pobody's nerfect (no, not even you) part 2: never a god, not even an angel (part 1 ao3 link)
The Militsioner stared as the new criminal wandered around curiously, eyes flicking back to the microscopic apple resting in his palm. He knew it was frivolous to eat. As his higher ups had instructed, it was unnecessary to create a being whose appetite would never be satiated. So, instead, he had resigned himself to watching the residents of his dingy little town nibble on the meager portions they were allotted from the floods. He had only ever tried food once, that being an apple at the very top of a tree he had assumed no one else in town had been tall enough to see.
He had plucked it up with great care when the night had stilled, then felt it against his skin for a little while, rolling it around in his palm slowly while he debated breaking the rules or not. His hand, opened flat just for the tiny red fruit, drifted closer to his mouth as he considered it. Before he realized, he had tipped his palm just enough to get the little red fruit into his mouth. He closed his lips right after, the little apple dancing on his tongue despite the fact it was smaller than even one of his tastebuds. He had used his tongue to position it in his teeth, the way he had watched his humans eat in the past, before gently biting down on it. It had spurted juice the moment the slightest amount of pressure had been placed on it, and his eyes had opened wider with a joyous sense of pleasure. A mellow sweetness with a hint of tart flavor enveloped his tongue. Its taste was delightful, he realized, as his mouth had watered for the first time in his life. He very much wanted to try another one, having heard that some apples tasted more sour. But he knew that would never be possible, unless somehow someone would offer him one.
The Stranger was the first to ever give him a gift.
It was likely a bribe of some sort, at least, that had been his initial assumption. But it had seemed almost as though the Stranger was trying to give him something in exchange for the rubles. He truly didn’t mind it, the broken window had been his own fault after all, and there was no harm in giving the new resident some money to get started. There was nothing illegal they could buy here, not with him watching. His gaze flicked back towards the Stranger at the thought that he was supposed to be watching, and he stared at them as they wandered up to the Cashier’s booth. The woman was already rambling on about the danger they posed to her, even as the Stranger desperately tried to explain over her yammering that they meant no harm. The Militsioner rolled his eyes ever so slightly. There was no use in speaking to the woman anyway, he thought to himself, she was much too self centered to be of any use to anyone, no matter how much he wanted her to be. Still he watched the Stranger struggle to even get a word in as she continued to wail about how dangerous they were. Then, he heard the signature hum of the dial tone. She was calling him. Again. His eyelids drooped in annoyance as he resisted the urge to huff at the idea. He watched the Stranger begin to slink away from the booth, seeming to deflate slightly. They wandered towards the stairs to the train, and the Militsioner straightened in place.
“I know you do not have a ticket, but…” he drifted off, voice catching in his throat at the way the Stranger seemed to jump at his voice. He blinked once, trying to brush off the hint of guilt that he felt. “You know you are not allowed to leave.” The Stranger froze in place, clearly hesitating for a minute.
“Yes, I-I know. I gave you my word.” They replied, anxious. The Militsioner blinked once, wondering if the nerves were a result of a lie or if it was just because of… him. He knew he towered over everything conceivable for humans, but no one in town had ever really reacted to him like this before. Natives were apathetic, often ignoring him. The few that weren’t born here often treated him with angry snarls and bitter profanities. He wasn’t used to being… feared. “...how it works here?” As the Militsioner’s thoughts faded, he realized that the Stranger had asked him something.
“Hm?” He raised an eyebrow, a little frustrated with himself that he hadn’t heard them the first time.
“Oh, um, sorry, I probably wasn’t loud enough.” The Stranger muttered to themself, and the Militsioner paused. Of course they had been loud enough. He could probably hear their fluttering heartbeat if he wanted to. His hearing, like any other Militsioner’s, was immaculate and perfect. To insinuate anything less was… “Could you tell me how it works here?” The Militsioner blinked.
“What do you want to know?” He replied, perking up a little. No one had asked him anything like that before. Usually newcomers would already be causing trouble, breaking into homes or cars to try and get their hands on something valuable. But the Stranger hadn’t done that. Yet, at least. He reminded himself again that this was a criminal of the same caliber as the one everyone called the Friend. The two had even appeared to know each other.
“My case… how long does it usually take to resolve?” They asked wobbly, and the Militsioner furrowed his eyebrows. Of course this one wasn’t asking about him or his job, it was the same selfish drabble he heard all the time.
“That depends on what you have done.” He replied, his tone keeping even and monotone. He was back to the script his higher ups had forced him to memorize. Of course, he never really got to know when trials were scheduled, as his first criminal resident had been here for a few years and still had not received any word of a court date. He had always assumed that case was more complicated than it seemed on the surface.
“What have I been accused of?” The Stranger asked, their voice clear this time. They seemed to have grown some sort of backbone. “I get to know that at least, don’t I?”
“You do.” The Militsioner replied truthfully. It’s not as though he could ever willingly tell a lie, anyway. “I just do not have your file yet. If I did, I would be sure to tell you.” The Stranger nodded, seeming to think to themself. Their mouth moved as they silently spoke to themself, and briefly the Militsioner wished that he could read their lips. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you wanted?” His tone was even despite his annoyance. He would’ve been far more grateful for the interaction if it wasn’t quite so one sided.
“Um,” They took a step closer, glancing towards the ticket booth before lowering their voice. “Is she always that…” they trailed off, clearly looking for the right word.
“Eccentric? Yes, she is.” The Militsioner guessed, based on the hushed tones they chose to speak in. He paused for a moment to stare at them, wondering why a criminal would seemingly care enough about someone’s feelings to try and hide any negative speech. It was an odd thing for someone deserving of this sort of punishment to do, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. “You sort of get used to the screeching eventually.” He added, matching the Stranger’s quieted voice though he knew it wouldn’t do anything to prevent the Cashier from hearing. Of course, she seemed to listen selectively when it came to him, only ever seeming to catch the minor conversation starters he would attempt when his loneliness got too unbearable.
“Oh, I think I saw a vending machine over there, do you want anything?” The Stranger’s voice caught his attention, and he froze.
“What?” His mind screamed that this was another form of bribery, but he didn’t want to care about that at all. It seemed another gift was in order, and he greatly wanted to accept.
“Is that… inappropriate?” They guessed after a moment or two. The Militsioner’s mouth went dry.
“I believe so, yes.” He answered, knowing it was exactly what his boss would want him to say. He hesitated for a moment. “But, I do not mind. It is… thoughtful of you.” He finished truthfully, genuinely appreciating the thought. He furrowed his eyebrows, knowing that this was likely some sort of trick. He reminded himself to be standoffish, like he had done with the other criminals in his town. It was just difficult when the person he was talking to was being so… reasonable. Harder still when he had never truly received kindness before.
“I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, I just… I want to repay you, somehow. But I-I should probably let you get back to work. Sorry.” The Stranger stepped off of the train platform, heading further up into the town. He hadn’t even got the chance to read their expression. The Militsioner blinked, watching them for a minute. So it wasn't bribery after all, at least, it didn't seem that way anymore. There was a possibility, of course, but it seemed much smaller now. The corners of his mouth twitched up, his mood shifting. The wind seemed to pick up around his head, blowing away the clouds. He leaned forward slightly, feeling his lips arc up slightly as they opened.
“I did not mind it.” He admitted, the words all but falling out of his mouth. It almost shocked him that he would say such a thing aloud. The Stranger froze, stiffening, and the Militsioner paused. Right. He was terrifying to this newcomer. It made him feel something akin to disappointment, a gentle ache just behind his eyes that made him want to break from his position. If only to assure them. He was here to protect, that was his job. To protect the innocent, and, well, wasn’t the phrase innocent until proven guilty?
“Really?” The Stranger turned around again, one eyebrow raised and their head tilted slightly to the side in question. An attempt for him to better gauge their expressions most likely, as they seemed to assume he was a big and unobservant man. They broke eye contact the minute they realized they had it, and he could hear them take a breath. “Listen, I-I apologize for making you uncomfortable with my jumpiness. I don’t mean to act like a frightened lamb.” The Militsioner’s eyes widened. An apology? For him?
“I do not mind. This town is my flock, and I the shepherd.” He said, trying to sound assuring. His boss had used the metaphor before. Lambs needed to be culled, and it was his job to figure out who needed that sort of treatment and who didn’t. He could not tolerate disobedience, and he likely would have proved so if it weren’t for the fact the rat man was so slippery. His brows instinctively furrowed at the thought of the man, but he was quick to rid himself of that feeling. He looked back at the Stranger, feeling himself soften at the look of them. “I must admit it is almost…” He froze, trailing off. He couldn’t say that, not to someone he had just met. Clouds cast a shadow over his face, and he quickly tried to bring his train of thought away from his thoughts of self-loathing and misery. He gently cleared his throat, his gaze falling on the Stranger, who just looked confused.
“Almost what?” They asked, their eyes shining with genuine, kind curiosity. He chewed at the inside of his lip, regretting the fact that he could not say much more. He greatly wanted to share his pain with another, but he knew that he would be shunned by his boss if he were ever to display weakness.
“Almost time for the store to open, of course. You should go. You need a window if I remember correctly?” Of course he knew what they needed, he had been the one to break it in the first place, but it seemed to be the easiest way to avoid a more saddening conversation with the newcomer.
“Oh, yes, thank you.” The Stranger turned, rushing back into the town. They seemed to ignore the cashier’s high-pitched rambling as they drifted past her, pausing only for a moment. “G’bye!” They called up to him, and the Militsioner felt his heart begin to ache. It was a feeling akin to emptiness, which of course was beside loneliness, which of course, was akin to godliness. Was he really a god among these people?
“Goodbye.” He replied, offering them a small wave though their back was turned to him. He paused for a moment, looking between his index finger and thumb. A large portion of the town seemed to fit between them, at least from his point of view. He stared for a moment, his hand beginning to drift down to his side, where it brushed at the top of a fog he knew loomed high over the docks. He paused again for a moment, slowly squeezing his hands open and closed.
The apple was gone.
His head tipped down with sorrow, clouds shaping into a strange crown at his hat. He had been given a gift, and now he had lost it without any care at all. It had been so easy to lose track of something so miniscule. Did that make him godlike? The gods were given offerings, were they not? Appeased by fruits and labor and sacrifice. Perhaps all he was to the Stranger was a being to appease. Rain slipped from the clouds, gentle at first, but eventually picking up. Not that the Militsioner really noticed, though. He lifted a hand to his face, pushing at one eye to maybe keep himself from crying. He curled closer in on himself, taking a brief glance at the mountain range he usually rested in. No, it wasn’t time to sleep yet. Sleep. That made him not a god, right? That made him human enough to matter, didn’t it? His eyes drifted towards the spot the Stranger once stood, lingering there for a moment. He wasn’t yet sure of why, but he wanted to connect with this one. Just this once, he wanted somebody to talk to who wasn’t selfish, or doing it just to make him angry.
Just this once, he wanted to be seen.
