Work Text:
𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆
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"𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅,
𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍
𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆?"
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"𝑺𝑯𝑬'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬..." 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑫, yet it was so hesitant, it almost seemed like a question. But Devon just nodded and looked at the woman ahead.
Harmony Cobel.
His hesitation came from a place of fear. He had woken up (this time, not at his accord, not from the OTC), at a place not at MDR or at his office but in fact, a cozy looking house, almost the same as when he’d last woken up outside and Devon was smiling at him almost hesitantly.
It almost felt like he was being held hostage and forced to be interrogated by the same woman he’d felt a bit free from — Harmony Cobel. All those weeks and the terror of her still hadn’t left him.
It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know where he was. He was brought here without his consent. He wasn’t given any background into why he was here. And suddenly Devon, his outie’s sister, takes him to a walk head first into Harmony Cobel.
“No…” he shook his head, as Devon whipped her head towards.
“No?”
“Get me out of here.” He said simply as he walked out of the other direction immediately going to the stairs.
“Mark.” Miss Cobel’s cold voice turned to say, but he feverishly shook his head. “You will come right back here. He will take you here.”
“No.” Mark’s voice raised up, his chest heaving in a panic and he felt a warm but firm hand stop him. He turned to see Devon, her expression was pleading, her blue eyes almost on the verge of collapse. He hadn’t seen emotions so profound before. Except with Helly.
His Helly.
No, if he was here, Helly should be here too. She should be here. What happened to her? Where was he? Where was she?”
“Where’s Helly?” His voice was almost above a whisper, panicking more at the though of being alone without the comfort of his friends; without the comfort of Helly.
“I swear…” He rubbed his forehead, as he looked in an accusatory manner at Ms. Cobel. “Where is Helly?”
“Mark…” Her cold voice started again, as her icy blue eyes pierced through his soul. “You won’t test me.” She warned him, and her anger flared in her eyes as his accusatory expression flickered, remembering her dominant personality.
“Hey! Hey, hey…” Devon softly held his shoulders, compelling him to look at her. “Listen, I know you’re disoriented. I know this is a new place for you. I know how confusing it must be. But remember what you told me about how Lumon was practically torturing you innies?” She looked at him with kinder, more eager blue eyes and Mark only just looked at her warily.
“Yeah…” She nodded. “Mrs. Selvig—“
”Mrs. Selvig?” His eyes crinkled in confusion.
”I mean, Harmony, she’s going to get you out of there. All of you. But you need to relax. She’s on your side.” Devon calmly explained.
”My side?” Mark scoffed. “She is literally Lumon.”
“She was.” Devon emphasised. “Mark— Jesus… please. Just… give her a chance. She just wants to talk.”
She just wants to talk.
To Mark, Miss Cobel couldn’t talk. Not without threatening to slit his throat. Not without making her presence demonically tyrannical. He gulped as he stared back at his former employer.
“Mark.” Miss Cobel started, her voice stern and strict but less harsh than before. “How much of Cold Harbor is complete?”
The question made him furrow his eyebrows. Why did she care?
“About 96%, the last time I was at work. Why?”
That seemed to make Miss Cobel take a breath of relief, her eyes briefly shutting. She then resumed her cold stature, of piercing dead into his soul. She slowly walked around a wooden table, her fingers grazing the polished wood.
“If I were in the stead instead of Milchick, I would’ve already made MDR reach quota. Makes me wonder what Seth’s performance review would’ve been. The Board isn’t easy to please, you know that, Mark.” She started, as she pulled out a chair for herself, carefully sitting down then resuming her steely gaze. “Luckily for you, that’s not a goal either of us are trying to reach.”
Mark uncomfortably shifted at her words. It was true, after all. Under Milchick’s management, MDR had slowed down significantly. Their curiosity had only grown, no one had been interested about completing the numbers — they wanted to live the half lives they had been given.
“Wait, fuck, what does that mean?” Devon suddenly interjected.
”It means you’re lucky I wasn’t the one sitting behind that door, pushing Macrodata Refinement to hit the numbers. She will live…” Miss Cobel slow tone only exaggerated the tension, Mark could feel it. He couldn’t get a break, he thought, just when he was free from Miss Cobel.
”Macro-what?” The brunette asked, her eyes narrowing. Miss Cobel looked at Mark expectantly, and he nodded shakily.
“Macrodata Refinement, the department I’m in.” He answered and Devon nodded.
“And Mark, here, is department chief. But the Board is done with MDR’s tomfoolery, Mark. You cannot buy time. You can’t pretend that they don’t notice your department roaming around halls and visiting other departments. The only reason why you’re alive, or why they even are, so much so, even interested in keeping you and your vagabond-like team is because they want to finish Cold Harbor. That decides Ms. Casey’s fate.” Sharp blue eyes stared down at him and he felt his fists clench.
“What— Ms. Casey was fired, wasn’t—“
“We both know, Mark.” She just stated. “And I may not be severed floor manager, but I know your team has been searching for her.”
”Ms. Casey is Gemma?” Devon asked, her voice shaky with emotion. Mark suddenly gazed back at her, and watch the depth of sadness wash in her eyes. “Harmony, could you please just…” She pursed her lips, as if holding back tears, “Please just tell us what’s going on.”
Mark hadn’t known grief. But he saw it in Devon’s eyes. Yet he knew what desperation was. He knew it in the way he’d done anything to get his team back. Including almost risking his life, contacting the Board to get his team back. The quick grief of losing his friends. The denial that they had to be somewhere. He had bargained with his own life get his team back. That was bargaining.
Devon was bargaining to get Ms. Casey— Gemma, back.
His outie was bargaining.
For a minute, Miss Cobel’s eyes softened. Mark had never seen that either.
“Did you know the most primitive form of severance was diethyl ether? It came from Kier’s very first ether mills, even before during the American Civil War.” Cobel started as she took out a small white cloth, almost bringing it close to her nose, taking a small whiff then looking back at Mark and Devon.
“It’s a drug. It’s surprisingly still in use, although not for severing purposes. It had an effect on factory workers. It gave them a kick, just enough to function, even when high, and once worn off, then worker would tend to forget his experience at work. Essentially severing oneself by a small usage of diethyl ether. I took that idea.” She continued.
“And where are we heading with—“
“My initial intention of creating severance was to separate a part of the mentality of a person.” Cobel cut Devon off, and her words made Mark and Devon freeze.
Harmony Cobel was behind severance?
”The part that creates grief. That creates hunger for eradicating that grief. Severance was not a ploy to create domicile, little worker bees, no. It was a work of art, to create the barrier between traumatic responses to grief, to see if the other one still feels what it’s like to lose.” She then stared coldly at Mark. He knew those last few words were about him.
“So—“ he shakily spoke, interjecting her story. “All the times, you sent me to Ms. Casey—“
“Yes, to see just how far the severance barriers can push themselves.” She answered, again cutting him off. “You have no idea of the pain Gemma causes in your outie’s veins. You carry it, at least physically. But mentally, it isn’t there.”
There’s a brief silence at that. Mark lets the words sink in deep. He didn’t grieve Ms. Casey— Gemma, whoever. He tried to find her because it was the right thing to do.
Ms. Casey wasn’t in his veins.
Helly was, he remembered.
Her fiery red hair, intricate, hazel-like, green lush eyes. Her confident personality and the way she’d walk so aggressively, that her red curls would bounce like good little soldiers. It had been a few hours since he’d last kissed her and he already was missing her.
Helly was in his veins, but she didn’t cause him any pain.
“There’s a floor below—“ Miss Cobel started again but Mark cut her off, this time.
”The floor that goes from the elevator in the black hallway?” Mark answered for her and her blue eyes widened, this time in surprise.
“I see your team is still frolicking around, mapping the severed floor.” She then curtly stated as Mark shrugged, almost angrily.
Irving had sacrificed himself to show that truth. It was not just ‘frolicking’. His best friend, an elder figure, the rock of his team had given himself up. Miss Cobel’s words had stung somewhere too deep.
”I mean, trapping us in an unknown box, expecting us not to find that out too, is kind of a new low, even for you Miss Cobel.” Mark commented, his expression angry against her aloof one, but her nostrils flared, giving him enough sign that she wasn’t going to take any other words.
“Anyways, the floor below you. It is the testing floor. Where we see how much can the severance barriers uphold. There are different rooms, for a person on a testing floor to go to. Each room will activate a different innie.” Cobel gravely stated getting up from her seat. “Each room being a perilous space. How much can that innie handle before passing insanity, Mark? And how much before that insanity finally reaches the outie? Or will it reach at all?” She started to approach Mark in a slow, predator-like cadence.
”All of those rooms have a name, here’s a few: Allentown, Sienna, Dranesville, Lucknow, Loveland, Wellington, St. Pierre, Zurich…” At this point Cobel was face to face with him. To the point he knew she could feel his panicked heartbeat, “…and Cold Harbor.” She finished. “Do they ring a bell, Mark?”
Mark stood there, frozen.
The names of the files they had been refining.
He didn’t know what they had been refining.
But all this time, they had been part of helping Lumon in their sick experiments. Towards people like them. Towards innies.
Mark felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to throw up.
”You asked me, once, ‘What do we exactly do down here?’…” Cobel continued to say. “You’ve got your answer, now. Now my question to you is, do you regret hearing that?”
She moved closer to him, then,
“And would it hurt to say Gemma had been down there all those years you’d been refining?”
He stayed silent.
Then he heard a small sniffle at the other side. There was Devon, her hand to her face, and the other hand on the table, her eyes, a storm of the calm they once were.
“How can we—…” His found her stop herself from the brink of collapse. “How do we get her back?”
“We don’t.” Cobel said, walking away from Mark but not losing eye contact. “Mark does.”
“Wait— what? I don’t even—“
“You’ll know Mark. The only way to save Gemma is to complete Cold Harbor. Then, when she will be going to the new room, you will go down the export’s hallway elevator and get her up. That is the only way you can access her, without giving yourself out. Without giving them too much time to chase after you. You will get Gemma from there, and out of Lumon.” The older woman said, with a sharp glint in her eyes. “You will break Lumon’s momentous day.”
“And what does that bring me?” Mark suddenly asked, making Cobel blink in surprise.
“What does that bring you?” She repeated the question.
“Yes, why should I go down there, risking myself?” His voice grew more sharp, as he asked the question.
“You get your wife, back.” Cobel simply answered. “That’s it.”
“She’s not my wife. She’s my outie’s wife.” He emphasised, her words cutting through the cold winter air. Devon looked at him with a mix of shock, and disbelief. “I don’t see a reason in getting her back, for him. She might be Gemma to you, but to me, she’s Ms. Casey, the wellness director, who my team is trying to find, not because she’s my outie’s wife but because it’s the right thing to do. So you tell me, why should I risk to get her back for him?”
“Mark, she is—“ Devon tried to reason.
“No, what does Cold Harbor mean for me and my family, Miss Cobel? Not my outie. Not his family. Me.” Mark cut Devon off as he approached Cobel, whose eyes creased in confusion, not stared at him coldly.
There was a haunting silence between the three of them. Mark felt a pit, deep in his very being, that the answer Cobel would say, would break him.
“Cold Harbor, Mark, means your death.” She openly said. “It mean’s MDR’s death.”
MDR’s death.
The word’s hung on his being, like chains on his hands, legs and neck, dragging his soul to the underworld.
Irving had went away. It didn’t take them a second to remove the friend he’d known for all his life.
So coldly, so cruelly. And in a minute of everything.
His mind flipped to Helly.
No, they couldn’t take Helly away from him.
Something which was finally his. Not something he had to share with his outie. But something that was his.
His first time. His first kiss. His first love. His first happy times. It was his. Helly was his.
The only thing that made his anywhere close to a person.
But he was a person.
They wanted him to get his outie’s wife, Gemma, whilst sacrificing his own love.
It was then when he realised how cruel the outside world truly was.
All of his life revolved around Mark Scout’s choices and decisions. His wants and grievances. He was too kind to forgive his outie for that.
His outie had brought him to this world without his permission. He had trapped him in a white box, like an animal, and forced him to obediently work away while it was his outie, that lived his pay-check. That enjoyed his endless toil. And now, there he was again with his outie’s sister, being told to sacrifice the identity he had built out of nothing his outie had given him.
He was a punching bag, he’d realised. His outie didn’t spare him from the pain, no. He always left him smelling like hungover in the morning, to work. He was his outie’s punching bag to hide from the pain.
Helly had been right about outies.
They only remembered them when it was something they needed.
And Devon.
She had been so kind to him when he told her about the state of innies down there. She had been so patient with what he said. She looked at him, not like how most people in his life did, she looked at him like he was a person.
Now, he doubted she even cared about him, until he’d said that Ms. Casey was alive.
That fake kind of kindness, he felt it for the first time. At least Helena had truly been warm to him, when she was posing as Helly, he remembered the first time he had been tricked.
“As if.” He scoffed.
“Mark, she is your wife. He has been reintegrating. You have been reintegrating.” Devon slowly spoke.
“What?”
”It’s a process that technically undoes severance. You’ll get his memories, he gets yours. You become one.” She answered. “I know it’s fucked up, but you will feel the love he had for Gemma… and that grief. If you get her back… you might be spared from that pain, Mark.”
God, how out of touch could she be?
Wasn’t he a person?
Those lines were a punch to his stomach. She hadn’t thought that he might’ve had a family down there, did she? Was he not expected to have people who unconditionally care for him and love him? Was he not deserving of that? Was he not worth enough?
And how dare his outie undo the very process he’d forced upon him, without even asking him. Erasing him away like he meant nothing. Like he was expected to have nothing.
“Spared from that pain?” He murmured. “He never spared me from that pain. That pain came in form of the work I had to do. That pain came in the form of me trapped on the severed floor, forced to live a life of work. My life has been two plus years and this is the second time, where I woke up, not forced to work, could you imagine that?” He threw his hands across, his pent up anger bubbling up.
“And now, he’s trying to erase my identity by reintegrating me, without my knowing. Do you think that’s fair? Am I not a person too?” He questioned, approaching Devon, who tried to open her mouth to say something but the words seemed to suck into her throat. “Does it even cross your mind, that maybe, maybe, I have real friends down there? A family? Sure, maybe, on a floor who’s white walls can drive anyone fucking crazy, but still, a real family?”
He then closed dangerously towards her, his eyes narrowing, his anger bleeding at the unfairness of it all, blurting out his next words.
“Don’t you think I have someone I love down there?”
Devon’s eyes widened at the prospect. “I—… Mark, I— I didn’t know—…” She stammered.
“Getting Gemma back would be good for you. But you want me to sacrifice the one real thing I have in my life, the one thing that belongs to me, not him, and no thanks to him, for a woman who’s love—and I’m sorry to say this—I’ve probably never known?”
”Mark, that’s enough.” Cobel finally interjected. Her icy eyes cold enough for him, to stop his anger-filled rant. “Your life is only till Cold Harbor.”
There was a chilling silence then, and Cobel gave Mark the most deathly stare he’d ever seen her give.
“There will be no honeymoon ending for you and Helly, Mark.”
The words stunned him. Like a viper swiftly attacking its prey, stunning them.
He felt his lips quiver.
Helly, his mind, his heart, his soul cried.
He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Without her touch, her beauty, her presence, her being…
No, this couldn’t be right.
He had found love and life in a sterile environment like Lumon’s severed basement floor.
He could make a honeymoon out of hell. For her it was worth it, she was worth caring about.
He didn’t care if she was Helena Eagan. Or Helly R.
He loved all versions of her. Equally. With all his might.
Because Helly was extraordinary. She loved to draw and sketch. She had a sassy, and a well-fired humour, matching her fiery red hair. She was stubborn in all the right ways, and she was never afraid to voice out what she disliked or liked. She was never afraid of burning. She was allergic to almonds and she loved overly sweetened and heavily-creamed coffees in the morning, which was a stark opposite to his bitter, black coffee. She absolutely adoredsticky-notes and every day she’d stick one just behind his back, just to get a laugh out of him. She smelled of rich pine and wood, not floral but sharp and so very Helly. And when she really laughed, she’d throw her head back and he’d carefully remember each crinkle of her eyes.
All those little things about her, made her extraordinary and he loved her. Helena or Helly.
She’d given him meaning. An identity.
He loves her, he thinks deeply.
Sadness burns into determination.
”I’m not getting Ms. Casey.” He said, in an angry murmur. “Not without getting Helly.” He firmly told them.
“Helena Eagan is not a woman, you want to frolic around with, and make love to, Mark.” Cobel, spoke her tone as apathetic as it had always been.
It was Devon who reacted it.
“Helena— what?” She exclaimed, her eyes wider than the baby goats in Mammalian Nurturable.
“I don’t care who she is outside.” He gritted his teeth, as the words dropped from his lips. “She’s Helly. And she’s important to me.”
“Mark—“ Devon put her hands on the back of her head. “She is the heiress of the company who’s holding your wife hostage. Holding you hostage. She’s cruel—“
”She’s not.” He cut her off, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. “Helly’s not. She doesn’t have a—… she doesn’t have a choice.” He murmured, his eyes darting down to the floor.
“She doesn’t have a choice. She told me.” He repeated softer, his eyes creasing, sniffling.
“I didn’t like who I was on the outside. I was ashamed.” Her voice echoed.
Her pursed his lips as he said the next words, directly looking at Devon’s eyes, which ranged from heartbreak to surprise to guilt.
“I love her.” He admitted, his vision blurring as he felt a lump in his throat. “She’s my whole world. She’s all I’ve got. Don’t make— don’t make me do this to her. Don’t take her away from me.”
Devon’s eyes softened at his words and she let out a stifled sigh. Her own eyes were troubled. Lost. He saw grief. He saw muted surprise. He saw reluctant acceptance.
She shook her head and looked down at the floor.
”Please, Mark.” She begged, but Mark couldn’t, he felt his soul being ripped apart.
”I would never do that to my Helly.” He swore it like an oath to the gods.
There was a tumultuous silence.
“You don’t have a choice, Mark.” Cobel cut the silence, as she walked towards one of the cabin windows, looking at the dark abyss. “You have only one day. You have to make a choice: your wife, who you could save…” She then turned to Mark, sharply looked at him. “Or try to save the nonexistent lives of yours and Helly’s which will eventually end away.”
Mark felt his breath strain as he curled his fists, against the cloth of his jacket. He watched as Cobel took a deep breath, her hands still holding that stained white cloth.
“Wouldn’t he feel the pain of losing Helly? A deeper grief if he’s reintegrating?” Mark shot, trying to make them see that innies deserved a chance. Helly deserved a chance.
She shook her head, aloof, from all the pain that had been thrust on him, walking past him and Devon. Almost pretending that all of the words she’d said, hadn’t changed the vision of his world.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” Devon called, despite her shaken up mood.
”Driving you around to this cabin wasn’t free. The least you can offer is a good dinner.” She rolled her eyes.
Mark didn’t care about food, however.
He cared about what she’d said before.
“We’re not children, Miss Cobel. We’re people.” Mark called out as she approached the staircase.
She stopped, and he watched the grip on the wooden stairway railing tighten, as she slowly and menacingly looked back at him.
“You’re part of the man who grieves his wife.” She sneered in a low voice, then left down the stairs, leaving him alone with Devon.
But he wasn’t.
He was the man who loved Helly. Who’d give anything up to watch her smile.
Silence engulfed him. He felt like he was drowning. A choice to make.
Helly was his first love. He would do anything for her. Take any fall for her. Sacrificing her felt impossible to do. He didn’t know about Gemma or Ms. Casey before Helly.
He felt his vision blur with tears.
He could let go off Helly.
He’d rather sacrifice himself before.
He let the water drown him as he closed his eyes.
He didn’t know what the sun looked like, but if there was anything closer to the sun, it was her. Helly.
He saw her, in his mind, walking into MDR. Time slowing down as she did. A playful smile glimmering across her lips. A exuberant twinkle in her eyes. Her laugh better than any music, he’d heard. She could slow down time.
Red hair like wildfire. Green eyes speckled with hazel stars.
I love you. He thought. Even if the world wouldn’t let me have you.
“Helly.” He murmured longingly.
Heaven.
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