Asim tries to introduce himself to Morgan. It doesn't go too well.
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CWs: self-dehumanisation, expecting to be punished, wanting to be punished, caretaker new whumper, bad caretaker (for a bit), conditioned whumpee
Morgan's looking out of the window when the new person enters.
It's been a strange few days. Rhian is nothing like its old handlers. Her gentleness hasn't left yet, and for some reason she expects it to share her bed. She seems happy with the arrangement, and Morgan doesn't understand why she'd be so willing to be close to it, to let it touch her, when she could just as easily store it elsewhere, but it's… a very acceptable situation.
When the door creaks open, Morgan scrambles away from the window and sits on the edge of the bed, back straight, arms behind its back, gaze on the floor. Exactly how a weapon should sit, subservient, ready to be taken out and used if the person entering wishes, dangerous hands safely out of the way. It's the best it can do with no safety restraints.
It's not Rhian's footsteps, or Asha's even. Morgan has no idea who it is. Its throat tightens. Is it to be used now?
The footsteps pause, before continuing, coming to a halt in front of Morgan.
"Er. Hi. I'm Asim. I haven't met you before, but Asha's ill so I'm going to change your bandage instead."
Morgan flinches back as Asim's hand reaches for its ankle, jerking its leg out of reach. It's not safe and it's a surprise and Rhian says it's allowed to move. It pulls its leg up to its chest, trembling.
"I'm trying to help you, Morgan," says Asim, sounding annoyed, and Morgan freezes. What if Morgan's only allowed to move around Rhian? Is it going to be corrected for this? It will be, it knows it, it's heard that tone of voice before.
The weapon doesn't know how correction works here. It doesn't have a control harness, so there must be some other method.
"You don't need to be so scared, I'm not going to hurt you." Morgan doesn't move. It knows that. It's a weapon, it can't be hurt, it's just going to be corrected. Asim sighs. "Look, I'm going to fetch Rhian. You just… stay here, yeah? I'll be right back."
Asim leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
Is Rhian going to correct it then? She must be, and for some reason Morgan feels a pang in its chest, its heart-rate increasing. It's malfunctioning again. If it's going to be corrected, it's not safe out here. It drops off the bed and crawls over to the cabinet, climbing inside. With the door shut behind it it's safer. It feels safer, even if that feeling is an aberration and not something it should care about. Even without a lock it's… better. Its heart rate is decreasing.
There's voices outside, and Morgan strains itself to hear, curled up in a tight ball. Its hearing isn't as accurate as it was, although it hasn't been obedient enough to bring that up to Rhian yet, but it can still hear Rhian and Asim open the door.
"... like I did you. And they just… where are they?"
"They're safe. I can guess where they are. But Asim, you can't treat us both the same. I might've been imprisoned for seven years but I knew you were on my side when I arrived. I was confident enough to ask things, even if it took a while to come out. Morgan… they don't know they're safe. They still think we want to use them, Asim, it's what they've been trained for. You can't just expect them to trust you."
"They thought I'd hurt them?"
"They wouldn't call it that, but yeah. Let me calm them down and then you can say hello."
"I'll leave them to you then. Let me know when they're ready."
"Yep."
The door shuts, and footsteps approach the cabinet. Morgan flinches hard when there's a knock on the door, hitting its head hard against the wooden ceiling.
"Hey Morgan. It's just Rhian here. You're not in trouble, but when you're ready to come out I have some food for you. I'll wait on the bed."
Rhian walks away, and Morgan takes a deep breath, then another. It pushes the door open before it can inconvenience people for any longer.
Rhian smiles at it. "Hey there sweetheart. Can I check your head when you get over here? That was a nasty bang."
Morgan nods before crawling across to the bed. Rhian makes a face but doesn't help, and that's a more than acceptable state of affairs. It has to do something on its own or it's entirely useless. It bends its head to allow Rhian to see.
"It doesn't look too bad. Bet it hurts like hell though."
"Weapons don't feel pain," replies Morgan automatically. Rhian raises an eyebrow, and it adds hurriedly, "It is an uncomfortable sensation though." In multiple places, actually, its ankle too, but it isn't going to mention that.
"I'm going to give you some painkillers then. It's about time for your next dose. And then you can eat."
Morgan swallows the pills and looks at the plate Rhian's holding, trying to disguise its eagerness. The sandwich smells so nice, and the nutrition – food – here actually has taste and texture. It rests the plate on its lap as it eats, just like Rhian does. She chuckles lightly.
"I knew you had a sweet tooth. Luckily we had some jam left." She pauses. "Asim's not the most tactful, but he really was just going to change your bandages and say hello. It's okay that you were scared, but you don't need to be. He's not going to… correct you or whatever it is you call it."
"It's only human to feel, there's nothing wrong with it."
"But it's not human, it's only a weapon, it's against this weapon's programming to feel." The weapon's malfunctioning again, it's arguing with its handler, but it can't seem to help it, she doesn't know much about weapons. It almost wishes it could be corrected, to be rid of these aberrations that just keep getting worse.
"Oh, sweetheart. You're so very human. I'm just not sure how to convince you of that."
They pull Morgan into a warm hug before it can protest again. Morgan buries itself in them. They might have some strange ideas about weapons but they really are very warm.
trying to explain to my dad that i am NOT able to forgive and forget that my mom voted for Trump three times. and hes like "it takes a lot of energy to hate"
