ph_logs | [OPEN] January Catch-All

Her mothers, alive. Keaton, who'd never left home. Her colony, thriving in a way it never had the chance to. The haze of a dream smothers the rest of the details, but she can take guesses: Rat, alive and her friend more than her brother's; Needles and Keaton together, probably; her own old friends never sent off to war... new friends, able to come by.

"...yeah," she breathes, resting her whole head on her arm, hair dangling over the back of the chair. "Except add in the fact that if I actually let myself think about it in detail for too long, I feel like— like I'm just going to lose it. And I don't— I don't have time for that now any more than I had time for it every other time I was teetering on an edge in the last few years."

"I understand that, too. And, if you say you need to bury it still, well, I'll grab a shovel to help. I don't want to do you more harm than good. You do need to be aware that sooner or later, you're gonna have to look that monster in the eyes." The weight behind his eyes speaks of the monsters he's faced already. She's met one of them.

"My advice is to make sure you have someone around to hold your hand for you when you finally do. You don't have to do this alone now. You don't have to keep secrets the same way. That's my two cents."

She remembers, knows the feeling in his eyes. They've both seen more than their fair share of demons and losses. She breathes out through her nose and drums her fingers against the back of the chair.

"I've— been trying to be a little better about that, but it's... I don't know. Since the nightmares it's been one thing after another. There's someone else from the program around, now, and that's—" she huffs a breath, a wordless 'oh, boy', then shrugs. "Anyway. I— talked to Ripley about some things we saw in our joint nightmare, at least, but I— I think you're the only person here who could've walked into that dream and realised what was wrong with it."

"Someone else you knew?" That gets his attention. He should make a point to say hello, but maybe not right away so it won't be so weird. "I like Ripley. Damn good pilot and friend. I ended up in one of her nightmares, too, so I... have an idea what you saw." Again, he is not going to let on that he is already familiar with Ripley's story before that. No one needs to know.

"It's because I knew what was wrong that I knew I was asking a lot from you in there," he says softly. "I wanna thank you for putting you trust in me. I don't take that lightly." It took a lot of bravery for her to listen to him and turn away from the sweet fantasy. Not everyone could have.

"Mm. Turns out we have some— overlapping history, let's say." Android trauma, most specifically. Though there's broad strokes of other things. "And we get on well. She's been... she's been great."

It's the fastest she's come to be able to trust a person—at least, as far as she can trust anyone, still—since she got here. Sometimes that feels weird. Sometimes it's just... a relief.

"And— yeah, my old squad leader, to be exact. It's... well it's a bit fraught. Running into her is the reason I was late the other day."

Fraught is putting it lightly, but she doesn't immediately get into it, instead:

"...I trust you, Crichton. I'm sure that's why the dream folded you in so easily and why I didn't just roll my eyes and leap over a railing or something the second you started pushing back against it."

He smiles in a way that hints that he might be forming a new suspicion about how CT and Ripley really get along, and how maybe it will be more than friends soon. He'd be very happy for both of them in that case, but it's probably too early to suggest a double date.

"It feels good to hear you say you trust me that way. I feel the same, and I'm sure you would have done the same if situations were reversed. But... your squad leader?" The smile turns to a concerned frown. "I was just about to mark you as dead on the roll call that day, too. Are you okay? Did that meeting get physical?"

Trust him to always have more questions.

"I would've," she confirms. She would've done her best, at least—sometimes the self-doubt about how much good she's ever been capable of doing still gets under her skin.

The questions don't surprise her. There's something reassuring to how everyone who finds out worries enough to ask.

"I'm fine, it didn't turn into a fight. She doesn't seem to want a fight, I gave her every opening, even put a gun in her hand, but she's... I don't know, different. Things have changed since I died, apparently. All the others are dead, too. Almost all of them, anyway."

"You put a gun in her hand?" She's getting both raised eyebrows for that one, but not for the reason she might think. He can remember the time he did something similar (it ended much worse) so he understands, painfully, where the logic comes from.

"I'm sorry, CT, for all of it, but I'm glad your squad leader didn't want a fight because I'm not convinced you deserve that. Clearly, neither was she. I guess my next question is how do you want me to approach her?" Because he's going to. That part is certain, he's just trying to get a sense for how hot he should be coming in on it.

"She wanted to test out the weaponry here. I figured either she'd shoot me and I'd learn something, or she wouldn't shoot me and I'd still learn something while also having offered a sort of... fucked up olive branch, I don't know."

An olive branch of wood, metal and gunpowder. Yeah. She realises how grim that is.

It was a risk. One she considers to have been properly calculated, and that showed her Carolina wasn't going to just attack her for no reason, but a risk nonetheless.

She picks at the scar across her palm as she thinks about the second answer, chewing at the corner of her lip thoughtfully. "...honestly, I don't know. There's no use in hostility, but be... cautious, I'm still not sure how much she's changed in the last few years. She was a good leader, once, I just couldn't trust her and, apparently, she followed the Director's orders until the program fell apart around her. She's turned on him now, but... I don't know."

Not knowing so many things is something that's driving her more than a little mad.

"She knows I work here and she knows I have friends, so she shouldn't be too surprised if you know who she is. She's, uh—5'11" or so, red hair, green eyes. Like, vibrantly red and green, it's hard to miss. And her codename is Carolina. The Director named us all after states."

Edited 2025-04-25 17:51 (UTC)

The look he's giving her begs to question how smart of a calculated risk that actually was but since he's not interested in throwing stones in glass houses The Look(tm) is all she gets.

He's also taking the time to more seriously consider her second answer. A lot of those notes are starting to sound familiar. Was she a leader who wanted to believe in the cause so much that she only woke up to the truth once it was almost too late? Sad, but common. Not, however, unsalvageable. It's always better late than never.

"So I'm looking for a red-headed pistol. Think I'll manage that just fine. And, before you get too worried, I'll be nice. Cross my heart. I'll hear her out before I make any judgment calls." He can't promise more than that but he intends to be fair about it.

"Why states? You didn't have a Florida in your team, did you? That's where I hail from."

She huffs the faintest laugh at the words red-headed pistol, lips quirking despite herself. "Good luck."

She's not too worried about how he'll handle it. Really, if she's worried about anyone's behaviour in that interaction, it's Carolina's, but Crichton's good at adapting on the fly. He'll figure it out.

"I'm not actually a hundred percent sure why the Director chose states, except that he's an Earthborn American himself. He lived in Texas for most of his adult life, I think?" He seemed to have a fondness for the state, anyway, possibly through his wife. "But we had every— or, no, almost every state. There was only one Carolina. So, yeah, we— had a Florida. He was... strange."

Being generous. He actually fucking terrified her, by the end, featured in her nightmares. Hard to think about him without flinching.

Crichton is confident he can crack any nut with enough persistence. Usually. ...Is the confidence warranted? That another matter.

"Texas," he huffs, "That'll do it. Never met a Texan that didn't love to tell me he's a Texan. Did he wear a gallon hat and all?" He's joking, but he's also not going to be surprised if the answer is actually yes.

He's not surprised his own beloved state of Florida has that kind of representation either if he's really being honest with himself. "Strange sounds about right. A certain class of guys from the ol' sunshine state used to make mixing too much sun, boats, and beer as a hobby. And I'm not even talking about the military base."

She shakes her head with a huff of a laugh. "No, he didn't, that probably would've been too close to actually fun of him."

And he wasn't exactly about much fun outside of his own dickwaving behaviour. Which was only fun for him.

"Our Florida was... for most of my time with the program I knew him as the oddly cheerful guy who'd turn up, say something weird or ominous, then disappear again. By the end he was an active threat. He was one of the Director's right hands and he— nearly caught me, a couple times. Once was very close. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life."

Aw, what a shame, he thinks. Not even the fun kind of Texan. He sets aside any more joking about that, however, when she reveals more about Florida.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'll quit poking fun at it in that case. No need to bring up any other bad memories for you."

CT waves him off. "It's fine, I'd rather detooth the idea of him than let him keep— sticking in my head the way he does. One of the nightmares someone came through with me actually ended in me managing to kill the bastard, which was... cathartic, at least."

She's had that particular nightmare a little less, since. Which is one silver lining of that whole mess.

"He really did used to just be... odd. Eccentric. Once he walked in on us talking about which kinds of weapons were worse, the standard kind or the Covvie plasma kind, and said something like—" she waves a hand around vaguely, "a hole in your body's not a big deal because every body has holes in and you can always add more if needed! And we just stood there after he walked away wondering what the hell just happened."

"Yeah? That's nice you got a little revenge fantasy in there." Listen, he is not going to judge when he knows he'd have done the same thing if he'd gotten a shot at a dream Scorpius.

"I don't know, man, sounds like more than one screw was loose in the guy. Shame it turned out that way for you all. He's not doing anything to help the reputation of my fair state, I'll tell ya that. But what he said wouldn't have sounded that out of pocket for the kind of guys you'd meet down at the surf during low tide, either."

"Maybe the Director gave him his state because he recognised the vibe," CT jokes, touch of a crooked smile on her lips. "Actually I wouldn't be surprised if he did have reasons like that for state assignments. He gave the twins North and South Dakota and, well, I was actually rather surprised they gave me Connecticut. Given their emphasis on not sharing our real names. Not that I complained."

It was convenient, getting to go by the nickname she'd gone by all her life. Until she became CT, at least.

"That's what I'm thinkin'." Maybe it was intended as a warning.

"Connie..." he says, a little subdued. "You ever consider going back to that or... is that something you'd rather leave buried?"

"...I don't know."

It comes after a long pause. CT picks at the scar across her palm, not bothering to stop herself this time.

"It came up a lot in those nightmares. Like— like they were bashing me over the head with it. I told Ripley not to use it." Hasn't had a chance to talk to Gaeta yet, but she has a feeling he won't bring it up unprompted anyway. A lot more happened in that dream that's more... pressing. "Every time Carolina said it I wanted to rip the word out of her mouth. I told her Connie died the day Massachusetts did. She tried to tell me I was letting the Director win by saying that."

She huffs dismissively at that.

"Massachusetts was another team member, I take it." He's assuming, based on context. Sounds like a perfectly valid reason to him.

"Listen, no one has the right to tell you how to feel about it. It's not about the Director, it's about you. If that name doesn't feel like it fits anymore, then that's all I need to hear."

A vague affirmative noise.

"Mass was... the only other agent who worked primarily on intelligence—on data, coding. We spent hours together in the computer centre and we—" she laughs, emptily, "hated each other, for most of that time. Ze didn't like hackers and I didn't like zir attitude. But I took a chance and asked for help when I realised what was going on. Mass had experience with AI, so... it made sense at the time. Then, when Command tried to have me killed the first time, they succeeded in killing Mass."

Pure luck, that she herself survived. If Wyoming hadn't taken a stray bullet she'd have died on the motorway at the other end of his gun, blood pooling on the asphalt. Mass didn't get lucky. Mass was dropped off and left to die.

"I hid behind that. I let them think they'd disposed of their mole. And— and I think the moment I truly realised that it was my fault, that I got Mass killed, that's when CT started to feel real."

Before it had just been a name, just something she told the others on a whim when she was angry as she started to see through the smoke, but that night it became real. That night CT became her and Connie became... something else.

"...I don't really know where the line is, anymore."

His heart sinks for her. No wonder she'd been so determined to do it all alone when she got here. It makes perfect sense now why she pushes so hard.

"Maybe... there isn't one right answer. Maybe one stays private and the other stays public." That was something he fell into himself. Everyone calls him Crichton, but only his friends get to use John.

"Maybe it'll just take more time until you pick it all apart again. Either way, you don't have to figure it out alone."

It's a relief not to hear assurances that it wasn't her fault. Whether it's objective truth or not, it still feels that way and no one's likely to change her mind. If anything, it'd only piss her off.

"Maybe." She's getting better at accepting that none of this is something she had to deal with alone, but it's— harder than most things, this. So firmly something that only seems to make sense in her own head. Explaining it aloud makes her feel insane. "They don't— feel like the same person. Connie was... a lot of things that CT can't be. Isn't."

Except the divide isn't that cut and dry. It hasn't been in a long time, if it ever truly was.

She snorts, self-directed derision. "Connie doesn't even like coffee."

CT drinks multiple cups a day.

He knows firsthand that telling someone it wasn't their fault when they believe to their marrow that it was won't do a damn thing. And what if it really was? Sometimes, good intentions still lead to fatal mistakes. They owe it to the people they've failed not to brush it off or risk making the same mistake twice. That's how he feels.

"Life is nothing but maybes." Piles of them, all leading to uncertain ends. But she doesn't have to defend her sanity to John Crichton of all people.

He snickers at her admission. Seriously? He thought she loved it the way she sucks it down. "You know they make caffeinated tea, too? Or I could just use a spell to pep you up. Maybe we can let Connie have one small win?"

"Unless you're planning on being at the office 'til the early hours or in my house, you can't always hit me with a spell, but I appreciate the thought." She pats the back of his hand and sighs. "Maybe if I could find tea with enough kick. Even coffee used to be the compromise so I didn't overdose on energy supplements or requisition too many stim-packs. I had to save the energy drinks for the daytime so no one realised I'd started drinking coffee."

There were a lot of little things like that. Everyone was calling her CT by then, but she was still meant to be the person Connie was in front of everyone else. Being her old self was as much a mask as CT had started out, by the end, and now... here they are.

[OPEN] January Catch-All

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