#noldensource

[truthofherdreams]

[truthofherdreams]

endless list of favourite female characters ❤ Naomi Nagata (The Expanse)

[truthofherdreams]

[truthofherdreams]

you’ll blow us all away

I am playing VERY fast and loose with the canon of the books (which, lmao, I haven't read yet) and what was heavily hinted at during 2x08 Pyre.

So, spoilers, I guess?

Even if it's most likely going to get jossed quickly enough, this is my take on Naomi's past and secrets.

Naomi’s heart falls in her stomach the moment she hears the news. Holden’s face is grim, as it ever is, when he announces that the protomolecule was found on Ceres. Blood rushes to her ears, ringing until the high-pitched tone makes her dizzy and breathless and all she can think is Ceres Ceres Ceres Ceres. Naomi tries to take a breath, but it gets stuck in her throat and she chokes on it, chokes on her own feelings and the panic rising within her, drowning her thoughts and her heart and ringing and ringing and ringing in her ears.

“We need to go back.” She doesn’t recognize the hollow echo of her own voice, and it may sound strange to Holden’s ears too if the way he looks at her is anything to go by. Alex is frowning, Amos knows too much for his own good, and Holden looks at her like she just lost her goddamn mind for good. She can’t exactly blame him, when she feels like going mad.

“No way,” he replies in a gruff voice. “If it’s unstable, Ceres is doomed.”

Which – she can’t exactly blame him for it, not after Eros, not when he wakes up in a cold sweat every few days. She can’t blame him for protecting himself and his crew but she also very much hates him for it, right now.

“We don’t know that,” she argues. “We could save lives, save people and–”

“Naomi, no.” His eyes are pained, her knight in a shining armour who will never be able to save everyone, who will always shoulder the weight of the lives he lost. Ceres will be on him, the way he still blames himself for Eros, for the little ship he blasted off, for everything and everyone.

Any other day, Naomi wouldn’t push.

But this isn’t any other day.

“This is our people, Holden. Our friends. Our families. We – we can’t just –”

“Enough.” His voice deepens into that tone he only uses when he plays captain – when Alex is getting frisky or when Amos is being, well, Amos. Never on her, not in a long while at least, perhaps because they both know it would be useless and they both know she will do as she wishes anyway.

“No.” She gets into his face, chin up to make up for the few inches he has on her. Surprise flashes through his eyes at her suddenly proximity, and she’s pretty sure Alex sucks in a breath at her act of defiance. Holden wrinkles his nose, just a little, before he glares back. “We go to Ceres, we assess the situation, and we save those damn lives.”

Holden doesn’t reply, not at first. Instead, he engages in her staring contest, levelling her with even eyes. They’ve been doing this a lot in bed, staring and staring until one of them blinked and the other laughed in victory, childish and playful. It is different now, heavy with too many words Naomi refuses to utter, while Holden looks at her like he is trying to read her damn mind – and wouldn’t those superpowers he never developed be handy right now?

“What aren’t you telling me?”

She squares her shoulders, bracing herself for the lie that slips out of her tongue. “Nothing.”

“Don’t play that game with me,” he snaps back. They are definitely making a scene now, in front of Alex and Amos no less. “You’ve been acting strange since we left Tycho, ever since the whole thing with Meng and so help me if it has anything to do with Fred John–”

“MY SON,” she hears herself yell. “My son is on Ceres, Jim.”

Alex definitely sucks in a loud breath this time, Amos shifting in the corner of her eye, but all Naomi can focus on is the stricken look on Holden’s features – surprise and pain and betrayal mixing together in a strange grimace that he barely manages to erase into a more neutral expression. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, after all, even more so when she was involved.

Naomi shifts on her feet, trying to be taller than she actually feels but mostly failing. It is sheer stubbornness that keeps her feet planted on the ground, that keeps her from running away from him, from this conversation, from absolutely everything and anything.

A muscles twitches in Holden’s cheek when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” And then, when he realises how harsh the words are on his tongue, a second time – his voice soft, his eyes gentle. “Naomi, why didn’t you tell me?”

She wets her lips and swallows down the tears she has been refusing to shed for years now. There is no point, she tells herself, she only needs to move on and away from the life she used to call hers. There is no point anymore -- she has been mourning for far too long, the what ifs and if onlys that kept her awake after the incident, staring at her boy’s picture on her tablet until her eyes burnt and her throat was dry.

“What was I supposed to say, Jim? That my OPA husband took my OPA son from me and is now raising him in his OPA base?” Holden’s eyes widen at her words, and she wants to laugh bitterly. “What, you thought this-” she points at her own neck- “was just a birthmark?”

She is being unfair, she knows -- misplacing her anger and her bitterness, getting herself worked up over things she cannot change. But damn if she wants to be angry, to yell and scream and punch a wall until her knuckles are bloodied, until her brain drowns in a sea of painful memories.

Instead, Naomi chances a glance Alex’s way. His eyes are nothing but kind and understanding, and perhaps it is the worst part -- someone who knows what she is going through. Not entirely, not really, but just enough to make her feel like she isn’t so alone anymore.

And perhaps this is the scariest thought of all -- getting people’s empathy and sympathy. She can’t deal with this right now, not when she feels like exploding. So, with a last glance at Holden, she walks away as fast as she can without running. Amos takes a step toward her, but she stops him with a raised hand and a ‘I’m fine’ that sounds hollow even to her own ears. Not that she wants to convince them anyway, her feelings written all over her face.

She’s about to make it back to the kitchen, hoping against hope that she can find some of Miller’s hidden stash somewhere, when fingers wrap around her wrist. “Amos, I told you, I’m--”

But of course it isn’t Amos. Of course it is Holden, with his puppy eyes and his puppy face. (Naomi has never seen a dog in her life but if she has to guess, that’s what a puppy face looks like.) She squares her shoulders once more, ready for yet another fight. And aren’t they doing this a lot lately, the pushing and the pulling, the never-ending arguing. Keeping each other in check, no matter how mentally draining it can be at times.

“What’s his name?”

The question takes Naomi by surprise, so much so that she takes a step back as her mouth first opens in silence. She finds her words quickly enough, though. “Filip,” she says, ignoring how it sounds as it rolls on her tongue for the first time in years. “His name is Filip. He’s twelve.”

Holden nods, a solemn tilt of his head. “We’ll try our best.”

She is at lost for words for a moment, and can only reply, “You’re not mad.”

“Of course I’m mad.” But he sighs and moves closer, raises a hand to cup her jaw and tilt her head up. “But you are hurting, so right now your feelings matter more than mine.” Naomi tries for a smile, but it might as well be a grimace. “Whatever makes you feel like you can’t trust me with your past -- I want you to know that I will never judge you. I love you far too much for that.”

Naomi wonders what she did to deserve him -- this intense, beautiful, caring man who will always put her first, who will always try his best with her. She was too young with Marco, too besotted to notice how wrong they were for each other. How wrong he was for her. But Holden is her person -- he understands her in a way nobody ever did, loves her in a way nobody ever did. And it is hard for her, to put her unconditional truth in someone and hopes they will not use that against her. But Holden is good. A good man.

“Thank you,” she finds herself whispering, before she finds her way to the comfort of his embrace. He’s warm and solid, all Earth muscles and careful hugs. Her nose pressed against his collarbone, she sighs deeply, lets herself be comforted.

“You think he’ll like me?” he asks softly.

Naomi finds herself laughing.

Yes, definitely her person.

[truthofherdreams]

It’s in the little things, she decides.

It is the way he drinks his coffee every morning – or at least, every whatever-the-hell-is-morning-in-outer-space. His eyes are still half-closed, lids heavy with the sleep he hasn’t fully shaken off quite yet, and he navigates his way to the kitchen with the ease that only comes after months in the same enclosed space. The way he puts the mug under the coffee machine is all but delicate, but his fingers barely brush the button before he leans against the counter with a groan. Naomi watches him from her spot at the table – always the first to wake up, way before Alex or Holden, or even Amos who takes forever to get out of bed. And then she smiles at him, fond, amused, when Holden finally gets his first sip of coffee and sighs deeply. Eye closed, head tilt back, his Adam’s apple working as he gulps down the precious liquid. And then he looks at her staring at him, and smiles – little wrinkles around his eyes, and her heart growing bigger, warmer.

It’s how he forces himself not to touch her when they’re on deck, leaning above her chair and giving his orders. It’s the way his fingers will linger above her shoulder but never graze, because Amos is sitting just next to her, because Alex is waiting for his next command, because they have shit to get done and places to be and Holden is a great many things but unprofessional he is not. Not when the weight of the lives they lost still hangs heavily on his shoulders, not when he believes he needs to save the entire galaxy and then some. He leans into her personal space, Naomi’s breath caught in her throat, but in those moments he’s her captain, not her – whatever he is to her.

It’s the weekly messages he sends his mother, talking about the crew’s latest exploits and the people they saved, the successful missions. He smiles to himself as he leans above the speaking device, and glances at her when he tells his mother that everything is fine, and he can’t wait for her to meet his crew, and he hopes she’s proud. Naomi has never been much of a family girl – you learn not to get attached to anyone in The Belt, not even your parents, not even your family. But Holden is too much of an Earther for his own good, and he loves his mother so much it makes Naomi melt a little. He tells her he will introduce them, one day, her and his mother and his father and his mother and… And she smiles, and kisses him, and laughs at this big sap that wants himself tough.

It’s how he looks up to her, when a decision needs to be made and he can no longer handle being captain, can no longer deal with the role that was thrust on him when he didn’t ask. Nothing but a glance, a nod, a touch of her hand against his – nothing but a silent conversation that lasts a second but means so much. He values her input more than anyone ever did, and trusts her to make the hard choices with him. He trusts her with his crew, his ship, his hero complex, and she opens her arms to him willingly. Figuratively or not, hugging him to her in the darkness until he stops shivering, until she chases away the nightmares that have been plaguing him since Eros.

It’s this and so much more – his smiles, the way he rolls his eyes at Alex’s magic tricks, his sarcastic banter with Amos, and how he laughs at the insults she throws at him. It’s the way he wraps his arms around her waist to hug her from behind. It’s the stupid Earther baseball cap he insists on wearing. It’s his shirt fitting so well to his body. It’s his voice, rolling like rocks carried by waves.

It’s this, and so much more, that has Naomi certain that she loves him.