Post MoM AU, general post

[use_everything]

And then one day, it was over.

The memory of how it happened was hazy. Perhaps it was as simple as being ported out, perhaps there was a great experiment, bringing together physicists, chemists, alchemists and scientists to get something WORKING. But like the memories of that time, that other dimension, singular events come and go, like a dream, or an age past.

From the very start, however, there were changes.

Comments

[dendarii]

[ A reasonable amount of all of the above, thanks to Aral's briefing and his own memories. ]

Galen commissioned you, right? To try and replace me.

[jacksonian]

[ He clenches his jaw and nods. ]

Yeah. I was supposed to kill you and take your place. And then I'd kill your father and the Emperor. I'm a Bharaputran creation, made in a lab and pulled out of a uterine replicator. I don't have a mother or a father. I'm just some tissue sample cut out of you that they forced to grow. Not even really human. That's not a brother.

[dendarii]

[ There's no surprise in his expression, though he tries to at least remember to widen his eyes a little. ]

Do you want to do that now?

[jacksonian]

What does that matter?

[ He stares glumly down at the floor. ]

It doesn't change what I am.

[dendarii]

Choosing is something that people do, Mark. The fact that you can do that makes you one.

[jacksonian]

[ He shakes his head. ]

I can only do that because your father decided I would have that right.

[dendarii]

Are you sure about that? [ His voice drops slightly. ] Did our father really give you your first choice? Or did you make some before then?

[jacksonian]

[ He looks away, jaw set, confusion bubbling in him. ]

Look, the only reason I'm here is because Vorkosigan offered me an opportunity to strike back against Bharaputra, back on Jackson's Whole. Don't get carried away with this sappy stuff.

[dendarii]

Oh, good. I'm glad of that. But that isn't the end either.

[jacksonian]

That's not the...end? What are you talking about?

[dendarii]

After you free the clones. What then?

[jacksonian]

[ He opens his mouth, then closes it, confused. Then he shakes his head, completely helpless. ]

[dendarii]

[ Gently: ]

I hope you aren't planning on getting yourself killed.

[jacksonian]

[ He flinches just a bit, but replies stubbornly: ]

If I do, it doesn't matter. It's worth it to save them.

[dendarii]

I don't doubt that. But I still want to see you home safe at the end of it.

[jacksonian]

Home. Meaning here?

[dendarii]

[ ... Miles nods at that. (Don't push him, don't push him...) ]

Of course. Whether you choose to stay here or not. Has Da given you a tour yet?

[jacksonian]

[ He's distracted from his defensiveness, his reluctance to call this home, by that last question. He shakes his head. ]

No.

[dendarii]

Come on. I'll show you around, then.

[jacksonian]

[ He briefly considers protesting that he has the layout of this house committed to memory, then decides to bite his tongue and just grab a few pastries instead. Three go in his pockets, and one gets held as they walk. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles takes a couple for the road himself. Just in case. He leads Mark back out into the main room and to the staircase. ]

Bedrooms or main floor first?

[jacksonian]

Um - main floor. I guess.

[dendarii]

We'll start with the receiving rooms then.

[ And Miles starts to take Mark around, explaining the layout and the various historical items lying around in Vorkosigan House. ]

[jacksonian]

[ And Mark listens silently, watchful, paying more attention to Miles than he does to any of those items. He takes the running commentary as an opportunity to continue studying his progenitor's face. He eats, too, as they go, working his way through all of the pastries he'd stolen. There's no question that the food has gone over well. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles relaxes into an animated patter. He clearly loves his home, even when he points out the spots where he's fallen and broken his bones, and is quick to tell stories about everything he's done here. Home, home, home is the underlying refrain. He hopes it will invite Mark to think of it in the same light.

When Mark eats his last pastry, Miles offers him one his own. And keeps talking. ]

I guess we're not in as grand a style as some of the other Vor, but it's beautifully rustic. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.