Zouichi hasn't really experienced fear since his early childhood, after which a combination of mental conditioning and matured brain chemistry have left him dulled to feelings of fear and pain. Since then, he's looked back on his early years with a sense of curious detachment; he can remember what it felt like to be afraid, but when he tries to summon up the feeling once more, remembering the things that had inspired the emotion in the first place, he finds he cannot
( ... )
"Yeah. I figured." He doesn't say that with any condescension - as much as he hates being as fearful as he is all the time, he also knows that it's equipped him with better coping mechanisms to keep fear at bay. In a weird way, in this moment, cowardliness has made him much luckier than Zouichi. "How long?"
"Since I was a child." Well, his body was never really that of a child, but his mind had been, when he was still in the Shikiomi.
"That was a long time ago, for me. I... it happens when we're young, like anyone else. But only when we're very young. It doesn't... it's not supposed to happen. To adults. I couldn't even remember what it was like. I could remember that I was afraid, but..."
Zouichi shrugs, helplessly. "It's like remembering something stupid you did when you were little. You don't really understand why you did it, just that it happened."
It's weird to think of Zouichi being a child. In a way, it seems like he's a person who's shed most aspects of childhood, with only the occasional glimmer coming through in his pride and affection for Alan Turing or the kneejerk defensiveness towards Fuyu.
Howard nods. "So you're totally unprepared to deal with it. It's like a sledgehammer to you. It's almost like a whole new emotion."
Something about the placating nature of Howard's tone makes him recoil inwardly, as if stung.
"Don't talk to me like that," he grinds out. "I don't need your pity. It's not an emotion. I don't feel afraid -- I just am. It's not me; it's not a part of me."
Zouichi has been incapacitated before. But before, he could always crawl off somewhere, regroup alone until he was well enough to stand up again and fight. And now, when there's nothing even really wrong with him, here he is, on display for anyone who want to poke their head in and see the malfunctioning Synthetic Human. All he really wants to do is tear this traitorous feeling from himself, excise it as he would a piece of shrapnel or a splinter of glass... but he can't.
He wants to tell Howard to just back the hell off and leave him alone, except that would make him irrational and a coward.
"Oh, whatever, Zou. This isn't pity. You're having a bad day and you'll get over it." As much as anyone ever gets over fear, but Howard trusts that given a few days and some space, Zouichi can put the shame behind him along with the fear.
If Zouichi doesn't want sensitivity, Howard can go back to their usual rhythm, their strange cocktail of banter and curiosity and only putting up with so much from each other. He prefers that, actually. "I save pity for situations that actually deserve it. Drink your coffee."
"If it's not pity, what is it?" Zouichi realizes he's gripping the cup a little too hard; he forces himself to loosen his hold before he has to apologize for breaking someone's favorite coffee mug.
"You know that my system is going to neutralize this, whether they find an antidote or not. Why are you trying to help me?" That's actually a pretty valid question, considering he's not even sure Howard considers him a friend. In fact, he's not sure Howard considers anyone (save Orc, perhaps) a friend.
"Geez, Zou." Howard looks a bit taken aback, because he doesn't quite have an answer. "What, you think I'm mocking you or something? You think I like seeing you like this?"
Given everything, he's started to consider Zouichi a friend. He recognizes that he actually cares about Zouichi's well-being at this point. But he's still not sure what words to put to it - 'friend' still feels like such a commitment - so the most he can conclude is that he cares.
Zouichi looks up at him for the first time during their conversation -- briefly, before he drops his eyes again, staring at the floor. "...no, you're right. I'm just... not used to people helping."
This time he actually does obey Howard, taking another sip of the coffee and grimacing slightly; how do people drink this stuff?
It still feels like he's not in full control of his body; his heart beats in a manner that is somehow both jackrabbit-fast and leaden in his chest, but it's... better.
"Usually you've got it pretty together. Nobody needs to." He's still sure that given time, Zouichi's wounded ego will be fine. In a strange way, as much as he'd rather Zouichi be fine, Howard thinks it might be a good thing for them that Zouichi has this moment. It makes their friendship just a little bit more reciprocal.
Zouichi laughs a little, shakily. "Yes, of course. I have to. I couldn't do my job if I were falling apart mid-mission. Billions of R&D dollars, down the drain."
And hundreds of people and/or zombies, un-dispatched.
He's not quite sure how to feel about kinder, gentler Howard, but he's edging past the point of caring at this point. Maybe it's the coffee. Later he'll wonder if Howard dosed him.
"I know. And how would Spacey Stacy get along without you doing all her dirty work? She'd have to tap into her reserves of podded Supermans and Terminators." Funny, how Zouichi still talks about the research and development that went into him even though that world, and its purpose, and its missions, are all gone, possibly forever. It's a bit unsettling.
"Seriously, did you see how much pain the liquid guy in T2 took? Not to mention the chick in the third one. Sorry, man, I think Terminator's got you beat." He laughs for a second, then gets serious. "No, man. I know. You do it for you. I told you you have high standards for yourself."
"No. It's not for me." Had he killed those people for himself? Tracked Eon Green across mile after mile, destroying everything in his way for himself? No.
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"I haven't felt this in a long time," he offers, finally.
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"That was a long time ago, for me. I... it happens when we're young, like anyone else. But only when we're very young. It doesn't... it's not supposed to happen. To adults. I couldn't even remember what it was like. I could remember that I was afraid, but..."
Zouichi shrugs, helplessly. "It's like remembering something stupid you did when you were little. You don't really understand why you did it, just that it happened."
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Howard nods. "So you're totally unprepared to deal with it. It's like a sledgehammer to you. It's almost like a whole new emotion."
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"Don't talk to me like that," he grinds out. "I don't need your pity. It's not an emotion. I don't feel afraid -- I just am. It's not me; it's not a part of me."
Zouichi has been incapacitated before. But before, he could always crawl off somewhere, regroup alone until he was well enough to stand up again and fight. And now, when there's nothing even really wrong with him, here he is, on display for anyone who want to poke their head in and see the malfunctioning Synthetic Human. All he really wants to do is tear this traitorous feeling from himself, excise it as he would a piece of shrapnel or a splinter of glass... but he can't.
He wants to tell Howard to just back the hell off and leave him alone, except that would make him irrational and a coward.
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If Zouichi doesn't want sensitivity, Howard can go back to their usual rhythm, their strange cocktail of banter and curiosity and only putting up with so much from each other. He prefers that, actually. "I save pity for situations that actually deserve it. Drink your coffee."
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"You know that my system is going to neutralize this, whether they find an antidote or not. Why are you trying to help me?" That's actually a pretty valid question, considering he's not even sure Howard considers him a friend. In fact, he's not sure Howard considers anyone (save Orc, perhaps) a friend.
So. Why?
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Given everything, he's started to consider Zouichi a friend. He recognizes that he actually cares about Zouichi's well-being at this point. But he's still not sure what words to put to it - 'friend' still feels like such a commitment - so the most he can conclude is that he cares.
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This time he actually does obey Howard, taking another sip of the coffee and grimacing slightly; how do people drink this stuff?
It still feels like he's not in full control of his body; his heart beats in a manner that is somehow both jackrabbit-fast and leaden in his chest, but it's... better.
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And hundreds of people and/or zombies, un-dispatched.
He's not quite sure how to feel about kinder, gentler Howard, but he's edging past the point of caring at this point. Maybe it's the coffee. Later he'll wonder if Howard dosed him.
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Well, he didn't have a weakness to kryptonite, either. "Anyway, I don't do it for the ship."
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"No. It's not for me." Had he killed those people for himself? Tracked Eon Green across mile after mile, destroying everything in his way for himself? No.
"I'm not important. The mission is."
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