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

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It's not that she doesn't agree with that, but -- she's sure that it's just sweet-talk. Sinclair's way with words has earned him a bit of a reputation.

"Yes. But perhaps not one of us, who is so like his fathers."

That would be a sick burn if Sinclair actually knew as much as he's pretending to.

Fathers, plural. There's definitely a huge piece that he's missing here, and he thinks he's only just starting to piece it together. But. Even for Rapture, this is pretty out there. If this is what it sounds like.

Still, he can't come up with a response quickly enough to cover up the fact that he's a little lost.

"I don't know who else there is," he decides to say.

Tenenbaum...

...really wishes she had a good answer to that.

She exhales slowly and looks away for a few moments. Then turns around for real so that she's facing him again, not just looking over her shoulder at him.

This does not mean he's won, okay? This doesn't indicate trust or respect or anything like that. All it means is that Jack needs help, more than ever now if he really is going into ADAM withdrawal. It's the child out in the city who her responsibility is towards, not the man in front of her. All it means is that she hasn't walked out of the room yet.

...She's not sure what to say, though. Everything negative seems petty and everything positive seems hollow.

Sinclair relaxes a little more when Tenenbaum turns back around. He doesn't require trust or respect, just a little cooperation. If they have a common goal, if they can be allies in any way, that's all he needs.

"So yes," he continues. "I would like to help him."

She gives him a long look.

"I can treat him, I can speak with him. But speaking of his past with you? That will not help him."

He returns her stare for as long as it lasts, nowhere near ready to just give this up.

"It'll help me if I know exactly what I'm dealing with. He's got some history that's hard to just walk away from, I get that. I do. But we've got plans, doc, and if he's stuck down here in his mind then he's no good to anyone once we get topside. And that includes himself."

He sighs and shakes his head, running his hand over his face.

"I didn't bring you here to argue with you, I apologize. Let me get you another cup of coffee."

She looks at her coffee mug, the drink in it yet untouched, but doesn't try to stop him.

"Be careful, Sinclair. It may begin to sound as if you actually care for the child."

And as we all know that concept is miles beyond laughable.

Well apparently it's not beyond laughable because Sinclair still laughs. Doctor Tenenbaum has tickled his icy heart.

"This kid is the most useful ally I could've asked for right about now. It serves me well in the long run to make sure he's happy enough to do what we've got to do. There's no need to get sentimental."

Tenenbaum's mouth thins with distaste.

"And so you tell him you are his friend?" It's not a great leap -- Jack seems cool with Sinclair and she doubts that would be the case if Sinclair was being openly manipulative. "Until you do not need him? Tread carefully. The last man to do this, it did not go so well for him."

Of course, that's less of a warning and more of a 'you're going to get yours and good riddance'.

It's not exactly flattering to be compared to Andrew Ryan in any context, but he gets the gist of what she's trying to tell him.

"I should think the only reason I would need to concern myself with treading carefully is if I had something to hide from him. But I never claimed to be his friend. We share a common interest, one I imagine you've got as well. I don't see why we shouldn't all work alongside one another, but it's not a perfect world."

He pauses, thinking.

"I promised not to waste your time, Doctor, and I intend to make good on that. I'd like to offer you a bargain of sorts."

And now this is a crap shoot, but where they are right now it looks to be his last chance at getting anything out of Tenenbaum. Anticipating an objection, he continues, keeping his voice low and somewhat serious. He means what he's about to say, even if she's predisposed to disbelieve him. The best he can do is try to be as straightforward as possible and hope she considers it before assuming he's playing her.

"I seem to recall hearing that you've had...issues in the past, buying your groceries to feed your girls. I'd like to help you. If you can spare a minute to talk with me about what I learned in that room today, I will give you whatever you need for your groceries until you're able to leave here."

He stops again, just for a moment, trying to read her face. This is the best offer he's got. For the amount of time he figures he's got left in Rapture, the currency down here is useless topside, he can afford to feed as many mouths as she's harboring for as long as he's got to.

"...I know I haven't got a charitable reputation, but all I ask for is a few minutes of your time for conversation and I will give you whatever you need for as long as you need it."

...And that, friends, is why you don't let on any of your weaknesses to a businessman.

If Tenenbaum's mouth thins any further her lips are just plain going to fuse together, but still, she manages to look even colder as Sinclair's proposition comes out. It feels like bribery, rather than a bargain. It's Jack's history as much as hers, and she's pretty sure he should have a say in when and where it gets discussed. Now that he's ~~god willing~~ no longer actively working against her girls, it seems extra important to regard his wishes.

But, at the same time.

Food is a problem. Some people might be able to survive on cake bars from trash cans, but the girls need better than that, and in greater quantities than she's been able to provide. Some of the older ones don't say it, but they're all hungry. She's hungry. Her last square meal was before she went into hiding.

The coldness in her face is uncertain. Her eyes go to the side -- she's thinking it over.

It's the girls against Jack, in a way.

But not really. It's the girls' health, against information that Sinclair has proven he already knows. The girls' health and her own -- her face is a lot gaunter than it was a year ago. Her girls will have no-one if she starves to death. And also, y'know, there's kind of an inherent appeal in not starving, let's not get all Gandhi about this.

Is this another devil's deal or is it an opportunity? She's definitely leaning towards the latter.

In the end, the biggest question is really whether Sinclair intends to deliver.

At last she asks, slowly: "And how do I know you will remember your side of the bargain?"

Sinclair nods. It's a fair question, if he were in her shoes he would ask the same thing.

"When you leave here today, you're welcome to anything I've got. I know it doesn't mean anything in the long run, but I hope you'll trust that I will pass along whatever I can."

The likelihood of Tenenbaum passing this offer up is extremely slim. Sinclair can see it all over her face that she knows this is something she probably needs. The fact that it's a matter of trust is something of a shame. It's not very often he finds himself asking someone to trust him and hoping they actually do.

She really doesn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but the potential gain if he's willing to come through on his end of the bargain is enough to make her put that aside. Mostly.

"Very well," she says. Her voice is still a bit reluctant; it's her past as well, and not a glowing era of it, even though she doesn't much care what Sinclair ends up thinking of her. "And if you are true to your promise, I will consider this an unexpected windfall."

Asking Sinclair not to mention this to Jack would just give him more leverage over her. But she takes comfort that he doesn't seem to want to do so. Not if he needs Jack on his side.

He smiles at her, relieved. "You won't be disappointed, Doctor. I'm not eager to see your girls starve. Please, have a seat. Would you like more coffee?"

"I would rather something to eat," she says. You know, while they're here and she has a feeling he can't say no. "We will call it an advance. And a little fresh water, if you have it."

No, she's not milking their deal at all, why do you ask?

No of course not, that would be a ridiculous assumption. But his smile widens just a little, half glad she's taking him up on it and half amused.

"Certainly," he says. "If you'll give me just one minute, I can bring you a sandwich?" Unless she's got something else in mind. He knows if it were him, he wouldn't be above asking something to be cooked. But if that's what she wants then of course he won't turn her down.

"That will do very well." Hey, sandwiches are faster to prepare than a cooked meal, and it's not like she's accustomed to three-course roast dinners.

She sits primly back down, swallowing her doubt and pretending to be better at this negotiation stuff than she actually is. Sinclair's not above scrounging a hot pie, and Tenenbaum's not above employing what she's learned from watching cold-as-ice businessmen. Wouldn't be the worst thing either of them has done.

On the other hand, Sinclair actually is a businessman and a very good one. So her discomfort is probably still visible in her hands, laid together on the tabletop, and in the stiffness of her shoulders.

Sinclair returns shortly with Tenenbaum's requests and sets them down on the table before her.

"It's funny, I only just went to the market and I'm already approaching a low water mark. Kid eats like a horse, I swear."

"I am afraid yes," she says, picking up the glass of water with what she's sure is an heroic effort of restraint. Which is to say she just sips it and does not guzzle the whole thing down in one. She's not dying of thirst per se but she never has quite enough to feel comfortable, not with a couple dozen thirsty girls.

"There was a chance his metabolism, it would become stable after the growth, but this was never certain."

There, she's holding up her side of the bargain. With a certain note in her voice that suggests she wishes nothing were the way it was -- but when does she ever not sound like that, really?

After the growth? The growth of what? Of something in Jack? Or...

Sinclair drowns his questions in his coffee cup, not setting it down again until he's got a better plan of action than to just word vomit whatever comes into his head.

"How long did the growth take?"

"Three years." More water, as if it can wash away the taste of the words. Her voice takes on a scornful tone: "It was quite the long con."

It's not the hardest thing he could ask, at least. The actual timespan of what they did is just peanuts next to the horror of the details he already has.

He nods as if he understands.

"That's a good bit of dedication," he says. "How did you manage it? I can't say I've seen anything like it before."

An incredulous laugh here, to add to the effect. Because he totally knows what she's talking about.

Yeah, laugh it up, asshole. They all get a wrench to the face sooner or later.

"Of course you have not. I doubt it would be possible without ADAM, and without Rapture's disregard for ethics."

But, fine, he asked a question and she's agreed to answer.

"It was done with many plasmids, designed for this purpose. Suchong, every day he would be coming to me with his ideas for new ways to customise the child. How we might strengthen his muscle, or give him habits." She says it all in a dull monotone, a tone of faint disgust. "And Fontaine, of course, had suggestions always."

"Of course," Sinclair says, shaking his head. "He always did."

Meanwhile behind Sinclair's easy pokerface, Jack is...literally the science experiment he said he was. In WAY more ways than Sinclair ever even began to think. He'd seen Fontaine's picture on the board, but from the sounds of it, he funded all of this. Which means if he wasn't Ryan's project, he was Fontaine's.

Three years though. Jack must be...god, how old does that make him then?

"Which parts were his ideas?"

The sandwich is right there in front of her, but Tenenbaum is no longer sure how much of an appetite she can manage while they're talking about this stuff.

"The child's memories, some of his triggers."

--Which, shit, does he know about the triggers beyond the WYK? That was one thing, a pretty identifiable phrase that Fontaine must have used a good few times, but she'd be impressed if Ryan had figured out any of the others. And she somehow doubts Jack opened up about Code Yellow.

"The would-you-kindly, it was not the only one, but I do not think you need a list."

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