Chapter Text
Max knows better than to ask.
Everyone has a story, some people have that story on display more than others—and not always willingly.
That’s life in the colonies. Hard, cruel, and relentless. But the Captain says they’re not from Halcyon, but Earth. When the Captain told him that maybe they realized that they sounded like a lunatic because they never mentioned it again. Not that that did much. And shit, trying to take down The Board because an old criminal scientist told them to? Maybe they did have some serious head trauma to match that scar…
Once when Max was alone in his quarters he caught himself tracing where the Captain’s scars would be on his own face. He’d been doing it for so long that when he pulled his fingers away they were tingling.
They were deep scars, deep long scars. They curved upwards on either side like a cruel smile.
The Captain never appeared to try and hide them. They never wore a face mask or helmet when they weren’t in dangerous territory. They didn’t seem to use makeup either. On first glance one would assume the captain was content—if not proud–of the mutilation.
You would only think otherwise if you looked at the Captain. Looked with an effort to observe. When they laughed or smiled their hand came up to cover their mouth reflexively. They spoke more when they weren’t looking directly at you. When they had to face you the Captain spoke in short, chipped words. Only getting out what was absolutely necessary. Many of the people who hired The Unreliable’s services thought that that was just the Captain’s nature. There was a time that Max thought that way too.
It was actually that crazy statement–the one about being from Earth, that got Max to look closer. Because by all other accounts the Captain seemed downright sane. As mentally there as anyone could be in this goddamn colony. It didn't make any sense.
They still didn't make any sense.
Max will let himself ask the Captain anything–anything but that. He tried a few times against his better judgment but his throat closed up before he could get the words out. No one else asked or knew either. Ellie and Nyoka only seemed to have a passing interest, Parvati seemed worried but never vocalized it (whether worried for her Captain or worried for herself and the life she'd recently taken up is debatable), Felix just thinks it's cool and almost asked the question they'd all been dancing around until a look from Ellie shut him up. ADA and SAM don't really seem to care about it at all.
Sometimes Max wonders if they all secretly care as much as he does, or if he just cares way too much.
He probably does care too much. Running with the Captain is one of the better options for freelance work and he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially since they agreed to help him translate his book.
Old Max wouldn't have cared, if asked he would've sneered and said he'd seen worse. Maybe all that work as a vicar has worn him down and made him more sensitive. There's nothing wrong with being sensitive except that it doesn't get you much in this line of work. Or this colony. Besides, the Captain is strong. They don't need his sensitivity.
They need him to do the work that needs to be done.
So that's exactly what he'll do.
He'll do all the shooting, and the hacking, and the brawling, and keep his thoughts to himself. He'll keep his unimportant questions close to his chest and if the Captain ever decides to share the story he'll listen as intently as he can. He just hopes that the tale is good enough to sate his curiosity.
He also hopes that he runs into whoever–or whatever–gave the Captain that scar, so that he can return the favor in kind. Tenfold.