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There is something quite strange about loving two people at once. It was funny, if one was a cynical, cold bastard, and looked at it the wrong way, because Takeshi had once thought himself incapable of loving even one.
With Quell he’d fallen in love headfirst, and never realized what it was exactly until he found himself ready to die at her word. He had assumed it was just biological attraction twined with the sort of respect and admiration no one had managed to arouse from him yet. He’d seen her for the first time on the end of the bridge, far off and not too clear, and yet he’d never been able to look away.
When she’d died, it was her name he’d taken to repeating every night. Her face in his dreams, the shine of her skin every time he closed his eyes to a restless sleep on the run. Her voice in his ear, warning him, low and sultry and so far away, unlike it had ever been when she was alive.
And then he meets Ortega, and she’s just Ortega, until one day he’s calling her Kristen. Until one day he can’t excuse the attraction to the sleeve he’s wearing, and until he can’t help but need to see her safe. Takeshi always thought he’d be selfish with love after Quell, and yet he tells Ortega what he knows will hurt her, if only on the off chance that it’ll keep her safe.
He’s been in love with someone else for over two and a half centuries. He has always belonged to Quell, and he always will, he thinks. And yet he thinks if there was anyone who could understand and name the deep ache in him as he walks away from Kristen, it would be Quell.
.
Up until Ryker went under, the worst day in Kristen’s life was when her father had been murdered. And up until her family had been killed, the worst day of her life was when Ryker had been arrested.
When they’d told her his sleeve was going to be in use, she’d made sure she was present to see who’d gotten it. And she’d waited in the bathroom, biting down on her knuckle until it bled, holding tears back at the idea of seeing him again. She’d tried to prepare herself for how this new man would possess Ryker’s sleeve. What his eyes would look like, eyes that had seen every part of her.
And she’d hated Kovacs when she’d met him – disliked him for a long time after she’d stopped hating him. She’d convinced herself, briefly, that she was only concerned for him because he had something of hers borrowed -something that belonged to Elias. And yet, it wasn’t Elias she was thinking of when she’d fucked him, or when she’d held him. She’d gone to sleep with the realization that there was no way she could spin it: Kovacs was far too different than Elias, and the thought hadn’t bothered her as much as it should have.
She’d gone to sleep in his arms, arms she’d fallen asleep in countless times before – and yet like all things, he held her different to Elias. In those damning moments where she was about to fall asleep, she’d thought with a sort of clarity that was frightening in its honest intensity: Takeshi Kovacs. The curl of his arm around her was unfamiliar, and yet she liked it as much as she had liked Elias’ hold on her. She briefly toyed with the thought of how gentle he’d been, for a terrorist trained to kill. Then sleep had overtaken her, the waves lulling against her conscious, and when she’d awoken she’d been ashamed to find no regret left behind on the shore.
.
When he turns to leave, there’s a moment where Ortega wants to close her eyes and imagine the alternative. It hurts with how easily it comes to her. He could stay, consequences be damned. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how it feels to watch him walk away.
Everything she knows is gone. Everyone she knows is dead. He’s the only one who’s seen the old Ortega and how she’s changed. She’s not the girl Elias left behind. She won’t ever be again. She wants to tell him: you’re the only person left who knows me. Elias doesn’t know me. He never will, not the way you do. She wants to tell him, don’t go. I know what you feel, so don’t go.
If she closes her eyes, she can see how easy it would be. How good it would feel to kiss him again, and think, Takeshi kovacs. But she doesn’t, because he won’t stay, and she won’t be asking him to, and because if she closes her eyes, her pain will leave tracks of proof down her face.
.
He tries to extend it for as long as he can, tries to stay as long as he can. It’s over faster than he means it to be. If Quell were here, she would tell him to say something that might convey what he feels. Clarify what it was, whatever it was. The way she had, holding his hand, saying, it wasn’t a mistake.
But Takeshi isn’t quite sure how long he can stay with the ghost of another man and another woman between them. Especially since they aren’t really ghosts. He’s not sure how long he can tempt himself with, before it hurts both of them more than it already is. He thinks, briefly, I love you, and I love her, and you could love me, and you’re not sure if you love him. He thinks, this was not a game, and, this was not a mistake.
But he doesn’t say anything, just looks at her. Maybe, he thinks in the sort of realistic optimism only Quell had managed to inspire in him, maybe Ortega already knows what it was- the way he had known, back when Quell had reassured him. Perhaps, even if he did say it, all she would do is smile, and say, I know.