Roses In December
Sitting in the pilot's chair, Nika's blue eyes stared sightlessly out the front viewscreen. Rick was sitting in the copilot's seat again, but aside from pleasantries when he first sat down, they hadn't spoken to one another. It was.... strangely comfortable to simply sit in silence with him. He was easy to just exist in the same space with, no expectations of her.
The Black was calling to her more strongly than at any time since her father's death. Silence. Solitude. Anonymity. She struggled with a desperate urge to get off at the next port and simply vanish. She didn't want their sympathy. Or their pity. Or their well-meaning banter. She didn't want to see the way Joshua looked at her with knowing eyes. She didn't want to see Arden's confusion or Rina's worry. She didn't want to look in the mirror, to see the storm shutters in her own face. She didn't want to deal with any of this.
And why the hell should she? She could just walk away and leave it all behind. There was nothing to come back for this time. Her mood was nearly as black as the Black itself.
Nika, will you?
Somewhere along the way she'd realized that she wanted a life with him. She'd hoped that this trip, they could talk about it. That they were in the same place, or could //get// there with relatively minimal time. That they both wanted the same things. She hadn't expected to have it all be resolved in this one run. Just to... step onto the path. And yet... he'd asked. In a desperate need to hold onto the one thing he could remember, apparently the only thing that he had emotional ties to at all, he'd offered her everything she'd wanted since Miranda.
For all the wrong reasons. And she knew it, and she'd said yes anyway. Knowing that it was doomed, knowing that it wasn't going to work... she said yes.
And the expression on his face when she said it was radiant. Brian like she'd only seen him a few times over the years.
"How much money you think they have on us?"
The tone held lazy amusement, and Nika pried her drowsy crystalline eyes open to look up at him with a smile. "Last I heard," she drawled softly, "Pool was up to about 300 credits. Give or take." She shifted against him, her hand sliding up his chest to rest along the side of his neck nearest her. She wiggled her toes, her leg cradled between his thighs, chuckling when he grunted at the tease and trapped her foot by simply tightening his legs around hers.
"Crazy women."
"Crazy like a fox," she snorted mildly, kissing his shoulder. "Got us permission for fraternizing, right?"
Brian looked startled, turning his head on the pillow to kiss the top of her head. "You got into a bar brawl to get *permission* to take off with me?"
Nika shrugged slightly. "Told you I wasn't flauting the frat regs for you," she retorted with a smile. "But you been makin' it worth my while to see if you're worth my while." She waggled her brows. "Definitely worth it."
He laughed and shifted over, the expression in his gaze appreciative and more... tender. More real than she'd ever seen from him before.
The memory of the way he looked that day -- their first time together -- blazed across her mind's eye in brilliant color and texture. So real she could almost reach out and touch his face, feel the warmth of the sun that had poured across the pillows of the bed to highlight his brown hair with hints of red and gold.
So many images. So many years of wasted time. A kaleidescope of his facial expressions passed through her mind.
Laughing over beers. Looking over his shoulder, shrugging, and rabbit-punching Hans. Where was that? Shinon? Nah... Rim world. Hans got drunk and dared him. Maybe. It was funny, though. She remembered laughing.
Pissed and arguing with a guy over cargo fees. Beaten and bloody in the aftermath of a firefight, his arm thrown over Fraiser's shoulder. Sly flirtation at the dinner table. Tortured... crying... as he carried the lifeless body of a two-month-old baby from the burned-out husk of a barn. Pained, his arms tight as she cried over the news of her father's death.
So many more stupid, tiny little moments. Juxtaposed now with images of his excitement when she'd said yes... and his rage when he'd realized that Arden had been sharing her bunk. His betrayal when she'd made him take his hands off the doctor.
And moments with Arden. So many moments of shared time.
The soft expression on his face when she woke in the middle of the night to find him just watching her sleep. His own childlike expression when she found him sleeping in various places -- chairs, bunks, even a desk. Laughter over something foolish. The affectionate look on his face as he cared for his cat, silly thing. The intensity of his full attention on a book that he was poring over.
Had Christian been right? Had she merely been marking time with Arden? Using him? She hadn't thought so, but now... now she wasn't so certain of anything. Not even herself.
You ever going to commit to this crew, girl? Or you just going to run again?
For a moment, Nika would have sworn Shyla Kramer stood at her shoulder, the redhead's voice was so strong in her head.
I don't run.
Bullshit. Harry's voice, almost always gentle, succinct.
And it was bullshit. Running was what she did. When things got tight emotionally, Nika ran. She'd run when her father died, when she was angry at Shyla and Harry and Brian for not staying on Boros to see what happened. For not being there to help with Trey. She'd run -- not with the intent to run from him, but that was the result anyway -- when Brian was recovering. She'd left him to recuperate without her, to deal with the aftermath of the explosion alone. And now she wanted to do it again. This crew, these people... they were too close. If things kept going as they were, someone would die. Potemkin would not stop coming after the Gift.
Do you know what it's like to know you've got a wayward daughter flitting irresponsibly around the Verse in need of guidance but too gorram pigheaded to accept it from the people who love her most?
And what would you tell me now, Harry? The need to run was strong.
And how's that working out for you so far? She could almost see Shyla's mocking smile.
Bitterness and sorrow lanced through her as she reached up to rub her face, her hand coming away wet with tears she hadn't realized she was shedding. She wiped the hand absently on her pants, keeping the movement out of Rick's sight. Yeah... it's been working out so well thus far, Nika had to admit to herself.
If Potemkin wouldn't stop, then Nika couldn't leave. And if she were being honest with herself, she was tired of running. The Gift had become her home, at least insofar as she could actually claim anywhere as home anymore. It was time to stop thinking something better was just over the horizon. After all, Peter Pan is just a fairy tale and it was time for Wendy to grow up, to put away childish things and take care of the people in front of her.
Of all the memories she had, one image in particular played across her mind's eye -- Brian was standing at the edge of the corral next to a very pregnant Nala. The two of them were laughing at something as Nika approached, and he'd turned to see her. His expression softened into a welcoming smile. That moment, with the wind ruffling him slightly and her sister laughing up at him, she tucked into the corner of her heart where she could take it out and look at it sometimes. The rest she packed away into the back of her mind where, please God, they wouldn't plague her every second of every day.
