Vasquez spent the evening relaxing with Jason, dozing off for a time, but eventually she staggered off to the bathroom long enough to get ready for bed. Sinking into the luxurious bed with Jason at her side was a welcome respite from the exhausting tension of the last weeks, and sleep came easy at first, even if it didn't last as long as it ought to. It's 4AM when she jolts awake, blinking and looking around during that
#Torthus-CrossBuilding – February 19, 2019
moment of confusion before she remembers where she is. A few heavy breaths follow as her heart starts to slow, but the synthetic arm wrapped around her feels heavy and constrictive. It somehow feels all the more alien with Jason asleep, as if less a part of him without his consciousness there to control it. Without the familiar patterns of movement and the sense of intent behind the touch. She can't help it, she
slips out of his grasp, sitting up on the edge of the bed as she calms herself. It's early. Very early. Still dark outside. A different dark than Freedom Falls though. City lights that illuminate the dark outside. Although the temperature is comfortable in the bedroom, the big glass window makes her feel oddly exposed in just her panties, so she wraps a blanket from the bed over her shoulders before heading over to
the glass door, sliding it aside quietly, hoping to let Jason rest for as long as possible. Goodness knows he's earned some rest. Wrapped in the blanket she takes a seat in one of the chairs on the balcony, her attention drawn to the view that has unveiled itself with the clearing of the storm.
Thanks to the transparent barrier that encases the balcony the temperature isn't unbearable, but it's certainly much colder than the comfort of the climate controlled bedroom. That could be rectified, of course, as even the balcony can be heated. But it would take time and either her omni-tool, a trip to one of the interfaces that allow access to the room's many luxuries, or an interaction with Valea. After Illium and Earth, a room
on the 44th floor shouldn't be all that impressive. But considering just how much it dwarfs everything else around it in Adrasteia, like a pillar jutting up from the center, it strikes an imposing view. Sightlines are unimpeded in every direction, allowing one to see past the city limits where old abandoned- in places even crumbling- buildings taper off into sheets of white and a vast nothingness. Down below, darkness is
illuminated by neon signs reflecting off of the snowfall accumulated along the ground from businesses that never sleep. Around-the-clock PSAs run on holographic interfaces that can be seen at the street level.
Jason isn't the heaviest of sleepers in the best of conditions, and the past year hasn't exactly provided great conditions. So, much like Vasquez, it's been another restless night for him. Another familiar nightmare. More 'memory' than nightmare, perhaps. But these days there's not a whole lot of difference between the two. Paralysis. Death creeps closer. Watching. Analyzing. But Jason is unable to move. Unable to speak.
Unable to fight. All he can do is watch. Watch, and wait as his entire body is submerged into a sea of yellow. And then there's the dream. A dream within a dream. Only bits and pieces remain in his memory. A familiar house that isn't his. A familiar daughter that isn't his. A familiar bed that isn't his. A familiar life that isn't his. The ideal life. The perfect life. But it's all just a cruel reminder that he won't
be around to see it come to fruition. A trick his mind plays on him as the viscous fluid enters his lungs. And then, suddenly- perhaps due to the disturbance beside him- he jolts back to life in a cold sweat despite the ideal room climate. His first instinct is to reach over. Make sure Vasquez is there. When his patting turns up nothing, a deep panic sets in and he pushes himself into a seated position, frantically
looking about. The sight of the silhouette through the floor-to-ceiling window seated outside on the balcony clears the lump in his throat and allows him to steal a few deep breaths of relief as his eyes shut and he tries to swim through the confusion of being pulled from his nightmare. From his memory. For a while he merely sits, his eyes adjusting to the dark as he looks about the room. At the familiar bed that
isn't his. In the familiar room that isn't his. He does his best to fight off the tension that settles into his shoulders as he escapes the bed in nothing more than a pair of grey boxer briefs and grips the glass of water on the nightstand. He takes a long sip to clear away the dryness in his mouth, cradling the glass in his hand before silently making his way over to the balcony doorway. But he remains quiet for the
Vasquez doesn't seem to mind the chill on the balcony. Not yet anyway. She just wraps herself tighter in the blanket, lifting her legs onto the chair as well to avoid the cold floor. She just draws in a deep breath and lets her gaze wander across the myriad of lights below. Following the arbitrarily chosen lights of a lonely vehicle on one of the streets. She doesn't seem to notice Jason approaching the open doorway, too
Jason remains in the doorway for a few moments, gaze turning from his wife to the view beyond the barrier before settling back onto the former as he tries to blink away the remnants of sleep. Seeing her framed in the darkness brings back the inescapable vision of sharp, spined trees and a downpour of rain. It's an image that carries no blame. Just guilt. Because it will stay with him. Follow him into old age, should he be
lucky enough to make it there. It causes him to glance down at the cybernetic arms folded across his chest, one gripping the glass against the crook of his opposite elbow. A small, hollow smile crosses his face as he runs his thumb against the cold surface- its temperature only noticeable when it leans up against his bare chest. It wasn't her fault. It's not even something he has to remind himself. It's a
fact that he immediately accepted. It's just something he needs to repeat to chastise himself for even allowing any of that to infiltrate his thoughts. "Trouble sleeping?" he asks, his voice low and barely awake as he steps out onto the balcony proper, the bottom of his feet met by the cold ground. But it's a welcome chill. One that he lets overtake him as he steps forward and grips the railing with his free hand.
Vasquez blinks, her thoughts brought back to the present by Jason's voice, looking to her side as he joins her, studying him in the dim, ambient light. "Yeah..." she sighs quietly, looking out at the city again. "Did I wake you?" she asks quietly, the grid of yellows and whites and blues that spreads out below reflected in her brown eyes as she looks down at it.
Jason gives a small shake of his head, taking one last sip of water before extending the glass towards her. "Nah." he says, and it's half true. It's not often that he gets a full night's sleep these days anyway. So whether it was her slipping out of bed or the crushing weight of the demons on his shoulders is mostly irrelevant.
Vasquez lets her hands leave the blanket to accept the glass, taking a sip. She shifts the glass from her left to her right, her gaze on Jason's hand for a moment before reaching for it with her left, squeezing as she looks out again. "It's a nice view..." she muses quietly. Tiredly. Her voice trails off into a soft sigh. "Reminds me of Illium." Of sitting on the balcony with Jason. Of a different time. Just as messy. But
in a different way. The view is different too. No glowing spires of endless cityscape to get lost in. They're alone, looking out above the rest, below. Unaware.
Jason gives a small nod as his hand is taken, returning the squeeze with one of his own. A small, gentle gesture that took far more practice to get down than he'd ever admit. But he had more than enough motivation to get his fine motor skills back up to snuff. A terrorist organization had the woman he loved. How's that for a kick in the ass to get you going? Just one more crazy rung on this fucked up ladder that is their
Jason life. "Yeah..." he tries to agree, but it comes out a bit hollow, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. He pulls his hand back, resting it against the railing with his other. Pressing his forehead against the barrier, he looks out towards the city below, the barrier's presence only making itself known when his skin comes in contact with it. A small distortion of dimmed light around the point of impact. Soon enough his
Jason blue eyes shut as he tries to ward off the remnants of sleep and the nightmares that it carries.
Vasquez ' attention is drawn back to Jason as the barrier flickers faintly upon his head touching it. Her eyebrows furrow a little upon studying the look on his face, and she reaches out from where she's seated, running a hand up his back. "Hey..." she says softly, leaning in to brush her head against his side, turning to press a light kiss against his skin.
Jason's eyes slowly open as he feels the pair of lips against his side. "Hmm?" he hums in response, rolling his head against the barrier to look her way. The familiar lopsided grin returns to his face, but there's not much behind it. Between still trying to wake up and whatever it is that's plaguing his thoughts, it comes across as empty. "You good?" he asks, drawing in a cold, deep breath to try and help with dispelling
Jason's the lingering sleep as he brings his hand closest that's to Vasquez to her shoulder opposite of him as she leans against him.
Vasquez ' head lifts to look up at Jason, a faint, saddened smile meeting that shielding grin that she sees. "Are you?" she replies, with a tone that makes it obvious both what her answer is and that she's well aware Jason's is the same. Her hand hooks around his far side, thumb brushing back and forth across battle-scarred skin as she studies him. Her expression is a gentle one, made more so by the softening of her
Jason draws in a breath, his grin falling away with it and he gives another small nod- almost apologetic in nature- as his gaze returns to the city on the other side of the barrier. His gaze, but not his thoughts. As far as they're concerned, Adrasteia may as well be across the galaxy. A silence permeates the balcony as his eyes shift closed once again and he tries to desperately ward off the encroaching thoughts. And, for
Jason a time, that's how he remains. Silent and motionless, ignoring the goosebumps that run along his cold skin as he navigates his thoughts. "I almost lost you out there..." he eventually says, voicing that which keeps haunting him night after night. His voice is quiet. Little more than a whisper against the transparent barrier in front of him.
Vasquez scoots her chair back and stands up. She moves up behind Jason, draping the blanket over his shoulders too, her arms moving beneath his to wrap around him, hands grabbing the edges of the blanket to keep it in place around them as she rests her head on his shoulder, joining him in looking out at the city. Her warm body presses close against the cold skin of his back. "I'm right here." she reminds in a soft whisper.
Jason draws in another breath, a few small nods acknowledging both her presence and her words. Moreso to himself than to her. It doesn't even seem to register with him just how backwards his statement was. That it was the other way around. "I'm sorry." he says, gaze lowering to the railing. The light of the barrier brightens almost imperceptibly as the shifting of his head causes him to put more pressure against it. Rather
than give any context for just what it is he's apologizing for, he merely repeats himself, his quiet voice threatening to crack. "...I'm so sorry, Linda..."
Vasquez tightens her embrace a little, shifting her head to glimpse his face. "Hey..." she says, a gentle worry in her voice. "Hey, it's-... what are you sorry for...?" she prods carefully, unsure just where his mind has gone.
Jason gives a shake of his head, brow furrowing as he studies the railing. The cybernetic hands gripping it. For a time it seems as if he has no intention of answering her as that desire to avoid discussing that which makes him uncomfortable threatens to win out yet again. But that tension in his shoulders gradually begins to slip away as he allows himself to be enveloped by the warmth of the woman at
his back. The woman he loves. There's an unfamiliar city below. An unfamiliar bedroom behind him. And an unfamiliar view before him. But that touch is familiar. He's been all over the galaxy, but that touch is home. "I never should've went..." he says. It's an admission. But it's also dripping of guilt. Guilt over what it means to acknowledge it. To entertain such a thought. To admit that saving Li's life
wouldn't have been worth what he almost gave up. It's a struggle for him to even get the words out without emotion overtaking him but he manages, drawing a breath in through his nose to calm himself.
Vasquez lets out a quiet sigh as the dots connect in her head. She lets her scarred cheek rest against Jason's neck as she closes her eyes, going silent. She had been angry when he left. So very angry. At him, for leaving her alone before their new future had even begun. For risking incredible danger when they had others that could go instead. For not letting her go with, even though she knew she couldn't. At the situation
she was in. At the reality that she couldn't be there at his side like she was supposed to be. Fighting this together. It was their fight, and not being there to watch his back was hell. At herself, for letting their goodbye be what it was. For being too caught up in her anger to make sure he knew how much she loves him. She'd been a mess as she waited. But Jason came back. Of course he did. And he'd brought Li
back too. Because that's what he does. Save people. And isn't that the man she loves? The one that cares so much. "You had to." she says after a long silence, her voice quiet, heavy. "I know that."
Jason falls quiet again. Vasquez' words met with a single, harsh nod that's accompanied by a deep sniff. It's almost combative, her words cutting through him. 'You had to.' It's what he's done for so long. Run headlong into danger. Throw caution to the wind. Because he has to. Because he's expendable. Because he'd rather be the one who doesn't come back than live with the weight of knowing someone else died in his
place. 'You're a hero.' she had said when he came back. But none of it felt very heroic. He walked out on his pregnant wife the day after their wedding to save someone else's daughter. It was selfish. And in those moments that seemed to stretch on forever, frozen in place- paralyzed- onboard a derelict ship as the Collectors assessed his value like cargo he faced a very harsh truth. One that he thought he
buried with Mina. One that he's drowned in enough alcohol to fill an ocean. "I almost-... I wasn't ready to go..." he says, finding himself unable to even say the word aloud. Die. Vasquez has undoubtedly watched the footage. Even if he hasn't taken the time to address anything directly with her, he knows that much. And she's almost certainly combed through all of the footage from his helmet camera. He
would've done the same if the situation was reversed. But how do you talk about something like that? How do you even begin to address the sort of trauma that a situation like that leaves behind? He pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth as he continues to watch his hands, brushing his tongue along it. "I don't-..." he stammers, taking a second as he finds himself growing self conscious for admitting so much, "...I don't think a
person is supposed to 'see it coming'. You're not supposed to-... To-..." he trails off quietly, merely shaking his head.
Vasquez sucks in her lips, eyes closing as she listens to Jason. To the vulnerability in his words. She's all too aware of how dire things were on the Collector ship. She's spent a great deal of time familiarizing herself with every baleful detail of the recordings. Just thinking about it makes her stomach churn, the feeling of the days when he was gone coming back in full force. Helplessness. Dread. But the shake in
Jason's voice brings her focus to him. To what's in his head. She squeezes him tightly, pressing her forehead against his jaw. "Y-... you're back, Jason. You're alive." She wants to say 'You're safe.', but she can't. How true is that for any of them? "You got out of there. You're here. With me. Okay?" Her own voice has starting to crack as she opens her eyes, lifting her head and reaching up with one hand to
Jason doesn't seem to be in any hurry to respond to Vasquez' words. It's not until he feels her hand on his cheek that he even acknowledges her again, releasing his grip on the railing and shifting in her grasp to face her. It leaves him with part of the blanket between his back and the barrier, but the increase in weight pressing up against the barrier as he leans against it causes a larger surface area to begin to glow.
"I know..." he starts to say, only meeting her gaze briefly before his own lowers and he shifts in place, that discomfort taking hold. He tries to mask it by focusing on adjusting the blanket so it doesn't fall off of them. When finished, he pointedly avoids her eyes, his gaze turning upwards towards the ceiling briefly before settling on the darkness of their bedroom beyond the glass. His hands rest on Vasquez'
sides and he pulls her in close as they slip around her. "But it was just-..." he continues with a shake of his head, his voice distant. His thoughts right back on that ship. "I don't know..." he sighs. It's not for a lack of knowing what he wants to say. It's just that discomfort over laying everything bare. Over admitting to just how close he was from losing everything. Even though she's seen the footage- even
though she's his wife- there's just something there. Something that won't let him say 'I'm not okay' no matter how badly he needs to scream it. "...Might not be the closest I've ever been to dying. Maybe if I had turned left instead of right while clearing a ship, or-... or if a shot had landed six more inches to the left during a firefight, or-... I don't know. Adrenaline kicks in and you don't even have
times to think about any of that, but-..." he says in a bit of a tangent as he tries to get to his point, drawing in a breath before doing so. "But it sure as hell was the closest I've ever been to being dead..." He blinks away at the emotion settling in, leaving his blue eyes glassy as he forces himself to finally meet Vasquez' gaze once again, the only illumination the dim glow of the barrier and the city behind
him. "...And I was scared, Linda." he admits, his voice cracking and laden with shame. Shame over the fact he almost threw it all away because-... because he's broken. It takes everything for him to hold back the tears threatening to escape.
Vasquez struggles to keep it together as she listens to Jason. She's used to him being her rock. Because she forced him to be. Because she was such a mess that he would push down the things that plagued him so that he could be there for her. That wasn't fair. It never had been. "I know." she says in a soft, quiet whisper, a faint, sad smile on her lips as she struggles to find the right words. She can't. She hears it in
his voice, and sees it in his face even if he won't say it. She wants nothing but to make it better but she can't. She doesn't heal or nurture, she destroys. The lump in her throat just keeps growing as she blinks back her own tears. She fails to speak, pressing closer against him instead, forehead against his and hand on his neck, thumb brushing across his cheek. "I know..." she repeats, her voice choking as she
nods almost imperceptibly. She does. She understands. And it's all she can think to do to offer that reminder. To let him know that he's not alone. That he doesn't have to pretend. Hide it away.
Jason nods against Vasquez' touch, a small gesture just to keep it together. But it doesn't hold out and, soon enough, a tear frees itself and rolls down his cheek. And then another. "I always thought that when it happened it would be quick, you know? That I wouldn't have time to know it was coming. But this-... it was-..." he stammers, the words that spill out of him as uncontrollable as the tears that accompany them.
Just a stream of consciousness that has been eating at him. Clawing at him from the inside. "I told myself that it was a blessing. That those seconds?" Those long, unending seconds. Paralyzed. Left with just his thoughts as his body refused to obey him while death approached. "That they were blessings. And I focused on you. On your face-..." he continues, willing himself not to look away from her. Not to pull
Jason away despite feeling so exposed. Despite being unable to lie to her and tell her that everything is okay. That he's okay. He's lied for too long. One hand remains at the small of her back as he brings the other up to her cheek, thumb brushing against the scar etched into it which his gaze briefly flicks to. "To every little detail because-... because I wanted that to be the last thing I see. The last thing I
think of." Even with tears freely rolling down his cheeks, he tries so hard to keep it together. To not break down. But it's right there, just beneath the surface. It's in the way that he presses his forehead so hard against hers that it almost hurts. He's hanging on by a thread.
Vasquez can't hold it together any longer - when Jason's tears start to flow, so do hers. Seeing the facade he works so hard to maintain crumble is like a punch to the gut. Of course he's not okay. How could he possibly be? His words cause her to wrap her arms further around him, pulling him away from the barrier and into a hug, holding him tightly, so tightly, left hand on the back of his head and face nuzzled against his
neck. She tries to speak, but there's just a choked sob as thoughts of how he felt mix with the dread that dominated her life when he was gone. The dread of losing him.
Jason's hand falls from Vasquez' cheek as she wraps him up in a tight hug and he envelopes her in one in turn. It causes him to draw in a ragged breath as he presses tightly up against her. "I love you so much..." he whispers, face pressed into her hair. He presses a number of kisses against her head as he holds her close, tears rolling down his cheek as he fails to keep his thoughts from lingering on just how close he
was to losing her. To leaving her on her own. To leaving his child without a father. "...so much." he repeats softly. "I-... you know that, right?" he asks, almost pleading, worried that she may think she comes second to his selfish, self-destructive tendencies. Worried that because he's always so willing to put himself in danger and potentially sacrifice everything they've built together at the drop of a hat
Vasquez lets the hug linger, holding on tight. Refusing to let him go. Her tears stain his neck as she feels his in turn. The quiet, worried question causes a muffled sound, halfway between a sob and a snort, and she lifts her head, seeking out his gaze as she pulls back just enough to bring her hand to his cheek, her body still pressed closely to his. "...I had a hunch..." she says with a half-sniffle, half-laugh, a
faint, emotional smile tugging at one corner of her mouth as she strokes her thumb across the tears on his cheek, love and a pained sympathy in her eyes.
Jason allows a small, sobbed snort of his own to escape in response to the sarcasm Vasquez responds with. It melts away some of the concern. Some of the worry. He tilts his head to press a quick kiss against the hand on his cheek before meeting her eyes once again. "...Yeah?" he asks through tired, teary blue eyes. He draws in another breath in an attempt at calming the sea of emotions threatening to overcome him. "I mean
it, Linda." he says as he presses his forehead right back against hers and meets her lips with his own in a small kiss. And then a second, just as brief. "You mean everything to me." he begins as he pulls back slightly so he can focus on her. "You're the love of my life. And I don't just want to spend the rest of my life with you. That-... with our lives? With how we live? That doesn't mean much. I want to grow old
with you, okay? I want to-..." he swallows hard, blinking back another bout of tears that threaten to escape. "...I want to see our child grow up. And that means I can't keep doing this. I know I can't keep doing this. We can't keep doing this." he corrects. "We can't keep running from one battle to the next. And that terrifies me." he admits, a sad, embarrassed half-sob-half-snicker and a small rise of his
shoulders accompanying it. "It fucking terrifies me. Because-... because I don't know what I am without it. But whatever that is-... whatever I am-..." Drunk. Deadbeat father. Shitty husband. All thoughts that barrage him. A deep-seeded fear of repeating his own father's mistakes tugs at him. "I'll take it. If the alternative is losing you? Losing us?" His gaze drops slightly and he licks at his