Chapter Text
He got to the base just as she was trying to find a solution to save her father. He was informed but wasn’t there when the Tokra, then the Asgard confirmed as well that they couldn’t do anything either.
He didn’t hear Siler saying “I’m so sorry, ma’am” either, just before he shut down the communication link and before she ran out of the room.
He still could smell the evidence of his afternoon at the grill on his t-shirt and it made him cringe. Not the smell, but the memory. That’s not how he wanted her to know. He didn’t necessarily wanted anyone to know.
He caught her in front of the locker rooms after he changed into his BDUs. She stopped in her tracks, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and she looked surprised to see him there. He assumed she was ready to retreat in the women’s locker room for a moment before she went back to her father’s hospital bed. He gave her a sad smile and asked in such a quiet and broken voice that it even surprised him:
“How’s Dad?”
Her only response was a shake of her head and the exact same look she gave him when Janet died. She hung her head for a long moment, then looked back up at him. He was still watching her intensely.
“Not good.” she said. She looked away again, trying to avoid her unshed tears betraying her fragile composure. He saw the turmoil of emotions; she always tried to put on a brave face, but he always could read her. This was a little different though, he couldn’t put a finger on it. Maybe because her emotions were live and raw and tethering on something. She took an inhale of breath that was just a tad bit sharper than normal. That’s when he saw it all. Her muscles and her posture were radiating frustration, anger, blame, self blame - nicely wrapped up in utter professionalism.
“Sir, I really appreciate you coming in,” she said looking back up at him, “but it’s too late. There’s nothing left to be done.” Oh how ironic, she thought bitterly, that this exact sentence could perfectly defined her life now, too late for everything.
She was desperately trying to salvage that little bit of dignity she had left, so she took a deep breath to continue. “You can go back home, and I let you know if anything changes.”
Damn her professionalism; this was ridiculous, he thought. It dawned on him at that moment though, that the emotional turmoil that was clearly visible in her eyes was not grief or anger, it was defeat.
He reached out, put his hand on her arm just below her shoulder and ever so gently stroked it all the way down so he was able take her hand. She followed his hand with her eyes and looked back at him with a silent question. He gently squeezed her hand so that he could give enough emphasis to the message he was just about to convey to her.
“No.” He said gently but firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.” He adjusted his fingers so he can properly hold her hand in his. He wasn’t going to leave her. “Why don’t you change in your BDUs, take a minute, or, I don’t know, slam a few locker doors? I will sit with him for a little while in the meantime?”
They stood there for a long moment, him almost unnoticeably stroking the back of her hand with his thumb while she tried to process what he just said. He was really not going anywhere. She felt like he diffused the bomb that was ticking inside of her. She squeezed his hand back as a response, while still staring at him in disbelief that after all that they’ve been through, after all they put each other through, he was there for her.
“Have you called Mark yet?” he asked still holding her hand.
“I was just going to.” she answered quietly.
“I get him a flight.” he offered. She gave him a grateful tight smile and an another squeeze of his hand. “Go” he said gently, before stepping to the side to start to leave to the infirmary, but not letting her hand go just yet. When she looked back at him, arms stretching out, as he stepped away one more step, very slowly sliding his hand out of hers, she knew that no matter what, he would always be her anchor.