weathertop | darling it's better down where it's wetter

darling it's better down where it's wetter

It's been a day, it's been a day, it's been a whole damn day -- as near as it's possible to tell in this soggy excuse for a city. It's been a day since he killed Fontaine. And Jack is no closer to getting out. He's still down here. He did everything he was supposed to do and he's still down here.

All he's found is locked-down bathyspheres. Broken submarines. Even the goddamn boats are out of service. Where's Tenenbaum? Where's his fucking rescue?

Jack stares about into the greenish gloom, checks the ammo in his pistol, and then kicks and yanks off the rusting panel of a vending machine. His hands are soon full of little wires and pipes. A few seconds later, he straightens up with a grunt, and the machine gives him a tidy discount on a couple glowing hypos of EVE.

With his visit extended indefinitely, he's begun to wonder how many of them are left.

Now arbitrarily divided into chapters!
Part One: A Scene at the Rapture Adoption Agency ~or~ You Found [Pot of Ham]!
Part Two: Come On-A My House, I'm Gonna Give-A You Candy ~or~ Sinclair? More Like Sin Pantalones!
Part Three: Dream Sequences are a Fresh New Concept in Fiction ~or~ It's My Existential Trauma and I'll Cry if I Want To
Part Four: Southern Education Jokes ~or~ Engineer, Engifar, Engiwherever You Are ~or~ The Grave Escape
Part Five: Golfing Accident Memoirs ~or~ Mom... Dad... I'm Immortal ~or~ How To Make Friends And Immolate People
Part Six: Is It A Pie? Is It A Plane?? ~or~ Two's Company, Three's a Row
Part Seven: Escort Missions! In Rapture! Council's In An Uproar ~or~ Bioshock: Cheesecake Edition
Part Eight: Bread, Milk, BATTLE! ~or~ Pleasant Conversations, How They Bore Me
Part Nine: Choices, Schmoices ~or~ Baby's First Moral Philosophy ~or~ Go Away I Want To Take A Damn Bath
Part Ten: A Man Snoozes; A Slave Delays ~or~ The Four Second Rule Applies To Drugs
Part Eleven: A Hearty Meal ~or~ Skeletons In The-- That's Not A Closet
Part Twelve: We All Live in a Secret Submarine ~or~ Plasmids: Not Even Once
Part Thirteen: Paging Dr Tenenbaum To Surgery ~or~ Bribery And Deduction
Part Fourteen: The Prodigal Son Returns

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dealing with the consequences.

"He is having a withdrawal?"

If she sounds alarmed, that's because she is. That shouldn't be happening. That should really not be happening. Of course it was all experimental, everything about Jack is experimental, but still -- did they get a calculation wrong?

"It looks that way to me."

But her surprise seems just a little unwarranted. If you give a man a drug, he's going to want more. If you keep giving him more, he's going to get used to always having more. And if you take it away, he's going to still want more. That's how drugs work.

She's a doctor, she knows that. So...what is he missing here?

She puts her hand over her face again, then strings her fingers together, steadying herself. Okay, yes, this is a pretty huge failure on her part. She must have made a serious scientific error somewhere along the line. But let's figure out how big that error was, and then instead of freaking out, let's find a way to fix it. That's what she does.

Has she really made a mistake? Is this what making mistakes feels like? She just doesn't make mistakes this big, at least not factual ones.

Regardless. It looks like -- what's that saying? -- there really is a first time for everything.

"Describe to me the symptoms," she says, very businesslike, very doctorlike. "No -- no, I will see him. Is he still -- to live at your apartment?"

Wow she needs to calm down and words properly. But she... doesn't fuck up. She tells other people when they're fucking up. She especially doesn't fuck up when the stakes are as high as they are here.

Sinclair nods, soaking in her tone.

Wow, Tenenbaum. What's gotten into you?

Wait, she can't see that.

"Yes ma'am," he says. "He's out right at the moment, but-- actually, he's out saving one of your girls. Something is better than nothing, I suppose, but it's not gonna last him."

"He is having a withdrawal from ADAM and you let him go out of your sight?"

Sinclair you're a [swear words in German meaning idiot].

Deep breath. Back to the steady tone. "Then you must describe for now."

"What was I supposed to do?" Sinclair nearly snaps, but reels his tone back in just in time. "The kid was shaking like a leaf, looked about ready to fall over any second. He needed the boost, I couldn't have kept him here if I wanted to."

He stops, exhales.

"Please, Doc. I...found out a few things I probably ought to've left well enough alone. Some things I need to ask you about. Both of us could use your help right about now, I will make it up to you."

"I will help, but I must know his symptoms."

She's already trying to help, if he'd actually give her anything specific to work with, jesus christmas. Tenenbaum is 300% done and rising.

"And then you will tell me what 'few things' you mean." Because that. Sounds bad. Quite, quite bad.

Sinclair breathes out in relief. She said she'll help, that's a step in the right direction.

"Well there's the shaking," he says, focusing on a spot on the carpet as he tries to recollect everything he can. "The shaking gets pretty bad. He gets quiet and irritable. Well." Ha. "Quieter and more irritable," he laughs.

Oh and the highlight of all of it-- "We were on our way back in just this afternoon and he nearly collapsed on a wall, turned white as a sheet, slow reaction time, seemed like everything was taking him a whole lot of effort."

There, are you happy?

Not particularly, no.

Lots of things could cause tremors, from ADAM withdrawal to the absolutely abysmal diet and hydration Jack partakes of. Quiet and irritable... hah. But a worry, if it's beyond the norm. Collapsing and poor responses... oh lord. Again, a few possibilities, some less innocent than others.

"What did he seem? Ah..." for example "tired? He had nausea? Or he was distracted, maybe?"

"I can't speak to the nausea," he tells her, "he didn't mention any of that. He seemed, uh... far away, I suppose you could say. Distant. Unfocused. But when we had to get up and move again he seemed alright. Not tip top shape, but he was moving."

He's not really sure what the question here is. Jack needs ADAM. Tenenbaum said it herself, these are withdrawals. The answer to that is ADAM. It's that simple.

Well Sinclair can just suck it up, because Tenenbaum's questions haven't finished yet.

"And the shaking, this is the only physical sign?"

"You mean..." Sinclair starts, but shakes his head. That's something he doesn't particularly care to think about, that's the stuff he's trying to prevent here. The physical signs that you can't turn back from.

"...Yes, that's everything. Listen, all he needs is just a little more ADAM now and again to make up for what he doesn't get from your girls anymore. He'll be fine if he can just get a little extra."

Yes, she does mean. Don't pussy out, Sinclair, it's just a bit of hideous mutation.

And it's good. It's good that there's no mutation. At worst Jack is in early stages and will eventually mutate, fall into insanity and die; at best he may get no worse than he is now. But that's a pretty huge range of possibilities. Tenenbaum wishes it weren't all so theoretical.

Although that would've meant even more human guinea pigs back in the day, so she tries not to wish it too hard.

Meanwhile, her doneness reaches 400% and keeps going.

"Which of us is called 'doctor', Mr Sinclair?" she says sharply. "I will tell you what he needs, and you will stop to be impatient. I am a small bit familiar with the working of ADAM."

Wow, cool it there Frau Doktor.

Sinclair takes a moment to recompose himself, aware that his tone was beginning to border desperate. It's not that he's frustrated with Tenenbaum, but if Jack doesn't get the ADAM he needs, he'll... change. Irreversibly. And they're too late in the game to start dealing with that. They need to stop it now.

"I'm aware of that, Doctor. ...I would very much prefer not to have this conversation over a radio."

And the near-desperation is strange. Is Jack really that vital to Sinclair's escape plan, to make him care so much?

Whatever's going on, Tenenbaum is very interested in helping for her own reasons. It's not every day you accidentally doom your estranged not-really-son to a chance at turning into Toasty.

"Then I will come in person. You are--"

"Mama Tenenbaum!" They've been interrupted by a squeaking door and a squeakinger voice. "Mama Tenenbaum, Mary won't give me back my--"

"One moment, child." Tenenbaum fakes patience, although she's pretty sure she deserves a medal for not yelling at anyone who steps in the room at this point. "You are in your home?" she repeats to the radio.

"Mama Tenen--"

"Shush."

"I'm here," he confirms. "For the rest of the evening most likely, although the sooner the better. I'm not sure how much of this stuff the kid will appreciate us discussing."

Good to know you have his best interests at heart, or something.

"Expect me soon, then. I will leave--"

"Mama Tenenbaaaaaaaaum!"

"--the moment I can."

And then they can discuss... whatever this is. Pretty much everything about the way Sinclair references it puts a weight of foreboding in Tenenbaum's chest.

Sinclair cuts off the transmission, laughing. She definitely has her hands full over there, he's not envious of that at all.

He puts on a fresh pot of coffee and washes up the dishes in the sink to kill time until Tenenbaum arrives. It'll be easier to talk to her in person, when he can read her face, when he has more of a reason to keep his own expression in check.

It takes some time and diplomatic ability to sort out the girls' quarrel, neither of which Tenenbaum has very much of. And she has two new children to check on, mercifully both still sleeping -- it pains her to leave them, because the first day or two after being cured is always rough, but this is an emergency. And then she also has to locate her shoes, which have found their way into the sparse dress-up box again, and make the children promise faithfully to do their schoolwork while she's out (maybe half of them will), before she finally gets out of the door.

P A R E N T H O O D

Maybe twenty minutes after the call ended, she hits Sinclair's doorbell. It's not been so long -- probably Jack won't have returned. But she still can't help looking over her shoulder.

C'mon, hurry up and answer before a splicer tries to eat her or something.

He's at the door in seconds, not having much else to do once he's finished with the few tasks he had set himself to.

The door swings open and he sweepingly invites her in, quickly shutting it behind her. He doesn't want the splicers to eat him either.

"Thanks again, doc," he says. "Would you care for some coffee?"

They've finally found something they can agree on!

"I would very much."

Not that looking after 74384358 young children on her own is tiring or anything ha ha ha...

"He is still out?"

Sinclair nods, wandering back into the kitchen. "I think after everything, he could probably do with some time to himself. It's been...a rough day. Cream and sugar?"

Yeah, between the withdrawal and Sinclair's unwelcome discovery it sounds like it has. Tenenbaum nods solemnly and fully intends to find out every detail.

And braces herself for an equally rough evening, because really, there are only so many terrible secrets to find out about Jack Ryan. And Sinclair's right. He should leave them well enough alone.

"Please. A little of both."

Living in the lap of luxury here, aren't you, Sinclair. Having fewer hungry mouths and freer trade access probably doesn't hurt.

She doesn't say anything else straight away, still going over the symptoms in her head. Shaking, collapse and lack of focus, and more... she's going to have to have a look at him in person as soon as possible. God, of all the things that might have failed, the safeguards against splicing degeneration...

A little of both it is, and Sinclair hands her her cup, silently leading them both back to the study again. If Jack walks in, he doesn't want to risk being overheard from the door.

Where to begin?

"...Do you think you'll be able to afford him the extra ADAM?"

"Perhaps yes."

She sits, warms her hands on the coffee mug.

"I will first examine him."

There's no way to adequately explain this to Sinclair, but she's not yet convinced that more ADAM is what he needs. And if he does... well, that gives her yet another reason to feel sick with the knowledge that he's out there looking for it.

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