Itâs an idle thought, the kind that come into his head sometimes unbidden. Itâs not a plan, not an intention, he doesnât really want to get up and walk away, he doesnât, he doesnât want that. But just the fleeting idea is enough to make pain spike behind his eyes. I donât, he tells himself over and over, I donât want that. Iâd be alone and I wouldnât know what to do and Iâd panic and probably starve to- and no, thatâs too much detail, imagining it is just another twinge. I want to be here, he tries instead, I want to stay here, I want to do as Iâm told, and be told Iâm good, and allowed to sleep, I want to be good, I want to be useful, and there we go, the pain eases, soothed away by safe thoughts. Heâs good at this. He wants the Interrogatorâs hand on his shoulder, he wants her to grade his work like his cousin did when he was a child and thatâs an absurd thought, but it is a safe one.
The pain isnât that bad. Idle thoughts like that just cause a twinge, not even as bad as a muscle cramp. And he knows he can think it away. The pain is a trivial discomfort, really. Itâs the fear that gets to him.
Always before, itâs been nice clear instructions. Stay with your handler, or perhaps alert your handlers to any psychic disturbance. Be quiet, perhaps, if stealth is going to be an issue. Sometimes the implant isnât even active, as far as he can tell. Or itâs set to something so far outside the realm of what heâd consider that he doesnât notice. Often itâs just if separated from your handlers, return to the Inquisition. Nice straightforward objectives that are in his own best interests anyway. He knows how to work with that, and he rarely sets off even the smallest of twinges.
But he doesnât know how to cope with this. Because his instruction now is obey Ysella. And he is terrified. He doesnât know her, he doesnât know if he can trust her - of course he can trust her, sheâs his handler, but... What if she gives him an order he canât follow, just because she doesnât think about it? What if she gives him contradictory orders? He could die just because she slips up. He thinks about it constantly... and that makes his head ache too, because itâs imagining himself disobeying. A vicious circle.
He puts his head down and sobs into his knees. She didnât say donât cry, just stay here. He doesnât want her to come back, because that will mean more instructions, more chances for her to slip up and- no, no, stop thinking about it. Think pleasant thoughts. Good, obedient thoughts. He thinks of home, and the safety of his desk, and his cell. He thinks of how glad he is to have enough work to fill all his waking hours so he doesnât have to think about anything else. He thinks of the Interrogator looking at him with approving eyes, like heâs something valuable, something sheâs glad to own.
He jumps out of his skin when he hears the door. He gets his knees back under himself in a hurry, and watches Ysella with teary eyes. She looks surprised and concerned. âHey,â she says, putting down her bag. âWhatâs wrong? Donât cry.â And panic hits him like a truck. The pain is instantly blinding, because heâs already disobeying. And he doesnât see how he can obey - another hike in intensity - I will, I have to - but the pain and the terror are causing fresh tears and the pain is still building - and she is shouting, raising her voice to make herself heard past his panic what is she saying he has to hear or he canât obey-- â-- orders --â pain pain pain â-- you hear me? Do cry. Six-Eight! Disregard all previous orders! Clean slate, Iâm starting over. You are free to do as you will! Disregard all previous orders!â
And as acute agony fades back into a dull throbbing headache, he realises heâs on the floor, curled up on his side, with his handler kneeling over him. âSix-Eight, can you hear me? Iâm taking back all previous orders! I donât have any instructions for you right now. Six-Eight?â âH-here,â he chokes out. âAre you alright? Has it stopped?â âY-yes sir.â Heâs panting for breath, shaking all over. His head still hurts, but itâs not the sharp implant pain any more. Just a lingering ache. âI, I, Iâm s-s-sorry, I...â âYou donât have to talk,â she tells him carefully. âYou may if you want, but you donât have to.â So he just pants, and sobs, and hugs his arms weakly to his chest.
âIâm so sorry,â she tells him. And that doesnât make sense, why would she apologise to him? âI misspoke. It wonât happen again.â And he desperately wants to believe that. But he isnât sure he can.
