not here.

[handelaar]

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NED

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[handelaar]

[That doesn't explain anything, and he huffs a sound into the comms without thinking before lighting a cigarette. (Also without thinking. Not your room, Ned.)]

So you're just. Leaving.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[But not hers anymore, either. Smoke away.]

Not just. You make it sound like it was easy. It's not, it's just -

[handelaar]

BULLSHIT! WASN'T THAT FUCKING HARD. YOU'RE ALREADY GONE.

[sweetmotherofgod]

NO! I can't keep pretending I'm fine because you're -

[handelaar]

STOP PRETENDING YOU'RE CANCER-SUCKING FINE!

[sweetmotherofgod]

That's what I'm doing.

[handelaar]

What?!

[sweetmotherofgod]

If you're just going to shout over me -

[I can't explain. Or: There's no point trying. Or: All you're doing is making me wish I hadn't told you where I'd gone. She doesn't say any of it, mostly expecting he'll just start again.]

[handelaar]

[Now this might be an unexpected move. There's silence, for one beat, two, and then he starts up all over again.]

Are you telling me. Or -

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Well, she was trying to tell him to shut the fuck up. But he's not screaming at her, so...]

I'm telling you. I feel like a freak and it's killing me. I am not okay.

[handelaar]

Heather.

[suddenly all he wants is to be close to her and is too choked up to say it.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

When it was just us I thought it'd be okay. If I just - tried hard enough. But it's not, and the thought of being like this in front of other people too -

[handelaar]

Wasn't okay.

[Said to her, said to him. He's not sure who it's addressed to.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

No.

I want it to be. But you can't fix something by shoving the same broken parts back in and hoping.

[handelaar]

Can't fix it by leaving, either.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Oh. Oh.]

Not leaving. Moving. I just changed floor, I'm not leaving you.

[handelaar]

[Annnd Reasonable Netherlands has checked out again.]

That's the same thing!!!

[sweetmotherofgod]

...

How.

[handelaar]

Wh- it just is!

[sweetmotherofgod]

That's s-

I don't understand how. It's not like we shared a room. I'm still here, I'm still talking to you. I just wanna have my breakdown in private.

[handelaar]

No - [deep breath] - no. You're not here.

[sweetmotherofgod]

Can you at least try to understand why I need this?

[handelaar]

[Quiet, as he smokes. And openly sulks at the wall since she can't see.]

Need it.

[Skeptical.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

I went to medbay. About not being able to feel the leg? They said it's psychosomatic. There's nothing wrong with it. I'm the faulty part. And I should've figured that out on my own, 'cause it only happens when I'm - when I feel like I'm -

wrong.

[handelaar]

[On the other end of the line he folds an arm across his stomach and sighs - blinks and realizes he's smoking in her room and starts making his way to his own as she speaks, scowling all the while.]

You're not wrong. [Huff.] That won't work.