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[serialskiller]

Messages will be answered when I'm done with this episode of my serial.

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[decrypter]

Hearing that, her expression shifts to a smile - a tiny one, but a real one, not made from politeness or to make someone else at ease. Just a little thing as her chest aches in a certain way.

"Then please, trust that I'll tell you if I'm not comfortable?" It doesn't have to mine her reactions for the truth. It can just have it outright.

[serialskiller]

It brushes its fingertips over the palm of her hand, before quietly shifting to holding it again. "Okay. I will."

[decrypter]

"Thank you."

Very, very gently, she squeezes its hand.

"And I'll trust that you'll do the same, if you're uncomfortable."

This goes two ways, Security. The very last thing she wants is it to feel like it needs to bottle up discomfort, if they're trying to figure this out together.

[serialskiller]

"I will. Uncomfortable, overwhelmed. I'll let you know."

And it just. Just holds for now. Lets this be enough for its fluttering circulatory pump.

march.

[decrypter]

It's a quiet afternoon, after Security's well again, and Helena still hasn't moved out because Crabb's problem remains ongoing. The complete absence of Friday is part of this, as is the rifts in reality, but also Helena isn't entirely complaining about the new status quo, figuring it will get resolved when it gets resolved. It means that taking up a position on the couch isn't unusual, and when she speaks, it's soft, trying not to be jarring and break the mood of the day.

"Can I ask you about something? And will you be completely honest with me if I do?"

She knows Security doesn't have a reason to lie. But it's important to ask, and she has to ask it before she can ask someone else.

[serialskiller]

“Yes. And yes. But you knew that, so you’re asking as a way to underscore that you’re nervous about this.” The sound of its paintbrush sweeping across the paper stops entirely. Oddly, there’s no Bob Ross in the background today.

[decrypter]

"The reassurance is appreciated."

Her nerves aren't going to get better than this, so she has to just say it, since it isn't going to get easier the more she thinks about it. The more the words are shaped, they still don't lose their difficulty. But...

"...If someone lied to you, about something important, but they didn't want to do so, and they were really and truly sorry about it...what would you think of them?"

She's going somewhere with this.

[serialskiller]

"I don't like hypotheticals. Tell me what you need to tell me, Hela."

Is that the first time it's used that nickname that it tagged her in its internal filing system with months ago, aloud? Quite possibly.

[decrypter]

There's a pause there, and she's very grateful she can't see its face, or even be tempted to look its direction. She has to bend her head, feeling a mix of emotions rise in her, before she can continue on. That's not fair. That's really not fair, when she's already this nervous, to send emotions that shake up her mind.

"I'm afraid I have to talk in hypotheticals. Because something like that happened, but also did not. And I'm trying to decide how to feel about it."

She doesn't have to. She's just being stubborn about it.

[serialskiller]

"Something in a memory, one of the ones where things changed?"

The sound of the paintbrush begins again. It's not looking at her either, in this moment, and it's letting her know that in a subtle way.

[decrypter]

"...The changed memory is the version I prefer. Where it didn't happen."

Where someone stopped it, before it happened. If Security isn't looking at her, she can talk.

"Suffice it to say, given a path where it didn't occur...it raises questions. Ones revolving around if it could have been avoided, if someone had been...less doubtful."

[serialskiller]

"You didn't have the advantage of outside perspective, in the original timeline. And you're not the only person who's been grappling with questions like that. We've all been exposed to a sea of what-ifs, and the more we all dive into one another's memories, the more of that we're going to be up against. Chances to see what else might have been."

It's speaking down at the paper, more than at her.

"I don't think it's a bad thing, inherently, to be able to see the other paths in life, the ones that weren't taken. But I think dwelling on them isn't going to be good for anyone. They're world-states that could not have been, if not for the alien presence shifting them."

[decrypter]

"Even if what could not have been is you being a better person?"

It comes out, sharp as needles, but all directed inward. Each syllable a pin stuck into Helena's own skin, and then she pauses, breathes.

"...Sorry. I didn't mean it quite like that. It just makes me wonder what would have happened."

[serialskiller]

“It makes you beat yourself up for having been unable to reach that path on your own in your original timeline, is what you mean. Do you think I don’t see you wrestling with yourself?”

Tsk. Busted, Hela…

[decrypter]

"Should I not hold myself to a higher standard than lying to people?"

If, if, if. If she had said something, if she had been more stubborn, less pliant, less eager to please. If she had begged her father to send that woman away, or at least talk to her. If she had opened her mouth and ruined everything publicly and stopped caring about what people thought, what was "good" behavior.

Helena takes a breath, deflates. It's not being infected with malicious code and sent to mass kill at a mining installation, but it's the thing she'll blame herself for, even more than all the times she can't save people. And so it runs out of her, because she needs Security to understand that she's not asking to be excused.

"...She persuaded me to do it. When you weren't there. The creative writing...about things that never happened. She brought them to people, and they believed that it was all true. Said it would make them happier if I played along." If she lied about herself, about her upbringing, about what her teacher had done for her.

"I shouldn't have."

Because it just got bigger, and bigger. More complicated, until the only way out was to try to flee.

[serialskiller]

It exhales heavily. “Helena. Hela. Listen to me. Someone in a position of power over you used your eagerness to make people happy to twist you to her own ends. I know you’re boiling yourself in guilt here, but. This is someone else’s wrongdoing. Crime, sin, both words fit poorly in my head here, but it’s her fuck-up, her deliberate choice to manipulate you. You never knew what you did not know.”

[decrypter]

There are far more vicious words that want to leap out of her throat, ugly and twisted ones, and she makes herself swallow them down, hands gripping her hair and breathing. Instead of being able to speak, her lips form words silently, trying once, twice. It's not easy. It's not that simple. And some part of her knows what happened, wants to throw all the blame on someone else, but she can't. She can't. She agreed to it, when there were so many chances to reject it.

When she does manage to speak, her voice is weak.

"...She's not a bad person, Security. She taught me so much. I don't hate her. I can't."

It's impossible to reconcile the kind, gentle figure who taught her how to read and write with someone who'd deliberately hurt her.

[serialskiller]

“I can’t allow you to turn that hate around on yourself instead. That’s what you’ve been doing, and that’s fucked up to have to sit here and watch,” says the ship’s biggest hypocrite.

[decrypter]

She knows, but calling Security on it right now is terribly unkind, and that would also require processing that information deeper than what's needed right now to not have a human version of a shutdown. She has to be upset at something, and it can't be her teacher, for reasons she explained. And if it can't be herself, what can she be upset at?

The grip on her hair just gets tighter, until she breathes out again in a very shaky and deliberate exhale.

"...what do I do, then?"

This emotion, and not a single place to put it other than at herself, in the same drawer it's lived in. This thing that feels like sickness and anger, but isn't, when she'd been ignoring it and ignoring it and then wondering if she cracked open that drawer, could she face her fears of being called a liar for it. Oh, she hates it, hates that she said it in the first place.

[serialskiller]

“Practical advice, emotional reassurance, or physical contact? What will help you the most right now?” It can do multiple at once, but it wants to be sure it’s delivering what she needs most.

Because damned if it doesn’t just want to swoop in and scoop her up and try to squeeze the hate out of her. But like. That’s not going to work, is it?

[decrypter]

"The first. And...the third, if you don't mind."

It is offering, but she always wants to check. Touch is a choice, not an expectation. And advice is needed, because her emotions are going to want to gnaw at her. They don't need reassuring, they need to be quiet.

[serialskiller]

"Let me move my painting supplies. I'll let you know when to come over here." You know, pushing the water cup further back on the nightstand and moving the paper to where it can dry. "As for practical, I think you should talk to someone who is an expert on lies. You are holding yourself to a higher standard, and that's hurting you as much as the fact that you can't just get rid of the hate."

[decrypter]

"I don't know if I know anyone like that."

But she's not rejecting the advice, far from it. Who would be an expert, and more than that, who could she trust with something this close to her? Hard enough to say it to Security, who's lived with her.

[serialskiller]

"I recommend Peter Smith, who worked in the field of espionage for years--and who is one of the most open and honest people on the ship now. If anyone can tell you if the lies you told are worthy of complete condemnation, he will."

And if she tells him that Security sent her, he'll probably read properly into the situation.

"Alright, you can come over to the bed and be held now."

[decrypter]

Later, when her brain isn't wanting to turn itself inside out, she'll know she has two other people to talk to about this. Mr. Smith, who she'll need to brace herself for courage to speak with, and Erin, who she already knows may remember part of it. But Mr. Smith is more likely not to argue in her favor if that's really so, not to give her false hope in herself, lacking the bias that close friends contain.

Finally she lets go of her hair and shuffles up from the couch, setting herself on the bed a little heavily.

"Sorry if it seems that this came out of nowhere at all."

It's hard to not fully apologize for bringing something unpleasant up, but she's biting the apology in half as it is. Under it is the real meaning - thank you for letting me talk.