blueberry cheesecake and strawberry shortcake pocky chain
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: You’ve Got a Friend in Me
Rating: G
Challenge: Blueberry Cheesecake #7: take your lumps, Strawberry Shortcake #26: you’ve got a friend in me
Toppings/Extras: pocky chain
Wordcount: 800
Summary: Friend, freogan: ‘to love, to favour.’ Victor Blackledge learns.
Notes: Ohgodhi. Don’t mind me crawling back in. <3 (New folks I haven’t met yet-hi!)
It was one of the few quiet days their job allowed of them. VC-11 was glad-not that he was particularly tired. Blackledges were durable; as though Father would want clones that needed to stop for a break every five minutes.
Wolfgang was tired, though. He could tell from a number of factors. His posture, the way he rubbed his forehead. It must be hard being a leader, VC-11 always thought. He couldn’t do it.
But he could make a cup of tea-albeit a bit of a dishwatery one-and cherish the faintly surprised smile he received in return.
-----
“For God’s sake,” Adele Merritt was muttering under her breath, mercilessly plucked eyebrows slanting downwards dangerously, the cool plastic flawlessness of her face creased with exasperation. “Why do I put up with you miscreants?”
Miscreants. Mes-, ‘wrongly,’ and creire, ‘believe.’ It all came back to perception in the end.
VC-11 looked down at his pale hands for a moment. “Because…” he started, but shied away when her hard blue gaze snapped towards him irritably.
Rhetorical. Rhetoricus, ‘eloquent.’ Unlike him.
“Because you’re good at what you do.”
He was surprised by the momentary fading of her frown. She seemed so too.
-----
It was awful. He was so useless. The warnings flashed through his mind smoothly, coolly alerting him to the danger ahead.
But his voice wouldn’t obey him. It was such a stupid thing to be scared of, but VC-11 would plunge into a stammer whenever a situation demanded that he spoke.
He was awful.
He seized Bradley Dekeynel by the elbow instead, ignoring the quizzical look as he jerked them both into an alcove. And Bradley trusted him, said nothing, even in the hostile territory they were infiltrating.
“Camera sweep,” VC-11 finally whispered apologetically.
Bradley nodded, understanding. Appreciative. “Thanks, man.”
-----
“You go around cringing like a dog, VC, and people are going to treat you like one,” Robyn said, frustrated. VC-11 couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. “Look at me, kid. Seriously. Look at me.”
Eventually, he did so obediently. She was pushing her blonde hair from her eyes. She was so big and bright and bossy and bold. Strong, capable and caring. Scary sometimes, but… not.
After a moment she sighed. Her voice softened.
“Don’t let them, VC. It isn’t right.”
He didn’t know what to say. He rarely did, with Robyn.
And ‘dog’ was an etymological mystery.
-----
***
-----
Wolfgang’s funeral was a sad affair.
Victor knew death. It hadn’t been uncommon back when he’d been VC-11, really VC-11, in the Facility. And time ceased to soften the blow for someone who Remembered. One got used to it, he supposed.
Nevertheless, he felt rather helpless, amongst other things. It had hit Robyn and Bradley hard.
Death was always a sad thing, but Victor hadn’t thought before about missing people. They were stored so perfectly in his mind. He could conjure up Wolfgang Sidone in an instant if he wanted to.
But he would miss making more memories with him.
-----
There was a bit of a jolt that went through him when Adele furrowed her brow and then leaned over to tweak at a strand of his hair. He looked up at her from his seat, alarmed.
“You need a haircut,” she said, clipped as ever.
“Thank you?” he tried, because conversation still wasn’t his strong point, even after two years of working for her.
“It wasn’t a compliment, Blackledge.”
Complere, ‘to complete.’ He liked that one.
Victor was still struggling for a response when she shot him a smirk that could almost have been called fond, by her standards.
-----
“My God,” Bradley said as they strode along one of the corridors of the gleaming Nutriware skyscraper. They’d just met the newest head scientist for Black Ops. Dr Phillibert Gatz. “He had a face like a haunted tree.”
Victor had to ponder on this imagery a while. After the pause he huffed a faint, rare laugh.
“What?” Bradley asked, trying not to sound too pleased with himself.
“He did, a bit,” Victor replied, though he felt slightly bad saying so. Still, he wished that he and his clones had been programmed with a little more imagination. It must be brilliant.
-----
“Did you know that the word ‘guest’ has the same root as the word ‘hostile’? ‘Host,’ too. Hostis: enemy, foreigner, stranger.” Victor touched a hand to the doorframe. “People are strange.”
An odd way to open a conversation, but Robyn was used to that by now. She looked up at him from her paperwork and grinned.
“You know so bloody much. I wish I’d studied more at school.”
He was pulled from his thoughts at that and looked at her properly. Not that he needed to; an initial glance absorbed every detail. Nevertheless.
He smiled. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”