Taking care of something (open)

[FOXTROT]

Foxtrot wasn’t sure what was going on. Things didn’t seem like they used to be, not that she could put her finger on it, but there was something off about things. The staff around the dollhouse seemed rather edgy. Or something akin to edgy. Foxtrot wasn’t really sure what the right word was, but edgy seemed pretty accurate for the moment. All she knew was that she was happy just being Foxtrot. That was her name, not this other person, this Amelia. Amelia didn’t exist, at least not in her. So, let the others be edgy, if she could just keep being, then she would just keep smiling. Or pretending to.

She was standing over a small bush that hadn’t been cared for properly. It had lost its sculptural shape with branches sticking out here and there. Poor bush. No one to care for it and watch out for it. A part of Foxtrot sympathized. Not many wanted to look after the other actives. She really didn’t understand why not, though she was sure they were often trying to explain it. Foxtrot just shrugged them away and went back to whatever captured her attention at the moment. But later, when she found herself alone, she would wonder why. After staring at the bush for a long moment, a determined glint came into her light eyes. She would look after the bush. Someone had to, so why not herself? Foxtrot enjoyed gardening, was very good at it and could take good care of the bushes. With the problem solved, she was eager to put her plan into action.

The red haired doll set off for a pair of scissors, rummaging through everything and making a great mess. She was on a mission and nothing else mattered. When one search turned up empty, Foxtrot moved on to the next search, leaving quite the trail behind her. Clippers were on the top of her list and Foxtrot wasn’t going to rest until… Oh, look! No, no, she had to focus. The bush needed her. Her hands danced around before sliding along some papers. With a hiss, she withdrew her hand and watched as the blood pooled to the surface of the small cut. Foxtrot stared at it, then looked beyond it to the clippers.

She carried the clippers back over to the bush, but her gaze was still on the cut on her finger. “I cut myself.” Foxtrot glanced back over her path. “Hmm.”

[CHARLIE]

Some days, the days when the headaches were particularly bad, it was difficult for Charlie to make sense of the jumbled mess of facts in his mind. Sometimes it seemed like the headaches were worse after a day of trying too hard to remember something specific about his life as Trent, other days it just seemed like the universe was pulling the quantum strings in a way that worked against him. He might hallucinate about the last time he ate a cheeseburger from the vendor across the street from the tattoo shop he worked at in Venice Beach or suddenly have an overwhelming urge to go up to the imprint room and ask for a treatment, odds were about fifty-fifty.

Today he was suffering what might be considered a migraine if he allowed Saunders or another member of the staff to examine his head, but as luck would have it he was also feeling particularly paranoid at the moment. His concern for the well being of his fellow Actives, however, remained consistent even when he felt like his mind was being pulled in every direction. And the sight of Foxtrot with a sharp object and blood dripping from her hand was enough to bring him to action. He approached her calmly, knowing how jumpy he himself was at times, and spoke to her in an even tone that remained neutral without sounding authoritative. As far as he was concerned, he was no different from the Dolls who were less self-aware. They were all at someone else's mercy from the moment they stepped into this house.

"Foxtrot, are you all right? Your hand... it's bleeding. Do you want some help with it?" he asked, not yet assessing how severe of a cut it was.

[FOXTROT]

Foxtrot turned toward Charlie, for a moment her face rather blank as it tilted to one side. A couple blinks later and it was like a light switch turned on in her head. It was always like that. There were moments when she was fully aware of herself and moments when there didn’t seem to be a thought going through her mind. It unnerved her, but they never lasted long; a second or two at the most. She could live with that. They’d all be living with worse these days. A few spacey moments wasn’t all that bad in the whole picture, right? Foxtrot didn’t think so.

In response to his question, the red haired active held out her bleeding finger which looked a lot worse than it was. Paper cuts were like that. Underneath the blood was just a common cut. It ran along the length of the pad of her pointer finger which was inconvenient, and fairly deep. She's survive, especially since many of her imprint identities has suffered worse injuries now and then. All actives seemed to suffer like that at least once. It was the nature of being an active. Luckily for Foxtrot she didn't remember a single thing about those days. ”I cut my finger.” She informed him, ”while I was looking for these.” Foxtrot showed the clippers to Charlie, an almost proud smile coming to her face. It’d been a difficult search, but she was victorious in the end. And she'd managed to stay on task. That was a small miracle for Foxtrot who tended to have ADD tendencies at the worse times. ”The bushes need trimming. No one seems to be taking care of them and I thought I’d at least trim them. Someone has to look after them.”

Her bright eyes turned down to her finger, almost hating it. The cut was holding her back. If she hadn’t cut her finger, she wouldn’t be wasting time with it and the bushes could well have been on their way to being clipped. And she would be out of the way of some of the staff and others who looked at her like she was a walking killer robot. It must have been the same for Charlie, though she wasn’t sure. Foxtrot tried to make it easier. She knew that she could be rather annoying.

”It would be nice for some help. I don’t have a bandage though. And I'd rather not rip my clothes for my finger.” She shrugged. Like it mattered.

[CHARLIE]

”I cut my finger while I was looking for these.”

Charlie gave Foxtrot a kind smile and took her hand in his, inspecting the cut. The sight of a doll holding clippers would’ve been unnerving to him if he had witnessed Alpha’s initial attack on the Dollhouse, but if he had been present for that, it was one thing he did not remember about his past. “That doesn’t look so bad, we’ll just need to find something to wrap it.”

”The bushes need trimming. No one seems to be taking care of them and I thought I’d at least trim them. Someone has to look after them.”

Charlie nodded to Foxtrot, part of him relating to her way of thinking, another part of him uncomfortable at the thought that he was once so simple, and yet somewhere inside him was a yearning for that simple life, to be blissfully ignorant of the world above them. ”That was very thoughtful of you, to look after them. We can trim them after taking care of your finger.” He knew what it felt like, to be eyed with concern and caution from the staff and fully aware actives. He was on the road to becoming an independent thinker, but it was a long road. Foxtrot shouldn’t be made to feel bad about her state of mind.

”It would be nice for some help. I don’t have a bandage though. And I’d rather not rip my clothes for my finger.”

“We can be quick about it. I’m sure Dr. Saunders is nearby and if not, I can probably figure out what to do,” Charlie said, hoping some part of him remembered what it was like to bandage a wound. He could access the findamentals of first aid, but some of the words weren’t clear to him. Other things he could visualize, but not remember what to do with them. Regardless, he didn’t want to concern Foxtrot.