sixwordstories | (no subject)

The Kurain Village. Why?

I remember how it sounded, where I came from. It's harder to hold memories of touch or taste or smell; my childhood seems insubstantial.

How are you, Claudia?

After seven, mine's about twenty different places, nothing that really felt substantial, so I understand.

I... I'm okay. How're you?

That's a lot of houses and no homes.

Are you? [It doesn't seem that way, but Mag doesn't know Claudia well enough to push for more information.] I'm fine. I've been kept busy.

Foster care. Really sucks.

Y--yeah. Just... couple hard days at work. That's all. [She manages a smile.] Busy's always good.

I'm truly sorry.

Have you been overworked? Is it anything you can talk about? That might help, a little.

[She'll understand if the answer is "no." They've been over what's off-limits. Have a faint smile in return; she'd agree if she weren't tired.]

Wasn't the horror stories you always hear. I mean, wasn't great, but it wasn't awful.

[Claudia hesitates. She can't even figure out why she's bothered by it. Well, she can, but she's not really willing to admit it to herself just yet.]

Artie... got hurt. It's... not a big deal.

I asked about friends and lovers. I never thought to ask about family. [And really, one needs the latter before the former.]

Will he be alright? Claudia, he's an important part of your life. You've mentioned him often, fondly. If this isn't a big deal, I don't know what is.

[She's used to the story, so it doesn't bother her to offer it now.] My parents died when I was four. My brother raised me until I was seven. He... disappeared, and I didn't find him again until I was nineteen.

He'll... he's all bandaged up. He's fine. Like I said, it's not a big deal. He's... my boss. That's it. Myka, Pete, Artie... We're just... co-workers. Nothing else. That's all they see me as, and it's all I see them as. [Or that's what she's trying to tell herself. Makes it easier if something does happen.]

[Mag tentatively places a hand on Claudia's shoulder, meaning to be supportive. It would be very easy to shrug off the contact, if it's unwelcome.]

This has given you a shock. We can't guarantee anything about the future, it's the nasty surprises that remind us of that. You'll have to trust Artie to recover, and to be safe. It's possible I've misunderstood, but this work with it's secrecy and privileged information; doesn't that make a bond? You've taken the same vow of silence, and now your fates are tied.

I'm just... some kid who hacked her way into the system and forced her way into the Warehouse. Only reason they've kept me around is probably because the other options are too messy.

I... He's fine, and any of us could die at any time. It's a simple fact. Nothing that should be hard to take. [She's gotten a bit attached to the wall she's built around herself for so long. Letting it come down? Is a scary thought still.]

If that were true, how could you possibly be happy there?

[She frowns, knowing all too well what the messy options are. She prefers to hope that Claudia's co-workers genuinely care for her. The alternative is too reminding of her own situation.]

I know too many people who've become completely desensitized to death. It's a laugh to them; life is cheap. I wouldn't wish that on you, and you shouldn't wish it on yourself. Death should be hard to take.

[Claudia frowns, but she can't argue.]

I made tea. And didn't even say anything to him. Just... brought it.

Pete's been joking, trying to keep things light. Myka's mad at him, but she's still... helping him carry things and all. Leena's helping take care of the wound, making him food, things like that. I just... I grab something for him if I can, but usually I just... sit there, And I don't say anything to him.

I'm totally useless.

Seventeen years ago, I felt the way you do now. My friend was very ill. Her husband was a doctor, and he monopolized her care. He did everything he could to find a cure for her condition. He worked his fingers to the bone for her. All I could do was stay by her bedside, until finally I was told I couldn't even do that. I was useless.

I had a show, the night she died. They didn't tell me until the morning. I think what you should do, and what I failed to do, is stay. Keep sitting, where you have been. Try to think of something to say, until he shoos you away. I'm sure he appreciates the company, even if he is only your boss.

...I don't even keep him company. I just... sit in the den. Or in the Warehouse, keeping up the systems, things like that. I've just been... keeping out of his way. I irritate him anyway, so.

I've just been keeping to myself.

Keeping to yourself, aside from the tea?

[Mag can hear the key word there, and it isn't the first time Claudia's used it. She tries to repeat it the same way.] I suppose what you have to do in the Warehouse is important. You could let him know you're worried, tell him what you've been doing.

[It's necessary to irritate the hell out of people -- sometimes, she thinks, that's the definition of caring. This harks back to their previous conversation.]

You really aren't a people person.

I've just been doing my job.

[She shrugs. And... without meaning to, it sort of starts coming out.]

Like I said, my parents died when I was little, and Joshua... disappeared after that for twelve years. Not his fault, though. And I... got shoved into foster care. I... appreciated the families, but never... got attached. So, they always just sort of shooed me onto the next family.

And it's... I don't know. I mean, it's only a matter of time before I'm not useful to the Warehouse anymore, and... Then it'll be time to pack up again.