hexaflexagons | [psl] p90 twin resolution

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[psl] p90 twin resolution

Back when getting home still felt like a distant dream, she thought she'd leave.

She thought she'd hop on the first ship out of there, put distance between her and the other Freelancers. She'd caused them all more harm than she'd done good and really, why would they want her around? They hadn't ever really been friends, not even in the earliest days of the Project when she hadn't gone off the fucking rails, so who would care if she bailed? Wouldn't it be better for her and for them (wouldn't it save North the trouble of trying to forgive her every day when she knew it was an exercise in futility?) if she just— bailed, found a home on the first distant colony her feet touched down on?

But then Wash and Carolina... asked her to stay.

Not just stay, join them on Blue Team. She didn't get it. She didn't understand why they'd offer her that kind of fucking second chance, but— well, apparently that was a trend? Hell, maybe not feeling like you deserved it was a fucking condition of being taken in! All she knew was that she went from feeling like she had nowhere to fucking go, to suddenly having an offer she couldn't find it in her to refuse, and that became her life. Living with fucking simulation troopers and a few ex-freelancers, playing capture the flag and dealing with the daily nonsense and...

It isn't... bad? It's just... weird. It's like nothing she's ever experienced before. Nothing like Freelancer, nothing like the marines, nothing like her youth. The sim troopers, all assholes themselves, push back against her bullshit with a scary kind of ease and they don't really give a fuck what she's done—apparently, not terrorizing them specifically kinda goes in her favour—and turns out it's really hard to sit and mope when you're living surrounded by that kind of chaos.

(Not that she doesn't have her moments, but give her a break, she's got some self-hatred to work through, okay?)

So things are... okay. Better than she expected, really. In a strange sort of way she's... got a life, a life of her own, and it's not exactly what she imagined for herself, but it works out. Everything works out.

Except for the gaping, empty space in her life where her brother used to be, always there even when she's not actively thinking about it.

He keeps his word and so he keeps his distance. She doesn't expect that to change. She doesn't expect him to forgive her, no matter how much time he gives himself. There are lines that can never be un-crossed and she leapt so far over them it'd be impressive if it wasn't so goddamned terrible. So she tries not to think about him, sticks to her side of the bargain and gives him space. Only gets her updates on how he's doing from York, and they're doing alright. He's doing alright.

But fuck if she doesn't miss him.

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North stays away for a long time. He and York are living a life in another part of the galaxy, settling down with Theta and Delta as if they had always planned to. But eventually York talks him into the fact that he really does need to resolve this part of his life.

He thinks about it for a good long time. He'd lied to her, once, told her he forgave her when he didn't. But she'd apologized after, more than once. And he'd talked about it with York a number of times while they were away, even broke down and cried about it one time.

So one day, he and York return, landing their Pelican on the planet where South had taken up residence. She's with Wash and Carolina and their friends, people North's heard about but not met.

When he steps off the ship she's the first person he sees. He glances back; York's hanging back, waiting. So he begins to walk toward her.

Edited 2021-10-18 23:52 (UTC)

Chorus is a planet rebuilding and that means it's busy, a lot of the time. There's ships going back and forth, ferrying supplies between the few occupied population centers, so South doesn't so much as lift her head from her half-nap when she hears a Pelican overhead.

She gets a little more alert when she hears it set down, though.

The area they've settled is a little out of the way, not far from New Armonia but not in the city itself. There's two bases, of course, and South's out front of Blue Base whilst the others are off... doing something, over at Red Base, fuck if she knows what.

She cracks open an eye, sees the blurry shape of the Pelican, and of a figure just distinct enough from it's silhouette to take note of.

One hand instinctively goes for a sidearm she doesn't even have on her, the other reaches for a radio, but then she opens her eyes all the way and—

"...Andrew?"

Her voice actually cracks. She shoots up in her seat.

He's close enough to hear her react in shock, not to hear what she says—but he can just guess what she did say.

He continues his approach.

When he's about three meters away, he stops.

"Hey," he says.

A strange mix of dread, hope, and anxious anticipation that comes with both settles in her gut. The way she stares at him is like she's not quite sure he's real, at first—maybe she's just having some fucked up dream from falling asleep in the Chorus heat, it wouldn't be the first time, but...

"Hey? All this time, and that's the opener, huh?"

It doesn't come out nearly as nonchalant and joking as she was aiming for. It comes out a little weak, if anything.

He frowns, and takes off his helmet.

"You sound like you'd rather I weren't here at all."

Which could very well be true.

"I— no, that's not... I just didn't... you caught me off guard, that's all."

In truth it depends what he's here to say to her. If he's come all this way to tell her that this is the last time she'll ever see him, that he hasn't forgiven her... she's not sure the closure will be worth the pain.

She's not even in her suit, today. No games played, she's left it inside. So when she swallows a lump in her throat and stands up, she doesn't just feel smaller than usual compared to him. She actually is.

He nods slowly.

"I suppose if it'd make you more comfortable I could get into civvies before we talk."

"I— yeah, maybe, I guess. You can change in my room, if you want." She gestures vaguely at the base. "Like, second door on the left off the main room. I can grab fuckin'... drinks, or something, I don't know."

God, every word out of her mouth feels awkward. If this is the worst case scenario, she just made him leaving at the end ten times more dragged out and awkward but— whatever. It's fine. It's fine.

"I'll change on the ship, it's fine." It's where his clothes are, anyway.

He turns around and goes back, changes, and returns. He's now wearing a hoodie and windbreaker pants. Casual workout clothes, something comfortable. She's not outside again yet, so he slips inside.

The base is... very lived in. You'd think with three Freelancers living there the chaos of the two sim troopers would be reined it, but it's not like South's ever been neat if she doesn't have to be, so it's 3 against 2 in the wrong direction.

He'll be able to follow the clinking of glasses in the communal kitchen, and might catch the moment she almost drops a full damn glass right around the time she hears him come into the base, because she's just that on edge.

She sets the glass down, braces her hands on the counter, and breathes through her nose. Calm. The fuck. Down.

Then looks back over her shoulder so she can wave him towards the couch, "Just don't sit on the leftmost end cushion, that's Caboose's spot. Somehow he always knows."

North barely hears her because he is aghast at the state of the base. What a mess! He knows he's neater than even the average soldier, but they all had to keep their stuff picked up on every base he's ever been on. His expression shows his shock, but he moves to the couch and sits at the righthand side of the couch.

The look on his face is enough to make the corner of her lips quirk up into half a smile, and she shakes her head as she grabs the glasses again with steadier hands to bring them over.

"Sim troopers, man, they're... they're different."

Not sitting in Caboose's space means sitting practically right next to him, and she does hesitate for a second. There are other seats, but they're kind of covered in stuff right now and on the edge of too far away, instead. So she bites the bullet, hands him a glass, and sits down. As far along as she can without going onto the final cushion, at least.

He shakes his head a little.

"They must be."

He takes the drink when offered and holds it, not lifting it to take a sip yet.

"They sure make life fuckin'— entertaining. Never a dull moment around here."

Her lips press together, and she takes a too-long sip from her own glass because she's... not sure what else to say. She could keep chatting, but depending on what he's here to say...

She lowers the glass, licks her lips, sighs, and says, "Drew..." before realising she still doesn't know how to continue that sentence, so she just trails off.

"Yes."

It's the answer she wants to the question she's leaving unvoiced, he figures. He did decide to forgive her. His tone should make it obvious this is not simply a yes of acknowledgement.

He means it, this time, too.

It takes her a second. It takes her a full second of staring at him, her brow furrowing in confusion, because that wasn't just an acknowledgement but she hadn't even said anything and— and—

It takes her a second, but it clicks. And her mouth goes dry.

She almost drops her damn glass again, when she instinctively goes to take a sip.

"...yes— yes what?"

She knows. She thinks she knows. But she can't... she can't just...

She needs to hear it.

He turns his head to regard her.

"I forgive you."

It's started plainly, openly. Sincerely.

Even when he says it she still can't quite believe her ears. Maybe she really did spend too long asleep in the sun, maybe this really is just some cruel dream her brain's cooked up in the heat, because he says he forgives her and less than an hour ago that felt impossible.

It's felt impossible ever since they talked in that memory, really.

She stares at him. Really, really stares. Examining his face, his eyes, for any of the tell-tale signs of his bullshit she should have looked for back on the rig and— there isn't any of it. There's nothing. Just... open sincerity.

That's about when she forgets how to breathe.

She sets her glass down on the floor and takes his from his grip because otherwise it'd just get spilled down their fronts when she does what she does next: practically lunges over to wrap her arms around him and cling.

Edited (edit one thing break another thing) 2021-10-19 02:11 (UTC)

He's slightly confused when she takes the drink but the reason becomes obvious after a moment. He hugs her back firmly.

"It took me a long time of thinking about it," he says as they embrace. "But you're different now."

She nods firmly, a little scared that if she opens her mouth to say any actual words it'll just come out as nothing more than an incomprehensible mess. Her fists grasp at his hoodie and she buries her face against his shoulder, at the join between it and his neck. She's shaking.

All of the hesitance and uneasiness she's been showing since he turned up is gone. In its place is a clear sense of relief and in the goddamn desperate way she clings to him there's an open admittance of how much she's missed him. All this time and she never stopped missing him, she was just... scared, when he arrived. That's all.

Her eyes are a little wet. She presses her face more into his shoulder.

North starts to tear up. It's a nice change, being able to be close to her like this. Being in her presence at all.

"Whoa," says a voice, in the middle of all that. "I'd wonder where this was going except that the two of you look alike."

"Gross," said another voice, much more diffident and bored-sounding. "I thought you knew better than to make comments like that about siblings."

North's eyebrow quirks, despite the fact that he's on the verge of weeping while hugging his sister.

South makes a dramatic noise of well-worn annoyance and though she doesn’t want to let go even a little, even for a second, she lifts her head enough to look over at the new arrivals and give Tucker the kind of look that could kill.

It’s a little undermined by the tears in her eyes, but still.

“Tucker. I will fucking strike you down where you stand, you little shit, there is no way you’ve forgotten I have a fucking twin.”

It’s probably no surprise she can muster the words to tell Tucker off easier than she can muster anything to say to North, annoyance still comes easier than vulnerability, if by a smaller margin these days. That and you live with the Reds and Blues long enough and having responses to nonsense pre-loaded is pretty much a requirement.

Edited 2021-10-19 13:43 (UTC)

"I don't!" Tucker tells Grif. "And of course I didn't, South, what do I look like, an idiot?"

"Yes," says Grif.

"Oh, shut up."

North lets South slowly go so he can sit back against the couch and look at the fellows who have come in. The black man is shorter, and the other guy seems to have some kind of vitiligo and is fatter.

"We're just having a heartfelt reunion, nothing to see here," he says.

"One, Grif's right, you always look like an idiot, 'cus you are one. Two, I haven't hugged this asshole in the longest fucking time, you make it weird and I will have no choice but to kick your ass."

She's reluctant to let North let her go, but she does. Shifts to sit a little closer than she was, though, pulling her legs up onto the couch so her knees are sort of crowded up against his legs.

"Three, what he said," she pushes North's head lightly, "nothing fun to see here. If you wanna be useful you can tell Lina and Wash we've got visitors. You wanna keep being a pain in the ass, well, I guess don't go anywhere."

"I'm always up for being a pain in your ass," Tucker says.

"What?" Grif says. "Was that supposed to be sexual?"

"Yeah, because you know...in her ass..." Tucker trails off.

North snorts.

"If it's a pain you're doing it wrong," he volunteers.

Edited 2021-10-22 21:55 (UTC)

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