Not all of them, now that you mention it. If you can call John Watson or any of his associates, I'll reach out to Hawkeye. Those are the last two to check with.
[and if neither of them have any answers? that's when they're going to need to start truly worrying.]
[great. he's pretty sure that's the clinic with the robot. Gaeta grimaces, but reminds himself he only has to talk to Dr. Watson -- and for Tayrey, he'd even hold a clipped conversation with the robot, too, if he had to.]
Copy that. Give me two minutes.
[he breaks off their call and pings Dr. Watson on his sending stone. the promised two minutes later, his voice pitched with fresh worry -- ]
[a tinge of relief] All right. Outside the library? I'll be there in ten.
[the calculations are second nature: it's a good pain day, he's reasonably well-rested, and he's moving faster overall since he got his new leg. if it takes him longer than ten minutes, it won't be by much.]
[she's outside on time, leaned against the wall and half staring into space, trying to talk herself down from jumping to conclusions like the demons took Tayrey physically to work off her debt, or other things. there's a reason. there's always a reason. only when Gaeta gets very near does she snap herself out of it, greeting him with a nod.]
Thanks for being willing to come. If something's happened, it'd probably reassure her to see us both there.
[to know she could count on them both in a crisis, to know she was searched for in her absence.]
With the disclaimer that I haven't met too many, every demon I've met so far is selfish, double-dealing, and always on the lookout to make you regret your choice. Whatever fair deal you think you're getting, you're always the loser. I've been contemplating how to break into the hells, ever since Tayrey told me about this, in case someone needs to go there and destroy the contract.
I haven't met any, and that's the impression I got, too.
[someone is still clueless that Efrain was in charge of the worst karaoke night ever back in March! at the rest, he throws Fever a slightly startled look]
That's actually possible? Uh, breaking into the hells, I mean?
Yeah, if you figure out the right method. I mean, demons can come here and go back, so there's a method to travel between realms, right? All you'd have to do would be to somehow hijack it for yourself.
[she shrugs.]
That makes it sound easier than it is, but if it's for one of my friends? I'll figure it out.
Look, ah... hells, magic, demons, that's not exactly my skill set. Not like physical fighting is either. But if you need any backup I could provide, tell me. I'll be there.
[there's something heartfelt in that, even more so when she looks at him.]
That matters more than any knowledge. Whatever comes, we can figure it out - just as long as we keep going. For her.
[she can explain all these as best she can over time, but what matters is being willing to dive into the unknown, into horrors untold, and having others willing to slog through it all for a goal.]
[Gaeta nods. that's where he's at his best, he thinks. a larger cause. point him at a goal bigger than himself, and so long as he believes in it, he will jump to the ends of the worlds -- and beyond -- to ensure it succeeds.
he hopes to the gods this is just idle talk, and that Tayrey's all right. they'll get to her house; find her laid up with the flu, maybe, sleeping through all her calls. she'll be bewildered, and probably a little cranky that they dropped by with no warning, but fine. they'll laugh about it at poker night when she's better.
it's not self-delusion to hope for the best for a close friend, is it?
they keep walking, slow but steady. Gaeta doesn't say much else en route. when his leg starts to ache, he pointedly ignores it.]
[there's the house, and Fever just barely stops herself from breaking into a run - the expression on her face is that of a hound forced to stay at heel, and her eyes flick over the windows instead. no movement she can see. it's quiet, as it might be.
finally, they're up at the front, and Fever wastes no time rapping on the door, firm knocks to hopefully get her attention.
Tayrey, if you don't answer within the next twenty seconds, I'm going to unlock your door by force.
[that, called out, feels like enough warning. with no response forthcoming, Fever pulls out the letter opener in her pocket, crouching down to work at the lock. it's not magic, so she doesn't fear it blowing up in her face - it just needs to be jostled loose enough to slide free. ugh, she should have been practicing this.]
[there's no answer, and Fever feels a certainty creep over the back of her neck. the last time she felt like this, it was gazing into a bloodied, broken pod, and a vision was on the edges of her mind.
the lock gives, jostled into working. she turns the door handle, and opens it.
silence. she doesn't want to cross the threshold, but she will if he can't make himself go.]
[he tries to tell himself again: you're winding yourself up over nothing. there is no material difference between a house where a person has only stepped out for an errand, and one where the person has vanished altogether. it's an empty room either way. it does not -- it should not -- feel as if Fever has opened the door to a tomb.
and yet.
Gaeta has spent his life buried in the rational, focused on it so intently that he lost all sense of instinct. he let hundreds of people die because of that impulse. his brain might insist there is no material difference, but his gut knows that's a lie. and if he doesn't listen to his gut for once, then Tayrey --
so he makes himself listen. his breath shakes, but he frakking listens, and steps inside the empty house.]
...
[a pause just a few feet past the threshold. a whisper:]
[she knows he's right. but there's an emotion that tears itself from her, unwanted and unknown, until it asserts itself fierce and sudden.]
No - no she's not-
[darting in behind him, unclipped from her own leash, running in, into every room. opening the doors, even to the closets, as if she'd open one and find Tayrey right there, eyes wide and confused and wondering what all the fuss was about. anywhere. even in the strangest place.
where she falters is when she sees the pack that Tayrey had for emergencies. supplies, in case of anything. there's no reason for that to not be with her, and her not to be found. she wouldn't have left it behind, she was too prepared for that.
still full.
Fever doesn't know when she sunk to the floor. and still, there's thoughts in her head - we're messing up her order, we have to put it back - and it never, never gets easier. unless she took out whatever passed for her heart and got rid of it along with every other feeling. it's the same ache that she had to bear when she wrestled that one night with the idea of never seeing her companions again.
her chest feels so full. nowhere to put any of it. no way to let it go.
[everything feels curiously distant. he registers Fever moving past him like a whirlwind, but she only seems to be moving at half speed, her voice muffled as she goes from room to room. he turns his head to look around at the sparse, utilitarian space: he's never seen it before, but it's so familiar he could instantly mark it as military. as Tayrey.
some moments pass before he realizes her muted footsteps have stopped. he wonders, in the same detached way, if she's rounded a corner and found a body. if so, it's probably good he wasn't following her. he doesn't think he could handle that happening to him again.
(Dee and Tayrey were nothing alike, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never seen his dead friend looking back at him sometimes. when they laughed; when they drank. when they commiserated about things nobody else on the damn island would ever understand.)
maybe he should move anyway. as careful as if he were walking on the beach, Gaeta moves toward where he last heard Fever.
...it's not a body, but it might as well be.
he doesn't quite hear low, anguished noise he makes as he lowers himself to the ground next to her.]
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[he's already reaching for his prosthesis to strap it back on]
What about the clinics? I can check there if you haven't yet.
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[and if neither of them have any answers? that's when they're going to need to start truly worrying.]
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Copy that. Give me two minutes.
[he breaks off their call and pings Dr. Watson on his sending stone. the promised two minutes later, his voice pitched with fresh worry -- ]
She's not there.
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[there's a slow exhale over the phone, and she decides to make the call.]
Will you come with me out to her house? If something's gone wrong, better that there's two of us.
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[not that he can do much. especially not compared to fever. but when the alternative is doing nothing at all --
that's never an alternative.]
It's, ah, it's going to take me a while to get there. But I'll be there as fast as I can.
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[she needs to not go there immediately, or she'll be there prying open the door before she can be stopped.]
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[the calculations are second nature: it's a good pain day, he's reasonably well-rested, and he's moving faster overall since he got his new leg. if it takes him longer than ten minutes, it won't be by much.]
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[she's outside on time, leaned against the wall and half staring into space, trying to talk herself down from jumping to conclusions like the demons took Tayrey physically to work off her debt, or other things. there's a reason. there's always a reason. only when Gaeta gets very near does she snap herself out of it, greeting him with a nod.]
Thanks for being willing to come. If something's happened, it'd probably reassure her to see us both there.
[to know she could count on them both in a crisis, to know she was searched for in her absence.]
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[he rubs a hand down his face]
I've -- never actually been to her house before. [way too far to walk, until pretty recently.] Could you lead the way?
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[off they go, her careful to match his pace. it's a mental exercise as much as courtesy, making herself keep breathing.]
I just don't want this to be linked to the demons. If they've laid so much as a single finger on her...
[whatever plane they're on, she'll have to break into it. the idea of not going to that extent doesn't cross her mind.]
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She didn't tell me a whole lot about the contract she made. I know she would've negotiated it well, whatever it was, but...
[that doesn't mean the demons would've. obviously. they're demons.]
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[bluntly said, as they carry on.]
With the disclaimer that I haven't met too many, every demon I've met so far is selfish, double-dealing, and always on the lookout to make you regret your choice. Whatever fair deal you think you're getting, you're always the loser. I've been contemplating how to break into the hells, ever since Tayrey told me about this, in case someone needs to go there and destroy the contract.
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[someone is still clueless that Efrain was in charge of the worst karaoke night ever back in March! at the rest, he throws Fever a slightly startled look]
That's actually possible? Uh, breaking into the hells, I mean?
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[she shrugs.]
That makes it sound easier than it is, but if it's for one of my friends? I'll figure it out.
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[a pause.]
Look, ah... hells, magic, demons, that's not exactly my skill set. Not like physical fighting is either. But if you need any backup I could provide, tell me. I'll be there.
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[there's something heartfelt in that, even more so when she looks at him.]
That matters more than any knowledge. Whatever comes, we can figure it out - just as long as we keep going. For her.
[she can explain all these as best she can over time, but what matters is being willing to dive into the unknown, into horrors untold, and having others willing to slog through it all for a goal.]
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he hopes to the gods this is just idle talk, and that Tayrey's all right. they'll get to her house; find her laid up with the flu, maybe, sleeping through all her calls. she'll be bewildered, and probably a little cranky that they dropped by with no warning, but fine. they'll laugh about it at poker night when she's better.
it's not self-delusion to hope for the best for a close friend, is it?
they keep walking, slow but steady. Gaeta doesn't say much else en route. when his leg starts to ache, he pointedly ignores it.]
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finally, they're up at the front, and Fever wastes no time rapping on the door, firm knocks to hopefully get her attention.
seconds pass. nothing.
she'll try again.]
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he returns to the front stoop to add his own staccato of knocks]
Lieutenant? You there?
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[that, called out, feels like enough warning. with no response forthcoming, Fever pulls out the letter opener in her pocket, crouching down to work at the lock. it's not magic, so she doesn't fear it blowing up in her face - it just needs to be jostled loose enough to slide free. ugh, she should have been practicing this.]
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Gaeta feels his insides curdle. he swallows, eyes fixed on the lock as Fever works. still, he tries one more time:]
Tayrey?
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the lock gives, jostled into working. she turns the door handle, and opens it.
silence. she doesn't want to cross the threshold, but she will if he can't make himself go.]
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and yet.
Gaeta has spent his life buried in the rational, focused on it so intently that he lost all sense of instinct. he let hundreds of people die because of that impulse. his brain might insist there is no material difference, but his gut knows that's a lie. and if he doesn't listen to his gut for once, then Tayrey --
so he makes himself listen. his breath shakes, but he frakking listens, and steps inside the empty house.]
...
[a pause just a few feet past the threshold. a whisper:]
She's gone.
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No - no she's not-
[darting in behind him, unclipped from her own leash, running in, into every room. opening the doors, even to the closets, as if she'd open one and find Tayrey right there, eyes wide and confused and wondering what all the fuss was about. anywhere. even in the strangest place.
where she falters is when she sees the pack that Tayrey had for emergencies. supplies, in case of anything. there's no reason for that to not be with her, and her not to be found. she wouldn't have left it behind, she was too prepared for that.
still full.
Fever doesn't know when she sunk to the floor. and still, there's thoughts in her head - we're messing up her order, we have to put it back - and it never, never gets easier. unless she took out whatever passed for her heart and got rid of it along with every other feeling. it's the same ache that she had to bear when she wrestled that one night with the idea of never seeing her companions again.
her chest feels so full. nowhere to put any of it. no way to let it go.
Tayrey's slipped away again.]
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some moments pass before he realizes her muted footsteps have stopped. he wonders, in the same detached way, if she's rounded a corner and found a body. if so, it's probably good he wasn't following her. he doesn't think he could handle that happening to him again.
(Dee and Tayrey were nothing alike, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never seen his dead friend looking back at him sometimes. when they laughed; when they drank. when they commiserated about things nobody else on the damn island would ever understand.)
maybe he should move anyway. as careful as if he were walking on the beach, Gaeta moves toward where he last heard Fever.
...it's not a body, but it might as well be.
he doesn't quite hear low, anguished noise he makes as he lowers himself to the ground next to her.]
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