Then you know about the Merriweather Lewis and my hand and leg.
[And how a board had to ground him for medical reasons, a shattered hand and plasma burns aren't easy to recover from and he still feels them.
But he keeps his back to her, rubbing his hand instead of his pipe and hunched over. He's hurt, in more ways then he'd like to admit and he's not going to push her, he'll never push her. He'll deal with this all on his own and let her have her space even if he wants her.
As much as he needs her, he'll never push.]
Take your time. What I said earlier is true, I can wait.
[For once, she truly is. She doesn't know how to deal with any of this, and she's never properly dealt with that dying business. It hasn't gotten any better, and now that she knows he went through something so terrible that it's classified, and that Miranda suffers, and that so many of her Spartans are gone, she can't handle it.
She retreats further back into the container, clearing her throat but not able to chase the shake from her voice. She'd been so calm and so clear and she has to be the robot she made herself into, the machine, science and logic. People die here. They come back. It's all an illusion, or something like it.
[He hears that shake in her voice and wants to turn around and pull her close and sob. To comfort her and maybe comfort himself and not break his hand punching walls. To delay that chat with Chief, to try and ignore his death, Miranda's death, Cortana's death and other things.
He's frustrated enough, angry enough, at her, at them, at this lack of talking to punch the door when he gets to it. He's starting to think he'll need someone to check it over at the feeling he gets after that punch but he shrugs it off, thankful he did that and doesn't yell.
He wants comfort, but he's not going to get that. She's already confirmed that.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. [Though his voice clearly says he won't be.] Just take care of yourself, I'll be fine.
[Him saying it out loud just makes things worse. Of course he'll be fine, once he mourns the daughter he so dearly loved, the daughter who is still just a child to both of them and who now they know will be lost all too soon.
She loses everything.
Not Dr. Halsey. Catherine.
She steadies herself on a crate inside the container. Her voice is hoarse.]
[He can't help punching the door again because her admitting it is so much worse. It makes things real, it makes it so much worse to know that she's cracking and he can't lean on her.
But he can help her, can help her cope with it all and he turns to look at her, pain from his loss written all across his face and tears almost there in his eyes.
It takes him all but a moment to cave and carefully go back to her, that limp still there.]
[She lowers herself carefully to sit on the crate, head held in one hand, thumb massaging her temple as the other hand nervously casts through her hair.]
There's too much to process. I can't take one thing at a time and you know--of all people you know how difficult this is. [Don't make it about yourself, Catherine.] What if I never see either of you again? Or any of them? What if I never said goodbye, or anything else I should have said?
[He lets her and then carefully sits on a crate next to her, resting his hand against his chest as he digs out his pipe and chews on the tip, finally caving to the habit.]
Make good on those worries here, say goodbye, try and know them, say what you need too. So you know, or they do at least, that you feel that way. That you said what you wanted too. [He leaves his pipe in his mouth as he rests a hand on her back hesitantly, talking around it now.] Don't live in a future you've yet to live, live for the now.
I was the one who said it wasn't me, that I don't deserve to be treated like what they were describing. But I do. And I know that--you know that. But when it's passed in front of me, I have to admit it's difficult.
[She glances up when he starts talking around the pipe. It's oddly soothing when he does that, and it helps her fight back the tears that are welling up, calms the lump in her throat.]
It's difficult to comprehend any of it.
[A cough. Things are crashing down, mentally, and she can feel her mind spiraling into a place she's never had it go, somewhere she wants to pull out of but can't.]
[He's using it to not cry himself, so if it helps her then it's a bonus, and he just adjusts it carefully with his injured hand.]
The future usually is, it's why we can't see it. [Why is he getting all wise? He rubs her back though at her cough, hoping it helps her in some way.]
All we can do is be ourselves, and hope they realize we aren't our future selves. Don't try and comprehend something you may never understand while here.
There are things I cannot set right. Things I won't set right.
[A long breath now, and she calms herself, her voice steadying.]
I'm not sure if I want to try. But I would give so much to see Miranda again. Just to tell her... that I love her. That I'm proud of her, no matter what she does. That I should've been there.
[She's actually shocked at her own words, that she's allowing anything to come from her heart, but... Maybe if she says it now she'll never have to say it again.]
[He keeps rubbing her back, wincing as he lets his fingers curl up but otherwise doesn't show his problems there.]
At least she would know, she would know a lot of things if you told her. I think it would do you both good if you did, I know there have been times I wish you were there for her.
[He's happy for this, happy for a lot of things, but mostly that she wants to share that with her. To have his ladies getting along, to have them talking, that's really more than he could ever ask.
It's a nice dream, even if it'll never happen. But at least it's something Catherine, to some extent, seems to share.]
[She shares it, if only because of the hell they're going through. She misses her somewhat comfortable office right now. The coffee. The idle letters she wrote and never sent.]
My work was always so much more important. More urgent. She deserved to be cared for.
[He looks down, frowning, thinking as he takes his pipe back and puts it back in his mouth, shifting it to one side.]
I've tried to raise her like I thought you would approve of. Kept her studying, focused, on everything. [Perhaps he was putting to much pressure on the girl, it wouldn't surprise him, but he wants Catherine to be proud of her.]
[Finally, she realizes she's started pulling at her hair again, and lets her hands rest on her lap. One is then moved to Jacob's knee. Again, as the first day, they're two grieving parents. Only this time they have something real to grieve. Their own failure, or perhaps success, depending upon how you view the world.]
She still does, caught her taking over the entire apartment doing it.
[His hand slides from her back to her shoulder furthest away from him to pull her into a hug, to keep her close. At least here there's no one to interrupt them.]
[He pulls her closer and she sighs, shuddering before she finally, finally lets herself process everything. John's words. Revelations about Jacob, about Miranda, about humanity itself. And she still doesn't know what to do but to clutch at the cloth of Jacob's pants and move in just a little closer.
She can't be alone. She's not ready to be alone, even if she tells herself she should be, should be tough, shouldn't let Jacob see her break any more than she already has.
Biting her tongue, she turns her head toward him and presses her cheek to his shoulder.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Then you know about the Merriweather Lewis and my hand and leg.
[And how a board had to ground him for medical reasons, a shattered hand and plasma burns aren't easy to recover from and he still feels them.
But he keeps his back to her, rubbing his hand instead of his pipe and hunched over. He's hurt, in more ways then he'd like to admit and he's not going to push her, he'll never push her. He'll deal with this all on his own and let her have her space even if he wants her.
As much as he needs her, he'll never push.]
Take your time. What I said earlier is true, I can wait.
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[For once, she truly is. She doesn't know how to deal with any of this, and she's never properly dealt with that dying business. It hasn't gotten any better, and now that she knows he went through something so terrible that it's classified, and that Miranda suffers, and that so many of her Spartans are gone, she can't handle it.
She retreats further back into the container, clearing her throat but not able to chase the shake from her voice. She'd been so calm and so clear and she has to be the robot she made herself into, the machine, science and logic. People die here. They come back. It's all an illusion, or something like it.
Yes, that helps.]
Please... take care of yourself.
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He's frustrated enough, angry enough, at her, at them, at this lack of talking to punch the door when he gets to it. He's starting to think he'll need someone to check it over at the feeling he gets after that punch but he shrugs it off, thankful he did that and doesn't yell.
He wants comfort, but he's not going to get that. She's already confirmed that.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. [Though his voice clearly says he won't be.] Just take care of yourself, I'll be fine.
[If he says it out loud it'll be true, right?]
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She loses everything.
Not Dr. Halsey. Catherine.
She steadies herself on a crate inside the container. Her voice is hoarse.]
Jacob, I'm not fine.
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But he can help her, can help her cope with it all and he turns to look at her, pain from his loss written all across his face and tears almost there in his eyes.
It takes him all but a moment to cave and carefully go back to her, that limp still there.]
Then let me help, Catherine.
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There's too much to process. I can't take one thing at a time and you know--of all people you know how difficult this is. [Don't make it about yourself, Catherine.] What if I never see either of you again? Or any of them? What if I never said goodbye, or anything else I should have said?
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Make good on those worries here, say goodbye, try and know them, say what you need too. So you know, or they do at least, that you feel that way. That you said what you wanted too. [He leaves his pipe in his mouth as he rests a hand on her back hesitantly, talking around it now.] Don't live in a future you've yet to live, live for the now.
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[She glances up when he starts talking around the pipe. It's oddly soothing when he does that, and it helps her fight back the tears that are welling up, calms the lump in her throat.]
It's difficult to comprehend any of it.
[A cough. Things are crashing down, mentally, and she can feel her mind spiraling into a place she's never had it go, somewhere she wants to pull out of but can't.]
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The future usually is, it's why we can't see it. [Why is he getting all wise? He rubs her back though at her cough, hoping it helps her in some way.]
All we can do is be ourselves, and hope they realize we aren't our future selves. Don't try and comprehend something you may never understand while here.
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[A long breath now, and she calms herself, her voice steadying.]
I'm not sure if I want to try. But I would give so much to see Miranda again. Just to tell her... that I love her. That I'm proud of her, no matter what she does. That I should've been there.
[She's actually shocked at her own words, that she's allowing anything to come from her heart, but... Maybe if she says it now she'll never have to say it again.]
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At least she would know, she would know a lot of things if you told her. I think it would do you both good if you did, I know there have been times I wish you were there for her.
[He's happy for this, happy for a lot of things, but mostly that she wants to share that with her. To have his ladies getting along, to have them talking, that's really more than he could ever ask.
It's a nice dream, even if it'll never happen. But at least it's something Catherine, to some extent, seems to share.]
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My work was always so much more important. More urgent. She deserved to be cared for.
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She, doesn't understand it, many don't. She was lucky I was grounded when you brought her too me, I can't promise I'll be there in the coming years.
[He has a ship, and for the first time in a while he's realizing what it's taking him away from.]
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[Reaching for the pipe, now.]
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She already is, studying old naval battles and the like. She likes museums too.
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I'm guessing they're not science museums.
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On occasion, can't live on Luna without them being around. I try to keep her interests varied.
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[Cradling the pipe in both hands, she holds it near her chin, inhaling the faint aroma of long-gone tobacco.]
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No, she studies too much to ever ask about anything. Except what ship I'm on. [He feels like, in some ways, he's failed Catherine in that regard.]
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[It weighs on her for a moment, but Jacob would do what was best for Miranda, even if that meant not mentioning her at all.
She turns the pipe over once more before handing it back to him.]
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[He looks down, frowning, thinking as he takes his pipe back and puts it back in his mouth, shifting it to one side.]
I've tried to raise her like I thought you would approve of. Kept her studying, focused, on everything. [Perhaps he was putting to much pressure on the girl, it wouldn't surprise him, but he wants Catherine to be proud of her.]
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[Finally, she realizes she's started pulling at her hair again, and lets her hands rest on her lap. One is then moved to Jacob's knee. Again, as the first day, they're two grieving parents. Only this time they have something real to grieve. Their own failure, or perhaps success, depending upon how you view the world.]
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[His hand slides from her back to her shoulder furthest away from him to pull her into a hug, to keep her close. At least here there's no one to interrupt them.]
She'd put me to shame in some ways I think.
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[He pulls her closer and she sighs, shuddering before she finally, finally lets herself process everything. John's words. Revelations about Jacob, about Miranda, about humanity itself. And she still doesn't know what to do but to clutch at the cloth of Jacob's pants and move in just a little closer.
She can't be alone. She's not ready to be alone, even if she tells herself she should be, should be tough, shouldn't let Jacob see her break any more than she already has.
Biting her tongue, she turns her head toward him and presses her cheek to his shoulder.]
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But instead he just presses her closer to his shoulder, his grip tightening around her and rests his face on top of her head.]
Don't, Catherine. Just don't.
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