[reverse darkest timeline AU: cellthread #3]

[stilljustandrew]

It's been about two days.

Nobody's come for him.



Andrew's lying down, staring at the far wall.

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[gothamsheiress]

"That sounds to me like a forced choice," she murmurs, thoughtful. "If you refused to let her hurt you, he would still get what he wanted -- she would be manageable and you would be hurt with nothing to show for it yourself. And if you agreed, she would be manageable and you would be hurt, but you would have proved your obedience. And obeying him was your best chance at protecting yourself.

"And when you did obey, he eased the very pain he put you through. Again."

[stilljustandrew]

"And He sent someone, someone else, to ... help me, that night. After." Low and effortful; he still isn't looking up. "As a reward. To look after me."

[gothamsheiress]

She recalls, with a faint jolt, the last time he mentioned this.

"He didn't come himself?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew shakes his head. "He sent someone," he repeats.



"I, I never learned his name."

[gothamsheiress]

"Was he another servant like you?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah." It's a whisper.

"I mean, I wasn't yet. I wasn't sworn to Him yet. But he was."

[gothamsheiress]

Her gaze drifts sideways for a moment, distracted.

"Do you think he'd -- been brought there against his will, too?"

[stilljustandrew]

He looks up slowly, staring at her. Stricken.

"I don't know. I never --

"Oh god, I never thought --"

[gothamsheiress]

Her focus snaps back to him; she looks mildly alarmed. It had been an idle thought, not a tactic. And useful though it may be to have Andrew recognize the plight of another, she badly wants to forestall him from diving into guilt or self-recrimination.

"That isn't your fault," she hastens to tell him. "You were in pain and trying to keep yourself alive. His circumstances are Lucifer's fault, not yours."

[stilljustandrew]

"No, but --" He's shaking his head again, in dismay strong enough to approach horror. "He was, he was happy. To be serving Lucifer. He s-said something about -- about how lucky I was, that He chose me, that He needed me for something so important -- and that He healed me with his own hands, after ... "

He presses a hand to his mouth.

"I never thought. I never ..."

[gothamsheiress]

". . . Never thought what?"

[stilljustandrew]

It takes him a moment to speak; getting himself under control, or putting the terrible realization into words.

"I thought he'd always served Lucifer. And he was happy with it. Proud of it. He was trusted, and, and I thought -- I thought maybe someday I could be like him."

He rubs his mouth again, his hand trembling.

"I never thought maybe he used to be like me."

[gothamsheiress]

"That idea upsets you," she points out, quietly. "Why?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Because ..."

His forehead furrows, with pain or concentration or both.

"Because if ..."

And a long silence, as he struggles with it.

[gothamsheiress]

She waits, hardly breathing.

[stilljustandrew]

"Because if he didn't want to, to serve Lucifer, and they made him want to ... and then I didn't want to, and they made me ... and, and then we brought in someone like Matt, and he didn't want --"

His voice cracks.

"Is any of it real?"

[gothamsheiress]

There doesn't seem to be a good answer to that. She shakes her head, regretful -- not to say no, but I don't know.

[stilljustandrew]

He covers his face with both hands, and what emerges is only the sound of harsh breathing; not sobs, but hitching, shaking gasps, like someone coming out of choking smoke.



"I --

"I don't know what to do."

[gothamsheiress]

"Don't run away from this," she says, sitting forward a little. "I know it's frightening, but don't hide from it. You're safe here. You don't have to know what to do yet."

[stilljustandrew]

He gulps, and tries to obey; his hands come down, uncovering his eyes, but stay curled over his mouth and chin as though trying to grasp and steady his breath by main force.

Very gradually, his breathing slows.

He doesn't look up.

[gothamsheiress]

"You're safe," she repeats. "I promise. You can face this."

[stilljustandrew]

Very muffled, through his hands:

"Maybe it isn't true."

[gothamsheiress]

"What isn't true?"

[stilljustandrew]

"That -- that he was like me once. That everybody was like me, all the way back, and -- and none of it's real."

The way he says it, it seems clear: he wants very much to believe it isn't true, and can't.

[gothamsheiress]

"I don't think that's likely. I'm sorry."