Work Text:
VOICEMAIL #1
Jane.
Jane, pick up! Pick up, pick up, I. I need you, please, Jane.
I know it’s late for you on Namea, but goddamnit!
Just. Be here?
Not here, here, not on the ship- obviously I’m in, very dangerous cold space with… essentially… no effective weapons- yeah, how’s that for irony, I don’t have the powder when I actually do want it, need it, I- it’s- you- I- Fuck. Call me.
VOICEMAIL #2
I need you. I’m sorry, I’m so, so- you were right, fuck of course you were but I…
Well, Jane, I guess you were right after all. I didn’t want to know- I don’t, I guess, ha, I guess that just might be why people take pasithea powder, obviously, that would be why I. Took Pasithea powder…
You said something… you said you didn’t think past me was any less important than present me.
That I didn’t get to decide that, for myself, which didn’t make any sense at the time but now just-
Just.
Just please call me, when you get this.
VOICEMAIL #3
This isn’t working. I keep picking up the comms, I keep, waiting for- you know, how I normally am, even when things get bad, I can still talk a mile per minute, like twisting a key in a car so it clicks and revving the engines, just, going, going, going, but it’s not-
I don’t know why it’s not working.
I want to just go, but its like I’m stuck in the passenger’s side, realizing I’ve been, like. Like I’m actually just stepping off one of those practice sims they put us through at flight training, or not even- like when I was learning to drive in highschool and we got those paper wheels.
Yeah. I’m just gripping a piece of paper in the backseat finally realizing it’s not real and I can’t see the driver, or I keep reaching towards her, but she- I-
I’m reaching for the memory, and of course it’s not there. I get why you asked me about the funeral so much now. Those memories are hazy, they’ve always been, and if I try to go back further… its like- what’s that old earth expression? Yeah. An elephant is standing on my chest. But it’s not just that, it’s standing on my chest and I can feel the overwhelming pressure but when I reach out to touch it- it slips through my fingers.
I can’t feel it. I should be able to feel it, I need to be able to feel- Either Blanc was lying, I want him to be lying, or I- I- or, it’s- it’s true and I can’t feel it, and I can’t live with that.
What’s the consequences here, Jane?
What happens when someone dosed with a memory removing drug gets their memory back?
I got your message.
The breakthrough with the antidote, I’m- I’m glad you’re relieved, you sound good, it’s good work you’re doing. You and Moreau, somehow.
…Explain that to me.
Explain it to me, not over a call, encrypted and bouncing around in space.
Tell me, let me come to Namea.
We can go to the fucking beach, and then after. I want the antidote, please, I- I cant-
I could help you.
Call me.
VOICEMAIL #6
Hi Jane. Hopefully you haven’t actually been listening to these. I think, I think-
Oh. You heard that, right? It’s Captain Dunne, muttering to himself.
He does it all the goddamn time but especially after he- he, uh.
Especially after…
His self-medication. Is one word for it.
We’re too far away, for a trip to Namea, I- I know that. I do.
I know I’m not- not ready, uhm. Maybe I’m too scared to have that back in me, this- I- but I just need to see you. So much has happened and I don’t like knowing that you knew all along- I keep thinking about the safe house. I was talking about him, after, like an idiot. You don’t bring up your ex boyfriend after sex. You definitely don’t bring up your exboyfriend who the other person was in love with and knows you kil-
Fuck.
Fuck!
This isn’t working, why isnt this fucking working, I-
I need you to be here.
Somehow.
Somehow you’re the last person I want to see and the first, I-
It’s always been like that though, hasn’t it?
When we fight, you’re the one I want to call after to tell about it, like a magnetic pull it’s- well it’s fucking annoying if you want the truth I- whyamItellingyouthis- I hate needing you.
It’s awful! Fuck, I like you, like we’re middle schoolers, it’s disgusting!
I hate thinking of you all the time.
Like this, itch I keep scratching or this part of my brain that won’t turn off, or.
I wish you were here.
I wish you were here, I wish you were here, I wish you were here, and who honest to god thinks that?
Thinks you know who I’d love to see?
Not only the best friend of the man I all but murdered but the person who knew my deepest darkest secret for years and we- and we slept together and talked for months and I started dressing for you?
I mean who, in their right mind, sits down and records a message and thinks this is the person I want to emote every detail of my life at.
Not that I’m in my right mind, ha! I mean, who would be, I-
“Sophie?”
Jane?
“Sophie, it’s 4 am.”
Ah.
“Does that explain why I haven't been-
Been responding? Yep, um yeah.