[ He'd better be, is all she can think, as he meets her eyes with his own looking up toward her underneath a thick line of lashes, as the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile that doesn't make it to his mouth. He better be damned hard to kill, because she doesn't know what she'll do, what she would do, if next time it wasn't just a black eye and a few minutes unconscious in the snow.
I'll help you, he promises, like he'd promised before, that night she came to apologize and ended up staying for hours and hours, talking with him long after the sun had gone down. She'd fallen asleep on his sofa and woken up with her cheek pressed to his shoulder and the sweater he was wearing and before all that he'd said I would assist you however you needed... it is never a burden. Not for you. She remembers every word; she remembers exactly how he looked when he said it, how he looked away abruptly after to take a deep swallow of his drink. She wishes she had a drink now. She wishes she had any idea what to do with this man who isn't like anyone she knows, who has all of Dolls' sense of duty without any of his confidence, who has Doc's manners without any of the snares and edges lurking beneath. She wishes she knew what shape it is he takes up in her head, in her chest, why he always seems to be present in the one, why the other feels so tight whenever he stands this close to her.
Dolls wouldn't ask her permission to come along with her. Doc might, but he'd ignore it and do what he wanted anyway. She's conscious of standing on a balance beam she can't see, and knows if she says no, I don't want you there that he'd accept it. He'd hang his head, give her that mournful look, but he might actually accept it.
She doesn't want him to. She doesn't know how to feel about any of this, but she doesn't want him to let her tell him no, so she says, a little too soft: ]
Okay.
[ Her glance flickers away from his, studying the mottled bruising on his face, before she meets his eyes once more, head tipping slightly to one side. ]
But it goes the other way, too. If there's trouble, if you need—
[ Me, she almost says. If you need me. But it's a pointless thing to say to a man who has a town full of allies and friends, colleagues and crewmates. There's no reason for him to ever need her over any of the rest of them, and she clears her throat, awkward, backpedals. ]
— back up, get me. Okay? Don't deal with it alone.
[ He's not Dolls, they aren't partners. But maybe they could be a... team, like they have been a few times before. And she'd like that, she thinks; different as they are, there's something about him that just fits, feels right. Carefully, she slips her right arm out of the sling, wincing a little at the way it complains, but there's no give in her expression or her eyes when she offers her hand to shake, to bind them both in a promise she has no idea if she has any right to make.
a "short" one...
I'll help you, he promises, like he'd promised before, that night she came to apologize and ended up staying for hours and hours, talking with him long after the sun had gone down. She'd fallen asleep on his sofa and woken up with her cheek pressed to his shoulder and the sweater he was wearing and before all that he'd said I would assist you however you needed... it is never a burden. Not for you. She remembers every word; she remembers exactly how he looked when he said it, how he looked away abruptly after to take a deep swallow of his drink. She wishes she had a drink now. She wishes she had any idea what to do with this man who isn't like anyone she knows, who has all of Dolls' sense of duty without any of his confidence, who has Doc's manners without any of the snares and edges lurking beneath. She wishes she knew what shape it is he takes up in her head, in her chest, why he always seems to be present in the one, why the other feels so tight whenever he stands this close to her.
Dolls wouldn't ask her permission to come along with her. Doc might, but he'd ignore it and do what he wanted anyway. She's conscious of standing on a balance beam she can't see, and knows if she says no, I don't want you there that he'd accept it. He'd hang his head, give her that mournful look, but he might actually accept it.
She doesn't want him to. She doesn't know how to feel about any of this, but she doesn't want him to let her tell him no, so she says, a little too soft: ]
Okay.
[ Her glance flickers away from his, studying the mottled bruising on his face, before she meets his eyes once more, head tipping slightly to one side. ]
But it goes the other way, too. If there's trouble, if you need—
[ Me, she almost says. If you need me. But it's a pointless thing to say to a man who has a town full of allies and friends, colleagues and crewmates. There's no reason for him to ever need her over any of the rest of them, and she clears her throat, awkward, backpedals. ]
— back up, get me. Okay? Don't deal with it alone.
[ He's not Dolls, they aren't partners. But maybe they could be a... team, like they have been a few times before. And she'd like that, she thinks; different as they are, there's something about him that just fits, feels right. Carefully, she slips her right arm out of the sling, wincing a little at the way it complains, but there's no give in her expression or her eyes when she offers her hand to shake, to bind them both in a promise she has no idea if she has any right to make.
But she'll try. She has to try. ]
You watch my back and I'll watch yours. Deal?