'Verse: Resistance, co-author @whump-sprite Story: Unlikely Salvation Timeline: Pre-main-story, Ariadne as federal interrogator.
Box-Checking Exercise
“I’m not a sympathiser,” he repeats miserably. “I’m not – obviously witches and warlocks who use their magic illegally are – dangerous threats to society. I support – I fully support – our police force in protecting us.” “Of course you do.”
Ariadne paces. Whenever her path takes her behind Collier’s chair, he twists anxiously to watch her. “And as a staunch supporter of public safety, I’m sure you have no objections to helping us in any way you can.” “I don’t really see how I could –” “Is that an objection?” He slumps in the hard plastic chair, shoulders bunching. “... no.”
Ariadne notes the seconds of hesitation. Sympathetic to magic crime, or just unsympathetic to her?
“Then you’ll cooperate in any way you can,” she prompts again. “I don’t–” he starts, but catches himself short of repeating the exact same exchange. Ariadne waits. “If – there’s anything I can actually do,” he allows reluctantly. “Actually, there is.” “Oh joy,” he mumbles, then winces when she stops moving. Would you like to repeat that? But he doesn’t need the prompt. His eyes are downcast, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. He understands that he misstepped. A protracted silence is more than enough to set him squirming.
“I want you to testify against Bering.” “Who?” If his confusion is feigned, he’s a better actor than the rest of his conduct would suggest. “Charlie Bering. The mechanic?” “But I don’t – I mean, I’ve met him, but I don’t know him. Officer.” “Agent,” Ariadne corrects. Collier winces again.
“All I need is your testimony that Mr. Bering has magic and has – in defiance of the laws of this country – used that magic for personal financial gain.” “But –” Collier shuts his mouth, opens it again. “But, Officer – I mean, Agent – I haven’t – I’ve never seen him do any magic. I can’t – I can’t testify that, it would be a lie.” Ariadne raises her eyebrows. “Are you accusing me of lying?” “No, no, that’s not what I –”
His eyes keep darting to the door. Ariadne instinctively shifts her weight to intercept any ill-advised attempt at bolting, then decides that actually it’ll be easier to just let him try the door if it comes to it..
“I didn’t mean – I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, I only meant – I don’t know if it’s true, Agent. I mean, I’ve never seen – if I testified I’d be… making it up…” His voice peters out into a nervous grimace. Presumably he hears the implicit accusation he’s making despite his attempt to frame it differently.
“But you knew he was a warlock,” Ariadne notes. “I –” he flounders. More longing glances at the exit. His mouth works “– I – suspected – I didn’t –” “You knew he was potentially dangerous.” “I never saw him do magic,” Collier falls back on. “I never saw any magic.”
Ariadne stares him down. He shrinks further into himself, and buries his face in his hands for about three seconds before he decides that actually he’d prefer to keep his eyes on Ariadne. She sighs.
“Look,” she says, “this is a rubber-stamping exercise. Bering has already confessed, we know he’s guilty. Getting a second statement is just ticking boxes.” “I don’t –” Collier stammers, “I can’t – I can’t just say something that’s not – that I don’t know is true – I can’t just – I don’t want to lie in court that’s a crime.” “There’s no court involved. All I need you to do is sign a piece of paper.” “That’s not better,” Collier blurts out, then freezes like a rabbit in headlights. Annoyance crawls across Ariadne’s skin.
“I appreciate that you’re just trying to do the right thing,” she tells the man levelly. “You seem like a good citizen. But I can assure you that everything is above board here. Bering has already confessed. His crimes were witnessed by several officers of the law. There’s no doubt involved. And besides, it’s a matter of public safety. There is no legal requirement to involve the courts.”
Collier has a hand on his face again, half pressed over his mouth. Ariadne turns away from him to pick up the pre-written statement from the desk at the side. He watches with as much dread as if she were holding a weapon as she puts it on the table in front of him.
“I just–” Collier mumbles weakly, “I don’t know if I can –” “Of course you can,” Ariadne snaps. “It’s just writing your name on a piece of paper.” She picks up the pen, and puts it into his unresisting hand. “You’re not going to change anything by refusing except making my work a little more inconvenient. So save me some time and yourself some pain and just sign.”
“Pain,” Collier echoes feebly. There’s a note of rising panic in his voice. “Can I assume you know what that word means?” He makes a high-pitched, hysterical sound in response. The pen falls from his fingers as he clamps his right hand over his face above the other one. “I – I’m sorry –” he forces out. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
Ariadne sighs again.
“I’m – sorry – I am sorry – I just – I can’t –” “Breathe,” she tells him. For fuck’s sakes, she hasn't laid a finger on him.
She fills a cup of water from the cooler, and holds it out until he reluctantly takes it. The flimsy plastic deforms in his shaking grip, spilling water over his fingers until he uses both hands to steady it.
“Drink.” He lifts it uncertainly to his mouth and takes the world's smallest sip. “More.” “I – I gotta – breathe –” “Deep breath. C’mon, deeper. Hold. Now drink. Better. More deep breaths.”
He doesn't want to be having a panic attack in front of her any more than she wants to be walking him through it. He tries to get his breathing under control. Eventually he drinks again without prompting. Ariadne waits, unimpressed.
“I haven't done anything wrong,” he whimpers at last. “I believe you. So let's keep it that way.” Collier stares up at her, miserable and afraid.
“Listen,” Ariadne tries again. “If it's what happens to Bering that's bothering you, this bit of paper doesn't make a difference to that. He’s already guilty. His confession’s more than enough. All this changes is : if you don't sign it, I need to fill out some extra forms, and Bering sits in a cell for another week waiting for his sentence. This is a box-checking exercise. Understand?”
Collier looks down morosely at the statement in front of him. He's not reading it – his gaze is fixed and glassy. Ariadne picks up the pen again, and slides it gently between his fingers. “Don't waste my time,” she tells him softly.
Hand shaking, he puts the nib to the page and signs.
“Well done. Thank you.” Ariadne picks up the page before he can have second thoughts, and puts it away in the file on the desk. Collier slides lower in his chair, like he wants to disappear under the table.
Ariadne refills his cup and sets it back in front of him, but he doesn't move to take it.
“I have some questions for you now.” Collier starts up abruptly. “You said that was all,” he accuses. “You said I just had to – sign, you said –” He falters, seeming unable to find the words he wants. Ariadne waits. But he's hyperventilating again, breath coming shorter and sharper on every inhalation.
“No one's accusing you of anything,” she tells him. “It's just some routine questions about Bering –” “I told you I don't know him–” “– and about your community. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” “I–” he stammers, “– I don’t –” “Breathe.” “I can't –” “Alright. Alright, I get it.
“How about this – I'll go take a coffee break. You’re going to take some deep breaths, maybe drink some more water, and calm down. When I get back, we’re going to have a nice, civil conversation. Nobody gets hurt, and as soon as we’re done, I’ll sign you off to go home. Alright?”
It takes him several seconds to realise she’s waiting for a response. When he does, all she gets is a single, jerky nod. It’s good enough. Ari exhales slowly through her nose, willing herself to be chill. He might be losing his mind over the slightest hint of threat, but he is cooperating. If he needs a breather, he can have it.
