Ever since Nick had discovered Claire, bleeding and swaying in the compound, and ever since Nick had found F, sick and covered in blood and so very wrong, he's been a little off-balance. It's like everything he knew -- everything he thought he understood about this poor Japanese girl who just needed someone to help her back to being human -- was destroyed, killed dead and buried underground, down with the worms and ants and explosives and his ever-waning sanity.
He couldn't decide what to do. On one hand, he had the strong urge of the law-enforcement professional to put a stop to this, to find F and deliver her to Vimes and let him deal with it. But he couldn't shake the feeling that -- no matter what she was, human or monster -- maybe she just needed someone to care for her, to teach her that this parasitic life wasn't how things worked here.
He finds her by accident, when all he's doing is walking to clear his head. But there she is, and he feels his blood run cold.
F knows he's there, but it takes her time to lift her head and give him the flicker of eye contact that means she sees him. Oh, how sad it is, that Nick doesn't like her anymore.
Her mouth twitches again. She's so hungry, so tired that she's willing to jump through hoops she never would have cared about before.
Nick watches her curiously, watches her try to -- to something. To speak or cry out or scream or, what, eat him?
With a sigh, he slowly lowers himself to the ground, stomach churning at the sight of the dead animal in front of her. The animal corpse disgusts him more than what he knows F does, and he doesn't know whether this is good or bad.
"Konban wa," he says wearily, stretching his legs out in front of him on the ground.
Nick laughs, understanding -- truly understanding -- the sweet, sad irony. Nick. Meat. How hilarious.
He looks at her for a while. "Doushite?" he asks. Why? He doesn't know if there's an answer for it, and even if there is, his basic hi-how-are-you Japanese, gleaned from compound books and creaky film reels in the rec room, won't allow him to understand it anyway. But he has to ask.
F would be a liar if she pretended she'd never been asked that. It was one of Masuoka's last words, and F is too completely primal and old and true to lie.
"Atashi... soto."
This is the best she can do and her teeth which haven't dulled so far from home cut into her tongue. F is quiet when she tastes her own strange blood.
He doesn't know what it means, and it really doesn't matter. He doesn't think he wants to know why she does it anyway. Was she made that way? Did someone turn her in to this monster? He wanted to find out, but it was difficult, not being able to communicate and also now being more than a little terrified of her.
There's a lot of questions that Nick has, and the scientist in him craves answers. But the tired, broken part of him just doesn't care.
He cups his chin in his hand and just looks at her.
F spits out her blood without grace, and then half-crawls, towards his warmth and away from the carcass that she'd been watching. Her body, in its hungry way, wanted to be warm now. Different, though, from the aching heat of the sun, but human warm.
He couldn't decide what to do. On one hand, he had the strong urge of the law-enforcement professional to put a stop to this, to find F and deliver her to Vimes and let him deal with it. But he couldn't shake the feeling that -- no matter what she was, human or monster -- maybe she just needed someone to care for her, to teach her that this parasitic life wasn't how things worked here.
He finds her by accident, when all he's doing is walking to clear his head. But there she is, and he feels his blood run cold.
Reply
Her mouth twitches again. She's so hungry, so tired that she's willing to jump through hoops she never would have cared about before.
There is a tiny sound on her exhale.
Reply
With a sigh, he slowly lowers himself to the ground, stomach churning at the sight of the dead animal in front of her. The animal corpse disgusts him more than what he knows F does, and he doesn't know whether this is good or bad.
"Konban wa," he says wearily, stretching his legs out in front of him on the ground.
Reply
Reply
He looks at her for a while. "Doushite?" he asks. Why? He doesn't know if there's an answer for it, and even if there is, his basic hi-how-are-you Japanese, gleaned from compound books and creaky film reels in the rec room, won't allow him to understand it anyway. But he has to ask.
Reply
"Atashi... soto."
This is the best she can do and her teeth which haven't dulled so far from home cut into her tongue. F is quiet when she tastes her own strange blood.
Reply
There's a lot of questions that Nick has, and the scientist in him craves answers. But the tired, broken part of him just doesn't care.
He cups his chin in his hand and just looks at her.
Reply
She curls up into a ball on his feet.
Reply
He didn't know whether he was asking her, or asking himself.
Reply
The problem is that F is scared. F doesn't know what it is to be afraid. How can she know fear when she has only been fear?
She makes a soft, discontent sound.
Reply
Leave a comment