logsinthenight | East Exploration Mingle (CLOSED)

[It's okay, Crowley. It knows where you're lacking. Nowhere the Soldier can't make up for, itself.

Also, watching the guy on the verge of nodding off is actually kinda cute.]

There are others here who might be easier to wake up.

[And not so falling-down-tired right now. And who aren't the Soldier's direct responsibility to look out for.]

[Being tired is really annoying. What Crowley wouldn't give for a double espresso right now. Or a latte with an extra shot or...]

Yeah, maybe, but I've got---I've got some skills that they don't have, I'm sure---

[He nods his head forward again and his sunglasses fall off of his face onto the ground.]

[Okay, yeah. Definitely cute. The Soldier almost makes a smile. But it does come around to collect the sunglasses, so no one steps on them. It says, quieter than usual,]

You should sleep. Go lay down.

[Never tell Crowley he's cute. He'll fight you to the death for his own honor.

Crowley's eyes snap open and it's very plain to see for anyone looking in that moment that Crowley doesn't have human eyes. No, his eyes are yellow with long, slitted pupils, like a snake's. He reaches out to grab the sunglasses quickly and stuff them back on his face.]

Right, sorry, didn't---rest enough last night. Bit too much hiking for me. Out of my wheelhouse.

[Huh. Not the weirdest thing the Soldier's ever seen, particularly since coming here, but more telling is how quickly he hid them again. And how he's stammering now. Obviously uncomfortable. The fact that the Soldier's been living with Crowley for more than a week and it hasn't seen them before.

(Holy shit is it another alien. Is it? Shut up. He's self-conscious, is what he is, and we're not going to do anything to make that worse.)

So the Soldier turns its briefly softer expression into the usual bland one and says,]

I'm not carrying you when we move again. So you'll have to rest up now.

[Crowley doesn't need them all knowing what he is. Humans panic. Humans detest what they don't understand. He doesn't need them all afraid. The human soldier person doesn't seem afraid, but he does change his expression, albeit just a little bit. Crowley has no idea what that means, but it must mean something.]

Yeah, all right. I'll set an alarm.

[He pulls out his mobile and sets one quickly.]

Keep an eye on Aziraphale, though.

[The Soldier is afraid all the time. Just not of Crowley having weird eyes. After this long, it's lost a lot of its fear regarding Crowley. (Not Aziraphale. It doesn't understand Aziraphale as well, but Crowley is clearly an even more harmless handler than Misty.) Having funny eyes isn't going to change that.

It climbs back to its feet, stepping out of Crowley's way if the handler wants to find a better place to lay down, instead of trying to sleep sitting up by the fire.]

Of course. He should sleep, too.

[Easier to keep an eye on them if they're together.]

Yeah, he sleeps less than I do. Less practice at it.

[Crowley looks back up at the human soldier person. After the adrenaline shock of having his sunglasses suddenly missing, Crowley feels a bit more awake. Or, at least, not like he's about to nod off at any given moment.]

How's the couch been treating you, anyway? Haven't been a good flatmate and checking on you, suppose we should have done, but...

[This is not going to sleep, Crowley. The Soldier glances at him back, sidelong.]

The couch is fine. Better than a lot of places. And it's my job to check on you, not for you to check on me. Don't worry about it.

[Remember, Handler? You're still the boss, Crowley, even if it's not particularly afraid of you anymore. Also, that last bit sounds more casual than usual. A bit of Brooklyn, if Crowley recognizes American accents.]

[Crowley likes the casual. It's far better than being treated like the boss. He only likes being treated like the boss when he's using people---which is a lot----but not what he's doing with the human soldier person.]

Sounds like you've been to a lot of those places.

[A pause]

You don't have to go back to those place when we leave here. You can go anywhere you want.

[The bit of casual bleeds away. It shrugs, looking out across the fire, looking for potential threats out in the dark. Doing its job.]

Where else would I go.

You could come to London. Plenty to do there. Could set you up with the Witchfinder's Army. You'd give Shadwell a run for his money.

[He doubts the human soldier person would find that as funny as Crowley does.]

But, really. You could go anywhere. Do anything you wanted. They think you're dead.

There's HYDRA in London, too. Branches all over Europe. And this kinda stands out.

[The plates in the Soldier's metal arm expand with a noisy whirring noise, then collapse back to their normal positions.

It really doesn't want to go back to HYDRA. If the handler's scheme to go back works, it doesn't know what it will do. Follow Crowley and Aziraphale around and hope HYDRA doesn't swoop in and shoot them both in their attempt to retrieve it? Find the stupid former target and beg to be given new orders? To be locked up? Just give in to the inevitable and go back on its own?

(No. No, not gonna do that. No fucking way.)

The arm plates ripple one more time before settling.]

You've got more powerful friends than whatever HYDRA is.

[A beat.]

What the hell is HYDRA, anyway? Sounds like something my lot would've made up.

[It's gonna take a lot to make the Soldier think you're more powerful than HYDRA, pal. Funny eyes or not. (Aziraphale has more of a chance. Slightly more.)]

HYDRA was the Nazi science division in World War II. They survived the war, learned from their mistakes, and started trying to take over the world from the shadows instead of the daylight.

Nazis. [He makes a face] I hate Nazis. Too many of them where I'm from.

[It explains a bit of why the human soldier person doesn't want to return to them. Well, besides the torture and the brainwashing and all the other horrific stuff that Aziraphale and Crowley have been discovering over their time with the human soldier person.]

Do you have...I don't know? Family? Friends?

[That makes two of them. The Soldier has spent more time with Nazis than it ever wanted to.

The question makes it blink once, long and slow.]

No. Only people have those.

And you're an asset, not a person, right.

[Crowley crosses his arms and gives the human soldier person a long look. He's in there, somewhere. Crowley can see it. He can hear it, in the things he occasionally says.

Aziraphale should be doing this. Crowley's built a reputation on Not Caring.]

Do you remember friends or family before you were an asset? You're from...where? New York, right?

[You do a really bad job at keeping up that reputation, Crowley. Really bad.

The Soldier actually twitches at the mention of New York, the plates in its arm rearranging again with a metallic hum. Struck a bit of a cord there, even if it refuses to acknowledge it.]

No. I remember the time since I died. I remember one day before, my last mission. Before that. Just. Impressions. Protocols. Skills.

[It knows things without necessarily remembering them, but isn't sure how to explain that. None of the things it knows-but-not-remembers are people that could be considered friends or family.]

[Crowley's eyebrow goes up at the twitch. He's not the best with accents----though he has finally been able to tell the difference between Welsh and Irish---but he has seen enough American movies to know a New York accent when he hears it. No, this human soldier person has a past, and it happened somewhere in New York.]

Protocols and skills---meh. You know what's fun? People. It's what I've always loved about my job. Getting to see them being all clever in their own ways, watching them do their thing about the world.

You must've known people---not just handlers and techs. Real people.

[If there were, those memories are gone. They're gone. Why keep prodding at the gaping hole? It hurts. It's just a reminder of how not-a-person it is.]

I don't remember.

[It comes out lower this time, maybe a little rougher, and the Soldier stares at the fire now instead of the darkness. The plates in its arm keep shifting, clinking and whirring.]

But it's still there, isn't it?

[Crowley leans forward, tilting his head to the side to watch the human soldier person's face.]

Inside. You can feel it.

[The Soldier's expression has settled into blankness, but the fixed nature of its gaze and the continual movement of the arm plates show that it's still disturbed. When it speaks, it's voice is flat, but trembles just a little.]

Why do you care about this.

What I want to know is why you don't.

If I had a big mystery all wrapped up in my head, I'd be doing anything to get it out.

[There's a long pause while the Soldier wrestles with what to say. Finally, it says, voice even more quiet,]

I care.

[And, because that's not something it's ever supposed to tell a handler, even one like Crowley, the Soldier shudders and shuts its eyes, briefly.]

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