trans_9 | Crack your skull open [Closed]

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Crack your skull open [Closed]

Picking a place to do evaluations wasn't easy, but after some searching, he eventually found a nice spot. It was... some alien building in the city. He didn't know much about the culture, but he had to marvel at the architecture. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing, the furniture was comfortable, and the walls were virtually soundproof. It helped to provide a nice relaxing and secure atmosphere he needed to get people talking.

And speaking of, he sat back, waiting for his first few appointments of the day to arrive.

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"Well, the first thing you should know is that it's only a wrong answer if you're lying to me. Beyond that, there's no magical checklist that says 'this answer is normal' and 'this answer is not." He even flipped over his notes so that Jaime could see that... it was just a bunch of blank papers, with something loosely scribbled on one.

"And even if there was such a sheet, we're both one of the last people from our respective worlds, and we're on a giant ship made out of meat that speaks into your brain. If you were giving me 'normal' answers, I'd be worried that something was desperately wrong with you."

And he'll give you a second to think about that.

"All I need you to do is answer a few questions as honestly as possible, that's all. Okay?"

And think about it Jamie did, brow furrowing slightly. He suspected that, depending on what Samson asked him, he might still be giving him a lot of "wrong" answers anyway.

His eyes flicked over the papers in Samson's hand, trying to discern the sole piece of writing on them, before returning his attention to the man himself. Cautiously, he bobbed his head in a nod. "Okay."

"Good." And while the Doc intends to address Fairplay at some point, he thought he'd start off with a bit of a softball.

"So, tell me, what do you do in your free time on the ship?"

"I read," Jamie said with a light shrug. "Spend time with my Zoid - that's a kind of living robot we have, where I come from." Trying to explain Zoids originally had been to him what explaining a dog or a horse might have been to your standard Earth native, but he was accustomed to it by now.

"Other'n that, uh...I mostly just train with the squadron or do what they need me to in Engineering. I'm studying a couple other things on the side." Another shrug as he regarded Samson, trying to assess the man's reaction to his answers.

The boy was into a few activities, that was good. Though none of them seemed to be terribly social.

"What about hanging out with your friends? Do you get a chance to do that regularly?"

Jamie paused. "I spend most of the day with the other Rogues," he hedged. Squadronmates were pretty much the same thing as friends, right? Just without the idle chatting and hanging out and...friend-like activities.

Well, it's not entirely unusual. After all, squads can become like family in some instances. But was that emotional attachment there?

"Who are you closest to, on the squadron?"

Another pause as Jamie considered how to word his answer. "...well, nobody, really. You can't play favorites in an organization like that, everyone has to be equally important."

He thought about that answer.

"Not really. I can understand wanting to keep things professional and business like, but its only natural that you'll get along better with some people than you will with others.

"But outside of your professional relationships, who do you consider to be your friends on board?"

Jamie frowned a little as he realized there was no real way to bullshit his way out of this one. "I don't...really have any friends, okay. But there's people I trust and get along with." He hadn't expected to get grilled on his relationships, or lack thereof, and was starting to feel defensive, but he managed not to let it show. For now.

He wasn't going to ask 'why don't you have any friends?' because no one ever has the answer for that one. All it does is usually make them feel more useless, depressed, and unwanted.

"That's good to have. Though all relationships take time to build. They also take work, some of which you're going to have to put in." The fact that Jamie had been here for quite a while and didn't have anyone he could call a friend was rather troubling.

"Do you ever interact much with any of the other people on board that your age?"

"Not outside of missions or working in Engineering, if that's what you're asking." Jamie held back a sigh and shifted in his seat a little. "Look, no offense or anything, but I don't really see why I need friends here. I pull my weight, I do what I can to make myself useful, and I try to be dependable and get along with people. I thought that was enough."

"But do you ever feel lonely? Even just a little bit?"

"Not really. Like I said, I'm around people pretty much all day. I don't really have time to feel lonely."

"What do you have time to feel? Or do you not have enough free time to feel anything?"

"You sound like you think I'm some kind of emotionless robot just because my social life's a little stunted." Jamie smiled thinly, checked his annoyance and let just a touch of exasperation color his tone. "I feel the same things anyone else does. Happy, sad, angry, frustrated. Not having a lot of friends doesn't mean I've forgotten how to feel things."

"No, but it does mean that you might be distracting yourself from dealing with those feelings."

Jamie gave him a practiced where are you getting this look. "I deal with 'em. I just deal by myself. 's what works for me." He shrugged, frowning in feigned perplexity. "I don't really get how my lack of friends means I'm not dealing with things."

"How's that working for you when it comes to dealing with your most recent mission?"

How are you handling Fairplay, Jamie?

Jamie grimaced a little at the inquiry - just a little. Safe enough to show that much reaction, right? General consensus among the crew who'd gone seemed to have been that the mission was emotionally taxing, or so he gathered from what he'd seen when everyone had returned to the ship.

"It's working okay," he said, shrugging again. "I'm dealing with it okay."

"You don't sound too sure about that," he noted.

"Tell me what happened to you on the mission."

Jamie hesitated, considered asking why Samson needed to know, worried the question would look too evasive, and did as the doctor asked. Sort of.

"Some...gods, or something, made us all think we'd lived in that town in Iowa our whole lives. My dad - my fake dad, the guy that was supposed to be my dad - worked in a factory. He arranged for me to start working there after I graduated." He gave a little twitch of one shoulder. "I went to school. Got made fun of a lot. Nobody liked me. They didn't like anyone else from the ship either, I guess."

"And the train?" You know exactly what he's talking about, Jamie.

Jamie had no idea how Samson had found out about that and he was none too happy that he did know, but his displeasure manifested in only a brief narrowing of the eyes before he replied. "That was just...something that happened to the version of me that was there. Didn't have anything to do with who I really am."

Considering how much one of the Q had been shouting about it in front of everyone, it would be no wonder that a few of his crewmates felt concerned enough to mention it.

"But looking back on it, how does that whole incident make you feel? Looking at it from the outside, what do you think of that kid... that other you?"

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