[reverse darkest timeline AU: cellthread]

[stilljustandrew]

[After this: 1, 2, 3]

It's late, at least by his body-clock. There's nothing else he can do, so he may as well take a nap.

The cot feels unreasonably exposed; he spends a few minutes wrangling the thin mattress onto the floor, at which point the framework obligingly vanishes to give him a convenient place against the wall to lay it down. He takes off his shoes and socks and his button-down shirt, and lies down in his jeans and undershirt, and stares at the wall.

A week. Maybe in a week he can convince them that he isn't a danger to anyone and they'll let him go.

Comments

[semicharmed]

Ava Wilson, member of Security, sent Matt and Epimetheus a note:

Hey guys,

Caught the dude. His name's Andrew Wells. He's in the cells for a week for attempted kidnapping and fighting, but I'm trying to stretch that out until he's safe to be around other people again. Let me know if you have questions.

-Ava W.

Matt read the note several times. Thought about trying to find Epimetheus.

But in the end, he doesn't write anybody any notes at all before he can be found padding down the row of cells, soft-soled sneakers damping the noise.

[stilljustandrew]

If there's one thing he's become very good at over the last ... however long it's been, it's waiting: doing nothing until he's needed. This shouldn't be any harder.

He wishes he could sleep.

[semicharmed]

Matt sticks his hands in his pockets. He feels a bit more jittery than he expected; at least if his fingers shake, nobody'll be able to see.

"Hey," he calls. "Anybody home?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew sits up sharply, his heart suddenly knocking at his ribs.




"Who's there?"

[semicharmed]

"Um. Matt Jamison?"

[stilljustandrew]

"What --"

The sentence was supposed to end do you want?, but his throat isn't cooperating.

[semicharmed]

Matt shuffles into view: faded band t-shirt, jeans, his protective bracelet peeking out above one pocket.

"I heard you were in here."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's sitting up on the mattress now, knees drawn up, arms loosely linked around them. He glances up at Matt, and then his gaze flicks away.

The cuffs on his wrists are clearly visible: brown leather, functional and unadorned. In a nervous gesture that looks habitual, the fingers of one hand are tugging at the steel ring set in the cuff on the opposite wrist.

[semicharmed]

Steel ring.

For no immediately obvious reason, he thinks, Someone has caught you.

Matt watches Andrew for a moment, then pads a bit closer--keeping a respectful distance from the glass, his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders as loose as he can.



"I was in here once myself," he says, glancing around. "It was surprisingly pleasant, for jail."

[hadyougoing]

Ava's had a long, sucky day of trying to convince people that this time, longer sentencing is totally warranted. She thinks the only reason she won is because the situation pertains to her world, which is like the opposite of why you should win these things.

For the moment, she's skulking in a corner booth with tea. Chamomile-lemon.

She hopes the soothing effects kick in soon.

[stilljustandrew]

"Hello, Ava Wilson," comes a small voice from the vicinity of her ankles.

[hadyougoing]

Ava glances down.

A faint smile.

"Hey, Baby. How's it going?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I am in considerable emotional distress," says Baby, in about the same tone in which most people would say fine.

[hadyougoing]

She sighs.

"Yeah. You wanna come up and hang out for awhile?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Yes, please."

The mobile clambers up onto the seat of the booth, and settles against Ava's side like an exhausted child.

[hadyougoing]

Ava pats the top of Baby's carapace lightly.

And, with her free hand, grabs her mug to sip some tea.

"We get to keep Andrew as long as we need to," she says. "Until he gets better."

[stilljustandrew]

"That is good."

A long beat.

"He has not asked for food yet. I wish to provide a meal but I do not know what he will eat."

[nita_callahan]

A day or so later, a new face comes down the hallway.

Working Security while also being a working wizard back home is always a little bit of a juggling act; every time Nita comes back to the bar from a few days away she checks the logs in the office to see what she's missed. It's not unusual to see a friend's name in a report. Which . . . probably says something about the kind of people Nita befriends around here, but that's neither here nor there.

That said, Andrew's name was -- kind of a surprise. As was the rest of the arrest report.

She pauses a little outside conversational distance. "Andrew?"

[stilljustandrew]

He's sitting on the mattress with his back resting against the wall, facing away from the side she's approaching. At the sound of her voice he twists around to look, slightly startled.

Recognition comes a beat later, and the startlement scales up into something like shock.


"...Nita?"

[nita_callahan]

. . . Jeez, Nita has no idea how to handle this.

"Hey." She gives him a weak little wave.

[stilljustandrew]

He swallows visibly. "H-hey."

(Fairest and Fallen, whispers something at the back of his mind, and he shoves it away before it can finish the phrase.)

[nita_callahan]

"So, um, this is a new thing for you," she says, gesturing at the cell. "How're you doing?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I'm, uh." His hands twist together in his lap. "I'm not so good."

He doesn't look great: eyes hollow and red-rimmed, as though he's been crying or not sleeping enough or both.

[nita_callahan]

"Do you feel like talking about it?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Um. Maybe. I, I dunno if ..."

He rubs the heel of one hand over his eyes.

"Do you want to come in, or ...?"