[M] The Thing AU

[Daniel Wing]

He nods, world all the more dangerous without a passport, knowing now there's a disease in him. It might kill him. It might endanger others. It might turn him into something like Palmer. No one knows how it'll turn out and he is 16, not even old enough to have his life all figured out if he would've had a normal education. “Their papers are wrong too. I'm 16.” which is obvious enough when you spend time around him, mature as he behaves. Another trick to use him, without the hassle of caring for a minor.

 

[Palmer]

"Of course. Of fucking course." Palmer twitches gently. Using a kid like that pisses him off. "I'd like to have a talk with whoever decided to hide that."

 

[Daniel Wing]

Daniel can only shrug, had never met those people. The hospital hadn't believed his frazzled story those first days, but it carried to the right ears. And then there were more serious questions, too many while he lay in a single room, half-starved, heatstroked, ravaged by a fever and just short of a blood sepsis, already on the outlook for more medication to fix the thing in his head once his body could take it. He'd been admitted by the passerbys who'd found him, not coherent enough for insurance details, and they latched onto that chance to tie him in. Paying for it, getting him fake papers and keeping him isolated from the general public.

 

[Palmer]

Palmer just sighs and wraps an arm around his friend's shoulder. There may be nothing he can do about it now, but he'll keep an eye out. Maybe someday he'll get his chance . . .

 

[Daniel Wing]

The kid leans into it, craving contact oh so much. It's been some long, lonely years and Palmer doesn't know half of it – only the hints of growing up poor and scared, dropping out of school after elementary, being experimented upon and somehow ending in a spot that validated immediately hospitalization. “I'm glad you're here” It'd be very lonely otherwise, his story not exactly making it easy to find friends.

 

[Palmer]

“I’m glad you’re here too, man.” Who else would believe him to be anything but a monster if he dared to show them what he is? Who else would be able to look at what he can do and not run screaming?

 

[Daniel Wing]

Maybe Daniel is a little bit too trusting, after all he's seen Palmer do. Just because he can't be infected doesn't protect him from getting wounded. A lot of it is lack of understanding too, having never been exposed to fiction, alien takeover and the like – that and Republic having horrors not much better.

 

[Palmer]

Whatever the reason, Palmer appreciates it. Being treated like just another person is good for him. It helps quiet the part of him that thinks of humans as prey. Daniel, at least, is not prey. It's not quite sure what he is, it not being a pack animal, but he's not that.

 

[Daniel Wing]

Still a good deal more human, he is a pack animal. Kind off. At least he needed touch, conversations, this why he still leaned against Palmers shoulder, not cuddling, not intending anything romantic with a guy half and twice his age and not all human. Just wanting contact. “Do you remember things from before coming to this planet?”

 

[Palmer]

"What? I . . . yeah, kinda. It's vague, but I remember things my ancestors saw. Or whatever you wanna call them." He shrugs. It's normal to him now, he rarely thinks about it. "Most of it is pretty simple, really: intelligence is rare. We developed a kind of intelligence of our own, but it's very cold and calculating and I prefer being Palmer."

 

[Daniel Wing]

„How is it to fly between the stars?“ he asked with some awe. All Daniel ever wanted was to fly, be a pilot. Not commercial, not even military – just get up, away from the ground and all it's problems. Growing wings would be a dream of his, the only escape he can imagine.

 

[Palmer]

"It's strange. When you go fast enough everything in front of you goes blue and everything behind you goes red. Something about the light hitting your eyes in different ways. And then everything goes black, because the light in front of you is suddenly beyond red and the light behind you is beyond blue. Unless you're being something that can see those colors, but eventually you hit a point you can't see." He smiles. It's a bit, well, spacy: he's accessing something beyond himself, beyond the person he tries to be. "Until then it's a Hell of a show. And then there's the various types of faster-than-light travel, wormholes and warp drives and shit."

 

[Daniel Wing]

Daniel listens enraptured, only understanding so little of it. His lack of education was disheartening and he knew Palmer couldn't explain, that even if he'd be able to afford the books he'd not know where to start. So here he was, always aching for some more knowledge, childhood curiosity never satisfied. This now sounded fascinating. “Do you ever want to go back there?” Nowhere specific, just up, out, into a quiet darkness among glimmers of possibilities. It seems like a peaceful surrounding.

 

[Palmer]

"Sometimes. But I don't know which worlds have life, and which worlds aren't just us. Floating in space alone would be tiresome, and I'd need food. I suppose I could bring animals with me . . ." It's a big problem, the logistics of space travel.

 

[Daniel Wing]

Daniel would come along, for company. His food would be easier to arrange, he can live with so little. Not now, there's still things holding him here, but... maybe. Though he suspects it'd be more a slow death, somewhere out among the stars. At least a happy one, peaceful. “But weren't you forever in the ice without food?” If not for them Palmer still would be there, likely only thawing out once Antarctica got settled in hundred years or so.

 

[Palmer]

"I was frozen solid the whole time, though--or my ancestor was, or whatever. If I wanted to actually experience anything I would need food." Not that there isn't a kind of allure to sleeping the centuries away, but it wouldn't allow for anything exciting.

 

[Daniel Wing]

“You could time it, let yourself thaw out ever once...” he muses, thought experiments with little knowledge behind. For a moment he stares at his own hands. “They said I should've died of cold. At least get frostbite.” But nothing. It's the first time he got that cold and he felt fine, falling asleep like that.

 

[Palmer]

"Maybe there's enough of my kind in you that you're better with cold than normal?" Palmer shrugs. "I dunno about what they did to ya, man, but it's possible." Of course he was there as well, keeping the other warm. He'd rather not admit the reason why.

 

[Daniel Wing]

He sighs a bit, not knowing himself. “Cut open my knee. Put something in my eye that stung like wasp poison. Back of my head, like they're splitting my skull open – felt like that during the headaches for years. Passed out when they put another needle in my hearth.” Whether they took or gave something he can't say, only rubs his chest, all the scars there are.

 

[Palmer]

"Sounds terrible. I wish I could do something to change it." God, that they could do that to a kid for no good reason. Because what reason could be good enough to experiment with the thing that is Palmer? "Maybe someday . . ."