Arknights | Not Even Into Another Eternity, Chapter 2

[veryroundbird]

Rating: Spicy
Chapter: 2/?
Words: 2009
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.

Settling into Rhodes Island is—it's not hard, per se. In fact, it's so straightforward that it feels a little uncanny,¹ your footsteps settling into a familiar patter from morning to the wee hours up and down the long hallways.

At least Amiya's happy to be here. She's still a little shy,² but finally having enough of everything seems to be doing a lot of good for her. No more lessons on how to scrounge meals out of the barrens, for one thing. Warm meals, hot water, a bed of her own.

She tugs on your jacket sleeve one night, when you're seeing her off to bed. "Is this home?" she asks, peering up at you with her bright blue eyes, and you realize you have no idea what to say in response.

"Well—" You do your best to look reassuring.³ "We'll be staying here for a while. A long time, I think."

The expression on her face is still a little searching, and you know you've disappointed her. You wish—

...you wish you could say yes.⁴ So, you lean down and squeeze her hand, gently. "Well. You'll grow up, after all.⁵ When you're grown, I'm sure you'll have all kinds of ideas about where in the world you want to go that don't necessarily involve a dusty old landship."

"Ehe." It's a sleepy little laugh—contented enough that you think you managed to reassure her, even if you can't reassure yourself. "I want... I want to see it together, though..."

"I'll see what I can do," you say, quietly,⁶ and hold her hand until you're sure she's asleep—at which point you pad around every corner of the room quietly, checking for—you don't know.⁷

You know, logically, that feeling unsettled here is just a discomfort at revisiting things that you once knew in a very different context, and—well, it'd be a lie to say that Amiya's not part of that, with who she uncannily resembles.⁸ But—that's not the whole of it.

You feel like you're being watched.

[1] Not that it's terribly different from living on the road, either, among active military and mercenary personnel.

[2] Who wouldn't be, around this crew?

[3] Regrettably, your face just isn't made for that kind of expression. The best you can do is "only mildly concerned."

[4] She deserves better.

[5] She deserves better than this kind of lie, too, but it's a lie you also desperately want to believe. And you're still holding out that it may yet become the truth.

[6] Even though you don't think she'll remember your words, you can't quite bring yourself to the point of confidence when it comes to your future existence.

[7] Just to be sure. She doesn't fear the dark anymore, but you fear plenty of things.

[8] Of course love, in your hands, would be a double-edged sword.

---

The problem is that you're not sure you aren't going insane, but if you have a feeling for long enough, it tends to be right. So you take it to the one person you're certain won't dismiss you out of hand.

"You feel like you're being watched?" Theresa repeats back to you, cocking her head thoughtfully to one side and tapping an index finger against her chin.⁹

"Yes," you say, shifting lightly on your feet. A little uncomfortably; this is not the easiest thing to get into.¹⁰ "And—if it was just... anyone on the landship, I'd know who it was."¹¹

Thankfully, Theresa is one of precious few people who understands well enough why it unsettles you to not be able to pick out the source of a bad feeling. She hums lightly to herself. "Is it dangerous?"

You've thought about this one, too;¹² you frown. "...I don't think so," you say. "It's... just. I don't know why."

She threads her fingers into your hair lightly; rests her palm on the back of your neck, and for a moment, you think you see her eyes go unfocused—distant.¹³ And then she smiles down at you.

"How long has it been since someone watched over you with loving care?"

You can feel your cheeks warm,¹⁴ and you look down, abruptly. "Well—"

She laughs, gently. "Or rather, before very recently. I think it's been too long, hasn't it? I don't know what you're sensing, exactly, but..."

A quiet hum. "It feels like this place is really waking up, now that you're here,"¹⁵ she says, at last. "I can't explain the feeling further, but... I hope you find out why."

And then she pulls you fully into her arms, and—well, you can at least table the matter for a while.

[9] She sees things differently from you, an effect of... perhaps arts, perhaps just something hereditary. Something like this, which you can't begin to quantify or describe—you hope she knows better than you.

[10] "Oh, you know, it's me, your top commander, who might just be losing her grip on reality—"

[11] The unspoken "but" hangs in the air.

[12] You have to at least consider it; there's been enough spies and assassins hanging around already.

[13] Seeing, or hearing... you're not sure what. But she's searching for something, and finding it.

[14] Both out of embarrassment that your life has been so pathetic, and also additional embarrassment that you can be flustered so easily by a whisper of kindness in your direction. And also, because of her smile.

[15] Has it? To you, this place still feels like a sarcophagus.

---

Eventually you grit your teeth and go talk to Kal'tsit about it, because—as reassuring as Theresa was, there's one piece of reassurance she can't give.¹⁶

She clicks her tongue at you, but at least doesn't ask if you're sure; she knows you wouldn't ask her about something if you weren't.

"Being watched..." She shakes her head, sending a few locks of pale hair swaying. "I haven't felt such a thing, no. But—it's true that the eyes of the past are on us, here.¹⁷ Perhaps you're more sensitive to that."

The past. You'd really rather not think about that.¹⁸ "You think—" You pause, realizing your first thought is ridiculous, and frown. "We're all that's left."

Her mouth thins into an even firmer line. "There is always something that remains, Zhanchi."

You look down at your hands.¹⁹ "You don't believe in ghosts," you say, quietly.

When she speaks, she's turned her head so that you can't see her face—but you can almost hear a bittersweet smile in it, and—for a moment, her fingertips gently brush your shoulder.

"We're here, are we not?"

[16] Kal'tsit admittedly isn't inclined to be reassuring literally ever and probably won't be. Maybe you're not sure what answer you want her to give.

[17] Of course she can never cut the philosophizing. Then again, that's when you can tell she's taking it entirely seriously, so you have to appreciate it a little.

[18] Though with her around and while you're on this landship you pretty much can't escape it.

[19] For a single, jarring moment, you resent her, and your throat is thick with uncharacteristic and irrational anger-grief, that she could say that so calmly.

---

You're busy enough for another couple of weeks that, mercifully, you cannot sit down and be bothered enough by it. But there's a lull in the war, a brief time where the supplies are actually handled and the doors mostly work,²⁰ and one afternoon you set your away message and head out into the empty halls with a tactical flashlight.

The halls always feel uncomfortably empty to you, even when people are passing by. Even with all aboard it's more room than anyone here needs, and no one stops to have light watercooler chat—it's not the way of mercenaries, you suppose.²¹ Heading down into the lower levels, it hardly feels emptier—just more of the same.

Dim emergency lights flick on as you pass, illuminating... more bare metal flooring. It's barely even dusty, like you might have just left it the other day.

Even after all these years, you know the way by instinct. You know where you used to turn to pick up the absolute shit coffee from the communal pot,²² where you'd wait for a colleague in the morning, where you'd head to take a surreptitious nap.

You stand in the middle of a hallway juncture and close your eyes.

You still stand by what you told Theresa; it doesn't feel like there's danger.²³ It's more like—it feels like you could open your eyes and see these corridors full of life again, like you've just pressed pause on a video recording.

You're just about to open them when you hear it—

It's a quiet noise. But somewhere down here is the electrical hum of something still running.

[20] Mostly.

[21] Or maybe they just don't like to do it when you're around. You get the impression some of them are kind of weirded out by you.

[22] Regrettably your taste has not improved.

[23] You'd know if you needed to run, because damned if you haven't spent enough of your life running.

---

It wouldn't have been your first instinct to head here. You weren't the computer person, even if you had to be somewhat proficient—²⁴

—but you know this place. You spent enough time waiting outside the door for her to finish up.

Around you, the emergency lights flick on, running in a line around the room and causing the still-clean white of the server towers to almost glow.

And ahead of you—one of the towers is on. You would have expected the power supplies to degrade over the time they were buried, but—there's that soft green light, brightening and fading like a breath.

This feels like a dream.²⁵

"Hello?" you say.

For a moment, silence. Then—

The overhead lights flick on with such sudden brightness that it actually causes you to wince and step back; there's the chime of electronics restarting, and then, a voice.

"Welcome," she says, and you freeze.

Suddenly, you're doubting your senses again. Suddenly, it feels like you're in another time.²⁶ Like the last however-many years are a bad dream. But when you open your eyes again, you're still alone in the room.²⁷

"Welcome," the voice says again, and you take a hesitant step forward, toward the speakers. "Please log in."

"I—" Your voice comes out dry, and you take a deep breath. "I... don't..."

Your heart feels like it's stuck in your throat. "Who... are..." You scrub a hand over your face. "Who are you? You're not—"

It almost comes out accusatory. You're not her. Why are you using her voice? How dare you? Then you realize you are about to yell at a computer, and drag your hands down your face. "System diagnostics."

"System diagnostics are only available to administrators. Please log in at the available terminal."

Goddammit. "Output system name."

"System identifier: PRTS.²⁸ Please log in to continue."

She—

Your hand hovers in the air. She—

What Kal'tsit said echoes in your head. There is always something that remains. Did she know about this?²⁹ But—

—but, you put your hand down on the palm scanner.

"Biometrics recognized. Welcome home, Dr. Lau."

When you notice the tears on your cheeks, you're not sure if it's from grief or relief.

[24] You can make a mean spreadsheet, you'll admit that.

[25] You're not entirely sure it isn't.

[26] The last time you saw her; the fading warmth of her hand in yours. What she promised you—a promise you're still not sure is even possible to fulfill. Panic and terror and anguish.

[27] You can at least depend on the security of knowing that some things are definitely too good to be true, for you.

[28] Oh, of fucking course.

[29] With her, it's hard to say; that's a woman with an incredible poker face. If she did, though—maybe she was trying to do you a kindness. To give you back one small thing.