(no subject)
And more time passes. Her leg starts to heal and she loses more and more of herself. She doesn't even remember her birthday by the third week. Doesn't remember what her mother looked like, her father's name. Sometimes, she can see her sister. But it's very faint.
Sarah teaches her how to use a knife. A gun. How to fight. About the future. What she 'left behind'. At the fourth, fifth week, Sarah argues with someone named Enrique. On the telephone, about money. Or a lack of money. A need for money. Because they need new papers. Extra papers. For her.
She asks Sarah for a pen. For paper. And she begins to plan. To write. Draw, from memory. A building. A bank.
And the more time progresses the further John divides himself. Separating John from John's Ghost, until he can't remember why the division is there. Doesn't feel much. It's not stable. It's not airtight. It slips in through dreams, when he's not paying attention, when he's anxious and can't find things to do. Getting out, going home, doesn't actually alleviate any of that; if anything, it makes things a great deal worse.
So while Sarah fights with Enrique, while Allison plans a bank heist, John gets into fights. He comes home morose and bruise and bleeding, but when Sarah complains he reminds her that she chastised him for letting his hand-to-hand form get weaker.
If picking fights with stupid local gang members with something to prove wasn't what she had in mind, too bad.
Before her birthday, before any of this happened, if you'd told Allison she could plan a bank heist, she'd never have believed it. Now? Now, it seems easy. Going to the bank when she's supposed to be following John. Memorizing the schedules of the guards, the tellers. Going home and lying to Sarah. To John. About what she'd seen. What she'd done.
That was easy.
For some reason it hadn't really dawned on John that Allison was supposed to be following him, until Sarah started yelling at her about one of his fights. There'd been a knife, and he was fine, but it wasn't as though his mother really needed a reason for yelling. So when she was done, off doing who knew what, John left. And when he was certain Allison wasn't following him, he followed her instead.
She didn't mind when Sarah yelled at her, at least not all the time. And she didn't think John needed her following him all the time, not when there were more important things that needed doing.
Usually, she just scoped out the bank from the outside, or stood in line during the busytimes, conveniently having "forgotten" her passbook by the time she got to the head of the line. Today, she got an ice cream cone. Wandered around the outside of the bank to check the exits and then went inside to talk to the guard on duty.
Flirt with the guard on duty. See how easy it was to distract him. Very easy.
Fortunately for John the ice cream stand was right across the street from the bank. Nice big windows and everything. So he could watch her flirt with the guard, shove that reaction down into some dark corner of his mind, and try to figure out what she was doing. Why Allison was there.
What he decided, finally, only meant that when they did get around to robbing the bank, he wasn't as shocked as his mother would be. Until then, John waited for her to come out. Waited more or less exactly where she'd spot him.
And spot him she did. Spot him and walk right up to him, confused and tilting her head. "Did you follow me?"
"Yep." And he'll fall in step with her to walk where ever they're going, but he's not going to stand here in front of God and everyone and that fucking guard to talk to her.
She smiles and waves at the guard, brightly and walks away from the bank. Towards home. Glancing at the back entrance again on the way. Noting the Brinks truck and the time of day. "You shouldn't have followed me."
"Hmm." His anger is still there, agitation at something that shouldn't matter, but it does, and here they are. Walking home. John shoves his hands deep into his pockets, ignoring the sting from his knuckles against the denim. "Why's that?"
"You interupted me. I was doing something important. Now I have to go back tomorrow, and I'll be delayed."
"Something important, right. His phone number? I wasn't going to stop you."
She eats her ice cream, pauses and gives him a weird look. "His phone number? That wouldn't be helpful."
John sighs and stares at nothing. "Whatever. What do you need?"
"Need? I don't understand." Absently offering him ice cream.
Shaking his head. "What did you need to do that I was interrupting?"
"I was gathering information. It isn't important."
"Like hell. I won't tell, if that's what you're worried about."
"I know. I trust you. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, I trust you."
"What I'm doing, I'm doing for you."
That? Doesn't make John any more comfortable. "And in this thing you're doing, how many casualties are there?"
"I don't know yet. Three at the most. None, I hope."
"Eh, fuck that." He doesn't want anyone killed in a bank heist. "She can find some other way for money."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Whatever." John's not stupid.
"Why did you follow me, if you trust me?"
"Because I was curious." That was it, really.
"Don't follow me tomorrow."
"You could fucking ask."
Another look. "I could. What could I fucking ask?"
"Not to follow you tomorrow as opposed to just telling me what to do. Like I don't get enough of that shit."
"If I asked you, would you do it?"
"Yes." Slightly irritated.
"Please don't follow me tomorrow." That's...sort of asking, isn't it?
Close enough. John sighs, shrugs. "Fine. Try not to get yelled at."
"...are you going to tell?"
"Why would I tell?"
"I don't know. Why would I get yelled at." More ice cream. "Please stop getting in fights."
"Because she likes yelling at you." Shrug. "Why?"
"Then, how could I stop her?" She looks at him. "Because I can't protect you all the time for...4 more days."
"Try not leaves room for error." He frowns. "Ffs."
"I'll try not to get yelled at if you try not to get into fights."
"So that means I can get into a fight if someone happens to push me and you can get yelled at if Sarah's being crazy."
"...yes." That...probably doesn't work. "Four days."
"And after four days?"
"After four days, I can protect you again."
"I don't need protection from the fights I start."
"Yes. You do."
"Why? I get into them for a reason, you know."
"I don't know that. You need protection." From himself, apparently.
John huffs. "Well now you do. What else am I supposed to do with myself?"
"Not fight." Obviously. "You need a better hobby." Turning left towards the house. "Maybe stamp collecting."
"That's something not to do. What am I supposed to do instead? I can't sit around the house all fucking day." Up goes the eyebrow. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I am not stamp collecting."
"Bird watching. People watching. Reading. Computer programming. Dental assisting..." No, that's a commercial for Devry. "Coin collecting. Beachcombing."
"I read, I computer program. None of your suggestions have anything to do with blowing off steam and you sound like the television at 3AM."
"I don't sleep. You didn't specify that as a parameter."
"I'm aware. There's your parameter. Someone bored, who refuses to stay inside all day, and needs to blow of steam."
"Sports."
Snort. "Yeah like Mom's going to let me sign up for the local football what the fuck ever."
"You're too skinny for football." ...right.
"Thank you, Allison. What sport then?" Why are they having this conversation? John's not going to play sports.
She stops, looks him over and keeps going. "You're right. You're too inefficient for sports."
John stops and doesn't start walking again. "Jesus..."
She looks back at him, stopping. "Are you coming?"
"Should I?" Oh, John. Now's not the time for this.
"...yes?" The neighbors? Must love this.
The neighbors, like many to come, can't decide if they're dating or siblings. "Naw, I think I'm done for today." John starts off in the opposite direction.
If they were dating or even siblings, at this point she would either pitch a fit or roll her eyes. Or both. Instead, she just follows him.
"Go home, Allison."
Yeah, right. "No."
"What do you want?" Still walking.
"Want? Nothing." Still following.
"Then why are you following me?"
"Because you aren't going home."
"I don't want to go home. I don't want to be followed."
She says nothing, but keeps following him.
Part of him is tempted to try and outrun her, but he's fairly certain it might not work and it would just attract attention. Instead he goes to a park, sits on a swing, and proceeds to ignore her.
Oddly? She stops following him at the edge of the park, standing on the sidewalk and watching him from there.
"What's wrong with you?" It takes him fifteen minutes to ask that and it's still harsher than he'd like.
"What's wrong with me?" She tilts her head. "I don't understand."
"Why you standing there like a nut?" Standing up, taking her hand, and attempting to pull her into the park.
She digs her feet into the ground, resisting this. "Standing there like a nut?"
John groans. "Why won't you move?"
"I don't need to move. I'll move when we leave."
"If you don't like being here, go home."
"No." She doesn't want to be here. But she can't go home without him.
"Tell her I lost you." It's starting to bug him, that she won't just follow him all the way in.
"No." Well. That's his problem.
John crosses his arms across his chest. "The hell do you want from me Allison?"
"I don't want anything."
"God. What do you expect, then, what is it that you keep waiting for me to do in order to magically make your life easier?"
"We're supposed to go home."
"She's not going to be home for..." John shrugged. "Three hours."
"Two hours, forty seven minutes and nine seconds. We're supposed to go home. I'll wait here."
More sighing. Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Fine. Home. What the fuck ever."
"I'll wait here, if you want to be in the park." But she won't come in.
"No." So they're going home.
Apparently. She relaxes quite a bit the further away from the park they get.
John does not. Sullen is apparently what he's up for, at the moment. Ignoring Allison is fine, when she's not doing something that actually worries him.
Eventually, finally, they manage to get back to the house. Where Allison goes to her room for about ten minutes to mark things down on paper.
John lays down. Because he's still angry, and fidgety, and wants to hit something.
After ten minutes, she will bring him a glass of water. For no apparent reason.
"Thanks but I'm not thirsty." To the ceiling.
So, she sets it on the table next to him and stands there. Staring. "You're upset with me."
"I'm angry. Not really at you, okay. Please stop standing over me."
"You're upset with me," she repeats. "Why?" So...not moving.
"I just said I wasn't angry at you. Aren't you listening?"
"I'm listening. You're lying. Why are you angry with me?"
John sighs, and swings his legs over so that he's forced to sit up. "Why the fuck do you think I'm lying?"
She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. "You're yelling. You're yelling at me. You're upset and you tried to avoid me."
"I'm yelling because you're not listening, I'm not upset at you, do I need to swear on a bible or some shit? I didn't try to avoid you. I found you and then I wanted to be alone and you insisted on following me and being all weird."
"All weird?" Why are you angry?"
"You wouldn't go in the park. I'm always angry."
"I don't need to go in the park. Why are you angry today?"
John drops his head in his hands and makes a lot of noise with his breath. "I don't know, okay?"
"No. It isn't okay. You were upset when I left the bank. Why?"
A groan. "You were flirting with the guard, why does it matter?"
"I was trying to get information. Why does it matter?" She shakes her head, handing him the water again.
"Fuck, I am not spelling this out for you. You're smart. Figure it out." Shaking his head at the water.
"...I'm a machine, John. I'm not programmed for that." She sets the water down and leaves the room.
John watches her go and goes back to laying down staring at the ceiling.
And in a while? More Sarah yelling. That's pleasant. Eventualy, Allison goes to her room to go look at her papers.
Eventually John comes out of his room to see what the fuck all the yelling is about, considering he didn't get into any fights (today) and they were home when she got home (today), so why doesn't his mother, he doesn't know, give Allison a cookie or something, fuck?
Really.
That doesn't help matters much. More yelling. And John eventually just up and slams the door in Sarah's face.
Well. That certainly doesn't help matters either, does it?
At some point, Allison comes back out of her room and back into John's to take his water glass and refill it with clean water. That's...bizarre. "She doesn't have to give me a cookie."
"I didn't mean that literally," says the sullen boy on the bed. "What's with the water?"
"You should drink 1.5 liters of liquid a day."
So John sits up and drinks the water, and lays back down. "All right, you can leave me alone now." Really, John? Come on.
"No. I can't." And? She sits on the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing?" Since 'what do you want' doesn't work. "What is the goal of this?"
She looks over at him. "The goal of what?"
"Sitting in here and not going back to your project."
"I didn't get enough information today. And you're upset."
"You have four days and I'm always upset. You shouldn't be near me right now anyway."
"Yes. I have four days. Why shouldn't I be near you? You can't hurt me."
"You and I in a fight? We'd kill each other. No thanks."
A look. "Why shouldn't I be near you right now?"
"Because I do want a fight. I don't want a fight with you."
"I won't fight with you. But I'm not leaving."
"...I don't understand." Frowning at her.
"What don't you understand?"
"Why you're not leaving."
"Because you're upset. I'm supposed to protect you."
"...From emotions. Really." John snorts. "God, I wish I could be like you right about now."
"Why would you want to be like me?"
"I wouldn't be angry over stupid shit and I wouldn't feel anything. Perfect little soldier."
She gets an interesting look on her face. "I feel things."
"Really? Could've fooled me."
"I feel sensation. Pain. Are you making fun of me?"
"No." He isn't, either. Oddly sad and somber, for John, and a little incredulous, but not making fun of her. "That isn't what I meant. Anger, fear, loss. Things like that."
"They're what make you human."
"Therein lies the problem," John mutters. "I haven't been a very upstanding human being recently so..." Shrug.
"So be one." As if it's that simple.
Flat look. "It is not that simple, hate to break it to you."
"Why isn't it?"
"I'm not...like you, I can't just flip and switch and decide that's how I'm going to be today."
"I don't do that. Do I do that?"
"Sometimes. If it's efficient. Sometimes, you do that, and I would give damn near anything to be able to do that too, but I can't. I can't just look in the mirror and go 'John, today you're going to be a better person, a decent human being. Today you're not going to be angry, today you're not going to start a fight.' I can't do that." He can barely look in the mirror anyway right now, but he doesn't volunteer that information. "Or I can, and it won't change anything. I won't be a decent human being. I'll start a fight. I'll be angry. I'm really fucked, anyway, no matter how you look at it. You did your best. Don't worry about it."
"I didn't do my best. I have to protect you, but you keep fighting."
John sighed. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying."
"So, explain better."
It took a lot of self control not to snap at her. "I can't just stop being angry. Getting into fights helps. If I'm not doing that, then what am I supposed to do with all that?"
She hmms. "If you get in fights, you'll get hurt. Yell at me?"
John rolls his eyes. "Getting hurt is part of the point. I don't want to yell at you, it just makes me angrier anyway."
"You can't fight anymore." She looks at him. "Why does it make you angrier?"
"I don't know."
"You can't fight anymore. It makes your mother angry and it puts you in danger. Find something else."
John sighs. "I shouldn't even be talking about this with you."
She tilts her head. "Future John would talk about this with me. You should talk about this with me."
"I don't know what else to find." He frowned. "I miss our old lives."
"I don't know what to tell you. You can't fight anymore." She frowns. "They weren't real."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that." John looks at her. "So? I miss them anyway. Since when has anything in my life been 100% real?"
"It doesn't mean anything if it isn't real."
"Then my entire life up until Judgment Day means nothing."
"That isn't what I said. I don't think that's what I said."
"You said it doesn't mean anything if it isn't real. I can apply that to my entire life, that's the problem." He stuck an arm under his head and stares at the ceiling. "I can't keep doing this."
She stands up. "We'll be moving soon, I think. You can be real in the next house."
John frowns at her. "Can I? I doubt it." He shrugs. "Thanks anyway."
"I'm sorry I'm inefficient at helping you." And with that, she goes.
"That isn't what I meant," he says to the empty room. Either way, he won't get into any more fights.
Sarah teaches her how to use a knife. A gun. How to fight. About the future. What she 'left behind'. At the fourth, fifth week, Sarah argues with someone named Enrique. On the telephone, about money. Or a lack of money. A need for money. Because they need new papers. Extra papers. For her.
She asks Sarah for a pen. For paper. And she begins to plan. To write. Draw, from memory. A building. A bank.
And the more time progresses the further John divides himself. Separating John from John's Ghost, until he can't remember why the division is there. Doesn't feel much. It's not stable. It's not airtight. It slips in through dreams, when he's not paying attention, when he's anxious and can't find things to do. Getting out, going home, doesn't actually alleviate any of that; if anything, it makes things a great deal worse.
So while Sarah fights with Enrique, while Allison plans a bank heist, John gets into fights. He comes home morose and bruise and bleeding, but when Sarah complains he reminds her that she chastised him for letting his hand-to-hand form get weaker.
If picking fights with stupid local gang members with something to prove wasn't what she had in mind, too bad.
Before her birthday, before any of this happened, if you'd told Allison she could plan a bank heist, she'd never have believed it. Now? Now, it seems easy. Going to the bank when she's supposed to be following John. Memorizing the schedules of the guards, the tellers. Going home and lying to Sarah. To John. About what she'd seen. What she'd done.
That was easy.
For some reason it hadn't really dawned on John that Allison was supposed to be following him, until Sarah started yelling at her about one of his fights. There'd been a knife, and he was fine, but it wasn't as though his mother really needed a reason for yelling. So when she was done, off doing who knew what, John left. And when he was certain Allison wasn't following him, he followed her instead.
She didn't mind when Sarah yelled at her, at least not all the time. And she didn't think John needed her following him all the time, not when there were more important things that needed doing.
Usually, she just scoped out the bank from the outside, or stood in line during the busytimes, conveniently having "forgotten" her passbook by the time she got to the head of the line. Today, she got an ice cream cone. Wandered around the outside of the bank to check the exits and then went inside to talk to the guard on duty.
Flirt with the guard on duty. See how easy it was to distract him. Very easy.
Fortunately for John the ice cream stand was right across the street from the bank. Nice big windows and everything. So he could watch her flirt with the guard, shove that reaction down into some dark corner of his mind, and try to figure out what she was doing. Why Allison was there.
What he decided, finally, only meant that when they did get around to robbing the bank, he wasn't as shocked as his mother would be. Until then, John waited for her to come out. Waited more or less exactly where she'd spot him.
And spot him she did. Spot him and walk right up to him, confused and tilting her head. "Did you follow me?"
"Yep." And he'll fall in step with her to walk where ever they're going, but he's not going to stand here in front of God and everyone and that fucking guard to talk to her.
She smiles and waves at the guard, brightly and walks away from the bank. Towards home. Glancing at the back entrance again on the way. Noting the Brinks truck and the time of day. "You shouldn't have followed me."
"Hmm." His anger is still there, agitation at something that shouldn't matter, but it does, and here they are. Walking home. John shoves his hands deep into his pockets, ignoring the sting from his knuckles against the denim. "Why's that?"
"You interupted me. I was doing something important. Now I have to go back tomorrow, and I'll be delayed."
"Something important, right. His phone number? I wasn't going to stop you."
She eats her ice cream, pauses and gives him a weird look. "His phone number? That wouldn't be helpful."
John sighs and stares at nothing. "Whatever. What do you need?"
"Need? I don't understand." Absently offering him ice cream.
Shaking his head. "What did you need to do that I was interrupting?"
"I was gathering information. It isn't important."
"Like hell. I won't tell, if that's what you're worried about."
"I know. I trust you. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, I trust you."
"What I'm doing, I'm doing for you."
That? Doesn't make John any more comfortable. "And in this thing you're doing, how many casualties are there?"
"I don't know yet. Three at the most. None, I hope."
"Eh, fuck that." He doesn't want anyone killed in a bank heist. "She can find some other way for money."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Whatever." John's not stupid.
"Why did you follow me, if you trust me?"
"Because I was curious." That was it, really.
"Don't follow me tomorrow."
"You could fucking ask."
Another look. "I could. What could I fucking ask?"
"Not to follow you tomorrow as opposed to just telling me what to do. Like I don't get enough of that shit."
"If I asked you, would you do it?"
"Yes." Slightly irritated.
"Please don't follow me tomorrow." That's...sort of asking, isn't it?
Close enough. John sighs, shrugs. "Fine. Try not to get yelled at."
"...are you going to tell?"
"Why would I tell?"
"I don't know. Why would I get yelled at." More ice cream. "Please stop getting in fights."
"Because she likes yelling at you." Shrug. "Why?"
"Then, how could I stop her?" She looks at him. "Because I can't protect you all the time for...4 more days."
"Try not leaves room for error." He frowns. "Ffs."
"I'll try not to get yelled at if you try not to get into fights."
"So that means I can get into a fight if someone happens to push me and you can get yelled at if Sarah's being crazy."
"...yes." That...probably doesn't work. "Four days."
"And after four days?"
"After four days, I can protect you again."
"I don't need protection from the fights I start."
"Yes. You do."
"Why? I get into them for a reason, you know."
"I don't know that. You need protection." From himself, apparently.
John huffs. "Well now you do. What else am I supposed to do with myself?"
"Not fight." Obviously. "You need a better hobby." Turning left towards the house. "Maybe stamp collecting."
"That's something not to do. What am I supposed to do instead? I can't sit around the house all fucking day." Up goes the eyebrow. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I am not stamp collecting."
"Bird watching. People watching. Reading. Computer programming. Dental assisting..." No, that's a commercial for Devry. "Coin collecting. Beachcombing."
"I read, I computer program. None of your suggestions have anything to do with blowing off steam and you sound like the television at 3AM."
"I don't sleep. You didn't specify that as a parameter."
"I'm aware. There's your parameter. Someone bored, who refuses to stay inside all day, and needs to blow of steam."
"Sports."
Snort. "Yeah like Mom's going to let me sign up for the local football what the fuck ever."
"You're too skinny for football." ...right.
"Thank you, Allison. What sport then?" Why are they having this conversation? John's not going to play sports.
She stops, looks him over and keeps going. "You're right. You're too inefficient for sports."
John stops and doesn't start walking again. "Jesus..."
She looks back at him, stopping. "Are you coming?"
"Should I?" Oh, John. Now's not the time for this.
"...yes?" The neighbors? Must love this.
The neighbors, like many to come, can't decide if they're dating or siblings. "Naw, I think I'm done for today." John starts off in the opposite direction.
If they were dating or even siblings, at this point she would either pitch a fit or roll her eyes. Or both. Instead, she just follows him.
"Go home, Allison."
Yeah, right. "No."
"What do you want?" Still walking.
"Want? Nothing." Still following.
"Then why are you following me?"
"Because you aren't going home."
"I don't want to go home. I don't want to be followed."
She says nothing, but keeps following him.
Part of him is tempted to try and outrun her, but he's fairly certain it might not work and it would just attract attention. Instead he goes to a park, sits on a swing, and proceeds to ignore her.
Oddly? She stops following him at the edge of the park, standing on the sidewalk and watching him from there.
"What's wrong with you?" It takes him fifteen minutes to ask that and it's still harsher than he'd like.
"What's wrong with me?" She tilts her head. "I don't understand."
"Why you standing there like a nut?" Standing up, taking her hand, and attempting to pull her into the park.
She digs her feet into the ground, resisting this. "Standing there like a nut?"
John groans. "Why won't you move?"
"I don't need to move. I'll move when we leave."
"If you don't like being here, go home."
"No." She doesn't want to be here. But she can't go home without him.
"Tell her I lost you." It's starting to bug him, that she won't just follow him all the way in.
"No." Well. That's his problem.
John crosses his arms across his chest. "The hell do you want from me Allison?"
"I don't want anything."
"God. What do you expect, then, what is it that you keep waiting for me to do in order to magically make your life easier?"
"We're supposed to go home."
"She's not going to be home for..." John shrugged. "Three hours."
"Two hours, forty seven minutes and nine seconds. We're supposed to go home. I'll wait here."
More sighing. Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Fine. Home. What the fuck ever."
"I'll wait here, if you want to be in the park." But she won't come in.
"No." So they're going home.
Apparently. She relaxes quite a bit the further away from the park they get.
John does not. Sullen is apparently what he's up for, at the moment. Ignoring Allison is fine, when she's not doing something that actually worries him.
Eventually, finally, they manage to get back to the house. Where Allison goes to her room for about ten minutes to mark things down on paper.
John lays down. Because he's still angry, and fidgety, and wants to hit something.
After ten minutes, she will bring him a glass of water. For no apparent reason.
"Thanks but I'm not thirsty." To the ceiling.
So, she sets it on the table next to him and stands there. Staring. "You're upset with me."
"I'm angry. Not really at you, okay. Please stop standing over me."
"You're upset with me," she repeats. "Why?" So...not moving.
"I just said I wasn't angry at you. Aren't you listening?"
"I'm listening. You're lying. Why are you angry with me?"
John sighs, and swings his legs over so that he's forced to sit up. "Why the fuck do you think I'm lying?"
She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. "You're yelling. You're yelling at me. You're upset and you tried to avoid me."
"I'm yelling because you're not listening, I'm not upset at you, do I need to swear on a bible or some shit? I didn't try to avoid you. I found you and then I wanted to be alone and you insisted on following me and being all weird."
"All weird?" Why are you angry?"
"You wouldn't go in the park. I'm always angry."
"I don't need to go in the park. Why are you angry today?"
John drops his head in his hands and makes a lot of noise with his breath. "I don't know, okay?"
"No. It isn't okay. You were upset when I left the bank. Why?"
A groan. "You were flirting with the guard, why does it matter?"
"I was trying to get information. Why does it matter?" She shakes her head, handing him the water again.
"Fuck, I am not spelling this out for you. You're smart. Figure it out." Shaking his head at the water.
"...I'm a machine, John. I'm not programmed for that." She sets the water down and leaves the room.
John watches her go and goes back to laying down staring at the ceiling.
And in a while? More Sarah yelling. That's pleasant. Eventualy, Allison goes to her room to go look at her papers.
Eventually John comes out of his room to see what the fuck all the yelling is about, considering he didn't get into any fights (today) and they were home when she got home (today), so why doesn't his mother, he doesn't know, give Allison a cookie or something, fuck?
Really.
That doesn't help matters much. More yelling. And John eventually just up and slams the door in Sarah's face.
Well. That certainly doesn't help matters either, does it?
At some point, Allison comes back out of her room and back into John's to take his water glass and refill it with clean water. That's...bizarre. "She doesn't have to give me a cookie."
"I didn't mean that literally," says the sullen boy on the bed. "What's with the water?"
"You should drink 1.5 liters of liquid a day."
So John sits up and drinks the water, and lays back down. "All right, you can leave me alone now." Really, John? Come on.
"No. I can't." And? She sits on the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing?" Since 'what do you want' doesn't work. "What is the goal of this?"
She looks over at him. "The goal of what?"
"Sitting in here and not going back to your project."
"I didn't get enough information today. And you're upset."
"You have four days and I'm always upset. You shouldn't be near me right now anyway."
"Yes. I have four days. Why shouldn't I be near you? You can't hurt me."
"You and I in a fight? We'd kill each other. No thanks."
A look. "Why shouldn't I be near you right now?"
"Because I do want a fight. I don't want a fight with you."
"I won't fight with you. But I'm not leaving."
"...I don't understand." Frowning at her.
"What don't you understand?"
"Why you're not leaving."
"Because you're upset. I'm supposed to protect you."
"...From emotions. Really." John snorts. "God, I wish I could be like you right about now."
"Why would you want to be like me?"
"I wouldn't be angry over stupid shit and I wouldn't feel anything. Perfect little soldier."
She gets an interesting look on her face. "I feel things."
"Really? Could've fooled me."
"I feel sensation. Pain. Are you making fun of me?"
"No." He isn't, either. Oddly sad and somber, for John, and a little incredulous, but not making fun of her. "That isn't what I meant. Anger, fear, loss. Things like that."
"They're what make you human."
"Therein lies the problem," John mutters. "I haven't been a very upstanding human being recently so..." Shrug.
"So be one." As if it's that simple.
Flat look. "It is not that simple, hate to break it to you."
"Why isn't it?"
"I'm not...like you, I can't just flip and switch and decide that's how I'm going to be today."
"I don't do that. Do I do that?"
"Sometimes. If it's efficient. Sometimes, you do that, and I would give damn near anything to be able to do that too, but I can't. I can't just look in the mirror and go 'John, today you're going to be a better person, a decent human being. Today you're not going to be angry, today you're not going to start a fight.' I can't do that." He can barely look in the mirror anyway right now, but he doesn't volunteer that information. "Or I can, and it won't change anything. I won't be a decent human being. I'll start a fight. I'll be angry. I'm really fucked, anyway, no matter how you look at it. You did your best. Don't worry about it."
"I didn't do my best. I have to protect you, but you keep fighting."
John sighed. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying."
"So, explain better."
It took a lot of self control not to snap at her. "I can't just stop being angry. Getting into fights helps. If I'm not doing that, then what am I supposed to do with all that?"
She hmms. "If you get in fights, you'll get hurt. Yell at me?"
John rolls his eyes. "Getting hurt is part of the point. I don't want to yell at you, it just makes me angrier anyway."
"You can't fight anymore." She looks at him. "Why does it make you angrier?"
"I don't know."
"You can't fight anymore. It makes your mother angry and it puts you in danger. Find something else."
John sighs. "I shouldn't even be talking about this with you."
She tilts her head. "Future John would talk about this with me. You should talk about this with me."
"I don't know what else to find." He frowned. "I miss our old lives."
"I don't know what to tell you. You can't fight anymore." She frowns. "They weren't real."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that." John looks at her. "So? I miss them anyway. Since when has anything in my life been 100% real?"
"It doesn't mean anything if it isn't real."
"Then my entire life up until Judgment Day means nothing."
"That isn't what I said. I don't think that's what I said."
"You said it doesn't mean anything if it isn't real. I can apply that to my entire life, that's the problem." He stuck an arm under his head and stares at the ceiling. "I can't keep doing this."
She stands up. "We'll be moving soon, I think. You can be real in the next house."
John frowns at her. "Can I? I doubt it." He shrugs. "Thanks anyway."
"I'm sorry I'm inefficient at helping you." And with that, she goes.
"That isn't what I meant," he says to the empty room. Either way, he won't get into any more fights.