[ He gave a soft snort, then reached for the bottle. ]
Not even a little.
It was Talissa's father's company. She wanted me on the ground, wanted me to be there for Melas. [ And for her, while she was pregnant again, but when his mind got to that part of the memory it make his heart stagger and stutter and he didn't voice it. He ploughed on, instead. ]
I tried my best. I really did. But every day my best was less and less. It was hell, Gunny, I ain't gonna lie. I wouldn't wish a desk job on anyone.
Anythin'. Bein' a father, bein' a husband - the only thing I've ever been half way decent at was flyin.
[ He took another drink - more than he should have - and swayed a little bit. ]
It wasn't an option. Flyin'. Even after - after everythin' - when I said I needed to fly, she-- [ He cut off, miserably. ] I needed to be there, but even when I was there, I wasn't good enough. Never was.
[ It was the truth, she never said "you aren't good enough". She'd said a lot of other things, but. He swallowed, looking a little green, then quietly, almost to himself: ]
She said there was no point, if I was goin' to keep flying. To us bein' married at all. And she - hell, Gunny, she was right. What the hell use was I, all the way out there. But it was still the only thing I was ever good at.
[ A heavy guilt settled over him, shoulders lowering. ]
She wanted a big family, Gunny. A good Martian family. And I - God, I tried, we both did, but it just didn't--
[ He swallowed, trying to push the memory away, and his voice got quieter. ]
It's my fault. I'm pretty sure. But it just - I didn't even think I wanted it, and I couldn't just- to go through that and not even know if you wanted it anyway... [ He was drunk. He was very drunk. He was being vague, but he shouldn't have been talking about this at all. ]
What'd'you want me to say, Gunny? [ He looks down into his bottle. ]
She's probably dead. They're both probably dead. I ain't gonna claim it was like - a great romantic movie, or anything, but I did love her. [ He didn't sound as sure as he should have, mostly because he couldn't get his sister's voice out of his head. He didn't even really realise that he put it in the past tense. ]
An' it made sense. My folks were damn happy. When it was workin', anyway.
[ His face fell. ]
Just glad my dad never got to see when it - least he didn't have to see that.
[Her mouth twists, and she certainly catches the past tense, but she doesn't argue it, even though she's starting to think maybe his pining for her is more out of guilt than anything else.]
You're not a failure, Alex. Maybe you weren't cut out to be a perfect husband planetside, but you impress the hell out of me.
[ He could feel the heat behind his eyes, a feeling that he couldn't quite pin point filling him up from the chest outward. Touched, maybe. Just incredibly touched, that she would say that, and believe it.
He had to swallow, so that it didn't break in his voice when he spoke. ]
Thanks, Gunny.
[ He swallowed again, blinking a little too much. Come on, Kamal. Keep it together. He pulled in a long breath, went to take another drink, but paused - watching the curve of the planet disappear around the other side of the station, and the sky fill with nothing but velvet black pinpointed with stars. ]
... I know I shouldn't wish this place on anyone, [ He started carefully, his voice quiet, ] But I'm damn glad you're here, Gunny. I don't think I'd be able to handle this place without you.
[ It's strange, how some touches mean more than others. And it wasn't like he and Bobbie didn't have a lot of physical contact - she'd hugged him several times, now. And yet there was a weird shiver of electricity in his fingers as they brushed hers, though he didn't comment on it. He just let her take the bottle, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
He couldn't very well lie to himself and pretend he didn't have a weakspot for her, at this point.
All the more reason to keep his damn mouth shut.
But he glanced over, and she was smiling at him, and something stupid and warm curled in his chest anyway.
God damn it.
He offered a smile back, honest, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was glad that she felt like he supported her, too. Though he didn't know what to say about it. So he focused on the rest.]
Nah. Amos, Naomi - they're a hell of a lot tougher than me. Same with you. I just don't totally understand how we keep endin' up right in the middle of the shit storm.
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Not even a little.
It was Talissa's father's company. She wanted me on the ground, wanted me to be there for Melas. [ And for her, while she was pregnant again, but when his mind got to that part of the memory it make his heart stagger and stutter and he didn't voice it. He ploughed on, instead. ]
I tried my best. I really did. But every day my best was less and less. It was hell, Gunny, I ain't gonna lie. I wouldn't wish a desk job on anyone.
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I get why you left. I probably would have, too.
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[ It came out a little fast, and he took another swig of the bottle. ]
... At least not all of it. I could have stuck it out, if anythin' else was workin'. But I was just - Christ, Gunny, I wasn't good at any of it.
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[She's not sure if he means his job or being a father or husband, or maybe all of it.]
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[ He took another drink - more than he should have - and swayed a little bit. ]
It wasn't an option. Flyin'. Even after - after everythin' - when I said I needed to fly, she-- [ He cut off, miserably. ] I needed to be there, but even when I was there, I wasn't good enough. Never was.
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Did she tell you that? That you weren't good enough?
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[ It was the truth, she never said "you aren't good enough". She'd said a lot of other things, but. He swallowed, looking a little green, then quietly, almost to himself: ]
She said there was no point, if I was goin' to keep flying. To us bein' married at all. And she - hell, Gunny, she was right. What the hell use was I, all the way out there. But it was still the only thing I was ever good at.
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She said there was no point?
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She wanted a big family, Gunny. A good Martian family. And I - God, I tried, we both did, but it just didn't--
[ He swallowed, trying to push the memory away, and his voice got quieter. ]
It's my fault. I'm pretty sure. But it just - I didn't even think I wanted it, and I couldn't just- to go through that and not even know if you wanted it anyway... [ He was drunk. He was very drunk. He was being vague, but he shouldn't have been talking about this at all. ]
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[It's a pretty blunt question, but she's trying to wrap her head around this whole situation. ]
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You sound like my sister. [ He mumbles it as he takes another drink straight from the bottle.
...
That wasn't an answer, Alex... ]
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Are you going to answer me?
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She's probably dead. They're both probably dead. I ain't gonna claim it was like - a great romantic movie, or anything, but I did love her. [ He didn't sound as sure as he should have, mostly because he couldn't get his sister's voice out of his head. He didn't even really realise that he put it in the past tense. ]
An' it made sense. My folks were damn happy. When it was workin', anyway.
[ His face fell. ]
Just glad my dad never got to see when it - least he didn't have to see that.
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You're not a failure, Alex. Maybe you weren't cut out to be a perfect husband planetside, but you impress the hell out of me.
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He had to swallow, so that it didn't break in his voice when he spoke. ]
Thanks, Gunny.
[ He swallowed again, blinking a little too much. Come on, Kamal. Keep it together. He pulled in a long breath, went to take another drink, but paused - watching the curve of the planet disappear around the other side of the station, and the sky fill with nothing but velvet black pinpointed with stars. ]
... I know I shouldn't wish this place on anyone, [ He started carefully, his voice quiet, ] But I'm damn glad you're here, Gunny. I don't think I'd be able to handle this place without you.
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I think you're tougher than you give yourself credit for, but I'm glad I make it a little easier. You make it easier on me, too.
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He couldn't very well lie to himself and pretend he didn't have a weakspot for her, at this point.
All the more reason to keep his damn mouth shut.
But he glanced over, and she was smiling at him, and something stupid and warm curled in his chest anyway.
God damn it.
He offered a smile back, honest, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was glad that she felt like he supported her, too. Though he didn't know what to say about it. So he focused on the rest.]
Nah. Amos, Naomi - they're a hell of a lot tougher than me. Same with you. I just don't totally understand how we keep endin' up right in the middle of the shit storm.
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Lucky us, huh? Maybe it's because we're all so damn stubborn.
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Though sometimes I get this weird feelin' that--
[ He let out a breath. ]
It can't just be random, right? Maybe all this - maybe this all ties into the protocrap, in the end, and stuff finally makes some god damn sense.
Maybe we're supposed to be here.
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... Would be a pretty god damn terrible sort of fate, I guess, wouldn't it.
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Yeah, maybe, but I'd rather go down fighting than wasting away of old age in a hospital bed.
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[ He nods slowly. ]
Yeah. Can't pretend it doesn't scare the ever livin' shit out of me, but - me too.
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And I can't help shake the feelin' that - I don't know. [ His fingers curled, tapping against the glass of the bottle. ]
That we ain't seen the worst of it, yet.
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