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“So . . .” she starts, in a conversational tone that suggests none of the words that will leave her lips next are anything he wants to hear. “What’s the real reason you stayed behind?”
She doesn’t look at him as she asks; eyes focussed instead on the screen in front of her, hands flying over the keyboard as she works to ensure the rest of the gang’s exploits on the ground don’t come to nothing.
Murphy sits back in the Captain’s chair, folds his arms across his chest and tries to give off the best nonchalant vibes that he can. Whether he’s trying to convince himself or Raven that her question hasn’t unsettled him, he’s not sure. Because damn if he hasn’t been wondering the same. Wondering what the hell had possessed him to make that stupid split-second decision, especially one that’s gone and bit him on the ass so spectacularly.
Emori’s face floats in front of him for a moment. The burning anger in her eyes, replacing the love and laughter he took for granted for five years, and the lack of hesitation as she’d spat out her words: So, let it be John.
Because that’s just what he is. Useless. Ergo, expendable.
He blinks, and she disappears, and he’s left with yet another choice to make.
He takes the coward’s way out as he twists his lips into a smirk and answers her.
(As if he would have chosen any other way.)
“Cos I’m a changed man, Reyes. Noble, self-sacrificing hero these days, haven’t you heard?”
He can see her profile clearly from where he’s sitting behind her – can see the little upward tilt of the corner of her mouth as she smiles, a snort of laughter filling the stale, artificial air, as she shakes her head. “Sure, I heard. But seeing is believing after all.”
She turns to face him then, and he obliges with a spread of his hands as if to say, well here I am.
The smile disappears and once again, Raven Reyes has him feeling uncomfortable. Open. Vulnerable. And so, he folds his arms back against his chest, kicks up his legs onto the abandoned console in front of him and crosses his feet at the ankles. It doesn’t act like the deterrent that he’d hoped it would.
“What did she say to you?”
He holds his breath, tries not to give anything away in his expression, but in the end it’s all in the way he can’t hold her gaze and the bitter laugh he exhales. After all, there’s only one she she could possibly mean.
“Because Emori’s the only reason I do anything, right?”
“No, it’s the only reason you do anything stupid.”
He says nothing, keeps his gaze pinned on the window and the vastness of space, thinking if he looks hard enough he may just see the far end of the universe.
He hears her get up, hears the footsteps get louder, the rustle of her clothes as she pushes herself up onto the console beside his feet, and if he listens really carefully, the thud of his own heart in his chest as she breathes in and out.
“I’m not one to judge though, right?” she says. “I mean, I came hurtling down to Earth in a rust bucket of a rocket for a guy who . . .” she drifts off, doesn’t finish her sentence. It doesn’t need finishing, anyway. He understands her all the same. Instead, she swallows hard and says once more. “So, yeah. I’m not one to judge. Love makes us all stupid.”
And they’re back here again. Treading the line of sharing too much, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Spilled blood, spilled tears and an apathetic boo hoo. He gladly returns the favour.
“Oh, kill me now. I’m not talking to you about this, Raven. I’ve avoided talking about it for six months, I’m not gonna start now, even if we are the only two people left here breathing.”
She side-eyes him, and it’s all there in that one glance. It’s a wordless reminder of the predicament they’re in – the hundreds of sleeping, ticking time-bombs, built from the worst of humanity, just lying in wait for them.
He rolls his own eyes in retort and brushes it aside. “You know what I mean.”
She nods, breathes out a “yeah I do,” and lets it slide.
Or so he hopes.
But if there’s one thing he’s learnt about Raven Reyes? It’s that she doesn’t give up. She’s not a quitter. And it’s also why he knows, deep down – and it’s not even blind hope, it’s faith – that she’s going to find a way out, for the both of them. It does mean though, she’s not quite done with her poking and prodding and she proves him right not a moment too soon.
“So, if it wasn’t you playing the noble, self-sacrificing hero – your words, not mine – for Emori, what was it that really made you stay?”
He tilts his head back against his chair and turns to look up at her. The remnants of her teasing smile are still there on her lips, but it’s at odds with her searching gaze, and he wonders at what she thinks he’s going to say, and what she wants him to say, and whether it’s the same.
He answers her with a teasing smile of his own. “You.”
Part of him says it just because he can. Because that’s the kind of asshole he is. Because there’s no way she’d believe him. And that’s the beauty of it. Because, somewhere deep down, there’s a shred of truth to it. He doesn’t know why he stayed, not really. There’s so many reasons he can’t put into words, but he does know that some part of him, couldn’t let her stay up here alone, and this is the only way he’ll ever admit it.
A truth packaged as an outrageous lie that she’ll never believe for a second.
And yet.
“Well, yeah, that’s a given,” she shrugs, with a grin. “I’m awesome.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Always so modest Reyes.”
The grin dissolves into a faint smile, and she has that look on her face again. As if she’s trying to see through his outer shell and get a read on him through the tangled chaos of his mind and the murky depths of his heart. And he hates it.
“Maybe you’re right, Murphy,” she says finally, as if she’s found what she’s been looking for. “Maybe you are a changed man.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and looks away, changes the subject with a clearing of his throat. “So, have you made any progress yet with . . ?” He gestures vaguely at the computers, because he really hasn’t got a clue what she’s up to.
She pushes herself off the console and stands, and this time, mercifully, she lets him breathe. “Some, but I’d make a hell of a lot more headway if I got some food in me.”
It’s a not so subtle hint if ever he heard one.
He sighs, drops his feet before standing. “I guess I should make myself useful then and go find us some, huh?”
She smirks up at him, patting him on the shoulder, once, twice, in answer, before walking back to her workstation.
With a shake of his head, he turns to leave.
He gets as far as the doors when he hears her call back.
“Hey, Murphy?”
“Yeah?” he spins back around, but she’s returned to her desk, eyes firmly back on her screen, fingers once again running confidently over the keyboard.
“I really am glad you stayed.”
And he thinks, that maybe, he is too.
End.