twenty-eighth jump;

[ataraxites]

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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.



It's getting closer.




YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.

KEEP LOOKING.

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

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth's response is, once again, to retreat. He'd wanted to back away when Lupin had gone; he wants to back away now. But instead, he moves forward, steps in, leans against the lockers next to Sirius.

Pess, that stalwart, takes advantage of the slack in the leash to try to climb Sirius' leg. Since her favorite person is not coming down to her, she is going to try to get to him.]

The...people on the bridge survived.

[He wonders if that's even an acceptable topic to broach. He wonders if it won't turn into anger that they lived when Potter was gone.]

[doggedly]

[He smiles, bitterly, staring at Pess instead of looking at Edgeworth.]

Yeah. I saw.

[Another moment of silence, and then he gives in, a little, and leans down to give Pess his hand to sniff at, if only so she'll stop pawing at his legs.]

Good for them.

[jurisimpudent]

[Pess licks his hand enthusiastically, wholeheartedly, joyously. Edgeworth, painfully aware of that bitter note in Sirius' voice, shifts awkwardly. He ought to make small talk, ought to -

It just comes out of his mouth.]

Potter is gone, isn't he?

[doggedly]

[Sirius' mouth twists, and his fingers loosen before they tighten again, curling into fists, away from Pess. But he stays hunched, he doesn't straighten up, and he doesn't say anything. He stares down at the floor, furiously, a muscle working in his jaw.

Eventually, though:]

'Course he is.

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth - looks away. He's quiet a long time. Finally, he manages:]

I'm - sorry. It's not fair. Not when - just last month.

[Not when you just lost someone; that's what he means, haltingly and inarticulately.]

[doggedly]

Yeah, well. What does it matter. It's not like this ship keeps stock. It's not like anything about this--any of this--is fair. Right?

[He steps back, shaking free of Pess, leaning his back against the lockers with his hands shoved into his pockets.]

But hey, we had a mutiny and all those bastards get to survive that.

[jurisimpudent]

[That's edging dangerously close to they-didn't-deserve-to-live, and Edgeworth comes dangerously close to protesting the sentiment - but it's not worth it. Of course Sirius would feel bitter. Of course he'd be angry. The lot of them engaged in unmitigated idiocy and lived; James was perfectly sensible and now he's gone.

Pess, satisfied in the attention she got, sits down on Sirius' foot.]

No. It's not remotely fair. Not that we were brought here, and not that people get ripped away.

[doggedly]

[He stares down at Pess, a muscle working in his jaw. He isn't angry, at all, with her, obviously. If anything, he'd like to crouch down and pet her a bit more--never underestimate the comfort of a dog--but he ought not to need comfort. He's not a child. And last month, he was all right without Remus, he got through that all right, and he'd cried enough about it. He's still angry with himself for that.]

What were they thinking they'd do?

[He looks over at Edgeworth again, his jaw still tight.]

They got on the bridge, and then they were going to take over and, what, get us home? It doesn't matter. Nothing we do matters.

[jurisimpudent]

They were idiots.

[He shakes his head. There, at least, there's no hesitation, no uncertainty; he had said from the beginning that the course of action was idiotic, and now that they've not been killed he can assert that even more strongly.]

But that doesn't mean that more intelligent action won't work.

[doggedly]

Like what.

[He spits out the last word, his teeth grit together.]

Like what, exactly. We go over and over this, and there's never an answer. This ship does whatever the hell it wants, it takes anyone, any time, and there's nothing we can do! We can't get home--when we do get home, we can't remember being here--that's if we were ever there at all, because who's to say it's not just shoving more shit into our heads, making up memories for us--it's just one thing after another. Intelligence hasn't got anything to do with it. The ship, whoever controls it, it's got everything and we've got nothing.

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth looks down. He's quiet a moment, then he raises his shoulders in a defeated sort of shrug.]

Yes.

[doggedly]

[There's an echoing silence. Sirius stares at Edgeworth, waiting for something more. When nothing comes, he barks a laugh, short.]

'Yes', what?

[jurisimpudent]

[Another unhappy little shrug.]

Yes, you're right.

[doggedly]

[The silence is a little shorter this time, and a little more tense. Sirius stares at him, and then huffs a miserable laugh, short and sharp.]

That's it?

[jurisimpudent]

Everything you've said is technically correct.

[He looks down at Pess' ears.]

So what do we do as a result?

[doggedly]

We--

[But he cuts himself off, because there's no good answer. And there's that hopelessness, again, made sharper by the loss of James. His throat suddenly feels thick and tight, and he doesn't say anything for a moment.]

We can't do anything.

[jurisimpudent]

[A little nod, far from happy. But this is not the defeatist screed it sounds like.]

There's one thing we can do, though. We can survive.

[doggedly]

[His mouth tightens again, and he looks quickly down the locker bank, tearing his eyes away from Edgeworth.]

For how long?

[jurisimpudent]

Until we come up with something better.

[His answer is quiet.]

Because an answer will come.

[doggedly]

[He keeps staring away, and he doesn't look back at Edgeworth. That hot feeling is back behind his eyes; he swallows hard, doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't acknowledge anything, or even react, but eventually--after a long, tense pause--he sinks down, his back still against the lockers, his forearms resting on his knees and his shoulders hunched. Something of the fight bleeds out of him in that movement, leaving him bowed--still tense, but bowed.]

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth - Edgeworth looks at him a moment, and then sinks down to sit on his heels. Then he lowers himself down further, to sitting. He hesitates a moment, but -

It's easier to do now than it was before; after all, this was what he did when Remus left. He reaches out, and he pulls Sirius into a rough, fierce hug, holding him tightly, trying to give him some bracing comfort.]

[doggedly]

[He doesn't fight it off. Which speaks to where he is, really, because usually--any other day--Sirius might fight this off, or else twist away, make some joke--and he feels that urge, a little, like a crawling feeling under his skin, something that takes him back to being a first year, all prickly and angry and unused to this.

But he still doesn't shrug away. Nor does he shift into it, or lean his weight against Edgeworth--but he doesn't lean away, either, just sits, stiffly, uselessly, his hands at his sides, staring furiously over Edgeworth's shoulder.]

[jurisimpudent]

It's going to be all right.

[He's rotten at comfort, awkward and clumsy; he hugs too long, doesn't know what to say or do with his hands, doesn't read cues well. And, God, he's always so afraid in moments like this, that he'll overstep some boundary or do something wrong and wreck his friendship. So there's a measure of fear in it, doing that and saying that, but -

He's got to. The worst thing to do would be to back away like a coward. So even though his hug is awkward, and his words are meaningless, he has to try.]

I'm sorry. It's awful. But it will be all right.

[doggedly]

I hate this.

[He grates it out, roughly, and he has to shut his eyes for that moment, at least, though he still doesn't grip back at Edgeworth or move his hands or anything.]

I fucking hate this place, I want--

[He can't finish that sentence, doesn't know how, and his shoulders raise sharply even though he's in Edgeworth's grip--not to shrug away, just defencive.]

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth's arms finally loosen, just a bit, so that he can pull back.]

I know.