shit, man, are you *trying* to get dumped? That’s gross. Don’t write yourself like some Revacholian lit protagonist -- you’ve been a shitty husband, and you’re not going to make things better by feeling sorry for yourself. 

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Besides, marriage is by definition *not about you*. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – It’s about the third thing: the one neither of you can force; the one that only exists if you keep choosing each other, together.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah, so… look at Jude, if you can see her over all that laundry you didn’t fold. Look at her expression in the lamplight, her slumped shoulders. See how exhausted she is? How scared? That’s on you, buddy, and she’s not gonna *keep choosing* this, keep choosing *you*, unless you get your shit together.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Give her something to work with, something to show her that you’re trying.

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] – Okay, as long as it’s not --.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – No, it has to be: vulnerability is where the healing chemicals happen.

HALF LIGHT – Aah, fuck out of here with that “let your guard down” shit -- that’s when they get you. 

LOGIC – When *who* gets you? When in your twenty-plus years of being you-and-Jude has Jude even *remotely* attacked you?

HALF LIGHT – When you’ve fucked up and she’s made you face it.

LOGIC – Yeah, those weren’t attacks. That was her helping you fix what you --.

HALF LIGHT – Okay, okay! Enough!

YOU – “I’m scared that if I tell you, you’ll leave again.”

JUDIT MINOT – “I might, but at least I’ll know *why*.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – She means she’s thinking about leaving, regardless.

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – What?! Never. You’re too important to her. 

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Only one way to find out.

YOU – “You mean you’re going to leave anyway.”

JUDIT MINOT – “If you keep not working, and not helping around the house, and hiding at the library, and not telling me why? Yes, mon poumon, I am.”

RHETORIC – I’m not going to say I told you so. I’m just going to point out that I did, in fact, tell you so.

DRAMA – In retrospect, “act like a sulky dickhead and see what happens” was what the boys would call “dumb to the MEGA.”

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Whatever. If she wants to leave, let her. You’ll be fine!

DRAMA – Oh, yeah. “Fat middle-aged dad in love with his ex-wife and her new husband” is gonna look *great* on you. 

“I hear he’s *between jobs*,” people will say as you stand in front of Precinct 41, hoping to glimpse either of your beloveds as big, beery tears glisten in your depression beard. “God, I hope he’s single.”

SUGGESTION – Shit, fine! Just tell her the truth, you melodramatic bi-sexual!

DRAMA – RUDE.

YOU – “I’m in love with Jean, too. Since -- at least since New Year’s, when everyone was giving him a hard time, and I felt -- it was like -- like I would have felt if they were picking on you.” 

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Okay. That’s the easier part done. Now: careful. Don’t stop, don’t lie and, for the love of any Innocence you might invoke, do not look at her. Because if you do, and she looks hurt? You’ll panic your way into a great big Game Over.

YOU – [Stare at the fallen dice like your life depends on it.] “And then I was talking with him in the morning, and the -- the thing that happens with us, once in a while?” 

JUDIT MINOT – “... Breathing between souls?”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – That’s what the Ecclesiastes call it, sure, but it has *so* many other names. And it’s not like it’s a religious thing, necessarily -- or even a romantic one! For example, contemporaneous accounts establish beyond doubt that Mazov and Nilsen would --. 

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – OH MY GOD, SHUT *UP*, WE’RE TRYING TO STAY MARRIED.

YOU – “Yeah, that. It happened with him -- I didn’t mean to do it, it freaked me the fuck out. He didn’t do it back, which was a relief… but also, ouch? And since then it’s just been more and bigger feelings, so big it’s hard to do much of anything, and… yeah.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Oh, God, that’s a hard-earned honesty high.

JUDIT MINOT – “That’s… that’s it?”

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – What? This is *huge*! You’re pushing forty, and Jean’s only the second person you’ve ever been in love with, ever *breathed* with that way. Going through it a second time (or, as you’ve taken to calling it, “Falling In Love Round II: ‘Oh, *Fuck*’ Boogaloo”) has ransacked your emotional landscape and left it with all the structural integrity of porch collapse -- and she rates it a *that’s it*? What the fuck?! 

YOU – “I don’t… what do you mean *that’s it*?”

JUDIT MINOT – “You. Quit. Your. Job. And I’ve taken every shift I’ve been offered since, which means I’ve worked every day -- *every day* -- for six weeks. I’m *exhausted*, Thom, but I can’t rest. Because if I do, we won’t have heat, or food, or a roof over our fucking heads because… you’re *too upset* to work, apparently, since * you’re* in love with Jean.” 

Quickly, angrily, she wipes tears from her eyes. “Me, though? *Fuck* me.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Credit where it’s due: woman just disembowelled you and threw what was left to the Valley dogs, and she didn’t even raise her voice.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – She’s not saying your feelings for Jean are no big deal. She’s saying they are and you’ve been a total prick about it, which has taken such a toll on her that when she thinks about ending your lungs-deep marriage? It sounds like it might be *less* painful than staying. 

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – Oh, *God*, her face.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Heroic: Failure] – FUCK, this is excruciating.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – No, it’ll be fine, being together will feel good again, you just have to fix it, so… start fixing it! Do something nice, like -- oh! Offer to go down on her! 

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – No, nitpick something she said -- it’ll buy you time.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Oh God, what?! NO.

YOU – “I mean, you didn’t have to take *every* shift --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Et mon cul, c’est du poulet?”

HALF LIGHT – Told you you’d panic if you saw her in pain.

YOU – “Sorry… fuck, Jude, I’m sorry. I… that was stupid.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Yes! It was! Almost as stupid as me for still being here.” 

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – She really does feel like an idiot for trusting you to be a grown-up, and then sticking around while you did… *this*.

JUDIT MINOT – “*God*. I guess I should be grateful you’re ‘just’ in love.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – And not in a guilt spiral because you fucked someone else, she means.

JUDIT MINOT – “Why would you even -- why not just *tell* me? Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – No being glib. No lies. Just answer the questions.

YOU – “No. I knew you would.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Then what the fuck, Thom?”

HALF LIGHT – Good. Again.

YOU – “You said you’d leave if -- no sex without permission, no romance at all. Those were the rules.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] – The I come back from my parents’ instead of divorcing your ass rules, laid down all those years ago.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – They’re sacred to you, the closest things you have to religious commandments. 

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – You have never broken them, and you never will.

JUDIT MINOT – “Well, he’d tell me if you two were fucking, and it’s not like you can afford to buy him flowers, so… *what*, then? What’s the problem?”  

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – You’re doing well. Keep going.

YOU – “I want romance.”

JUDIT MINOT – Wide-eyed, solemn, she looks at you for the first time in what feels like weeks.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Angular features and age lines and winter-chapped skin.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Legendary: Success] – Faerie-like as always, her luminous, deadly spirit glimmering just beneath her deceptively plain shell.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – God, you fucking *love* her. 

JUDIT MINOT – “With… with Jean? Instead of me?”

YOU – “* And* you: I want the three of us.”

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – She’s trying to look unfazed, but you can tell she wasn’t expecting that.

JUDIT MINOT – “But you already --.”

YOU – “And before you say But you already know I’m een love with eem, you smart, unbearably attractive man, we’ll just be een love with eem together -- I don’t want us to be in love with him, I want us to love him as -- as part of *us*.” 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – You haul your middle-aged carcass out of its slump and reach for Jude across the god-damned laundry. 

JUDIT MINOT – “I do *not* sound like that.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – She’s amused, though, despite her best efforts.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Aah, fuck yes! She’s holding your hand!!

YOU – “You kind of do.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – She’s so *little*. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – You’re always a big guy with clumsy-ass fingers, but it’s next to her that you most feel like it.

JUDIT MINOT – “And ‘unbearably attractive?’ *Really*?”

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Don’t answer that.

YOU – [Carefully squeeze her hand.] “I don’t know whether he’d be interested in -- in being part of us, or something, but I couldn’t ask without cheating on you. So I didn’t, because -- don’t laugh, Jude -- because I don’t want to upset either of you.”  

JUDIT MINOT – She bursts out laughing.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] – Not unkindly. Hysterically, sure -- she’s releasing a lot of built-up tension, and it sounds a little feral -- but she really does think it’s funny.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – *Yes*, connection! Keep going: you’re more than happy to throw yourself under the bus in exchange for sweet, sweet oxytocin.

YOU – “Which is working out *great*, by the way, soy el más grande, a real smooth operator, and -- hey! I said *don’t* laugh.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Whoa, it feels nice to smile with her again.

JUDIT MINOT – She keeps laughing. Eventually, she takes a deep breath to steady herself. 

“Well, you were a little bit right: I *am* going to say you already know I’m in love with him.” While she thinks, she fidgets with your wedding ring. “But you don’t know what I’ll suggest, Thom, because you don’t know what I want, because *you haven’t asked*.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – That is… kind of huge-ass oversight on your part, yeah.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – You’ve been a self-absorbed dickhead lately. 

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Imagine how much better you’d do if you renamed this life-chapter “Falling In Love Round II: This Time, There’s Three Of You.”

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – … You could, on purpose, involve all three of you in sorting this out, as though you were actual, you know, *adults*. 

RHETORIC – Fuckin’ outstanding, you beautiful bastard.

YOU – [Gently massage her palms.] “What do you want?”

JUDIT MINOT – “You need to work.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Formidable: Success] – NOOOO

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Yeah.

YOU – “Yeah.”

JUDIT MINOT – “And you need to help me out -- *actually* help, not just play games with the boys, and make them all the chocolats chauds they think they should drink, and sit on your ass with Binoclard Monthly while I run myself ragged.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Absolutely.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – However…!

YOU – “Whoa-whoa-whoa. Say what you like about me, Jude, but Games and Gamers: A Quarterly Journal of Meta-Ludology deserves more respect.”

JUDIT MINOT – She gifts you a small, sidelong smile. “Thom, I can’t respect it when I don’t even know what it *means*.” 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – You could teach her!

LOGIC – Not now, dude.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Not *ever*, simply because *she does not care about games that much*. Let her have her own interests.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – And ask her about them more often. 

LOGIC – You used to be better at this, before the pale-tornado of OH GOD, JEAN EMOTIONS ripped through your brain.

EMPATHY – Feelings happen. Just keep showing up, yeah?

JUDIT MINOT – “Anyway… start with work. Once that’s settled, we can talk about what we want, and maybe find out what Jean wants, if…. I *have* wondered what he’d want to be called, if it turned out that he… ‘if’ lots of things, I guess.”

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] – Huh. She’s clearly been thinking about this -- if *what*, exactly?

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Don’t say anything.  She’s got that little forehead crinkle happening, the one that means she’s….

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Concerned? Shy? She doesn’t want to be asked about it right now, anyway.

HALF LIGHT – No problem: it means she’ll appreciate an excuse to avoid it for the moment, and baby, you were *born* for that shit.

YOU – “You wouldn’t just call him ‘a *very* good boy?’”

JUDIT MINOT – She kisses your fingers and, stretching and grimacing, gets to her feet. “That’s my cue to go to bed, I think… and you can make that face all you like, mon poumon , but I’m not taking you with me.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. She’s still way too mad at you, on account of the whole “you’ve spent literally the entire calendar year fucking her over” thing.

YOU – “Ah, yes: another night on the couch, another hot date with Binoclard Monthly.” [Tilt your face up in the hope that Jude will kiss your forehead. Close your eyes and bask in it, when she does.] “How about ‘satellite husband?’”

JUDIT MINOT – “For God’s sake, Thom, he might not even want to *date* us.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – She said “us.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Aah, fuck yeah! See, bratan? Vulnerability works!

PNEUMA (INHALE) [Challenging: Success] – Beaux rêves, mon âme. 

PNEUMA (EXHALE) – Que sueñes conmigo, mi pulmón. 

JUDIT MINOT – Softly, she closes the bedroom door. 

YOU – [Look at the door. Have feelings about it. Look at the laundry, then at Binoclard Monthly, then at the laundry again.]

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – This is one of those little moments where you get to choose big things: you can put your get-shit-done where your mouth is, or you can sit here like a little Jude’s-future-ex bitch.

YOU – [Stand. Fold the god-damned laundry. Don’t stop until it’s done. Consider sweeping the floor, but decide you don’t like your odds of doing it without knocking a bunch of shit over in the dark and waking up the boys. Commit to doing it tomorrow -- like, *actual* tomorrow, not sempre domani tomorrow. Get as comfortable as you can on the busted-ass couch. Commit to doing something about that, too.]

YOUR LIVING ROOM – The place is a mess, yeah… but you’re gonna clean it the fuck up.

Chapter Text

Wednesday 7 March ’51

JUDE AND THOM’S PATIO – You and Judit stand side-by-side, smoking, each exhale visible in the chill. Half-melted snow and sodden grass muffle the block’s nightly chorus.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – Layers of radio patter; motor carriages as second shift workers rumble home; overhead chittering from squirrels on laundry lines and high-voltage cables.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – Sodium streetlamps throw warm light and weird shadows.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Dinner’s over. Game Night’s over. The others have left, the boys are in bed: you should go.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – But Jude looked up with a wry, private smile after she closed the door behind a still-babbling Trant, and said Smoke with me?, and….

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – You’re smoking with her.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Your shoulders brush; the vapour trails of your breath tangle as they rise. 

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean?”

YOU – [Look at her soulful brown eyes, her laugh and worry lines. Don’t kiss her. You can’t kiss her.]

JUDIT MINOT – She drops her cigarette into the bucket by the stairs, fidgets with her necklace, and then… nothing. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – She’s nervous.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – But not afraid.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Of what?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – She wants to kiss you.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – No, loser, she doesn’t. That fantasy shit has gone to your head.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Hey, Wirrâl isn’t shit! 

LOGIC – And it hasn’t gone to your head. Sure, tonight’s session saw your party schmooze and debauch its way through a masquerade at the faerie court -- *and* prevent a civil war in the process! -- but you’re not stupid enough to think anything that cool could happen to you. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – True… but you *could* get laid.

JUDIT MINOT – “I wondered -- I want --.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – HERE WE GO

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Nope. These pauses aren’t *sexy*. Judit just can’t find the right words… which means she also can’t find a graceful way to stop looking for them.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – And -- oh god, her poor face -- she knows it. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Legendary: Success] – Fucking *excruciating*. Still: you wait for her to finish, and you don’t flinch.

JUDIT MINOT – “I wanted to thank you for helping out when I was -- when Joe died.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Shit. Sorry.

VOLITION – It’s fine. Probably good some part of you can still hope.

JUDIT MINOT – “It meant so much extra work for you at the precinct, and -- and here, so… thank you.”

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – The work *was* hard -- but also, it was nothing. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – It was easier than this conversation, that’s for goddamn sure. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – Anyway, what you did for Thom and Jude was nothing special: you just orbited them. You’re a satellite. It’s what you do.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – And compared with all the *damage control shit* you’ve had to shovel since Harry pedalled his rainbow-wig-wearing, red-nose-honking unicycle-riding ass all the way from “functional alcoholic” to “violent drunk”? It was practically a holiday.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Just checking: you’re not even going to speculate about what Judit couldn’t say, before?

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Huh. … Thom’s been working enough; you’ve been sober enough. Luc’s still a socially hopeless gremlin and Armand still has all the book-smarts of a cement truck, but they’re good kids: you can’t imagine they’ve done anything Jude couldn’t bring herself to talk about.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – The work she shares with you and your brothers troubles her no more than usual, and no less.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – She’s been back for weeks, but you still check her wrists when you think she isn’t looking… and you still panic sometimes because she -- because it could --. 

LOGIC – It could always be any of you. Fortunately, it was Joe.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – *Jean*!

LOGIC – What? He was a piece of shit, and you’re a burned-out sad sack whose grief is for Jude and, if you’re honest, for her hair. She had it cut short, after --. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Look at it! It barely reaches her jaw!

HALF LIGHT – Because she’s scared it’ll get grabbed like a fucking handle again. Don’t bring it up, and shut down anyone who does.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – It’s just… her long hair was *glorious*, goddamn it.

VOLITION [Challenging: Succcess] – Yeah, it was, but Jude’s been waiting for you to reply since Guillaume the fucking Lion skipped town. Answer her already, if you can stand to separate your head and your ass for that long.

YOU –

1. [Volition 20: Impossible] “That wasn’t *work*, Judit. That was a billet-doux.”
2. [Composure 12: Challenging] “Any time. … Everything okay?”
3. [Play down what you did, then change the subject.]

YOU – “It was nothing, Judit. Don’t be stupid.” [Ditch your long-dead cigarette. Watch Jude breathe into her hands and, frowning, tuck them into her pockets.] “Should we head in? You look cold.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Do I?”

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – She sounds surprised and, suddenly, sad.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. You have that effect on people.

JUDIT MINOT – “I guess I am.”

YOU – [Follow Judit through the kitchen into the living room. Trade Hey s with Thom, who’s reading on the couch like a giant bino. Say you should go; be relieved when Judit sits and says I’d rather you didn’t and Thom pats the cushion between them. Hang up your coat and Jude’s, then sit, careful not to touch anyone.]

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – A satellite never reaches the body -- or bodies -- it orbits. 

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – It does if it becomes terminally unstable! Then it crashes.

CONCEPTUALISATION – … Thanks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Any time! 

JUDIT MINOT – Her face drawn, she stares at nothing in particular and picks her fingers between sighs. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] – *God*, this is awkward.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Clenching up like you’re afraid you might shit yourself isn’t helping.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – Seriously, Jean, you have all the charisma of a traffic cone. Try to relax for once.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – You spent half the day worried because Harry didn’t show and the other half worried because when he did, he was stinking drunk and wandered C-Wing picking locks and fights; you did *your fucking job*, and his, and then you -- not Harry, not after Judit said You know I care about you, Harry, but I… don’t make me deal with this, please? Not tonight? -- you came here. 

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – … Where you’re always worried you’ll say I love you when you’re supposed to say *anything* else.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – In other words: no. You’re not going to relax. Relaxing’s not your *thing*. Also, your heart is stupid.

JUDIT MINOT – “Was it really nothing?”

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Failure] – What?

THOM MINOT – “What?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Not you, Thom, I’m -- Jean, would you at least *look* at me?”

YOU – [Look at her, feeling like a tool because you don’t know what the shit she’s talking about. Try not to look as shocked as you feel when she abruptly puts her hand on your leg.]

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Your *leg*? No-no, she’s too far up for that. That’s your thigh, if you’re being generous.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Oh, *Jude’s* the one being generous: that’s your crotch.

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – It’s your LEG. Keep your slacks on, asshole.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Fine, but good luck explaining yourself when part of your *leg* pops wood.

THOM MINOT – “Whoa.” He closes his book and sets it on the table.

HALF LIGHT [Challenging: Success] – Shit, is he mad at --.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Nah. Clock that body language, those dilated pupils.

THOM MINOT – His shoulders relaxed, his knees lazily apart, he stares at Judit’s hand.

HALF LIGHT – His whole vibe’s shifted from “this guy’s ten minutes from snoring with that book on his chest” to “this guy’s wide awake and actively *not* touching his dick.” 

He’s… not mad. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – No shit! Fucking kiss him already!

THOM MINOT – “Should I go?”

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – *You* should go. 

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – You *shouldn’t be here*. You’re the unit’s second in command and, Host and all of Heaven help you, frequently its ranking officer. Put a stop to this.

JUDIT MINOT – “Only if you want to, mon poumon.”  

As though to comfort -- you? herself? -- she fidgets with the fabric over your… whatever’s under her hand. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Your thigh, unfortunately -- but! Feel that soupçon of collateral dick?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT  [Trivial: Success] – Of course you do. This is the most action you’ve had in *years*.

JUDIT MINOT – “What you did wasn’t nothing.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Shit. This is about what you said outside, isn’t it?

JUDIT MINOT – “*You’re* not --.”

THOM MINOT – “You *sure* you want me here, babe? Because I can take a --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Thom, if you *take a walk* to avoid my feelings, I’m fucking him without you.”

LOGIC [Trivial: Failure] – She what

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] – You heard the ma’am!

THOM MINOT – He glances at you and then, presumably satisfied that you’re interested, leans back and puts his arm around you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – … And so did he.

JUDIT MINOT – “God. What was I saying…? I can’t -- fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – That sadness in her voice again; that ache it puts in your lungs.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – This… is not about what you said outside, really. 

EMPATHY – Yeah. It’s about whatever Jude didn’t.

JUDIT MINOT – Concentrating -- or maybe concerned? -- she lays her palms on your cheeks.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] – Cigarettes, typewriter ink, almond fragrance. 

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – Thom’s lips find your earlobe; you shiver at the warmth and closeness of his breath, the scrape of his stubble as he kisses your cheek, and Jude’s hand on it; and Jude --.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Holy shit, she’s going to kiss you!

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – You can’t let her.

JUDIT MINOT – She drags her fingertips down your neck and -- Host in Heaven, you’re not strong enough for this -- beneath your collar. 

“Can I kiss you?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – FUCK YES!

AUTHORITY [Formidable: Failure] – Oh god. You’re not going to do your job, are you? You’re not even going to try.

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] – … Fuck. 

YOU – “Yes.” 

[Close your eyes. Heart pounding, let her kiss you. Don’t -- you shouldn’t kiss her back, so you -- kiss her back. Her lips feel chapped and soft; as they quietly, politely obliterate you, wonder if she finds your scratchy beard painful.]

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Relax. You’re not hurting her. She’s practically -- no, holy shit, she’s *actually* climbing into your lap. 

YOU AND JUDIT MINOT – She kisses you; and you run your hands along her hips, her sides; she leans into your touch, and kisses you, and -- oh god, her nipples are hard under her shirt, *you’re* hard, you’re kissing, still; you reach between her thighs to feel for her clit through her slacks and she murmurs Wait, keep your -- there, stay there and then, as she rocks on your stunned, obedient fingers, *God*, Jean, that’s… come to bed so I can do this on your face and you nearly --.

THOM MINOT – “Hail holy -- *fuck*, you two.”

YOU AND THOM MINOT – You turn to him and he kisses you, and *kisses* you, his mouth and hands slow and gentle and everywhere; his stubble catches your lips and -- dizzy, good, *more* -- you take, reluctantly, your hand from between Jude’s legs to stroke Thom’s visibly hard prick through his jeans and -- oh shit, that’s -- his low, desperate groan goes straight to your balls, how have you never -- he’s built like a goddamn commercial refrigerator, why is he being so *gentle* with --.

JUDIT MINOT – “Bedroom,” she says, voice and legs unsteady as she half-falls from your lap on her way to her feet, “*now*, both of you.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – YES MA’AM

YOU – [Start to get up; when Thom says Wait, wait. Like the idiot you are, fail yet again to work out what the hell is going on.]

THOM MINOT – He presses his forehead to yours and just… *stays*, immersing you in warm, steady breaths and ticklish curls.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – *Oh*. 

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – Yeah-yeah, very nice, congrats on the intimate homo shit, but you should figure out why he’s dragging his feet instead of dragging you to bed with him.

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] – Oh god. He doesn’t smoke, and Judit -- does, but not stupid-much, not like you, so -- shit, why are you so *slow*? -- he’s probably working out how to tell you that kissing you is like eating out an ashtray. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – He’d be better off with the ashtray. He could be sure it wouldn’t burst into tears, after.

THOM MINOT – “Jean, I….”

JUDIT MINOT – “Come *on*, Thom.” She gestures towards the bedroom. “Can’t this wait until we’ve locked the door?”

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Failure] – Can it -- is she fucking kidding?! 

THOM MINOT – “... Yeah, mi pulmón, it can wait.”

ENDURANCE – AAAH 

THOM MINOT – With a muffled Oof, he stands, then pulls you to your feet. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – As though you, a card-carrying “lift heavy, die young” motherfucker, weigh *nothing*.

THOM MINOT – “After you, babe.”

YOU – [Follow Judit into the bedroom. Realise only after the door clicks shut, after Judit turns and tests the deadbolt, that Thom was talking to you.]

* * *

JUDE AND THOM’S BEDROOM – Like usual, it’s a goddamn stacked disaster: books to be returned, laundry to be ironed or put away, mending to be done, confiscated misbehaving-kid crap to be figured out. The bedside lamp gives off, grudgingly, just enough light. A few icons gaze beside well-used votives; a wooden Chi-Rho hangs from a nail above the door, swaying side-to-side with every footstep as Jude and Thom get ready for bed. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – This is a normal, if Ecclesiastic-leaning, married couple’s bedroom. 

THOM MINOT – “I found the lube, babe, but where are the condoms?”

JUDIT MINOT – “They aren’t in the bottom drawer, too?”

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Also, while you’re *noticing things*? Thom called you --.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Hang on: it is not normal in here. Normal people don’t have a locked drawer where they keep their guns -- or guns, for that matter.

THOM MINOT – “So, they *are* in here, but they’re way up the back --.” 

JUDIT MINOT – “Plus ça change….”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Or nearly an entire wall of tabletop game posters!

THOM MINOT – “-- and they expired in ’49.”

JUDIT MINOT – “*No*. Those are new… I only just bought them!”

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Or a third wheel standing by the door like a self-conscious crétin .

THOM MINOT – “*Jude*. You seeing this dust?”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, that’s… God, we’re old.”

She kneels next to the bed and reaches beneath it, feeling for then pulling free the restraints that are… apparently anchored at each corner of the frame. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – Holy shit, check out those cuffs! Did she hand-make them?! 

Also, for the record… ropes and shit aren’t *normal married couple* stuff, either.

RHETORIC – Okay, *okay*! It is *absolutely not normal* in here, it is fucking weird and that’s -- fine! Whatever! You’re not so normal yourself! -- but who gives a shit because *Thom called you --*. 

VOLITION – Drop it. 

RHETORIC – But --.

VOLITION – No “but”s. You’re not exploring that. You’re not exploring *any*thing because you’re not supposed to be here. Just have sex with these people you absolutely should not have sex with, and go home.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Formidable: Success] – Nope. Ignore that boner-melting shit: you’re here to get comprehensively laid, mon amant. Emotionally jerking off when someone calls you a pet name is *part of the package*… so to speak.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Not “someone.” *Thom*.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – See? You’re a natural.

JUDIT MINOT – “You know, Jean, we did actually invite you to *bed* with us.” 

She’s already there, sat on the edge, naked except for her necklace. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Hunched in a way that’s not like her -- self-conscious, probably.

JUDIT MINOT – She gestures for you to join her; you do, but something about how you move, or look, or -- she frowns. 

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Makes sense. A lot of things are wrong with you.  

THOM MINOT – Clearly trying for “unobtrusive,” he joins you on the bed. He fails -- he distorts space-time (or at least the mattress) like a hairy-ass celestial object that’s also naked and *also* hard -- but as failures go, it’s pretty endearing.

JUDIT MINOT – “Vic, I’m sorry, that was -- I shouldn’t have teased you. If you’d rather we just sleep, or you want to go home, it’s okay.” Briefly, she touches your hand. “*We’re* okay.”

YOU – [Shake your head like a normal human being, not a loser whose mind is a badly maintained carousel of idiot horses… and touch her hand in return.]

YOU –

1. [Volition 20: Impossible] (Tell the complete truth.) “Relax, Judit. The teasing’s fine -- the sex, too. I’ve just stepped in a couple piles of *absolute shit* tonight, both of which I made, and now I stink of ‘piss-poor officer too weak to turn down you and your husband’ *and* ‘goddamn coward too scared to tell either of you why.’ Also, I’m in love with you, and with Thom, so… yeah. There’s that. Anyway, let’s fuck!”
2. [Electrochemistry 14: Legendary] (Tell the *sexy* truth.) “Hey, tease me all you want, but tie me up while you do it… unless the restraints are for Mr Franconigerian Cavalry here?”
3. [Empathy 10: Medium] [You don’t trust yourself not to sound like even more of a moron than usual. Just reassure her, undress, and get into bed, okay?]

Empathy 10: Success

YOU – “It’s all right, Judit.” [Take off your socks. Throw them onto the pile of dirty laundry.] “Been a long day -- just spaced out for a minute, that’s all.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Mon pauvre chéri.” 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Yeah, that landed. 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – You can literally hear her breathing easier.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – And mon pauvre chéri? A little pathetic, sure, but coming from Judit? It’s… yeah. Feels nice.  

JUDIT MINOT – She kisses the base of your neck, and rubs your back, and -- oh, God -- unclips your holster from your belt.

“Thom, help me take this off?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – FUCK YEAH!

THOM MINOT – “Fuck yeah.” He guides the straps over your shoulders, then -- you shiver -- eases your arms out of the straps.

YOU – [Breathe. Let Judit and Thom undress you; let yourself enjoy the care they take with it. Don’t react when you notice the briefs you’re wearing not only scream poor as balls but also remind you of Harry because, way back when he gave a shit about you, he dyed them pink. Breathe. Don’t ask to keep your singlet on -- you don’t want to show your scars, but the thought of hiding them feels worse. Naked, half-hard, let Judit and Thom ease you all the way onto the bed, then onto your back. *Breathe*.]

JUDIT MINOT – “There we are.” Settling beside you, she kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “Beautiful.” 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You aren’t.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Trivial: Success] – You can’t see Thom, but he’s -- still delicately, what the hell -- kissing and touching his way up your legs.

THOM MINOT – “Beautiful, yeah. … Strong, too. Feel those quads? *Damn*.” 

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: Success] – Your strength doesn’t stop your ugliness from permeating the factual bedrock of your universe.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – Fuck’s sake! Ugly, not-ugly: whatever you are, these very nice, very attractive people are trying to have a threesome with you. Quit getting in their way!

THOM MINOT – “God, your *back*.” 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – ….

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Success] – Come on. You know your scars define you.

YOU – “Yeah, smallpox. From when I was a kid.” You resist, barely, the urge to apologise. “Luckily, I was already used to getting beat up for being a weak-ass bino -- nothing changed when I got well enough to go back and got beat up for being shit-ugly, too.”

JUDIT MINOT – “*Jean.*” Rhythmically, she strokes your hair. “ Don’t talk about yourself like that.”  

THOM MINOT – “Whoa, I --.” He crawls to your side and makes a Shit, what happened? face at Jude, then at you. “I wasn’t talking about your scars, Jean, I was talking about how *built* you are. You’re -- do you honestly think you’re ugly?”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Yes.

YOU – [Nod. If you speak, you’ll cry.]

THOM MINOT – Palms rough and warm and so, so gentle, he touches you: your scarred face, your scarred shoulders, your scarred chest.

“You’re not. You look like a fucking painting… I can’t believe I’m in bed with you.” 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – [Choke back what nearly becomes a whimper.] 

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, mon cœur. Mon bien-aimé.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – … *Wow*.

THOM MINOT – “Hey, what’s -- are you okay?”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – No. You haven’t been okay for a long time.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Failure] – Your core shakes; your mouth crumples. Hot tears race down your cheeks. 

VOLITION [Trivial: Success] – FUCK.

YOU – [Lie here in Thom and Jude’s sheets, naked, sobbing with your arm over your face.]

EMPATHY [Easy: Failure] – Well, ça y est. Enjoy this thing you’ve known so long but managed not to *feel* til now: all these years you worked yourself sick in the gym, in therapy, with the RCM, with the MCU, with Harry -- they were pointless. *You* were pointless. You were never going to change anything, least of all yourself. 

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Yep. The world’s an unsalvageable shithole; you’re a fucking crybaby; and the two people you’re in bed with just saw you for the terminally defective, fundamentally unlovable sack of shit you are.

VOLITION [Trivial: Failure] – In other words, Jean-Heron, you shouldn’t be here.

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: Success] – *STOP*. 

YOU – ….

HALF LIGHT – Ignore your mind. Pay attention to what’s actually happening, here, *now*. 

JUDIT MINOT – Kneeling, her legs snug against your side, she holds your hand and murmurs under her breath with a confidence that suggests long-memorised prayer.

THOM MINOT – He half engulfs you, one arm and one leg protectively slung across your body. Intermittently, he nuzzles your cheek.

HALF LIGHT – You are, and feel, safe.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Hang on. You’re nothing if not a connoisseur of crying jags, and this one feels… different. Like you’re setting down something heavy.

ENDURANCE [Formidable: Success] – Something you carried for far, far too long.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Formidable: Success] – Yourself.

ENDURANCE – Huh?

CONCEPTUALISATION – You’re a satellite. Never reaching, never *touching* is how you stay in orbit…

THOM MINOT – “Hey.” Blinking, he sits up with a grunt. “You back with us, babe?”

CONCEPTUALISATION – … but orbiting’s killing you, yeah?

YOU – [Sit up, too.] “Yeah.” [Nod your thanks as Judit hands you the tissues. Blow your nose. Wipe your tired, snotty face.] “Sure you still want me?”

THOM MINOT – “Hey, you fuck a guy called ‘Sad Cop,’ you figure not every tissue you go through is gonna be sexy.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean, I -- of course I want you. Let me show you that much, at least.”

CONCEPTUALISATION – So fall.

JUDE AND THOM’S BEDROOM – And for an ecstatic, photoampoule-brief eternity, you do.

Chapter Text

Wednesday 7 March ’51

ORBITAL DECAY -- TERMINAL VELOCITY -- THE MAGNETOSPHERE, BURNING – Restrained, surrounded, you --.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Wait-wait-wait. You’re in bed, Vicquemare, not *hurtling through space*. Quit talking like you’ve got Shitkid Disease.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Medium: Success] – How does it feel to be the single most wilfully uncultured man in Elysium?

VOLITION – Oh, it’s --.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Safer than sounding like a homo.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You’re not a homo, though. You’re….

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – “Bi-sexual.” The word you want is “bi-sexual.”

HALF LIGHT – That’s not safe, either.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – But it *is* fun!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Success] – It’s also happening RIGHT NOW, WITH YOUR BODY, so stop jerking off about words.

RHETORIC – *FINE*. 

JUDE AND THOM’S BED – Restrained and surrounded, you struggle in the soft leather cuffs and softer, well-worn sheets: to stay quiet; to touch things -- Judit’s ass, Thom’s prick, your own -- the ropes won’t or only sometimes let you reach. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – In other words, you’re in *heaven*. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Judit’s thighs warm on your ears, her bush scraping your beard, you work your stiff tongue between her slick-sour folds as she rocks. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – You suck --

THOM MINOT – “Not sure what you’re doing down there, babe, but you should see her face.”

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – The mattress dips. Lips near but -- fuck! -- not *quite* touching your prick, Thom kisses you: your hips, your stomach, the insides of your thighs. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – -- and suck --

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, god. Harder?” 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Harder. 

JUDIT MINOT – “ Oh. Good, Jean.” Then, meditatively: “Slower. … *Yes*. Like that, like… fuck .”

THOM MINOT – “*Wow*. … Do you always look this hot when you get eaten out?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – God, his face is so warm between your legs, and his breath; and you just -- if he would just --.

JUDIT MINOT – “Thom, are you -- how would I know that?”

THOM MINOT – “Hey, I’ve usually got the Jean’s-eye-view here.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, for god’s….”

THOM AND JUDIT MINOT – Thom moves -- shit -- and they must have reached for each other because they kiss, loudly; and kiss; and you --.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] – Whimper.

JUDIT MINOT – She stills, slightly lifting herself from your face. “Jean?”

YOU – “I’m -- it’s fine.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – It *is* fine, but… you’re jealous, *idiotically* jealous, and your twitching, dripping prick -- not your lungs, never your lungs -- fucking *aches*, and you -- and you --.

JUDIT MINOT – Leaning back, she briefly touches your right arm, then your left. 

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – She feels so *warm*.

JUDIT MINOT – She hums, dissatisfied. 

“Thom, help me up?” 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – NOOO

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Hey! Keep it together, loser.

JUDIT MINOT – She moves; her quick hands release your wrists, then your ankles, from the cuffs.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Failure] – You lower your arms, just… not very well. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah. They’re asleep. You were too *distracted* to notice.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – You feel the stirrings of pins-and-needles hell, which will suck --

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Hee*.

PAIN THRESHOLD – -- but not for long, and you’re more than capable of dealing with it.

JUDIT MINOT – “If I get this one, can you --?”

THOM MINOT – “Yeah, of course.”

YOU – [Start to tell them not to bother: you’re fine. Stop. Let them help you, your heart pounding and your arms burning hot-cold-numb as you wait out the pain here in the late-night quiet, in the bedside lamp’s small but unfaltering light.]

THOM AND JUDIT MINOT – They lie on either side of you, massaging your arms and pausing to kiss you and stroke your hair.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – You’re… actually okay now. Pain’s gone, feeling’s mostly back, what’s left of the numbness will wear off fast.

JUDIT MINOT – “Better?”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – *Perfect*.

YOU – “Better.”

THOM MINOT – “Well, thank fuck for that.” He kisses your shoulder. “Nothing kills the mood like having to amputate.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh my god.” She props herself up on one arm and smiles at you, tired and beautiful and mischief-sharp. “Think you might feel up to fucking me?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] – YES!

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – But….

YOU – “I thought you said -- are the condoms out-of-date?”

JUDIT MINOT – She nods. “It’s… not the end of the world. They’d just be more likely to break. We could be extra careful, but… to be honest, Jean, I don’t give a shit about the condoms.” 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – YES!!

LOGIC – Whoa-whoa-whoa…!

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh, your *face*!” She laughs.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – The sound is warm and soft, caressing you like audible dopamine.

JUDIT MINOT – “Don’t panic. I -- when Armand was born, I -- it’d be hard for me to get pregnant.” 

Unconsciously, you think, she touches the scar above her mound.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – A story there, one she doesn’t want to tell you now.

LOGIC – Fine, but listen, pregnancy’s not the only reason you might --.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – No-no, *you* listen: you’ve been stabbed. You’ve been shot at. You’ve held back Harry’s blood  -- *Harry’s!* -- with your bare idiot hands and endured *months* of testing before Nix gave you the all-clear. 

In other words, your life is already one long, stupid-ass risk. This one, though, you can actually *enjoy*.

YOU – “I….”

THOM MINOT – He watches you, waiting for your answer as he slowly strokes his prick.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – *Hng*.

LOGIC – Hey! Focus: what about the risks you pose to Jude?

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – The risks she takes are *her* decisions, not yours.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – And don’t flatter yourself: after the dry spell you’ve had, the biggest *risk* is that you’ll have no fucking clue what you’re doing.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Yeah… unless Judit’s allergic to dust. 

EMPATHY – *Oof*.  

YOU – [Resist the urge to apologise for taking so long.] “Should I warn you if -- should I pull out, or…?”

JUDIT MINOT – “ Dieu du ciel, Vic.”  She straddles you with a frustrated groan. “Thom, would you move? I -- thanks.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Oh, god, her whole body’s… skin-to-skin like this, you….

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] – Are hard. *So* hard! Which is great, because her pussy is *right there*!! 

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m saying *I want you to fucking raw me* -- do you want to, or not?”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Yes!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – YES!!!

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – God, you -- I’m not supposed to love you isn’t an answer, you can’t -- *yes*.

YOU – [Nod, stunned silent, hoping your expression tells her -- everything you can’t.] 

THOM MINOT – “Holy shit.” He moans and kisses you, hard, as he strokes Jude’s back. “Just the way you two look at each other is enough to make me come.” 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] – You certainly hope not. You want him to fucking raw you, too.

* * *

Thursday 8 March ’51

PRECINCT 41 – Full ashtrays and cold coffee, half-eaten kebabs and relieved clock-punchers: night’s closing in. Sunset’s gold-and-pink fire consumes the district like so much coal as traffic builds on the 8/81.

C-WING – In a racket of banging desk drawers and clicking lamp chains, most of your colleagues make for the locker bay.

YOU – Not you. You’re still working. 

JUDIT MINOT – So is she, though she has both your coats and bags on her desk and keeps throwing you looks that say Please can we go now .

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – You said you’d go check on Harry with her and then walk her home, and you will… but you need to finish yet another goddamn *Harry incident report* first.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – No, you don’t. Paperwork can wait. Jude shouldn’t have to.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Her arm’s in a sling: not broken, but cut and bruised. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – It must hurt like hell. 

NIX GOTTLIEB – “Quit trying to talk your way out of the sling, Minot. I *know* you: I take it off, you walk out of here and use that arm like nothing happened, it doesn’t heal, it gets worse, your sad-sack nounours here --”

YOU – “Hey!”

NIX GOTTLIEB – “-- gets *concerned*, he bitches at me, we fight, he loses, Pryce makes that constipated surrounded-by-idiots face at us… I’m too old for that shit. Anyway, just because it’s not big-time broken doesn’t mean it’s not a *little* broken, so wear the damn sling. ”

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Still, she won’t like it if you stop working because she’s injured. She’s already tired of you having a *thing* about it -- she shush ed you on the walk back from the lazareth.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Of course she did. You proved Nix’s point: you wouldn’t stop bitching.

YOU – “I can’t *believe* that asshole didn’t do an X-ray. ‘Maybe it’s broken, maybe it’s not’ -- wow! Thank you, Nix, that’s *very fucking helpful*.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Jean --.”

YOU – “And his *hands*! Is he on speed? Is he *off* booze? I’ve seen better sutures in the -- shit, let’s be honest: I’ve *done* better sutures in the field. If there’s *any* scarring, Jude, I swear to --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Oh my god, *Vic*. Would you relax? The stitches are nothing.” 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – You know. You’ve closed plenty of your own wounds. 

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – But it’s the pain of those you care about that knocks the wind out of you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Speaking of, you’re not doing a great job on this report.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – No kidding. Your attention’s shit because you’re overtired. Go home, and least *try* to rest.

JUDIT MINOT – She taps fretful rhythms on her wool coat, which she’s spread across her lap like a blanket.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Host in Heaven, those *thighs*! Until last night, you hadn’t realised -- you hadn’t *looked*, not properly -- it wouldn’t have been --.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – She’s so strong. Small compared to you, yeah, but when you stop comparing and just *see* her? 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Or feel her, or taste her, or….

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Hey, wait: that’s *your* coat in her lap!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – No shit! It could even be *you*, if you’d just get out of here, already.

JUDIT MINOT – “I know you want to finish this report, Jean, but no one’s going to read it between now and tomorrow morning. You can do it then -- can we *please* just go home?”

YOU –

1. [Agree. You’ve put her through enough as it is.]
2. [Tell her to leave without you. You’ll both be unhappy about it, but she’ll understand.] 

YOU – “Okay, Judit. Let’s --.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Trivial: Success] – Your phone rings.

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Failure] – GOD FUCKING SHIT

YOU AND JUDIT MINOT – For a half-second that feels much longer, you share a silent stare that says you both know you’re going to pick up.

YOU – “I don’t have to --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Go ahead.”

YOU – “You know you don’t have to wait for --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “*Jean*.”

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Easy: Success] – The receiver’s been brrrang -ing out of its cradle all afternoon; the plastic is warm in your sweaty hand. 

YOU – “What?”

NICOLAS BASSETT – “Whoa, J-Heron! I wanted Officer Du Bois.”

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – Goddamn it, why does this little shit call *Harry* of all people “Officer” -- usually when he’s talking *to you* -- while he calls you “Jean” or “J-Vic” or, fuck him for being too rude to ignore but too funny to do anything about, “Jarçean?”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Because you stink of defeat the way Harry stinks of booze.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Because you like his attitude problem -- it’s a survival thing -- and he knows it.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – Also, going out of his way to shit you up the wall means he trusts you, which he only does because you consistently, repeatedly * earn it* even when you feel like throwing both of you into the Esperance -- and he knows that, too. 

YOU –

1. “Sorry, but *Officer Du Bois* put my -- he put someone in the lazareth. You’re stuck with me.”
2. “Yeah, well, unfortunately for both of us, Nicky, you called *my* phone, so I’m the loser on the other end of it. What’s up?”
3. [Volition 20: Impossible] [Tell him to call tomorrow. It’s after hours, and you need to go home.]

Volition 20: Failure

YOU – Oh, no-no-no. Not an option -- not for you. You’re too much of a workaholic.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – But Judit looks so tired….

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Yeah! She does! She’s had a long day, you were a dickhead to her, and now you’re being a *slightly different* kind of dickhead by making it even longer. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – It’s okay, Vic. Stop beating yourself up.

EMPATHY – You won’t listen to her, but you should.

YOU –

1. “Sorry, but *Officer Du Bois* put my -- he put someone in the lazareth. You’re stuck with me.”
2. “Yeah, well, unfortunately for both of us, Nicky, you called *my* phone, so I’m the loser on the other end of it. What’s up?”

YOU – “Yeah, well, unfortunately for both of us, Nicky, you called *my* phone, so I’m the loser on the other end of it. What’s up?”

NICOLAS BASSETT – “Man, I *told* you, people call me ‘Kilo.’ They train you to be disrespectful in pig school or what?” 

YOU – [Sigh an exhausted, balls-deep sigh.] “Fine. Kilo --.”

NICKY FUCKING KILO – “Ha-*ha*, YES! I am a god! Cindy didn’t believe me when I told her I could get a cop to call me that.” 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Rookie mistake. You know from experience that there is, for better and frequently worse, very little cops *will not* do.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] – You also know from experience that your dwelling on this fact improves neither cops nor your will to live, so: onward.

YOU – “Who the fuck is Cindy?”

JUDIT MINOT – She’s hiding her mouth behind her hand, but you’re pretty sure she’s laughing.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Not at you -- well, not entirely.

NICKY KILO – “Cindy’s fucking *raw*, man! The real revolutionary shit!”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – That’s… not an answer.

YOU – “O-kay, great. Good for Cindy.” [Push your hand to the throbbing vein above your eye.] “So -- Kilo, what did you -- how can I help?”

NICKY KILO – “Is Officer Du Bois there?”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Oh, for fuck’s…!

YOU – “No. He’s not. You can tell me what you need, or you can hang up. I don’t give a shit.”

JUDIT MINOT – Tiredly, she stretches out one leg, knocks her foot against yours, and whispers Don’t be an asshole.

YOU – [Nod at her without looking up from the paperwork mausoleum that is your desk.]

NICKY KILO – “All right, J-Heron, all right. Keep your tits on.” 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – What the -- Keep your -- That doesn’t even make sense!

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Wrong: it does, and it’s *brilliant*. Keep your tits on, shitkid is now a thing you are going to say.

NICKY KILO – “I called ’cause I wanted to ask, what do you do after you stop fucking up?”

REACTION SPEED [Trivial: Success] – … That’s what he was going to ask *Harry*?!

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Come on: you haven’t stopped fucking up, either.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – True. You just keep going in spite of it.

NICKY KILO – “Like, you gotta remember, I stopped using --”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – You could hardly forget: you’re the one who did the bureaucratic dick-sucking required to get a place in a rehab program that’s both fully subsidised and *not shit*. 

YOU – [Fidget with the phone’s spiral cord.] “Yep.”

NICKY KILO – “-- and drinking --” 

YOU – “Mm-hmm.” [Fidget some more, ignoring Jude’s Stop that side-eye.]

NICKY KILO – “-- and lying to my gram, and… I mean, I only ever stole that one MC, and I crashed it like, basically right away, so it kinda doesn’t count.” 

YOU – [Twang yourself in your stupid face with the stupid cord, making Judit sigh, then leave it the fuck alone.] “No, Nicky, it *definitely* counts.”

NICKY KILO – “I’m still smoking hemp, though,” he continues, blithely ignoring you. “But not for fun, I swear. For, like, pain management and shit.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Unfortunately, there is no “pain management and shit” exemption in the laws you solemnly swore to uphold; fortunately, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for your failure to act on any information you may or may not receive.

YOU – “Sorry? I missed that. My phone’s *total crap*.”

NICKY KILO – “Man, the besmerties are right: you guys really are the saddest fuckin’ gang in Revachol.” 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – What? Your *solemn brotherhood* is no mere gang .

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – It is. It doesn’t have to be, but it is.

NICKY KILO – “I said I’M STILL SMOKING HEMP, BUT LIKE, FOR PAIN AND SHIT. You get it that time?”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Did *you* get it?! Half the god-damned *wing* would’ve got it if they hadn’t clock-punched themselves out of earshot.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – Jude, whose mouth-covering hand fails to muffle her full-body laughter, clearly heard.

JUDIT MINOT – She slightly raises her voice. “Nicky, I always love it when we get to talk with you.”

NICKY KILO – “Hey, it’s New Lady! She’s way nicer than you, man.”

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – Surely that ought to be *Officer* New Lady, at the very least.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – There are no words to express how astronomically far down “uses correct titles” is on your list of Nicky-related concerns; “the unit’s social workers have stopped taking my calls since my drunk, worthless bum of a partner *beat up a civilian over a broken clipboard* , so *I’m* your social worker now” handily eclipses it. 

NICKY KILO – “Anyway, Jarçean, now that I’m not doing fuckup things… what *am* I supposed to do?”

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Huh. That’s… actually a good question.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] – With an easy answer: keep going.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – And working.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – And taking care of others.

LOGIC – Those are *your* answers, as far as you have any. They won’t necessarily be right for Nicky.

YOU –

1. [Just admit that you don’t know.]
2. [Drama 10: Medium] [Pretend your answers are *the* answers.] (Lie.)

YOU – “I don’t know, Nic -- Kilo. I don’t think it’s a one-phone-call kind of thing.” [Remember the god-damned Cop-Off lurking in your future like a turd in a public toilet.] “Pretty sure next week is going to be a shitshow over here, but if you can wait til the week after, we can meet up and talk about it then?”

NICKY KILO – “Yeah… yeah, that’d be good.” He sighs. “And hey, you don’t actually have to call me Kilo, okay? Like, I kind of don’t even want you to -- it’s more like, I just wanted to see if I could get you to do it once.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] – His voice sounds wobbly and thin, like he needs to take a deep breath.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – He’s anxious, and no wonder: what do you do with what’s left of your life is scary shit.

YOU – “Well, you did. Make sure you brag to Cindy about it. And get some rest, okay?” 

NICKY KILO – “Dude, you don’t *brag* to Cindy. She’ll fuckin’ eat you alive. You gotta, like, casually drop that shit into the conversation, you know?”

JUDIT MINOT – She stands and drops your coat on your desk. 

YOU – “Yeah. I’m… hanging up now, Nicky.”

NICKY KILO – “Okay, okay. ’Night, J-Heron. Thanks. Tell Officer Du Bois I said hi… and tell New Lady she’s way cooler than you.”

YOU – “Whoa-whoa, hey, wait a second. Now she’s nicer *and* cooler?”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Annnd he already hung up.

YOU – [Hang up, too. Put on your coat. Try not to sulk.]

JUDIT MINOT – “Don’t sulk, Vic.” 

She hands you your bag with a tired smile and -- God, she must be wrecked -- barely argues when you take her bag and help her into her coat, too. “Now let’s get out of here, okay? You promised you’d take me home.”

YOU – You did -- and you will.

Chapter Text

Thursday 8 March ’51

HARRY’S SHITHOLE APARTMENT – You and Judit stand at the closed door, shivering in the late-winter night. 

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Crisp air. Cold that hurts your ears. The sharp, clean smell of coming snow.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Out here, at least. In there? Eau de unwashed, flammable drunk in a maelstrom of pilfered garbage.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Smells don’t ooze out of closed doors. 

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – No, but *miasmas* do.

YOU –  [Knock.] 

HARRY’S SHITHOLE APARTMENT – Silence. Sullen, bum-infested silence.

JUDIT MINOT – “Maybe he --.”

YOU – [Knock again, but pissier.] “Hey! Shitkid! Did you die, or does it just smell like it?”

JUDIT MINOT – “*Jean!*” 

YOU – “What?” 

HARRY’S SHITHOLE APARTMENT – The silence remains, but now, you’re sure it’s listening.

JUDIT MINOT – “Just… remember that we’re here to check on him, okay?”

YOU – [Stare, blankly.]

JUDIT MINOT – “I mean, don’t be an asshole.”

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – You’re definitely an asshole.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Yes -- but you know what she means.

YOU – “... Okay.”

YOU AND JUDIT MINOT – [Share a sidelong smile. Just a little one. Feel a cautious universe unfurl in your chest.]

HARRY’S SHITHOLE APARTMENT – “B’where?” Then, emphatically: “*Pleurrgh*.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – That’s… not the apartment.

JUDIT MINOT – “Harry?”

YOU – “Open the door, shitkid. It’s us.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “No’s’not.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – What?

YOU – “What?”

HARRY DU BOIS – “S’not *us*.” His voice wobbles, petulant as a child’s. “I’m here. You’re not.”

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – Even like this, he knows you’re his partner.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – And feels too ashamed to invite you in -- he truly regrets how he acted today.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Great. He can start by apologising to Jude and maybe, you know, *rewinding time* so he won’t hurt her in the first place.

YOU – “Right. That’s -- very astute, or *deep* or -- whatever. Just open the god-damn door.”

HARRY’S SHITHOLE APARTMENT – Wounded silence.

JUDIT MINOT – “Harry? Are you okay?”

YOU – “He’s *fine*. Enough.” [Search your coat pockets for the spare key.] 

HARRY DU BOIS – “It’s not locked.”

YOU – “What do you mean, it’s --.”  [Try the handle. Open the very much not-locked door.]

INTERFACING [Trivial: Success] – Shit.

YOU – [Step into the apartment once you’ve kicked away enough empty bottles, sticky Frittte bags, and dirty clothes to be confident you’re standing on the god-damned floor.] “Nice work, Harry. Very fucking secure.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “This place doesn’t *need* to be secure. No one wants to party with me.”

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – Sounds like he’s in bed.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – He couldn’t be anywhere else. Harry’s hoarded so much shit that there isn’t room for *him*, much less would-be partiers -- even his godawful taped-together couch is buried on this hellscape of a seabed.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Trivial: Success] – Also, the stench is eye-watering. 

LOGIC – No one would stay in here on purpose unless they were cleaning it out… or maybe demolishing the building.

ENDURANCE [Legendary: Success] – You’d stay.

VOLITION [Heroic: Success] – Yeah -- but you are NOT cleaning this up. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Judit didn’t follow you in, by the way.

YOU – [Part the crap-seas until you reach the crap-bed, where you toss yet more crap overboard until there’s a space where you can sit.] “Really, Harry? No one wants to come to your *artfully curated* trash barge to get shitfaced and probably tetanus? I don’t believe it!” 

HARRY DU BOIS – “No one wants to party with me outside, either.” He sits up. It’s hard for him -- so effortful that it’s hard to watch. Each movement sends layers of thin, dirty linen to the floor. 

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – Like whale fall.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Hey! We don’t have time for *poetry*, homo.

CONCEPTUALISATION – We do. 

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – We also have time to not be a dick to ourselves.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – And to wonder why Judit’s still in the doorway. 

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Also-also, you’re losing your god-damned mind. You’re not “we”. *Harry* is “we”. *You* keep your volumetrically compressed shit together.

VOLITION – Goddamn right you do!!

YOU – “That’s because you smell like a dockside dumpster. One with terminal swamp-ass.”

JUDIT MINOT – “O-kay.”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Oh no.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] – Remember when she told you to not be an asshole? Like, just now?

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – *She* clearly remembers.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – She’s outside because of *you*.

JUDIT MINOT – With the silent precision of a sniper, she waves at Harry -- not, despite your proximity to him, at you -- with her uninjured arm. 

YOU – “Judit --.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Hi, Harry.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “I’m sorry.” He half-sobs, grabs a handful of bedding and -- ah, *fuck* this guy! -- blows his nose. *Wetly*. 

YOU – “Judit, I didn’t mean --.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “I’m sorry, Jude. About your arm. I’m so sorry.” 

JUDIT MINOT – “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to, and… accidents happen, sometimes.”

HARRY DU BOIS – He buh-huh s a few damp, shaking buh-huh s. “I’m such a piece of shit.”

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – Look at this asshole. All this pain he’s in -- it’s real, yeah, but it’s not about what he did to Judit. It’s not about her at all. It’s about *him* -- him and his one-man self-pity circle jerk. 

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] – You should’ve killed him.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – No. You’re just mad at him. If you killed everyone you were mad at, you’d be dead.

JUDIT MINOT – “You’re not a piece of shit, Harry. You just had a bad day.” 

YOU – [Watch her clumsily light herself a cigarette as you sit there like a fucking idiot doing an impression of a cement bollard, which is also a fucking idiot.] 

JUDIT MINOT – “I’m going to shut the door now, Harry. But talk to Jean, okay? He’s worried about you.” She closes the door. Smoke from her cigarette floats at the threshold. 

YOU – [Keep nailing that bollard impression.]

EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] – Something in what you said -- or maybe how you said it -- deeply moves her. You’re certain of it.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Success] – We, uh, didn’t say anything.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Host in Heaven, you lunatic, would you -- there is no *“we”*. It’s YOU. YOU didn’t say anything. And no -- YOU, you lovesick patch of space debris, did not say *shit*. What you DID is this:

PNEUMA (Exhale) [Challenging: Success] – Shit, *shit*, I fucking -- I’m sorry, Jude. For being mean to Harry after I told you I wouldn’t, for failing you, for being another fucking shitty part of your shitty fucking day. For knowing it’ll happen again because I’m… like that. For being *like that*. For *being*, really, which is -- Host in Heaven, Jean, shut UP. Who are you even talking to? You’re a human fucking disasterclass.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – … Ah. That would certainly explain this:

PNEUMA (Inhale) – It’s all right, mon bien-aimé, just… breathe? I know you’re *like that*. You were too much *like that* just now, and it pissed me off, so I closed the door to have a smoke. But that doesn’t mean you failed me, Jean. How could -- what you feel for me, how much you want to do right by me, is such a part of your soul that by loving you *I feel it in mine*. So breathe, okay? But maybe not through your nose. I don’t want you to get tetanus.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] – You have never before experienced, simultaneously, such intense desires to belly laugh and full-body cry.

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Success] – … But you’re here for Harry, who’s eyeing you from a blotched, bloated face saturated in -- well, tears. And Commodore Red. Also, misery. -- so you don’t do either.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – You’re not sure that counts as a win.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] – No: you’re sure it doesn’t. 

LOGIC – How long can you keep warping yourself around him?

ENDURANCE – For as long as it takes.

LOGIC – To…?

ENDURANCE – … I don’t know. I don’t do raisons d’être. I just *keep going*.

EMPATHY – Maybe you’ve done all you can do, for now. Maybe it’s okay if you rest.

ENDURANCE – If I… I don’t understand. 

VOLITION [Legendary: Success] – Luckily, you don’t *have* to understand, because *you don’t exist*. There’s just one “I” in here, so pipe *down*, okay? This is a psyche, not a gods-damned Kedran chorus!

EMPATHY – What’s wrong with a Kedran chorus?

DRAMA [Easy: Success] – He-*llo*, did my little ears hear somebody mention the theee-ah-ter?!

VOLITION – What’s -- why --

LOGIC – Wait. Is he a xenophobe?

EMPATHY – Is *who* a xenophobe?

VOLITION – Whoa-whoa-whoa, none of -- some of my best friends are --.

LOGIC – Him.

VOLITION – THAT CAME OUT WRONG

DRAMA – Oooh, look who doth protest too much. This is going to be de*li*cious.

EMPATHY – Right?

VOLITION – What

HARRY DU BOIS – “I don’t want to get better.”

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] – Hurricane eye. Salt wind. Silent, hair-raising ripples traverse your soul. 

PNEUMA (INHALE) [Medium: Success] – Jean, what’s -- should I come in?

VOLITION – Oh god. *Yes*.

HALF LIGHT – NO.

PNEUMA (EXHALE) – I want that Harry doesn’t maybe if I can --.

HARRY DU BOIS – “I want to get worse.”

HALF LIGHT – You have thirty seconds to decide where to throw up.

VOLITION – No. Breathe.

YOU – [Breathe.] “I thought I wanted to get worse too, shitkid, but you hauled my sorry ass out of bed, and you saved my -- just let me return the favour, okay?” 

HARRY DU BOIS – “It wasn’t a *favour*.” He laughs in ugly, malt-reeking gulps. “I *needed* you.” 

HALF LIGHT – Twenty.

YOU – [Breathe.] “Okay. I get it. Tequila Sunset needs no man -- and he *definitely* doesn’t need some pissant satellite officer, yeah? But Harry, my partner, *he* needs --.”

HARRY DU BOIS – “You. Don’t. *Need*. Me.”

HALF LIGHT – Ten.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You don’t.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – You do.

YOU – “I need -- we need to be in Martinaise tomorrow, *early*, so we’ll come here and we’ll -- we’ll pick you up, okay?”

HARRY DU BOIS – He’s crying. *Real* crying -- the most awful, most genuine kind.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – You would know.

HALF LIGHT – Five.

YOU – [Breathe, deep, and hope to God the sound comes out. ] “Almost done, Jude.”

HALF LIGHT – Four.

JUDIT MINOT – “Okay.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] – Host and all His angels bless her for telling you with that single syllable that she’s calm, she’s prepared --. 

HALF LIGHT – Three.

YOU – “Harry, I -- you’re my *partner*. I can’t let you --.”

HALF LIGHT – Two.

HARRY DU BOIS – “You can. Save yourself.”

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] – It’s a direct order -- not a request. 

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] – He loves you, and he knows you, and he knows orders are the only way to make you leave.

YOU – [Stand up.] “Okay, I’ll… see you tomorrow, Harry, so --.”

HALF LIGHT – One.

HARRY DU BOIS – “Fuck off, Jean.”

YOU – You’ll give yourself this: you fuck off. You fuck off, and you don’t allow yourself to retch -- outside, on a dredged-from-the-trash Shitkid Special of a mat that says BLESS THIS MESS! in a font arguably improved by vomit -- until Jude closes the door behind you.

*

THOM AND JUDE’S BEDROOM – After this years-long day, you are by some miracle clean, and full, and *warm*, and in bed with not one but two -- two! -- people you like, and like to fuck, who also like (!) and like to fuck (!!) you. 

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Failure] – … And, because you are still you, no one is going to fuck anyone because all three of you are too god-damned old and too god-damned tired.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Oh, come on: sleep is *sexy*. 

VOLITION [Challenging: Failure] – No. It’s not, but -- ah, fuck it. You’re too tired to argue.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – That’s not a bad thing. It’s letting you enjoy the not-sex-but-so-what cocoon that surrounds you.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] – Bare skin; clean sheets; Judit’s lotion; Thom’s hair product.

YOU – “... What’s that?”

THOM MINOT – “Mousse. Probably shouldn’t bother with it now, I’ll just squash the curls the second I hit the pillow, but….” He shrugged. “Force of habit, I guess: if shower, then fingercomb and mousse.”

YOU – [Nod, slowly, pretending you knew what that meant.]

JUDIT MINOT – “You *are* a moose. Move it, Thom, I can’t reach my toothbrush.”

THOM MINOT – “No can do, babe. I can’t hear short people.”

JUDIT MINOT – “Host in -- I’m not even short!”

JUDIT MINOT – “Did you set the alarm?”

YOU – “Huh?”

THOM MINOT – “Yup.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Failure] – Oops.

JUDIT MINOT – “For five-thirty?”

THOM MINOT – Like an embarrased boulder, he rolls away from you --

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – Boo!

THOM MINOT – -- turns on the light, fiddles with the clock, turns off the light, and rolls back into place.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Yesss.

THOM MINOT – “... Yup?” 

JUDIT MINOT – “Merci, mon poumon.”

THOM MINOT – He reaches across you to rub her shoulder. “The fuck you gettin up at five-thirty for?”

JUDIT MINOT – “There’s a body. We have to go to Martinaise.”

RHETORIC [Challenging: Failure] – Later, you will look back at the quality of Thom’s silence -- even here, in the dark, it has a shape; a texture you would, were you not so astronomically tired, let your mind’s restless hands explore -- and wonder how you miss that There’s a body concerns him, but it is nothing -- *nothing* -- to what follows We have to go to Martinaise.

THOM MINOT – “... You definitely have to go?”

JUDIT MINOT – She faces you and Thom, half-assedly supporting herself on one elbow; you roll onto your back so you can see them both. “I don’t think the body will take itself down from the tree, my love.”

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success] – You can feel threads from conversations past -- some long, *long* before your time -- twang ing around you.

THOM MINOT – “I know, but -- there’s no one else who can… it has to be you two?”

JUDIT MINOT – She doesn’t say anything. Up close like this with her face above you, her breath warm on your cheek, it’s a not-saying that seems very, very loud.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – He’s worried about her. She’s worried about him. Say something comforting.

YOU – “The 57th is already there, Thom. For all we know, we’ll show up just in time for them to say they’ve solved the case, found the killer, and fucked our moms, so all we’ll have left to do in Martinaise is flip those harbour fascists the double bird and gun it back home.”

JUDIT AND THOM MINOT – Each of them has one hand on your chest. Slowly, their fingers intertwine -- separate -- stroke your shoulders, your abs -- intertwine. 

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Whatever’s happening, you didn’t make it worse. 

LOGIC [Easy: Success] – You didn’t make it better, either.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Story of your life.

THOM AND JUDE’S BEDROOM – Drifting in and out of consciousness, you sleep -- alone, together -- in the North Jamrock dark. You hold each other. You fuck, a little, after all. And when the alarm sounds before dawn; when you and Judit dress in the dark; when Thom brings each of you a mug of nova-hot coffee, you feel -- not hope. Not exactly. 

VOLITION [Godly: Success] – But you might.