eyemind | event } ya gotta be a dolphin

Alex Reagan is one of the best in her field.

That had been one of the reasons he'd had his assistant call her back in the end. Extensive research. Listening to her interview with Michelle Obama. Anyone with a white house press pass was surely on par with consulting with James Wan on The Conjuring (even if it was against Elaine's objections).

Still she looks...shaken. It leaves him on shaky ground because since Coralee she's the first person who's felt a bit more steady and somehow tenacious and -

His lips press together, "...Tell me everything." But his voice is a bit more firm then he might realize as he gestures, "...And perhaps put something...on."

Alex colors when she looks down at her bathing suit, and she just swallows a bit because she has hugged the most touch-me-not version of Richard Strand, and not only had she done that, but she'd also done it practically wearing nothing at all. God, this somehow feels like all of those nightmares that she'd had as a kid when she'd shown up to school naked or something. But Alex doesn't say anything until they're back aboard the ship and they're in cabin 501.

It only takes a second for Alex to change into something that's closer to the uniform that she'd wear back at home than the bikini she was wearing, even if it's not quite perfect. When one is picking up clothing on an alien planet, it's hard to find exactly what you want, but the trousers and sleeveless button down at least make her feel a bit better even if they're tighter than what she'd have wanted them to be.

Before Alex herself sits down, she grabs the bottle of bourbon that she'd picked up a few planets ago that she'd barely touched, and then she adds a pair of glasses. Dr. Strand is going to need a drink, and Alex definitely could use one too. With that busy work completed, she just sits in the chair across from him and folds the recorder over and over in her hands before she just admits softly: "I'm not really sure where to begin, honestly."

Richard stares at her cabin and decides this is a good thing, "I'm next door." He points, "This is good." He nods, "I'm right next door. If you need anything or we need to watch out for each other we can do that."

When they enter he averts his eyes politely trying not to think of her presence when she grabs the Burbon.

"...Start at the beginning." He folds his hands, "...You haven't steered me wrong yet."

"The beginning." Alex echoes the words with no amount of dismay, because she doesn't know if the beginning is the most important thing here. The most important thing, at least in terms of him and the things that he would actually believe... Well, then again that was the beginning of this for him, wasn't it? At least in some ways. Yes, there was what happened with Cheryl when they were kids, and there was Bobby Maimes and everything that Howard had done, but the place where the Institute had started came from the way that he hadn't been able to find his missing wife.

"Richard," her voice is soft, and compassionate when Alex says his name with a deliberate note, and she can't help but to feel like this is going to destroy him, and not for the first time. God, she'd just watched him fall apart and now she was going to need to do it again. Reaching over to rest her hand on top of his, Alex looks him in the eye directly. "I'm so sorry but Coralee is alive. And it's not heresy or a mistake or anything like that. I was with you when she showed up to save us from Thomas Warren. I met her. She's alive."

"It's disgusting that you'd think of using me like this." Richard Strand slammed the white toyota door hard, trying to ignore the sense of betrayal and pain in his chest, "It's absolutely vile and after everything you've pulled-"

"Joanne Davidson." her arms were crossed, "Richard I want this because I love you but if you want to compare broken things in our lives I know you and Joanne had coffee-"

"It's not the same!-"

He had screamed it before stalking to the gas station and slamming money on the counter, taking a minute to stick his head in the freezer. Joanne was a colleague and Coralee was the woman who had held him and stroked his hair when he was sick and-

Alex is speaking but his chest is constricting and then. Rage. dig into that same rage he found when he found their car abandoned.

"...I thought you were a professional." His voice is ice cold and dangerous, "I expected that you'd researched me but to do this? To tell lies like this?"

"...I thought you were a professional." it's hard to keep the disgust out of his voice but, "But this is just cruel."

“What?!” Alex looks like she’s been kicked in the stomach. She feels like it too. “You think I would do this just be cruel to you after I was so happy to see you? Jesus Christ, Richard. I know that you always think the worst of me; but this?! God!” Alex just shakes her head with a hitch of breath before she goes to the file on her recorder. It’s not the last one, but it’s close to the end of the ones here on the physical recorder itself.

When Alex hits play, the sound spills out around them, starting with her own voice and then his responding.

“What do you think about Thomas Warren? Any idea what to expect?”

“No idea.”

“Are those...? Do you think that’s a security team?”

“That’s an awful lot of security.”

“They can’t be for us can they?”

“They are coming this way.”

“They have guns. Do you think they’re police?”

“They’re NOT police.”

There’s a sound of tires squealing as a car slams to a stop. A door opens and slams shut before an all too familiar voice: Coralee Strand, speaks. “Get into the van.”

Alex’s response is immediate and sharp. “I don’t think so.”

Coralee isn’t deterred. “Get into the van if you want to live.”

Perhaps almost as surprising is what Strand himself says, “get into the van, Alex.”

They get in and the door closes before the car speeds off. There is more than a hint of fear in Alex’s voice after everything. “What’s going on?!”

Strand speaks again, resignation in his voice. “Alex, I’d like you to meet Coralee.”

Coralee’s response is seemingly normal as if this is something that she does every day. “Hello Alex.”

Richard Strand stares at her and breaks.

He stares at her. It's proof. It's irrefutable proof of Alex's words and he wants to take it back but also reach across the table and strangle her for it. Acting all offended. What? Was she after him-physically? Mentally?

The name Warren rings. His hands flex. He's been kidnapped by a sentient ship, Alex is here, apparently they have been kidnapped by the same woman who left him abandoned on the side of the road running off into the woods driven half mad with grief-

why would she hurt me. She wouldn't.

"Play it again."

That's her voice.

"Play it again. Can this ship do voice analysis? Confirm it's a human can-"

His hands flex.

"Please."

His words are full of emotion and hurt.

“There’s.” Alex stops and she starts again, because god she can see him hurting and that hurts her more than she knows what to do with in this moment.

“There’s more,” Alex tries again and she manages to get it actually out this time. “She and the people who she was with either kidnapped us or saved us. They took both of us to an empty Airbnb. The man and the woman who were with Coralee waited on the porch and kept watch. You went in with her alone to talk to her. It was the first time you’d seen her, but it wasn’t the first time you’d spoken with her, Richard. You had been working with her for months without telling me that it was her you were working with.”

Which had hurt and Alex wasn’t going to lie about it. But she doesn’t mention it—she probably doesn’t need to do it.

“We drove around a lot that night. I don’t think you wanted to be alone. When you were finally ready, you drove us back to your father’s house in Seattle. You’re living there now. You said that everything with Coralee’s disappearance was based out of the Pacific Northwest and that’s why you moved in. You and Ruby have been redoing it.”

Alex just picks up the recorder again and she she queues up the next file but she doesn’t play it as she puts the recorder in front of him. “You told me what she’d said to you that night over a bottle of bourbon there. When you’re ready you should play it.” Alex’s voice gets softer. “I should warn you it’s a lot, Richard. It’s a lot and it’s pretty terrible.”

Edited 2021-01-03 23:08 (UTC)

Their wedding. Their poetry vows. Charlie following him with a toddler giggle.

Christmases. Birthdays. Back when he was some kind of mild mannered professor. Family dinners long before the damned black tapes, burying his ridiculous family history in a family of his own.

God he had been proud. Proud of himself for healing. But Coralee was alive. She had-she was alive and the time he'd spent - the trauma that happened...

"Give me the tape."

He moves to take the recorder his hands trembling.

"Give me the tape I'm not taking your recorder give me the tape." His voice is still ice cold and hard, "After everything I did."

"I can't give you the tape, Richard. There isn't tape. It's digital. I would if I could if it was possible, but it's not. You can borrow my recorder if you want to. I mean." Alex just sighs softly, and she just curls herself inwards a bit on herself and draws her knees up to her chest.

"There's other stuff not related to Coralee on there too, that's important so please just don't break it." Because there's the axis mundi and how Alex knows about Bobby Maimes and everything else that's been involved of hundreds of hours of work and loss and the fact that Alex hasn't sleep in fucking two years because of all of this.

She curls in and he feels bad. It's a fleeting feeling but it's a sense of pain he never expected.

"Digital. Yes of course."

And he presses play. It's bothering her, so it's perhaps crueler than he wants to admit to himself. He wants to watch her squirm. Then the two of them talk and he relates the story between the two of them. What Coralee said about watching. He's visibly shaking and he has to pull his glasses off at one point to wipe at his face becasue.

But when he speaks his voice is calm.

"I'm not going to break your recorder. And I'm glad you told me." He can't abide secrets. Even in his hypocrisy he cannot abide secrets.

"But I have no idea what the fuck this means."

Edited 2021-01-04 00:42 (UTC)

Alex just reaches out and puts her hand on Richard's again, fully reminded of that night, and she lets out a little sigh for a moment. "It's a lot. I know it's a lot. It's a lot and it's like something out of a supernatural spy movie or something. If that even is a thing that is." It's a standard Alex Reagan bad joke as a stab at normality.

"There's a lot that had happened before then, but I'd thought it was the most important part for you to know. But the other stuff is background that's important too. Um. So you picked tapes from your collection to show me. I know that there's over a hundred different tapes just to put that out of the way. So you showed me the Torres tapes, then the Unsound. After that there was the festival of the Upside Down Face and the murder that started it in Chattsworth. Then it was the Exorcism of Jessica Wheldon who called into the show a few months ago and I interviewed her then. Then there was Simon. Simon Reese is a kid who had been possessed and killed his parents to prevent them from opening the door for any other kids. He can bilocate and like comes up a lot, actually. He's sort of been stalking me."

Pushing that aside.

"Then Sebastian Torres was kidnapped by a member of the Order of the Cenophus, Brother Edward. Brother Edward probably opened a door for him too. We don't know because the Torres Family won't speak to us. But Simon killed Brother Edward and the rest of the Brothers of the Mount a few months ago. You showed me the experiment with the Demon Board that your father had, Richard. And I know. God, I know this so much and we're not even halfway through the season but I know about Bobby Maimes too. I know why you really started your Institute." Alex gestures to the recorder and the file that he'd just played.

"Watchers are connected to The Order of the Cenophus and that's what they call the whole group of people who interact with this weird sort of Underworld. The adults who open the Doors for the kids, and also what Coralee did to you, and I'm so sorry that you needed to find out this way."

The weird part about this is that it fits in a strange way. He's always suspected that he was being stalked - that after Coralee someone was watching him. Was it her? His heart didn't dare to hope. Her hand on his makes him pull away slowly, staring at nothing before looking at her. Stuck on a ship with someone who knew all these things about him...

"...Bobby Maimes was a fluke. It was logic. I'm not psychic" But he was on an alien space ship with an Alex Reagan who knew all these things about his future.

Staring at the Burbon he swallows, "And as for my-" He grimaces, "My father. His experiments and his occult work doesn't matter because he's dead and-"

Oh god.

The way he copes with this is to run. The way he copes with pain is to run but he can't. He's in a box with Alex Reagan and the pain that wells in him makes him feel sick but he -

Shoves it down.

He can bury it. Make it go away. Make it make sense.

"...It is what it is however. I can go over your recordings and piece it together." Yes. Apply logic, Apply reason, Apply reality, "...Does this ship have a library? I could just - perhaps the computer might have some ideas."

All of the rage and pain simmers beneath the surface but he looks professor-like. He's locked it down. Staring down at the recorder with a grimace he has to parcel out his feelings.

Either he abandons her here - this person who he apparently knows so well by this time - or he uses her to continue to help him achieve what he needs.

So he moves to pour alcohol into his glass.

"I would still like your help since you know more than I do."

One thing that Alex has discovered, particularly over the last few weeks that they worked together is that she knows Richard Strand far better now than she used to, and she’s even better at reading it in him. He’s angry and he’s hurting and it’s all there writ large in the way that he’s holding himself.

He can’t fool her anymore.

“You should know that Thomas Warren said that your father was working with him in the last years of his life. Warren believes that your father found the Horn of Tiamat and that his death wasn’t an accident. Thomas Warren claims that your father was murdered. I don’t want you to find that on your own.”

Alex does in fact mean that. She remembers how Richard had reacted at that point when it came to the way Warren needled him. She knows that he hates his father and how abusive the man was and that’s something else that she doesn’t want to spring on him.

“I know about the Cheryl tape and I spoke to your sister. I know that Howard Strand was a bastard. She told me.”

Christ.

"Father it's important! Father please!"

"What did I say about lying Richard? What did I say about these tall tales of creatures?"

"Father!"

"What did I say about it?"

"Is there anything you don't know?" His voice is nasty, "I lost my virginity to Eloise Bennett in my junior year of high school. Charlie's mother's name is Amber. My social security number is 613-"

He has to think. It is better to know. It is better to engage with her on equal footing. He doesn't like this. The Alex Reagan he barely knows, he thinks of fondly.

This woman has cut him to the quick. He is bare and exposed and dropping his head to the table and taking a long swig of alcohol he inhales.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's not your fault, I apologize. I don't know what this ship is but I really would rather know than not know. If that makes sense."

He inhales, "I'm sorry."

And he drinks more.

Alex winces, because she can't help it. She rises to her feet and starts to pace a bit, because she's got too much energy built up to not pace. Her stomach twists and she needs to stop herself in order to do some more of the square breathing that Dr. Bernier had taught her. Strand is still angry and he has every right to be. She would be furious if their situations were reversed. Well, not that their situations would be reversed--Alex knows all to well how much Strand plays things close to the vest. Hell, it would probably be easier if she didn't know half the stuff that she did now.

She definitely would sleep better. Maybe the world wouldn't have been in danger too.

"Rich--" Alex starts and then stops before she shakes her head and self corrects. "Dr. Strand, I am sorry. I thought you would have wanted to know. I would have, but then again I always need to know. I don't have full episodes of the show that I could just give you to listen to and I'm sorry for that too. But you can borrow my recorder for as long as you need."

Moving to sit next to him, Alex doesn't reach out and touch him again, but she does pour herself some of the bourbon if only so that she's doing something else with her hands. "I'm sorry you're here too, and I'm sorry that I'm from so much later. I really am."

He is not his father.

He is not Howard who - relied on his mother like a crutch quietly taking his side in everything this pillar of strength for a man who apparently didn't deserve any of it. Apparently a man who was destroying the world and hellbent on what? Power?

His shoulders are as tense as a cat but that is a lifeline. He is not his father and in a grim sort of way her words confirm that the abusive bastard who beat him as he begged him to save the family from demons...

One breath.

Then two.

"Stop."

His voice is firm, cold.

"We are apparently on a space ship. This is not a dream. You have nothing to apologize for do you understand?"

"None of my mysterious ...apparently byronic history is your fault Alex Reagan. And in some ways...I suppose it is a relief. To have you...know. Even though I barely know you at all."

His mouth twists in an unintentionally cruel smirk but it dissolves.

"All we have apparently is each other on this ship and I would rather there be no secrets between us since we have no idea where it's going or what it will do."

“Navi is....let’s just say complicated. We’ve had some interesting times since we first arrived on board honestly. There’s some really interesting people here.” Which is to say she’s not sure how to tell him about partners and how that’s the system Navi runs off and what it’s like to have someone else in your head. Her fingers brush against the blue of the glyph on her wrist.

“We’re not alone here though. Not really. And I know you’re going to hate this but Navi runs on partnerships. Psychic partnerships. Like connected with your thoughts and having your memories being able to be seen and stuff. My partner is Jon. He kind of reminds me of you honestly. In some ways. But it’s his second time here. The first time both he and his boyfriend were. His boyfriend was my partner then.”

Alex feels a little like she’s babbling and she’s not sure why (even if she is sure why she tells him about Martin. Richard may not remember his reaction to Tannis Braun but Alex does and she’s not interested in having a repeat of that with Jon.)

“But Dr. Strand, I’m an open book. Whatever you want to know, you can just ask me.”

Psychic partners. So- what?

"You and this-" No. That's not appropriate. He holds up a hand and swigs down more burbon.

"I suppose given the circumstances you should call me Richard. I'd prefer it actually. Since we're stuck in this...together you and this Jon."

Fine. He would just get the both of them out and get back to Coralee and try to forget her body pressed against his because...

Jesus had it been that long?

"Does this mean that I'm paired with someone else on this boat?"

"Alright then, Richard." Alex begins, and she can tell that he's jealous, especially considering the way he said 'Jon' sounds exactly the same as when he said 'Braun.' Well, she guesses it's at least good that one thing doesn't change between them. "But it's not like that with Jon. He's not interested in me in that way at all. He's just my friend, really." Alex doesn't bring up Tannis because she doesn't want him to get angrier again and have everything go sideways when things are already so up in the air.

"You probably are paired with someone, but I don't know who." Alex reaches out and takes his hand, turning it until she can see his glyph. It's blinking like a bluetooth, and Alex just makes a little nod. "When it's blinking like this, it's a sign that you're probably going to need to find your partner. Then it'll flash and go solid like mine is."

Letting go of his hand, Alex just picks up her drink and takes a sip of it before she asks softly. "So, Richard Strand, what do you want to know about me?"

What do you want to know about me.

The burbon isn't hitting quite yet but he figures his vindictive desire to cause some sort of pain could be passed off under alcoholism so-

"Something personal. Like what you know about me." He buries his hurt beneath an academic's stare before he stops, "...Childhood...possession."

He holds up a hand, "Security object."

"In 1979 psychologist Richard Passman learned that 60% of children maintain a connection with a security object, a stuffed toy or a blanket. A later study concluded a significant drop in blood pressure when children went to the doctor with said object.

Travelodge, in 2007, conducted a study and found that 35% of adults in their hotels and motels still slept with stuffed animals while on vacation or traveling for business. A colleague of mine, Bruce Hood, has been studying Essentialism or the belief in objects and the ownership of them."

"It is relevant." He takes another drink, "Because I provided him information on talismans. Human beings maintain a sense of ownership over objects by touch. One of Bruce's studies involved gathering several children and telling them they could put their toys in a "copy box" that would make a duplicate of the item. When it came to their comfort objects - blankets, bears, and so on - 25% refused."

He points, "Talismans. Each object reveals facts about the person. I was working on a paper about how it's indicative of belief and translates to human mythology. So. What was your childhood security object."

The burbon was hitting, and Richard set it aside, inhaling deeply.

"Well, I can honestly say that I didn't expect that question." Alex just chuckles before she picks up her glass again and shifts to get comfortable in her chair as she rolls the glass over the tips of her fingers. "It was a raggedy old Eeyore. The classic sort, not the more obviously cartoon one. Someone had made him, it wasn't an official one so his nose was a little bit lopsided."

Alex pauses just for a second and then she continues, volunteering more information in a way that she knows Richard never would have done if she had been the one asking the questions, but she's not him and besides she's more than a little bit desperate to put the two of them on an even playing field as much as they could be.

"British Columbia had a program then, that a lot of people in nursing homes bad stuffed animals for kids who were going into foster care. That's how I got mine. Markus, my social worker gave him to me when he picked me up from my biological mother's house. Eeyore came with me from foster home to foster home before my parents adopted me. I still have him, actually but he's too fragile for snuggling anymore. I keep him on a shelf in my apartment."

She said snuggling. Despite the nature of everything, his grim past, all of his secrets exposed, he smiles and his smile is amused to the core.

"Animals, bears and the like, said that you want to protect people. I think most people adopt or keep those creatures who have nurturing personalities Would you say you have a nurturing protective personality Alex Reagan?"

Alex just grins back at him in the same easy way that she had back in easier and less fraught times before everything had gotten so bitter and bitey and sharp between them. She'd missed this honestly, missed the easiness of things before there had been Sexy James Bond and finding out that Coralee Strand was alive.

"I would say that I'm protective of people yes. I don't know how nurturing in. I try and be empathetic as often as I possibly can though."

"Your interviews reflect that. Your Michelle Obama interview was excellent."

His features soften, "I am fascinated by people's attachments to objects. They're talismans. Representations of our deepest attachments. Protective is another word for nurturing."

His voice softens, "But you are empathetic. You haven't tossed me out on my ass knowing my history."

"What would you like to tell me? That's it. Don't apologize." there's an edge to that, "Tell me something you want to share with me about you. The first thing that comes to mind."

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