Participants:
| Scene Title | Sink/Swim |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Are you gonna sink or swim? From coast to coast, it's more than you bargained for. |
| Date | July 8, 2021 |
Ruins of Rising Sun
Wisconsin
July 8th
2021
Evening
To say it;s been a long day would be an understatement.
Robyn Quinn has had enough of it, to be honest, and the fact that it's almost over is a weight all it's own slowly lifting off her shoulders. Tomorrow would be a new day, with new worries, new problems, and new opportunities for old problems to come back around. She just had to wash her luck and her stress, and get there.
Step one to that goal: Get some dinner.
Someone had been smart enough to barter for more food supplies while they were in New Chicago, and now she was reaping the rewards of that, with two wood bowls of soup secured. Still sporting a limp from the day's events, both bowls rest across one arm, held close like a waitress making careful strides across a restaurant, her other hand gripping her new cane tightly.
She could probably get it taken care of tomorrow, her brand new injury. Probably should. Yet, she's not sure she's going to. Not with the anger she has lingering inside right now. The only thing she is sure of is who she seeks to share her second bowl of soup with; it's not for herself, but rather for the woman she seeks.
Stepping from the campfire, her eyes scan around for Cat, hoping to catch her a bit away from the others.
There’s plenty of space for hide and seek in the ruins of Rising Sun. It’s a ghost town in every sense of the word, looking like almost nothing has changed in the decade since the Flood wiped the old world away. War and water never reached this tiny town, but one strife or another drove its residents off. Now the town center, which consists of a few abandoned RVs, an automotive garage, and a general store are overgrown and sagging into disrepair.
Tay and some of the others are looting the garage for whatever might pass as supplies, someone is under the RV detaching hoses that haven’t rotted through, and someone else is siphoning gasoline from the tank. But not the person Robyn is looking for.
Cat is sitting on the stoop of the general store, holding a dusty harmonica in her hands, turning it over like a raccoon might a shiny piece of metal. She doesn’t notice Robyn’s arrival, rather fixed on the sounds of birds and the breeze, and her shiny piece of plunder.
Keeping quiet while trying to carry to occasionally clattering bowls of soup across one arm, while keeping steady with a cane in the opposite hand is certainly a challenging endeavor, but Cat's intense focus on the harmonica certainly helps Robyn be as stealthy as she's always fancied herself to be.
As she comes up upon the general stair entrance, she holds the bowls close and stands still, more to keep herself from flinching if Cat reacts loudly to the incoming surprise.
"Do you know how to play?" is how Robyn chooses to get the other woman's attention, smirking as she angles her gaze down at the small instrument. A second question of is it clean enough to passes unanswered as she turns and sets her cane to lean against the adjacent wall, pulling one bowl from her arm with her now free hand. "Fancy some dinner?"
Cat angles a look up at Robyn, smiling with a shake of her head. “Can’t carry a tune if it had handles,” she admits with a lopsided quality joining her smile. She trades the harmonica to Robyn for the bowl, then offers an inspecting look at its contents.
“Always impressed by what people manage to throw together for meals out here.” Cat remarks, cradling the bowl in both hands while looking past Robyn to the RV. “Elliot seems to have taken to becoming the convoy’s chef, in as much as we need one of those.” She looks back to Robyn. “How’re you holding up?”
The look Robyn gives Cat is one of flat, sarcastic disbelief. She thinks it's bullshit, but she's slowly learning that the differences in people across timelines are as vast as they are intricate, and skill is by no means consistent. Still, she chuckles a bit, setting her bowl down and reaches into her back pocket and produces a flask. She waves it back and forth in her hand, but offers no clarification on if she's offering, or if that's an indicator of how she's holding up.
Slowly she lowers herself down beside Cat, trying her best to not let the pain still radiating through her partially healed wound and bones show. With a grunt she pulls the bowl around and this time sets it down in front of her as she examines the harmonica. "I'm existing," is a quiet admittance. "That's about the best I have right now." She exhales sharply, sliding the harmonica into the palm of her hand as she unscrews the top of the flask carefully.
"I'm just glad we have a chef of any stripe," she offers as a way of dodging further elaboration as she holds the flask up. Rather than drinking from it, she begins to pour the contents over the harmonica. "Can you imagine if we had to fend for ourselves? I can cook, sure, but I'm used to a grocery store, not the wilderness."
“Honestly? I think existing is a pretty good standard for living.” She smiles and looks up at Robyn, watching with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as she douses the harmonica. “Does that… help it play better? Some sort of” she wrinkles her nose, “old musician’s trick?”
What Cat gets in return is an amused snort as shakes the harmonica, producing a small piece of old, but mostly clean cloth form her pocket. "I wish," Robyn muses with a chuckle. "I figure alcohol is the closest I have to any kind of cleaner or disinfectant, so…"
Well, and she could probably stand to drink less of it.
Holding the instrument carefully, she starts attempting to clean it until it at least looks safe to play again, as much as anything recovered in the wilderness can be. "It's a thin line, existing." She pauses, wrinkling her nose. "Wait, no. Let me try that again, that sounds a tad dramatic, doesn't it?"
With a heavy sigh, she slows down cleaning the harmonica, settling it still wet down on her lap. "Though I guess I have a hard time not being dramatic, particularly on days when I barely make it through alive." Still a tad dramatic, really.
“I think we can afford a little drama on a road trip like this one.” Cat admits with a crooked smile, watching Robyn clean the harmonica. “Not the best I’ve ever been on, somehow also not the worst.” Her smile twists playful. “Folks took me on a week long cross-country once when I was fifteen. Absolute worst time. Everybody argued the whole way. I’ll take bandits any day.”
Though Cat’s tone is light, her heart isn’t. The levity masks a genuine sense of loss. The ambush days back bled the innocence out of the trip. The time in Chicago punctuated it. The mainland is harsh and cruel, and they’re not even halfway to their destination yet. Slouching her shoulders, Cat reaches up and threads a lock of dark hair behind one ear.
“Y’know, when we dropped the Sentinel, I thought this’d all get better.” Cat’s voice is low, as if she doesn’t want to be overheard. “Taking down the Confessor, their fleet. Felt like we were invincible. Like the Pelago would always be there. I dunno what’s got you and yours here…” Cat looks out to the convoy vehicles parked in a row, “not really. But it’s…” she sighs, turning her attention to Robyn. “The others haven’t wanted to say it, but we’ve all got a feeling there’s something worse than the Sentinel coming.”
The look in Cat’s eye pleads with Robyn for this to not be true. For once, she wants things to be easier.
That questioning look in Cat's eyes, the earnestness in her voice - it's almost too much for Robyn, chewing on her lip for a moment before she turns to face to face Cat more directly. "There's always something else," she admits in a low voice. "It's an inescapable lesson I've learned. I'm told it's cynical, and I guess it is, but…"
Sliding over a bit so she's closer to Cat, she reaches over and drapes an arm across those slouched shoulders. "I've also been told I should stop thinking so much about how things are going to be, and more about how things are. My better self thinks it'd be good for my anxiety. If something worse is coming, and we know it… don't we just end up living in fear of that day, obsessing over it? And then any opportunity we had for an easier life in the meantime is gone."
Speaking from experience on this one, she is. Still, something about this doesn't quite feel right, despite her desire to not inflict on Cat what was inflicted on her. Fingers curl around the harmonica, a glance given over to the cooling soup. "Sod this," she mutters to herself, looking off into the distance as she considers her thoughts.
“One of the medics who worked with Doctor Brennan used to talk like that.” Cat says quietly, idly watching the rest of the convoy as they stretch their legs at this pit stop. “He was always convinced things would get worse before they got better. People called him a cynic.” Cat pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “Then one day he just… fell over and died. Like someone just flipped an off switch.”
Cat rests her cheek on the back of her knees and looks over at Robyn. “Magnes used t’tell me that you can always worry about what’s coming next. Always plan for the worst. But usually what gets you is what you never expected.” She closes her eyes and listens to the ambient sound of the convoy members distant voices. “He’s never been proven wrong in my eyes.”
Robyn stares ahead for a long moment before furrowing her brow. "I'm- sorry. I'm not really the best at reassurances," she says quietly. "I still have a tendency to see the world in grays." Still, she frowns, something Cat said having stuck out to her. "What was that medic's name, outta curiosity?" Something for her to file away later, for research. She's heard the phrasing "like someone flipped an off switch" before, and even among everything else it still sticks out to her.
Exhaling sharply, she musters the faintest of smiles as she looks back at Cat. "What other kinds of things did Magnes used to say?" That whole sentence feels weird in her mouth, but this time she manages to not show it. The hand on Cat's shoulder squeezes. "Hit me with some more good advice. Lord knows I need it, even if I don't listen."
“A lot of fortune cookie stuff.” Cat admits with a wry smile. “I’m not sure if he was officially Buddhist but he said a lot of things that vibed like he was. He was just… unflappable. Guy threw himself at a fucking ballistic missile without a second thought.” She closes her eyes, slowly shaking her head. Then, as a smile creeps up on her lips she adds, “Life is like a road trip,” he told me once. “You know where you’re going, but you might not always take the route you planned.” She laughs. “Don’t forget to stop to pee, either.”
Looking over at Robyn, Cat smiles fondly in the memory of Magnes. “He was a good, weird guy.”
Only then remembering the other question Robyn asked, Cat flatly says, “Oh. Will. The doctor.” She smiles, unknowingly. “Will Sadler.”
A genuine smile crosses Robyn's face, withdrawing her arm from across Cat's shoulders, instead reaching over to take one of her hands. "I wish I could've met him," she murmurs. "I mean, I know I have a Magnes, and- we don't always get along, but he's not so bad." She lets out a sigh, turning to look back over at her. "I would've killed to have someone like that in my life. You're lucky." She can only imagine how different her life would be if she had had a mentor to keep her on even keel, like it sounds like this world's Magnes had done for Cat. "I mean yeah, that's all cheesy as hell, but I bet he delivered it with just the most serious face, a small smile, and a genuine desire to be helpful."
Even still, that could describe her Magnes, as much as she doesn't always want to admit it, to him or to herself.
But Cat continues, and suddenly she finds her hand enveloped in a vice like grip, almost strong and tense enough to hurt. Robyn stares ahead, eyes wide and vacant as she starts shaking her head shallowly, rapidly. Her breathing becomes quick, shallow, shaking as she runs a hand over her mouth, fingers curling around her chin. "No, non, ce n’est pas possible. Je refuse de croire que lui et moi aurions quelque chose en commun." The phrase repeats again before she stops and sucks in a deep breath. "Il est mort. Il ne peut pas me faire de mal ici.."
Her grip tightens again, looking up with a pleading look at Cat that mirrors the one she had been given here. "Please tell me he was a good person here. Please."
Cat tenses for a moment, watching Robyn cautiously. She unwinds her arms from her legs and stretches, trying to let out her anxiety over the reaction Robyn had. “Doctor Sadler?” She scrunches her brows together. “He was… fine? Honestly, I didn’t know him. I think people liked him. He always waved and said hello if we passed by each other. He uh,” she looks down at the ground, lost in thought for a moment. “He had a dog? I think Brennan adopted him after Sadler passed away.”
Cat looks up at Robyn, failing to hide a frown. “Did… Did you know him, uh, back home?”
It takes a moment for Robyn's still shaking hand to release Cat's, instead clenching hers together in an effort to still them. She can only just barely catch on to Cat's sudden sense of unease, turning away from her as she looks vacantly off into the distance. "Yeah, b-but, uh." Her words are as shaky as her hands for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to find some sort of calm again.
"I don't want to trouble you with t-the details," she breathes out quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't… mean to freak out on you, just… yeah. I had history with my world's William Sadler." Was it worth getting into, her investigation? The break in? What Matthew could do? Her theory that he may have actually killed her? "But it's not something anyone needs to worry about anymore."
She settles on no, at least in the moment. She needs that moment to think on the unresolved trauma she didn't realise still lingered.
Robyn only notices Cat’s moved when her hand settles on her shoulder. “Hey,” she says gently, but with enough emphasis to try and anchor Robyn in the moment. “S’alright. You don’t need to get into it.” The touch is as brief as the words, and Cat comes to fold her hands in her lap, legs stretched out in front of her.
“I learned enough from the people who stayed from other worlds to know not to ask certain questions about alternate people. Usually it’s just—you know sad shit, like they’re dead or missing.” Cat tries to play it off with a laugh. “But—if you want to talk about it. Y’know now or… ever.” She nods to the vehicles parked in a line nearby. “We’ve got plenty of excuse to.”
There's a slow, shuddering sigh from Robyn, lowering her head and setting her soup more properly aside. "I don't… like talking about back home. I can't remember if I've said that before." She has. "It's kind of miserable, and I pointedly don't like telling people about themselves, or people they may know, back home. It's equal parts unsettling and saddening, most of the time." She shakes her head again, leaning back on her palms as she looks up. "I won't lie to you Cat, if I thought I'd had a choice, I'd rather stay here."
She looks over at the woman and offers a small smile, before looking down at her lap.
"A while back I ended up investigating the murder of… a co-worker, at the agency I work for back home. It took a long time to get a break, but eventually it led us to a man who had been a victim of some… horrible experimentation by a former Vanguard scientist." She huffs out a breath. "A man named William Sadler. Used to be a nurse, I think it was?" Lips quirk back and forth as she dithers on whether or not to continue. "He didn't take well to our whole… poking around in his business thing. We'd seized his drugs, his blood supply, everything that was keeping him going, and he took it personally."
Fingers drum against her knee, and she closes her eyes. "I was injured and off duty." Motioning to her side, she lets her shoulders droop. "Not too different than what I'm dealing with now, actually. I've spent a lot of time walking with a cane even before I got out here." She pauses again, wrapping her arms around herself. "He killed my partner, and then came for me. I managed to stop him before he killed my son, but…"
She swallows, finding it hard to continue for a moment. Eventually, she finds the words, speaking in a hushed tone. "I think I wasn't so lucky, I've been piecing together."
It’s a lot. Both to hear that Robyn went through it, and for Cat to take in. Rather than say anything, she reaffirms that supportive hand on Robyn’s shoulder. She lets the silence fill the gap, the distant din of conversations, of repair work, of life. Then, with the smallest of smiles, she gives Robyn’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“That’s fucking insane.” Cat says flatly, her smile creeping back up with a mix of nerves and sheer disbelief. “I—don’t think I’d be fit for duty after something like that. You’re tough shit, coming out here, after…” Cat shakes her head, leaving her hand a firm anchor. “I don’t really know what I even could say about any of that, really. Not that matters beyond how fucked up it is, and how I wish it never happened to you. Nobody deserves that. Not you, not your son, not… anyone.”
Cat’s attention diverts to the steps they’re sitting on. “I want to… help, somehow. Wish I had the ‘take it all away’ super-power, instead of, y’know, nothing.” Her smile shifts, and she looks back up to Robyn. “Can I help?” She wonders aloud.
"I didn't think twice about going back to work," Robyn opines with a sigh. "I should have, but…" Trailing off, she lets a small, pensive smile cross her face. "I only really know how to move forward anymore, I guess. Always in motion, even when I don't need to be?" It's something on the edge of self awareness, but instead she shrugs and looks down at the ground ahead of her.
Her hand raises up to settle gently on Cat's for a moment. "You're helping right now," she says quietly. "Just being here, listening. I feel like there's maybe only one other person who'd really listen, much less understand, and she…" Robyn looks up and towards the convoy for a moment, exhaling sharply. "Anyway, I like just having you here, listening."
She looks over at Cat with a softer but more genuine smile. "Something something the power of friendship, or whatever bullshit Magnes and Kendall used to go on about." Her Magnes and Kendall, but maybe there's some overlap there. "No need for a superpower when there's that, I'm told."
Cat can’t help but smile at that. “I’m glad. And…” she laughs to herself. “The power of friendship sounds exactly like something your Magnes would’ve said.” She looks to the convoy, watching the people around it for a moment in silence. “Maybe he was more right than he was wrong, too.”
There’s a wistful look in Cat’s eyes as she considers the road ahead. “Maybe that’s what matters the most, and what will save all our asses in the end.” She looks back to Robyn.
“The friends we made along the way.”