eighteenth jump;

[mathematically]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one 



You wake up in darkness.

There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Comments

[assumedposition]

[Albert doesn't yell out this time, doesn't even flinch or exclaim. If anything, his body seems to relax slightly, and his breathing starts to return to normal.]

... Thanks. ... Sorry. I had to make sure.

[You are always in my dreams, he wants to say. You are always in my dreams. Happy dreams, sad dreams, angry dreams. But then I wake, and you are gone. And your blood is always on my hands.]

[discretion]

[Franz rubs Albert's shoulder, unsure of what else to say.]

Sure you don't want that story?

[assumedposition]

... No ...

[Albert is too tired to pretend like he's okay, just in this moment. He pulls his knees up to his chest instead, hugging them.]

Can you just ... stay here for a while?

[discretion]

Of course.

[Franz rubs his back, remembering how he comforted Albert after he cried in front of the lockers earlier today.] Let's lay down, okay? You must be tired.

[assumedposition]

Mm. I am, a little. ... Thank you.

[He shuffles over towards the wall a bit, making more room for Franz, then lies back down on his side again.]

[discretion]

Good. Now go to sleep. [Franz stretches out beside him, making out the shape of Albert's neck and shoulders in the dark. He gives his shoulder and hip a gentle squeeze. He catches himself humming a little tune, a little snippet of a remembered lullaby his nursemaid used to lull him to sleep with when he was tiny. He quiets, then, a little embarrassed at that.]

[assumedposition]

... I will.

[Albert nods, and relaxes. He doesn't mind the humming, really. It's relaxing. When Franz stops, he speaks up again, despite his promise to sleep.]

Sorry ... even here, it seems like you're still always the one comforting me, and never the other way around ...

[discretion]

Don't worry about it. You need it more than me. [Franz murmurs, resting his forehead on Albert's shoulder blade.]

[assumedposition]

[Albert's eyes flutter closed. That may be true, but... he can't help but wonder if Franz doesn't have his own demons he's not talking about. Dying couldn't have been easy. On the contrary... it must have been terrifying, Albert thinks. All this time, he's only been thinking about the impact Franz's death had on him-- never really stopped to consider the effect it might have had on Franz himself. Albert sighs. His next words come sleepily.]

... I really feel like ... sometimes I don't understand you at all, Franz.

[discretion]

[The quietest laugh emerges in the darkness.]

You really are

[Albert is so close. He should wrap his arms around the smaller boy, but his fingers are pulled in tight to his chest instead]

such an idiot...

[Franz's voice is soft, dreamy.]

[assumedposition]

[There's a soft chuckle in reply.]

Takes one to know one, idiot...

[discretion]

Yeah.

It does.

[Franz lapses into silence, now, but he doesn't fall asleep right away. That won't come for a long time, he suspects.]

[assumedposition]

[After Franz falls silent, Albert curls himself inwards and shuffles closer until his forehead is almost (but not quite) close enough to touch Franz's chest. Franz is here, he is real, and for some strange reason, still wants to provide comfort to the best friend who got him killed. Albert relaxes then as he drifts off to a much better quality of sleep.]