Ah yes. Actual food for dinner- well done self. There’s no veggies but since you haven’t been shopping in weeks and there’s no veggies in the house we’ll forgive it.
Just finished the last 2 missions of S1 and yup, right in the feels. I hope not too many random fellow pedestrians heard me gasping and muttering "no! WHAT. Shit! AHHHH."
So here, have a little bit of totally un-beta-ed, un-Brit-picked post-S1 fic.
"Wonder if we'll ever be on speaking terms with New Canton." You've been sprawled on this couch dozing for the last thirty minutes and you know when you get up you'll be stiff as hell from the day's work. A week after the attack, Abel is seaworthy but still leaky, every day bringing new runs for what seems like every bulky, heavy, awkwardly-shaped item in a ten-mile radius. Wood, metal, construction equipment, even at one point a bag of cement mix that had you staggering home at half your normal pace.
"What for?" You heard Sam come in just a few moments ago and unwrap a cough drop, chasing it with some water. You've been doing a lot of running, and he's been doing a lot of talking.
"I just -- I wish I could apologize to that radio operator of theirs, Nadia. I hated deceiving her, making her think the runner she cared for was still alive."
Sam's leaning on the back of the couch and looking down at you; you can hear him breathing and the small noises of his weight shifting.
"I know."
"I just kept thinking -- what if it were you? What if I were out there, and you thought I died, but then you saw my tracker pop back up one day? Would it have shaken you as badly as it did her?"
"Yeah." He huffs, almost a laugh. "It would. I'd be totally useless."
"Sam--" You open your eyes, take in Sam's sad face before grabbing his wrist. "Let's get one thing clear. I promise you, when I go, you'll know I'm gone."
"Christ--" Sam ducks his head, turns his face away, but his hand clutches at yours, fingers knotting together.
"I promise. None of this 'sparing you' bullshit. You'll be the last person I talk to, and the last person I think of, and you will damn well hear it when I die."
"That's-- disturbing, but somehow reassuring at the same time." You can hear the humor and horror mingled in his voice.
