all_the_gifts (
all_the_gifts) wrote in
applesaucedream2014-10-15 08:54 pm
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Never Lie, Never Sin, Tell Us What A Mess We're In [Open to Multiple]
Melanie stares at the door to her cell. There is something different about it today. She's having a little trouble placing it, but she knows there's something off. It's concerning. She has been so clear about what ROMAC needs to do to keep everyone else safe from her, and the suspicion that they're messing up somehow makes her very, very nervous.
It's the locks, she realizes after a few moments of intense scrutiny. That is what's wrong. There are supposed to be five, but she only counts four. That can't be right. Melanie approaches the door with a little frown on her face, her fingertips hovering a few inches from the metal, wary of the shock she'll get if she actually touches it. Her hand flits from lock to lock like a hummingbird. Now there are six. How are there six? She counts again, baffled to find that the number has halved itself to three.
She tries to count again, but this time, there are none.
Now she does reach out to touch the door, she can't help it - she can't believe it. They can't have taken the locks away. They're important. Hasn't she made it clear how incredibly important it is that they keep her in here?
The door does not shock her. Instead, it swings open beneath her hand, smooth and silent.
Melanie presses her lips together, her mouth a thin, disapproving line. She doesn't like the thought of leaving her room, but someone has to be told about this so they can get it fixed. Keeping her movements slow and even, as if she's trying to sneak past a group of hungries, Melanie carefully steps out into the hall to look for help.
It's the locks, she realizes after a few moments of intense scrutiny. That is what's wrong. There are supposed to be five, but she only counts four. That can't be right. Melanie approaches the door with a little frown on her face, her fingertips hovering a few inches from the metal, wary of the shock she'll get if she actually touches it. Her hand flits from lock to lock like a hummingbird. Now there are six. How are there six? She counts again, baffled to find that the number has halved itself to three.
She tries to count again, but this time, there are none.
Now she does reach out to touch the door, she can't help it - she can't believe it. They can't have taken the locks away. They're important. Hasn't she made it clear how incredibly important it is that they keep her in here?
The door does not shock her. Instead, it swings open beneath her hand, smooth and silent.
Melanie presses her lips together, her mouth a thin, disapproving line. She doesn't like the thought of leaving her room, but someone has to be told about this so they can get it fixed. Keeping her movements slow and even, as if she's trying to sneak past a group of hungries, Melanie carefully steps out into the hall to look for help.
no subject
"I see." He looks at the floor and runs a hand over his hair, trying to think of something else to say. "I, er. I'm sorry."
He lifts his chin again, meeting her eyes. "So this is how you lived in your world, as well?"
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She doesn't want to tell Aziraphale about that. "A little," she hedges. "It's nicer here. Back home, there were chemical showers, and they strapped us into wheelchairs whenever they wanted to move us around." It feels like ancient history, even though it was only a couple of months ago.
no subject
"I see," he says again. It's odd to him, and strangely frustrating, to find someone so clearly in need of help, proper help, angelic help, who seems nonetheless not to want it. And someone so very young. It would break his heart, he suspects, if that were a thing that could happen to him.
"And there's... definitely no hope of a cure?" he asks softly. He just doesn't want to accept that this charming little girl must be locked away out of sight for the duration of her life here. It isn't - well, it doesn't seem fair.
no subject
Instead, she reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Not for me," she says, giving him a bracing little pat before pulling her hand away. An odd gesture, maybe, but better than nothing. "It's what I am."
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"How long have you been here, Melanie?" he asks.
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She has to think about his question for a few moments, because it takes her that long to remember what the date was before she fell asleep. "Seventy-two days," she says. "It was May 13th when I first arrived, and ROMAC found me right away. I was lucky."
She studies his face for a moment, then tightens her grip on his hand a little. "Please don't be sad," she pleads, her expression earnest. "I promise I'm okay."
no subject
He pats her hand and lets it go, offering her an encouraging smile. See? he's fine.
"You are a remarkable little girl," he comments. "Even if you are only part little girl."
no subject
no subject
He's starting to feel the tug of consciousness, however, pulling at the back of his mind. "I think I'm starting to wake up now," he says. "But I'll see you again soon. All right?"
He manages one last smile before he wakes up, rather startled about it, in his flat.
no subject
"… Aziraphale?" she tries. There's no response. Frowning, she gazes around her room. It suddenly feels much emptier than it ever has before. Melanie lets out a sigh, then ventures back out into the hall. Maybe he's out there. Or maybe she'll find someone else.