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latest status update 3/6/2018

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[ct_7567]

[ For the first time in a long time, Rex finds himself speechless.

He's no stranger to losing people. But usually he loses them to something a little more permanent than simply being ported out. After asking around, reading guides on how one can tell one is ported out, what is to be done with their remaining belongings, it had never once occurred to Rex that she could come back. The speed with which Martin jumped directly to a conclusion that Rex hadn't so much as considered is remarkable and, perhaps, is indicative of one of his own blindspots. ]

I - I don't have an answer for that. I don't know. But you're right. She could come back.

[ Hell. That complicates things, doesn't it? It's not that Rex wouldn't be happy to see her again, but he loathes the idea of being left in limbo, knowing she could come back, but not knowing if she will, or if she does, when that would be. ]

[darkov]

[alive? he wonders. the same way as before? different? changed?

maybe the way some Darkovs have come back to the compound after being taken away by the Lumas. it hasn't happened in a long, long time, so Martin only knows second-hand gossip from the older gen-8s about it. about Sofia, when Mikael died. she came back different, they said.

not very many Darkov rules apply in this world, so it might be too much to assume that, of all of them, would be one of them. yet short of death, it's the worst and most mysterious to come to his mind, and he's quick to latch onto it to feed his mounting unease. it doesn't help that the actual answer he gets is i don't know, leaving the windows wide open for all kinds of speculation to come and gnaw at him.

with the way Anderson described her home, it's almost a bit too easy to imagine her off to a hunt, where the chances he's already seen her for the last time are just as high as not. he's always hated that feeling then, and he hates it now.]

Sorry, sir. [his head lifts up a little, peering at him through his bangs while he digs a fingernail into his elbow.] I don't really understand it. But I believe you anyway.

[it's kind of the case for most things, really. but this isn't for lack of trying, at least, since he can't help but connect this to experiences back home.

it might be easier to swallow if Anderson wasn't so important, or if he believed her as expendable as he is. but...she's on a whole other level, completely. and the idea that she's not going to be back at the house when he's sent back kind of feels like someone slowly pressing their heel down on his chest.]

[ct_7567]

[ That's all Rex can really ask for. It's not as though he understands it either. He's used to a different life from this, one where everything you do is imbued with meaning, follows a certain philosophy, some sort of logic, some sort of reason to it. You don't get tossed along the winds of fate for no reason at all, coming to new places, meeting people, and vanishing the next moment - and for what reason? That the Porter, as dubiously a sentient presence as it is, decided that it must be so?

No. There's not a terrible amount here for any of them to understand. ]

Fair enough. The important thing is that she's all right. And she's where she can do some good - where she belongs.

[ Not where she wants to be, perhaps, but Martin doesn't need to be privy to that information and Rex fully believes that she can do some good in her own world despite her own doubts on the matter. And, in the end, that someone is where they belong and doing the job they were meant to be doing is the greatest solace he can provide. ]

[darkov]

[the cold he'd felt earlier was a lot more comfortable than this. the unease creeping up under his skin also seems to make bones seem heavier, leaden, keeping him from moving much at all.

he could've heard this over the communicator and just kept walking. that might've been better than having Rex there to watch him stand uselessly.]

What-- [his expression scrunches slightly at the sound of how his voice croaks. he clears his throat, swallows, and tries again, quieter.] What else. Is there more?

[ct_7567]

...I suppose not.

[ Rex is, suddenly, reminded of his conversation with Cassandra. She hadn't understood why he thought - knew, really - that someone other than himself ought to be taking care of Martin. She'd thought it was a silly way to think, that Rex is uniquely qualified on the basis of understanding Martin's specific situation, but another would have something better to say. If Rex were a different man, perhaps his indecision and inner turmoil would manifest in some physical way, in the lowering of his gaze, in the flexing of his hands, in the quick, fidgety movement of his heel against the dirt.

Because Rex is himself, none of his discomfort shows. His gaze stays pure and strong, his spine straight, his expression as stoic as ever. That may be for the best. Martin doesn't need to know how Anderson's disappearance and how his inability to adequately comfort Martin in its wake affects him as well.

Martin looks even unhappier than usual, as he ought to be. Rex is just stuck on how to make it better. The facts are the facts. No changing that. You just pick yourself up from off the floor and keep moving forward. He thinks of Cut and his children, his easy smiles and tender looks, as comfortable with contact as he is with imparting lessons in a voice more suited to telling bedtime stories than barking out orders. ]

Are you all right here, Martin?

[darkov]

[he wishes he wasn't afraid to lie about things. some Darkovs do, even though they're trained not to. not all rules are adhered to the same way among each other, with the way some are predisposed. but sometimes lies make it easier for things to move forward, to dismiss a problem for later. or never at all.

Martin's not ever felt right to say a lie -- or even deceive by omission. not saying he'd snuck down with Adam to learn letters, not speaking on what he'd seen in the halls on certain days. sometimes it was easier when he had to promise not to speak, but other times, that was worse.

so would it be better or worse to say nothing? usually there comes a point where Rex stops prying and just sends him along upstairs, but...they're pretty far from the house, aren't they. and the effort it takes to spin a truth that'll conveniently omit all the negatives is rather beyond him while unhappiness is squeezing on his chest like a vice.

worse, Ryo's unpleasant tone sounds in his ears from the other day: maybe you should stop locking yourself in your home and pretend the world doesn't exist.]

I...I don't know what I'm doing, sir. [he fixes his stare down at gnarled roots.] I thought, maybe, if I just...kept walking. It'd be better. [a little bit of alarm bubbles up in admitting that, which slowly draws his shoulders up.] I don't know. I thought walking away was a good idea. Just--just keep...going, and...stay quiet, and cold.

I think I...would've just. Kept going. If you didn't-- Weren't...here. Sorry. I don't know. I don't really know what--to say, sorry. I'm sorry.

[he shouldn't have said much of anything at all, because hearing it aloud, outside of his head, is mortifying and shameful. and stupid. just-- walk? where. how long? stupid.]

[ct_7567]

[ That's a lot that Rex doesn't know what to do with. One thing, however, that sticks out to him and rankles at him is the fact that despite the knowledge that it's difficult to fix Martin's feeling of aimlessness and isolation, Akira could at least keep him warm. He bends over, digging about in his bag until he finds the jacket he'd brought with him but hadn't needed to wear; he tends to run hot as a rule, which doesn't seem to be the case for Martin.

(That Martin may be talking about the way he feels emotionally doesn't register.) ]

Here.

[ He drapes it over Martin's shoulders, taking a moment to fix the collar the way he always does whenever anyone's in his vicinity with a rumpled collar. ]

You don't need to apologize. But I need to understand. You mean that if I didn't come, you weren't intending to come ho -- [ Stupid slip of the tongue. That place isn't his home. It's not Martin's home either. It won't do to forget that. ] -- come back to the house?

[darkov]

I'm sorry.

[he's already small, but the jacket makes him smaller, and even while Rex is fussing with the collar, Martin's only shrinking more. cold and thoughtless had been nice while it lasted, but now there's no escaping red, hot shame as it squeezes tightly around his throat and presses up through his face and ears.]

I was going to go. Just--go. Get away. But if I told you, I'd... I can't...

[having to look Rex in the eye to say I don't want to be here anymore and I'm leaving is probably more impossible than growing ten feet tall and turning purple.

he's not sure what's worse: failing to just up and vanish or failing to keep his promise to say so first.

Martin's head can't dip any lower, but in sagging, it gently bumps against Rex's chest and settles there while his hands pinch and claw at his own arms until jacket fabric is what winds up in their grasp.]

I'm sorry, sir.

[ct_7567]

[ Things are worse than he'd thought.

Rex had thought that he was coming here for the sole purpose of giving Martin the bad news. He hadn't thought that things had gotten so bad that Martin would want to leave for good and even now, hearing it firsthand, he's still baffled by it. Things have been difficult here and there but he'd thought they were nonetheless going well, having settled into a routine, a group of people around them to bind them together, able to find some semblance of happiness of the likes Rex has never felt before. It is, however, as he said: he doesn't know how to take care of kids. He doesn't know how to read their body language, how to attend to their needs, what their needs even are despite having done some research on the subject and it's more than possible that there's something integral that he's missing.

He's no stranger to negative emotions. Rex is accustomed to a life in which he toils underneath the weight of war every day, loss as commonplace for him as going to work is for others and he is, he thinks, good at dealing with it. What he feels now is a strange, foreign thing, though, a cold ball of something he can't quite identify pressing up underneath his rib cage of the like he hasn't felt since he was but a child himself.

He'd told Cassandra that he was determined to keep Martin by his side as long as he wanted to be there. He'd never actually gotten around to asking if that was the case. He just assumed that it was so. Rex's raises one hand, hovering by Martin's head, a slow, tentative thing utterly unlike him, remembering how it'd gone last time.

But this time, Martin started it. Rex settles his hand on the back of his head. ]

I - I don't understand. You wanted to leave? Here? [ Not with Andy? Not with Archie? Hell, not even with Cassandra? ]

I would never force you to stay, Martin. I've told you that before. But are you really so unhappy living - where we are?

[darkov]

N-no!

[Martin looks up, aghast. see? see? he shouldn't have even tried to say anything. now Rex thinks he hates him. he keeps sabotaging himself at every turn, no matter his intention, and everyone around him has to put up with it.]

I, I didn't earn it! I, I don't deserve it, Rex! That's-- that's what I mean, I... [his mouth moves without words for a beat, with his thoughts moving too fast to be said in the panic to make things right, all while a more abrasive voice drums in there over it. stupid. stupid. stupid. stupid.] I keep...messing up. And you and...and everyone else has to deal with it. It's not fair.

[his expression scrunches up, tormented.] Isn't it? It's not fair that even if I try to do better, it still doesn't...fix...anything. I, I thought I was...better, but. Now everyone's...going away...

[ct_7567]

[ Rex stops in his tracks, his hand knocked off of the top of Martin's head at his sudden movement. He may not be a naturally expressive man but he looks ill at ease now, at a loss for what to do, what to say or, indeed, what to think. Did he or anyone else make Martin feel as though he was messing up? Did any of them make him believe that his presence in their lives was contingent on his success? ]

Anderson leaving has nothing to do with you. And the rest of us are still here - and will remain here as long as is within our power.

[ His hands slide down to grip at Martin's shoulders, likely a touch too firm to be wholly comfortable. ]

You don't have to do anything to deserve to stay with us, Martin. You can just be. [ That is, after all, what he's fighting for back in his own galaxy. He wants other people, ordinary people, civilians to be able to live their own small lives in all of the small ways that they do, without chaos or fear or destruction. The good fortune of being able to simply live and let live isn't a gift that's given to him but it's one he wishes for others to have.

Including Martin, for as long as they're here together. ]

Did you think your leaving would make me happy?

[darkov]

[even if sat down to think about it properly, Martin would never be able to explain how he can exist in two incongruent states like this, both recoiling from any shred of kindness but also so terribly desperate for it as to have no idea what to do with it when it's gotten. there's too much deeply groomed in him from the lifetime of paradoxes -- where being raised in a family unit also meant being promptly separated from members drawn too close. the pack unity was vital to survive...but deep bonds of familial love were often deemed a dangerous red flag for stability out in the field.

after all, a heart starved can still strive and claw forward in hopes of more, but how can a good weapon function when its heart's been broken?

Martin's mouth opens and closes wordlessly, at a loss for what to say. and isn't saying something at all what's made such a mess in the first place? he shouldn't have said so. Rex is only unhappy because he spoke up.

the weight on his shoulders is heavy, but not heavy enough. he should just push him into the ground, way underground. leave him there.

unpleasant pieces of him sure are vindicated by the hard-to-look-at expression drawn on Rex's face. see? this is what happens. he knew he'd mess up, but still wishes he didn't.]

I'm sorry. [it's a little croak, forced out past a tight knot in his throat.] I don't know. I-I'm sorry. I didn't think. About. A-anything, I don't know.

[ct_7567]

Sounds to me like you thought too much.

[ It's a difficult thing to comprehend. All his life, Rex has only had one purpose in life. It's a purpose he's good at. It's a purpose he likes. It's simple, settling down in the life of a soldier, and to be a good soldier is all he's ever strived for, all he's ever wanted. To find happiness in anything other than his duty and those he was expected to fight beside almost feels like a betrayal of everything he's stood for up until this point. To be able to conceive of any other kind of life feels as though it's only mere steps away from treason.

And his first month here, not so long ago, it didn't feel as though this was a place he would ever be able to find any measure of contentment in, everything so distant, so strange, torn from everything he's ever held dear. In many ways, that truth has held. He is a stranger here in a foreign land, grasping at the familiar, struggling to do what he thinks is right. But he knows with as much certainty as he knows his duty that he's happy here. The focus of his life had once been so large, spanning the galaxy and planets and millions of lives, all working as a single machine to something greater. Here, the axis on which his life rests has honed in on just a scant few individuals, though with as much intensity as ever.

It has been honed in on Martin who, despite their many trials, makes him happy. He loves Martin as dearly as he's loved anyone. Looking down at his miserable face now, feeling the knot in his gut grow at the idea of Martin fleeing from them, he's not sure how he ever managed to deny that much, even to himself. His hands slide down from Martin's shoulders to his upper arms, unsure as to how to communicate Martin's importance to him, unsure whether or not he should. ]

If you were to leave like that, I would stop at nothing until I found you again. I don't want you doing this again, Martin. Not now, not ever. [ He's silent for a moment, searching for the right words. ]

I want you living with me. Not out of obligation, nor out of duty. Because you are wanted, by more than just me.

[ He told Ahsoka, once, not to get attached to him. His life will be a short, fleeting thing and if it's not cut short by violence, it will be cut short through his accelerated aging. A part of him knows that he is not doing right by Martin by allowing him such attachments. Another part of him doesn't care. ]

Do you want to come back?

[darkov]

[what is he supposed to do about this? in Olvoski, being housed and protected was an obligation -- a part of a job for a greater cause, an effort to keep monsters at bay and the number of weapons high. being cared for was a burden -- for his father, who died for it; for his mother, who lost Peter for it; for his sister, who lost them both for it. the others, too, in other ways...Alex, losing the safety net Peter had been...that was all on Martin -- he ruined all that. what good did caring for him do?

Rex stands to get nothing good out of looking after him. after all, what's happened since? attacks, break-ins, a death? he swung a door on his head once. he blasted his gut-problems out to an entire network of strangers. he wound up getting him roped into becoming temporary youth league soccer referee, just out of bumbling.

the bad things blind Martin to a lot of the quiet and good there is, because any of that good? his heart convinces him that it's all secret and stolen. feeling safe is just a consequence of being in the way, and being praised only the result of not bumbling too much for a moment. it's all been at Rex's expense -- this person who never needed to look out for him at all; he could've just let him get plowed over by that truck that night.

instead, he says Martin has value, and that he want him to stay. to not ever try and vanish. those are the kinds of things he's desperate to hear and believe, because as sad as he may be? he still wants to be wanted.

Peter wanted him. he'd said so. Darkovs don't lie.

Rex doesn't lie either, does he?]

Yes, sir. [he gulps, his expression tormented by the effort it's taking to not crumble into tears.] Yes, please. Sir.

[ct_7567]

Right. Then it's settled.

[ Rex looks at the crumpled, awful expression on Martin's face, and he raises one hand to cup the back of his neck, heel of his hand resting along Martin's jawline, before he finally lets his hands fall back to his sides. He'd spent all day hiking to get here but that hardly means anything to someone like Rex. He's used to these sorts of treks lasting entire days, weeks if he's unlucky, and a single day's work is hardly worth mentioning.

Somehow, he feels exhausted anyway. Maybe they don't give civvies enough credit. This is so much more difficult than he had expected it to be. ]

I'll speak with Akira. We leave first thing tomorrow.

[ Which would be a lovely way to end things if not for one extra tidbit - minutes later, Rex suddenly sits up straight, halfway through a ration, and swears. ]

I forgot to feed the kriffing fish.