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Electric lights buzz overhead. The aircon murmurs in the background. There’s the sound of rubber against the floor as Gordon shifts on his crutch.
GORDON: Say something.
Nothing. The crutch clicks against the ground again and Gordon pounds once against the glass.
GORDON: Fucking say something! After everything you did to me, you don’t have anything to fucking say for yourself?!
For a moment, just his heavy breathing. Then:
BRYONY: Why are you still alive?
GORDON: What? The… the infusion still worked. I mean it was… I mean I don’t know all of the details. They said Warren had to-
BRYONY: Not scientifically, Gordon. I know all of that. Why are you still alive? Out of everyone?
A pause.
BRYONY: You’re a fanboy. An emotional support animal for Warren at best. And they chose to save you. Instead of the millions of others soon to die. Why?
Nothing.
BRYONY: Not sure? I’ll tell you. Because you’re a plus one. Without your connection to Warren, they would’ve let you bleed out in that hallway like you were supposed to and none of these outcomes would even change. No one would notice that you were gone. They didn’t the first time.
GORDON: [Quietly] Warren would.
BRYONY: Are you sure?
GORDON: Yes.
BRYONY: Why?
GORDON: Because he… he was the one who saved me. He’s my friend. My… only one. Like you said, all that… time ago.
Bryony finally turns around to look at him through the glass.
BRYONY: Are you in love with him?
GORDON: What? I-I don't see what that has to do with anything.
BRYONY: Well, you've ended up 40 years in the future because of it. I'd call that something.
GORDON: That doesn't matter.
BRYONY: That you're in love with him?
GORDON: That I'm here.
BRYONY: So long as you're with him.
GORDON: Jesus fucking Christ…
BRYONY: What are you getting out of this?
GORDON: Out of what?
BRYONY: Of tripping over your feet. Of sticking to him like fucking glue. It's only put you in more danger. Hell, it's only put him in more danger.
GORDON: [Quiet] I know.
BRYONY: So, why are you still here?
GORDON: Because he kept me alive.
BRYONY: Oh, I see. It's that thing you said.
GORDON: What?
BRYONY: "Because you care." That's what you said to him, right? That night?
GORDON: Stop it.
BRYONY: He may care about you, Gordon, but he doesn't love you. Take it from the woman who was in a loveless marriage with him for nine months.
GORDON: Stop it.
BRYONY: Caring that you're alive doesn't mean anything. I cared if he was alive.
GORDON: So you could torture him.
BRYONY: Yes. And he cares that you're alive so he can feel like he's alive. It's all quite simple and the fact at the end of it is…
She's egging him on to finish the sentence.
GORDON: …That I don't get anything.
BRYONY: Yes, yes, bravo. You continue to stick around feeling worse about yourself while he continues to torture himself caring about you and still just never giving you what you want. What you need, at this point, frankly.
GORDON: ...Right.
BRYONY: Well, that's alright. I hear Red Valley's pretty good at putting an end to things, these days. If you want it bad enough.
She turns away from him again.
A CUT. A heavy metal door shuts. Some shuffling as Warren stands from where he’d been sitting, watching the conversation through the window.
WARREN: Gordon-
Gordon begins walking away, his crutch thwacking against the ground.
GORDON: I don’t wanna talk about it.
WARREN: Gordon, about what she was saying-
An abrupt halt.
GORDON: I said don’t.
WARREN: …Alright.
A long pause. Gordon sighs.
GORDON: I’m going back to my room for the night.
WARREN: Okay.
The crutch clacks against the ground again.
GORDON: See you tomorrow, Warren.
A CUT. Footsteps pace anxiously back and forth.
WARREN: -And what am I meant to say? I'm sorry? Don't listen to her? She's an absolute fucking manipulative asshole who I really should have convinced him not to speak to?
GRACE: I do not think that is what he wants to hear.
WARREN: Then what is? Because I feel like I'm losing him, Grace. I don't… want to do that. Bryony was right about one thing. I… I do care about him. A lot.
GRACE: I know that. Have you told him?
WARREN: He knows. She told him. You told him.
GRACE: Have you told him?
Warren stops pacing. Takes a deep breath.
A CUT. There’s a rustling of blankets and pillows.
GRACE: You said you were in love with him?
Gordon’s voice is muffled, his face buried in a pillow.
GORDON: I didn’t say that, she did. [He begins muttering, mostly incoherent.] Fucking Bryony goddamn Halbech…
GRACE: So you… are not? In love with him?
The blankets rustle again as Gordon pushes himself up enough to glare at Grace.
GRACE: Sorry, I am just asking.
CUT BACK. Warren’s foot taps against the ground.
WARREN: [Carefully] Do you think she was right? That he's... in love with me?
GRACE: That is not for me to say.
WARREN: Right... I guess not.
GRACE: If it were true, though, would it change anything?
WARREN: ...I don't know
CUT BACK. Gordon’s voice is no longer muffled.
GORDON: You told me he cares about me.
GRACE: He does.
GORDON: But Bryony is right, isn't she? He doesn't love me. Not the way I want him to, anyway. The way I… need him to.
GRACE: That is not for me to say.
GORDON: [sigh] Of course not.
CUT. Three knocks against a door.
AUBREY: [From within] Come in.
The door opens. Warren steps in and shuts it again.
WARREN: Aubrey, hey, uh. I have a… rather odd question for you.
Aubrey spins her chair to face him.
AUBREY: I don’t think I’ve been asked a normal question by you since you woke up.
WARREN: Ha... right. So. Um. How did you um. Know. With Hester. Or, I mean, like. You know. When did you realize that you... Well, it’s stupid-
AUBREY: [Holding back laughter] Are you… asking me when I knew I was gay?
WARREN: [Defeated] ...Yeah, I suppose I am.
AUBREY: Well, that’s rather… out of nowhere. Did someone say something, or-?
WARREN: Look, I’m embarrassed enough as it is, alright?
AUBREY: [She laughs] Alright, fine. But I don’t really have an answer for you, Warren. There wasn’t some “grand moment” where I had a “shocking realization” it just kind of… was what it was. I didn’t really care, or notice.
WARREN: [Disappointed] Oh… sure. Right.
AUBREY: But, if this is about what I think this is about then I can offer just a bit of advice.
WARREN: Well, I-
AUBREY: Don't worry about it. Really. I know you, Warren, you’re going to talk yourself in circles about this or ignore it entirely. Listen, it doesn't have to be a concrete decision. You can just... enjoy things. Love people. Or don’t. Do whatever feels good. It's all we've got left, really. After everything.
WARREN: Right. Thanks... spirit guide.
AUBREY: [She laughs] Sure. And, really, Warren, I wouldn't get too in your head about it. Gordon is head over heels for you already.
WARREN: [Flustered] W- I- I didn't say anything about Gordon.
Aubrey turns her chair back around.
AUBREY: [Smug] I know.
CUT. Some machines are whirring and there are many people walking about. Gordon’s crutch clacks as he struggles to follow Hester around.
GORDON: But, if Aubrey was your ex, how did you know that she still loved you? After everything?
HESTER: Gordon, please, I’m busy. And, frankly, this isn’t a discussion I want to have with you. Or anyone.
GORDON: [A whine] Heste-
CUT. Everything is still. Quiet. The faintest ticking of a clock can be heard. Blankets rustle and the recorder is picked up. Gordon heaves a heavy sigh.
GORDON: This isn’t fair. None of it is. That I’m alive, that I’m still not fucking recovering, that Bryony can still get in my fucking head even when she’s been reduced to practically nothing. I should be stronger than her now, you know? She’s done awful, horrid things to me and I haven’t even blinked. Is she terrifying? Fuck yes, she is. But that was okay, because I was okay, because everything was horrifying and terrible and my best friend was constantly in danger and being tortured and being ruined by her but at least he was alive. At least I got to see him… sometimes. At least I was there to be something to him. When he needed me. That’s what I was for.
A pause.
GORDON: [Quiet] I wouldn’t have minded dying if it meant he got to live. He had a lot more going for him than I ever did. And he’d move on soon enough. [A deprecating laugh] We hardly saw each other, really. I saw him more than he ever saw me and, you know, maybe that’s why I’ve latched onto him as hard as I have. It’s some sort of… awful, twisted, unhealthy, parasocial, desperate relationship that I’d formed while sitting at that goddamn pod for weeks. Maybe I’m more in love with the sound of the heartrate monitor than him.
He sighs.
GORDON: I don’t know. That can’t be true because I miss him when he’s in there. I like him far more when he’s sitting beside me, when he’s saying ridiculous things, when I can see, right in front of me, that he’s alive. I like his laugh, when I say something so bloody stupid he can’t help it. He’d put his arm around me and laugh against my chest and I couldn’t do anything but join in. Because he was warm, and he sounded… beautiful. God, that sounds so… stupid and corny. Augh… [his voice muffles a bit as he runs a hand across his face] this is fucking pathetic, isn’t it? I’ve lost it.
He pauses again. Takes a slow breath.
GORDON: All of those days, those horrible… bad days when he wouldn’t laugh at anything… those terrified me the most. There was nothing I could do. I was supposed to be there for him, be his friend, be his reason to wake up or whatever. And I was nothing. And I cared more about him then than I feel like I ever have. I worried about him, I missed him, for fuck’s sake. It was like there was some kind of hole in my chest whenever I looked at him. Like every beep of that goddamn monitor was another blade straight into my heart again and again and again and again and…
You know… when he did that. The whole… stabbing himself thing. I was scared, of course, but not for him. Well- I mean- yes. I was scared for him, he fucking stabbed himself in front of people who were already trying to kill him. But, what I mean is, I was scared because his demands were for me. And that meant that he actually… you know. That I actually meant something to him. That he actually thought about me. That he was worried about me. And that was terrifying. I don’t know what to do with that kind of attention. I can bear the hurt and the ache and the long, awful nights listening to that monitor beep if it means that he’ll look at me every now and then. But if he actually…
He chokes on the words a bit. Clears his throat. Tries again.
If he actually loved me… Jesus, that already sounds ridiculous. If he “loved” me. I don’t know what that even means at this point. I don’t know what love even looks like normally and this… these are some pretty extraordinary circumstan-
A knock at the door. Gordon shuts up quick.
WARREN: [From outside] Gordon? Are you… still awake?
GORDON: [Under his breath] You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
The blankets are pushed aside and Gordon groans as he pulls himself up, fumbling for his crutch. Warren takes up knocking at the door again as Gordon slowly makes his way across the room.
GORDON: Hang on for one second, will you? I’m still broken.
He reaches the door and pulls it open. Sudden silence.
WARREN: [Awkward] Hello.
GORDON: Hello. Why d’you have all that?
Linens shuffle as Warren shifts.
WARREN: Oh. Ah… well, erm. You know, now that I’m actually standing here, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Especially after everything with… her. You know, actually, forget it. I shouldn’t have woken you up, I’m really sorry, I-
GORDON: Hey, hey, woah, chill out man, I just asked you a question.
The door creaks a bit as it opens further and Gordon steps back.
GORDON: Do you… want to come in?
WARREN: Yeah, uh… thanks.
He enters the room. Gordon shuts the door. The awkward silence continues.
WARREN: Um, so I’ll just set up on the floor then. If that’s alright.
GORDON: Yeah. Sure.
Some rustling as Warren sets out a blanket and pillow on the floor. Gordon slowly makes his way back to his bed, crashing back onto it with a sigh.
WARREN: Is it… getting any easier?
GORDON: Well- [he grunts] I’m moving, at least. I can’t really keep it up for long but I haven’t got anywhere else to be. So, it’s fine. I guess.
WARREN: Sure.
Another beat of silence.
WARREN: Do you… remember Oscar?
Gordon sputters for a moment.
GORDON: What? Wh… how do you know about that?
WARREN: Well, I- While you were asleep I… I read your autobiography thing. Or, listened to it, anyway.
GORDON: Oh, god, that’s still around?
WARREN: Yeah. Actually, almost all of your old recordings are still around. I think Aubrey has listened to all of them.
GORDON: Jesus…
WARREN: It’s not that bad, I think. I mean, there are parts that get rather boring all of the sort of… technical, exposition-y stuff-
GORDON: Which is most of it.
WARREN: Come on, really, I liked it!
GORDON: You don’t have to lie to me, Warren. There’s a reason I didn’t play it for you the first time.
WARREN: Well, it wasn’t the content that was important. It was… you! I mean, you sounded so excited about that stuff, man. It didn’t really matter that I didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about half the time. I liked it because you did. It was nice to hear your voice, you know? Your real voice, I mean.
GORDON: My real voice? What does that mean?
WARREN: Oh, um. You know, don’t worry about that yet.
GORDON: Warren.
WARREN: I’m serious. I think I just mean that… like… it’d been a long time since I’d heard you be genuine about something in a good way.
GORDON: I was being genuine about something awful. People were dying and I was eating it up like an episode of X-files. Except instead of there being funky aliens behind all of it, there were real, terrifying people behind it. People that I now know intimately that tried to kill you. And I helped them.
WARREN: You weren’t given a choice.
GORDON: I didn’t have to be so fucking enthusiastic about it.
WARREN: Gordon, it’s okay. Really. I don’t… blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about.
GORDON: Sure. Fine.
WARREN: Really, Gordon, I-
GORDON: I said fine.
They fall into silence again.
GORDON: How, um… edited was the version of my memoir that you listened to?
WARREN: [He chuckles a bit] Not very.
GORDON: [A sigh] Of course…
WARREN: I mean, I don’t… really know? I slept through a lot of it.
GORDON: They at least cut out the long audio recordings, right? Aubrey or BlueSky or whatever was playing it for you? They didn’t make you sit through a bunch of nothing, did they?
Warren pauses. Gordon sits up.
GORDON: Warren?
WARREN: …Were you scared the same thing would happen? With me?
GORDON: What are you talking about?
WARREN: Oscar. And the car park. You invited me the same way.
He sits up.
WARREN: Were you worried that I wouldn’t show up? That I’d leave you there again?
GORDON: [Trying to brush this off quickly] Probably about as worried as you were that I was going to murder you or something.
WARREN: [With a chuckle] Or at least ask me to…
He trails off quickly, the context of the day becoming apparent. Gordon knows what he was going to say.
After a moment,
WARREN: I listened to the whole thing.
GORDON: My memoir?
WARREN: No. That specific recording. In the car park.
GORDON: …Why would you do that?
WARREN: It was… comforting in a way. To feel like I was there with you. You seemed so… excited. So flustered about this meeting, about all of the things you were learning. It was awful to hear you get rejected like that.
GORDON: Warren-
WARREN: So, I wanted to wait with you. I know it sounds ridiculous; you weren’t actually there. I wasn’t actually there. The whole thing still happened. But… sometimes it felt like I was back there, with you. Not in that moment, waiting for Oscar, but our moment. When I showed up and sat with you and you played your fucking “sizzle reel.” It was horrifying at the time, those things you showed me.
GORDON: I’m sorry-
WARREN: But it was also so… simple. Things were so easy back then. None of this was part of us, we weren’t part of it. At least, we didn’t know we were. Red Valley was some distant place instead of… here. And, Gordon, I… I would give anything to be back there again. With you.
GORDON: What are you talking about?
WARREN: Not listening to the tapes, not even mentioning Red Valley. Just sitting in simpler times with you. Listening to the rain on top of your car. When I was waiting there, waiting with… you or, past you, or whatever, I missed you, Gordon. More than I ever think I have. I missed every single little moment we got to have together. I missed being able to see you. To hear you. To make fun of you and laugh at your stupid jokes. I just… I wanted to be with you then. And I couldn’t. And I can’t imagine how bad it was for you when I was-
GORDON: [Strained, choked] Please stop. Please, Warren. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to try to… make it up to me. You don’t have to force yourself to do this because I’m… because of what Bryony said.
WARREN: That’s not why I’m doing this. I’m trying to say this stuff because I want you to know that I c-
GORDON: You care, I know. I care about you too. A lot. Way, way more than I probably should. I mean, to you we met like… what? A few months ago? Less? I can’t… you can’t say those things to me, Warren.
WARREN: Why not?
GORDON: Because what if I believe you? I’ve been trying really hard to keep whatever I’m feeling to myself because you have always been the most important. Because whatever was going on with you was horrible and scary and exactly what Bryony fucking wanted. And if I was to suddenly start showing you that you were… that important to me, that I’d gotten so utterly attached to you, then I’d be putting another burden on all of those awful things. [His voice starts to break] You didn’t deserve that. You still don’t. And if you keep saying things like that to me it’s going to get so much harder to just… keep myself out of it. To distance… all of this. I’m sorry, Warren, I am. You didn’t ask for this. I’m sorry you can’t care about me because I’m just… scared.
He puts his head in his hands. Warren pushes his blanket aside and gets to his feet. He steps over and sits on the edge of the bed.
WARREN: Look, Gordon. Are you here? Can you hear me?
He reaches forward to pull Gordon’s hands away. Gordon sniffles.
WARREN: Hello.
GORDON: [Warble] Hello.
WARREN: Look, you’re right. This is scary and, frankly, confusing as hell for me. I don’t know what you’ve been feeling. I don’t even know that I’ve been feeling. I haven’t really had enough time to figure any of that out. Can I tell you what I do know, though?
GORDON: [A whisper] Sure.
WARREN: I know that I want to be around you. And I want you to be alive. I want to hear you laugh and I want to be here for things like this, too. I want you to know, without a doubt, that I care about you. A lot. Way more than I probably should.
Gordon laughs slightly, his voice still wet with tears.
WARREN: I can’t promise any more than that right now. Is that alright?
A pause. Then, Gordon leans forward to pull Warren into a hug.
GORDON: Yeah, that’s alright.
They pull apart from each other.
GORDON: [Recovering from tears] Thank you, Warren.
WARREN: Thank you, Gordon. For everything.
He starts to get up from the bed.
GORDON: Oh, um. It feels kind of… weird to ask you to sleep on my floor now.
WARREN: Oh, did you want me to l-
GORDON: Do you want to sleep with me?
Beat.
WARREN: [Teasing] Well, that’s a bit more forward than I’d expecte-
Gordon throws a pillow at him.
GORDON: That’s not what I meant, you dumb fuck!
They both laugh. Warren tosses the pillow back. The bed creaks a little as he settles back down.
WARREN: I think I’d like that a lot actually.
Recording ends.