01 - Welcome to Alpha 9

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

[She hesitates, glancing around, immobile, taking in the details before she pulls her gun and thumbs the safety off, pointing it at the... invisible floor. Right. She checks her head for cuts, makes sure she's dressed. Not one of those dreams at least.] I must have... I fell asleep at my desk. It figures, Creegan. It figures I can't even get away from you in a dream--of course not. You could at least be naked.

[he's not looking at her, taking in the endless stars and, well, lack of floor] Ooh, sexual harassment. I'm telling on you to Hank. Don't think this is a dream. Don't think this is your dream. Might be my dream. How come you get to be the real one anyway?

[he starts wandering away] So whaddaya think? Alpha 9?

[Her shoulders sag and he throws her head back as though praying for patience from some distant power.] Oh god. Don't even--just don't. This is not reality. This is not real. Reality is you stripping in the middle of a crowded airplane while reciting William Blake. This is--I don't know what this is, but it isn't that.

[casually] Alright, well if it's not reality, what is it? You're here, I'm here. Mass hallucination? I've had hallucinations and this...this doesn't feel right. And don't you think you're focusing a bit too much on me being naked? If this is your dream Mr. Freud is probably patting himself on the back somewhere.

[Exasperation. Way to familiar and comfortable a feeling where he's concerned to be a dream.] Well when you're half-dressed or, or not every other time I see you it's sort of hard not to make it a.. a focal-- where are you going, Creegan.

[Over his shoulder,] I’m investigating! It’s what I do.

Okay. Fine. Not a hallucination--I'll take your word on that. [She rubs her face.] If this is how Cyril feels every time he wakes up... [She shakes her head and stares out at the plane. And the... 1930s theater, forest, and coliseum that fall one by one into her field of vision.] Remind me to buy him a coffee or something next time I see him.



[[MAJOR THREADHOPPING WILL HAPPEN, LOLS. Branca will be on Creegan's ass the minute they start meeting people. JUST A WARNING.]]

Comments

[didorothy]

[he's watching carefully, but he'll ignore that]

Just sit and calm down. Think of something safe. [puts his hands on her shoulders] Think of something you're comfortable with.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

Comfortable with? I'm comfortable with a world that has rules, that makes sense, not one where, where a man from the show I watched as a kid shows up and offers me biscuits!

[didorothy]

Try having your DCI start 'boshing nonces' in Camberwick Green.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

[Blank look.] I can't even imagine Hank watching Camberwick Green.

[didorothy]

I try not to think about it.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

Yeah. Well. If I try not to think about this place, do you think it'll go away?

[didorothy]

Doesn't work, trust me. You're best off just accepting it as a hallucination you should really treat as real. And after about six months you'll drop the 'hallucination' bit.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

No, I'll end up like Cyril, sharing a motel room with Creegan and talking about Alpha 9.

[didorothy]

What's 'Alpha 9'? Sounds like Code Nine From Outer Space.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

It's Plan Nine. Plan Nine From Outer Space. And--no, you know what, it doesn't matter. Cyril's just.. he's a friend of Creegan's.

[didorothy]

Sorry for not knowing my B Movies.

Right, that doesn't mean anything and we both know it. But don't tell me if you don't like.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

It's... Alpha 9. It's... [Facepalm.] Cyril is a paranoid schizophrenic, all right? He thinks Earth is a dream and when he's asleep he's on Alpha 9 and that, to him, is real.

[didorothy]

Maybe they're both real.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

[Too tired to argue.] I'm Agent Susan Branca, by the way. Of the OSC. Sorry... about, about the punch.

[didorothy]

FBI, then? DI Sam Tyler, as I said. Police, UK, Manchester, CID, A Division. Under DCI Gene Hunt, who has done enough damage to my gut that I can't bring myself to hold the punch against you.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

Yes, FBI.

...I never noticed how many acronyms there were before.

[didorothy]

"Three IC1 males" and all that. Apparently we like our acronyms.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

Puts the world under nice little labels. Don't have to deal with it. [Sort of giving the plane a 'lol, mentally dead' look.]

[didorothy]

Or that it's quicker in an emergency situation. [logs away her interpretation away as a point on her character]

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

[Shakes herself out of it.] Or... or that. [Gives him a tired smile.] So, is there an acronym for this place? Or does it not count as an emergency situation?

[didorothy]

It's a slow emergency. And there's not much shorter than 'The Plane.' We could go AP for Astral Plane but I think just 'the Plane' works.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

Astral Plane. [Tiny half-laugh.] Well. It makes sense, at least.

[didorothy]

Dunno if you like a drink, but there's a bar here that refills itself, if you want a pint.

--Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to be helping with any bad habits.

[lockedinglass.livejournal.com]

No. Yeah. Actually, actually yes. A drink... I think would be good.