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[viking_seer]

"Anderson here. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks."

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[viking_seer]

She catches the awkward and it makes her chuckle, just a little. She'll give him one last squeeze before she signs and sits back down next to him.

There's a glance at the file folder before she speaks.

"I won't pretend I didn't get a lot out of that folder. I did. It told me about your life. It told me about your military career. About the Project, what was done to you. How you got out, and where you went after that. It told me about the Petersens, and how... that all went. As well as how you died."

She breathes out.

"I'm sorry you've been alone through... so much of that. I truly am."

[hostileterritory]

He makes a yes and no noise. "I had Caleb, once we met."

And then he didn't have Caleb any more, and then loneliness itself largely blinked out of existence, so it wasn't relevant.

"And I don't remember most of how it felt before and after."

[viking_seer]

"I understand," she says quietly. But she will reach for his hand again, for a slightly different reason.

"I know your name. Your real one. I realize that... that your programming might make it difficult to use for the moment. But I'd like to use it here. When it's just me and you. Any objections?"

[hostileterritory]

He stares at her for several long seconds, an odd tingle at the base of his stomach that he can't identify.

"Oh."

Objections? No. No, he doesn't have any objections. He doesn't think he does. He's just not sure what to do with the idea that he'll hear a name regularly he thought he'd never be able to say again. That no one else would ever know again.

"Uh, okay. Sure. I mean, no objections."

[viking_seer]

She's going to give his hand another, hopefully comforting, squeeze.

"Well, then, it's nice to meet you, Henry Valentine. I promise not to make jokes about you being a heartbreaker. Scouts honor."

[hostileterritory]

He doesn't feel any impact to his sternum, but it's quite suddenly hard to breathe. He stares at her, defenses flattened. And yet he doesn't feel a thing.

Thank God for that.

"That's--" The word comes out strangled. He clears his throat, frowns, rubs at with his fingertips. "That was a mainstay for the squad to give me shit."

[viking_seer]

She's watching him.

Good. You should react to that. You should feel that too, but I know you're not ready for that yet.

"I wouldn't give you shit. But I'm notoriously bad about mom jokes." She turns a wry smile on him. "Maybe when you're ready for my material."

[hostileterritory]

He directs a smile toward the floor, forcing himself to breathe through the odd pressure on his lungs. "What's the difference between a mom joke and a dad joke, anyway?"

[viking_seer]

"It's harder than you'd think to explain. Really, it should be... a parent."

Cough.

[hostileterritory]

Wait for it, wait for it--

There it is. The terrible wordplay has clicked. He wrinkles his nose and groans quietly.

[viking_seer]

And that earns him a bright laugh and a big warm smile. Oh. Oh she's pleased with that one.

[hostileterritory]

She has a lovely laugh. It's unbridled in a way many aren't. Truthful instead of polite. Real. Reality is more precious than most people know.

After a moment, he says, "So, uh, questions?"

[viking_seer]

She shakes her head.

"I don't really have questions. I have ideas. I have feelings-"

She looks at him and make sure she has his eyes.

"I need to say something, but mostly I need to know you heard this from me, okay? It's important. And you don't have to respond. You can, but you don't have to. I don't expect it."

She's going to take both of his hands then, curl her fingers lightly around them, and once she's sure-

"What was done to you was terrible and unfair and inhumane. You signed up to serve your country, but your country took that service in a direction it never should have allowed. You were preyed upon at your weakest point, when you should have had people looking out for you and offering help, and what they did to you and the others-" she swallows, "I should say that I want those people prosecuted and imprisoned for what they did, but if I'm honest, I completely understand why you burned that place down and killed everyone there, for... one reason or another."

Those who deserved it are one thing. Those who were put out of their misery... she understands but a part of her wishes that she could save them. Hell, depending on how things go and how long she's here, maybe she will. Or maybe D-Henry will.

"There's a lot more I want to say. But I also know now isn't the time, and I- I need to prove some things to you before it will feel right to say them. What I will say is that I think I know what you need to graduate. And that while I think it will take some time and some work, I know you can do it. And I'll be here for you every step of the way, including the ugly ones, okay?"

[hostileterritory]

The simple answer is 'okay.' She even supplied the word as part of her question, but for reasons unknown, he can't say a goddamned thing when she's finished speaking. He doesn't pull his hands away from hers, doesn't look away from those dark, serious eyes. And yet every time he starts to speak--to say what, he doesn't know--it's like the air gets squished out of his lungs before he can make a sound.

Finally, quietly, clearing his throat first, he says, "They let me. The- the subjects that were left, they let me do it. The ones I could get to. I hope the fire got the others, but I can't be sure."

[viking_seer]

She watches him, sees the false starts, and when he finally does get the words out, she squeezes his hands and nods.

"It did. You're the only one left. The file was specific." A breath out. "They're at peace. You don't have to worry about them. They can't be hurt anymore."

[hostileterritory]

He's tense. He's always tense, on the alert, ready to respond to environmental threats.

But when Saga says that, something fundamental in him unravels and lets him relax, just a little, little bit. Enough for his shoulders to drop an inch with his exhale.

"That's... good to know."

[viking_seer]

She nods.

"If you have any other questions like that..." A breath out. "If it's in the file, I'll tell you. If it's not, I'll see what I can find out for you."

[hostileterritory]

He nods, once, watching her a bit like a dog waiting to be struck when it goes for an offered meal.

Maybe the file didn't actually cover everything. At least not in detail. Didn't mention how he almost killed Caleb's sister, just that he almost did. Didn't mention the waitress or the diner.

This just seems so... strange, wrong, somehow improper. He's none of them, the people who were incidental damage to his escape. He can't reasonably expect sympathy from anyone, and he's comfortable with that.

This, this gentleness is somehow very uncomfortable.

"How, uh, detailed was that file? As to my history?"

[viking_seer]

"Very," she says plainly enough, keeping her hands in his, her eyes on his. She's trying to reassure said nervous dog.

No one's striking him on her watch.

"I know everything that was done to you. And I know everything you've done since you left the facility. I know everyone you hurt and killed. And how you died."

She shakes her head.

"That doesn't change anything I said. We're going to talk about it eventually, but it's not the first thing I wanted to deal with." Beat. "Do you have a question about it?"

[hostileterritory]

He nods again, once, cautious but accepting what she says as the truth. The truth for now if not forever. Good enough.

Another pause, then, "Did it say how many I got at the diner? I made a bet with myself on the way out."

[viking_seer]

This is a test.

If it isn't a test, it's him trying to destroy this. Break it. It's confusing him and making him feel off kilter and he's a Soldier. He wants orders and simple lines.

Empathy is complicated. Sympathy is complicated. His life is complicated and painful and she read through all of it and while it's still processing, she knows that won't change, even if her task is simple.

Not easy, but simple at least.

"You killed seven people with the grenades and one with a gunshot. There were three in the kitchen, two cooks and a server, who were injured but not killed."

She looks to him.

"What was your bet?"

[hostileterritory]

Something in her reaction and response surprises him, enough that his answer is briefly delayed.

"Uh, figured I'd get all the patrons with the grenade, but bet I'd get one of the cooks too. Kitchen must have sturdier walls than I thought."

[viking_seer]

She had to work with a man who killed her daughter. Maybe he did it with a typewriter, but she was no less dead.

She can keep her head together for this.

"It doesn't say. But maybe we can run an experiment with dummies in the Enclosure if you're really curious." Beat. "Any other questions?"

Maybe about the kids?

[hostileterritory]

He stares at her, confused now for new and exciting reasons that also have no quantifiable source. He expected an answer, sure, but not-- not for her to make an offer like that. Not for her to call and raise him somehow, in whatever this suddenly is.

"No, that's all right, I just..." A pause, and he admits, "Could be nice to do target practice though. Relaxing."

Any other questions? Probably a few. He doesn't know how many more answers he can take before some unknown threshold in him gets breached.

"I guess Anna and Luke made it out all right? If they could get through that stupid maze."

The last part is said with a joking awkwardness.

[viking_seer]

She nods, giving his hand a squeeze at that. He might be- she's not sure of the verb: playing or testing or releasing. It's one of them.

"They both made it out. Their deaths aren't on you. Anna will make a full recovery."

Beat.

"But I think you know that."