"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."
"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."
"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."
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.
"I don't think it's wretched. I just...it's not something I can offer. To anyone. And I'm sorry for that. I can give you time, and energy, and comfort. But right now I'm scared that it won't be enough."
And it does mean scared. These talks are times of vulnerability for it too.
"You did. That doesn't mean my first instinct isn't to want to find some way to make it better for you. You're in pain and I love you and I always want to make life less painful for my crew. I just don't always know how to."
It squeezes back, tighter than strictly necessary, but not tight enough to cause harm.
"You can have this. Anytime you want. You just need to ask. Or make it clear that this is what you want. Okay?" Humans. It could be more frustrated, but instead it's at peace, knowing it's all coming out.
"Okay," she whispers. It's a very strange feeling, being reassured and subtly scolded at the same time; and then it isn't strange at all, it feels like something out of her childhood.
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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."
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"Is that ..." Her voice is smaller than it has ever heard. "Is that what you think I've done?"
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It's exasperated, but it's not angry.
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A hitching breath. "And I was ashamed."
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"Oh, Cass."
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It's barely vocalizing, the words a low rumble just for her.
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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."
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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.
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Roughly, impatiently, she dashes wetness off of her face with one hand.
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And it does mean scared. These talks are times of vulnerability for it too.
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"Please don't be," she says, her voice low and unsteady. "I don't -- I said this isn't your fault."
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It squeezes back, tighter than strictly necessary, but not tight enough to cause harm.
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"I don't know how to ... address the problem," she mumbles. "But this helps."
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"I, I'll remember."
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"Thank you," she whispers, and it sounds a little like I love you.