Title: (Pre)Occupation
Author: theohsocurlyone
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me.
A/N: Written for Round 3.03 of writerinadrawer for the prompt signs and signals, based on some signs seen here; within a 500-word limit. Spoilers, but not particularly strong ones, for Children of Earth. Further notes at the end.
Summary: Predictably enough, as the dust settles, they leave Dekker with the clean-up. He's not at all surprised.

***

Predictably enough, as the dust settles and the assembled politicians surrounding this business try to shake themselves into resembling benevolent overseers once again, they leave Dekker with the clean-up. He's not at all surprised.

It's designed as penance, he thinks, as he dismantles the glass case, glass adorned with vomit stains. A chance of redemption to do this alone; he'd helped to assemble the enemy's new home, after all. It's only fitting that the fragments of that supposed mistake should be left to him to sweep away.

He doesn't mind. Working in the quiet is rather therapeutic; it brings the satisfaction of manual labour, of exercising abandoned muscles, dealing with the tangible. He examines the workings of the cage, remembering plans, numbers; that bizarrely amusing, out of place sign over the power cables, warning about death.

They've taken it away, now. No room for jokes on Floor 13; not after this insane, fascinating rigmarole.

Because it has been fascinating, hasn't it? Any fool can see; distracted as they are. Events like this reveal the bare bones of humanity, the raw adrenaline and unseen stratagems of disaster, and he's free to find it intriguing, to see society start to crumble. He understands the value of detachment when observing chaos. Compassion isn't for the weak; just the pre-occupied, and he can see how badly emotions muddy the waters of simple observation.

He'd seen them, Frobisher, Spears, Captain Harkness, blazing with shame, and a dogged perseverance which paid off, but came at a price. To be free of all of that baggage is a rare blessing. It's almost strangely zen-like.

As he carefully places a wooden plank on the ground in the front of him, the sharp click of a cocked gun pulls him out of his reverie.

He slowly straightens, arms raised in a gesture of what looks like surrender.

"I thought you'd have had your fill," he remarks.

As he turns to face his intruder, he's mildly surprised to see not Captain Harkness, as expected, but Johnson standing before him; gun pointed at his chest. Her aim is dead-on; her intention far from it. It's the eyes; blazing, desperate to blame.

"We're just the remnants," he tells her, not lowering his hands, "You won't gain anything by getting rid of me."

"Remnants?" she asks, her voice brittle.

"Scum of the Earth." he replies, with a grin.

"Shut it!" she hisses. The gun shakes in her hand.

He feels almost sorry for her. Yet, he's not responsible for her doubt, the re-alignment of her ideals. She needs an outlet, a scapegoat, a reason. Doesn't mean he has to acquiesce to her desires. Or that he can. He's only human, after all, despite what she must think of him.

She shakes her head, disgusted, before turning on her heel and running back the way she'd come.

He turns, with a wry chuckle, bending to his knees to examine his handiwork; one finger tracing the oddly flower-shaped stain across the cool glass.

Fascinating.

*********


Further A/N: Dekker puzzled me from the beginning; he really did. I held about ten different theories about him at the start; ranging from him being an alien envoy, to him maybe killing one of the team. Or possibly both. Days Four and Five distracted me a little, but now that they're over, my mind keeps coming back to him. We never learn his motives, the true source of his coldness; yet he's compelling, in a fairly dispicable way. In short, he's fascinating.

***