Perfidious Albion (Chapter Twenty One)

[challis_2070]

Curious

They were back in the same room (at least, Pyro thought it was the same room) as they’d been in before lunch. It was only the…student. Child. Fellow teenager. Soldier. Not the older man, the Controller. He brought him back here, without the Controller? Why? To practice? Fear and fear and he couldn’t move and it felt like he was suffocating and nothing was happening and

He tried to not look at the other man. Dizzy from the fear, trying to get his head to clear. The man (child…) was pacing, looking at things in the room. Don’t do that. He played with little things, to fiddle with. Pyro made no attempt to disguise his fear. He stopped playing with the things. Walked back around to the other side of the table that Pyro was unwillingly seated at. Couldn’t mooooove, logical. Not that he could escape, but -

“He wanted me to bring you back here after lunch, but he had to run off to take care of…one of his…charges…”

Pyro looked toward him “I think that’s Blame. Uh, BTC?” Our mutual friend of sorts. Also, he was pretty sure the man before him was another of Controller’s ‘charges’. Well, student, apprentice, some sort of weird bastard weapon that he assumed BTC was in this case, whatever, they were just toys to Controller, likely. Unfeeling? No? A monster? Quite possibly.

“Probably, given he’s a…mutual friend of ours.” He was at the center of this and the reason he was currently being tortured. Okay, currently was perhaps overstating it, the student hadn’t actually done anything yet other than talk to him. Dread crept back in. He watched the student start pacing again. There was an entirely fine other chair. Sit down and stop being creeeeepy, damn it.

“I want nothing to do with him.” Exceedingly true. Well, maybe. He wanted to play on the server with him still. Saying that seemed like a bad idea?

“I am aware…wait. This isn’t what I meant to talk about.”

“Hm?” Oh, about what he had said before, about them killing the other prisoners/internees rather than releasing them. God he hoped he was wrong.

“The Lieutenant. He says you all are being released in groups.”

“they saaaaaay that at home too.” He wasn’t lying. It was…uncommon. Enough to be known. To be feared and - Fear. Everything smelt of fear and desperation and

“So I’ve heard. I don’t think that’s what they’re doing here, though.” He hoped. If they were, it wasn’t with gunfire. That was worse, somehow.

“I didn’t think you’d attack English people either, and yet, here we are.” Well, people he’d consider English. Did they consider themselves English? The other boy he had talked to, at lunch, yes, he did, aye.

The soldier paused at that. “I…fair point. I…I think this is the first time I’ve heard of as well. Much less…this.” He waved his hand around vaguely and Pyro tried to not flinch. The soldier tried to ignore him when he did that.

“Interning people? Here? Not just arrested but instead this…mass action? It’s weird is what it is. I mean…normal for you, but not here. Weird things it is. I don’t think we’d…I don’t know.” He looked exhausted and like he might cry. Wouldn’t have thought they could. Not on the clock at least. He leaned on the table across from Pyro as he appeared to contemplate sitting down before deciding to both keep talking and not actually sit down or rest.

“They keep saying I’d be good at this. I just…I just want to…not do this. I can do physical work. I’m not…not stupid. I know this. But I don’t want to do this as work. I joined to help my family. I expected to…to wear myself out, but not…not mentally, you know? I don’t know. I thought I did. I just…I want to keep part of myself.” The soldier sighed softly. “Sorry. I…probably should not be using you as therapy.” Pyro carefully considered his options. He might have been brave before, but… “I suppose for you that it’s better than the alternative.” He could certainly agree on that front. Dread of what the man meant to do hung in the air. He’d take being a therapist over…

“Aye. Also, aren’t there therapists here? That you can talk to? Or hell, ones off base??” Wasn’t his own father seeing a therapist here? And hadn’t BTC said that on the server, when they talked? That he was seeing a therapist to ‘get a handle’ on his reactions to the situation?

“There’s a waiting list. I mean, I should put myself on the waiting list, I guess.”

“Ye should.” Pyro flinched at what he had just said. The fear was back. The soldier was just staring at him. Through him. Fear, terror. Pain, from earlier. He’d like the lack of pain, but…the mental stress was nigh on as bad and worse in some ways waiting waiting for it

“It…” The soldier looked at Pyro, through him, at him. “You’d want me to get help? Why?”

Why? “...Should I think of ye as some sort of irredeemable monster?”

“It would make this easier.” To continue on the path Controller wanted him to take. To be a bastard. To crush the thoughts. It would be easier for him. He was drumming the table in front of Pyro. Incessant sound Dread.

“Can’t do that.” Won’t make it easier to abuse him. Not brave, but…can’t do it. Can’t bring himself to. Not a martyr. Didn’t want to be. Couldn’t do anything else -

“Suppose not.” He really didn’t want to take the path before him. Neither of them. But one might let him sleep at night, even if it was from under a court martial. “Well, no reason to delay any further, nothing to be done for it.”

—--

Therapy. Was probably the only reason he wasn’t going spare. He’d made Controller take him to the therapist. Didn’t know where the man had gotten off to, he had probably already neglected his work for far too long. He’d done his own before he’d fallen apart, at least.

It was probably around dinner time now. And his other friends were still…sparse. Well he’d seen two of them. Not the one he was worried about. He was…the sort that Controller had interest in. Bad luck to the pair of them. He was being uncharitable again. Something just felt…everything just felt wrong.

God, he was glad therapists existed. And really, everyone who decided to wake up one day and just…decide that maybe they’d try something other than violence. Wasn’t sure he could do that. Wasn’t sure he’d have the choice. Could…hm

Could do what he could, as he could.

He should go get food soon. Food was always a good option. Were they feeding the prisoners? God he hoped they were. Maybe not, since they’d been releasing them throughout the day. And that - that brought him up short.

He’d wonder why they all looked so afraid, but well…they’d never tried to get him to participate in that in the province, thank fuck. He still knew about it. He understood their fear. He’d never have thought he’d seen Englishmen with that level of fear, for that reason.

He hadn’t thought he’d be asked (ordered. Ordered. Not asked) to fire upon Englishmen, even with rubber bullets. He had just been. What…what was going on? The world was tilting madly around him again.

What did it matter where they were from? He wasn’t from here, either. He did have British citizenship. And American. But he wasn’t English and even then…that hadn’t saved the people they’d fired upon yesterday.
…

Would that save him, in the end? or not?

—--





Notes, translations, etc

Sorry for the short chapter here.