035 - Cinnamon and Brown Sugar

[deadly_ned]

[On video, the Piemaker is wearing one of Dean's protective amulets, holding it in his hand and looking it over. He's also sitting on the man's couch, and looks like he has been for at least a week.

Aside from that, he's...thinner. Paler, and less altogether himself, even as his free hand continuously pets Digby the golden retriever beside him. Digby, for safety, also wears an amulet clipped to his collar]

I'm not much of a necklace person.

I wasn't expecting this to work. It works. I don't feel anything.

I didn't feel anything before I put it on either, so to the person who has my doll, thank you for not hurting it.


This flood is...

[The Piemaker falls silent. His eyes unfocus, and his head seems to drop. Something is clearly twisted up inside him.

This lasts for an uncomfortably long time, minutes worth of dead air filling up the network. Finally, the Piemaker seems to wake back up, wincing and rubbing at his eyes. He glances around, confused, before spotting the camera's light. He reaches over and shuts it off without explanation]

Comments

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[Giving up on attempting to put restraints on Iris'...Iris-ness, the Piemaker gently nudges aside Solace to drop down on the couch again]

I don't know why it's rare to be sick. We're a few dozen people stuffed tightly into one small place. Germs are waiting to spread.


I have a headache. And I'm not sleeping well. Not something you would go to the infirmary for.

[His eye twitches, betraying the lie. He's also not eating, and losing time, and sleepwalking.]

[spam]

[routemistress]

[Beer isn't Iris' favourite, but it's associated in her mind with Dean; it's the right thing to be drinking in this room that smells of leather and gun-oil and now also slightly of dogs and cinnamon. It's a good smell, and she's mentally compiling a chemical formula to reproduce it as she sits down and makes a Deanic gesture at Ned with the beer bottle.]

I expect it's rare for the same reasons it's rare on board a TARDIS. The ship looks after you. When she doesn't something's wrong. And I don't like the way I saw you zone out just now on the comms, Ned.

Maybe I'm just a daft old bat that worries too much, all right? But do me a favour, would you? Go and 'ave Bruce give you a proper workup. Did you see the writing on Morgana's mirror, at all?

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[He watches the beer bottle directed at him and sinks lower into the couch, his hands stuffed inside his pockets]

It's a product of the not-sleeping-well. Sometimes I zone out.

No. What was the writing on Morgana's mirror?

[spam]

[routemistress]

It was mirror-writing, Ned. Words appearing on the wrong side of 'er mirror. Again.

Do I 'ave to remind you what went down last time that 'appened?

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[With a shudder, the Piemaker closes his eyes, his hand reaching over to hug Digby's fur. He falls suspiciously silent]

[spam]

[routemistress]

No, I thought not. Ned, it's like I said to Morgana - we're forewarned, we can plan for this. If it's what we think, all right, there's no way it won't be terrible, but we've got a chance to make it less terrible. And the best chance of that is finding out everything we can.

So can you please go and get checked out? 'Cause this isn't normal, and anything not normal needs to be looked at 'ard.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[Instead, the Piemaker pulls Digby further into his lap, wrapping his arms around his dog]

The last time I was there, I died. Digby almost died. We were tormented.

[spam]

[routemistress]

And I were doing some of the tormenting. Ned, d'you think I will ever forget that?

Morgana and me are making some plans. If we can get every bugger on the same page before it 'appens, we're 'oping there'll be enough unaffected to ...neutralise the biggest problems right off the bat. Before it gets as bad as last time.

But we can't pull it off if people are keeping quiet about weird stuff that's 'appening. Do you see what I mean?

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

Weird stuff is happening to me. But it doesn't mean that it's that Barge. We shouldn't be jumping to conclusions. Morgana's...yes, but not me. There's nothing wrong with me.

[There's a good deal wrong with him]

[spam]

[routemistress]

[Sceptical Iris is sceptical.]

I'm not jumping to anything, Ned; I'm taking precautions. There's a difference. It's not necessarily connected; but what if it is, eh?

I'm not asking for your liver, you pillock! I'm asking you to get a bloody check-up. Is that so 'ard?

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

If it is, there's nothing we can do except live in a state of existential dread. The Barge will change us, we'll go back to that other one, and that'll be..it.

Or it could be the Admiral is punishing me for not going home. Or it could be a very unfunny prank. Or I could just be sick.

[spam]

[routemistress]

No. I'll tell you what we can do, Ned: if we're going to 'ave that 'appen again, we can 'ave a plan in place for everyone that gets across not changed. We can 'ave everyone working together instead of our usual herd of cats approach to everything, do you see?

[She stops, takes a deep pull from the beer, and snorts in amusement.]

Look at me, the biggest cat-'erder in the multiverse, advocating organised coordination. Makes me wonder if we're not in the Mirrorverse already. But you 'ave to admit this is a special occasion, Ned love. All right, might be about to be a special occasion.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

We were all changed last time. Most of us. I can't think of anyone who wasn't changed.

And now Alpha and the marquis are gone. But we didn't get any warning last time. Why are we getting warning now?

If it is what you and Morgana think it is.

[spam]

[routemistress]

We did get a warning last time. We just didn't know what we were being warned about 'cause it 'adn't 'appened yet. But the mirror writing, the ...did you see that bloke that turned up on Kara's post? No one 'ere knows 'im. That 'appened last time and all.

There were people not affected. Bruce, Nathan, Eddie - I was affected so I'm not sure who else. But people were, and whatever 'appens this time, there's bound to be someone staying normal.

We need those people to 'ave a few ideas beyond just making it up as they go, is all.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

I don't think anything we do is going to necessarily change things.

I'm losing time. Seconds and minutes and longer. And it's. I've always had a preternatural relationship with time. I always know what time it is.

But I'm losing time. I'll blink and an hour's gone and I don't remember what I'd been doing.

Sometimes I'll be somewhere and not remember how I got there in the first place.

[spam]

[routemistress]

...Oh Ned, that's serious. Please let Bruce give you a once over. Or I can do a scan up in the lab if you'd rather?


Look, we might not be able to change what 'appens to the boat. But I do think we might make a massive difference to the people that 'ave to live through it, d'you see? It's worth a shot, isn't it?

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

I've never been good with doctors. Of any kind. Even Bruce.


Are you asking me or telling me?

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She eyes him with shrewd, exasperated affection.]

Telling you, of course. And I'm not a doctor, so you'll be quite safe. I've been trained by several good ones.

I'm going to come over there and give you a hug now, Ned. Don't run away or punch me.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker looks only a little bit aghast]

I would never hit you.

[spam]

[routemistress]

[Being hugged by Iris is a little like being enveloped by a dry, fragrant octopus. She's only little, but she's very strong, and her touch comes with a wave of palpable affection, like an added scent or a silent soundtrack of the mind.]

'Course you wouldn't. Oh, you adorable daft bugger. D'you want to get the brainscan over with now or shall I bug you about it for a few days first? Your choice, sweetheart.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[In a way, it's a lot like being hugged by Olive Snook. Both women were tiny and blonde and bursting with affection that the Piemaker didn't know how to deal with. He keeps his arms pressed to his sides as the hug envelopes him, biting his lip]

Iris, I don't...do brainscans. Or heartscans, or skin samples. I haven't been to a doctor since I was eight.

[spam]

[routemistress]

Sweetheart, if it were just you I'd shut up about it.

[This is a flat out lie.]

But it's connected to the mirror barge. There's a bunch of you down with it. I need this so I can 'ave a chance of 'elping the others.

[Iris uses GUILT TRIP.]

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker closes his eyes. He wants to believe this is all not happening. He wants to wish it away and hope for something, anything else to intercede]

If there are a bunch of us down with it, why can't you do the bunch first? Why does it need to be me? There's a large enough sample size. Isn't there?

[spam]

[routemistress]

So far you're the only one that's baseline...no, wait. You're not baseline. You're a time-sensitive and you've got your death thing.

[She starts pacing, immediately distracted by the puzzle.]

Aeryn's Sebacean, Mal's a vampire, Nathan's got 'is weird ...thing 'e's got. Do we even 'ave any baseline humans affected? All of you are unique on the Barge, so far.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

There's D-


[The Piemaker stops. His deep discomfort concerning doctors and tests is now in fierce combat with the desire to protect a friend. When it comes to keeping Dean from harm, the Piemaker will succumb, reluctantly, to the ministrations of other people]

No.


I'll do it.