video; cw: talk about suicide

[anewlanguage]

The end of the year, the holiday build-up, whatever it is, back home you could count on December and January being the peak suicide months. I always tried to plan my high-risk jobs around then; easier to get them written off as accidental deaths...or intentionally self-inflicted ones.

[He sighs, sips his drink (which is a soda for once)]

God, am I glad I'm retired. The trick to this place is, when you start feeling that.... It's like an urge to look over your shoulder, when you know you're being followed, right? That's what guilt's like. When you start to feel that, you have to figure out what you're going to do. And if any of you start thinking thoughts that maybe would get your warden or your inmate worried, just know that you're not the first person to feel it. And whatever it is that's tailing you, there's something better ahead of you, believe it or not.

For the record, though, now that I'm done pretending I like a good cry on my shoulder? I fuckin' hate holidays. Especially Christmas. It's those sweaters. Terrible....

Comments

[anewlanguage]

At least we do something right. 'Course it makes me wonder what about Mr. Easter Bunny.

[He's not sure he wants to know about the Easter bunny.]

How'd you bump into him?

[routemistress]

Oh, the bunny's an alien, right enough. Don't tell anyone, though, that's meant to be a secret.

[That may be a tale. Probably.]

Santa bumped into me. Rear-ended my bus in the Vortex, the daft old sod. So we got talking while I were towing the sleigh, like, and that's when I come up with the upgrade idea.

That part's a secret too, by the by. There's a few galactic powers'd be down on me like a ton of CIA operatives if they found that out. Oh, but we fixed that sleigh up lovely!

[This part of the story comes with unalloyed pleasure; but on its heels, Iris sobers up a little, and her eyes remain fixed on Cain's collarbone.]

Well, of course we 'ad to drink to it, didn't we? To celebrate! And really, nothing 'appened - to speak of.

Well, not much 'appened. Married man and all. It were really very innocent.

[It probably wasn't.]

[anewlanguage]

Darlin', you wouldn't know how to be innocent if you had a nun there holding your hand.

[He knows you too well, Iris.]

You didn't break up the Clauses did you?

[routemistress]

[It's not that she genuinely feared she would be judged; Iris knows Cain too well for that, too. But she relaxes perceptibly as she hides her face in the hollow of his throat.]

Not on purpose. Mary found one of my earrings on the back seat of the sleigh and jumped to conclusions. By the time I looked 'im up again a while later - Panda'd gone missing and the only clue I 'ad were a lot of suspiciously hi-tech talking panda toys - she'd thrown 'im out.

[She says nothing of regret, and there's none in her voice. If she were telling this story to anyone else, she'd be laughing, and the laughter's still there in the edges of her voice, in the twitch of her mouth against his skin.

The regret is deeper, a faded bonebruise that speaks softly out of the sag of her shoulders, the grateful way she clings to him. It's there all right, but Iris, like Cain, is someone who learned the knack of not living in it a long time ago.]

I did get 'em back together, mind you. One indiscretion and one overreaction's not enough to chuck away a good thing over. Plus the little matter of 'ow she'd kidnapped my Panda and planted temporal bombs in every Christmas stocking in the galaxy. That woman could 'old grudges professionally, she could.