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[serialskiller]

Messages will be answered when I'm done with this episode of my serial.

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[not_the_last]

"Oh," she sighs, "a number of things, but ... I'm sorry, I'm making a terrible mess of this. It began with apologizing to each other over things we said at the bridge, and somehow before we finished she managed to dig out a tangle of bad feelings I've been stuck in since winter."

A deep breath. "And to convince me that I need to tell you about it."

[serialskiller]

"...oh." It still doesn't understand, but tangles of bad feelings, that it knows damned well. So it squeezes her hand and nods of her to continue, listening thoughtfully. That's its role in all of this, at the moment, just to hear what she needs to say.

[not_the_last]

She squeezes its hand back, grateful for the connection.

"I should ... I must say first, before I go any further, that none of this is your fault. I did not and do not blame you for any of it. Or, or anyone else."

[serialskiller]

"You realize all these delays are making everything worse on my end, right? Cassandra, I need you to just. Start talking. Please. We can work out faults and blames and who's bad for feeling what afterwards, but I need to know what's going on."

This is paired with a small sidelong look to impress upon her how serious it is.

[not_the_last]

She shuts her eyes; she wants to put her face in her hands but one of her hands is held captive. "I'm sorry. I will. Just --"

A deep breath, in and out.

"I've been feeling jealous. Of Helena. Jealous and, and inferior. Since ... since the trial."

[serialskiller]

Security blinks a couple times.

"And you've been sitting on that and stewing this long. Half a year of that, rotting in you. Cassandra, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard from you. Not the jealousy itself, but that you've let it last this long. So. What exactly are you jealous of? What does she have, that you want?"

[not_the_last]

"Oh," she says bitterly, eyes still shut, "no, I think you'll agree that the jealousy itself is the stupid thing. I've let it last this long because I've been trying to convince myself out of it, because it is stupid. Selfish and childish and pointless, because it isn't about anything she has that I want."

It's easier to bear when it comes from yourself, isn't it? murmurs Helena in her memory. Because you would rather call how you feel idiotic ... than risk an answer that would hurt you.

Oh but watch, mocks her own voice, I can do both at once.

"It started because you left with her."

[serialskiller]

There's a long thoughtful silence.

And then a long heavy sigh.

"And you don't think I should be sorry, for not recognizing there's a thing there sooner. Cass, I can't go back and fix that moment in the past, but I do want to be here for you. So. What do you need, now?"

[not_the_last]

She shakes her head, in denial of its words. "You've been here for me. You haven't done anything wrong. There was nothing to fix, even if you could."

The fingers of her free hand close in on themselves, in silent struggle.

[serialskiller]

It doesn't miss that gesture.

"...I brought my blanket down here because I thought this talk might be hard somehow. Do you want to go under the table and let me hold you and cuddle into the blanket while we talk?"

[not_the_last]

There's a long silence before Cassandra nods -- unsteadily, her shoulders hunching -- and whispers "Yes, please."

[serialskiller]

"Okay." And without any shame, it lets go of her hand and just slips right under the table. Tablecloths make for perfect little hiding spots, after all.

[not_the_last]

There's next to no hesitation before she slides down beside it, curling into a little huddle against its side.

Somehow, irrationally, it's easier to forego dignity like this, with the tablecloth shutting out the world.

[serialskiller]

And it tucks an arm over her and lets out a sound remarkably like a contented sigh.

It is a contented sigh.

"We have known one another for nine months now. You are important to me. I cherish time spent with you. And I need to say things like that more often, aloud, where you can hear them. So you know them."

[not_the_last]

"I know," she says, muffled, into its shirt. "I do know. And you're important to me too, and I shouldn't have ..." She swallows. "It wasn't even just you, that day. Erin was hiding in Crabb's pocket, and Crichton didn't see me until later, and ... and everyone else I might have looked to was dead."

[serialskiller]

"And all of that was a splinter right in your circulatory pump, that's been stabbing you periodically ever since then. Right?" Its hand rubs slow circles on her back, heavy and warm. "I'm going to be obnoxious and quote poetry at you now. And it's going to bug you, because you know I learned it from Helena, but I want you to listen to it."

Its voice lowers to a soft, resonant murmur.

"I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

"And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

"And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

"And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree."

[not_the_last]

She curls up tighter as it softly recites, shrinks in on herself. Doesn't make a sound for several seconds, after it finishes.

"Is that ..." Her voice is smaller than it has ever heard. "Is that what you think I've done?"

[serialskiller]

"No, I think you've done worse and poisoned yourself. You made it so I couldn't offer a reassurance to someone I care about. Don't do that again. Please? I'm not good at reading people or situations, I had no clue this was going on."

It's exasperated, but it's not angry.

[not_the_last]

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and there's the tiniest tremor in it, as of fighting tears. "Truly. I -- it seemed unfair to tell you, and --"

A hitching breath. "And I was ashamed."

[serialskiller]

And Security leans in and kisses the top of her head, pulling her in closer to itself, letting out a rumble that isn't a laugh.

"Oh, Cass."

[not_the_last]

She buries her face in its chest and clings, struggling to hold down the sob in her chest that wants to get out.

[serialskiller]

"You can let go, Cass. I'm not going to be chased off because you let your feelings loose. You know that, right?"

It's barely vocalizing, the words a low rumble just for her.

[not_the_last]

"I just," she starts, and "I want," and "it isn't --"

It feels like dragging a barbed arrow out of herself, like it's going to pull out half of her insides with it.

"I don't come first for anyone here," she manages, finally, as the tears start running scalding trails down her cheeks. "Nor for anyone at home. Except the people I pay to guard me. I just want. To come first for someone. And that, that's selfish and I know it."

[serialskiller]

"It's a very human sort of thing to want."

And it's utterly orthogonal to how Security even works. To view Helena as 'coming first' is a fierce misunderstanding of the nature of crew. But that's not going to be helpful to voice aloud, is it?

"Like...and don't tell him I've voiced this thought, but I think part of why Max is still so emotionally entangled with his Master is that he 'came first' to him." That might not be much more helpful.

[not_the_last]

"Gods," she chokes out in sudden bitter vehemence, "isn't that bloody likely. What a, a wretched thing to need."

Roughly, impatiently, she dashes wetness off of her face with one hand.