Chapter Text
30 Jan 2029 11:24PM
Reggie —
I don’t know if this is the right address. I hope so. Marcus gave it to me.
It’s been a long time. Too long. M & Sitara tell me you’re in London. I got back in touch with them recently. So. I thought I might try you, too.
I’m in the Netherlands—Haarlem, to be exact. Got a fellowship to teach some writing workshops here. “It’s free money from the government!” Remember that guy, with all the question marks? Yeah. Anyway, it’s not exactly government but good as. They just hand you these jobs once you publish a few books. Like there’s any shortage of people writing books. But hey, I finally did it. Top of the world, ma… Been here a few months. Doing a lot of bicycling and coffee drinking and smoking weed—the national pastimes in Holland.
M&S said you’re doing some tech work there? And that you got married... wow. Congrats. I mean it. I want you to be happy.
Okay, I really don’t know what to fucking say except… I’m sorry for the way things ended.
Being brutally fucking honest: I wanted to let things go, let you go, and I did. At least… I thought I did. But you’ll always be a part of who I am. A big part.
I hope you’re good. Tell me you’re good. The things we hear from London are pretty damn scary.
If you ignore this message, I’ll understand. I’ll hate it to pieces, but I’ll understand.
Allison
(you can still call me nana if you want)
*
1 Feb 2029 3:47AM
Subject: Re:
Allison—
Yeah, this is the right address. Pretty sure Marcus made me swear some kind of “don’t be an asshole” oath before handing it over.
It has been a long time. Longer than it should’ve been, probably. Not gonna lie, seeing your name pop up in my inbox hit me like a punch to the solar plexus. The good kind. The kind that makes you wanna puke but also laugh because—holy shit—you.
I’m in London, yeah. Not sure what M&S actually told you, but “tech work” is a cute way to put it. Let’s just say I have… concerns about who’s watching this email. But you know me—living the dream, getting paid to be a thorn in the side of corporate dickheads. Except now the corporate dickheads have guns, drones, and zero sense of humor. Good times.
Haarlem, huh? You on a bicycle right now? Just coasting through the rainy-ass Dutch streets, sipping coffee and feeling superior? Sounds like you. And sounds like you made it. I always knew you would. A fellowship? Books? That’s some serious top-of-the-world shit. I hope you’re proud of yourself, because I sure as hell am.
So… you heard. Yeah. I got married. Then, uh, I got un-married. Let’s just say Zane and I weren’t built for longevity. Shit happens.
You’re sorry for the way things ended? Me too. And I don’t just mean how—I mean that they did at all. But you made your choice. You needed space, and I didn’t know how to be anything but there. And I was pissed about that for a long time.
But I guess if I’m being brutally fucking honest… I still think about you. More than I should. And now here you are.
London is bad. But I’m fine. Mostly. (I know, reassuring, right?) It’s not exactly the place for nostalgia, but I wouldn’t mind hearing your voice again.
— Wrench
(or Reggie. Whatever.)
*
1 Feb 2029 12:18PM
Subject: Re:
Wrench—
I understand your concerns about who’s listening in. You don’t want to use this address? Just point me wherever. I can still run a proxy, or at least access one. Some things you can’t unlearn. It’s like riding one of these damn Dutch bicycles.
Speaking of riding bikes— “sipping coffee and feeling superior? Sounds like you.” That’s how you see me? Damn. I guess I’m due some lashing out from you. Doesn’t mean I like it.
Tell me where to get in touch. Because I have things to say, and ask (like, why the fuck did you get married, not that it’s my business, but I’m a curious girl when it comes to you. Always was).
-A
*
1 Feb 2029 5:03PM
Subject: Re:
A—
Nah, not lashing out. Just picturing you there, all smug and literary, legs elegantly crossed at some canal-side café, and it makes me… I dunno. Miss you? Miss the way you exist in the world? That annoying-ass way you always knew what you wanted and went for it.
But I don’t resent you. Not anymore.
If you wanna talk off-grid, let’s go old school. I spun up a secure chat. Use this link, drop your alias (the funnier, the better, for nostalgia’s sake). It’ll self-destruct after you log in the first time. If you’re still sharp, you’ll know what to do.
[Encrypted Link]
And about the marriage? Yeah, I figured you’d ask. Let’s just say I was trying to be something I wasn’t. It was good at first. But I was still carrying around a you-shaped ghost, and you can’t build something new on top of an old foundation without tearing it down first. Guess I didn’t do enough demolition.
Tell me you’ll use the link.
— W
*
usr:B173_M3 secure access @ 7:18PM
I think I did this right. Name good enough for you?
Sorry. Maybe I was feeling the lash even when you weren’t giving it. Or just expecting it. I have a lot to be sorry for. I am sorry that things ended. It was stupid. We were stupid. (We BOTH were. Don’t deny that)
Things not working out—I get it. Believe me. I’ve tried a couple times and yeah. Here I am. Alone, and I don’t think it’s melodramatic to say haunted. Okay, maybe it is but you always liked that about me. Back then.
You were never more trouble than you were worth, but you were a lot of fucking trouble. (I’m saying it was always worth it. I think it still is)
What is going on in London? With you, specifically? I tried to dig but all I get is this Rempart company. It’s like LVMH but for terror weapons. That’s not you.
Are you okay?
*
usr:r3tch_sm4sh secure access @ 7:34PM
Okay, first of all—B173_M3? You do still know me. That one made me laugh, and that’s a hell of a thing these days.
Yeah, we were stupid. I won’t deny it. I was just extra stupid because I thought we were forever. And before you say anything—I know, I know. That wasn’t fair. You had shit to do. You wanted more. But I didn’t know how to be left behind, and I didn’t know how to follow you either. So we wrecked each other instead.
You’re haunted? Yeah. Same. Except my ghosts shoot back.
And you’re right—Rempart? That ain’t me. But I was tangled up with them for a while. Bad decision, worse contract. Let’s just say they liked my skills, and I needed… a purpose. Or maybe a distraction. So I built shit for them. Not my proudest moment, but when you’re drowning, you grab whatever keeps you afloat.
But that’s over. I’m working on getting out of this city before it eats me whole. Albion’s turned London into a goddamn war zone, and DedSec here? They got balls, but they’re outnumbered, outgunned, and somehow still swinging. I’ve been helping, off the record. But the clock’s running out.
So nah, A. I’m not okay. But I’m still standing. And now you’re here, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m standing alone.
…You thinking about sneaking in?
*
usr:B173_M3 secure access @ 9:59PM
Sneak in? I’m considering it. How, though? Everything I hear is rancid—new visas are nonexistent, immigration is fucked. You know anyone who can get me in?
But I do want to see you again. Need to make sure… that you’re okay.
Listen—I know you thought we were forever. So did I. But at the same time… I was older than you (still am, for the record). And I was worried, in a stupid way, that I was holding you back. Looking back, it was dumb as fuck. But I’m (even) older now and maybe a little wiser. And I’m sorry. I fucked up.
I guess reaching out to you was… my little spark of hope that I could right an old fuck up.
*
usr:r3tch_sm4sh secure access @ 10:21PM
If you’re even thinking about sneaking in, that’s proof you haven’t changed as much as you think.
Getting in? Yeah, I might know a guy. DedSec’s got ways. Some messier than others. But you’re high-profile in your world—we’d need to do this quiet, smart. No one wants your face on an Albion watchlist.
And I don’t know if I’m okay, A. That’s the part I can’t figure out. Some days, I feel like I’m still me. Others… I feel like I’m just a mask on a mask on a mask, and I don’t even know what’s underneath anymore.
But if you’re trying to right old fuck-ups? You’re not the only one.
I want to see you too. Let me talk to my people. And Allison—if you do this? You better be sure. This city eats people alive. And I couldn’t take losing you again.