Chapter Text
Henry Stickmin sat on his bed with a single thought looping around in his head, over and over, not dissimilarly to the last words he ever heard from his childhood friends, never knowing to cherish them, never learning the fleeting nature of everything around him just quite yet.
Ad Infinitum.
Something his ancient history had mentioned off hand a few years back, before the heist, before the diamond, before he decided that the path he was on was the one he wanted, ad infinitum Mr. Stickmin, for forever.
It hadn’t stopped since he heard Charles’s final words, over and over and over, ad Infinitum, ever renewing, that’s what he had wished for hadn’t he? An infinite number of chances, an infinite and consequence-less existence? Where he could steal and never be held accountable, where he could live forever, stealing again and again anything of value? Kind of ironic then, wasn’t it?
The middle of his room held a schematic disk, stolen from the pod he landed in. He couldn’t stop pulling it up to read the ships plans over and over again, if they had just kept walking through the corridor- or if they had taken a right in the vents- or if they-.
It stopped mattering when all he was left with was a pair of red headphones, not even Charles’s favorites. His bed room table was still filled with the thousands of little nick-nacks he had pick pocketed since that first heist. He knew he still had to organise them, a million dollars or more on that table alone, there were more in the safes, hidden in cardboard cereal boxes, in emptied cans, in the mattress. More money than he knew what to do with. It didn’t matter though, did it? He’d give it all just for a second chance to-
He turned his back to the table, a bitter expression on his face, holding tightly to a glass full of vodka. He’d lost count of how many he had. ad infinitum, load of good that did.
His neighbor was arguing with his wife again. He never did understand why people were married, his parents never seemed happy in their marriage, always citing Henry as the reason they stayed together, you need a mother and father Henry, you’ll grow up wrong otherwise Henry, why are you with those people Henry? They’re not right Henry, they’re a bad influence Henry, you’ll become one of those homo-
His vision went red, glass shattered on the opposite wall and the incessant arguing finally stopped.
It was finally quiet.
The drafts that normally sang through his apartment were nowhere to be found.
It was dead silent.
“ Henry!? I thought you were dead!”
Stop.
“We make a great team, don’t we?”
Please.
“Actually, This calls for some action!”
His voice was so, so warm...
“It’s fine, I’ll find another pod”
Please please please please-
“All according to pl-” stop stop Stop St-
A flash of brilliant light in the dark abyss, stars dissapearing.
Silence.
It was two am again and Henry’s head was blank. Empty. He couldn’t breathe. He. Couldn’t. Breathe.
Ad infinitum, he had promised Charles that, hadn’t he? To team up with him forever? To stay with him? What a fucking joke.
Crescent shaped cuts marred his palm, his nails piercing deeper as he forced his breathing stable, in for four, hold for six, out for eight, come on Henry his school councilors voice came unbidden.
When his head finally fell silent he was greeted to the sun creeping into his room, the floor glittered. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
The morning was quiet. Far, far too quiet.
--
It took till late afternoon for him to grow sober again, or atleast sober enough to think. There was a cold aching grip around his stomach and though it grumbled irritably he knew he didn’t have the energy to eat today.
He was still waiting on Charles’s social call, even though it had been months since the last one, since “take a break Mr. Stickmin”
The break was meant to be over soon, the General knew he owed them nothing, less than even.
He waited for the call, he waited for the inevitable training after, that burn that forced his head blank. Better than the alcohol did anyway. He’d tried drugs in the first month, the meth made him floaty but didn’t stop his beautiful, soft voice from permeating through, acid left him drenched in soft skin, warm laughter, infinite kindness-, molly meant a night’s respite. Silence, though his head rung and his skin felt like a thousand bugs were running under it at any given time, his blood would run hot on it.
He took more and more as it started to lose its effects, he would have kept going if it didn’t end up with him in the hospital and the General threatening to cut him off from the army permanently. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing that part of Charles too. And so he stopped, he hadn’t fallen that deep into the snake pit anyway.
That was a lie, but he'd always been good at lying.
Even now he craved it, more than water or food, just to drown out that flash.
The final seconds before Charles’s favorite headset went silent. Oh dear! his mother’s giggling voice remarked in his head he keeps losing his things Mr.Watson! Whatever will I do with him?
He missed her. So very much. She was so much warmer when his father wasn’t home.
Her face flashed through his head again, soft and smiling, then pale and glassy eyed, mouth open wide in a scream as the beams from the truck ahead of them pierced right above her left breast. The beams weren’t tied correctly your honor their lawyer had said at the trial employee error.
Ad infinitum. It wasn’t truly infinite, was it?
The ring startled him out of his head, he brought the receiver to his ear, he didn’t need to, it was on speaker but old habits and all that.
“Mr. Stickmin, we need you back at base at the soonest opportunity, we’ve found the last of the toppats's allies. The Rübins,” There was a second or two of silence, before a shaky breath “We feel you should see this through.” the click as the message ended went unheard by him.
His palm bled again.
He felt a hysterical giggle build at the back of his throat, not that he could voice it, it had left him. No matter how hard he tried, he could barely push more than a grunt past the ever present lump in his throat. Fitting that he would lose that too, wasn’t it?
He grabbed his car keys on his way out, he’d break in if he needed to later, there wasn’t time to waste.
Thousands of little occurrence’s ran though his head on his way. The miniscule touches as Charles passed him some hot chocolate from his thermos after they saw each other again in the snow. The soft giggles he’d give whenever Henry'd whisper wry commentary on new cadets to him on their way to the General’s. The nights he’d convinced Charles to stay over at his place, the drinking and the stories that came after. The laughter as Charles recalled his time as an officer, before he became a pilot, an agent, the little mischievous things he had given as punishments.
The year they spent working on tiny assignments together before the fucking mission.
It was the longest anyone had stayed, save for his parents. They didn’t stay all that much longer anyway.
For once it didn’t fill him with longing, regret, instead a bit of peace. It felt closer to what he imagined when people described life flashing before their eyes, he wanted more. He should have known better than to ask for more. Ad infinitum.
Maybe he didn’t need to break his promise after all.
He could stay forever with him, if they were allies of the toppats they were bound to be armed. It wouldn’t take much effort to make a sacrificial play.
Maybe he could have forever, just this once.
--
The tents were just as tall as he remembered, perfect lines of dirty white and tan tents with clean streets between them, empty. It was the middle of the day, they would be running through drills right about now.
The general’s tent was marked with subtle star shaped embroidery, nothing fancy, simple, single strain lines. Unnoticeable to those who didn’t know what to look for.
None of the officers stopped him, they remembered him from the mission, remembered the broken face of a soldier who’d seen battle a few too many times.
Henry vaguely wished he had gotten to know Charles’s friends better, had gone to them to apologize and learn more of him. Too little to late he supposed.
The General greeted him with little fanfare, eyes barely glancing up before shooting back down to paperwork as if burned. He didn’t blame him, Henry was quite sure he looked like hell.
“Mr.Stickmin” The General greeted, shifting aside his work with a bare whisper of paper. “you’ve come to answer our call”
Henry’s eyes were blank, he’d long since slipped into autopilot, he’d likely end everyone in this camp if asked. He couldn’t voice the thought though so instead he gave the General a simple nod.
There was a beat.
“Good!... good. Alright,” he pulled out a topograph with a thin grid on it, marked from one till seven and A till D, Henry stepped forward without needing to be asked, startling the General with the cold glint in his eye. The General cleared his throat before pointing to a mountain range “Their main base is about at the base of the Applion mountains, we’ve scouted out about twenty confirmed members, maybe as many as forty. A small crew is being sent out to disperse a sleeping agent throughout the ventilation, we need someone skilled to…" he waved his had vaguely "subdue anyone that doesn’t succumb”
The General chanced a glance up, feeling cornered. He’d seen the things Henry had taught Mr.Calvin prior to their mission, even the pen next to his paperwork felt like he'd handed a gun to a staunch enemy.
“So?”
With a silent glance up, Henry nodded to the General. He’d do this, to finally complete the mission that Charles had started then...Well, then came after that. He’d see to it. It wasn’t worth risking this mission for a sacrificial play.
He guessed that would be then
“A-alright. We’ll be Heading out in the morning.” The General tucked the pen neatly between his thumb, fore and middle finger, ready to write “Dinner will be delivered to you at nine, Jacksonn! Take Mr.Stickmin to a tent”
“Yessir!”
Henry didn’t have the energy to fight back against the rest order at that moment. He’d need it all the next day.
Ten came and left in a flash, he was able to shovel half of his portion before it made him feel sickly, light headed. He laid down.
He needed this off his conscience.
Maybe it would be like how he dealt with his mother’s passing. Where he went half mad, convinced that he had to sue the company that led to her death blind and then join her before it settled. Before he’d go numb and empty. Before he made the mistake of letting someone else in all over again, because he never did seem to learn the first time. Did he?
He turned away from the tent opening, as though it would let him hide away from his prying thoughts. He felt his eyes drift shut, he’d need the energy.