Break

## Meta

**Timing:** begins about 31 hours after Jackson is abducted

**Setting:** DriftSci Central, Kodiak, Alaska

## Text

Logan blinks awake, takes a deep breath, points his toes as he stretches his arms over his head.

A creak from below as Jackson shifts restlessly.

"You awake?"

"Mhmm." Croaks, "Din't really sleep."

Logan slides off his bunk, lands in a crouch quietly as a cat. Plunks himself on Jackson's mattress.

Jackson grunts, sits up.

"Remember when Mum and Dad sent me to that camp?"

"Hard to forget." Scrubs his face. "Did as much good as all those stays in jail, ay?"

"Wasn't all bad." Logan shrugs. "Learned some new tricks. Like how this—" Encompasses the 'room'. "—works."

"An' how's that?"

"Would you call this a bedroom or a cell?"

"Second one."

"'zactly. Bland walls, bland beds, everything standard-issue."

"You gotta be so gleeful?"

Logan grins, ribs him. "I'm /**finally** better than you at something."

Jackson swats him away. "We've been kidnapped and conscripted and /**that's** what you're thinking about?"

"Brain's not 'right', remember?"

Jackson gets that tilt to his chin.

"This how you feel all the time?"

Jackson sighs, "I feel proud when I'm good at something, but I try not to gloat about it." He nods at the room. "So what do we do—what will they do and how do we ...." Shrugs. "Stop it. Get out. Not—" Gestures. "—whatever."

"They want ... a soldier. But you're not a soldier, so they'll do their best to break you down and make you into one."

Jackson crumples inward, drops his head to his hands.

"'s probably why they took your ring right off. They want to separate you from everything that, uh, /**defines** you."

Nothing from Jackson.

"Which starts with your family. Which I got back for you in a stunning display of physical prowess."

"Right." Jackson takes a deep breath, sits straight. "Thanks for that."

Logan preens. "You're very welcome."

A beat of silence.

"What do they take from you?"

Logan sighs. "My one P.M. wake-up call."

"Of course." Jackson rolls his eyes. "So. What do we do?"

"Play along. Do what they want, say 'yessir' all polite, and wait 'em out. You've got the edge because you know what they're after and they think they're getting it—"

The lights flick on.

"—but they've got no /**clue** what /**you're** really playing at."

"And that's why you're still—"

"The one and only Logan Jones," he says with a mocking bow.

Jackson snorts.

The lock slides back.

"Right on time." Logan stands, stretches. "If we're lucky, we're about to catch some breakfast and showers."

The door opens.

One Uniform, two guards in the background.

"Mornin', officer," greets Logan.

The Uniform throws two tan bundles of cloth onto Jackson's bunk. "Get changed." Slams the door.

Logan shakes one out.

A tank top and underwear fall to the floor.

"Drone gear. Yay." Looks at the tag. "/**Labelled** drone gear." Grins. "Aren't we lucky."

Jackson pokes at his. "Will they do anything with our stuff? Laundry?"

Logan snorts, pulls off his shirt. "Probably burn them." Yanks on the tank top.

Jackson chokes.

"I'd keep your socks close." Logan tosses his aside.

Jackson's eyes are huge and kinda shiny.

"C'mon, Jack, get with it." Shimmies into his jumpsuit.

"I'm gonna freeze."

"I get you a new jumper. Steal it if I have to."

Jackson starts on his trousers, albeit at a glacial pace.

"I give them three more minutes."

Jackson gets the zipper, works at pulling them off.

"They're absolutely terrible when you keep them waiting."

If anything, Jackson slows down. Definitely withdraws, at any rate.

"They /**will** march you down the hall in your shorties."

Jackson comes to a full and complete stop.

"C'mon, Jack!"

Jackson's on his feet, eyes blazing. "Would you just—!" Shuts down again.

"Them, coming. Let's go."

"Just give me a second."

"You don't want that."

"Kinda freaking out here, Logan."

"Why?"

"Why?!" Jackson's all fire. "Why? Because I've never been in prison—"

"This isn't prison—"

"I'm scared, I'm cold, I have no idea where I am—" Shudders. "—Because Charlie lays my clothes out in the morning while I get the beans ready and she swaps our jumpers on purpose and this colour looks really nice on her and I miss her and I haven't talked to her in who knows how long—"

"Thirty-one hours."

"—and she's gotta be worried sick and my kids were left alone and I don't know if they're okay and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it!"

"Okay, so, valid points. But get changed."

Jackson charges—

Logan pins him still. "Jack, I am trying to help—"

Jackson wrenches free. "Fuck you and fuck changing!"

"Jack, my brain's not same as yours; I honestly don't understand what you're going through, but it's obviously /**something** and I'm /**trying** to help."

Jackson glares.

"Can I help?"

"Does it fucking look like you can?"

"Yes." Logan makes that gesture people use in tense situations. "What do you want, short term?"

"I want to talk to Charlie."

"Okay, good. You'll need a phone for that, ay?"

"Nah, I should use a carrier pigeon."

"Don't know where I'm gonna find one of those but it's probably doable."

"That was sarcasm, you ass—"

Logan grins.

"Stop playing me!"

"I couldn't resist," Logan snickers. "Now get changed. We're out of time."

Jackson stalls.

"There will be more jumpers and more gold things and more gold jumpers—"

Jackson points out—

"All of which you can get Charlie to lay out and mix up but, for right now, if you do not get changed I will choke you with that damn thing and strip you myself."

"That's weird." But Jackson actually moves.

"I really don't care, but you should, because if you /**do** put on this crap they're more likely to let you call home."

Jackson's jumpsuit's up to his waist, now—he did change his underwear—and he slowly takes off his jumper, folds it carefully, and places it on the bed.

Logan glances at the door.

Jackson smooths the jumper, gives it a soft pat, and changes his shirt.

"All the way up," Logan urges.

"That's /**really** weird." Jackson does what he's told—/**finally**—and then they wait for two minutes by Logan's mental stopwatch.

The door opens.

Logan hauls Jackson to his feet.

"Socks off," orders the Uniform.

Jackson asks, "Do we—"

"You will speak only when spoken to."

"Okay," chirps Logan.

Jackson straightens—

"Leave them here," orders the Uniform.

Logan drops his and kicks them under the bunk.

"Out."

Logan takes the lead, sidles up to the far side Uniform.

That Uniform shoves him back into formation.

The first Uniform chases Jackson from the room, takes point, and they steer Jackson and Logan down the hall.