Epilogue, Part II
Nov. 30th, 2017 12:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chiron_survivorThe afternoon passes slowly, but not slowly enough.
Adia returns to her lab and works through her samples, but her thoughts are elsewhere. With each adjustment of the microscope knob, she has to breathe through the tight knot of nerves twisting her up inside. All the hypothetical conversations running through her head aren’t preparing her for seeing Caspar in the slightest.
What if he doesn’t apologize? What if he does, but it isn’t sincere?
What if he does everything right, and she still can’t forgive him?
She reaches for the tray of ocean water samples and accidentally knocks the whole thing over.
“Dammit!”
Grabbing her windbreaker and the tray (thank goodness nothing broke), she heads down to the beach to refill everything. There are children playing along the shore; a few beachcombers are gathering shells and driftwood. She collects her samples, answers questions about the ocean life. A gust of wind carries off a little girl’s hat and she helps chase after it.
By the time she returns to the lab, she is sandy and windswept, and her hair is a mess.
Caspar is there.
He looks the same as he did the last time she saw him. He’s even wearing the same suit. The only thing that’s different is the expression on his face. There is no cold mask this time. He looks nervous. Maybe even a little scared.
She carefully sets down the samples, then takes a step towards him. And another, until there’s only a foot of distance between them. She keeps her arms at her sides, afraid to touch him. Afraid he’ll disappear.
Her eyes travel over his face, the worried line of his jaw. “Cas?” she asks softly, her voice paper thin. She swore she’d let him talk first, but she can’t help herself. “Is it really you?”
He nods almost imperceptibly, his hazel eyes locked on hers. The corner of his mouth pulls up into an awkward grin. “Miss me?”
She stares at him blankly. The butterflies in her stomach turn to lead.
Three years. Three years of her thinking that he was either dead or unattainable.
Three years. And those are the first words out of his mouth?!
She puts her palms flat against his chest and pushes him.
Hard.
He stumbles backwards, a look of complete surprise on his face, and for a moment she understands the very visceral satisfaction of inflicting violence on another person. “‘Miss me’? That’s it?!” She stomps towards him while he regains his balance. “After all this time, this is what you say to me?!”
“Adia.” He smiles at her. She’s never seen him so happy. “Adia.”
He pulls her into a hug.
She feels her fury rise a notch, and struggles in his grip. “You frakker. You motherfrakker!” She tries to kick at his shins, but he just lifts her and spins her around. She can hear him laughing, feel it in the vibration of his chest, along with his heartbeat, right against hers.
She’s dizzy. He’s holding her, she’s in his arms. He’s alive.
Her anger leaves her, all in a rush, and she begins to cry. Caspar immediately sets her down, but he doesn’t let go. He stops laughing, gently shushes her instead, one hand rubbing circles in the small of her back, the other stroking her hair.
“Frak you,” she sobs into his shoulder. She presses her face against the fabric of his suit and breathes in his familiar smell. He’s alive. She’s in his arms.
Something deep within her resets itself, and begins to heal properly.
When she finally pulls back to wipe at her eyes, she finds a delicately patterned handkerchief thrust into her hand. She blinks at it, then lets out a watery giggle. “Yes,” she says, as she cleans off her face.
“Yes, what?” Caspar asks. She can hear him smiling.
“Yes, I missed you.” She clears her eyes, then takes another look at him. “But not the suit.”
“I’ll burn it,” he says without missing a beat. “I’ll never wear fuchsia again.”
She laughs. It feels so good to laugh. “Don’t. I’m sure someone could make something useful out of it instead.”
When she looks at him again, her humor fades into surprise. He’s smiling, but he’s crying, too. Silent tears are rolling down his face, splashing dark spots onto the collar of his shirt.
“Here,” she says quietly. She hands him back his handkerchief. “I think you need this more than me.”
He stares at her in confusion, then reaches up a hand to touch his cheek. He visibly recoils when he feels the wetness. “I, uh… I guess I do.” His smile turns to a grimace, his lower lip trembling as he draws in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
She brushes away a few of his tears. “I know.” There is no doubt in her heart, which makes her next words come so easily. “I forgive you.”
His entire expression crumbles. He whines, low and broken, in the back of his throat, and collapses against her. She wraps her arms around him, bears his weight as he holds onto her for dear life, choking on his own tears, whispering apologizes into her neck with every catch of his breath.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
When his tears don’t abate, she turns her head and presses her forehead against his. “Hey,” she murmurs. “I’m here. I’m here, you’re okay.” She’s crying again, but that’s okay, too. They’re both here, together.
They’re going to be okay.
Adia returns to her lab and works through her samples, but her thoughts are elsewhere. With each adjustment of the microscope knob, she has to breathe through the tight knot of nerves twisting her up inside. All the hypothetical conversations running through her head aren’t preparing her for seeing Caspar in the slightest.
What if he doesn’t apologize? What if he does, but it isn’t sincere?
What if he does everything right, and she still can’t forgive him?
She reaches for the tray of ocean water samples and accidentally knocks the whole thing over.
“Dammit!”
Grabbing her windbreaker and the tray (thank goodness nothing broke), she heads down to the beach to refill everything. There are children playing along the shore; a few beachcombers are gathering shells and driftwood. She collects her samples, answers questions about the ocean life. A gust of wind carries off a little girl’s hat and she helps chase after it.
By the time she returns to the lab, she is sandy and windswept, and her hair is a mess.
Caspar is there.
He looks the same as he did the last time she saw him. He’s even wearing the same suit. The only thing that’s different is the expression on his face. There is no cold mask this time. He looks nervous. Maybe even a little scared.
She carefully sets down the samples, then takes a step towards him. And another, until there’s only a foot of distance between them. She keeps her arms at her sides, afraid to touch him. Afraid he’ll disappear.
Her eyes travel over his face, the worried line of his jaw. “Cas?” she asks softly, her voice paper thin. She swore she’d let him talk first, but she can’t help herself. “Is it really you?”
He nods almost imperceptibly, his hazel eyes locked on hers. The corner of his mouth pulls up into an awkward grin. “Miss me?”
She stares at him blankly. The butterflies in her stomach turn to lead.
Three years. Three years of her thinking that he was either dead or unattainable.
Three years. And those are the first words out of his mouth?!
She puts her palms flat against his chest and pushes him.
Hard.
He stumbles backwards, a look of complete surprise on his face, and for a moment she understands the very visceral satisfaction of inflicting violence on another person. “‘Miss me’? That’s it?!” She stomps towards him while he regains his balance. “After all this time, this is what you say to me?!”
“Adia.” He smiles at her. She’s never seen him so happy. “Adia.”
He pulls her into a hug.
She feels her fury rise a notch, and struggles in his grip. “You frakker. You motherfrakker!” She tries to kick at his shins, but he just lifts her and spins her around. She can hear him laughing, feel it in the vibration of his chest, along with his heartbeat, right against hers.
She’s dizzy. He’s holding her, she’s in his arms. He’s alive.
Her anger leaves her, all in a rush, and she begins to cry. Caspar immediately sets her down, but he doesn’t let go. He stops laughing, gently shushes her instead, one hand rubbing circles in the small of her back, the other stroking her hair.
“Frak you,” she sobs into his shoulder. She presses her face against the fabric of his suit and breathes in his familiar smell. He’s alive. She’s in his arms.
Something deep within her resets itself, and begins to heal properly.
When she finally pulls back to wipe at her eyes, she finds a delicately patterned handkerchief thrust into her hand. She blinks at it, then lets out a watery giggle. “Yes,” she says, as she cleans off her face.
“Yes, what?” Caspar asks. She can hear him smiling.
“Yes, I missed you.” She clears her eyes, then takes another look at him. “But not the suit.”
“I’ll burn it,” he says without missing a beat. “I’ll never wear fuchsia again.”
She laughs. It feels so good to laugh. “Don’t. I’m sure someone could make something useful out of it instead.”
When she looks at him again, her humor fades into surprise. He’s smiling, but he’s crying, too. Silent tears are rolling down his face, splashing dark spots onto the collar of his shirt.
“Here,” she says quietly. She hands him back his handkerchief. “I think you need this more than me.”
He stares at her in confusion, then reaches up a hand to touch his cheek. He visibly recoils when he feels the wetness. “I, uh… I guess I do.” His smile turns to a grimace, his lower lip trembling as he draws in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
She brushes away a few of his tears. “I know.” There is no doubt in her heart, which makes her next words come so easily. “I forgive you.”
His entire expression crumbles. He whines, low and broken, in the back of his throat, and collapses against her. She wraps her arms around him, bears his weight as he holds onto her for dear life, choking on his own tears, whispering apologizes into her neck with every catch of his breath.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
When his tears don’t abate, she turns her head and presses her forehead against his. “Hey,” she murmurs. “I’m here. I’m here, you’re okay.” She’s crying again, but that’s okay, too. They’re both here, together.
They’re going to be okay.
