Media Relations

## Meta

**Timing:** shortly after Jackson and Logan arrive at the Sydney Shatterdome

**Setting:** random Shatterdome office

## Text

The [Uniform] in front opens a nondescript door and holds it for Charlie.

Two chairs on either side of a table.

"Have a seat, Mrs Darling," says the [Uniform] to her left.

She stifles a huff, strolls to the far chair, and has a seat.

The [Uniform]s tilt their stupid hats, close the door.

Charlie pulls apart their stupid SUV.

A minute after they leave, the door opens again.

A [Uniform] tilts their hat.

Two more [Uniform]s escort Jackson to the other chair.

They tilt their hats, leave, and close the door.

"Jones."

"Firefly."

"What is it this time—"

"Thank you for coming," Jackson recites. "The PPDC would like to ask for your cooperation in the ongoing war against the Kaiju. Please refraining from speaking with the media without prior consultation with PPDC Public Relations." He glances up behind Charlie's head.

Charlie does, too.

A camera refocuses on her.

She turns back around.

Jackson adds, "Or there will be consequences."

[Charlie scoffs.

Jackson sighs, fishes a slip of paper from a pocket, slides it over to Charlie. "That's the contact for our Handler. He can get a hold of whoever you need."

"Like you?" Charlie pockets the card.

Jackson smiles weakly, rubs his neck. "I don't know. I don't know what his orders are."

"This sucks."

A nod and a shaky exhale from Jackson. "Firefly, we need to drop the idea of you and the beans living on-base."

"Wha? Why?"

"Because Chuck Hansen."

Charlie blinks. "Make sense, Jackson."

Jackson scrubs his face. "Because if the beans are here, the Corps has unlimited access to them and they'll make them into little soldiers. It's what they did to Chuck Hansen. Maybe other kids, too."

Charlie sets her jaw.

"They're /**never** doing that to our kids. Even if—" Swallows. "—Even if I never get to see them again."

"Okay." Charlie covers Jackson's hands with hers. "We'll stay put."

Jackson's posture eases. "How're the beans?"

"They're—"

The door opens, two Uniforms step through—

Jackson startles.

—grip Jackson's shoulders.

Jackson curls in on himself.

"Your time's up, Mrs Darling," declares a Uniform.

They haul Jackson to his feet.

He twists around, calls, "Love you, Firefly."

A Uniform scruffs Jackson, shoves him out.

They close the door.

Charlie pries her fingers from the edge of the table.

She pulls apart the stupid Uniforms.

A minute after they take Jackson away, two more Uniforms enter, tilt their stupid hats.

"Please come with us, Mrs Darling. We'll escort you home."

Charlie huffs, lets them lead her through the halls, to the garage, into a stupid black SUV. They drive her home, walk her to the front door, tilt their stupid hats, and climb back into their stupid SUV.

~\*\*\*~

Charlie straps her bag to Hush, slots her key in the bike lock.

"Mrs Darling!"

Charlie turns.

A smartly-dressed brunet wearing trendy glasses, runs up, slightly breathless. "Mrs Darling, I'm so happy to have caught you! I'm Josephine Shelley, she-her-hers, from /*The* /*Sydney* /*Morning* /*Herald*." Offers a business card.

Charlie frowns, takes hold of Hush's handlebars.

Shelley lowers her voice, "I know something's hinky with your husband's recruitment by the PPDC. I'm working on a story that will expose PPDC wrongdoing."

Charlie chews her lip.

"I can help, Mrs Darling." Shelley smiles encouragingly. "There's a quiet restaurant around the corner where we can talk."

Charlie takes a deep breath, relocks Hush, picks up her bag, tilts her head to Shelley.

Shelley beams, steps lightly along the sidewalk.

Charlie plods behind.

~\*\*\*~

Charlie's mobile chirps 'stranger'.

She thumbs it on.

""Incoming call from Ranger Jackson Jones,"" intones a synthetic voice. ""Will you accept?""

"/**Yes!**"

""Firefly,"" wobbles Jackson, ""'m so sorry.""

"Jackson, what—"

""'m not coming home this weekend.""

"/**What?!** They /**promised**! Why not?"

A shaky breath. ""Th-they say you talk to a reporter 'bout me and this's the consequence.""

Charlie's blood turns to ice. "Jackson ... I'm so sorry. I-I thought she would help."

Silence.

"I'm sorry, Jackson. It won't happen again."

A beat. ""I really fucking hate this. I want to come home.""

"We know. We love—"

Dial tone.

"Jackson?"

Charlie glares at her mobile, slams it against her desk.

Presses her palms against her forehead.]