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[retested]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, AMANDA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 102.92.004.06 *** gameover has joined 102.92.004.06 <gameover> This is Amanda. <gameover> If you need to contact me, do so here. <gameover> DO NOT waste my time with stupid shit.

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[inseine]

[Javert turns around and looks her full in the face. He studies her carefully as if seeing her for the first time, her ruined expression, the darkness in her eyes, the tears spilling down her cheeks. And he receives them all with a dire calm, his own regrets buried beneath a veneer of icy emotionlessness. A very small piece of him admires her ferocity, but that part is consumed wholly by his busy self-deprecations.

She is another that is stuck beneath Aunamee's bony thumb, isn't she.

Of course, a Pig. Oink, oink. He deserves no better a moniker. It is no coincidence that the pig statuette modeled after himself sits on a high-up shelf, staring, frozen, into a happy void.

Javert nods, stilted, never breaking his gaze.]

I am listening.

WHAT A FABULOUS ICON | CW: heroin, prison abuse, police corruption

[retested]

[It has nothing to do with Aunamee, though Javert has no way of knowing that. Pigs is the way John had thought of his test subjects. It's how Amanda's thought of cops ever since Detective Matthews had planted heroin on her when she'd never touched the stuff in her life, got her locked away for years on a charge she was wholly innocent of, and eventually drove her into the arms of the drug when she had no other way to escape the abuse she faced behind bars. So what else is she supposed to call Javert, this son of a bitch cop who even John would despise for driving her to this point? He'd stuck Matthews in a game in return for everything the detective had done to Amanda, and if he were here to see this he'd spare no sympathy for Javert, either.]

Good. Because I'm not gonna repeat myself.

[She forces herself to stand taller again, faking a confidence she doesn't actually feel, but as her full height is a mere 5'2" that's not saying a whole hell of a lot.]

I'll cooperate with you. For Her sake and her sake alone. I've given her every cell in my body and that's never gonna change.

But we're not friends. We're never gonna be friends, motherfucker. I hate you. You disgust me. And if you use what happened here against me...if you spill any of this...I don't give a shit that we're on the same side, I'll fuckin' kill you. Are we clear?

Thank Tal2!

[inseine]

That would be your right to take.

[For all the atrocities Javert has committed, all the blood he's shed by his own hands -- he was never a bad cop. He doesn't remember it this way, because every single one of his human memories (the ones that remain, for they are all nothing but slivers and fragments now that he is left to piece together into an incoherent whole) are mired in a thick black stain. Where he once cast himself as a righteous hero, he has recast as the villain; what he once thought was probity and following the letter of the law, he now sees in himself as nothing better than selfishness and crude ambition and unwillingness to see beyond the written word.

If he knew what she was thinking, he would take the insults, and resolutely agree with every word.

That isn't what would endear him to her, that's for sure.]

Nothing leaves this room. I swear to you upon my death-scars and my blood, and upon my duty to Her, that not a word shall slither off. Not even of our agreement to our mutual allies.

[He lowers his head in a tilt, eyes half-lidded.]

Unless you wish it.

Furthermore, heft the blame in my direction for whatever credit you are unwilling to take, and take only that which you want. I don't mind.

[retested]

[It has better not slip to any allies she doesn't specify first, she thinks, because she trusts a handful of her Fog associates about as far as she can throw them. AM is of course the first to come to mind.]

Aunamee and Noa--if he's still here--can know. About our agreement. Not the other shit.

[The only blame Amanda's willing to take right now consists of beating herself up for being so pathetic that Javert could drive her to such ruin so easily. She'll make herself pay for this weakness later, of that there's no doubt. Incapable of getting and keeping her emotions under control, she lives a self-inflicted penance for it that will never end. Her emotion is also her weakness, John had once said of her, when he still harbored hope that she might one day overcome it. Too bad for the both of them that his "cure" had only made it exponentially worse, leading directly to both their deaths.]

Don't contact me again unless it's about the plan. [Her voice devolves into a watery croak once more.] Apart from that, you can go fuck yourself.

[One day, they may be able to move past this. Right now it's far too raw, too fresh, for her to even consider it.]

[inseine]

[Already done, Javert thinks to himself bitterly. He has fucked himself over quite thoroughly with this debacle.

Outwardly, Javert bows his head in a curt, yet respectful, nod. Perhaps later, when the stifling whirlwind of feeling has loosed their grips, they may look back on this exchange more clearly, more rationally. For now, all there is is one half of the party damning herself for her weakness, and the other half damning himself for his blindness. Self-absorption, always prepared to sabotage the best of attempts at outreach.

Amanda is fortunate that secrets are safe with Javert. He is far too principled, far too honest about his peculiar flavor of service to the Fog to ever disclose what transpired between them. She will find out before long, when the dust as settled, just how far he is willing to go to strengthen their cooperation with one another.]

Noted. I will leave you to your own devices. You will know it when the plan is ready for the next step up.

Rest well, and take comfort in the fact that I am apparently quite practiced in the art of getting myself screwed over.

[retested]

[Amanda nods. It's all she can give him by way of a response; if she were to open her mouth again, she'd probably say something she'd regret before too long. Then she turns on her heel and stomps her way out of his house, slamming the front door closed behind her.]