Solo Log: Study Dates in Exile

**Fall 20, 501 AOV**

Absolutely to be dramatic, Mona has abandoned her.

Cleone had ignored her mild trepidation when Mona invited her to come out to Madame Andromeda's and talk with Nathan Jierre. Madame Andromeda is sweet and the insights from the planar research journal they found would be useful despite their abhorrent origins, so...

Well, talking about the journal had gone just fine (if awkward). But now Mona is off fetching the star map from RHC headquarters and for some reason Madame Andromeda has also disappeared with only quick instructions to keep Nathan company - gone too swiftly for Cleone to respond. Now it's just her and yet another Jierre, Cleone doing her best to pretend she's invisible as Nathan calibrates his equipment. Gatria had confirmed back in spring that Nathan wasn't involved with the Obscurati, but...after the Minister, Cleone figures Nathan ought to be as wary of her as she is of him.

Why has Mona abandoned her to this?

"That's strange."

Cleone may be trying not to attract Nathan's notice, but the sound of a perplexed mutter accompanied by a metallic squeak is a shortcut to her attention. Reflexively she glances over at Nathan, who's wrestling with one of his instruments, and it only takes a few seconds to identify what must have caused his consternation.

"The hinge in that thing is starting to come loose. You'll want to tighten the screws. Adding some oil could help get rid of the noise too, if you'd like."

That earns her a look, like she's only just now registered in Nathan's attention, and indeed that's probably what happened. Nice to know her silence was working, even if she's sabotaged herself anyway.

"My apologies," she adds quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"No, I appreciate it. Thank you." Nathan studies the faulty hinge, then her. "You're the technology expert, aren't you? From Danor."

Cleone stiffens for a moment, but forces herself to respond. "Yes, I am."

It's nothing malicious, she tells herself. But she does flinch when Nathan muses, "Yes, I do remember hearing about you from my cousin once, before everything. She had high hopes for you. So you've..." He pauses, eyes on her face, and steps back with his hands raised. "Never mind. I'm sorry for bringing it up, it seems like a sore subject."

Cleone quickly finds herself flustered. "No, no, I'm--it's fine, it's work. And, um...I ought to apologize to you too. For--your cousin."

In the ensuing pause she's afraid she's said the wrong thing, that she ought not to bring it up. But Nathan just shakes his head and looks away. "I don't know why she did what she did, but it doesn't seem like it was your doing. I wish I could have seen her one last time, but...she might not have been pleased with me, either." He shrugs and gestures to himself, indicating his circumstances.

A pang of empathy strikes Cleone's heart then, remembering what Gatria had said about his reasons for hiding. "What's it like to defect?" she asks before she can stop herself. "I--I mean…" She slaps herself mentally; what an insensitive question, especially out of context. "I can't go back anymore, either. I just found out this week. I didn't mean to leave, I suppose, but even if I wanted to I--can't..."

She can feel the walls she's built up to compartmentalize since Nalaam crumbling with each word. Nathan looks frozen in shock, and she turns away in shame. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's not your problem to deal with, I know."

The trip to the RHC and back is far too long all of a sudden, because there's no chance Mona and the others will be back to save her from this situation for a good while. The silence stretches, and Cleone finds a spot by the wall to sit against - still too mortified to look back at Nathan. She busies herself instead taking out Floyd for company and her notebook for work. The time between now and the convocation genuinely is a good opportunity to make progress on that steamsuit design she's been toying with…

"You get used to it, for better or worse."

It takes a few seconds to summon the courage, but Cleone manages to steal a glance at Nathan again. He's poring over the journal again, and from the back Cleone can't read him well enough to guess anything from his body language but his tone is...not harsh, at least. Maybe sympathetic.

"I spent ten years in the Dreaming, even if it was only one in the Waking. It's a lot of time to miss people, but also a lot of time to go over all the what-ifs. Then there's only so much left to think about, I've found." A pause. "Spontaneous musical numbers...now that's a new one."

It takes Cleone a second to realize he must be referring to the contents of the research journal - there had been a plane like that, hadn't there. Deciding not to push the issue further, she leaves him to that and turns her attention back to her own notes.

It isn't until much later when she and the other constables are leaving the house that she realizes she's forgotten to thank him.

She comes back a few evenings later bearing a pot of cassoulet and the tools she needs to fix that broken hinge. Nathan appreciates the repair, and he definitely appreciates the meal.

"I'm not usually that good a cook," she admits to him as they share some of the dish. (Madame Andromeda has, once again, disappeared after a quick sample with instructions to keep Nathan company.) "But when I moved here I used to potluck with a friend at the consulate, so I got pretty good at this one thing. I figured you might appreciate some. And I wanted to thank you for the other day...partially because I know my team and I are a handful, but also for not losing your patience with me before that."

She laughs nervously, imagining her coworkers' reactions should she have started babbling about her complicated political situation. Not enjoyable. She's very thankful Nathan had been relatively kind about it.

Nathan for his part seems to have nearly forgotten about the incident, from the way his eyes unfocus for a moment before snapping back to attention. "Oh! That. It was...that wasn't anything worth thanking me for. Just one refugee to another, I suppose." He gestures to the cassoulet. "But I will take the food. It's been...well, many years since I had this."

"Take as much as you like. It's not something I ought to eat all by myself." She laughs, and Nathan smiles with her. "Though if you don't mind, I'm going to get some work done while we eat."

And that's how they end up in companionable silence, Cleone with her notebook and Nathan with his own. Madame Andromeda comes in at some point to grab some more food and comments that they're getting along well, with a strange kind of look that Cleone can't quite interpret.

It's fine, probably. Not malicious in any case.

And, well, if she ends up making some cassoulet and bringing it over again a week later...that's the thing about making only one particular dish well, and making it every other week for a year. She doesn't want to risk dragging Laurent into an unfortunate situation through association with her, but good food really ought to be shared, shouldn't it?

**Fall 53, 501 AOV**

Nathan, it turns out, makes a good work companion.

"...And I can't use any kind of iron alloy on the outmost layer, because Mona's got fey sensitivity and I'm not going to risk a design that might harm my own teammate. The number of possible coatings I can use instead is...well, I’ve spent a lot of time investigating my options. Nickel is my most likely choice for its availability, though tungsten would be the best protection from external heat if I could get my hands on enough…or I could find a material besides some sort of metal. Rubber for shock absorption, perhaps. They’re all possibilities, but whatever I go with will determine how I use this steamsuit. Or, from the other side, what I want out of it will determine what I need to add to it…”

Nathan nods along as he fiddles with one of his astronomical instruments, setting it up for the evening’s observations. Cleone thinks this one has something to do with measurement of angles in the night sky. “I’ve never seen one in person, but the ones I’ve heard about have used some kind of fabric at the–hang on a second.”

He starts scribbling some notes in a book, hums a bit, and stares intently at some calculations that Cleone glances at briefly before returning to her own notebook.

Cleone’s no astronomy expert and can only just grasp exactly what broad concept Nathan is currently mulling over, but Nathan isn’t a mechanical expert either and he only has half an idea what Cleone’s saying at all right now. They’ve been teaching each other bits and pieces over the past month, weekly dinners turning into weekly work sessions turning into weekly discussions of their latest findings and challenges. Nathan is still sorting through all the implications of the bombshells they’d discussed that first day back and trying to corroborate with his own observations; Cleone is working on the steamsuit design that’s been in the back of her mind for a year, determined to finally make it a reality once they return from Crisillyir. Both of them are rediscovering the benefits of having a second person to bounce off of.

(Yes, there’s Tinker who might be better equipped to talk about the steamsuit, but Cleone wants to keep it to herself for the time being. Her reasons aren’t fair and she knows it - she can hardly blame Tinker for not being the people she really wants to share it with - but it’s not the same without Lloyd’s careful eye for complex systems and Manon’s irreverent competitions of friendly one-upmanship.)

It’s about two minutes before Nathan realizes he’s gotten distracted in the middle of their conversation again. “Oh. As I was saying…right, the steamsuits. If I remember correctly, the ones I’ve heard of have joints of insulated fabric to maintain flexibility in manual labor…or something like that.” He shrugs. “It was a long time ago…for me.”

Cleone nods, knowing what he means. He’s mentioned before that the year he spent in the Dreaming had passed as ten; anything he’d heard about Danoran technology would have been over a decade buried at this point. She’s surprised he remembers anything at all about experimental technology unrelated to his work. “That’s not a bad idea. But I’ll need to be careful with how much is exposed - this will need to weather a beating if necessary, from the elements or otherwise.”

“As in–” Nathan cuts himself off, clearly uncomfortable, and Cleone knows he’s wondering if she intends to use it for battle. He’s still uneasy about discussing the world outside Madame Andromeda’s and the Cloudwood. Research into the Ancients’ star system and the Gyre unnerves him even as he does it against the hope it won’t be needed; Cleone has tried her best to keep talk of politics and conflict, let alone the Obscurati, out of their conversations entirely. Fourteen years of friendship with Florette has made her very good at talking around topics when needed.

“Have you ever seen what steam can do to a person, if not contained and funneled towards the appropriate outlets? Inside or outside an oversized tin can?”

Another silence, and she can see the gears turning in his imagination. A grimace. “Never mind. I didn’t say anything.”

Avoiding politics doesn’t mean completely sugarcoating the nature of her work. It’s a good reminder to herself, as well: for all she knows she’s straying into the mad science sphere of engineering here, she also can’t forget the forces she’s working with. The steamsuit will be a weapon if it comes down to it, even if she’s skirting the fact for Nathan’s sake, but she also has no intention of getting herself or anyone else killed through poor design or negligence.

That said, she also doesn’t intend to give him nightmares for no reason. “So what are you going to be looking at tonight?”

Nathan perks up as he begins explaining the particulars of Av’s movement through the skies, and Cleone listens.

**Fall 70, 501 AOV**

Cleone doesn’t even realize she’s stress-cooking until Madame Andromeda comments on her stopping by twice in a week. She seems very pleased by it and leaves Cleone and Nathan a bowl of plums as they work, but Nathan’s quieter than usual and every so often she can feel his eyes lingering on her as she reads over her notes and fails to process a single sentence.

“Something’s bothering you,” he states an hour into the afternoon. “Probably to do with wherever you’re going soon. You haven’t slept well, either, and it shows. Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

Cleone blinks, because this is the eighth or so time they’ve studied together and Nathan’s never once asked after what the constables have been involved in - which he has his reasons for, and which she makes sure not to push on. He’s stiff as he asks but meets her eyes, and after a second it dawns on her that by coming here she’s managed to worry him into asking anyway.

She sighs and drops her pen onto the table. The frustration itching under her skin urges her to throw it down, but that’s unnecessarily dramatic and so she doesn’t. She opens her mouth to wave it off, to tell Nathan things are fine, but the lie stops dead before it can start. She remembers the kindness he showed her back when they returned from overseas, and can’t bring herself to repay him with dishonesty.

“I’ll be crossing paths with someone I’d rather not.” She gives a short, sharp laugh. “If I’m lucky, nothing will happen. If I’m not…well, we’ll see. I’ll probably be back one way or another.”

That’s the one good thing about this possession plan, ethically dubious though it may be. Unless she blatantly outs herself, Nicodemus will only see a proxy instead of a veneer of makeup over his old employee. (And it shouldn’t comfort her that she’ll be using somebody else’s body, but the part of her that remembers a gentle smile and a dagger in her - his - chest cried out in relief when she realized.)

Nathan looks awkward, probably debating whether to ask for more details. It seems he doesn’t, because he nods. “Will you be coming back here once you’re done?”

“Of course.” That much is easy to say. Cleone smiles, and ignores the itch of nerves. “Honestly, it’s been a pleasure to study together. The rest of my team, they’re - well, you get sick of seeing the same four faces all the time. And you understand…many things, that it’s harder to talk to them about.”

Nathan’s cheeks color slightly, and he scratches his head in embarrassment. “I’ve been enjoying these days as well. I don’t mind the solitude, but it has been good to share with someone else. Thank you for coming all this time, and I’ll be glad to see you once you’re back.”

A beat, and: “Would you mind a hug?”

(Once upon a time, Cleone was not a hugger. Meeting Florette, and now Hoya, has since changed that.)

Nathan does not in fact mind the hug. He’s awkward at this, too, and his smile is weak as they separate - but it’s genuine with a hint of warmth. He gives her another hug as Cleone leaves that night: “For well wishes,” he says. “I’ll be looking forward to your next visit. Please stay safe.”

She can’t promise that for sure, but she tries. “I’ll do my best.”

Cleone leaves the house feeling more settled than she has the past week, even if the truly dreadful parts are yet to come.

(Madame Andromeda watches her go, and just barely contains her delight.)