holyposition | IC Inbox

Oh, no, not really.

[ Shaking his head, and looking down at his hands, while he wipes a smudge off his glasses with the hem of his shirt. ]

That was all my parents. The man I worked for...he wasn't a good man. Corrupt. I really believed in him, but he proved me wrong. So I left. Enlisted. I was due at training tomorrow, but I woke up here, instead.

[ And when he goes back, he won't be allowed, because he's become too spoiled here to keep living a lie. Booted from the military, blacklisted, probably disowned. He'll suffer the consequences of an honest life eventually. Here, though? He smiles. That painful disillusionment of learning that his hero was a fraud has turned out to be a blessing. ]

You've sure shared plenty. Ask me anything.

[ Replacing the glasses on his face, the world back in focus. ]

I'm sorry. It's never easy to discover that the people you admire are not who they say they are.

[Now that he's no longer recounting his own experiences Goodsir's voice is warm again. Sympathetic.

He smiles.]

You are so patient with me, Tim. You've taught me much about what is and is not acceptable here, and I appreciate it greatly. Truly, I feel you can be trusted with most anything.

So I hope you will not be offended if I ask... would you choose to stay here rather than go home? Because you have, ah, love here? In spite of the hardships.

[ He nods softly, resisting the temptation to reach for a cookie. Biscuit? After all this time here, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the English way of saying things.

As for his question, it’s simple. More simple than it should be. ]

No. I’d go home. My partner, Hawk, we were... [ how to say it politely... ] on and off, back home. We're from the same place. But you can't be the way that we are and work for the government, so we were sneaking around in secret. It was really hard. On both of us. But now that we know the world can be a kinder, more accepting place, I don't think I have a choice. We have to go back and help transform it.

[ 'We', in this case, largely means 'him', but Hawk told him that he'd follow. Leave Washington behind. To even think about the way those words sounded, the fears he's long held being soothed, makes his heart flutter. It's clear on his face, bright eyed and grinning as if they weren't talking about murder and cannibalism only minutes ago. This boy is in love. ]

I would miss a lot about this place. And a lot of the people. But people like me are suffering back home. I know it sounds naive, but knowing what I know from fifty years ahead, I could really make a difference.

[Goodsir has no such hesitation - this man is going to eat as often as possible.

Listening to Tim, Goodsir finds his heart opening, his spirit lifting. Since awakening in this place he's been trying very hard to recapture his belief in people. Almost everyone he's met has been a joy, but the shadow of "what if" haunts his thoughts late at night. As he'd just related, men are capable of such evil.

But to hear Tim speak this way... people are good. They care.

Goodsir has to clear his throat, not quite teary eyed.]

I don't think it's naive at all.

[ Dedication to Lenten sacrifices trumps the craving. More for Goodsir. ]

I’m glad you think so. And I know it’ll be hard. And dangerous. My family’s stricter than I am, they’ll probably want nothing to do with me.

[ A painful admission, for as much as he loves them, as defeated as he was by the library’s rejection of a couple of photos. But he thinks of everyone who needs this: of Mary, forced to choose her livelihood over her love, of Frankie who doesn’t have the luxury of being able to pass for straight, and Marcus who’s afraid to want him because of it. He thinks of sweet Bob, his first lover, wherever he is now. Still hiding, still singing God’s praises in the day and cursing Him at night for making him so abnormal. If he can help those people and the countless others like them, every sacrifice, every wound will be worth it. ]

There’s people I’d take with me though, if I could. Guess you’re one of them, now.

[ Seeing as he’s got nothing to return to. ]

[If God can forgive all the murder, He can surely allow some biscuits.]

Yes. I imagine that you are probably correct, which is a shame. Your, ah, preferences? Certainly do not somehow negate the many things that make you a good son. Do you think they would actually be surprised? I know that, at least in my time, many choose to simply... not mention it. We've a great many confirmed bachelors, and they continue to speak to their families.

[Goodsir looks surprised, and then he smiles, blushing lightly.] Oh, goodness. I. That's terribly kind. Thank you.

I'm not certain what I would even do, in your time.

My mother’s still asking if I’ve met any nice girls I might want to settle down with, so I think so.

[ he lies, insists that working for McCarthy keeps him too busy, and she seems satisfied enough. A noble crusade before marriage. When he got that job, his parents had never been prouder. Now he’s betrayed McCarthy, quit, and has spent his time since living in sin and sodomy. She’ll have nothing good to say. ]

It’s not just that it’s not allowed, where I’m from. They’re actively looking for anyone with same-sex proclivities in the government to weed us out. They think that our perversion [ air quotes implied with his tone ] makes us more susceptible to foreign or subversive influences. They want us in the open, so they can ruin us. I was seeing a woman for a while. She likes women, so we used each other for cover.

[ Another long sip, more of a gulp, and he’ll concede: ]

I think my sister Margaret might suspect something. She hasn’t said anything, though.

[ The curious look on her face when he’d lied about his gift from Hawk said enough. ]

You could...go back to medical school. It’d probably be all new, after so long. You could move to California, so you never have to see ice again. That’s where I’d probably go. Far from Washington.

It seems mothers remain exactly the same across centuries, then.

[A bit of levity. But only a bit, because what Tim says certainly is serious.]

That seems all a bit paranoid of them, doesn't it? That is... [Goodsir stops, frowning. Sodomy is a sin, granted. A crime, also. But as wide-eyed as Goodsir often seems, he's not actually naive. Men he knew to be perfectly capable and perfectly loyal dabbled in some occasional trysts. Was it wrong? Yes. But did it endanger national security? Heavens no.]

To be perfectly frank, Tim, normal intercourse was a greater source of concern from a medical standpoint, at least in any military service. Syphilis is a terrible problem. Buggery not so much.

[He smiles sweetly.]

That is one of the former Spanish colonies, yes? I do wonder how I'd fare in a warmer climate. It's still on the coast, isn't it? That would be lovely. I'm certain there are many animals that I've never seen before who make the Pacific their home.

[Give this man a crab to watch and he's happy.]

Very well. If we are ever driven from this place, I shall accompany you to see California.

[ It makes him crack a smile. He doesn’t mean to speak ill of her, or anyone in his family. They loved him well and raised him right, and they’ve always been close, except for this one thing that they wouldn’t understand. ]

It is paranoid. I guess we live in paranoid times. Everyone’s afraid.

[ Nuclear war, communism, a rapidly changing world. He’ll forgo the full history lecture right now. ]

They suspected Hawk, so they hooked him up to a polygraph and interrogated him. [ A beat, before he realizes that needs an explanation. ] It’s a machine that measures your blood pressure and pulse to gauge whether or not you’re lying. It’s serious.

[ But Goodsir sees it sensibly. And that’s as good as he can hope for, for someone (he assumes) doesn’t share the same proclivities. ]

Yeah, all the way on the west coast. I’ve never been. But from what I read, it’ll be a hotbed of political activity. That’s where I’ll want to be, if I want to join the movement. There or New York.

[ But he likes the idea of going further. Somewhere new. ]

I’m holding you to it. Wait until you see cars.

Paranoia, in my opinion, does very little to help the safety of anyone. It strangles any truly logical thought.

[Goodsir makes a mental note to look up the 1950s in the library.]

Ah, I see, as most people experience a higher heart rate when lying? I rather suspect it wouldn't work on the accomplished deceiver, though.

[One Cornelius Hickey could breeze through any number of polygraphs, he's sure.

Whatever proclivities Goodsir has are enough to inspire letters from his own mother, at any rate. But he has the excuse of being married to the sea.]

Cars, oh yes! I've seen a few on the, ah, video? The video tube on the phone.

[Every word sounds faintly ridiculous when he says it, like he's learning a new language.

He lights up suddenly.]

I shall have to look up your California.

[And this is how he will learn about Baywatch.]

Agreed.

[ Tim thinks of the wolf games, and how they made the guests tear at each other. The wild accusations of the first round, the betrayals of the later ones. They’d done better with last month’s zombies, with a clearer enemy. But back home, as it was with the killing games, the subversives could be anyone. And Tim had compromised his morals just the same, the way he’d bartered lives, chose to protect his own even though Baela was in graver danger. She died because of him. And whatever became of poor Caroline? ]

He found a way to beat it. [ ‘Accomplished deceiver.’ It makes him snort out a laugh, actually, as unflattering as it is. ] Don’t judge him too much.

Oh, good! You should let me show you the movie theater, those are much better than those short little videos. You get to see an entire story.

Oh! Oh, goodness, no, I didn't mean to insult your-- I'm so terribly sorry.

[Goodsir wishes that it was the generational differences that make him so awkward, but no. No, he's just like this. At least Tim doesn't seem upset.]

That would be lovely. Although even the 'videos' are wonderful. I plan to eventually watch some on Nunavut. I... can't quite bring myself to, now. But I will. I miss the land.

No, no, [ He insists, waving away the apology with a grin, somewhat conspiratorial. ] He'd laugh. And agree with you.

You do? Even after all that?

I should very much like to meet him properly. You speak so fondly of him; I can't help but think he must be a wonderful man.

[After all, if Tim is kind surely his partner is, too.]

Oh yes. Right until the end, I found it beautiful. I think...

[His voice, always so gentle, softens further.]

I don't mind that whatever is left of my body remains there. The other men, I feel badly for them, they deserved good Christian burials back home. But for myself... to have my bones bleached and broken upon the shale, below the most brutally gorgeous sky you've ever seen...

[He smiles.]

I would be quite content with that.

You can sit with us at dinner tonight, I'll introduce you.

[ It's a beautiful thought, that the place could be wondrous despite the tragedy. Maybe he'll be alright here after all. ]

It sounds romantic when you put it that way.

I would like that. Very much.

[Goodsir goes pink and smiles nervously.]

Does it? I tend to, ah. Ramble. My apologies.

[ Tim Laughlin, certified yapper and friends to yappers everywhere, isn’t bothered one bit, smiling and shaking his head. ]

No need to apologize. It’s charming.

As are you, Tim.

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