vanilla and honeydew with malt and sprinkles
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Royally
Rating: PG
Challenge: Vanilla #22: gossip/a rumour, Honeydew #26: public relations
Toppings/Extras: malt, sprinkles
Wordcount: 1,680
Summary: An overheard conversation and a lot of explaining for Robyn Walshe and VC-11.
Notes: Before Victor was given his name and before he really knew anything about being a person. This was meant to be a horrible awkward “oh no Victor!” piece but then things took an unexpected turn for the heartwarming. Sort of.
Malt pfah; Robyn : I’m melting in your eyes, like the first time that I caught fire.
“Aw, Rob, you’re no good at hiding your feelings, you know that?” Bradley said, shooting her an exaggerated wink as they sat in the lounge that they shared. Newson provided them with their accommodation; they could often be found wandering Hamlet Tower in the rare moments of peace that they had. It used to be dull; now Robyn was simply glad for the little bit of rest and quiet.
“What’re you talking about?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow as she blew on the shining surface of her boot. She was giving them a severe polishing, as she always did when she had nothing else to do.
“I see the way you look at VC,” Bradley grinned-mostly joking, but only mostly. “You’ve got a wee bit of a soft spot for the lad, don’t you? Come on, Rob, we’ve known each other a while, you can tell me: you like him, don’t you?”
“Christ, Bradley,” Robyn said, rolling her eyes and not meeting his gaze. A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re really immature, you know that?”
“That seems to be the way you like ‘em,” Bradley continued. “How old’s he? Eighteen?”
“He’s twenty-two.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Robyn said, placing one boot on the ground with a thump and picking up the other. She spat on her polishing cloth and began scrubbing at the welts. “Blackledges don’t age at the same speed we do... or the same way.”
“You’re telling me,” Bradley said, sounding amused. “Anyway, I don’t hear you denying it. You’re fond of the little guy, eh?”
“Will you shut up?” Robyn sighed loudly. “You’re like a child... I don’t like him, OK?”
“What is it about him, hmm? What calls to you? Is it his constant zoning out? The way he talks to himself, perhaps?” Bradley asked, pretending to sigh like a lover. Robyn exhaled with brief, derisive laughter.
“Brad, sometimes you are such a-...”
“Shit.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say, actually, but...” Robyn turned her head around to see that Bradley had his hands on his head and was staring at the door. Not the door exactly, in actual fact: more the figure stood in it. Her words died.
Of course it had to be VC-11.
“VC...” Bradley began. Veecee was what they called him generally if they couldn’t be bothered with the entire five syllables. Brad stammered to silence.
How in the world did one continue with a conversation like that?
VC-11’s face was vacant of emotion as always, until there was just the slightest downwards twitch of his brows in the direction of confusion. It was a tiny movement, but for someone who so rarely expressed anything at all, he may as well have burst into tears.
“We didn’t-...”
Nodding abruptly, VC-11 backed out of the room as though embarrassed to be there and walked away quickly. Bradley turned to face Robyn, hand still on his head.
“Fuck. You know I didn’t-...”
“Yes, Brad, I know,” Robyn sighed. She liked Brad: he was a good guy, albeit a good guy with a slightly unsympathetic sense of humour. He didn’t mean a lot of what he said and most people could tell when he was joking in any case. But VC-11 was not any case. “You should probably go after him.”
”Are you joking?” Bradley hissed. “He probably hates me. Shit. I didn’t... can’t you go? He likes you.”
“Does he?” Robyn asked, wrinkling her nose. I doubt he does any more.
“Yes!” Bradley gestured wildly. “I don’t know, you get on with him better than I do. Please? Don’t make me go out there alone. I may not live to tell the tale...”
“No more of that,” Robyn warned him, stuffing her feet wearily into her boots. “Your big mouth is going to get you into real trouble one of these days.”
“Already has,” Bradley replied morosely. “A lot.”
That was how she ended up outside of VC-11’s room. She’d only known him for a couple of weeks-how in the world was she meant to address a delicate issue like this? She felt confident that he wouldn’t kick up a fuss-although potentially dangerous, he was extraordinarily mild-mannered. Nevertheless, it took her all of five long minutes to build up the courage to knock on the door.
After waiting for what she perceived to be a decent amount of time, she opened the door and hesitantly stuck her head through the gap.
VC-11 turned away from the window to face her as she did so, although he only glanced at her face and then plastered his eyes to the floor, where they usually were. He offered no greeting, but this was ordinary for him.
“Hey,” Robyn said awkwardly. “Are you OK?”
“Yes,” he replied shortly.
The longer I say nothing, the worse it is, she thought, but it took her a while to put her thoughts into a speakable order nonetheless.
“Look... what Brad said... he doesn’t mean any harm. He was just... joking around...”
“I know jokes,” VC-11 replied. As a response it made no sense at all to Robyn. It was like they were speaking two different yet slightly overlapping languages. Again, she hesitated, leading to yet another long pause.
“Yeah, well, he’s... Bradley says a lot of stuff. It’s just how he deals with...” Robyn hesitated, trying to think of the best word. “Things,” she finally concluded lamely. It wasn’t up to her how much of Bradley’s history was revealed to relative strangers, after all.
VC-11 looked up abruptly, his silver gaze hitting Robyn like an oncoming train. She felt almost breathless from it. He looked nervous but there was boldness there, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever associated with him. Although she probably got on with VC-11 better than the other two did, she hadn’t really connected with him on a personal level yet and as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of it unnerved her a little.
“You don’t like me?” he asked bluntly.
“What? Oh, he... no! I mean, you know, yes. I like you. But he...” Robyn shook her head, long rope of hair flipping this way and that behind her as she did so. She couldn’t help but notice how eerily tidy VC-11’s room was. But what had she expected?
“You said it.”
“Yes, but that was... you know... Bradley was insinuating that... I liked you... you know... romantically. Sexually.” Shitting hell, I can’t believe I just used the word ‘sexually’ in front of VC-11. Does he even know what sex is? Oh, fuck... “Um... and I... you know, in general terms, I like you. In a friendly way. I like you quite a lot, actually. I mean, you don’t chew my ear off like Brad does and you do what you’re told and you’re... you’re a good kid.”
Well, that was garbled, she thought as she felt herself turning red. And so very wrong. Oh God. Could I have put it any worse? Brad, I’m going to fucking kill you.
VC-11 took a short moment to process this.
“All right,” he finally conceded. “You like me, but not...”
“Yes. I mean, you know... don’t... oh, fucking hell.”
His gaze was steady as one brow arched ever so slightly. Good God, Robyn thought unhappily, You’re in real trouble when VC-11 is giving you weird looks...
“Fine,” he said. He seemed to be gearing himself up to talk more, so Robyn allowed him to. She was a little busy slowly turning crimson. He continued presently: “It’s difficult. Remembering. You don’t know.”
“I’m sure it is,” Robyn mumbled.
“They say time heals all wounds. Not mine. Not for me. Memories become softer and fonder for you, they change and they alter, the truth becomes what you want it to be. For me the truth isn’t subjective. It’s truth. For me it’s always the same. I can’t unsee what I see. Can’t unhear what I hear.”
Robyn had never, ever imagined that he was even capable of speaking so much. She gaped at him, wordless.
“I...” she managed after a while.
“You don’t know what I’d give to forget, Robyn Walshe. There are things that I wish I could rip out of my skull.”
“I don’t...” Robyn was stuck in his stare. His eyes were so bleak, especially now. She wasn’t even sure what she had been meaning to say, but whatever it was vanished. Indistinctly, she was aware of her lips moving even as no sound came out. And then VC-11 tore his eyes from hers with a feeling like ripping a dictionary in half and returned his gaze to the floor.
Another long silence ensued. That seemed to be all that VC-11 had to say on the matter.
“I’m sorry,” Robyn finally said weakly.
“It’s not your fault.” His brow furrowed slightly. “And don’t call me a kid. I’m older than you are.”
“Right you are,” Robyn said with clear unease, moving back out of the door. “Anyway, I’ll... um... I’ll see you.”
“You’re not scared of me, are you?” VC-11 suddenly asked. His gaze flashed to her face again before moving back to the floor. “Because people are sometimes, even if they don’t say they are. In the orphanage, they... I’m... I’m being good.”
And he looked so damn earnest that Robyn felt her heart trickle out through the soles of her feet. Goddamn, VC, she thought. What happened to you?
“Like I’d be scared of you, you little shrimp,” Robyn said, smiling unwaveringly. She didn’t know how she managed it but she did. “We have a briefing tonight at eight, make sure to be there, all right? I’ll... well, I’ll see you.”
“Yes,” VC-11 replied tentatively. It was his standard response when he couldn’t find a more appropriate one. “You will.”
Robyn’s smile momentarily glowed with genuine warmth.
“I know you’re a good person, by the way, VC. Obvious as hell.”
“Not really...”
“It is!”
“Some people...” The genetic experiment broke off haltingly, brow furrowed. “They just...”
“VC, some people can go and royally fuck themselves. All right?”