Arknights | Not Even Into Another Eternity, Chapter 1

[veryroundbird]

Rating: Spicy
Chapter: 1/?
Words: 890
Characters: Doctor (F), Kal'tsit, Amiya, guest star moments with W
Relationships: Doctor/Kal'tsit, Kal'tsit/Theresa, Theresa/Doctor
Summary: Signing on to Babel's mission, the Doctor finds herself returning to a lot of things she thought she'd left behind, and a chance to make something new. If only it wasn't all meant to end in tragedy.

"I almost didn't recognize you," she says, finally, breaking the long silence between the two of you—now that Theresa's gone on ahead to the war room.

Kal'tsit's critical eye is, as always, incisive; and, as always, uncomfortable to be turned on you even at the best of times.^[1]

"You—" There's a long pause, as you bite down the tightness in your throat; the nails-on-chalkboard feeling of issuing words from your mouth. "You haven't changed at all."

She sniffs lightly; turns her head with her lids half-lowered, and just lets that pass over her and by her. "I admit I didn't know if my message would reach you."

You shake your head. "Whatever you paid—worth it. I know I..."

The sentence wanders off (I didn't make myself easy to find, I didn't want to see anyone, I can only barely deal with society), but she doesn't really press you. She shifts just once, from foot to foot, and then stops, like she's trying to cover the uneasy motion; the way her fingers are spread just a little bit, like she wants to do something and hasn't decided yet what.^[2]

In the end, she just clasps her hands at the small of her back, drawing herself up tall. "That child. You brought her here. She...?"

You think you know what she means to ask, and don't answer it. Instead: "...an orphan. I'm all she has." A glance up, your elbows resting on your knees. "And—she needs treatment. So. When I heard the name 'Rhodes Island'—"

"...you knew you'd be able to get her medical care. Of course." Brisk.^[3]

"Only so much anyone can do in the barrens," you say, and twiddle with the pulls on your coat. "So. Figured I might as well."

She takes a deep breath, and lets it out, like you are straining her patience to the utmost.^[4] "Fine enough. Your health?"

"Probably good as yours," you say.^[5]

Her eyes linger on you for just a little too long, though, for you to have gotten away with just that. She clicks her tongue lightly against the roof of her mouth. "I wouldn't have asked this of you, had I seen the shape you're in."

You put your tablet down next to you with a decisive clack. "What's important now... what's important now is to do what we can. Maybe... I've waited long enough."

You're sure she doesn't trust you as she studies you down the bridge of her nose. Just by your presence already, you know you've upset something precious.^[6] And—of course, nothing can ever be as it was, all those years ago. You know that.

She gives a mild tsk. "Don't push it too much. You can still scale back your involvement. This isn't for the faint of heart."

"No, it's really... really not." You lean forward, chin on your palms. "So..." No, you've thought it through. "So, there's no other way. You need people who can do what no one else can.^[7] And that's why—me. Why you sent for me."

There's a silence. And then—

"This time," she says, distantly. "This time... perhaps, there's a difference to be made. Surely..."

"I wouldn't have stayed if there wasn't."

Kal'tsit snorts, lightly. "No," she says, "I suppose you wouldn't have." But then her face softens. "So. What's the girl's name?"

"Amiya," you say, and unfold, with some effort, to your feet, stiffness having settled into your bones. "And—nngh. I'll introduce you. Someone's got to be a role model for social graces, and—you know it'll never be me."^[8]

It's disconcerting, walking with her down these halls again.^[9] For a moment, it feels like you could be transported back to a better self; a you that wasn't falling apart in a dozen different ways, whose future was bright and brilliant.

But you'll never be her again.

[1] This is not your best of times.

[2] To hold or to strangle. You could see it being either.

[3] She's mad—about several things. She knows that convincing you to come here would have been a much harder sell if you hadn't had other motives and now she is irritated that she asked you to come here at all. And also—
And also, you've realized, you've made a very large mistake.

[4] Probably you actually are. You'd lose patience with you too.

[5] This is a lie. The Oripathy's spread, creeping up in thin cracks up your chest and to your neck, which is why you're nearly covered head to toe.

[6] Oh, Kal'tsit, you should have said; you should have said. At least you could have known that one of you godforsaken drifters had found happiness.

[7] From many other people this would be prideful; you're not sure you're capable of that anymore. It's a simple statement of fact; you walked in here to see the beginnings of something that could be a winning hand, but on its own, it's just a beautiful, doomed dream. It might still be. But you can give them a chance.

[8] Even in the faded memories Kal'tsit might still have of a time when you were less of a sad hermit, you were still at least a little of a sad hermit.

[9] You'd be forgiven for losing your place; it feels like you're the only thing that's changed.