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It’s a late night when Rodion finally gets enough time to visit Greg.
Limbus Company gave them a day off once Operation Spider Pyre had finished, the bare minimum carrot to forget about the Company’s armada of sticks. Not like Rodion had the energy to complain, she really needed that day off. She felt more tired than she’s ever been after those hellish fights in the Corridor, and it seemed like everyone else felt much the same. Not even Dante made it out unscathed, she saw how their hands were shaking from the stress of managing everyone.
So of course two days after it was back to work for everyone, rebuilding HQ alongside the other departments. Rodion’s role wasn’t too bad, she supposed. She didn’t have the architectural experience of Yi Sang, the managerial skills of Outis, or Meur’s brute strength, so she got put on the supplies team with Sinclair. It kind of reminded her of the early days of the Yurodivye, spreading out what little they had for whoever needed it. Except, y’know, less poor.
So yeah, she was busy.
Didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over not seeing him sooner.
It’s not like she hadn’t seen him at all since… y’know, all that. After the fight with the last of Ryoshu’s parents, she had woken up back in the ruins of the Thumb Nursefather’s area to find Verg still standing vigil over Greg’s unconscious body. Heathcliff (very cautiously) slung him over his shoulder to bring back to the extraction point.
Greg had woken up briefly, once, as they reunited with the LCD, LCE, and the rest of the sinners. It was just long enough to start coughing and hacking, before vomiting out onto the cold stone tiles. After that, he was out again. Among the red bile was a smooth metal orb: Valencina’s eye. Ryoshu took a long look at it with her eyebrows raised, then simply muttered “N.B., B.G. G.R.”
Ezra did not like having to pick that eye up to bring it back to HQ with them.
Oh, yeah, and Ryoshu. After her “turn” and all the violence and headaches it brought, Ryoshu… well, Rodion doubts she had the full picture, but she seemed as unapproachable as ever. Maybe a little calmer. Spent a lot of moments off to the side, cradling her new scabbard.
Back on topic. Could they have made the recovery ward easier to find? She should have a word with Yi Sang about that tomorrow. With how big HQ was, you’d think the signposting would be better. At last, she turned a corner.
Ah. She should’ve figured she wouldn’t be the only one here.
“Heyy, Heathcliff~” Rodion purred, walking up to the other Sinner. Heathcliff flinched from his position, awkwardly poised outside the door to Greg’s room.
“Bloody ‘ell, don’t scare me like that!”
“Hmm, sorry, sorry,” she said, not feeling very sorry at all. “You here to visit Greg too?”
“Yeah, uh,” He held out a small package in his scarred hands. “Found a vendin’ machine with a pack o’ Stubbles’ favorite cigs, thought I’d bring ‘em down for when he wakes up.”
“Ah.” Rodion said. She hadn’t thought to bring anything. She could leave behind one of her backup snack bags. She stepped forward to stand besides Heathcliff, both staring up at the imposing door. Everything here was taller than it needed to be.
“…You waiting outside for a reason?”
“Nah, just… killin’ time, I guess.”
Rodion shrugged. “No sense in waiting, I always say.” She stepped forward into Gregor’s holding room.
Greg was… physically fine, as far as anyone could tell. Dante had rewound the clock on him more than once, his arm was back to usual, he even got a K Corp Ampule. But he just… hadn’t woken up. So the Company decided to keep him hooked up to an IV and some monitoring machines. Then, they put all that behind a wall of reinforced glass, not unlike the cells of the abnormalities and distortions contained in the facility.
…Maybe not an untoward comparison, given what they’d seen.
Heathcliff and Rodion stood silently, staring at the glass.
“Can’t imagine what it must have been like for him. Turning into… that thing.”
“...I can imagine it a little bit,” Heathcliff muttered.
“...What’d it feel like? Back then?”
“...Do you remember how you felt at your lowest?”
“Always,” Rodion replied. I’m still there.
“There was… a voice that spoke to me. It convinced me that I’d be there forever. So I might as well… let my hurt take over.”
Rodion stared at Greg’s arm, propped up over the thin medical blanket.
“...Verg said it wasn’t a distortion. Or an E.G.O. That was… just another part of him.”
“...He’ll… He’ll be all right, yeah? We’ll be there to smack ‘im back into his senses if needed. We already did it once, we can do it again.”
“Y-yeah!” Rodya smiled. “I’m sure everything’ll turn out just fine,” she lied.
Heathcliff scratched the back of his head. “…Was gonna ask you ‘bout somethin’, now the topic’s come up.”
“Oh?” Rodya asked.
“Yeah. When Stubbles… when Gregor wakes up, I think-”
“What, you wanna make a pact to kill him if he transforms again???”
“Wh- no, no! I was gonna say we… shouldn’t treat him any different. Try not to act afraid of him or nothin’.”
“Eh? You think so?”
“Not gonna be easy. Thought I was okay with bugs but they were just… all over.”
They shivered in unison, recalling the dank Corridor, the sensation of dozens of dozens of legs skittering across them, and the uncanny sounds of the Roach Emperor reciting something between marching orders and lullabies.
“…Reminded me o’ that first night in H Corp, with the Sweepers crawlin’ all over the place, gettin’ their hooks on ya.”
Rodya sighs. “Yeah, yeah, everyone has nightmares over their first Sweepers encounter. You're not special for it.”
“Oi, what’s with the lip? I grew up in the Backstreets same as you did.”
“You grew up in a mansion, Heathcliff,” Rodion replied, voice chilly. “We were all there, remember?”
Heathcliff turned his eyes away. “Yeah, well… that place wasn’t home to me, mate.”
The room was silent, except for the sound of the beeping medical machines.
“...Hey, don’t look so glum now!” Rodya said, slipping back into the mask. “It’s not like I hold it against you or anything!”
Heathcliff glared at her. “...You ain’t gotta lie to me.”
Rodion went still.
“...Sorry, just. I was born in the Backstreets, ‘n spent the better part of my time at that shithole runnin’ with the Dead Rabbits. So… what’s the issue?”
Rodion sighs. “...Because you had a place to go back to. You had a place with four walls, a roof, heat, and food. Hell, so did everyone else on the bus. You’ve never been so cold that falling asleep is a gamble on whether you’ll wake up. You’ve never been so hungry that you start to consider lopping off a finger just to have something to gnaw on. I know everyone’s had their fair share of struggles, I’ve seen the better part of them. But… class sticks to people, like a haze of smoke. Once you start noticing it, you can never stop.”
“…Yeah, alright. I don’t get it,” Heathcliff admitted. “But… I can’t fully wrap my head around what happened to Blondie ‘cuz I’m not a bloodfiend. Or Stubbles, or the sailor lass, or the rich lad. I’m not them. Can’t ever know what someone else’s thinkin’, yeah?” He paused, and looked Rodya dead in the eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna try.”
His eyes sunk to the floor again, as he muttered a final addendum.
“We’re… all any of us have, really.”
The words sank like footprints in fresh snowfall. Rodion remembered, once, how Heathcliff had called the sinners ‘family’. She couldn’t quite see that. Rodion’s family was… one of several things she avoided thinking about. Brought the mood down. The sinners were not her family.
…But they didn’t need to be just coworkers, either.
“…Sorry.”
“Eh, forget it. No skin off my nose.”
It’s quiet, for a stretch of about two minutes.
“...Were you really gonna lop off some bloke’s finger?”
“Hm? Oh, no, no! I still wouldn’t go as far as that. This wasn’t district 23 we’re talking about. But… my own, well… maybe.”
“Had a mate who’d moved down to T Corp from 23. He didn’t keep the habit, but he didn’t hide his opinion ‘bout it, neither.”
“Which was?”
“‘pparently we taste better than rat meat.”
Rodion laughed. “Pfft. Well, depends on how it’s prepared, really…”
They spoke for a little while longer. About the ways their Backstreets were different, and all the ways they were the same.
Rodion yawned, loudly. “Well. I’m beat. Gonna head back to the dorm area. You?”
Heathcliff hesitated in the doorway. “...Nah, gonna stay here for a bit. Someone’s gotta spread the word if he wakes, yeah? ‘Sides, still need to give him the cigs.”
“Ah, that reminds me.” Rodion fished around in her jacket pocket, pulling out two baggies of S-Corp branded cookies. She’d always liked this type. High calorie count. “One of these is for Greg. You can have the other.”
“Oi, you willingly givin’ me food? You sure you feelin’ alright, lass?”
“Har har,” Rodya said, turning to walk away. “If I find out you ate both I’ll knock you out. G’night, Heathcliff.”
“Night, mate.”