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- 2065 -
Of all the dives in the world, she had to walk into his. And stop him from choking to death on his own vomit, apparently.
"I suppose I should thank you."
"Don't mention it. Please." Olivia found the only empty spot on the counter, leaned against it and folded her arms, carefully avoiding touching anything as if she hadn't just been scooping puke out of his mouth.
For once, all he wanted was a tall, clean glass of water, the one drink he couldn't find in here. He was used to bile, but it tasted awful cut with Med-Gel Guava.
"Should I take you to a hospital?" Olivia asked, with a refreshing lack of sympathy.
"They've had enough of me and I got no money. They'll send me to rehab courtesy of Plastech, then you would have wasted your time."
Before the slow descent that became a rapid fall, he heard the faintest whisper of a rumour the leader of PEIA was alive and active. Seeing her in the flesh, older, still didn't feel right.
"So what now?" He snorted. "You come to recruit me?"
"I came to see if you had any data left in your skull." The brusque, utter dismissal fit into his view of himself just fine. She kept studying him, though, like a bird of prey, until his bravado fizzled away. "Why? Considering a change of industry?"
"Retirement ain't so bad."
She plucked a very familiar empty pill bottle from her pocket and threw it at the table between them. It bounced hard and clattered onto the floor at his feet. "I can tell."
How did she find that in this shithole? She was good.
"I'll only leave the transport beam open for five minutes." Olivia walked to the door and gave him one of those long, thoughtful, birdlike stares. She nodded imperceptibly. "I don't like having my time wasted."
And there she went. Strange lady, just like the rumours said. To think, if she visited a year or so earlier, he would've gotten a promotion, not fired...
He could just pretend this never happened. Clean himself up. Like it was that easy, but a miracle happened tonight, why not another. And then what? K&O and the other corps hadn't just fired him, they washed their hands clean. He knew that with absolute-zero cold certainty in that moment, or else, they would have swarmed his apartment the moment he caught the attention of Olivia fucking Gladstone.
How twisted was that? The most wanted terrorist in the world was the first person in years who hadn't given up on him-
Come on, Decker. She's using you, like all the rest. If it's a movie, the movies you like don't have happy endings.
But he took his hat and coat with him. He could look the part, at least.
- 2074 -
Maria thrummed with nervous energy in the pilot seat next to his, her terror and grief and hope shaking her up like a cocktail. She thrived on those kind of emotions and they drove her forward when all he could do was try to drown them. He admired her, but in that moment, he couldn't jive with her energy. Something besides his vertebrae stuck out of place, screaming for attention.
"You should talk to her," she said, as if she heard it too. "You've known her longest."
As if that meant any goddamn thing. Another man knew Central for much longer, and where the hell was he? Probably made one too many pithy comments about the AI and holed up somewhere to recover from her verbal evisceration. Decker could relate.
He pulled himself to his feet and squeezed Maria's shoulder to steady himself, and to make sure she was still there.
He walked from one end of the jet to the other before he found Central. She sat on the metal bench against the wall of the loading bay. He sulked on that bench a lot the past week when he wanted to scream or punch someone or both. She was different. Something had been sheared off her usual piercing expression. Her mouth was a precisely neutral line.
He sat beside her, ignored the jolt of pain running up his spine and tingling across his scalp, and held the flask out to her.
"Were you saving that for the after-party?" At least she sounded the normal amount of disappointed in him.
"Grabbed it on the way out. Even OMNI had vices."
She took a swig. Her face didn't change. Impressive, considering it went down like raw needles, but she had always been a hardass.
"What's next, boss?"
"I have no damn idea," she snapped and thrust the flask into his side hard enough to hurt.
He nodded as he took it back and her scowl deepened. She didn't need him telling her that was the correct answer.
He was trying to get comfy with the flask and the engine noise and the pain flare-up, when Central rested her head against his upper arm. He somehow, barely, managed not to fall off the bench in shock.
"I'm tired." Terse and unapologetic. No room for negotiation. But she felt thin as paper. Light. Old. Like the pale, flickering screen when the celluloid ran out.
The last week reminded Decker what fear felt like. He still couldn't imagine what she was going through.
"Me too," he replied, softly. "Shame no medbay to sleep it off in."
It took her a while to figure out when he was talking about. "Really, Brian," she murmured, in warm, dawning comprehension. "You remember that? Did you have that in your pocket for six years waiting for the opportunity to throw it back at me?"
"Ffh, no. But yeah. I remember it."
You saved my life, Decker didn't say. At least twice. You'll probably save it once or twice more before you're done.
He put his arm around her and shifted her, gingerly, because this was still Central. She leaned into the crook of his arm with her head on his shoulder. He didn't dare look to see if she was awake or asleep, but it didn't matter.
He slipped the flask into his trenchcoat and let the distant roar of the turbine engines wash over the both of them like grey and white rain. She was a busy woman and he felt like shit. They both deserved a break.