reverielogs | Closed;

Entry tags:

Closed;

» WHO? Alex, Amos, Naomi, Bobbie, Prax
» WHEN? Day 8 and catchall for may
» WHERE? Wandering around the Station
» WHAT? The crew of the Roci goes hunting for their missing members
» WARNINGS? Alex is going to get stuck in a door and there might be some violence initiated to try to get him out. Also: Catchall for other Roci crew threads.

It felt a hell of a lot better, to have the three of them all together. Amos had a few days alone, and Alex was all too glad that hadn't been him. He'd only had a day to wonder how the hell he got there and where the rest of his crew was, before he found Amos. Then a couple days later they'd found Naomi. He was confident, now, that it was only a matter of time before they found the others - Holden and Prax. The cap and the plant guy. Alex hadn't even noticed when Prax had officially become someone he counted as crew. As family. It didn't matter. He was, now. And that meant that Alex was just as keen on finding him as he was on finding Holden.

He wanted to find the Roci, too, but he didn't have a hell of a lot of hope, for that one. Whoever or whatever had brought them here didn't seem too eager to give them a way out. He hated it - hated the idea that he was separated from her, that he didn't know where she was or who had her - but right now Holden and Prax were more important. Once they were all together, they could work on getting the ship back.

They'd started with the top floor and worked their way down. No door was left unopened (when they would open at all), no proverbial stone unturned. Despite the fact that they'd gone through a few floors, now, Alex was undeterred. They could still find them. And even if they didn't, that didn't mean they weren't on the station. Apollo's image had made it clear there was a hell of a lot more to this place than they had access to. So maybe they were being held somewhere else. But that didn't mean they weren't gonna try.

"Alright, I'll take this row," He said amiably, as if calling sides in a game of foot ball, walking towards a row of doors. He tried to open the first one, locked, and went for the next. "Anyone want to lay bets for what sort of person we accidentally walk in on, next?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She smiles back, raising her eyebrows.]

Sounds like premium stuff to me. Top me up.

[ He chuckled, pouring her a glass and then filling his own again, before setting the bottle to the side. He raised his glass, holding it out towards her.]

To gettin' off this rust bucket.

[ Somehow. ]

[She clinks her glass against his.]

Are you missing Martian engineering yet?

[And then she takes a sip, and the face she makes is terrible. He certainly wasn't lying.]

You say that like I didn't for five damn years dealin' with an ice hauler in the Belt. [He takes his own sip, but honestly, he's already down a couple of glasses so he's mostly numbed to the taste at this point.]

Damn, I would give just about anything to get back on the Roci, though. [He gave a wistful sigh.]

You'll get your ship back. We just need to figure out what the hell is going on.

Been wrackin' my skull over it for two weeks now and I ain't gotten any further than I started. All I know is that Holden's probably here, somewhere, locked behind one of those damn rooms, and that Mars--

[ Damn it. He swallowed the rest of his drink. ]

We're a hell of a long way from home. That's all I know.

[ But he hadn't come here to drink to keep his mind on all this shit, that was for sure. So as he poured out his fourth glass he turned his head. ]

Still can't believe you got tangled up with us, somehow. [ And apparently Chrisjen Avasarala of all people, but she wasn't here and that didn't feel real to him, yet. ]

Almost wanna ask the cliche thing about how a girl like you ended up in a place like this.

[She smiles, rolling her eyes at the joke.]

You mean how I got kidnapped to who knows where, or how I ended up with Chrisjen?

If you actually know the answer to the first one, I'd be happy to hear it. But nah, I meant endin' up with the UN Undersecretary.

Not exactly the company I'd expect a Martian Marine to keep.

[Bobbie shifts in place, spinning the glass on the bar absently. This isn't something that's easy to talk about, and she mostly gave them the cliff's notes version last time, so she swallows, hesitating before she answers.]

My unit was deployed to Ganymede. We were there when the mirror fell. The whole thing was some kind of test—a proof of concept for those fucking things. The hybrids. One of them ripped through my men, and my COs wanted me to testify to the UN, tell them that one of my marines fired the first shot and started the whole thing. Chrisjen didn't believe our story, and when I found out what actually happened, I defected.

[Or deserted, depending on who you talk to.]

[ His face fell as she spoke, his expression growing grim. ]

Damn. We'd heard about the inquest, but...

[He trailed off, a pained expression crossing his face. He knew, now, that Mars was in the protomolecule business, but that didn't mean he liked being reminded of it. He rubbed at his forehead. ]

We only just managed to kill one of those things. It was on Ganymede, got onto our ship -- [ He cut off, looking at her apologetically. ]

Blasted it right down to its atoms in our drive plume.

What happened after you defected?

[Because that still didn't explain how she and Chrisjen ended up on the Roci.]

[Bobbie doesn't respond right away, just takes a second to knock back the rest of her drink. Alex probably understands how to felt to lose her team in a way that Chrisjen couldn't, judging from that expression on his face, and she doesn't quite know how to deal with that. Hell, she doesn't quite know how to deal with any of it. She clears her throat, reaching for the bottle to fill her glass again.]

Chrisjen wanted to talk to Mao, try to make a deal with him to get a sample of the protomolecule for Earth, so we met him on his ship. Then Errinwright screwed us over and told Mao Chrisjen was the only person alive other than him that could expose all the shit he's been doing, so Mao and his people tried to kill us. We escaped on the Razorback and you picked us up.

[Which is a Cliffs Notes version if there ever was one.]

[ It sure was cliffnotes, but luckily Alex had been mixed up in this shit for long enough now that he could still follow it. He frowned, looking down into his drink, aimlessly fiddling with the ring on his finger while he considered it.]

The Razorback. God damn. [ He nearly pulled the ring off, but slid it back on and reached for the bottle once she was done with it, instead.]

No wonder we picked you up. Must've been like seein' a ghost.

[Whatever she was going to say in response gets sidetracked when she sees exactly what he's fiddling with.]

What's with the ring?

[ The question sidetracks him, too, and he looks up with genuine confusion for a few seconds. ]

What? [ Then he registers where her eyes are and looks down. ]

Oh. Right. [ He waves his hand a bit. ] Wedding ring.

Edited (i can spell shut up) 2018-05-23 01:25 (UTC)

Oh. I've never seen you wearing it before.

[Which is... weird.]

[ He gave her a hard look for a few seconds, the alcohol in his system not letting that sink in very fast, his brow furrowed.

Slowly, though, it registered.

He doubted very much that it was because he'd lost it.

He looked back down at his hand, flexing his fingers and then curling them again, before grabbing his glass and tipping back his drink.

There was only one reason he would stop wearing it. And he had the sinking feeling he knew exactly what it was.

He couldn't help the low huff as he set down his empty glass, halfway between a laugh and a scoff.]

Yeah. Well.

Guess I finally manned up and reached out.

[Alright, she's clearly stepped in something here. She hesitates, not sure if she should drop it or give him the chance to talk if he wants.

Shit. Well, here goes nothing.]

What do you mean, reached out?

[ The weight of it all made his shoulders slump a little towards his glass, as if the gravity on him was separate to the rest of the station. He didn't look up at Bobbie, instead just fiddling with the empty glass, the ring on his finger glinting with light whenever he turned his hand.

God damn it.

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it, but at the same time, he needed to. He couldn't talk to Amos about it - the guy loved to be flippant as all hell about his marriage anyway. Naomi was out, he could hear the disapproving sighs from here. Prax - Prax didn't need to know what a failure of a father he was.

So, there was Bobbie, who he both knew and didn't know, even though she knew him. Knew things about him, about his life, that he didn't even know yet.

He let out a hard breath. ]

They thought I was dead. When we got picked up by the Donnager, they scanned our IDs and I got pinged as Martian Navy. Discharged, but Navy all the same. So I was on the roster, when it blew.

[He shoved his glass around with his fingers, scraping it against the bar.]

... Never called home. Figured - they hadn't seen me in five years. Thought it might be a mercy, just thinkin' I was dead. And with everythin' going on, there was a pretty high chance I'd end up that way anyway.

[Bobbie doesn't sigh disapprovingly or brush him off. It sounds like a terrible idea, and she's pretty sure you're not supposed to let your wife think you're dead, but she isn't married. She has no idea what their relationship was like. She finds she can't really judge him for it, so instead, she grabs the bottle and fills his glass again. Maybe she should leave well enough alone, but she doesn't quite understand his logic.]

Why'd you think that would be better?

[ He doesn't reply right away, watching the liquid pour into his glass at that strange angle that station rotation gave it, then watched it slosh around in the glass for a few seconds.

Then he raised the glass to his lips, pausing before it actually touched them. ]

Better to be a dead hero than a living failure, am I right?

[ He tipped back the shot. ]

[Bobbie studies him for a moment, then fills her own glass, though she doesn't drink. Of all the answers she was expecting, that certainly wasn't one of them.]

A failure, huh? I don't think I got that memo, sailor.

Yeah, well.

[He reached for the bottle again. He'd lost count of what number this was. Five? Six? Seven? Whatever, he'd sleep it off later.]

Pilotin' the Roci's the first time I ever felt like I was in the right place. Like everything just - god damn clicked. I spent twenty years in the Navy tryin' to feel like I was meant to be there, but every time I was up here I wanted to be home and every time I was home...

[He poured out the shot, shaking his head.]

Then I finished my twenty, ended up full time back under a dome. Wife, kid, shoulda been the perfect life. Only it wasn't. Couldn't stand not being up here. Spent every damn night dreamin' about it. Even when I was there I wasn't there.

[He raised his glass and took a drink - not the whole thing this time, at least.]

... So I left. Went to go fly in the belt.

Don't know how else you'd spin that, Gunny. I was never the man they needed me to be. But hell, I didn't even know what the hell kind of man I was.

But I do now.

[A few months ago, Bobbie wouldn't have had any idea what he meant. The marines did click for her instantly, and she would have joined up even if it hadn't been compulsory. Now, though, after the leaders she trusted betrayed her, she thinks she has a bit of a better idea.]

That doesn't sound like failing, it sounds like you were trying to force yourself to live a life you didn't want.

[Until he couldn't stand it anymore, at least.]

So what kind of man are you?

I thought I wanted it. [He paused, still staring into his drink.]

No- I did want it. But wantin' somethin' and bein' fit for it ain't the same thing.

[He raised his glass, downing the rest of his drink.]

I'm the god damn pilot of the gunship Rocinante, that's what I am. And a better pilot than they ever let me believe I was. That's where I'm supposed to be.

[ He looked down at his ring, using his thumb to slide it up his finger. ]

Just ain't really possible to be both.

[She watches him do it, twirling the glass between her hands on the bar.]

That's what you want more than anything else, huh?

[It's pretty obvious, and honestly, she agrees with him. It is where he belongs.]

If you didn't tell me, I never would have guessed you didn't always know that.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject