The Trapeze Swinger

3.8

The ocean was a deep and rolling blue carpet across the surface of the world as the cyborg child piloted us high above it. It had been ten minutes since the final fading view of the pink island had disappeared from the horizon-line behind us, and I couldn't feel anything but loneliness as I tried to swallow back the thick and bitter sadness threatening to block my throat. All attempts at trying to elicit conversation from my companion had proved fruitless as I'd first tried to make small talk and then had dissolved into confessing the confusing array of emotions tugging for control of my mind.

"- and I guess it just comes down to the fact that I pretend to be brave but I'm not," I babbled at her, biting my nails to the quick as I stared out the cockpit window at the endless navy waves ahead, "Lou had all the bravery between us; without him I don't know if I even have the courage to live."

Without him I don't even know who I am. Without any of them I don't know who I am.

Cyborg Noodle continued piloting the aircraft without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement that I had spoken, and I sighed, feeling frustrated tears welling up hot in my eyes as I wished not for the first time that Murdoc had accompanied us on the flight. I could have put up with any amount of drawling insults and dry sarcasm if it had meant having someone to talk to. My mind was a chaos of hindsight and heartache, my inner voices of self loathing and self protection arguing nonstop until it felt as if the heat of their debate would drive me insane.

I bit my lip as I looked across at my sole companion, tracing the long barrel of the rifle strapped to her back before flicking my gaze over her utility vest and combat attire. She was functional and not much more; the bare bones of a means to an end.

"I suppose it makes sense that it had to be you that took me home," I mumbled into the wind, studying her youthful profile, "We're the same."

A sentry is just a soldier after all.

"We're both just following a set of instructions handed down by the men who made us."

Murdoc Niccals made the cyborg girl, but who made you, Sloane McLeod? Your brother? DeWitt? Stu?

I didn't know anymore, hugging my knees to my chest as I watched the other girl ignore me. Her black hair was flapping wildly in the draught, flicking across her vision sporadically until one of her small silicon hands lifted to irritably tuck it back under the communications headset she wore.
                  At the so oddly human gesture I jolted, sitting up a little straighter whilst I studied her intently. The small girl shifted in her seat, as if aware she was being watched, but made no other movements as she returned to her stock-still piloting.

Left to my thoughts once more, I tried to forget the cyborg beside me, waving away the ghost of a younger self that had stepped into the corner of my vision. The Sloane of the past was the one who'd known how to read people, who'd understood intention.
                  Until Stu. He'd blindsided me that first day, stepping into my path out of nowhere and leaving me unsure ever since. I'd tried so hard to read his intentions yet always ended up only further confused, still walking down the dark hallway with the rug constantly yanked out from under my feet. That night back in Eastbourne I thought he'd become my friend, only the next morning to discover him acting as nonchalant as ever. I'd thought he'd wanted me, yet he had made it clear he could never see me in that light. Now even after all this time I'd still been a fool today and imagined, just for a moment, that he loved me.

But darling, he did become your friend in the end. He did want you.

The quiet voice which spoke out within the bleakness of my mind made my stomach twist as if I had been run through with a knife, my hands flying to cover some imagined puncture wound as I shook my head viciously at the thought.