[ He can't help it. Please, she says, and there's this small part of him that soaring, rejoicing. Someone wants you alive badly enough to beg for it, it says, and Roy nearly sobs because it's damned painful, the hope that blooms in his chest, nearly breaking his heart because there's no space for it. It's so filled with despair. ]
I- [ He breaks off, sobs once. ] I hate you.
[ He doesn't. And he thinks she knows that too. He takes a long, shuddering breath. ]
[ there's a part of her that wants to protest. saying please isn't begging, she's not begging — but she wants him to live and she wants him to tell her the stories at the very least because it'll mean that he'll live and if it means saying please over and over again until it becomes begging? she's not above that.
he's crying and somehow that's far worse than anything he could say. she's heard those words before and she's heard people mean them — he doesn't, and so the words don't sting. ]
I'll be there in two hours. [ enough time to figure things out. enough time to get him to the pod well before the jump. hopefully not enough time for him to change his mind again. ]
No. [ The words blurt out of him, and now the words come muffled, as if he's shoved blankets into his mouth to stifle himself. ]
Come- come sooner. Before I- [ before I change my mind, he thinks.
Because he might not be able to walk, but he can crawl onto the floor and hide in a closet or something in two hours. He knows he can, and he knows he wants to.
[ she opens her mouth and closes it again when she realises she isn't entirely certain how to answer that, what to say. before what? but she can imagine.
in the end, there's only one thing to say, really. ] Okay.
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[ He can't help it. Please, she says, and there's this small part of him that soaring, rejoicing. Someone wants you alive badly enough to beg for it, it says, and Roy nearly sobs because it's damned painful, the hope that blooms in his chest, nearly breaking his heart because there's no space for it. It's so filled with despair. ]
I- [ He breaks off, sobs once. ] I hate you.
[ He doesn't. And he thinks she knows that too. He takes a long, shuddering breath. ]
Fine. Christ, fine.
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he's crying and somehow that's far worse than anything he could say. she's heard those words before and she's heard people mean them — he doesn't, and so the words don't sting. ]
I'll be there in two hours. [ enough time to figure things out. enough time to get him to the pod well before the jump. hopefully not enough time for him to change his mind again. ]
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Come- come sooner. Before I- [ before I change my mind, he thinks.
Because he might not be able to walk, but he can crawl onto the floor and hide in a closet or something in two hours. He knows he can, and he knows he wants to.
He knows far too well how much he wants to. ]
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in the end, there's only one thing to say, really. ] Okay.
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