Liberty or Possessions Chapter 15 In This Twilight
Liberty or Possessions Chapter 15
In This Twilight
Chapter 15 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADsQxML3kP4
Warnings: (Minor) Character Deaths, Gore, Language, Mentions of: Drug Use
There were still people in Stockholm, though not a substantial amount. There had been people indoors, in theaters, in offices, in parking garages, and they had been spared the gruesome death of their fellow civilians, and yet still felt the effects. It seemed almost like everyone had lost a part of himself or herself in the attack, a part that gave them aim and purpose. They wander lost down the streets, cars abandoned once they realized that they could not go anywhere in them without eventually finding corpses in their way. Instead they flocked from their dark, windowless safety to the streets, attempting to decipher what had happened. Many did not care about the cause, it seemed, as they shuffled in the dirt. They did not even seem to mind the heat of the post-midday sun burning up the atmosphere as they turned over bodies, attempting to find those that they looked for. Some bodies turned to dust as they were handled, decomposing faster than was logical, leaving piles of soot that would never be identified-- Leaving people that would never know if their loved ones were dead or not.
Oliver watched them shamble about, corpse to corpse, from his perch just inside the door of a store. They looked like zombies, he thought, with dead eyes that scanned slowly and deliberately, and they were intriguing so long as they kept their distance. The civilians did keep their distance since the store Oliver and Mikkel stood in appeared to have no corpses surrounding it. It was for the best because Mikkel had been busy. He had broken into the store and turned on a TV, flipping furiously to find a station still broadcasting. He wanted to see the news to find out what the Government was saying about the attack. At least, if the Government had not released any sort of statement, he could find out what the news crews said about it.
Oliver pointedly had not been watching, eyes on the door in what almost could have been described as weary wonderment, but when Mikkel found a channel, Oliver turned to him suddenly.
"They look broken," He said, and it did not come out sad. Oliver, for some reason, seemed to lack any emotion in his tone, which Mikkel picked up on right away.
"They're just confused. Most people are spoon-fed, are used to the same thing day in and day out. Usually they have the Government telling them that everything will be okay, soldiers directing them to where they should be. Right now, they're adrift, and free will is a scary thing when it's been a long time since you've felt it." Mikkel gestured to the TV as he finished speaking, directing Oliver's attention to it. Oliver seemed lost as well, Mikkel thought. He seemed disassociated from everything except from direct stimuli, and it was something he knew he should have worried about. It had not been that long since he had broken Oliver out of that base, not horribly long since he had had the drugs pushed into his system, so they were probably still working. Mikkel could not honestly remember his own initial transformation from civilian to soldier because there had been walls that the Government had built in his mind. He had been made to forget all about it in order to protect the Government from him, and so they were solid and would not easily fall. He assumed Oliver felt the same.
The television screen held a young woman, blonde, pretty, but she looked distressed. There had not been a chance for ad-libbing in a long time in her profession, so her words came jumbled, slow, and stuttering. There had been an attack, one that they knew little about. No one seemed to have seen anything, or at least no one still alive, and that gave credit to Mikkel's theory. The newscaster did not have much to go on, so she simply repeated things over and over. There was an attack, though no one knew what it was. There had been an attack, may god and the Government help them.
Mikkel shifted his view to Oliver, observing the younger man. He had seemed wiling to die, to stand along Mikkel and face the terrible end regardless of how it came, but courage like that, when mixed with time, often destroyed itself. There was still time, Mikkel knew. He could still find that deep underground bunker to throw Oliver in until it all blew past, but the younger man did not look scared in the least. His braveness had shifted to something else, but it seemed not to have fallen apart. Oliver watched the television, watched the woman fight to do her job without a rigid script to follow as terror grasped her heart and held it tight. Oliver watched but did not empathetically take on her nervousness as Mikkel had come to expect. Instead he stood straight, eyes narrowed slightly, and lips drawn in a tight line. He did not appear mad, but calculating. He appeared as a soldier would appear given the crisis, not as a young man very far from home would.
"Something isn't right in the Government," Mikkel said slowly, judging Oliver's face as he digested that information. His features did not shift as he thought about Mikkel's words, mind formulating a response to them. Mikkel almost felt like he could see the gears, the cogs turning others as he mulled over the words and all the information around him.
"They would have already had something for the anchors to read if there was not something wrong, would they not have?" He asked, and Mikkel fought back the frown on his own face. Oliver slowly shifted his gaze to him, and Mikkel saw what he feared. There was no glow in his eyes, nor any curiosity or fear that had been there the whole time. Actually there was nothing in Oliver's eyes at all. He simply looked and took in information, letting none out unwillingly. Mikkel's hand twitched to his gun, instinct rather than a conscious choice. Oliver was a soldier, or at least damn close to one, and therefore would need to be put down. However, Mikkel stilled his hand as rational thought about the situation took over. It was just a phase, he thought, one that would pass as the drugs got out of Oliver’s system. It would take Oliver longer to get over the effects since he had not built up a tolerance, would take him longer to have passed the Parepin, the Prozira, and the Opal from his body than it would have for Mikkel. He would just need to be watched until then. Maybe, he thought, the Presence would get them before Oliver would have to feel the soul-crushing weight of detox.
"Yeah, they would already have a cover story, even if they have no idea what's going on. The fact that they don't means that they're in disarray. It means that the Presence did some damn good for once." Mikkel's hand moved from his gun to his hip, eyes purposefully detaching from their watchful gaze at Oliver's face to scan the store. There would be nothing that they would need, nothing that they could use on their final day, but it was better than staring at Oliver and wondering about him.
"They killed civilians too," Oliver commented back, but there was no ire in it. It was simply fact, monotone and wholly unlike him. Mikkel's hand twitched again toward his pistol, but he willed it back. It would pass, Mikkel reminded himself. It would pass eventually.
"They already told us they would kill indiscriminately, and these people did not listen. You can feel bad for them, Oliver, but you cannot really fault the Presence for that. At least they got the warning, unlike we did when America stormed in and started killing people. At least they had a chance for salvation." Mikkel had turned again, watching the back of Oliver's head as he spoke to him. He had not wanted to turn, but something told him to, something told him to watch the younger man and see what he did. Mikkel did not know if it was his own paranoia or the Presence that demand he do so, but he was glad he had. Oliver slowly looked over his shoulder and back at Mikkel. His eyes were red-rimmed, darker, completely different than they had been only moments before, and yet strangely similar. It was the peak of the drugs, Mikkel reasoned. It would be all down hill from there, but as he looked at the younger man stare back at him, he noticed something. Where he had thought there was nothing there but the effects of the soldier education, the drugs burying Oliver so deep that he would never come out, there was a glimpse of him. There was regret there, solicitude even, and it was entirely unfamiliar to Mikkel. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone with a look of compassion, and even longer since he had seen that look directed toward himself. Oliver was still under there somewhere, Mikkel knew for certain, just trying to keep his head above the water.
"We should go before they get reorganized," Oliver said in that slow and monotone way that put Mikkel on edge, but he knew Oliver was right. He was functioning like a soldier, functioning with reason instead of emotion, and for right then, Mikkel could use that. He needed someone with a level head by his side, and though he wished that Oliver had never had to feel the drugs, he was willing to let it work for him.
"Come on then," Mikkel told him, and lead Oliver out onto the streets once more.
Oliver had been animate previously about dying along side Mikkel, had thought that that would have been the just thing to do, but with his sudden transformation into the soldier once more, exactly as he had when Sinclair held a gun to his head, Mikkel could not be sure if that really had been his choice at all. So, as they moved down the streets, Mikkel kept his eyes open for somewhere that Oliver could possibly survive the Presence's eradication of humanity.
Stockholm had basements, had subbasements, and it did have a few bomb shelters that Mikkel knew of. Still, the safest place he could think of was the Molious base, the Founder's base specifically, and unless he could locate another spot with less dead and decaying corpses in it, and less chance of strife between civilians as a bomb shelter would hold, he would shove Oliver down there and find a way to keep him inside. Mikkel knew he had no right to force the younger man to die at his side, and no right to even accept Oliver's decision because it was ill informed and down right suicidal. Oliver did not deserve that, and his allegiance to Mikkel was woefully misplaced. Sure, Mikkel had saved him, saved him a few times, but he never would have done so without the pushes from Maria and the Presence. He never would have stuck his neck out for the kid if he had not been forced to, and because of that he felt bad for Oliver to want to die by his side. Still he said nothing, not entirely sure how the soldier version of Oliver would react to that information, to Mikkel’s hesitation. Things could have gotten confused in Oliver’s mind, and he could think Mikkel a threat and kill him. He also could possibly snap out of his sudden emotionless state with the sadness he would feel over Mikkel not considering him a friend, just a mission. However it was not something he was willing to chance. Oliver was broken, and until he repaired himself, there would be no point in pilling more things onto his shoulders.
Mikkel wanted to concentrate on something other than Oliver, so he made a point to pay more attention to his surroundings. He looked at the buildings, looked at the dead and living civilians, and watched the way a slight breeze blew the dirt around the streets. He watched his world die and he wondered if anyone knew it was their last day. Eventually Mikkel looked to the sky, to where the sun lit up the pollution and cast an orange glow over everything. It had been blue once, he vaguely remembered. It had been clean with white clouds once, but that was so far away, and more of a dream than an actual memory. There had been a time, he thought, when they could actually see the sun rise and set on the horizons.
The sun, Mikkel thought, had been in the sky for a long time. Not in eons or any extension past his own life, but on that day. It had been in the sky for a long time, longer than that time a year would have allowed it, and showed no signs of getting closer to the horizon. It seemed to know that when it set, when it stopped lighting up their part of the world that the purge would begin. It wanted to buy them more time, wanted them to figure out some way to stop it all, some way to save them, but time was finite, even if the sun dragged it out hours longer than normal. Right then, Mikkel reasoned, there were parts of the world shrouded in darkness. He thought about them, the countries, occupied lands that were in the inky blackness of night. He wondered if the Presence had already started with them, had already begun picking off people in the darkness. Australia would have been devoid of life, he reasoned. A portion of Asia decimated for their crimes against the Earth. He wondered if the sun had bought them more time as well, or if it had just passed them over as normal.
"I need to know what to do," Mikkel spoke quietly. It should have been internalized, he knew, but he wanted to ask everything. He wanted to ask the sun, or the Presence, or even himself, what he needed to do right then, because he was at a total loss.
"We need to get to higher ground," Oliver said suddenly, and Mikkel had almost forgotten that he was there. He had been so quiet, so still even as they moved. He had always had Oliver's awkward fumbling, nervous need to talk, to remind him that he was there, but he had paced his foot steps with Mikkel's and had almost fallen off of the older man's radar entirely. Of course when he spoke Mikkel felt foolish for not remembering he was there and slowed, turning to look at Oliver. Easily the younger man met his gaze, eyes still shadowed and not entirely his own. He was in there, Mikkel remembered, but he was under. He was under the drugs. However, something caught in Oliver's eyes, something that stuck there for several seconds, almost taunting Mikkel to figure out what it was. When he did, his face fell heavily into a frown.
"How long have you been in there?" He asked, solemn and not just a little pissed. Oliver did not smile; just kept the same steady gaze he had held for some time now.
"Since you freed him. We tried to leave him on his own, but it had become obvious to us that he could not be. He was breaking, and that would not work for us. We did not crush the boy, but humanity did, which just further shows how uncontrollable you are. One chance for salvation and you almost kill it. We hope you understand we are saving you from yourselves." The words were spoken in Oliver's voice, leaving Oliver's mouth that formed the sounds easily, but they were not his own. They were the Presence's words coming from Oliver, their savior it seemed.
“There’s no way in hell you were there the whole time,” Mikkel said defiantly, furious at the Presence’s seeming accusation toward his version of saving Oliver. “He was himself, not this strange pseudo-person you are.”
“But he was not always himself, was he, Mikkel Boedker?” There was no quip in the tone of the response, no hidden amusement to indicate that the Presence was having fun with him. Mikkel thought back, thought back to instances where Oliver may not have been quite himself since being broken out of the soldier education. One stuck firmly in his mind and made Mikkel frown heavily.
“Sinclair…” He began, a hint of a question in his tone, which was confirmed by a stiff nod of Oliver’s head. “That wasn’t the drugs, was it?”
“That was a gift, one anticipated by us. Of course we did not mean for Oliver Ekman-Larsson to be so close to it, the darkness in you, but it worked to your advantage, did it not? You received the greatest vengeance you could want on the man you blame for all of your suffering.” Mikkel frowned heavily at the almost whimsical nature in which the presence relayed that information. It was not a change in tone that made Mikkel think that they were very happy that Mikkel had killed Sinclair and received some ounce of peace from it, but more of a feeling. He narrowed his gaze at Oliver.
“And there were more times?” Again Oliver nodded in response.
“Several. Any time we felt he was slipping away, any time he seemed to lose conviction about his mission or you, we needed to step in. If there was another way, Mikkel Boedker, I assure you, we would have done it. Unfortunately, there was none.”
"Fine. Fine, we’ll play with your mystic crap on that front, but I went and got him. I went and just like I promised. I got him out of that shit hole, got him away from the Government's needles and probing. So I think it's about time you tell me what it's all for. I think you should tell me exactly why you need him." Mikkel was pissed, tone attempting to stay level but failing to do so entirely. He wanted the Presence to know that he was mad, but he doubted that he would need to scream in order to get that across.
At first no response came from Oliver. It seemed as if the Presence inside the younger man was thinking, but Mikkel had a feeling that that was not the case. It knew how to answer the question, it knew it would answer the question, but it searched for something. It searched for something to calm Mikkel, and it found it when it made Oliver slowly smile.
"We need him to save humanity," The Presence told him, Oliver's smile there but it felt fake to Mikkel. It was like a puppet smiling, the body not actually feeling the emotion and yet trying to make others feel it. Mikkel did not fall for the show, narrowing his eyes as his hand slipped to his side arm. He would use Oliver as a hostage if the Presence did not give him a straight answer for once. Slowly Oliver's smile folded down into a frown, eyes hard as they looked at Mikkel.
"We are giving you the illusion of free will, Mikkel Boedker, and we request you do not abuse it. If we need to, we will destroy you, though we would like it not to come to that." Mikkel had no problem remembering that the Presence had taken over him as well, and he had no doubt that they would make good on that threat if Oliver meant so much to them.
"Then please just answer my question and tell me exactly what you need him for. No smoke and mirrors, no more mystic crap. Just tell me plain and simple, or I will make you destroy me. Remember, I'm not afraid to die." The Presence, for once, seemed not to have an immediate response. The frown on Oliver's face stayed deep, but his eyes appeared searching, wondering what Mikkel wanted to hear. They could just read his mind, Mikkel reasoned, but he figured they were quite busy with other things as well, like destroying all of humanity for instance.
"I promise you that we require him to save humanity."
"Humanity that you've already killed ninety-percent of?" Mikkel asked audaciously, voice finally rising in volume as he screamed at Oliver's form. He did not recoil, did not advert his eyes, as Mikkel knew Oliver would have. Instead he kept the same dead-eyed stare directly on Mikkel.
"We have only eliminated point-zero-zero-zero-zero-three-percent of humanity, Mikkel Boedker, across every universe. We have only eliminated those beyond repair, those that have failed to coexist with not only each other, but with every other living thing in their particular universe." Mikkel's anger fell into confusion, unsure if his mind had just translated it wrong, or if the Presence really made no sense. If the Presence had only killed people in and around Stockholm, then Mikkel could reason that they may have only killed a small portion of humanity, but they seemed to be an all or nothing deal. They seemed not to be the type of entity to just pick and chose their targets, especially after the general warning it had sent out. It had inferred more humans, more than were just on Earth at that moment, and Mikkel pondered on that as the Presence continued to speak. "Every time we make one, one that would go and offer survival to another universe, one that sits upon the brink. We have made millions, and Oliver Ekman-Larsson had been chosen as one. Oliver Ekman-Larsson will attempt to succeed where the one in your universe has failed, and that is why we need him. We need him to show others the selfish suicide of humanity in another time and place, one that has yet to cross the threshold as your humanity has." Mikkel could only stare at the face of Oliver, the one that held the Presence just below the surface. Oliver was not their weapon, was not their end game move. He was not even the savior of humanity in Mikkel's world. What he was was a prophet for another: another time and universe where humanity pushed against the edges of extinction.
"He… he's going to be your first warning?" Mikkel asked slowly, not entirely grasping the Presence's plan, but not entirely missing it either. Slowly Oliver nodded, though his eyes never left Mikkel's face. The older man shifted, hand going to his hip, though not for his gun, as he ran his other hand down his face, scratching across his long ignored beard. He looked around, looked at the bodies of the dead, and the equally distant living. He watched the destruction, and it all came into place.
"You do not all die, Mikkel Boedker. You do not all get slaughtered and forgotten as you so thought. Some of you, a few of you, get to live on and continue to try and complete your mission of salvation, but in a new vessel. You were chosen to be one of those, the other half of this one, because of your strength and compassion. You were chosen because there was already a connection from him, and though you could not feel it, there had been a connection from you since the first time he spoke your name. You wanted to save the world, Mikkel Boedker, and though your mission has failed here, we offer you the chance to complete it in another universe." The Presence fell silent again, as if waiting for Mikkel's decision, but none came. Mikkel felt lost in thought, lost in everything he had been told. It seemed entirely insane, entirely beyond reason. Maybe, he thought, he had never woken up from the overdose after he had blown the ballpark. Maybe, he thought, he had never escaped from the Government those years prior, but he could feel the heat on his brow, could smell the dead Earth all around him. He could hear the sobs of the living, and that made him believe like he was still alive. Those made him feel like the Presence really meant it all.
"What should I do?" Mikkel asked slowly, cautiously. The Presence had let Oliver's face fall back to neutral, just watching, calculating, as Mikkel's reaction slowly panned out.
"If you wish to help, if you wish to save this boy and let him save others, then you will find higher ground and you will wait. If you wish to throw our gift back at us, then you will shoot the boy and doom others. We will give you your free will back, Mikkel Boedker, because we have faith. We have faith that humanity will, eventually, make the right decisions. We have faith that you, right now, will do the same." It was not Oliver that came back to him, no slow parting as the Presence left the situation. It would have been hard to shoot Oliver, Mikkel knew, if he was himself. It would have been a good play by the Presence to make him face that, knowing that he would not pull the trigger if Oliver were wholly himself. However, as the Presence had promised, there was no trick. Mikkel could shoot Oliver dead and the younger man would never have to feel it, never have to see it coming. Mikkel could kill him and feel no remorse because Oliver would never know he had done it, but yet he still could not. His hand stalled on the grip of his pistol, unable and unwilling to unholster it. There were several tense seconds as Mikkel stared into Oliver's eyes, stared into them as if he could see the Presence below them. Finally the moment broke, and Mikkel removed his hand from the pistol.
"Fine, higher ground. But… tell me, am I going to die when this is all done?" Oliver nodded slowly, face still neutral in expression. It was not Oliver, Mikkel reminded himself. It was merely a puppet. "And is Oliver going to die?" Again Oliver's head bobbed in the affirmative and Mikkel scoffed, turning away from the Presence in frustration. Oliver, their prophet, was going to die. That seemed unfair and even cruel, but Mikkel realized that the Presence had a plan, one that was precise and was going to be seen to completion.
"How the hell do you tell someone that by the end of the day they will be dead? How do you tell someone that they failed and that everyone will be dead because of them?" Mikkel wondered spitefully, hating the Presence for ever getting him involved. He would rather have died a free man, one that made his own decisions and found a bullet in his brain some day. He would have never have had to be mixed up in Oliver and whatever salvation crap the Presence had wanted from him.
"You will tell Oliver Ekman-Larsson nothing. At the point in which he must know, he will know." Mikkel could see something when he turned back to look at Oliver. The Presence was still there, still keeping Oliver's face unnervingly neutral, still keeping his eyes hard and direct, but there were tears. There were small drops that only wet Oliver's lashes and the bags under his eyes. They were the only sign that Oliver was still in there and that he still felt something. "He, nor you, have failed anything in this mission, Mikkel Boedker, and so long as you continue to listen, continue to not allow your negative emotions to rule over you, you will complete it and feel peace for the first time in your life." It felt like a tall prize, steep given all Mikkel had done to bring about the end of humanity. He would argue that point, however, when the Presence came to deliver it. He would animatedly deny the gift of peace, wanting only the crippling despair that the other's felt upon their death.
"Are you going to give him back to me now?" Mikkel asked slowly, gesturing to Oliver's body. The Presence smiled, a wide genuine smile that spread entirely across Oliver's face, even to his eyes that remained dark and deep.
"We shall, but he will be damaged. This is not our fault, nor his, but the fault of the others that did not redeem themselves. Be careful with him for in this state, while so close to fulfilling his own mission, he will be fragile." Mikkel nodded, a shallow bob of his head that was stiff and unsure. The Presence watched him for several seconds, tense ones that Mikkel felt growing impatience over. They had a deal, one Mikkel would stick by, apparently for Oliver's sake, and yet the Presence still hesitated. As frustration mounted, Mikkel opened his mouth to speak. However, before any words formed, Oliver blinked, and when his eyes opened, he was back.
The blink had forced the tears down Oliver's cheeks, and he simply stood, dumbfounded and staring at Mikkel. He shifted, took a step back, and fell. There had been a corpse behind Oliver, one that he tripped over as he moved, and when he fell he landed on more. Mikkel had not counted, had not wanted to know how many people had died on that spot, but Oliver had fallen on more than a few of them. They turned to dust as he hit them, pluming up in a cloud that drifted into the air and clung to Oliver. The younger man did not blink still as he stared at Mikkel, but he shook visibly.
"I…" Oliver began, but it had no follow up as his bottom lip quivered much like the rest of his form. He looked broken, just as the Presence had said he was, fragile and ready to shatter beyond repair at any second. Mikkel had thought he would know what to do, how to pull Oliver back together and get them on their way, but when faced with it, he realized he had no idea.
"Oliver," He started slowly, shifting closer before squatting down. Oliver did not move away, but his eyes showed rejection, showed vexation, and Mikkel, for a second, thought it was toward him. He thought that maybe the Presence had double-crossed him, had shown Oliver just how black his heart was, and had turned the younger man against him. Oliver's words, however, showed that the emotions were not toward Mikkel, but toward himself.
"They're... They're dead, Mikkel," Oliver said quietly, voice shaking just as his body did. "They're dead because… because I couldn't save them. They… they wanted me to save them and I couldn't, Mikkel." Oliver looked like a scared child and an utterly defeated man all at the same time. He felt as if he had failed the world, that he had failed himself and his loved ones, wherever they were. He spiraled down, wanted the darkness back, wanted to dip back into the black pool where he had felt safe, but Mikkel was there and had no intention of letting him feel any more false solace.
"Oliver, we need to go," He said quietly, reaching for the younger man. Oliver recoiled instantly, pulling back and away from Mikkel, kicking up more corpse dust as he did so. He rolled on his side, tucked himself as small as he could, and howled in fright and despair.
"I want to die!" He screamed, and Mikkel pulled back as well, shock on his features. He had not expected that, had not expected Oliver's complete disconnect from him, but he had also assumed it would not be that easy. Oliver was complex, different, and eternally frustrating compared to Mikkel, but in those moments, when Oliver howled to be left there to die, Mikkel knew the fondness he felt for the younger man was entirely his own.
"Oliver," He started again slowly, no annoyance in his tone. "You don't want to die." It was a fact, and it was simple. It was something small that Mikkel hoped Oliver would latch onto and know to be truth. The shaking of the young man settled a little, his fetal position protecting him from anything he deemed to be a threat.
"They're dead because I couldn't save them," Oliver said weakly several seconds later, and though Mikkel wanted to feel annoyed, wanted to feel like Oliver was acting like a child, he could still only feel fondness and a bit of pity.
"They're dead, Oliver, because they shouldn't have been saved." Mikkel let that sink into the younger man, watched his shaking still entirely and his head shift, eyes slowly, cautiously, finding Mikkel's. "You were never supposed to save them, Oliver." Mikkel continued still gently, just watching and no longer approaching the younger man.
"You don't know that," Oliver said defiantly, though still meekly, voice still tight and unsure. Mikkel felt himself smile, and it was not exactly right. It had been a long time since he had smiled, even longer since he had smiled fondly at someone, but despite the imperfections, it felt right. It felt reassuring and perfect to smile at Oliver.
"I do know that, Oliver. You know why?" Slowly Oliver shook his head, just a little, still guarded and removed. He did not know why, and Mikkel was not entirely sure he knew why either, but he thought he did, and it was still not the Presence that spoke out of his mouth, keeping its promise of free will. "I know that because they would have been too easy to save. All they would have needed was to hear you talk about the sky, about the oceans, about where you came from and they would have been saved by you. Instead they didn't want to listen to you. Instead the Government didn't want you to save them, and you had to save someone, so you decided to save the hardest person in the world to save." Oliver's brows creased as Mikkel spoke, not entirely sure what Mikkel was striving toward. He did not want to ask, so he simply stared at Mikkel until the man offered up the answer.
"You saved me, Oliver, and that means that you will never have to struggle saving anyone else ever again. No one, no one anywhere, will be as hard to save as I was." Oliver did not smile at the self-deprivation from Mikkel, did not uncurl himself and accept Mikkel's words as truth, but his eyes did lighten a bit. He was curious, he was in that moment with Mikkel, and the older man knew it was the moment where he could either save Oliver in return, or crush him. "If I hadn't been so stubborn, Oliver, you would have saved them. So, in return, let me save you." Carefully Mikkel stood and extended his hand out to Oliver.
There were several tense seconds where Oliver did not come out of his self-hatred, did not uncurl and accept Mikkel's help, but when he did, it was with a small smile on his face. Mikkel did not know what the Presence had told Oliver, did not know if it had gone entirely, but Oliver, the real Oliver, had accepted his proposition, and that was all Mikkel cared about. He took the younger man's hand and helped him to his feet, letting Oliver dust the corpses from his clothes for several moments of introspection, before gaining his attention once more.
"We don't have a lot of time left, Oliver," He said softly and Oliver looked up to meet his eyes. Carefully he stood more, extended himself to his full height and looked around, up and down the street.
"Where are we going?" He asked cautiously. Mikkel obviously had a plan, and though Oliver trusted him, he was unsure if he would follow him. Mikkel had been a mystery to him for the entirety of his time in that universe, and though the man promised to save him, Oliver still felt hesitant to allow him to.
"We're going to find a nice high roof, Oliver. And then we are going to watch the end." Oliver visibly relaxed, the tenseness leaking from his body. He had thought, had honestly believed that Mikkel would shove him in a bunker. That he would make Oliver survive, give anything to make sure that happened. He had been unsure if the older man understood the difference between survival and salvation, but he seemed to have gotten it, and Oliver was thankful.
"I realized, Oliver, that there is no sense in cowering. You and I don't do that, not anymore. We're going to stare death in the eye, Oliver, and tell him to go fuck himself." Slowly Oliver smiled wider, brighter, and nodded to Mikkel, though it never quite reached his eyes. That, Oliver knew, was exactly what he wanted, and though scared of it, he knew it was the best choice for him.
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 15 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADsQxML3kP4
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html
Chapter 16 Zero-Sum: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/20530.html
In This Twilight
Chapter 15 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADsQxML3kP4
Warnings: (Minor) Character Deaths, Gore, Language, Mentions of: Drug Use
There were still people in Stockholm, though not a substantial amount. There had been people indoors, in theaters, in offices, in parking garages, and they had been spared the gruesome death of their fellow civilians, and yet still felt the effects. It seemed almost like everyone had lost a part of himself or herself in the attack, a part that gave them aim and purpose. They wander lost down the streets, cars abandoned once they realized that they could not go anywhere in them without eventually finding corpses in their way. Instead they flocked from their dark, windowless safety to the streets, attempting to decipher what had happened. Many did not care about the cause, it seemed, as they shuffled in the dirt. They did not even seem to mind the heat of the post-midday sun burning up the atmosphere as they turned over bodies, attempting to find those that they looked for. Some bodies turned to dust as they were handled, decomposing faster than was logical, leaving piles of soot that would never be identified-- Leaving people that would never know if their loved ones were dead or not.
Oliver watched them shamble about, corpse to corpse, from his perch just inside the door of a store. They looked like zombies, he thought, with dead eyes that scanned slowly and deliberately, and they were intriguing so long as they kept their distance. The civilians did keep their distance since the store Oliver and Mikkel stood in appeared to have no corpses surrounding it. It was for the best because Mikkel had been busy. He had broken into the store and turned on a TV, flipping furiously to find a station still broadcasting. He wanted to see the news to find out what the Government was saying about the attack. At least, if the Government had not released any sort of statement, he could find out what the news crews said about it.
Oliver pointedly had not been watching, eyes on the door in what almost could have been described as weary wonderment, but when Mikkel found a channel, Oliver turned to him suddenly.
"They look broken," He said, and it did not come out sad. Oliver, for some reason, seemed to lack any emotion in his tone, which Mikkel picked up on right away.
"They're just confused. Most people are spoon-fed, are used to the same thing day in and day out. Usually they have the Government telling them that everything will be okay, soldiers directing them to where they should be. Right now, they're adrift, and free will is a scary thing when it's been a long time since you've felt it." Mikkel gestured to the TV as he finished speaking, directing Oliver's attention to it. Oliver seemed lost as well, Mikkel thought. He seemed disassociated from everything except from direct stimuli, and it was something he knew he should have worried about. It had not been that long since he had broken Oliver out of that base, not horribly long since he had had the drugs pushed into his system, so they were probably still working. Mikkel could not honestly remember his own initial transformation from civilian to soldier because there had been walls that the Government had built in his mind. He had been made to forget all about it in order to protect the Government from him, and so they were solid and would not easily fall. He assumed Oliver felt the same.
The television screen held a young woman, blonde, pretty, but she looked distressed. There had not been a chance for ad-libbing in a long time in her profession, so her words came jumbled, slow, and stuttering. There had been an attack, one that they knew little about. No one seemed to have seen anything, or at least no one still alive, and that gave credit to Mikkel's theory. The newscaster did not have much to go on, so she simply repeated things over and over. There was an attack, though no one knew what it was. There had been an attack, may god and the Government help them.
Mikkel shifted his view to Oliver, observing the younger man. He had seemed wiling to die, to stand along Mikkel and face the terrible end regardless of how it came, but courage like that, when mixed with time, often destroyed itself. There was still time, Mikkel knew. He could still find that deep underground bunker to throw Oliver in until it all blew past, but the younger man did not look scared in the least. His braveness had shifted to something else, but it seemed not to have fallen apart. Oliver watched the television, watched the woman fight to do her job without a rigid script to follow as terror grasped her heart and held it tight. Oliver watched but did not empathetically take on her nervousness as Mikkel had come to expect. Instead he stood straight, eyes narrowed slightly, and lips drawn in a tight line. He did not appear mad, but calculating. He appeared as a soldier would appear given the crisis, not as a young man very far from home would.
"Something isn't right in the Government," Mikkel said slowly, judging Oliver's face as he digested that information. His features did not shift as he thought about Mikkel's words, mind formulating a response to them. Mikkel almost felt like he could see the gears, the cogs turning others as he mulled over the words and all the information around him.
"They would have already had something for the anchors to read if there was not something wrong, would they not have?" He asked, and Mikkel fought back the frown on his own face. Oliver slowly shifted his gaze to him, and Mikkel saw what he feared. There was no glow in his eyes, nor any curiosity or fear that had been there the whole time. Actually there was nothing in Oliver's eyes at all. He simply looked and took in information, letting none out unwillingly. Mikkel's hand twitched to his gun, instinct rather than a conscious choice. Oliver was a soldier, or at least damn close to one, and therefore would need to be put down. However, Mikkel stilled his hand as rational thought about the situation took over. It was just a phase, he thought, one that would pass as the drugs got out of Oliver’s system. It would take Oliver longer to get over the effects since he had not built up a tolerance, would take him longer to have passed the Parepin, the Prozira, and the Opal from his body than it would have for Mikkel. He would just need to be watched until then. Maybe, he thought, the Presence would get them before Oliver would have to feel the soul-crushing weight of detox.
"Yeah, they would already have a cover story, even if they have no idea what's going on. The fact that they don't means that they're in disarray. It means that the Presence did some damn good for once." Mikkel's hand moved from his gun to his hip, eyes purposefully detaching from their watchful gaze at Oliver's face to scan the store. There would be nothing that they would need, nothing that they could use on their final day, but it was better than staring at Oliver and wondering about him.
"They killed civilians too," Oliver commented back, but there was no ire in it. It was simply fact, monotone and wholly unlike him. Mikkel's hand twitched again toward his pistol, but he willed it back. It would pass, Mikkel reminded himself. It would pass eventually.
"They already told us they would kill indiscriminately, and these people did not listen. You can feel bad for them, Oliver, but you cannot really fault the Presence for that. At least they got the warning, unlike we did when America stormed in and started killing people. At least they had a chance for salvation." Mikkel had turned again, watching the back of Oliver's head as he spoke to him. He had not wanted to turn, but something told him to, something told him to watch the younger man and see what he did. Mikkel did not know if it was his own paranoia or the Presence that demand he do so, but he was glad he had. Oliver slowly looked over his shoulder and back at Mikkel. His eyes were red-rimmed, darker, completely different than they had been only moments before, and yet strangely similar. It was the peak of the drugs, Mikkel reasoned. It would be all down hill from there, but as he looked at the younger man stare back at him, he noticed something. Where he had thought there was nothing there but the effects of the soldier education, the drugs burying Oliver so deep that he would never come out, there was a glimpse of him. There was regret there, solicitude even, and it was entirely unfamiliar to Mikkel. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone with a look of compassion, and even longer since he had seen that look directed toward himself. Oliver was still under there somewhere, Mikkel knew for certain, just trying to keep his head above the water.
"We should go before they get reorganized," Oliver said in that slow and monotone way that put Mikkel on edge, but he knew Oliver was right. He was functioning like a soldier, functioning with reason instead of emotion, and for right then, Mikkel could use that. He needed someone with a level head by his side, and though he wished that Oliver had never had to feel the drugs, he was willing to let it work for him.
"Come on then," Mikkel told him, and lead Oliver out onto the streets once more.
Oliver had been animate previously about dying along side Mikkel, had thought that that would have been the just thing to do, but with his sudden transformation into the soldier once more, exactly as he had when Sinclair held a gun to his head, Mikkel could not be sure if that really had been his choice at all. So, as they moved down the streets, Mikkel kept his eyes open for somewhere that Oliver could possibly survive the Presence's eradication of humanity.
Stockholm had basements, had subbasements, and it did have a few bomb shelters that Mikkel knew of. Still, the safest place he could think of was the Molious base, the Founder's base specifically, and unless he could locate another spot with less dead and decaying corpses in it, and less chance of strife between civilians as a bomb shelter would hold, he would shove Oliver down there and find a way to keep him inside. Mikkel knew he had no right to force the younger man to die at his side, and no right to even accept Oliver's decision because it was ill informed and down right suicidal. Oliver did not deserve that, and his allegiance to Mikkel was woefully misplaced. Sure, Mikkel had saved him, saved him a few times, but he never would have done so without the pushes from Maria and the Presence. He never would have stuck his neck out for the kid if he had not been forced to, and because of that he felt bad for Oliver to want to die by his side. Still he said nothing, not entirely sure how the soldier version of Oliver would react to that information, to Mikkel’s hesitation. Things could have gotten confused in Oliver’s mind, and he could think Mikkel a threat and kill him. He also could possibly snap out of his sudden emotionless state with the sadness he would feel over Mikkel not considering him a friend, just a mission. However it was not something he was willing to chance. Oliver was broken, and until he repaired himself, there would be no point in pilling more things onto his shoulders.
Mikkel wanted to concentrate on something other than Oliver, so he made a point to pay more attention to his surroundings. He looked at the buildings, looked at the dead and living civilians, and watched the way a slight breeze blew the dirt around the streets. He watched his world die and he wondered if anyone knew it was their last day. Eventually Mikkel looked to the sky, to where the sun lit up the pollution and cast an orange glow over everything. It had been blue once, he vaguely remembered. It had been clean with white clouds once, but that was so far away, and more of a dream than an actual memory. There had been a time, he thought, when they could actually see the sun rise and set on the horizons.
The sun, Mikkel thought, had been in the sky for a long time. Not in eons or any extension past his own life, but on that day. It had been in the sky for a long time, longer than that time a year would have allowed it, and showed no signs of getting closer to the horizon. It seemed to know that when it set, when it stopped lighting up their part of the world that the purge would begin. It wanted to buy them more time, wanted them to figure out some way to stop it all, some way to save them, but time was finite, even if the sun dragged it out hours longer than normal. Right then, Mikkel reasoned, there were parts of the world shrouded in darkness. He thought about them, the countries, occupied lands that were in the inky blackness of night. He wondered if the Presence had already started with them, had already begun picking off people in the darkness. Australia would have been devoid of life, he reasoned. A portion of Asia decimated for their crimes against the Earth. He wondered if the sun had bought them more time as well, or if it had just passed them over as normal.
"I need to know what to do," Mikkel spoke quietly. It should have been internalized, he knew, but he wanted to ask everything. He wanted to ask the sun, or the Presence, or even himself, what he needed to do right then, because he was at a total loss.
"We need to get to higher ground," Oliver said suddenly, and Mikkel had almost forgotten that he was there. He had been so quiet, so still even as they moved. He had always had Oliver's awkward fumbling, nervous need to talk, to remind him that he was there, but he had paced his foot steps with Mikkel's and had almost fallen off of the older man's radar entirely. Of course when he spoke Mikkel felt foolish for not remembering he was there and slowed, turning to look at Oliver. Easily the younger man met his gaze, eyes still shadowed and not entirely his own. He was in there, Mikkel remembered, but he was under. He was under the drugs. However, something caught in Oliver's eyes, something that stuck there for several seconds, almost taunting Mikkel to figure out what it was. When he did, his face fell heavily into a frown.
"How long have you been in there?" He asked, solemn and not just a little pissed. Oliver did not smile; just kept the same steady gaze he had held for some time now.
"Since you freed him. We tried to leave him on his own, but it had become obvious to us that he could not be. He was breaking, and that would not work for us. We did not crush the boy, but humanity did, which just further shows how uncontrollable you are. One chance for salvation and you almost kill it. We hope you understand we are saving you from yourselves." The words were spoken in Oliver's voice, leaving Oliver's mouth that formed the sounds easily, but they were not his own. They were the Presence's words coming from Oliver, their savior it seemed.
“There’s no way in hell you were there the whole time,” Mikkel said defiantly, furious at the Presence’s seeming accusation toward his version of saving Oliver. “He was himself, not this strange pseudo-person you are.”
“But he was not always himself, was he, Mikkel Boedker?” There was no quip in the tone of the response, no hidden amusement to indicate that the Presence was having fun with him. Mikkel thought back, thought back to instances where Oliver may not have been quite himself since being broken out of the soldier education. One stuck firmly in his mind and made Mikkel frown heavily.
“Sinclair…” He began, a hint of a question in his tone, which was confirmed by a stiff nod of Oliver’s head. “That wasn’t the drugs, was it?”
“That was a gift, one anticipated by us. Of course we did not mean for Oliver Ekman-Larsson to be so close to it, the darkness in you, but it worked to your advantage, did it not? You received the greatest vengeance you could want on the man you blame for all of your suffering.” Mikkel frowned heavily at the almost whimsical nature in which the presence relayed that information. It was not a change in tone that made Mikkel think that they were very happy that Mikkel had killed Sinclair and received some ounce of peace from it, but more of a feeling. He narrowed his gaze at Oliver.
“And there were more times?” Again Oliver nodded in response.
“Several. Any time we felt he was slipping away, any time he seemed to lose conviction about his mission or you, we needed to step in. If there was another way, Mikkel Boedker, I assure you, we would have done it. Unfortunately, there was none.”
"Fine. Fine, we’ll play with your mystic crap on that front, but I went and got him. I went and just like I promised. I got him out of that shit hole, got him away from the Government's needles and probing. So I think it's about time you tell me what it's all for. I think you should tell me exactly why you need him." Mikkel was pissed, tone attempting to stay level but failing to do so entirely. He wanted the Presence to know that he was mad, but he doubted that he would need to scream in order to get that across.
At first no response came from Oliver. It seemed as if the Presence inside the younger man was thinking, but Mikkel had a feeling that that was not the case. It knew how to answer the question, it knew it would answer the question, but it searched for something. It searched for something to calm Mikkel, and it found it when it made Oliver slowly smile.
"We need him to save humanity," The Presence told him, Oliver's smile there but it felt fake to Mikkel. It was like a puppet smiling, the body not actually feeling the emotion and yet trying to make others feel it. Mikkel did not fall for the show, narrowing his eyes as his hand slipped to his side arm. He would use Oliver as a hostage if the Presence did not give him a straight answer for once. Slowly Oliver's smile folded down into a frown, eyes hard as they looked at Mikkel.
"We are giving you the illusion of free will, Mikkel Boedker, and we request you do not abuse it. If we need to, we will destroy you, though we would like it not to come to that." Mikkel had no problem remembering that the Presence had taken over him as well, and he had no doubt that they would make good on that threat if Oliver meant so much to them.
"Then please just answer my question and tell me exactly what you need him for. No smoke and mirrors, no more mystic crap. Just tell me plain and simple, or I will make you destroy me. Remember, I'm not afraid to die." The Presence, for once, seemed not to have an immediate response. The frown on Oliver's face stayed deep, but his eyes appeared searching, wondering what Mikkel wanted to hear. They could just read his mind, Mikkel reasoned, but he figured they were quite busy with other things as well, like destroying all of humanity for instance.
"I promise you that we require him to save humanity."
"Humanity that you've already killed ninety-percent of?" Mikkel asked audaciously, voice finally rising in volume as he screamed at Oliver's form. He did not recoil, did not advert his eyes, as Mikkel knew Oliver would have. Instead he kept the same dead-eyed stare directly on Mikkel.
"We have only eliminated point-zero-zero-zero-zero-three-percent of humanity, Mikkel Boedker, across every universe. We have only eliminated those beyond repair, those that have failed to coexist with not only each other, but with every other living thing in their particular universe." Mikkel's anger fell into confusion, unsure if his mind had just translated it wrong, or if the Presence really made no sense. If the Presence had only killed people in and around Stockholm, then Mikkel could reason that they may have only killed a small portion of humanity, but they seemed to be an all or nothing deal. They seemed not to be the type of entity to just pick and chose their targets, especially after the general warning it had sent out. It had inferred more humans, more than were just on Earth at that moment, and Mikkel pondered on that as the Presence continued to speak. "Every time we make one, one that would go and offer survival to another universe, one that sits upon the brink. We have made millions, and Oliver Ekman-Larsson had been chosen as one. Oliver Ekman-Larsson will attempt to succeed where the one in your universe has failed, and that is why we need him. We need him to show others the selfish suicide of humanity in another time and place, one that has yet to cross the threshold as your humanity has." Mikkel could only stare at the face of Oliver, the one that held the Presence just below the surface. Oliver was not their weapon, was not their end game move. He was not even the savior of humanity in Mikkel's world. What he was was a prophet for another: another time and universe where humanity pushed against the edges of extinction.
"He… he's going to be your first warning?" Mikkel asked slowly, not entirely grasping the Presence's plan, but not entirely missing it either. Slowly Oliver nodded, though his eyes never left Mikkel's face. The older man shifted, hand going to his hip, though not for his gun, as he ran his other hand down his face, scratching across his long ignored beard. He looked around, looked at the bodies of the dead, and the equally distant living. He watched the destruction, and it all came into place.
"You do not all die, Mikkel Boedker. You do not all get slaughtered and forgotten as you so thought. Some of you, a few of you, get to live on and continue to try and complete your mission of salvation, but in a new vessel. You were chosen to be one of those, the other half of this one, because of your strength and compassion. You were chosen because there was already a connection from him, and though you could not feel it, there had been a connection from you since the first time he spoke your name. You wanted to save the world, Mikkel Boedker, and though your mission has failed here, we offer you the chance to complete it in another universe." The Presence fell silent again, as if waiting for Mikkel's decision, but none came. Mikkel felt lost in thought, lost in everything he had been told. It seemed entirely insane, entirely beyond reason. Maybe, he thought, he had never woken up from the overdose after he had blown the ballpark. Maybe, he thought, he had never escaped from the Government those years prior, but he could feel the heat on his brow, could smell the dead Earth all around him. He could hear the sobs of the living, and that made him believe like he was still alive. Those made him feel like the Presence really meant it all.
"What should I do?" Mikkel asked slowly, cautiously. The Presence had let Oliver's face fall back to neutral, just watching, calculating, as Mikkel's reaction slowly panned out.
"If you wish to help, if you wish to save this boy and let him save others, then you will find higher ground and you will wait. If you wish to throw our gift back at us, then you will shoot the boy and doom others. We will give you your free will back, Mikkel Boedker, because we have faith. We have faith that humanity will, eventually, make the right decisions. We have faith that you, right now, will do the same." It was not Oliver that came back to him, no slow parting as the Presence left the situation. It would have been hard to shoot Oliver, Mikkel knew, if he was himself. It would have been a good play by the Presence to make him face that, knowing that he would not pull the trigger if Oliver were wholly himself. However, as the Presence had promised, there was no trick. Mikkel could shoot Oliver dead and the younger man would never have to feel it, never have to see it coming. Mikkel could kill him and feel no remorse because Oliver would never know he had done it, but yet he still could not. His hand stalled on the grip of his pistol, unable and unwilling to unholster it. There were several tense seconds as Mikkel stared into Oliver's eyes, stared into them as if he could see the Presence below them. Finally the moment broke, and Mikkel removed his hand from the pistol.
"Fine, higher ground. But… tell me, am I going to die when this is all done?" Oliver nodded slowly, face still neutral in expression. It was not Oliver, Mikkel reminded himself. It was merely a puppet. "And is Oliver going to die?" Again Oliver's head bobbed in the affirmative and Mikkel scoffed, turning away from the Presence in frustration. Oliver, their prophet, was going to die. That seemed unfair and even cruel, but Mikkel realized that the Presence had a plan, one that was precise and was going to be seen to completion.
"How the hell do you tell someone that by the end of the day they will be dead? How do you tell someone that they failed and that everyone will be dead because of them?" Mikkel wondered spitefully, hating the Presence for ever getting him involved. He would rather have died a free man, one that made his own decisions and found a bullet in his brain some day. He would have never have had to be mixed up in Oliver and whatever salvation crap the Presence had wanted from him.
"You will tell Oliver Ekman-Larsson nothing. At the point in which he must know, he will know." Mikkel could see something when he turned back to look at Oliver. The Presence was still there, still keeping Oliver's face unnervingly neutral, still keeping his eyes hard and direct, but there were tears. There were small drops that only wet Oliver's lashes and the bags under his eyes. They were the only sign that Oliver was still in there and that he still felt something. "He, nor you, have failed anything in this mission, Mikkel Boedker, and so long as you continue to listen, continue to not allow your negative emotions to rule over you, you will complete it and feel peace for the first time in your life." It felt like a tall prize, steep given all Mikkel had done to bring about the end of humanity. He would argue that point, however, when the Presence came to deliver it. He would animatedly deny the gift of peace, wanting only the crippling despair that the other's felt upon their death.
"Are you going to give him back to me now?" Mikkel asked slowly, gesturing to Oliver's body. The Presence smiled, a wide genuine smile that spread entirely across Oliver's face, even to his eyes that remained dark and deep.
"We shall, but he will be damaged. This is not our fault, nor his, but the fault of the others that did not redeem themselves. Be careful with him for in this state, while so close to fulfilling his own mission, he will be fragile." Mikkel nodded, a shallow bob of his head that was stiff and unsure. The Presence watched him for several seconds, tense ones that Mikkel felt growing impatience over. They had a deal, one Mikkel would stick by, apparently for Oliver's sake, and yet the Presence still hesitated. As frustration mounted, Mikkel opened his mouth to speak. However, before any words formed, Oliver blinked, and when his eyes opened, he was back.
The blink had forced the tears down Oliver's cheeks, and he simply stood, dumbfounded and staring at Mikkel. He shifted, took a step back, and fell. There had been a corpse behind Oliver, one that he tripped over as he moved, and when he fell he landed on more. Mikkel had not counted, had not wanted to know how many people had died on that spot, but Oliver had fallen on more than a few of them. They turned to dust as he hit them, pluming up in a cloud that drifted into the air and clung to Oliver. The younger man did not blink still as he stared at Mikkel, but he shook visibly.
"I…" Oliver began, but it had no follow up as his bottom lip quivered much like the rest of his form. He looked broken, just as the Presence had said he was, fragile and ready to shatter beyond repair at any second. Mikkel had thought he would know what to do, how to pull Oliver back together and get them on their way, but when faced with it, he realized he had no idea.
"Oliver," He started slowly, shifting closer before squatting down. Oliver did not move away, but his eyes showed rejection, showed vexation, and Mikkel, for a second, thought it was toward him. He thought that maybe the Presence had double-crossed him, had shown Oliver just how black his heart was, and had turned the younger man against him. Oliver's words, however, showed that the emotions were not toward Mikkel, but toward himself.
"They're... They're dead, Mikkel," Oliver said quietly, voice shaking just as his body did. "They're dead because… because I couldn't save them. They… they wanted me to save them and I couldn't, Mikkel." Oliver looked like a scared child and an utterly defeated man all at the same time. He felt as if he had failed the world, that he had failed himself and his loved ones, wherever they were. He spiraled down, wanted the darkness back, wanted to dip back into the black pool where he had felt safe, but Mikkel was there and had no intention of letting him feel any more false solace.
"Oliver, we need to go," He said quietly, reaching for the younger man. Oliver recoiled instantly, pulling back and away from Mikkel, kicking up more corpse dust as he did so. He rolled on his side, tucked himself as small as he could, and howled in fright and despair.
"I want to die!" He screamed, and Mikkel pulled back as well, shock on his features. He had not expected that, had not expected Oliver's complete disconnect from him, but he had also assumed it would not be that easy. Oliver was complex, different, and eternally frustrating compared to Mikkel, but in those moments, when Oliver howled to be left there to die, Mikkel knew the fondness he felt for the younger man was entirely his own.
"Oliver," He started again slowly, no annoyance in his tone. "You don't want to die." It was a fact, and it was simple. It was something small that Mikkel hoped Oliver would latch onto and know to be truth. The shaking of the young man settled a little, his fetal position protecting him from anything he deemed to be a threat.
"They're dead because I couldn't save them," Oliver said weakly several seconds later, and though Mikkel wanted to feel annoyed, wanted to feel like Oliver was acting like a child, he could still only feel fondness and a bit of pity.
"They're dead, Oliver, because they shouldn't have been saved." Mikkel let that sink into the younger man, watched his shaking still entirely and his head shift, eyes slowly, cautiously, finding Mikkel's. "You were never supposed to save them, Oliver." Mikkel continued still gently, just watching and no longer approaching the younger man.
"You don't know that," Oliver said defiantly, though still meekly, voice still tight and unsure. Mikkel felt himself smile, and it was not exactly right. It had been a long time since he had smiled, even longer since he had smiled fondly at someone, but despite the imperfections, it felt right. It felt reassuring and perfect to smile at Oliver.
"I do know that, Oliver. You know why?" Slowly Oliver shook his head, just a little, still guarded and removed. He did not know why, and Mikkel was not entirely sure he knew why either, but he thought he did, and it was still not the Presence that spoke out of his mouth, keeping its promise of free will. "I know that because they would have been too easy to save. All they would have needed was to hear you talk about the sky, about the oceans, about where you came from and they would have been saved by you. Instead they didn't want to listen to you. Instead the Government didn't want you to save them, and you had to save someone, so you decided to save the hardest person in the world to save." Oliver's brows creased as Mikkel spoke, not entirely sure what Mikkel was striving toward. He did not want to ask, so he simply stared at Mikkel until the man offered up the answer.
"You saved me, Oliver, and that means that you will never have to struggle saving anyone else ever again. No one, no one anywhere, will be as hard to save as I was." Oliver did not smile at the self-deprivation from Mikkel, did not uncurl himself and accept Mikkel's words as truth, but his eyes did lighten a bit. He was curious, he was in that moment with Mikkel, and the older man knew it was the moment where he could either save Oliver in return, or crush him. "If I hadn't been so stubborn, Oliver, you would have saved them. So, in return, let me save you." Carefully Mikkel stood and extended his hand out to Oliver.
There were several tense seconds where Oliver did not come out of his self-hatred, did not uncurl and accept Mikkel's help, but when he did, it was with a small smile on his face. Mikkel did not know what the Presence had told Oliver, did not know if it had gone entirely, but Oliver, the real Oliver, had accepted his proposition, and that was all Mikkel cared about. He took the younger man's hand and helped him to his feet, letting Oliver dust the corpses from his clothes for several moments of introspection, before gaining his attention once more.
"We don't have a lot of time left, Oliver," He said softly and Oliver looked up to meet his eyes. Carefully he stood more, extended himself to his full height and looked around, up and down the street.
"Where are we going?" He asked cautiously. Mikkel obviously had a plan, and though Oliver trusted him, he was unsure if he would follow him. Mikkel had been a mystery to him for the entirety of his time in that universe, and though the man promised to save him, Oliver still felt hesitant to allow him to.
"We're going to find a nice high roof, Oliver. And then we are going to watch the end." Oliver visibly relaxed, the tenseness leaking from his body. He had thought, had honestly believed that Mikkel would shove him in a bunker. That he would make Oliver survive, give anything to make sure that happened. He had been unsure if the older man understood the difference between survival and salvation, but he seemed to have gotten it, and Oliver was thankful.
"I realized, Oliver, that there is no sense in cowering. You and I don't do that, not anymore. We're going to stare death in the eye, Oliver, and tell him to go fuck himself." Slowly Oliver smiled wider, brighter, and nodded to Mikkel, though it never quite reached his eyes. That, Oliver knew, was exactly what he wanted, and though scared of it, he knew it was the best choice for him.
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 15 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADsQxML3kP4
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html
Chapter 16 Zero-Sum: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/20530.html