Reality Check, ch. 70
This chapter's a total suckfest, I think. But hey, look, character development!Chapter Seventy: Situation Normal (All Fucked Up)
The way Harrison saw it, Prescott was trying to put the boy in quarantine. Kyle had had very slim authorization to see Ari, so it was almost reasonable that he’d been locked out of contact with the boy.
Keeping Ari’s own father from seeing him? That was just cruelty, plain and simple.
At first, Harrison had been able to see small justification for the near-lockdown on contact with Ari. His immune system was still delicate -- all personnel who came near him had to use special protective gear, and he had been moved into a special set of isolated rooms. For his own safety, of course.
But Ari had gotten healthier as time passed, and eventually Harrison began to sense something sinister in the way Prescott tried to keep people from seeing the boy.
Getting Jeb in to see Ari had been hard enough, and he was the poor kid’s father. Prescott had said quite mildly that the text of the waiver Jeb had signed gave the School the power to deny him his parental rights, and that keeping Jeb away from his son would only do Ari good. Besides, it had been almost a year since Jeb arrived back at the School, and not once during that time had he so much as asked how Ari was doing.
Harrison had lost her patience with the man.
“Well, I’m giving Jeb permission to visit his son,” she said firmly. “It’s what’s best for Ari.”
And she’d left -- she was too polite to mention that the damn waiver had been forged in the first place. Or that she suspected Jeb had been too afraid of Prescott (or too deep in his conviction that his son was dead) to request a visit.
None of them were saints. Prescott was trying to keep a man from his child on very slim grounds. Jeb had been a neglectful father. And she... she’d betrayed Jeb’s trust.
It stung to think of it like that, but there it was -- the truth. Jeb had trusted her with the welfare of his only son. And though she’d tried to do what was best from Ari, to protect him as best she could, it seemed that in the end she’d failed.
Jeb had wronged Ari the same way -- had failed to be there when Ari needed him.
There was still time -- that was why she’d pressed so hard to let Jeb see Ari. They couldn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but they could try to move on.
The first step to moving on was at least getting the two of them to talk to each other, and the first step to that was getting the two of them in a room together.
That, Harrison could arrange.
It was the best she could do, really -- and she owed it to Jeb as his friend to do what she could for him.
So she did.As exhausted from lack of sleep as he was, ter Borcht still knew Marian’s ‘you’ve fucked up this time, kid’ voice when he heard it.
But he had to smile when he picked up the phone to a very calm voice on the other end -- because he knew she was seething with repressed obscenities.
“Hello, Roland,” she said.
“Hello there,” he replied, and slipped the phone between his ear and his shoulder.
She was silent for a moment. “I should hope,” she said at last, “that both of you are doing as well as I’ve been told.”
“Who needs to know?” he replied lightly.
“I worry about you, you know,” she said, and he was satisfied -- when Marian called and used her business voice, it was something of a feat to get her to switch back to her informal voice instead.
“I know you do,” he said, trying to be patient with her. (Honestly, he was.) “Is there a reason you’re calling?” She was lucky to have caught him in the lab at all -- he was never here anymore. Today he’d only stopped by to check on one of Jeb’s experiments -- and just his luck, the phone had rung when he was on his way out.
Jeb really should’ve asked Reilly to do this for him.
“Yes,” Marian snapped. “I can’t order you to come back to Germany, but I can ask that you return as soon as possible.” Which, this being Marian, translated to: Get back here. Now. If not on the next flight out, then on the one after that.
“Absolutely not,” ter Borcht said flatly.
“I’m sorry?” she said, in the no-nonsense tone he knew so well. “Run that by me again. I’m not sure I heard you.”
“No, Marian -- no, nein, negatory, not happening. I’m sorry, but right now, I have to stay here.”
“You almost died,” she said, her voice sharp-edged with anger. “We need you back.”
How those two statements connected, he didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to let her down as gently as he could. “I can’t come back to Germany -- not for a while.”
“Why not?”
They’d never quite seen eye-to-eye.
He closed his eyes and didn’t shout at her. “Marian. Please understand. I’m still -- dedicated to our project, but right now... right now, my daughter is my first priority. I’m staying here.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to go.”
“Fine,” she said before he hung up.
He replaced the phone in its cradle -- Elsa was getting restless, wriggling in his arms.
“Well, that’s over with,” he told her -- he knew she couldn’t understand him, but it seemed to comfort her to hear his voice. Which was understandable, in a way.
She looked up at him, her eyes half-open, and he really had to smile. It might just be leftover hormones messing with his brain, but to him she looked like an angel.
Marian, no doubt, would not approve.“Hey, man,” Kyle said, sitting down across from Reilly at the table.
“Kyle. How the hell are you?” He would’ve sounded enthusiastic if he’d kept his eyes on Kyle, not the table.
“Not too bad.” He shrugged. “Prescott’s trying to get me fired.”
“Huh?” This time Reilly actually achieved eye contact.
Kyle rolled his eyes and repeated himself. “Prescott. Is trying. To get. Me fired. You hear me?”
“Yeah.” Reilly rubbed at his eyes. “What for?”
“That part I don’t know.” He yawned. “But I have a feeling I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“You better be right,” Reilly said. “I’d miss you, man.”
“I know you would.” He grinned. “Did I tell you what I got reassigned to?”
“Not yet.” He looked a little more awake now.
Kyle got up. “I gotta go program some death robots, bitch. See you on the flip side.”
Honestly, he’d been waiting the entire conversation to use that line -- and it was worth it, just to know that Reilly was staring at him as he walked away.
Never let it be said that Kyle was mature.Never let anyone tell you that loading Chekhov's Gun is enjoyable. It is, in fact, tedious. Very much so. Previous chapter. Index. Next chapter.
The way Harrison saw it, Prescott was trying to put the boy in quarantine. Kyle had had very slim authorization to see Ari, so it was almost reasonable that he’d been locked out of contact with the boy.
Keeping Ari’s own father from seeing him? That was just cruelty, plain and simple.
At first, Harrison had been able to see small justification for the near-lockdown on contact with Ari. His immune system was still delicate -- all personnel who came near him had to use special protective gear, and he had been moved into a special set of isolated rooms. For his own safety, of course.
But Ari had gotten healthier as time passed, and eventually Harrison began to sense something sinister in the way Prescott tried to keep people from seeing the boy.
Getting Jeb in to see Ari had been hard enough, and he was the poor kid’s father. Prescott had said quite mildly that the text of the waiver Jeb had signed gave the School the power to deny him his parental rights, and that keeping Jeb away from his son would only do Ari good. Besides, it had been almost a year since Jeb arrived back at the School, and not once during that time had he so much as asked how Ari was doing.
Harrison had lost her patience with the man.
“Well, I’m giving Jeb permission to visit his son,” she said firmly. “It’s what’s best for Ari.”
And she’d left -- she was too polite to mention that the damn waiver had been forged in the first place. Or that she suspected Jeb had been too afraid of Prescott (or too deep in his conviction that his son was dead) to request a visit.
None of them were saints. Prescott was trying to keep a man from his child on very slim grounds. Jeb had been a neglectful father. And she... she’d betrayed Jeb’s trust.
It stung to think of it like that, but there it was -- the truth. Jeb had trusted her with the welfare of his only son. And though she’d tried to do what was best from Ari, to protect him as best she could, it seemed that in the end she’d failed.
Jeb had wronged Ari the same way -- had failed to be there when Ari needed him.
There was still time -- that was why she’d pressed so hard to let Jeb see Ari. They couldn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but they could try to move on.
The first step to moving on was at least getting the two of them to talk to each other, and the first step to that was getting the two of them in a room together.
That, Harrison could arrange.
It was the best she could do, really -- and she owed it to Jeb as his friend to do what she could for him.
So she did.As exhausted from lack of sleep as he was, ter Borcht still knew Marian’s ‘you’ve fucked up this time, kid’ voice when he heard it.
But he had to smile when he picked up the phone to a very calm voice on the other end -- because he knew she was seething with repressed obscenities.
“Hello, Roland,” she said.
“Hello there,” he replied, and slipped the phone between his ear and his shoulder.
She was silent for a moment. “I should hope,” she said at last, “that both of you are doing as well as I’ve been told.”
“Who needs to know?” he replied lightly.
“I worry about you, you know,” she said, and he was satisfied -- when Marian called and used her business voice, it was something of a feat to get her to switch back to her informal voice instead.
“I know you do,” he said, trying to be patient with her. (Honestly, he was.) “Is there a reason you’re calling?” She was lucky to have caught him in the lab at all -- he was never here anymore. Today he’d only stopped by to check on one of Jeb’s experiments -- and just his luck, the phone had rung when he was on his way out.
Jeb really should’ve asked Reilly to do this for him.
“Yes,” Marian snapped. “I can’t order you to come back to Germany, but I can ask that you return as soon as possible.” Which, this being Marian, translated to: Get back here. Now. If not on the next flight out, then on the one after that.
“Absolutely not,” ter Borcht said flatly.
“I’m sorry?” she said, in the no-nonsense tone he knew so well. “Run that by me again. I’m not sure I heard you.”
“No, Marian -- no, nein, negatory, not happening. I’m sorry, but right now, I have to stay here.”
“You almost died,” she said, her voice sharp-edged with anger. “We need you back.”
How those two statements connected, he didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to let her down as gently as he could. “I can’t come back to Germany -- not for a while.”
“Why not?”
They’d never quite seen eye-to-eye.
He closed his eyes and didn’t shout at her. “Marian. Please understand. I’m still -- dedicated to our project, but right now... right now, my daughter is my first priority. I’m staying here.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to go.”
“Fine,” she said before he hung up.
He replaced the phone in its cradle -- Elsa was getting restless, wriggling in his arms.
“Well, that’s over with,” he told her -- he knew she couldn’t understand him, but it seemed to comfort her to hear his voice. Which was understandable, in a way.
She looked up at him, her eyes half-open, and he really had to smile. It might just be leftover hormones messing with his brain, but to him she looked like an angel.
Marian, no doubt, would not approve.“Hey, man,” Kyle said, sitting down across from Reilly at the table.
“Kyle. How the hell are you?” He would’ve sounded enthusiastic if he’d kept his eyes on Kyle, not the table.
“Not too bad.” He shrugged. “Prescott’s trying to get me fired.”
“Huh?” This time Reilly actually achieved eye contact.
Kyle rolled his eyes and repeated himself. “Prescott. Is trying. To get. Me fired. You hear me?”
“Yeah.” Reilly rubbed at his eyes. “What for?”
“That part I don’t know.” He yawned. “But I have a feeling I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“You better be right,” Reilly said. “I’d miss you, man.”
“I know you would.” He grinned. “Did I tell you what I got reassigned to?”
“Not yet.” He looked a little more awake now.
Kyle got up. “I gotta go program some death robots, bitch. See you on the flip side.”
Honestly, he’d been waiting the entire conversation to use that line -- and it was worth it, just to know that Reilly was staring at him as he walked away.
Never let it be said that Kyle was mature.Never let anyone tell you that loading Chekhov's Gun is enjoyable. It is, in fact, tedious. Very much so. Previous chapter. Index. Next chapter.