Chapter Text
THE FIRST MEETING
The first time Mensah met Security, she was in the process of putting in the code for her gated home-away-from-home when, suddenly, there was a stranger close beside her.
“Oh!” She stepped back in surprise. “I’m sorry, this is a private facility. Can I contact someone for you?”
“You’re Ayda, right? Dr. Ayda Mensah?” The person asked. He clearly knew who she was and she gave an uncertain smile in return. A journalist of sorts?
“Oh, I see, community hours are during the day.” She reached into her purse for her business card. “If you contact my office on this number, they can set up-”
“I don’t want a meeting!” The person slapped her card away and moved closer. Mensah stepped backwards again and ran up into someone’s chest. She was suddenly very aware that it was dark and she was alone, and that this agitated person had a friend.
Her heart spiked.
The person behind her stepped to the side, then around, and then in between Mensah and the original stranger, who’d begun backing up with his hands up in alarm. The new person was very tall, clearly well muscled and had his hands clenched in prepared and slightly raised fists. “Woah buddy! It’s not what it looks like, I’m a journalist! I wasn’t-”
“Go. Away.” The voice of her surprise rescuer was flat and firm, his posture slightly threatening.
“Right, sure-sure.” The journalist seemed to think so because he immediately turned and hurried away from the building. Mensah blinked at the quick de-escalation as the back in front of her slouched.
Before she could thank him for rescuing her, a third person joined them. “Security! What the hell are you doing to leave me like that?”
The new person was frowning at them both. She had the same pale skin as her rescuer and similar blond hair. She couldn’t make out the colour of her eyes but there was that aggravated tone of someone being put out that she occasionally heard Amena take with the others. Siblings potentially? Although the newest person was of average height, only a touch taller than Mensah, while the one who had helped towered over them both as he turned to look down in her direction.
She could understand why the journalist had opted to flee from her rescuer: there was a substantial bruise across the majority of his face that didn’t help the flat unfriendly expression under it. He avoided looking at Mensah directly, eyes flicking away to stare somewhere between her, the newcomer, and an object behind them.
She shook her head and chided herself for immediately judging on looks when this person had just helped her. “Thank you,” she held her hands together to disguise their shaking. “I wasn’t expecting that. I am often told that I need to stop bringing my work home with me.”
Mensah thought a joke might help break the awkwardness, but it didn’t seem to land. She wondered if she could just leave but they were between her and the gate at this point.
“Does this often happen? Someone harassing you when you’re going home? That’s awful.” The newcomer said it in a tone bordering sympathy and amusement. “It must be exhausting.” She drew her final words out and lingered on them.
“Oh, not often.” She rushed to reassure her. The newcomer did look familiar, in the way people who live in the same area usually do. “Usually people tend to stick to my office. I was just distracted enough for them to startle me.”
She turned to her rescuer. “Thank you for that, by the way. You didn’t have to.”
He remained silent and continued to avoid looking at her. That was a bit odd, but he did look pretty tired and it was rather late at night. That bruise had to be paired with a splitting headache and she was starting to develop one of her own out of sympathy. She hoped it wasn’t hurting too much.
“Don’t mind it.” The woman leaned over to grab one of the man’s arms into an off-balanced looking limp embrace. Probably not siblings, now that she was looking between the two of them side by side under the light. Not with the way she was running her hand down his side and into a pocket. “It’s not very sociable. Doesn’t speak much without the right incentive.”
As if in agreement, he (it?) stayed silent.
“But if you need some extra company at night, I can help you out.” Mensah blinked a couple of times at the phrasing. Was she coming on to her? It was flattering, but she had her two partners back at their main home and they weren’t currently considering a fourth (or fifth, if this was a couple situation looking for another person to be involved).
Fortunately the woman continued before Mensah could make a fool of herself and ask for clarification. “Security here isn’t much, but it’s really good at keeping other people away.”
The other woman slapped her rescuer on the arm and Mensah stopped an instinctive wince. She wasn’t sure if she was wincing at the slap or the odd emphasis the woman kept putting on the pronouns. Mensah considered perhaps that she was protective of her friend’s preferences and was overcompensating, but the tone of it came across as unusually objectifying.
“Security?” She asked in confusion.
The other woman lit up in enthusiasm to talk about her friend. “Yeah, Security. This is Security, its job is security. My security mostly, but its struggling and could always use some more cash. Funny, isn’t it?” She patted at its (his?) arm lightly while Security seemed to lean backwards without shifting at all. He (it?) looked very uncomfortable and like it (he?) would rather be home than having his (its?) financial situation discussed with a relative stranger.
“Oh, I couldn’t require that of him,” Her rescuer’s mouth twitched down into a grimace as she spoke. Possibly Mensah had just made an ass of herself in disregarding his (its? their?) preferences. The woman frowned at her too and Mensah hastened to correct the conversation. “I mean, this is very uncommon, it hardly happens at all. I should be okay. Thank you though, for the offer. And for helping me.”
The woman shrugged. “No problem at all, think about it”. She pulled her hand out of the pocket, trailed it over Security’s side then stepped past Mensah to input a pin into their apartment’s gate. It swung open.
“If you change your mind you can find me in 14A, I can hook you up with it on a rental. Just ask for Leebeebee.” Leebeebee flashed her another smile and walked off towards the lift foyer. Mensah hated to think it, but she was relieved to no longer be talking to her. It had been oddly uncomfortable and with her leaving the night air lightened a touch.
Security was a fraction slower to follow and Mensah took her chance. “Thank you, again. I appreciate it.”
It (he?) (they?) didn’t get to reply before Leebeebee’s voice called across the building. She didn’t seem to care about how she echoed. “Come on Security, you’ve made us late enough.”
And Mensah’s first meeting with Security ended with it leaving as fast as it had arrived.
THE SECOND MEETING
The second time Mensah met Security was only a couple of mornings later as she was riding the lift down to the ground floor. When it stopped at the 14th floor, it opened to reveal a looming figure in an old and faded hoodie standing unsettlingly close to the lift doors.
Security’s face looked even more tired than that night before, but the bruise had yellowed across its face and the swelling had settled down enough that she could make out blank blue eyes that slid over her and settled on empty space. It didn’t make for a particularly approachable looking figure as he (it? they?) moved into the furthest corner with practiced avoidance. Perhaps it (they? he?) had vision issues.
Security was an odd name, but they (he? It?) hadn’t given her an alternative to use.
“Good morning,” she said. There was no acknowledgement from her temporary lift companion. Probably not much of a morning person with how tired they (it? he?) looked.
The old lift was slow to close its doors and slower to get moving.
“Thank you again, for helping me back then.” Mensah tried again louder, putting as much warmth as she could into her voice. That got a reaction. Shoulders tightened up and its (their? his?) head turned away.
“I didn’t quite catch your name?” She asked.
“Security is fine.” The mumbled words reached her ears.
“Oh.” Mensah paused and considered how best to approach her next question.
The tone Leebeebee used when talking about Security, talking about it like it was a thing warred with her desire to make sure she was being respectful and using a person’s preferred terminology. “If you don’t mind me asking, and I apologise for asking so suddenly when we have just met, but I wasn’t sure... I was wondering, what are your pronouns?”
That got a reaction. Security’s head turned around to quickly look at her face then changed to over her head. Their (his? its?) eyes had gone wide in surprise.
“Um,” Her rescuer hesitated, then slouched harder and she lost the brief moment of life she had seen as its (his? their?) face went flat again. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want.”
“It does matter,” she insisted on this as gently as possible. “I would like to use what you prefer. If you would share it with me.”
Security was silent, the moment drawing out as the lift finished its descent to the ground floor. They (it? he?) rubbed at the faded logo off the hoodie. The lift pinged and seemed to bring it back to the present.
“It-its is fine.” It said to her, quietly. It seemed somewhat uncertain.
“It-its it is.” Mensah confirmed. “I like to use she/her. It’s very nice to have met you properly, Security.”
It gave her a sort of half-nod and continued to stand motionless in the lift until she realised it was waiting for her to leave first. Despite its unapproachable demeanor and awkward conversational skills, it struck her as quite polite.
“I hope you have a good day,” she said before ending their second meeting by giving it another smile and leaving the lift.
THE THIRD MEETING
The third time she met Security was in the morning. Mensah had left for her office only to realise she had left her passcard at home. As she was only 5 minutes down the street, it wasn’t a bother to turn around and return to pick it up.
When she reached the lift foyer, she saw Security there. It was standing in front of the entry, so close it looked like it was resting against the lift’s doors. It wasn’t wearing its hoodie this time, instead dressed in a stained tank top with track pants and off-white sneakers that had both seen better days. She had a better view of those arms and muscles that scared off the journalist, and the rainbow of bruises and, across those, a scattering of scratches.
Then Mensah got closer and confirmed it was resting its head against the doors, eyes partially closed. It looked exhausted.
“Security? Is everything alright?” It started, almost tilting sideways as it turned to look at her before it recovered its balance.
Standing so close to it, she could see its unevenly dilated pupils, the way they struggled to track her before looking over her head, the smattering of developing bruises across its face and what worryingly looked like dried blood coming out of its ear.
“Are you okay?” Mensah softened her voice to hide her alarm as she stepped closer, reaching out a supportive hand.
“Don’t touch.” Security obviously cringed away from her and she quickly pulled back, raising her hands to demonstrate that she was listening.
“Okay,” she agreed. The lift pinged and Security again waited for her to enter first, then stumbled in after her to squeeze past and put its bulk into the corner. It was much more hunched than it was the previous time she ran into it.
It didn’t turn around.
It was an awkward ride with her staring at its back.
The lift pinged again as they reached its floor. As Security stepped out, it tripped over the gap and caught itself against the wall and buttons. Mensah would be stopping at a lot of extra floors as she continued upwards.
If she continued upwards.
Security had frozen in the doorway and seemed to be concentrating on remaining partially upright. The lift started to beep at them.
Mensah took a breath to steel herself and stepped near it, purposely keeping her hands lowered. It needed help, she could help. She just had to approach it the right way. “Hey, hold on to me.”
It turned slightly towards her. “Yeah, just hold on to me. I won’t touch you.” She kept her voice calm and neutral.
Security mumbled something she didn’t catch, then slowly pulled itself up to put one shaking hand on to her shoulder. Her eyes were drawn to its knuckles, littered with scars and rather raw and swollen. It looked painful. Its grip on her was a little too tight to be comfortable, but she didn’t bring attention to it.
“Right then, here we go.” Mensah’s hands hovered over its back as they moved forward together but she resolutely kept them from touching. It mumbled at her again.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Dr. Mensah.” Its hand trembled where it held on to her. “I’m getting blood on your clothes.”
“That’s fine.” It really was fine.
They made it a few more steps where its hand got tighter and tighter on her shoulder. “I’m getting blood on your clothes.” It repeated and she gave another murmur of acknowledgement.
“Dr Mensah.” It said it more urgently this time, and started to let go of her shoulder. She looked back at in surprise and was struck by the way it made direct eye contact, its eyes lined with pain. “I’m getting-”
“-blood on my clothes. Yes, you already said that.” How disorientated was it? She wondered if perhaps she should call someone, an emergency contact. Did it live with Leebeebee? What room was she again? “Which apartment is yours?”
“F for fuck up.” It muttered to her. Oh boy, she was not ready for this kind of conversation on their third meeting. She settled for a disagreeing sound.
They had made it half of the way to 14F when there were footsteps behind her and an overly cheery voice.
“Oh Doctor!” Leebeebee half-smiled at her as she barged into view, almost singing Mensah’s title. “It’s good to see you again, did you change your mind about hiring Security?”
“Uh, no. No thank you.” Mensah winced as Security’s hand tightened more around her shoulder. At this rate, she would have a bruise to match one of the ones on its face. “I found it like this and I’m helping it back to its apartment.”
“Sure sure, let me know if you change your mind. I can take it from here. I’ve got a key.” Leebeebee continued to beam at the two of them as Security slowly let go and swayed there between them. Mensah studied it with concern. It did not look good.
“Well, if you’re alright with that, Security.”
She tried to get a look at its expression again, but it turned away. “I’m fine.”
“I hope the rest of your night is better,” Mensah told it, honestly hoping that it would settle down with a lot of panadol and a visit to a medical centre tomorrow morning.
“It’ll be fine, it always is.” Leebeebee reassured her. Her wide smile for Mensah switched to a small and pleased one when she turned to Security. “Figured you be a mess to get home this late.” Her voice switched to an unsettling sing-song that Mensah expected was meant to be playful but just came out...weird. “Hope the other guy looks worse at least. Hurry up.”
Mensah watched in alarm as Leebeebee didn’t offer it support, instead letting it stumble after. Then winced when as it clipped the wall. Mensah was just about to insist she continue to help it when they stopped outside room 14F.
Leebeebee pushed it to go in first, then gave a a dramatic eyeroll and head jerk in its direction before waving farewell at Mensah and closing the door.
NO MEETINGS
She didn’t see Security for a couple of weeks after that.
The world felt kind of odd. Which felt even more odd that someone she had only met three times had already left such an impact on her thoughts. Now everything was slightly to the left of where it was meant to be.
Mensah found herself wondering about Security, both during breaks at work and when she was lying in bed late at night. What would lead to a person of such imposing stature to be so injured? How often did this happen that its partner didn’t seem to be concerned, and was this a sign that she was being too concerned? Her residual anxiety urged her to get involved because something about its eyes called to her. It reminded her somewhat of-
She even considered knocking on the door of 14F to check in on it.
She didn’t, because that felt presumptuous and a little too irrational, but she kept wondering.
THE FOURTH MEETING
The fourth time she met Security was another journalist incident a month after the first.
It was nearly midnight when she finally managed to head home from the office. Mensah hadn’t meant to work so late again, but the briefings had piled up when she wasn’t looking, and they were brief in name only.
(She couldn’t help herself from staying late to review them, not when the Medically Supervised Injecting Room project meant so much to her. She needed to see it through.)
The request for additional funding for it was especially long, and politically charged, so she really wanted to make sure she understood all the risks and benefits before she had to field the endless questions on her decision to approve it and the inevitable stream of people dragging Gurathin’s memory through the mud.
Mensah missed him, she had to wonder what his thoughts would have been, what advice he would be giving her, if he would have-
She paused at the corner to her street to grimace in frustration.
There was a journalist waiting at the gate to her apartment block. She was getting good at spotting the look of them – a strange person lingering at the gates at weird hours, pretending to look at their phone. But the posture was too tense, their bag too big, the way they looked up the street in the direction she would come from the office too suspicious.
Mensah wished the building had a second entry accessible to occupants, it seemed a faulty design to only have the one.
She lingered on the corner and considered how to approach this in the most diplomatic way possible. She was tired, with a headache, and wanted to go home without incident. All factors that could inadvertently lead to a newsworthy incident with her judgement impaired.
The journalist jumping almost made her jump in sympathetic reflex. Someone was leaving her building late and it had startled the both of them.
It was Security, opening the gate and stepping out. From what she could see of it, it was dressed in its tank top track pants combination again. It also startled when it saw the journalist, then ducked past to march down the street towards her. It was moving much smoother than the last time she saw it, a tall and powerfully built figure without any of the clumsy movements from before.
Security paused when it reached Mensah. It was for such a short moment that she wondered if she imagined it as it ducked past, radiating how much it was minding its own business and didn’t want to be spoken to.
Mensah didn’t mean to feel this way, but she was dismayed it had left her alone to deal with the journalist. Then she scolded herself for expecting it to just jump to her rescue every time she’s in a slightly uncomfortable situation. Security was clearly going through some difficult times and it was selfish of her to hope that it would be her rescuer again. It wasn’t its job to protect her, especially from what were most likely to be nothing but silly and inconvenient questions.
She made herself think longingly of a cup of tea, a nice long shower and easing the tension headache that had plagued her the last hour. She could get through this and retire for the night.
She had just talked herself up into the confidence to walk forward and approach the journalist about appropriate interviewing hours when Security loomed back out of the darkness next to her. She jumped in surprise and muffled a reflexive: “Fuck!”
Security must have changed its mind because it was staring towards the journalist intensely, then down at her out of the corner of its eye.
Standing so close to it, she could see that it was looking much better than their previous meeting. The largest bruise high on its cheekbone had faded to yellow, and most of the shallow splits in its lips had fully scabbed up and faded away.
It had stained bandages wrapped over its knuckles, hiding its scars, and she wondered if they were still scraped and swollen and needed the additional protection. She felt a stab of concern about whatever had happened to it.
“Stay calm. It’ll be okay. You have my word.” It was the most it had said to her so far, spoken in a stilted fashion like it was reading off a script. It looked very uncomfortable and didn’t try to smile at her.
Before she could muster her embarrassment at the situation to give it a verbal out from its self-imposed obligation to help her, Security walked over to the journalist. It stood uncomfortably close to them, not as close as it did to the lift doors in that unnerving proximity that set her heart racing, but close enough to make it obvious how physically intimidating it was. It was looking over the journalist’s head, purposely avoiding eye contact, while the journalist had to lean back and crane their neck to respond.
It said something and the journalist took a sudden step back. It said something else, and the journalist made a squeaking sound that Mensah could hear from her corner, snatched their bag tight and then retreated down the street with a sudden urgent desire to be elsewhere.
Security looked in her direction then, but it didn’t return to her to receive its thanks or give her any other form of acknowledgement through a wave or nod. Instead, it hunched its shoulders again in a futile attempt to seem small and crossed the road. Then continued down the street until the darkness swallowed it up again and left Mensah behind in her relief and bewilderment.
THE UNSETTLING MEETING
The next morning, just as she was about to leave for her weekday trek to the office, there was a knock at the door.
Confused, Mensah looked through the viewing hole to see Leebeebee standing there with her arms wrapped around a slouched Security. Worriedly, Security wasn’t standing up straight and seemed to be tipping out of view. She opened the door.
Leebeebee smiled widely at her in a way that had Mensah’s mind sharpening. She was dressed in an athletic tracksuit with some slightly impractical lace boots and a lot of contrasting jewellery. She was an unexpected sight for the morning and Mensah could feel last night’s tension headache creeping back.
Mensah moved her gaze to Security and her stomach dropped. It couldn’t look any more different from the night before, despite wearing the same tank top track pants outfit. It looked like it had been hit by a car, or at least a few carefully aimed fists. A fresh bruise was forming along the side of its head, its nose was swollen and it overall looked like it had been scraped raw. She hurt just looking at it.
There were droplets of blood staining its rumpled tank.
It had been dark last night but she was pretty sure it had only had its faded bruises, not all these new additions. Was it going out at night to get into fights? She knew sometimes people would do those things but it had seemed pretty non-violent in its interactions with the journalists and her. Leebeebee didn’t seem to be concerned so she hoped that was a sign that it wasn’t into unsavoury activities.
She continued to look it up and down in horror.
Security was standing noticeably crooked with an arm claimed by Leebeebee, and stared off to the side into her apartment. She faintly wondered if it was avoiding eye contact out of shame or just its usual preference.
Mensah held her mouth back from twisting as she looked back at Leebeebee who had dragged Security to her door when it should clearly be resting. She wanted to label them as in a relationship of sorts, for the way her hands were resting around its arm in an overly familiar way, but she didn’t get the impression that they were in a particularly-friendly relationship.
“Good morning.” She managed to get it out. “Is everything alright? Do you need something?” Another look at Security’s beaten face as it turned further away. “A first aid kit? I have a basic one…”
“Morning!” Leebeebee was very cheerful considering the state of her companion. “Nothing about that! Security told me about how it had to help you again last night.”
Mensah looked again between Leebeebee’s overly friendly expectant expression and Security’s dazed eyes. Her concern deepened, it didn’t seem to be tracking their conversation. It reminded her of the early days of getting to know Gurathin, when he misjudged a dose before showing up.
“Yes, I’m very appreciative of its help. Thank you, Security.” She told it sincerely and wasn’t surprised at the lack of response.
“So I thought we would come and offer you some peace of mind!” Leebeebee bulldozed through her attempt to speak with Security, flashing another sharp smile as she leaned more into its personal space and increased her weight on its arm. Security gave a grunt as it braced itself. “It’s a package deal, it can protect you morning and night. You work near here, don’t you? So it’s not far, who better to protect you than my own security, hey?”
She had to wonder what Leebeebee even needed security for.
“Like, your routine is pretty regular so I’m sure all kinds of people are popping up and bothering you. With Security you can shoo them off without any harm done.” She gestured at it. “Don’t let its looks put you off, it wins more than it loses.”
Mensah began to feel cold and anxious over whatever this was, some kind of door-to-door sales opportunity. She doesn’t know these people at all, they live on a different floor. It was just a physically imposing person who had helped her twice, and she was thankful, but it seemed to be into some repeating violent activities. She’d say ‘no thank you’ and close the door but…
Another glance at Security’s blank detached face and the painful bruise spreading across it.
The way it barely responded to Leebeebee’s critique of itself or her hand tracing its arm in an uncomfortably intimate manner.
It looked tired.
(He had always looked so tired too.)
The chill had nothing to do with the late-autumn air as she smiled weakly back at Leebeebee. Was she really considering this? “Is there a standard rate?”
“Oh yes, I’ve got very competitive rates for it.” Leebeebee was all enthusiasm, letting go of Security to step up closer and invade Mensah’s personal space with a flourish. “Carefully calculated of course, to balance its unique talents and its occasional performance issues.” Leebeebee gave her a dramatic wink and she forced herself not to jump to judgements about her unintentional poor phrasing that made it sound like an object for sale. “Nothing a bit of rest won’t fix. It’s no spring chicken but it still functions.”
She wasn’t going to think about that. Not right now.
She was considering this.
Her skin was crawling where Leebeebee had rested an overly friendly hand on hers. She was evidently a very tactile woman.
“Right.” She managed to get out.
“It’s a low hourly rate, although we can organise for it to be on-demand as well since we’re all in the same building. That will come at extra costs. But worth it for the peace of mind and body!” Leebeebee concluded with another overdone wink.
Mensah kept herself calm, she knew what she had to do. “Of course. And when would this start?”
“Wonderful! So glad I can help keep you safe. It’s always a pleasure doing business. I’ll drop the contract and bank details by your apartment later this afternoon, but you’re welcome to start with it this morning. It’s already awake, so why wait? I’ll leave it for you two to sort out.” Leebeebee looked delighted, all friendly and morning-chipper glee that dropped when she turned back to Security. “There you go, I got you another job. Don’t fuck this one up.”
The smile came back on for Mensah, “Security’s a bit weird and shit at talking but don’t take it personally. That’s just how it is. You get used to it.”
She wondered if the same could be said for Leebeebee’s brand of talking.
It was certainly taking an uncomfortable amount of focus not to let an expression cross her face when Leebeebee clumsily reached up twice to eventually plant a kiss on Security’s chin. It didn’t acknowledge Leebeebee at all and Mensah really had to wonder if it was aware of what was going on. “That’s for good luck.” Leebeebee said to it, then patted its chest and adjusted the tank top.
It was an incredibly awkward and almost grotesque display of support that made Mensah’s skin prickle.
Mensah didn’t want to think badly of someone just because they were a bit unconventional in their mannerisms, especially when their companion was also quite unconventional, but there was a part of her that was deeply negative about this whole experience. She needed to talk about this with someone, later, when she wasn’t left in a situation that felt less like hiring a person and more like being rented a broken security camera.
