[It's been two or three days since - everything. Since Arthur tried to trap Edwin, and Jedao found out about it. Maybe one day since Edwin came to Saga about it himself.
Jedao suspected Arthur probably wouldn't say anything about what Jedao did, and even if he didn't, at least deserved not to be hounded about it right away. But after a few days Jedao is pretty sure Saga isn't going to call him out about it, and she seems - like she would. And even though Arthur has forgiven him, and Jedao believes that he has - Jedao knows that wasn't because it didn't matter. Jedao struck a deeper nerve than he meant to - a hazard he should have forseen at this point - and it's certainly not Jedao's place to help with it.
So he calls her. He's not very well going to be a coward about it at Arthur's expense.]
Hello, Agent Anderson?
This is Cho Jedao. We haven't spoken before but I think that we should. I'd like to meet in person, when it's convenient for you.
It's not that she's suspicious by nature, but most people around here seem to tend towards less formal. She's aware of Jedao, knows enough to know his importance to Edwin just from osmosis and reading the network, and she's actually been interested to meet him for a while given everything she's seen.
First things first: friendly and approachable. ]
You've got her.
And I was hoping you'd have some time for me. Would you care to meet right now? I'm not doing anything at the moment.
[ That was quick. Hmm. Another piece of the puzzle. Quick, but still polite. Nothing that would require haste, then, not a pressing situation. But something he wants dealt with.
[ She's used to some very silly local officials. People do some crazy things.
But she comes to the door when he knocks and she'll give him a smile before gesturing for him to come in.
She's dressed casually: a long sweater and tights and socks. Clothing for curling up by the fire and reading, which was what she thought she'd be doing for the moment. But she doesn't look bothered. She'll gesture around.]
Feel free to take a seat where you like: the couch, one of the desks, the chairs by the fire. I'll bring your water over in just a minute.
[ She'd opted for hot cocoa from a packet since she was heating up water. She's fiddling with her cup and putting the mix in as she waits for the water to finish. ]
[Jedao is also a sweater boy. Shapeless, cozy, nonthreatening sweaters that cover most of Jedao One's scars (except for one pale slice up his neck, too high for anything but a turtleneck or scarf to hide, and he doesn't bother), in neutrals and soft earth tones. Today's wearing a russet-red sweater with little pixelated yellow knit foxes in a fancy border around the bottom hem and collar. Hakkai made it for him; it's not exactly armor, but it's comforting.
He usually wears his uniform pants underneath, just because they're handy, waterproof and self-cleaning and with good temperature modulation and strong pockets, and less obtrusively fuck-off military than the Kel uniform top. In ship service mode, they just look like comfortable black slacks.
He takes a seat next to the fire, looking into it while she gets the drinks, a little entranced despite the seriousness of the visit. When she sits he forces himself to drag his eyes away.]
Thank you.
[For the water; no reason not to be polite. He sips before stating his business, which is a Shuos kind of polite, demonstrating trust in her hospitality to not poison him, not that it would work if she did, probably.]
I suspect you've heard by now about - recent events, between Arthur and Edwin?
I'm always interested in more perspectives. [ She can admit that. ]
But I haven't heard as much as I'd like. Edwin wasn't up for talking about it and John keeps his distance from me. [ She's picked up how rare that is so she'll add- ] He doesn't want to put either of us in an awkward position, given his loyalties and my job. But we've never had any difficulties. I take that as a compliment.
[He holds the cup of water like someone used to teacups, like cradling it for warmth is a comforting habit. But his voice is clear and level; he meets her eyes steadily.]
I'm Edwin's father.
I've adopted him, legally, by the customs of - my father's people. And he parent-adopted me back. I love him more than, than I knew was possible. I love John and Arthur too.
I'm happy to share my perspective as much as you'd like. But I came because I don't think Arthur told you, and I need to confess something specific.
When Arthur told me what he tried to do to Edwin, I hit him.
[ Saga is an FBI agent, but she's not undercover. She doesn't do espionage. She does investigation. But she's also a woman of color who's dealt with a lot of small town cops and even some less than professional FBI personnel and that means she knows how to be measured.
She sips her cocoa.]
I see.
[ Not cold. Not a lit fuse just waiting to get to the explosives. She's just listening and watching for the moment. ]
[He smiles sadly for a moment, a little flicker, recognizing the particular strain of self-control, if not at all where it comes from, in her case.]
I'm not sure where useful context ends and meaningless excuses begin, but I'll answer anything you'd like.
[He looks away for the first time, back into the fire, frowning softly as he considers where to start. Then meets her eyes again.]
Edwin's been staying with me. When I told him I'd taken Arthur off my door's auto-access list, he...almost melted, in relief. But then we got focused on other things and I hadn't thought about it. I'd come to talk to him partly because I wanted to commiserate, the two of us worried on the edges, bitching at each other and holding it together. And we were doing that, after I called him a moldy pickle for not listening to Edwin, because I knew about that. So it caught me by surprised, when Arthur told me.
I didn't hit him because I was angry. I was angry, viciously angry. Stunned angry. But I'm built to have the instincts of an assassin. I can stay cold and still and wait and plan and hold a grudge until the work is done, no matter how angry I am.
But I didn't want to be an assassin with him. I wanted to be someone who felt viciously betrayed by a friend, whose child had been hurt by his friend. I didn't even want to hurt him, not the kind of hurt that sticks with you. I could have done that with words, and...it would have been awful. I could have said things that would have twisted him up for years, and I didn't want to. But I wanted to lash out, just once, so that the resentment didn't sit inside me forever, and without that grudge, maybe I could be friends with him again.
And if he felt like someone punished him, maybe he'd hate himself a little less. It was hearing that Edwin hadn't told me what it was that made him scared of Arthur now, because he didn't want to hurt our friendship, that's why he confessed to me. That sort of knife-twisting kindness-to-guilt.
So instead of anything else I could have done, I slapped him. Open-palmed, like the lilies do in the dramas when some cad broke their heart.
I wanted it to be a kind of rebuke that didn't actually matter at all, but I fucked up, because of course it does. I treated him like...my friend, that I was having a fight with, and I didn't even think about how he's also an inmate now, who's been fucked with by authority here before, and almost certainly more elsewhere. Which he hasn't told me anything about, but I have eyes.
He said he's forgiven me, and I believe him. But I did hurt him, in tangled ways I've rather forcibly decommissioned myself out of the chance to help with, so I'm bringing it to you. And if you decide there's any particular kind of punishment or accountability you'd like to lay on me, for his sake and - the sake of telling him he deserves for people to be held accountable, I'll abide by it.
[ Saga is the kind of person who loves a full file, who spends the time to read every letter inscribed on a victim's heart by the killer. Everything is context, even when it's excuses, and she doesn't even move while he talks, let alone makes a peep.
When he's done, she has one viciously uncharitable thought that doesn't show against the liquid dark of her eyes.]
Do you know what Edwin did to John?
[ She has thoughts but they're not coming out until she's gotten every drop of information she can from him. ]
[It's not comfortable, of course, just leaving it - there. But it's most certainly not about his comfort.
He tries to weigh up what is and isn't his to tell, what would be easier for him to tell so neither of them has to recount it again - he leans back with his eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed, someone with a very good memory trying to pull things back word for word as much as he can, to sift through.]
Edwin...approached John already angry. Aggressively. He damaged John's door. John loves someone who...is terrified of Edwin, and blames him for things that he didn't do, that Edwin...fears is still him. Edwin felt...among other things, threatened, and confronted John about it, badly.
Both of them misunderstood each other in ways that hurt badly, that felt like rejection. John said...'I reached out to him. He flinched away. I let him go.'
I think that's the part that hurt the most - the overture being refused.
Edwin, fully panicking and - self-sabotaging, I think. Just trying to prove that he wasn't crazy for feeling threatened, asked John who he would choose, if he had to. Because, I believe he feels, or at least felt then that...that other person's reactions to him may be so intractable that John might have to choose, eventually. Or that Edwin might have to choose to bow out, unless he's willing to hurt this person by his proximity. And John heard it as demanding he choose. John said 'I won't be made to choose by anyone', and Edwin heard, 'you're the one who pushed too hard, so I choose him.'
John said he told Edwin he could 'fuck off if he's going to spit on everything I've done and everything we've built together over this.'
Edwin thought he had already been rejected, and disappeared. John took that as confirmation that he was rejected. They both spent the next -
[Jedao waves a hand. Time. Some time. Fuck, he's exhausted.]
- convinced the other hated them, that they'd never get to speak to their brother again, and to the point of being outright catatonic about it. And they both took it as confirmation of deep-seated fears about how they will doom and destroy every good thing in their lives.
You know. The sort of things you feel when you're running around a couple years old having an intensely traumatic life where you're weirdly shaped like a grown-up and mostly it's fine, but also you've never had this big or this bad a fight before and you can't imagine how it'll ever be fixed, so it's the end of the world and it's your fault.
[It's secretly funny, because, him too! Haha. Secret jokes.]
That's the situation as I understand it, having talked extensively with both of them, barring a few details I think really aren't mine to share.
[ There's a lot of context there, especially given everything that Edwin had said and the things he hadn't said. It's more information than she was expecting but she can parse very quickly; it had what she needed, what she'd expected.
There's just one more piece. ]
And your thoughts on why Arthur did what he did, in context to Edwin?
I said I was sorry. It was the way he - didn't flinch.
I didn't think I'd be sorry, ever, but I was, so I said it. I said I hoped we could both forgive each other soon.
[And that had been part of it too, in the deep-down lightning-fast tangle of reasons that suddenly connected into one decision like the current jumping the gap in an arc welder, where a Shuos must always have at least half a dozen reasons for doing things, half a dozen different angles - if they'd both done something intolerable, then Jedao couldn't stand on his grudge. Couldn't say it had been unforgivable.]
He said he'd forgiven me already, and...I took a minute, to let that matter to me. I'm worried it's for, for at least some of the wrong reasons. But I said I forgave him too. It felt, it was true at the time. I think I'll still be angry at him, sometimes, that I'll - dig it up. But...it won't be the kind of anger I can't stop holding on to.
I said I wanted to be friends again, when things were settled, and he said we'd be okay. Then he went to - be alone, for a bit.
[ She nods, and she's surprised how much the last set of information adds to everything else. She takes a long sip, swallows, and lets the warmth filter down before she speaks. ]
Last one, I promise: [ she keeps her eyes on Jedao's ] why didn't you ask someone else to deal with Arthur, given the obvious conflict of interests?
[ She holds up a hand. ]
I know we haven't met. Didn't have to be me. But I'm wondering.
[He stares at her, utterly bewildered, and then his whole face cracks in one sharp, awful laugh. He strangles it as quickly as it escaped, and hunches forward for a moment, face hidden in his hands. He takes one deep, shaky breath.]
I didn't think we had an obvious conflict of interest.
[He's growling, but it's the growl of an animal in pain.]
I thought we were on the same fucking side. The same -
[He chokes, and oh fuck, he's not going to fucking cry. He's dead silent for a moment, then sits back up, face blank, his hands in his lap.]
I thought we were the two people holding it together in the same family. Going through the same worries.
[He says quietly, calm and level. Meeting her eyes again, but his are duller than before, shadowed instead of clear.]
I'd seen both of them in more pain than I'd ever seen. And I'd listened to both of them. And I'd known from the moment I realized they were fighting at all that neither of them hated each other. That even if Edwin had fucked up more and thought more wrong things, that both of them weren't hearing each other right, and the way to protect them from pain was to help them understand each other, not - protect one from the other.
And I thought Arthur knew that too. Because didn't he love them both? Didn't he talk to them both? Even if he didn't listen to Edwin very well, I didn't think it was because he hadn't tried. I thought he'd just been kind of an ass about it. I half went to reassure him that whatever it was, Edwin was already working himself up to working it out, that he didn't hate Arthur either.
[Jedao looks away, mouth tight. His fingers drum, once in a rill, along the side of his cup, like an audio track for his mind clicking back over his own assumptions and actions, like the shuttle of a loom repeating a pass over the load-bearing warp threads.]
I didn't want anyone to deal with him, or punish him. I wanted to talk to my friend, when we were both having a terrible day supporting people we both loved. And then - then he told me that.
[He hadn't felt betrayed only for Edwin's sake. Ninety, ninety-five percent. Mostly about Edwin. But he'd thought he and Arthur were in it together, caring about and worrying about both of them, because Arthur said so. Said he cared about Edwin too. And Jedao had felt the ship's gravity go wrong all around him, when that wasn't it, at all.]
[ She watches as he cracks, as he almost cries, as he pulls himself together. She wonders what he heard in her question, how he thinks she thinks of him right now. She can admit that she can be a little clinical in a case like this.
That's not who she is at the heart, though. Which is why she'll wait for a moment before gesturing towards the bathroom. ]
If you need to take a minute, take a minute. Or we can come back to this tomorrow. I don't-
[ She sees something. And she does need to tell him. But she doesn't think it needs to be right now. Not at the expense of... this. More pain won't make this whole thing better. Punishment won't make it better either, in her books.
She has something she intends to ask him to do from all this, but it's not something she wants to frame that way.]
[That doesn't matter, he wants to spit, but he knows it's the wrong answer. Out loud, he says -]
A minute.
[He drinks his water. He stares into the fire. Immolation is his inheritance but he's so rarely seen real fire. It's not very popular on spaceships, strangely. He remembers the bonfire, over a year ago, on James's beach -
- no, that's too charged too, even if it's in a good way. He just looks at the fire. The light and the movement. The soft strange sounds it makes, the different shades of it. The hidden flickers of blue, even violet down in the coals. He lets it fill him up, squeeze out everything else. He breathes.
Exactly sixty seconds later -]
To answer your question, no, I didn't. I know I gave half a dozen convoluted reasons, before. That makes it sound like I really thought it over. But it wasn't like that. It was an almost instant decision. I'm a Shuos, or as close to one as makes no difference. Which is - spies and counterspies and analysts and all that.
[Assassins, too.]
It's second nature to always have at least five different reasons for doing anything. Always a strategy, always an angle. But I was also made to be General. Split-second decisions, with all the gears of strategy behind them. I can look back at myself and ask, why the fuck did I do that, and I realize that sounds terribly like rationalizing after the fact, but I promise I also do it with things that work shockingly well. All the point of which is to say, I had those reasons, down in my weird emotional guts, but I didn't think about them, and certainly not enough to think they could be wrong.
The most I thought about, in the moment, was...also not about punishing him. I just needed -
Thank you. Though I'll be honest: I never thought you were telling me anything but the truth.
[ She folds her hands in her lap and considers how she wants to talk about this. How to frame it, and how to make sure she doesn't use the gift he gave her to trample over his feelings just to manage a hat trick with this whole mess. Finally, she looks up. ]
I'd like to lay things out for you, as I understand them. And I want you to tell me if you think my conclusions have any merit.
[ She meets his eyes, if he'll meet hers. ]
I don't think "punishment" or even "accountability" really has any place here. I think the important thing is to do the right thing by the people we both care about. And I don't know how much he's mentioned me, but I do care about Edwin. And obviously about Arthur.
[ Slightly wry. ]
I'm hopeful this won't be the worst first impression.
[He does meet her eyes; he even raises an eyebrow.]
It's not even a first impression. I know from your handling of Collins that you're forthright, inventive, dedicated to the safety and well-being of passengers, willing to make hard calls -
[The lack of the self-defense loophole - somewhat brutal, but pragmatic and fairly-reasoned under the circumstances.]
- thorough, and professional. I assume you're principled as well, because Arthur wouldn't respect you if you weren't, and I don't believe the Admiral be so foolish as to give Arthur a permanent warden he couldn't respect.
I didn't know you were close with Edwin as well, but I'm glad to hear it.
...and I would suggest, sometimes accountability is a necessary part of doing right by people. But I believe I agree with - which is the method, and which is the objective.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Jedao suspected Arthur probably wouldn't say anything about what Jedao did, and even if he didn't, at least deserved not to be hounded about it right away. But after a few days Jedao is pretty sure Saga isn't going to call him out about it, and she seems - like she would. And even though Arthur has forgiven him, and Jedao believes that he has - Jedao knows that wasn't because it didn't matter. Jedao struck a deeper nerve than he meant to - a hazard he should have forseen at this point - and it's certainly not Jedao's place to help with it.
So he calls her. He's not very well going to be a coward about it at Arthur's expense.]
Hello, Agent Anderson?
This is Cho Jedao. We haven't spoken before but I think that we should. I'd like to meet in person, when it's convenient for you.
no subject
It's not that she's suspicious by nature, but most people around here seem to tend towards less formal. She's aware of Jedao, knows enough to know his importance to Edwin just from osmosis and reading the network, and she's actually been interested to meet him for a while given everything she's seen.
First things first: friendly and approachable. ]
You've got her.
And I was hoping you'd have some time for me. Would you care to meet right now? I'm not doing anything at the moment.
no subject
Your cabin?
no subject
Would make sense. ]
I'd be happy to host.
209.
Should I put on the coffee pot?
no subject
Just water for me, please. Or tea, if you have it.
I'll be there soon.
[And he is, knocking on her door a minute later.]
no subject
But she comes to the door when he knocks and she'll give him a smile before gesturing for him to come in.
She's dressed casually: a long sweater and tights and socks. Clothing for curling up by the fire and reading, which was what she thought she'd be doing for the moment. But she doesn't look bothered. She'll gesture around.]
Feel free to take a seat where you like: the couch, one of the desks, the chairs by the fire. I'll bring your water over in just a minute.
[ She'd opted for hot cocoa from a packet since she was heating up water. She's fiddling with her cup and putting the mix in as she waits for the water to finish. ]
What brings you by, Mr. Cho?
no subject
He usually wears his uniform pants underneath, just because they're handy, waterproof and self-cleaning and with good temperature modulation and strong pockets, and less obtrusively fuck-off military than the Kel uniform top. In ship service mode, they just look like comfortable black slacks.
He takes a seat next to the fire, looking into it while she gets the drinks, a little entranced despite the seriousness of the visit. When she sits he forces himself to drag his eyes away.]
Thank you.
[For the water; no reason not to be polite. He sips before stating his business, which is a Shuos kind of polite, demonstrating trust in her hospitality to not poison him, not that it would work if she did, probably.]
I suspect you've heard by now about - recent events, between Arthur and Edwin?
no subject
But I haven't heard as much as I'd like. Edwin wasn't up for talking about it and John keeps his distance from me. [ She's picked up how rare that is so she'll add- ] He doesn't want to put either of us in an awkward position, given his loyalties and my job. But we've never had any difficulties. I take that as a compliment.
[ She wraps her hands around her cup. ]
Where do you come in?
no subject
I'm Edwin's father.
I've adopted him, legally, by the customs of - my father's people. And he parent-adopted me back. I love him more than, than I knew was possible. I love John and Arthur too.
I'm happy to share my perspective as much as you'd like. But I came because I don't think Arthur told you, and I need to confess something specific.
When Arthur told me what he tried to do to Edwin, I hit him.
no subject
She sips her cocoa.]
I see.
[ Not cold. Not a lit fuse just waiting to get to the explosives. She's just listening and watching for the moment. ]
Can you provide a little more context?
no subject
I'm not sure where useful context ends and meaningless excuses begin, but I'll answer anything you'd like.
[He looks away for the first time, back into the fire, frowning softly as he considers where to start. Then meets her eyes again.]
Edwin's been staying with me. When I told him I'd taken Arthur off my door's auto-access list, he...almost melted, in relief. But then we got focused on other things and I hadn't thought about it. I'd come to talk to him partly because I wanted to commiserate, the two of us worried on the edges, bitching at each other and holding it together. And we were doing that, after I called him a moldy pickle for not listening to Edwin, because I knew about that. So it caught me by surprised, when Arthur told me.
I didn't hit him because I was angry. I was angry, viciously angry. Stunned angry. But I'm built to have the instincts of an assassin. I can stay cold and still and wait and plan and hold a grudge until the work is done, no matter how angry I am.
But I didn't want to be an assassin with him. I wanted to be someone who felt viciously betrayed by a friend, whose child had been hurt by his friend. I didn't even want to hurt him, not the kind of hurt that sticks with you. I could have done that with words, and...it would have been awful. I could have said things that would have twisted him up for years, and I didn't want to. But I wanted to lash out, just once, so that the resentment didn't sit inside me forever, and without that grudge, maybe I could be friends with him again.
And if he felt like someone punished him, maybe he'd hate himself a little less. It was hearing that Edwin hadn't told me what it was that made him scared of Arthur now, because he didn't want to hurt our friendship, that's why he confessed to me. That sort of knife-twisting kindness-to-guilt.
So instead of anything else I could have done, I slapped him. Open-palmed, like the lilies do in the dramas when some cad broke their heart.
I wanted it to be a kind of rebuke that didn't actually matter at all, but I fucked up, because of course it does. I treated him like...my friend, that I was having a fight with, and I didn't even think about how he's also an inmate now, who's been fucked with by authority here before, and almost certainly more elsewhere. Which he hasn't told me anything about, but I have eyes.
He said he's forgiven me, and I believe him. But I did hurt him, in tangled ways I've rather forcibly decommissioned myself out of the chance to help with, so I'm bringing it to you. And if you decide there's any particular kind of punishment or accountability you'd like to lay on me, for his sake and - the sake of telling him he deserves for people to be held accountable, I'll abide by it.
no subject
When he's done, she has one viciously uncharitable thought that doesn't show against the liquid dark of her eyes.]
Do you know what Edwin did to John?
[ She has thoughts but they're not coming out until she's gotten every drop of information she can from him. ]
I don't. So I could use the information.
no subject
He tries to weigh up what is and isn't his to tell, what would be easier for him to tell so neither of them has to recount it again - he leans back with his eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed, someone with a very good memory trying to pull things back word for word as much as he can, to sift through.]
Edwin...approached John already angry. Aggressively. He damaged John's door. John loves someone who...is terrified of Edwin, and blames him for things that he didn't do, that Edwin...fears is still him. Edwin felt...among other things, threatened, and confronted John about it, badly.
Both of them misunderstood each other in ways that hurt badly, that felt like rejection. John said...'I reached out to him. He flinched away. I let him go.'
I think that's the part that hurt the most - the overture being refused.
Edwin, fully panicking and - self-sabotaging, I think. Just trying to prove that he wasn't crazy for feeling threatened, asked John who he would choose, if he had to. Because, I believe he feels, or at least felt then that...that other person's reactions to him may be so intractable that John might have to choose, eventually. Or that Edwin might have to choose to bow out, unless he's willing to hurt this person by his proximity. And John heard it as demanding he choose. John said 'I won't be made to choose by anyone', and Edwin heard, 'you're the one who pushed too hard, so I choose him.'
John said he told Edwin he could 'fuck off if he's going to spit on everything I've done and everything we've built together over this.'
Edwin thought he had already been rejected, and disappeared. John took that as confirmation that he was rejected. They both spent the next -
[Jedao waves a hand. Time. Some time. Fuck, he's exhausted.]
- convinced the other hated them, that they'd never get to speak to their brother again, and to the point of being outright catatonic about it. And they both took it as confirmation of deep-seated fears about how they will doom and destroy every good thing in their lives.
You know. The sort of things you feel when you're running around a couple years old having an intensely traumatic life where you're weirdly shaped like a grown-up and mostly it's fine, but also you've never had this big or this bad a fight before and you can't imagine how it'll ever be fixed, so it's the end of the world and it's your fault.
[It's secretly funny, because, him too! Haha. Secret jokes.]
That's the situation as I understand it, having talked extensively with both of them, barring a few details I think really aren't mine to share.
no subject
There's just one more piece. ]
And your thoughts on why Arthur did what he did, in context to Edwin?
no subject
I'm aware we're both protective assholes.
At the time...
[He stops himself. No, that's definitely excuses.]
Nevermind.
no subject
[ She keeps her eyes on him, and she'll take a sip of her drink now. Give herself a moment. ]
Then this: did you say anything after you hit him?
no subject
I didn't think I'd be sorry, ever, but I was, so I said it. I said I hoped we could both forgive each other soon.
[And that had been part of it too, in the deep-down lightning-fast tangle of reasons that suddenly connected into one decision like the current jumping the gap in an arc welder, where a Shuos must always have at least half a dozen reasons for doing things, half a dozen different angles - if they'd both done something intolerable, then Jedao couldn't stand on his grudge. Couldn't say it had been unforgivable.]
He said he'd forgiven me already, and...I took a minute, to let that matter to me. I'm worried it's for, for at least some of the wrong reasons. But I said I forgave him too. It felt, it was true at the time. I think I'll still be angry at him, sometimes, that I'll - dig it up. But...it won't be the kind of anger I can't stop holding on to.
I said I wanted to be friends again, when things were settled, and he said we'd be okay. Then he went to - be alone, for a bit.
no subject
Last one, I promise: [ she keeps her eyes on Jedao's ] why didn't you ask someone else to deal with Arthur, given the obvious conflict of interests?
[ She holds up a hand. ]
I know we haven't met. Didn't have to be me. But I'm wondering.
no subject
What do you mean? You're his warden. Who else would I confess to?
no subject
Not now. I meant before. You said you went to go talk to him.
Then: did you consider that your emotional response could result in something different than what you intended?
no subject
[He stares at her, utterly bewildered, and then his whole face cracks in one sharp, awful laugh. He strangles it as quickly as it escaped, and hunches forward for a moment, face hidden in his hands. He takes one deep, shaky breath.]
I didn't think we had an obvious conflict of interest.
[He's growling, but it's the growl of an animal in pain.]
I thought we were on the same fucking side. The same -
[He chokes, and oh fuck, he's not going to fucking cry. He's dead silent for a moment, then sits back up, face blank, his hands in his lap.]
I thought we were the two people holding it together in the same family. Going through the same worries.
[He says quietly, calm and level. Meeting her eyes again, but his are duller than before, shadowed instead of clear.]
I'd seen both of them in more pain than I'd ever seen. And I'd listened to both of them. And I'd known from the moment I realized they were fighting at all that neither of them hated each other. That even if Edwin had fucked up more and thought more wrong things, that both of them weren't hearing each other right, and the way to protect them from pain was to help them understand each other, not - protect one from the other.
And I thought Arthur knew that too. Because didn't he love them both? Didn't he talk to them both? Even if he didn't listen to Edwin very well, I didn't think it was because he hadn't tried. I thought he'd just been kind of an ass about it. I half went to reassure him that whatever it was, Edwin was already working himself up to working it out, that he didn't hate Arthur either.
[Jedao looks away, mouth tight. His fingers drum, once in a rill, along the side of his cup, like an audio track for his mind clicking back over his own assumptions and actions, like the shuttle of a loom repeating a pass over the load-bearing warp threads.]
I didn't want anyone to deal with him, or punish him. I wanted to talk to my friend, when we were both having a terrible day supporting people we both loved. And then - then he told me that.
[He hadn't felt betrayed only for Edwin's sake. Ninety, ninety-five percent. Mostly about Edwin. But he'd thought he and Arthur were in it together, caring about and worrying about both of them, because Arthur said so. Said he cared about Edwin too. And Jedao had felt the ship's gravity go wrong all around him, when that wasn't it, at all.]
no subject
That's not who she is at the heart, though. Which is why she'll wait for a moment before gesturing towards the bathroom. ]
If you need to take a minute, take a minute. Or we can come back to this tomorrow. I don't-
[ She sees something. And she does need to tell him. But she doesn't think it needs to be right now. Not at the expense of... this. More pain won't make this whole thing better. Punishment won't make it better either, in her books.
She has something she intends to ask him to do from all this, but it's not something she wants to frame that way.]
You're hurting.
no subject
A minute.
[He drinks his water. He stares into the fire. Immolation is his inheritance but he's so rarely seen real fire. It's not very popular on spaceships, strangely. He remembers the bonfire, over a year ago, on James's beach -
- no, that's too charged too, even if it's in a good way. He just looks at the fire. The light and the movement. The soft strange sounds it makes, the different shades of it. The hidden flickers of blue, even violet down in the coals. He lets it fill him up, squeeze out everything else. He breathes.
Exactly sixty seconds later -]
To answer your question, no, I didn't. I know I gave half a dozen convoluted reasons, before. That makes it sound like I really thought it over. But it wasn't like that. It was an almost instant decision. I'm a Shuos, or as close to one as makes no difference. Which is - spies and counterspies and analysts and all that.
[Assassins, too.]
It's second nature to always have at least five different reasons for doing anything. Always a strategy, always an angle. But I was also made to be General. Split-second decisions, with all the gears of strategy behind them. I can look back at myself and ask, why the fuck did I do that, and I realize that sounds terribly like rationalizing after the fact, but I promise I also do it with things that work shockingly well. All the point of which is to say, I had those reasons, down in my weird emotional guts, but I didn't think about them, and certainly not enough to think they could be wrong.
The most I thought about, in the moment, was...also not about punishing him. I just needed -
[No. Don't squirm.]
I wanted to object. More strenuously than anything I could possibly say or do while being - thoughtful, and responsible. And less strenuously than hurting him just as horribly as I could. And in between those two objective parameters, that stupid cliché from the dramas is what my stupid intuition lobbed up at me.
That's the truth. If you have more questions, I can continue. If you want me to come back later, I can do that too.
no subject
Thank you. Though I'll be honest: I never thought you were telling me anything but the truth.
[ She folds her hands in her lap and considers how she wants to talk about this. How to frame it, and how to make sure she doesn't use the gift he gave her to trample over his feelings just to manage a hat trick with this whole mess. Finally, she looks up. ]
I'd like to lay things out for you, as I understand them. And I want you to tell me if you think my conclusions have any merit.
[ She meets his eyes, if he'll meet hers. ]
I don't think "punishment" or even "accountability" really has any place here. I think the important thing is to do the right thing by the people we both care about. And I don't know how much he's mentioned me, but I do care about Edwin. And obviously about Arthur.
[ Slightly wry. ]
I'm hopeful this won't be the worst first impression.
no subject
It's not even a first impression. I know from your handling of Collins that you're forthright, inventive, dedicated to the safety and well-being of passengers, willing to make hard calls -
[The lack of the self-defense loophole - somewhat brutal, but pragmatic and fairly-reasoned under the circumstances.]
- thorough, and professional. I assume you're principled as well, because Arthur wouldn't respect you if you weren't, and I don't believe the Admiral be so foolish as to give Arthur a permanent warden he couldn't respect.
I didn't know you were close with Edwin as well, but I'm glad to hear it.
...and I would suggest, sometimes accountability is a necessary part of doing right by people. But I believe I agree with - which is the method, and which is the objective.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)