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serialskiller

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

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From:

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?"

From:

not_the_last

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

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

Edited Date: 2023-06-16 05:13 am (UTC)

From:

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."

From:

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."

From:

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?"

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

serialskiller

"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.

From:

not_the_last

With her other hand, the one not covered in tears, she tries to find one of its hands to squeeze.

"Please don't be," she says, her voice low and unsteady. "I don't -- I said this isn't your fault."

From:

serialskiller

"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.

From:

not_the_last

A slow, just slightly shaky breath. Another. The wetness on her cheeks, on her hand, has cooled as it begins to evaporate off her skin.

"I don't know how to ... address the problem," she mumbles. "But this helps."

From:

serialskiller

"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.

From:

not_the_last

"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.

"I, I'll remember."