Chapter Text
***
You manage to sleep through the night, for what seems like the first time in forever, waking up well rested, long before the alarm.
Getting out of the bed is no problem at all and the half forgotten morning routine you once tried to force yourself to follow now slides onto you like a well worn robe.
You are showered, shaved and ready for work a full hour before leaving.
PANACHE - Every day from now on will be like this!
A rare sense of calm washes over you, tinged with a zesty dash of hope, made light with the bubbles of optimism.
FRATERNITÉ - You could go out right now and be a different, better person instantly!
There’s a future somewhere out there, not just for you, but for those around you, in relation to you, and you’re facing it with-
HINDSIGHT - You should really talk to Harry.
The sense of carbonated calm turns stale with dread.
PANACHE - Dude, come on!
FRATERNITÉ - Is now really the time?
JE NE SAIS QUOI - Mid-bite of a freshly baked chocolate croissant, the pastry chef realizes he cut the butter with the same knife he minced the garlic with.
HINDSIGHT - Look, I know it’s not going to be fun, but we promised Kim!
PANACHE - Captain Mood Killer, reporting for duty!
FRATERNITÉ - There's a good chance talking to Harry about sad, serious things will bring the old you out again. Just be nice and neutral to Harry instead, and eventually it will all resolve itself!
PANACHE - Yeah, talking to Harry would totally cramp your new and improved cool guy who does good things style.
HINDSIGHT - We’re just avoiding the real issue, like we always do.
You can feel the weight on your shoulders slowly crawling back, making its way deeper into your chest. It whispers of inevitable failure born of a long and shameful routine.
PANACHE - Wow lookie who’s dragging us down now.
FRATERNITÉ - It’s so hard to start over, why would he torture himself right now, when it’s going well?
SAVANT - Perchance we did not get rid of the entire problem yesterday…
HINDSIGHT - What do you mean?
PANACHE - Fellas, I do think we have one more Bad Voice left…
HINDSIGHT - Wait-!
SAVANT - Even your name is stupid. You know the word 'FORESIGHT' exists, right?
HINDSIGHT - That’s not-!
PANACHE - Guess you didn't quite have the foresight to pick up a thesaurus, huh?
HINDSIGHT - No, it's different, I'm specifically reminding him of things he'll regret later!
FRATERNITÉ - So you're here purely to make him feel bad about his choices, before he even makes them and then you double down on the shame when he inevitably goes through with them?
HINDSIGHT - It's not like that! If he'd just listen to me once!
PANACHE - Yeah, I don't believe you.
SAVANT - He listened to you multiple times, actually.
PANACHE - You just keep telling him he doesn't…
FRATERNITÉ - Setting him up to fail either way…
PANACHE - You know, If you're in market for another name, GASLIGHT's still free.
SAVANT - Everyone in favor of timing out GASLIGHT, until it learns to behave in a positive, uplifting manner, say AYE.
FRATERNITÉ - AYE
PANACHE - AYE, AYE!
JE NE SAIS QUOI - One should go limp while drowning, lest they drag their rescuers down with them.
SAVANT - The AYEs have it.
A single pent up sphere of angry air floats from the bottom of a boiling pot and then your mind is clear and simmering gently once more.
PANACHE - To new Jean!
SAVANT - To a better Jean!
FRATERNITÉ - To Good Jean!
***
You arrive at the station almost an hour early. The front is empty, save for two officers smoking poorly rolled cigarettes.
Sergeants Chester McLaine and Mack “the Torso” Torson, precinct 41’s unofficial C team, despite there being no B team in between them and what used to be Harry and you. They’re likely just ending their night shift.
You wave at them cheerfully and watch them recoil as if you flipped them off.
FRATERNITÉ - Not the best response, but you have to start somewhere!
Torson recovers first.
"Hey, Vic, since you're so cheery today, wanna do my night shift report?”
FRATERNITÉ - Here it is! Your first good deed of the day!
"Sure, Torso."
Torson stops so abruptly that Chester bumps into him. They both like you just flashbanged them.
FRATERNITÉ - Stunned by your good deed, it really shows how unfortunately rare they are.
"What, for real?" Torson says, finally.
"Is he on something?", he whispers to Chester, eyeing you suspiciously.
"Shut up!", whispers Chester, elbowing Torson into silence before turning back to you.
"Hey, Vic, wanna take mine as well?"
FRATERNITÉ - That's a lot of extra work, but It'd be awkward if you just helped one of them, while both are watching!
“Sure thing, McLaine, leave it on my desk.”
As you walk on, you can see them ace’s high each other and look back at you conspiratorially.
You can hear a whisper and then a snort.
FRATERNITÉ - They’re a bit rough around the edges, but I’m sure deep down they really appreciated the gesture.
SAVANT - You'll do a much better job writing it anyway.
FRATERNITÉ - It's good, you’re being so good, and it’s not even 8AM!
PANACHE - You’ve solved not one, but two interpersonal relationships before your morning coffee, and it’s just the beginning!
SAVANT - That’s two resolved issues per half an hour of being a brand new person! If we follow this pace, you’ll be done by lunch break. The only thing holding you back right now is the lack of easily accessible people to make amends to.
FRATERNITÉ - Hm, yes, it seems no one besides you and the sergeants came in this early. You could offer to sweep the precinct instead of the janitor, but it might hurt his professional pride. Maybe you could call someone?
PANACHE - Faux-pas alert! It’s way too early for a phone call, you’ll be waking people up and that’s no way to make amends.
SAVANT - Lazy bastards, this is really hurting your RIPM (resolved issue per minute) score.
PANACHE - Better pick another, non interpersonal thing to excel at.
To the left of the building, by the steel morgue/medical bay door, you notice doctor Gottlieb, the station’s lazareth. He's having a smoke break of his own. It seems he woke up early to finish his corpse-disinfection job before the station’s faulty freezers could fail him.
PANACHE - That’s it! You could probably solve that silly little case right now and on your very own! Everyone will be very impressed by how cool you are!
SAVANT - And smart!
FRATERNITÉ - And considerate!
You wave cheerfully to the lazaret and motion inside the morgue.
He nods, puts out the cigarette and opens the door, waiting for you.
FRATERNITÉ - He’s not surprised, you often did parts of the investigation alone, when Harry got a little too much to deal with.
PANACHE - You have a different, way cooler reason now!
***
Inside the morgue, Gottlieb unveils the cadaver, then stands to the side, yawning under his breath.
“Here we go, the body has been decontaminated and is safe to handle, officer Vicquemare. I will start the autopsy once you, or the rest of the team, have finished with the inspection.”
PANACHE - Alright, we know how this goes, start the super mega detective protocol!
~ AUTOPSY ASSUMPTIONS 2.0 (SUPER CREDIBLE) ~
ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS:
-YOU (super mega detective, new person)
-DR GOTTLIEB (blinking away last tendrils of sleep)
PASSIVE PARTICIPANTS:
-DEAD MAN (still dead)
-RESPECT AND GRATITUDE OF YOUR FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES (pending, but assured)
DEAD MAN - He’s laying on the autopsy table, unmoving, skin slightly blue from decontamination procedures and uneven freezing of the RCM morgue.
PANACHE - Still as a corpse!
SAVANT - Fun fact! There was a recorded trend of hastily examined corpses later waking up in the morgue due to cooler temperatures halting oxygen needs of internal processes and allowing more time between stop of vital signs and actual cell death, especially after cases of stroke, asphyxiation or drug interaction. This one has been shot in the head, so this isn’t relevant to him at all!
FRATERNITÉ - You feel a sense of mortality and second-hand regret wash over you. Whoever he was, his life has been taken suddenly and without warning. If he had any amends he needed to make, he likely never got the chance to.
"He's dead."
Gottlieb raises an eyebrow.
"Alright… anything else?"
FRATERNITÉ - He thinks you're joking, but it's slightly too early in the morning to laugh.
PANACHE - The ring, mention the ring!
DEAD MAN - There's a gold ring on his finger, slightly chewed on.
SAVANT - Despite having an enviable density of 19.3 grams per cubic centimeter, gold is one of the softest air-stable metals, scoring only 2.5 on the Mohs scale! This has made people believe biting into it works as a primitive test of authenticity, despite the fact that lead, commonly used in forgeries, scores even lower.
FRATERNITÉ - In some cultures, married couples bite each other’s newly ringed fingers as an act of commitment.
PANACHE - I thought it was the rats. You know, the rats at the crime site.
SAVANT - Hm yes, possibly it was just the rats.
FRATERNITÉ - Oh yeah, it was probably the rats in this case, sorry I brought it up, my bad.
PANACHE - It does look like a wedding ring though! That's a good fact for ya!
“And Married?"
Gottlieb's second eyebrow joins the first.
FRATERNITÉ - Now he's worried you're being serious.
PANACHE - Fuck, we're normally so good at this!
FRATERNITÉ - Well none of us are exactly what you'd call 'crime-scene-ready'.
SAVANT - Speak for yourself, I’m just being dragged down by the “company” here!
PANACHE - Why you little-
Lazareth pats you on the shoulder.
"Maybe we can continue the autopsy after the rest of the team arrives." He says, not unkindly. “Let’s go upstairs, Vic, I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
***
It's eight in the morning when you finally enter the main building of RCM's 41st precinct, holding what you strongly suspect was a pity coffee.
It’s how you usually take it, but now It tastes a bit too bitter for how your day was supposed to go.
There’s a pile of paperwork on your desk, leaning precariously to the side. It surprises you at first, before you remember your promise to the C team. By the looks of it, there might be several out of date traffic tickets and half finished travel expense forms in the pile as well.
FRATERNITÉ - The size of the paperwork pile equals the size of your growth!
PANACHE - What it really equals is two to four additional hours of mind-numbing office work.
SAVANT - This will negatively affect our RIPM (resolved issue per minute).
PANACHE - Those little bastards!
HINDSIGHT - If I may…
PANACHE - Dolores fucking Dei, who let the little bastard out?
HINDSIGHT - I just want to-
SAVANT - Here we go again.
HINDSIGHT - I was just thinking , since we’re so, ahem , good at things now, we could maybe channel that excellence and tackle the biggest problem first, instead of all these little ones? I promise it will make everything else even easier!
PANACHE - Alright, ALRIGHT! spit it out, so we can shut you down faster.
HINDSIGHT - We should go and apologize to Harry!
PANACHE - That's…
PANACHE - …not that bad, actually.
FRATERNITÉ - Oh yea, apologizing to people is a super good and normal thing to do. It will make everyone feel way better instantly! It might even make us good at stuff again!
SAVANT - Saying “I’m sorry” can take anywhere from a second to 40 miliseconds, even less if you say it really fast!
PANACHE - That's a helluva lot of bang for our buck!
FRATERNITÉ - We should probably take a little longer than that…
SAVANT - Anything up to a minute still seems worth it, statistically speaking.
PANACHE - Apology quest, engaged!
***
It’s not that long until the official start of workday by now, so you know to find Harry in the station’s sparsely equipped gym. He’s been trying to regain his muscle mass and you're fairly sure it's because he told Kim to watch him lift a bin last month and then had to wear an arm brace for a week.
He turns around when he hears you enter and instantly gives you his usual, guilty old dog stare.
"We have to talk. Sit down.”
Harry sits down immediately, which means he ends up on the floor and not on any of the nearby benches.
You sigh and sit down on the floor beside him. It's probably easier.
"Harry, your stupid stunt in the bar gave me mind-herpes."
He gasps in self-flagellating terror.
"Oh fuck, I'm so sorry!"
FRATERNITÉ - He has no idea what mind-herpes is, but he's fully prepared to believe he gave it to you.
PANACHE - Normally, the pathetic, overly apologetic tone would get on your nerves, but you’re totally past that now!
You struggle on how to properly explain what happened without directly quoting any of the mind-herpes virusii.
"You know how you used to pretend you had like, supra-natural mind powers that talked to you?”
He nods. He doesn’t remember, but he can assume it’d happened
“Well yesterday when you did your little car chase pantomime, you somehow caused me to develop what I can only assume is actual supra-natural mind powers and boy are they-"
You stop, noticing his expression.
"I did?!" Harry's practically beaming with excitement.
He notices your expression.
"I mean, I did?" He tries again, brows knotting in faux-horror so over the top, it would make a telenovela actor blush and leave the set in shame.
You groan and bury your face in your hands. Of course he's happy about it.
"I call mine skills, y'know, like in Wirral." Harry continues after what he likely judged was the bare minimum of a respectful pause required to let you deal with the horror of your new existence.
"Of course you do." You say, without much bite.
FRATERNITÉ - The way you're sitting, the expression on his face, it all reminds you of playtime in the Pox. Children sitting in a loose circle on sparse grass, each with a toy in hand, each eager to talk about it. An interest symposium.
"So what colors are yours?" Harry's practically vibrating.
FRATERNITÉ - Exactly like a kid during playtime. No one has ever brought the same toys as he. He's *giddy*.
"Uh, just varying shades of black I guess?"
FRATERNITÉ - His Desk looks like an explosion at a recycling plant, but the voices inside his head are color coded.
"How many are there, I have 24!”
"Six- well actually five now, I guess."
"Whoa, they must be super powerful then!" Harry seems impressed by the sheer concentrated power of your personality.
SAVANT - As he should be!
You snort.
"More like worthless, there's maybe two that are maybe worth listening to 10% of the time."
PANACHE - Ouch! that's *must* be tough to hear for some of you.
SAVANT - I wonder which one of you he meant by that, besides me of course.
PANACHE - He absolutely did not mean you.
SAVANT - Well, *I'm* the only one giving him cold hard objective facts, you lot are basically just opinions anyone could have.
PANACHE - Ah yes, the 'random objective facts' giver, everyone's favorite person.
FRATERNITÉ - What exactly do you do that Trant doesn't?
SAVANT - well I-
JE NE SAIS QUOI - Four songbirds on a wire, twittering at each other. Above them a wise old owl watches wisely, unbothered by their squeaking.
HINDSIGHT - I'll admit it's probably not me, I don't think he listened to me once yet.
PANACHE - HERE WE GO AGAIN!
"Fuck, I shouldn't have said that, they're fighting over who those two are now."
Harry blinks in surprise.
"They talk to each other a lot?"
"Shit, they never fucking stop, it's like they forget I'm here sometimes.
"Mine barely acknowledge each other…" He says, thoughtfully.
"Maybe drinking your brain onto a mush WAS the answer all along."
That flips Harry into one of his zone-out moods for a moment, presumably asking voice-anthropology related questions to his own array of mind-bastards. You hope they’re not actually weighing the benefits of alcoholism.
"Maybe they're just new to this, getting to know each other and stuff." He says, finally.
“Or maybe they’re all a bunch of shitheads. You should’ve seen the ones I had to get rid of.”
There's an expression that passes Harry’s face, like you're the one being unreasonable about the mind-herpes.
"Don't give me that fucking look, like you're a brain parasite rights activist now."
"It's just, I don't think any skill-I mean voice is really just good or bad. It's like y'know," Harry makes a series of very vague gestures. "-give and take, mix and match kinda thing."
"Bullshit. You're telling me that if you had a voice that just made you do drugs, you'd listen to it out of what? Sheer rabid centrism?"
Harry gapes at you, somewhere between surprise and indignation. "ELECTROCHEMISTRY doesn't *just* make me do drugs!"
You bury your face in your hands, once again.
"Of course you have a fucking drug voice."
"It's NOT just a drug voice! It's also a fuck voice!"
"Of course the drug voice is also the fuck voice."
"It's just things that make your body feel good, sometimes that's good for you." He sounds defensive of the drug and fuck voice.
"Yes, I can't imagine the horror your life would be without drugs and fuck."
From the micro-expressions on his face, you can almost feel the shape of conversation taking place.
FRATERNITÉ - He's subconsciously more open about it, now that you know about Them too.
"Let me guess, ELECTROCHEMISTRY just told you I'm cramping your style hardcore and that you should ditch this sorry health joint to get super high?"
Harry looks at you like you're some sort of a magician. "NO, IT DIDN'T SAY THAT." He shouts
SAVANT - Not to brag, but I definitely caught the way he said that *it* (it here being the skill known as ELECTROCHEMISTRY) didn't say *that* (that here being you cramping his style), so ergo *it* didn't say *that* but *it* definitely said *something else*!
FRATERNITÉ - ...actually, I don't think ELECTROCHEMISTRY hates you.
PANACHE - Oh Jean, my man, ELECTROCHEMISTRY definitely doesn't hate you.
SAVANT - Because it thinks we can get him more drugs?
FRATERNITÉ - …
HINDSIGHT - …
PANACHE - Maybe you do need the fuck voice.
Thought gained : The Fuck Voice
YOU - I don't need the goddamn fuck voice, I can fuck just fine by my damn self, cancel thought.
SAVANT - Hey, sorry about this, no idea how to cancel thoughts, I'm not entirely sure how the thoughts even work yet. Maybe you should ask Harry about it.
PANACHE - That's right Jean, you should definitely ask Harry how to cancel the 'fuck voice'.
Task gained : Definitely Ask Harry How to Cancel the Fuck Voice
PANACHE - I was very obviously kidding, but yes, go ahead, use those exact words.
SAVANT - I still think this might all be about drugs, actually.
PANACHE - Why are we this dumb? Jean's not that dumb. Jean's definitely a dark, mysterious fuck-staillion.
HINDSIGHT - I think, in hindsight, it was probably the tar pit crew that used to run this bit. Also used to ruin this bit before it got them anywhere. But they knew what this bit was all about.
Back in reality, Harry suddenly grabs two dumbbells and starts pumping them with reckless abandon.
YOU - the hell…?
FRATERNITÉ - My god. You weren't giving him any outs from whatever this situation has turned into, so he just started curling the nearest pair of weights to avoid it though sheer dumb machismo. You're both still sitting next to each other on the floor, so it looks *extra* stupid.
HINDSIGHT - It's also very bad form. He's going to be in so much pain tomorrow. You can tell from the way his neck is straining. His stupid, thick, sweaty neck.
PANACHE - Biceps flex under his old, worn out gym shirt. It really is super stupid how it's a bit too small for him now and every curl makes it catch on his stupid meaty pecs. He looks so, so stupid. Especially since the sweat makes the fabric stick a little.
SAVANT - Speaking of all this sweat, he might be on drugs right now! He's got that sweaty, feverish, glassy look in his eyes. Classic drug look. In fact *you* might be on drugs too. Or you might be sick. You should take drugs for that.
HINDSIGHT - ...
HINDSIGHT - God, we do, actually need the 'fuck voice'.
PANACHE - Yep, sorry boss, none of us have the emotional capacity to describe what exactly is going on. Can we maybe manifest that fuck voice faster somehow? I really feel out of my depth here.
HINDSIGHT - We might have one already and it just got trapped somewhere in the tar pit, we could dig it up and hose it down a little, no need to reinvent the fuck wheel!
Thought Upgraded - Faster Fuck Voice. Search the pit.
You shake your head to hopefully dislodge whatever involuntary fuck-beaurocary infrastructure you got infested with.
"Fuck that, I didn't come here to compare mind-dicks. Harry, I have something I have to tell you.”
Harry gives you his best deer-in-headlights impression.
FRATERNITÉ - He already said it to you, approximately a million times since turning his life around, the least you can do is say it back once!
PANACHE - Here it comes! Three words that will solve everything!
“Harry-...”
SAVANT - 40 to 100 milliseconds until lift off!
“I’m sorry.”
It's way easier than you thought it would be, you wonder why you hadn't thought of this before.
There’s a truly momentous pause as you wait for all your problems to be over.
Then Harry turns to the side, scratching his neck awkwardly.
“Well you don’t have to be sorry for anything, I’m definitely the bad one.” He says with grim conviction.
The sweet release of guilt and stress does not come. There is a nagging feeling of incompleteness. You somehow feel angier.
PANACHE - What a scam, this was meant to solve it all!
HINDSIGHT - Honestly, I did not see that coming.
SAVANT - This did not even count towards our RIPM !
FRATERNITÉ - He doesn’t believe we meant it. He feels MORE guilty now.
FRATERNITÉ - I don’t understand. We did mean it, didn’t we?
SAVANT - Of course, not forgiving is objectively worse than forgiving. The stress-induced hormonal imbalance was wreaking havoc on our system.
FRATERNITÉ - It just made us feel bad all the time and it was making others feel even worse!
PANACHE - The rest were starting to resent us for the way we act, it was really cramping our style.
“Goddamit, Harry, just accept the damn apology so we can move the fuck on!”
“Oh, right! Sorry!” The guilty, old dog stare is back. “Apology super accepted! Beaming that apology directly into my brain as we speak, whoa there it goes into the accepted box!”
FRATERNITÉ - You can tell he doesn't mean it. Because he thinks we didn't either.
PANACHE - God fucking dammit!
“Moving-on protocols engaged.” He’s doing what you suspect is supposed to be a robot voice, along with, for some reason, mimicking the robot having laser guns for hands.
You're not quite sure why a moving-on protocols robot needs to be armed.
YOU - What the fuck do I do now?
SAVANT - Well-uh-
PANACHE - Uhhhh-
HINDSIGHT - Hmmm…?
FRATERNITÉ - Hug him? No, forget I said anything, he’s still doing the apology robot.
JE NE SAIS QUI - A vast field filled with crickets, unaware their song of life is our song of emptiness.
Meanwhile, Harry finally notices Sorrybot 3000 didn’t have the desired effect and goes back to awkward weight curling.
PANACHE - This is honestly so sad for everyone involved.
You stare the man who used to be your partner for what must've been a lifetime.
His back is turned towards you now. A step, but also an eternity away. Your mind still retains a spritz of that hopeful newness you woke up with, but is also completely blank of anything that could possibly be said.
You suddenly recall the quantum time-divide you felt during that initial bridge-jump. The feeling of total, untraversable alienation from those around you.
Like you could never relate to a single human ever again. Like there's not enough of you there to truly exist. An island being swallowed by the pale, opaque fog, slowly rolling further and further inland.
Now would be a good moment to do something.
Anything, really.
FRATERNITÉ - …
SAVANT - …
HINDSIGHT - …
JE NE SAIS QUOI - …
PANACHE - …
PANACHE - Fellas. It pains me to say this, but I don't think we're actually the 'good voices' .
HINDSIGHT - But-
PANACHE - Look at us, we can’t stand up for ourselves, look at dead bodies, fuck OR apologise.
HINDSIGHT - But-
FRATERNITÉ - I think…
FRATERNITÉ - I think we might just be the voices that still tolerated Harry, so they didn't want us in the Pit.
HINDSIGHT - …
HINDSIGHT - OH MY GOD, WE’RE THE USELESS PUSHOVERS!
SAVANT - I object to the term useless, but I will admit I’ve been feeling a bit out of my depth during certain-
FRATERNITÉ - That’s why we can’t apologize, it doesn’t mean anything if we apologize.
PANACHE - So, what’s the solution here, We dig up the Old Jean back? We grow a brand new, equally awful personality from scratch?
FRATERNITÉ - I… don’t know.
FRATERNITÉ - But surely we can’t just go back to how- that can’t be what- can we even-
“Jean, I’ve been thinking-”
Your self-reflection doom spiral is interrupted by the majority cause of it.
“Maybe we should try, you know, therapy." Harry continues, not quite meeting your eyes. "Trant was offering to-”
The sheer notion of Harrier Du Bois not only going to therapy, but suggesting it to someone else, is enough to completely derail whatever metaphysical ennui was trying to swallow you just a moment ago.
“Therapy? You ?” You rasp out, after you finish laugh-coughing.
That did actually make him turn to face you, visibly confused as to why you’d think he wouldn't be #1 therapy fan.
“Jean, I am extremely mentally ill. Not to brag, but I probably have the most mental illness out of anyone that has ever existed.” He explains to you, slowly, as if worried you’ve hit your head while he wasn’t looking.
“You used to say therapy was just a fake thing women did when they felt sad.”
His eyebrows knit together. You can tell his versions of SAVANT and FRATERNITÉ are trying to explain to him the intricacies of historical demonization of psychological help and possibly also the concept of gender.
“Why would I say that?” He asks, clearly still baffled. “Of course therapy benefits everyone, but men especially are in need of it due to our repression-based early socialization that forces us to never closely examine any of our-”
“Alright, alright-” You cut in, to hopefully break him out of the sudden onset theory dump. “What did Trant say about therapy? I thought the station couldn’t afford anything more expensive than a medium sized motivational poster?”
***
To be continued