acautionarytale | FLUFF BREAK

FLUFF BREAK

Astrid hadn't been kidding when she said this house had plenty of room. It's a big, sprawling, two-storey... thing on a corner in a residential district that's slowly putting itself back together. Sure the place looks a little worn on the outside....

...But on the inside she's managed to make it an actual home. The place used to belong to a Loyalist couple who, sadly, no longer need it. Astrid has, interestingly, made a habit of appropriating abandoned Loyalist property, mainly because the current provisional governmant considers them forfeit. First come first served, and it seems the Fringe team won't ever have to pay for anything again in this area. So she moved out all the Loyalist propaganda and managed to get in some real furniture and decor. It's a warm and inviting and roomy place that needs explored.

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He knows how to think like October, if there's one thing. Walter and the others had it harder all those years ago.

"Yes, I do. All the time." To the point where he takes it for granted now. Good for him.

He nods, "And yes. One of the many ways to make someone feel welcomed and cared for."

"Does it not become... overwhelming?"

Astrid hasn't let go of Donald, and shifts slightly so she can still snuggle him and also watch October's reactions.

"Sometimes. Sometimes you need to take a step back and... be alone."

And make yourself cry on purpose, deliberately. Or hit things. Or both.

"Does solitude help to ease overstimulation?" He seems a little dubious, especially seeing how everyone in that film seem to prefer to blurt out what they were experiencing, often in elabourate detail. "It appears as though it is preferable to describe the sensations aloud, but..." the hint of a thoughtful expression twitches at his brows. "Perhaps the variable between the two decisions resides in whether there is someone to listen to one speak."

"I kept up my journal after my device was removed. Writing down my thoughts and sensations helped as much as conversation did."

Odd to keep blabbering with Astrid being so quiet.

"What are you feeling right now?"

She's listening and watching October, quietly filing his reactions away in her memory so she can figure out what to do next on this apparent road to humanity that these people are going to end up walking.

October stops and thinks, gauging his own condition. "I feel... I do not know if I have the right words. I... wish to experience taste and smell but I know that I cannot and it is... slightly painful?" His hand absently rubs his chest.

"That's regret," Astrid says quietly.

"Does it occur often?"

"Yes. But it's not necessarily bad. It can make a person more determined to fix whatever is wrong."

"But this... cannot be changed..."

Astrid opens her mouth to speak, but stops. She's out of her depth, now.

Astrid has someone to help, this time--which is good, she can't possibly remember the first case of contagious humanity.

"It's been done once before, though I don't remember what equipment they used, how they did it..."

She doesn't. The memory-wipe was very good, after all.

Still, she winces slightly at the mention of what had been done to him and her arms unconsciously tighten around him even though she keeps her head turned, watching October.

October goes very quiet for a moment.

"I..." he starts, then stops. "I am conflicted..."

He looks a bit frightened, actually, but only a bit.

He looks sideways at Astrid, curious as to where that came from--her sudden protectiveness? If that's what it is.

"Perhaps... if someday we can find a device, an implant left behind in the world, I can find a way to modify it a little."

Honestly, he doesn't know that much about they're made. It wasn't his job, nor October's. And without the 2600s' equivalent of factory machines... it's like trying to cobble together a computer chip by hand.

It is a bit of a protective streak, isn't it? She doesn't want to see Donald hurt... and she's starting to feel the same way about October.

Observer den-mother? Probably.

October looks a bit puzzled at the idea and Astrid sighs, leaning her head against Donald for a moment.

"Walter could have figured it out..." and then the morose mood lifts, just like that. "But we probably could, if we can find the right notes."

October's rather like a child discovering new things... so why shouldn't she be?

"We can only do so much. First we find the others... and get you all well."

He is, isn't he? It's also strangely and vaguely familiar to her, though she has no idea why.

The look on October's face, however, stops her musings. There's something resembling... fear. He'd shown it before, in Peter's home, that deer-in-headlights stare. It's back again.

"What's wrong?"

There's a pause before October answers. "We can... save them? I have... I have doubts. They are troubling."

"With good planning, we can." He's firm on this, he has to be. "Look what's already been done, all the people they've saved."

Sure, they're down Olivia and Walter... but they can. He has to keep on hoping.

"Exactly," Astrid chimes in. She's been trying to get her optimism to rub off on other people. Maybe it's working. "If you feel up to it, we can start figuring out where everyone is, tomorrow. Does that sound good?"

There's a pause, and then October nods once. "That will be... that is... that is good. Yes."

Astrid smiles and reaches out, patting October's hand. He looks down at it curiously.

Optimism isn't hard, if he logics himself into it. He's alive, he's healing, they can save what's left of his team, and one of them will surely be able to zip him off to Oslo, where Michael and Walter are. It can still be okay.

"Peter was mistaken about me. I won't let the others suffer."

Astrid looks back at him, smiling. That why she likes you, Donald. You're a good person.

October manages to not so much look relieved as to cease looking worried, returning to his usual expressionless state, albeit a rather sleepy variation on it.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "It is... good to hear such things."

To hell with whoever did this to the nice few, honestly. Two wrongs don't make a right.

"Good, it should be. ... I'll be right back."

Going to get a glass of water and do the medication thing, yup.

When Donald returns, Astrid is tucking a blanket around a drowsing October. He's mumbling something about how he can't be of any use when he's sleeping so much and she's shushing him gently, patting his shoulder.

She looks up when Donald enters her peripheral vision and smiles. October mumbles something too quiet to catch.

That.

That is a sweet thing.

Secondhand warm fuzzies.

"You like him?"

Astrid looks down at October, who is once again asleep.

"I... don't dislike him," she answers, then looks at Donald again. "This is all really familiar, though. I... did something like this for you, too, didn't I?"

"You do like him, though."

He raises an eyebrow at her, curious. "Yes... I suppose some part of you remembers. Your subconscious."

A thought sticks in Astrid's mind. It's a silly thought, but she has to ask on it, anyway.

"Donald... are you trying to set me up with him?" She can't keep the amused tone out of her voice.

...What.

"Of course I'm not, that would be a disaster. He's confused enough already."

"You're right. It would." It's not her fault you sounded as though you were two inches from asking 'but do you like-like him?'

Besides, she likes you a lot more, Donald. But don't tell her I said that.

"I want him to be safe and... well... as happy as he can be, anyway, so I guess I do like him, in a way," she finally says thoughtfully.

October has a new friend. Adorable.

"He can be... something like happy. Content. I spent more time feeling alright than not."

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