[Zeta's face smooths out all at once in surprise. And then he buries his face in one hand.
And, very stupidly, finds the need to push his emotions aside firmly. The reminder that very little of what's passed between them is mutually meaningful is not something he needs to grapple with right now. He can kick himself later.
...
Still, he swears under his breath in Gallifreyan.
And, of course, then is when someone comes around the corridor's bend. Another man, psychically empty like the people in Fevrain's memories, tall and broad-shouldered and dressed in a CIA field agent's uniform.] Pythia's tits, how long does it take to check a transmat? Are you coming or what, Captain?
[Right. Of course.] Oh, sod off. I'll be there in a nanospan.
[Norton can see on Zeta's face when the shoe drops. And hits. And hurts. But then they're interrupted and he has to wait until the other man is gone before he can say anything.]
Don't be angry with me, sweetheart. I didn't do it just for the biological sample. I really did enjoy it.
That's -- [Zeta thins his lips, closes his eyes briefly, and gives the most minute shake of his head before opening them again.] Not important right now.
[He glances back down the hallway again. Takes that nanospan to re-center himself properly.] What is important is the situation we're in. The one that's requiring me to re-live my most recent death. The one that could potentially be dangerous, because we have no guarantee it won't be anything more than just a memory.
[He isn't the type to run away from his emotions, typically. But it's still culturally embedded, and he has a valid excuse -- both in the form of what he just posed, but he also needs the time to process it.]
Then the question is, should we stop history from playing out as it did before and prevent you from dying, or allow events to run their course but in such a way that Fevrain and I remain safe, knowing that you'll...well...survive your death.
[Norton isn't remotely Gallifreyan, but in his own way he's as good at running away from emotions as any Time Lord. So he doesn't press the matter with Zeta and instead focuses on the practicalities of the moment. How best to survive, how best to escape this part of the trap.]
We can try to stop it. If that fails, if the trap reacts badly like before, we won't be locked out of following the plot, so to speak.
Said plot is... was... a failed training mission. [His eyes flick to Fevrain again, and this time, a hint of amusement warms them.] The trainee was meant to defuse a type of bomb he hadn't encountered before, one that wouldn't have exploded dangerously if he failed, but would be potentially disastrous for his career. But it had been tampered with by terrorists, and instead, it was a real bomb. By the time we realized it, I was able to get him away from it, but the other agent was vaporized and the edge of the blast caught me bad enough it caused the regeneration.
Luckily, it should be easy enough to attempt to divert the ending. The bit with the agent just now, [he flicks his fingers over his shoulder towards that end of t he hall,] did happen. The transmat behaved strangely as we arrived, and I was investigating it.
[Fevrain raises one eyebrow at Zeta's story, rapidly putting together the rough timing of it all and putting two-and-two together.]
Would this trainee happen to have gone on to have a successful career after all and maneuvered his way into upper management, promoted above both of us?
Mmm. He came to me in an utter panic. Convinced he'd be mindwiped and kicked out of the agency for getting his teacher killed. I understand there was an inquest afterwards to investigate what had happened.
[Zeta starts snickering.] Of course he did. And, yes, I believe there was, though I never heard what came of it. It stopped being my problem at that point and, well, I was rather... busy.
Captain! Let's shift already!
[Zeta's eyeroll is legendary.] Poor stupid dead bastard. Alright, fine. Let's go. [And he turns to stalk down the hallway corridor, his agency robes fluttering behind him.]
Will Agent Impatient over there have a problem with two people tagging along on the mission who aren't supposed to be there?
[If it were just a memory, the agent would ignore them as if they weren't there. Because they weren't there when it actually happened. But if it's like travelling into the past, only in Zeta's mind, then he might object to them. And if it's something else entirely...Norton doesn't know what to think of all this.
Maybe he can put the bomb in an indestructible cardboard box.]
The people in Fevrain's memory didn't acknowledge us... You two should be fine. Even if they do react to you, excusing you as a tech I called to work on the transmat and Fevrain as your accompanying agent...
Well. No. That wouldn't quite work. Narvin would know Fevrain should be in training at this point. Fuck it, we'll figure something out if we need to.
[And, speaking of... There he is, waiting with the field agent. Still as young as when Zeta first met him. He can't help the smile quirking up.]
[Narvin looks deeply, profoundly irritated. It's the sort of irritated that means that he's actually extremely nervous and determined not to show it.]
Is it ready yet, sir? Only at this rate I'll regenerate of old age before we get there.
[He glances at Fevrain and Norton and frowns slightly in puzzlement, but doesn't react other than that. They aren't invisible to him, but they're folded into the memory just enough to not fully register.]
[Well, if Narvin isn't going to react strongly to them, especially wound up as he is, then they have nothing to worry about. Good.]
The delay was necessary, I'm afraid. The transmat bay... [There it is. Just as Zeta is about to enact his idea, he begins to feel the pressure building, the one Fevrain had described before. He's right, it's exactly like something is trying to pin him in place -- by the throat, making it difficult for him to speak. He takes a moment to muster his strength and tries to push onward.] ... had an anomaly. I'm certain th... th...
[It's not just getting harder and harder to speak, but harder to breathe. The panic begins to sets in and he staggers back a step, eyes squeezed shut and one hand at his throat.]
[Whereas Narvin is reacting in a proper Narvin manner, the other agent is simply staring, expression impassive. Which wouldn't be surprising for any other Time Lord, but where Zeta knows Narvin very well, he barely knew this other agent. There are no memories to draw off of for how he might react to this.
Zeta hardly notices, though, only barely registering Narvin's reaction. He is struggling to breathe, struggling against the force pinning him down, struggling against the panic clawing up his throat. He can't seem to get loose. He...
... he needs to let go. He needs to stop fighting. That's what worked for Fevrain, that was his idea to begin with, he needs to listen to his own goddamn advice. He has to fight his own instincts -- has to allow himself to be carried by the current, despite everything in him screaming he'll drown if he does. He's already drowning. And as much as he has the urge to reach for Fevrain's hand, since this isn't a physical space, he doesn't know if that'd be safe for him -- if he'd just get dragged down with him.
Zeta closes his eyes to focus, shut everything else out -- and lets go.
It isn't automatic -- as if the force pinning him has to register the change. But then it releases him, and air floods his pulminory tubes.]
Fuck, [is the first word that escapes him, weak but no less vehement for it.]
[Fevrain has the same thought Zeta does--that if he gets too close, he might be drawn in. And so he watches helplessly, gesturing for Norton to stay back as well and gauging how long he should wait before taking the risk anyway.
And then...just as Fevrain was preparing to reach out, Zeta recovers. Fevrain breathes out a sigh of relief and Norton takes a half step forward.]
Not here, darling, although I appreciate your enthusiasm.
[Now that Norton's been flippant first, he can let himself express concern.]
[Zeta allows himself to retreat to them, just for a couple microspans. He takes a couple of steps back towards them, shoulders hunched defensively, and... can't quite allow himself to touch. He knows their audience isn't real, but their presence already makes him feel too exposed and vulnerable after suffering that... attack, or whatever the fuck he wants to call that.
Similarly, his reflexive response is,] Fine. I'm fine. [... but at least he's good at catching himself afterwards when he says it.]
I'll live, [he amends, even as he stands there looking thoroughly miserable, complete with a look on his face that says he wants nothing more than to fully withdraw into a corner and hide in the two of them until he can stop shaking. It's the grumpiest baby eyes ever.]
I... [He clears his throat.] It seems history must play out. [He eyes Narvin and the agent, the latter of which is still watching impassively. He knows that Narvin wouldn't let him brush it off and pretend like nothing happened, even the Narvin of this time, but there's no way for Narvin to press the matter without breaking the script. He doesn't know what to expect.]
[Zeta sighs, a little aggravated, and flaps one hand towards him with an annoyed look to Norton and Fevrain, as if to say, "see?" But Norton is lacking the context, so he supplies it. He would never let something like that lie, paranoid little bastard that he is. [... said with fondness underneath the irritation.
He turns towards the fake Narvin.] Yes, yes, alright. Ready enough. Go on, son, do your job.
[He drags a hand across his mouth and sighs. Glancing to Norton and Fevrain again, he says,] Be sure to stay well back. The explosion was dangerous enough on its own, but I've never done a quiet regeneration in my lives. It... won't be pretty to watch, but you need to stay back. Alright?
[And he had been so alone, so, so alone with this regeneration.
There may have been others physically around him, but emotionally? He was used to Ranser being by his side. He was used to having the entrelacement to lean on. This was the first regeneration he ever handled well and truly on his own. (And... He thinks that had an effect on the shape of this incarnation's personality.)
Regeneration is never easy, and Fevrain knows his history, and Fevrain has had to weather every regeneration alone. He knows that pain. He understands what it had to have been like for him.
Zeta's hearts squeeze, and he can't not step forward to Fevrain. He takes his face in both hands and kisses him deeply, but shortly, and when he breaks it, he stays close to murmur against Fevrain's mouth,] I love you.
[Fevrain can't keep his face expressionless at that. His eyes widen and mouth hangs open. He doesn't know whether this flutter in his hearts is happiness or pure vibrant terror.
He certainly doesn't know what to say in reply. A Gallifreyan's brain is a masterwork of processing power, but Fevrain's is completely frozen up.]
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Excuse me, what?
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[But, since Zeta seems to want more explanation than that.]
I ran a biological sample that I acquired. You two were obviously alien and I wanted to know what I was dealing with.
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[Zeta's face smooths out all at once in surprise. And then he buries his face in one hand.
And, very stupidly, finds the need to push his emotions aside firmly. The reminder that very little of what's passed between them is mutually meaningful is not something he needs to grapple with right now. He can kick himself later.
...
Still, he swears under his breath in Gallifreyan.
And, of course, then is when someone comes around the corridor's bend. Another man, psychically empty like the people in Fevrain's memories, tall and broad-shouldered and dressed in a CIA field agent's uniform.] Pythia's tits, how long does it take to check a transmat? Are you coming or what, Captain?
[Right. Of course.] Oh, sod off. I'll be there in a nanospan.
[The agent rolls his eyes and disappears again.]
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Don't be angry with me, sweetheart. I didn't do it just for the biological sample. I really did enjoy it.
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[He glances back down the hallway again. Takes that nanospan to re-center himself properly.] What is important is the situation we're in. The one that's requiring me to re-live my most recent death. The one that could potentially be dangerous, because we have no guarantee it won't be anything more than just a memory.
[He isn't the type to run away from his emotions, typically. But it's still culturally embedded, and he has a valid excuse -- both in the form of what he just posed, but he also needs the time to process it.]
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[Norton isn't remotely Gallifreyan, but in his own way he's as good at running away from emotions as any Time Lord. So he doesn't press the matter with Zeta and instead focuses on the practicalities of the moment. How best to survive, how best to escape this part of the trap.]
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Said plot is... was... a failed training mission. [His eyes flick to Fevrain again, and this time, a hint of amusement warms them.] The trainee was meant to defuse a type of bomb he hadn't encountered before, one that wouldn't have exploded dangerously if he failed, but would be potentially disastrous for his career. But it had been tampered with by terrorists, and instead, it was a real bomb. By the time we realized it, I was able to get him away from it, but the other agent was vaporized and the edge of the blast caught me bad enough it caused the regeneration.
Luckily, it should be easy enough to attempt to divert the ending. The bit with the agent just now, [he flicks his fingers over his shoulder towards that end of t he hall,] did happen. The transmat behaved strangely as we arrived, and I was investigating it.
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Would this trainee happen to have gone on to have a successful career after all and maneuvered his way into upper management, promoted above both of us?
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Heard about this one, did you?
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Captain! Let's shift already!
[Zeta's eyeroll is legendary.] Poor stupid dead bastard. Alright, fine. Let's go. [And he turns to stalk down the hallway corridor, his agency robes fluttering behind him.]
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[If it were just a memory, the agent would ignore them as if they weren't there. Because they weren't there when it actually happened. But if it's like travelling into the past, only in Zeta's mind, then he might object to them. And if it's something else entirely...Norton doesn't know what to think of all this.
Maybe he can put the bomb in an indestructible cardboard box.]
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Well. No. That wouldn't quite work. Narvin would know Fevrain should be in training at this point. Fuck it, we'll figure something out if we need to.
[And, speaking of... There he is, waiting with the field agent. Still as young as when Zeta first met him. He can't help the smile quirking up.]
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Is it ready yet, sir? Only at this rate I'll regenerate of old age before we get there.
[He glances at Fevrain and Norton and frowns slightly in puzzlement, but doesn't react other than that. They aren't invisible to him, but they're folded into the memory just enough to not fully register.]
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The delay was necessary, I'm afraid. The transmat bay... [There it is. Just as Zeta is about to enact his idea, he begins to feel the pressure building, the one Fevrain had described before. He's right, it's exactly like something is trying to pin him in place -- by the throat, making it difficult for him to speak. He takes a moment to muster his strength and tries to push onward.] ... had an anomaly. I'm certain th... th...
[It's not just getting harder and harder to speak, but harder to breathe. The panic begins to sets in and he staggers back a step, eyes squeezed shut and one hand at his throat.]
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What's wrong? What's happening?
[He glances around in paranoid fear that this is some sort of attack. Poison?]
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Zeta hardly notices, though, only barely registering Narvin's reaction. He is struggling to breathe, struggling against the force pinning him down, struggling against the panic clawing up his throat. He can't seem to get loose. He...
... he needs to let go. He needs to stop fighting. That's what worked for Fevrain, that was his idea to begin with, he needs to listen to his own goddamn advice. He has to fight his own instincts -- has to allow himself to be carried by the current, despite everything in him screaming he'll drown if he does. He's already drowning. And as much as he has the urge to reach for Fevrain's hand, since this isn't a physical space, he doesn't know if that'd be safe for him -- if he'd just get dragged down with him.
Zeta closes his eyes to focus, shut everything else out -- and lets go.
It isn't automatic -- as if the force pinning him has to register the change. But then it releases him, and air floods his pulminory tubes.]
Fuck, [is the first word that escapes him, weak but no less vehement for it.]
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And then...just as Fevrain was preparing to reach out, Zeta recovers. Fevrain breathes out a sigh of relief and Norton takes a half step forward.]
Not here, darling, although I appreciate your enthusiasm.
[Now that Norton's been flippant first, he can let himself express concern.]
Are you all right?
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Similarly, his reflexive response is,] Fine. I'm fine. [... but at least he's good at catching himself afterwards when he says it.]
I'll live, [he amends, even as he stands there looking thoroughly miserable, complete with a look on his face that says he wants nothing more than to fully withdraw into a corner and hide in the two of them until he can stop shaking.
It's the grumpiest baby eyes ever.]I... [He clears his throat.] It seems history must play out. [He eyes Narvin and the agent, the latter of which is still watching impassively. He knows that Narvin wouldn't let him brush it off and pretend like nothing happened, even the Narvin of this time, but there's no way for Narvin to press the matter without breaking the script. He doesn't know what to expect.]
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Are you quite finished then? Are we ready?
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He turns towards the fake Narvin.] Yes, yes, alright. Ready enough. Go on, son, do your job.
[He drags a hand across his mouth and sighs. Glancing to Norton and Fevrain again, he says,] Be sure to stay well back. The explosion was dangerous enough on its own, but I've never done a quiet regeneration in my lives. It... won't be pretty to watch, but you need to stay back. Alright?
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Fevrain meets Zeta's eyes, face carefully expressionless as he listens.]
We will. We'll be safe. [No matter how tempted he might be to toss Norton into the explosion at the last second, he can't do that to Zeta.]
And...I'll be here to catch you after it's over. You won't be alone.
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There may have been others physically around him, but emotionally? He was used to Ranser being by his side. He was used to having the entrelacement to lean on. This was the first regeneration he ever handled well and truly on his own. (And... He thinks that had an effect on the shape of this incarnation's personality.)
Regeneration is never easy, and Fevrain knows his history, and Fevrain has had to weather every regeneration alone. He knows that pain. He understands what it had to have been like for him.
Zeta's hearts squeeze, and he can't not step forward to Fevrain. He takes his face in both hands and kisses him deeply, but shortly, and when he breaks it, he stays close to murmur against Fevrain's mouth,] I love you.
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He certainly doesn't know what to say in reply. A Gallifreyan's brain is a masterwork of processing power, but Fevrain's is completely frozen up.]
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