People are crazy and times are strange [ open ]

[inequal]

WHO: Liam (Owen) [inequal] and ANYONE.
WHAT: Somebody else got struck by the memory rehab bug, thinks his name is something else. Now Liam's trying to deal with the idea that he might have his head screwed on wrong without being able to tell.
WHERE: All around the Cave, notably: the Bar; the Supply Depot; near the Living Quarters; a secluded corner.
WHEN: April 10th (Tuesday) through April 12th (Thursday).
NOTES: What the hell is consistent narrative name, do not even get me started on trying to figure out which one to use. IT'S JUST "HE" AND "HIM" OKAY.

His Tuesday started out simply enough, some murky memory (or was it a dream?) floating up to remind him of a white room and then... nothing, really. Probably just made it up. No, his day really started with a buzz in his head and a request for his husband to turn off the bloody overhead light, if you please, George.

That was his first sign that something was wrong. It didn't feel wrong, but the sheer comfort with which he identified as Owen Bates (not... Liam McNally or whatever name it was that George—Ken?—said it should be) gave him a shudder if he stopped to think about it for too long. Exactly why he immediately sought out Arthur Stieber at the Supply Depot and was told to swing by later that night after work.

Fine, whatever. He could wait another few hours. So he went with his spouse to the Bar and spent the next few hours ignoring the twitch in his foot and fingers. Scaring off the customers would not do, even if the only exchange he cared about tended to be the conversational sort and nothing to do with money.

He was out like a bolt by closing time and off to retrieve the pack of cigarettes as Arthur had promised. Horrible habit to get back into when he was still not physically addicted, but the psychological effects were already ingrained deeply enough. It wasn't until Wednesday that he had the chance to secret himself into an underdeveloped crevice on the west side of the Cave and finally light up. Hopefully the smoke would dissipate before anyone else caught wind of it, because despite popular belief, he did not try to bury himself in as much trouble as possible at all times. George Ken George would likely be worried and that kept him from lighting a second despite the urge.

The rest of Wednesday proceeded as normal... what accounted for normal in this place, anyway. Some exploration in the day and work in the afternoon, all the way to After Hours. Thursday found him escaping to the crevice once again, lighter and cigarette clutched in hand, then off to the Depot again with George to retrieve more rations.

It was perhaps the least exciting lifestyle he had indulged in for nearly sixty years. Nevertheless, Owen could not stop the dread coiling in his gut that the other shoe was primed just perfectly to drop any day now.

Comments

Wednesday

[tartanisstylish]

Once again, Aziraphale was walking. He seemed to be doing nothing else these days, and although ordinarily he did enjoy a stroll, this was not the nicest scenery, and also he had been a lot in the last day. He was not one to sulk, but honestly, his feet hurt. Which was in itself a new experience.

All around him he saw people with anxiety etched in their faces, a few with deep frowns of confusion. He was becoming more and more displeased with what he saw, although he knew better than to question it, for the moment at least. He'd do more good once he got to the blasted City.

But there was something within him that could not help reaching out to those who (he, at least, felt) needed assistance, and so it was that on the second day he smelt smoke and stopped in his tracks. It's none of your business, he scolded himself, but he was a busybody and he well knew it, so he wasn't entirely surprised to find himself peering into a crevice in the Cave's wall.

His heart sank. He hated seeing people look so distressed.

"Are you all right?" he asked kindly, unable to avoid breathing in the smoke. It sank and settled heavily at the back of his throat.

[inequal]

He coughed. Someone finding him in the crevice had been the last thing Owen expected, and the startle was enough for him to choke on the heated smoke, sending him into a small fit. The coughs themselves weren't bad, but the triggering memory—lack of breath, horrible pain in his side, the smell of blood and dirt and gunfire—caught him off-guard and he continued to gasp even after the smoke had been expelled.

For what it was worth, he tried to wave Aziraphale off as if it were nothing. Go back to your routine, nothing to see here, just a man trying to remember how lungs worked and not recall the instant of his own death. Completely normal happenstance!

[tartanisstylish]

"Oh!" Aziraphale waved his hands with a typical amount of ineffectuality when the man started coughing, then pulled himself together and slapped him on the back. He had never actually slapped someone on the back before, never having had this close of personal contact with people who actually breathed, but he felt he did an acceptable job.

"I'm really very sorry," he muttered over and over again as he whacked Owen on the back. "Really, truly sorry."

[inequal]

The slap forced him to reach out and balance himself against the wall, but the physical jolt at least helped snap him out of the rising pool of panic. Owen closed his eyes momentarily, then forced himself to look Aziraphale in the eye, spare hand going out to snatch the other man's.

"Quite all right, mate," he assured. It wasn't, nothing was, but that wasn't this poor sap's fault. "Just got me off guard."

[tartanisstylish]

Aziraphale ducked down a bit, trying to get a better look at the man. "Are you sure? You're all red in the face." He smiled wryly. "I really was trying to make sure you were all right, you know, not trying to kill you."

As he spoke, he briefly considered what that must have been like. He was still getting used to the idea of breathing. Last night he had briefly forgotten he was doing it, only to find that his body had entirely taken over. It was automatic. So when it went wrong it had to be truly terrifying.

Tuesday

[whowillsaveyou]

The Doctor was growing accustomed to the place. It wasn't really difficult. He found himself in unusual situations often enough that adjusting was farily simple, really, and while he wasn't at all convinced that he was William Olsen, he took to the whole experience as one of intrigue, something worth investigating. This, of course, meant speaking to people. At least he could hide himself away in his room when he felt the need for seclusion, or the library, where he spent most of his time studying.

While he wasn't much of a drinking man, the bar seemed as good a place as any to find people to speak with. One of the better places, perhaps, since there weren't many places to just hang around and be social. Then again, just because you were at a bar didn't mean you were open to conversation.

He picked his way through to the counter and leaned against it, observing the room and its patrons with interest. Unlike most, the Doctor didn't look thoroughly lost and confused - in fact, he looked quite chipper, smiling pleasantly with his head held high.

He gave a wave to someone who looked like they worked here. "Just some water, if you don't mind. Do you have ice?" He couldn't imagine the place not having ice, but even the simplest question was a good way to gauge a person's receptiveness to conversation.

[inequal]

Tap-tap... tap-tap... tap—oh, a customer. Putting a thing smile on, Owen retrieved a glass from under the counter. The gentleman's age didn't deter him from anything, although it did certainly start the gears turning in his head — he was about George's age... so why did his husband look so much younger while this man did not?

"We'd be outta luck as a pub if we didn't have ice," he confirmed. No need to make it obvious he wasn't paying due attention. "Assuming you want it in your drink, aye?"

[whowillsaveyou]

The Doctor chuckled, amusement in his tone as he spoke. "What else would I use it for? I suppose if I had a nasty bump on the head it would be of some use, but I haven't. Yes, in the drink, if you would." He offered a pleasant smile, then glanced about the bar.

"Not the sort of thing I'd expect to find in a place designed for reintigration. Classrooms, videos of what life was like in the city, perhaps training videos..." He trailed off, giving the bartop a few taps with his knucles as he turned back to the man. "But you have no interest in the musings of an old man, have you? You work here, then? Serving drinks and speaking with customers?"

[inequal]

Little cubes of ice went into the cup (thankfully without splashing any of the water out of it) and Owen handed it over to the customer before leaning his hip on the counter. "You'd be surprised at what I'm interested in." It was an easy reply, amusement colouring his tone at the assumption. Then again, a twenty-six year old body wasn't doing him any favours at appearing his real age. No helping it.

"Basically, yeah. It's not been as active as you'd think, but maybe alcohol just isn't the cure all it was made out to be in my day," he replied with a hint of, Who would have thunk?

[whowillsaveyou]

One brow quirked, the Doctor gave the man an amused look as he took his drink. "Would I?" he asked. "Oh, thank you," he added, almost as an after thought. It wouldn't do to be impolite. He took a tentative sip of the water, smiled, and set the glass down. It was water, chilly with the ice, and there wasn't much to say about water.

"Ah, well." The Doctor paused to gaze around. "I'm sure things will pick up, hmm?" Perhaps. Maybe. "If not, well, that just makes your job easier, doesn't it? Or do you prefer having a lot to do?" Some did. The Doctor certainly didn't mind being busy.

Thursday

[tactical_alert]

Malcolm liked to take his time while he was out and about on the job, whenever he was, to do more exploring of the cave. He'd gotten enough in during his first week that he was familiar with the general locations, but the details mattered a bit more now. Besides, it wasn't like he was allowed around any emergency situations. (Did those ever happen? He supposed the possibility was always there.)

Which was how he all but stumbled upon the little crevice in the wall with the bit of cigarette smoke coming out of it, and also the person doing the smoking. The bartender, if he was correct.

Duty demanded he act on the situation. But Malcolm wasn't exactly loyal to the guard force. "You realize that's contraband, sir, don't you?"

[inequal]

Fortunately for the both of them, he had not been actively pulling at the cigarette and didn't choke on the resulting smoke. That did nothing to add to the fortune of the rest of the situation. Owen recognized the uniform, the rusty colouration of a member of the guard force.

Instinct took over for logical action and he dropped the butt, moving to stamp it out immediately. "What contraband would that be?" he tried, giving a plainly nervous smile as if to hide any evidence of wrongdoing.

[tactical_alert]

Really? He was going to go for that? Might as well just own up to it. "The one you just dropped. Waste of a perfectly good cigarette, but then again, I never took up the habit." He might end up saying there was some sort of security breach around the supply depot. If he cared enough to say anything at all. It didn't really make that much sense to him. If they allowed alcohol, why not a smoke?

"Now, if I was a Worker, I'd probably be giving you a warning, or a citation, or any sort of nonsense that involves being caught with contraband. Why it is is beyond me, really. But as a Sleeper, I'll just say sorry to disturb you and be on my merry." Malcolm gave a quick glance around. "Nice little spot here. Hopefully nobody else stumbles on it."

[inequal]

At least Owen didn't offer Malcolm a cigarette in order to give the habit a shot? He was still getting used to the fact that anyone who stumbled past would be able to see and interact with him without Owen's leave to do so. Completely disorientating and his number one excuse for the shoddy cover-up.

Nervous hands drifted to his lighter instead and began fiddling with the lid as he looked Malcolm over more closely. Of all the reactions he expected, this was not one of them. "No offence meant, mate, but that's some bloody useful incompetence you're flaunting there." There was no reason for Owen to compliment the man who was so openly snubbing his work... even if the expression belied the words. Make no mistake: he was thankful for the reprieve.

[tactical_alert]

"This isn't exactly my job," Malcolm scoffed. "Oh, sure, yes, it's what my job supposedly is in this wretched cave, but that hardly counts. Why should I care if you're having a smoke? Now, if someone's starting a fight, or a fire, or anything actually important, then yes, I'll step right in. Right thing to do, after all."

Tuesday

[littlealienguy]

Jonas had stayed late at the library, later then usual and it was while he was walking back to his quarters that he realized that he really should go pick up his rations for the week. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

As he approached, he saw someone else walking in the same direction and wondered if he wasn't the only one who was going to attempt to pick things up this late. He nodded to the man with a friendly smile. "Hello. Hoping they're open late too?"

[inequal]

He startled, head turning to acknowledge the man who had come up beside him. He slowed his pace to something a little less obviously rushing and let his expression twitch into a smile. "Yeah, something like that," he allowed. "Doubt they'd close before After Hours, all said."

Stieber hadn't given Owen a specific time to meet him at the depot, simply 'later tonight', so he figured allowing himself a chat wasn't going to hurt anything. It would distract him just as much as a smoke would... maybe. Hopefully.

[littlealienguy]

"One would hope but at this rate, I often don't know what to think. It's a little unsettling." It was neutral enough statement. The man was almost certainly another Sleeper and confusion was to be expected still, even so.

Jonas had picked up on the man's initial rush before he slowed down. "I'm not keeping you am I? If your in a hurry, I understand."

[inequal]

Owen hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah, I can spare a few minutes if you can. No reason to scare anyone off just for wanting a talk, yeah?" It was true; as much as he really would have preferred to vet this stranger before making an appearance to him, Owen no longer had that luxury. He would have to deal with it, and pretend as best he could that it didn't bug him.

"Unsettling is a good word for it," he added, working his way backward in the conversation. "Good word for everything right now."

[littlealienguy]

And the man was obviously unsettled, Jonas didn't need to read body language to see that. But he wanted to continue the conversation despite Jonas giving him an out. "There are so few of us awake, we can't afford to scare each other off?" He said with a small smile to hopefully lighten the mood.

"I'm Jonas." He paused then started again. "Or John. I'm afraid I haven't quite got the hang of this yet." His brain still worked too fast for him sometimes, though now to his disadvantage.

Tuesday

[antecedent]

After the issues with Liam over their names, Ken left early to go down to the bar. He was even more quiet than usual, withdrawing into himself to think about what was going on. There was the temptation to drink, but he wasn't going to do that now, especially since something had happened to Liam. No, he'd just be quiet and do his work and when Liam came in, maybe they would talk, but part of Ken really didn't want to know just how much of his husband's mind had been messed with by the people running this place.

[inequal]

Owen arrived right on time — perhaps even a few minutes late — with his expression distracted and somewhat harried. Relief blotted much of it out when he spotted George and he practically glided to the bar.

"George!" Lips quirking halfway between chagrin and self-directed amusement, he said, "You weren't at the flat when I got back... Thought you might have come here, but I didn't know for sure." The name that had slipped off his tongue didn't even occur to him just yet. While he was vexed and worried about issues with his own name, George's was simply too natural for him to second-guess.

[antecedent]

There was a quick glance up when Liam showed up, but he immediately went back to work when he heard the name he used. That was wrong and the fact that Liam didn't seem uncomfortable using George was what made things worse. If Ken was a different person, he would have pointed out how wrong it was and why can't you see it, but he wasn't that sort of person and instead just set about poking at the machinery behind the bar.

"Course I'm here. Have to work, remember?" Then his voice got quieter and he kept looking away from Liam. "Got my name wrong like yours."

[inequal]

Despite popular belief, the shock Owen felt didn't leave him cold or frozen. It felt like a painful burn sliding through his veins, air catching in his lungs as that information hit. It passed just as quickly as it had come, and Owen closed his eyes to try and keep breathing through it.

"I'm sorry," he said, once again looking at his husband with desperate earnestness. "I don't know what's happened, and I can't—it all seems right up here—" with a wave up to his temple, "—and especially down here..." His hesitated, then placed a hand over his ribcage. "It's not, though, is it? Ken?"

It was a quiet addition, unsure but hopeful. He'd gotten the correct name this time, right? They would figure out what to do about all of this. They had to. That didn't make the current moment any less disheartening.

[antecedent]

"Not right at all," he confirms gently. It's not Liam's fault he got all mixed up, after all. He wouldn't do something that would worry Ken like this, especially when he's aware how much it bothers him. No, this is something that was done to him. "Got it right this time though."

That at least gets Ken to smile a little and reach out for Liam's hand. "We'll find out what happened and see if we can fix it. And warn the other Sleepers about this."