video;

[paterelohim]

[Chuck looks, in a word, busted. His face is tense and stressed, gelled hair messy from the wind. When he backs away from the NV it's obvious that he's posting from the top of a cliff, and seemingly hasn't noticed that it's almost time for evening sirens. He looks down solemnly, unsure how to make his announcement.]

As of Wednesday, Anna Milton is dead. [He killed her. His hands twist his shirt nervously.] If you were in Sector Four that day and saw a weird flash of bright white light- that was her.

[The smallest tense sigh.]

She's gone, and if there's any mercy left here, she won't come back the way she was. Fred hasn't come back, either, and they're far from the only ones.

[He takes a deep breath and then, a little unusually for him, looks up and right into the camera, silhouetted by the last rays of sunset.]

And there's something I think I need to say. A lot of people wonder what the point is to being here- between this much loss, so many comings and goings, and the constant knowledge that going home means forgetting the Port, you wonder if there's even a point to being here- to trying. Why does it matter, you think, if nothing here changes what happens at home.

[Chuck is making a speech here, but it has an almost pleading note. It's as genuine as it is personal.]

But if you've been here for more than a week, if you've met a single other person here and told them your name, then you've done something. If you've made a friend here or an enemy or looked someone in the eye and told them a truth you didn't think you knew, then you've done something. Maybe the epiphany you had or the feelings you expressed don't last when you go home, but the person you connected with- they'll remember. Even if you vanish tomorrow, you left a mark behind.

I lost people this week who are really important to me- one person from home who needed a second chance, and an amazing woman from a world I'll never get to see. If she comes back she might not know me- I'll never see that version of her again. That doesn't invalidate the year she spent here. It happened, and it matters, partly because she made a difference to everyone she met. She wasn't afraid to really live here.

[He falls silent for a moment, looking out over the cliff-side at the setting sun. It's getting hard to see him now in the twilight.]

Everyone you meet here is in the same boat you are. If you keep losing people here or you learn things about your future you wish you didn't know... Whether you're getting a second chance or if you're someone else's second chance- whatever the case may be, you owe it to the people around you and to yourself to try and do something with it.

Because even if you get sent home and you forget, the one thing you will never be... is forgotten.

Comments

[Audio | Private]

[magnetic_magpie]

Since neither of us are really going to be sleeping night, want to come over keep each other company?

[Audio | Private -> Action]

[paterelohim]

Yeah. Sure.

[And then, because Chuck is totally normal and fine tonight, he turns off the feed

and shows up about an hour later. After sirens. He lets himself into the HoA like it's no big deal, goes upstairs, and knocks on Mag's apartment door.]

[Action]

[magnetic_magpie]

[He had been quietly fretting.

So when Chuck lets himself in, he's too relieved to wonder what.

Instead he waits, padding to the door to let Chuck in. He's dressed all in dark greys and blues, sombre.]

Come in.

[paterelohim]

[Chuck is dressed in what the fuck ever, because he was too depressed to give shits this morning. He comes the hell in and falls over on whatever piece of furniture he bumps into first, and doesn't flinch when the cats come over and insistently sit on him by way of greeting.]

Hi.

[No word about how long it's been. He won't make this weird if Erik won't.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[And sit they do. Yali missed his scruffy face.]

Hi. Beer or vodka?

[No weird.]

[paterelohim]

Vodka.

[Flatly.]

I was the one who killed her.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He pulls the bottle from the freezer - it's not the cheap stuff, at all - and pours a generous glass. Then sticks the bottle in a chiller bucket, hands the glass to Chuck and sets the bottle near-by.]

Did she attack you?

[paterelohim]

[He answers after downing a third of the glass and hissing at the burn going down.]

Yeah.

[magnetic_magpie]

Are you -

[No, he's not all right.]

Do I need to pull my medical kit out?

[paterelohim]

No. It's okay. It's fine. I don't- need that.

[magnetic_magpie]

Ok.

[He sinks into a chair near Chuck.]

What happened?

[How did Chuck end up a target.]

[paterelohim]

[He reclines the chair, the better to curl up in it.]

I had Vonnegut with me. She was already really freaked out.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He leans towards the couch, moving slowly but smoothly, and snagging the blanket that hangs over the arm to pass over to Chuck.]

Here. Did she hurt your dog, or did he make it safety away?

[Those damned things tweaked him out, but he didn't deny Chuck loved his.]