Chapter Text
People come and go. They come and go and take their voices with them. But the noise still stays. The drum of the engines, the clangor of working machines, the beeping of everything automatic, the babel of terminals, with their fluorescent newsfeed and announcements; the invasive neon lights that never give night a chance in that place; even those, he was aware, were producing little endless buzzing noises. And yet there was a deafening silence inside his mind; and yet he chose this active hive as a place of solace where he could find his own thoughts.
They come and go, the noise remains, and so did he, amiss on a bench by the docks of Tycho station, like an old, forgotten belonging. But that was not true; not entirely - old he was and most of the time he felt like that as well; except when he didn’t. His eyes followed the sharp curves of the ship docked in front of him; haughty, in perfect condition; almost taunting him that she could dart away the moment he’d blink; forgotten was a matter of perspective. Forgotten to the world? Maybe. No one spared him a glance; no one would spare him a glance when their eyes could insatiably take in the pinnace at the docks as if it were a jewel misplaced between rocks; but he was not forgotten. And there was a time when he didn’t really belong; without a place, without an affinity… but that was then, and this is now; he did belong.
She gently took a seat next to him, on the empty bench, the one he had claimed as his own with his draped body to show that he was in no need of company; but she didn’t mind and did it anyway with grace and nonchalance. He did not glance her way; with his head tilted, he could not take his eyes from the ship; afraid to wake up from the calm moment of reverie he felt; afraid that if he’d look away she’d dart into the unknown; and she’d be gone, and gone, and gone.
Instead he read the stylized letters in his head and even when no words came out, he knew his tongue was spelling Razorback against the roof of his mouth with a sense of familiarity.
It’s ok to look away he told himself and it took his erratic tug at her hand to realize she had intertwined their fingers, and rested their hands on his bony knee. Yet, he didn’t. He kept his eyes on the ship as if he could figure out a way to make it stay. He was good at figuring things out.
But then her head found shelter on his shoulder, her hair tickling the side of his jaw, and he wished he could see her face; she nestled shortly and lightly against his collarbone and he knew there was something he was supposed to do, but he had forgotten why or how; he would not win this one; nor would he ever; not that he would actually want to; he wanted her to stay, and that was all.
So they shared the silence; they also shared the noise; the lights and the passage of people; they shared that moment and the most beautiful fact was that they shared the same world.
'You better come back.' To me his mind went on but there was no need to say it out loud. It was too personal to let it out in the open and share it with the rest of the world, but she knew. And that was what mattered.
'I always do.' He couldn't say for sure if those words she spoke or if she smiled them. He felt ridiculous for his own thoughts but she had answered his fears and that made her declaration true and irreversible.
She moved again and he saw her smile this time. Serene and certain. His Julie was always like this. The Universe could not say no to her.
Then she looked down at their hands before gently lifting them and pressing her lips on the back of his hand. She lingered there, her eyes closed, her entire being at peace. She kissed his ugly hand, too big for hers, and he had no more worries, no more fears, no more dark what ifs. Her smile was on his lips but he doubted he'd ever make a sight as beautiful as her.
Her thin eyelashes revealed her eyes that looked up, right into his.
'And if I don't, you'll come looking for me.'
Yeah, optimism was for Earthers, but this Earther had lost everything, including her home. That hadn’t stopped her; hadn’t made her give up. Instead, she made him her home and intoxicated him with everything she ever believed in.
The smile on his face was now less of an echo of hers, and closer to his own canny, worn grin.
'Always.'
She nodded; with both their hands; he answered with a slight movement of his head.
And then her laugher silenced everything else, so sincere at their exchange of gestures, lifting a weight off his heart, off both of their shoulders; and goodbyes seemed a little easier to accept.
Her hand terminal beeped and flickered green. He didn’t wait for her to explain it was time to go. Time to let her go. Instead, he guided her up with his hand, offering her support as she took her first step towards the ship and away from him. Offering her support. Unconditionally. He did not get up but followed her with the smile still on his lips. That’s how it always went; no grand entrances and no dramatic departures; like time just starts, pauses, and starts again.
At the hatch of her pinnace she turned around, sharp and lively, throwing one of her rich and confident smiles his way; at the back of his mind he heard engines come to life; she wanted to stay, to keep time flowing, but her convictions were stronger than her desires. She gave so much. Unconditionally.
She tugged at her jumper suit, wanting the last image he had of her to be impeccable. People came and went in the distance between them but they mattered little. She was not aware of her small gestures but he was. And it kept him smiling.
Long after she vanished, long after the engines were hissing in anticipation, long after the Razorback carried her to the stars.
The noise returned. The noise remained. But the man didn't.