Work Text:
The knowledge of what was going to happen weighs you down instead of lightening your steps with purpose. Guilt hangs close to your throat, suffocating you in all the wrong moments where you still could’ve made a difference.
When you woke up in the medbay after you utterly failed at typing in the code even a baby could remember to recalibrate the shields to keep this whole shitshow from happening, everything felt so impossibly heavy. Instead of going out there to greet the day, to greet the colony as it was still idolized in your head, before Lum and the famine and all the other things you had to prevent once more, you just lay there.
After that, you thought you’d shaken it off, but on the day you were supposed to save Tammy, you arrived just in time to catch her charred body as it was thrown at you.
Everything spiraled out of control even further afterwards.
And now you’re walking across the fields your parents loved with every fiber of their beings and seeing Cal’s cheery smile just makes you want to cry, or throw up, or maybe scream. Or to grab a bomb and hurl yourself along with it at Lum as soon as he steps into your view again, but that emotion isn’t anything new.
He notices. Of course he does because he cares about you. Guilt takes a stab at your chest and hits the bullseye, like it always does this time around. He cares about you because you’d been too slow to make sure Tammy stayed alive.
“Are you okay?” His face is filled with earnest worry as he walks over to you.
Part of you wants to brush him off, but then you remember: this timeline is already fucked anyways, what’s some more prime 'Sol fucks everything up beyond repair'? “I-”
You stop for a moment, surprised at how unsteady your voice sounds. “I just can’t take it. I keep fucking up and- and I’m trying! But- but I went wrong somewhere, I had to, because I just make everything worse and-”
Cal takes both your shoulders with a gentleness you’ve come to expect from him. “It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Remember that one time-”
“-you tried to milk a floatcow, but it got away and peed all over the colony?” Your tone is almost bored, with an underlying fury you didn’t realize you had in yourself. As soon as the words hang in front of Cal’s now conflicted face, you regret them. (Well, most of you did. There was a growing part reminding you that he wouldn’t remember anyways.) “Sorry. I know you’re trying to help.”
You should’ve just kept this to yourself. But now that you are talking, you can’t get the words to stop anymore. “You don’t have to bother. It doesn’t matter anyways.”
He looks at you with an emotion you can’t decode written all over his kind, caring eyes. “Of course you matter, Sol. I’m so sorry if I made you fee-”
“No. No, Cal, this isn’t on you.” Right now, guilt definitely makes you want to hurl. Cal, who has never been anything but kind, even as he chose Tammy over you again and again, thought this was his fault. “I’m the fuck-up here, not you. I- I couldn’t even save dad this time. I know how to make the cure, I know , but I screwed it up! And then I let mom starve because- because I couldn’t find the stupid- stupid plants because all my expeditions just went sideways.”
Faintly, you can feel yourself shake as something about your face starts to feel different, but you don’t care. It feels good to let it all out, even if it’s going to destroy one of your few chances you have with Cal. “And now they’re all dead. Just like Tonin and Kom and Hal and god, Tammy, I’m so sorry, Tammy. I tried. I really tried, but everything I do is wrong and what if- what if this carries over now? What if I’m just going to fuck everyone over for eternity until there’s nothing left and I’m-”
You’re interrupted by Cal pulling you close enough that your bodies collide. Warm, strong arms wrap around you and only then do you realize that what you thought was just faint shaking was actually bone-deep trembling that was now reverberating through Cal. You inhale his scent, desperately hoping you can force yourself to remember the smell of dirt and flowers sticking to him. (It had always reminded you of your parents, except he was missing their characteristic sweat.) With your face pressed so close to his chest, you can feel the moment he steels himself and with newfound energy you hadn’t realized was there, dread started to pool in what was left of your stomach.
“I’m sorry the stress has been getting to you. Let’s take some time off, you’ve pushed yourself enough.” Each word is like a new slap to the face. You knew it was coming, you knew nobody would believe you (except Sym, but-), and yet you’ve failed to prepare yourself for it. Before you could wrangle back control of your body from your shellshocked emotions, Cal continues talking, this time a lot quieter, a whisper you only barely manage to catch because your heads are so close together. “People are starting to watch. We should probably go somewhere private. I…”
He trailed off and you could barely bite back your sudden sob in time. Does he…? Even if he doesn’t, he still cares about you enough to let you down without spectators.
You nod and, after another moment of holding you, Cal steps out of the hug and takes your hand. He guides you down a familiar path, past more people watching, staring right at you, until finally, you reach the quarters he shares with his mother. As soon as you’re in his room, he gently closes the door as you take a few measured steps towards his bed, lie down in it and let it all crash over you like a horrible wave made of your nightmares.
Cal is beside you before you can even register the mattress dipping with his added weight, an arm carefully wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close again. You press yourself against him, clinging as close as you can, as if he was your anchor in this shipwreck of a life. And he was, in a way. No matter what you did, his kindness never changes.
That thought wrings a choked sob out of you. You don't deserve it, not this time around at least. Not after you killed so many people.
His hand finds a way into your hair and plays with it, fingertips brushing your scalp in a way that makes you tighten your grip on him. This is all you’ve ever wanted. A quiet, peaceful life with Cal where your biggest worries would be hauling all the rocks she needs to eat to Socks. But in each version you’ve lived, a part is always missing. It’s always the peace, but, more often than not, it’s also Cal. You close your eyes and pretend this will last forever, even as your sobs are proof that it won’t be.
Gradually, you begin to calm as what little strength you had left leaves your body. Cal shifts around, gently propping you up a little so you’re half sitting, half lying on top of him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You’re not sure. But after everything Cal does for you in each of his too-short lives, he at least should get the chance to know what’s really happening. So you tell him. Unsure, at first and starting in the middle. You ramble something about Sym and Gardeners and how you’re like them in one crucial way before remembering that this Cal doesn’t know anything about the “aliens” on this planet. Eventually, you find a way to start talking about the time loop that has no beginning or end, how you’re trying so hard to get everything right just once, give everyone the life they should’ve gotten and how you keep messing up.
He listens.
Occasionally, he prods you about this or that, needing (or wanting?) more context, but he leaves most of the talking to you. It’s good, better than you thought, to talk about this and have someone listen to you. You still can’t quite tell if he believes you or if he just plays along, but it hardly feels like it matters. Not when he holds you this close. Not when his body blocks out the harsh truth of reality, even if it’s just for a bit.
You unceremoniously end the whole thing by trailing off and hiding your face in Cal’s shoulder.
One of his hands rubs slow circles against your back while you can practically feel him staring at you. But you keep your head down, afraid of what you will see written over his face once your eyes meet again. This might be the last time you get to feel secure in his arms in this life and you intend to cherish the moment for as long as you possibly can.
“Sol…” His words disappear into the air. “Solane, I- this has to be- is there something I can do to help?”
What? You look up despite knowing better. “Do you… actually believe me?”
Cal exhales and reaches out to hold your face with one hand, thumb caressing your cheek. “I do. I know you, Sol. I know you wouldn’t lie about this. Besides, it makes sense.”
“It does?”
He considers that for a moment. “I guess you wouldn’t notice, but to me it always seemed like you knew things. More than you should. I always tried to explain it away with your augmentation, but genetics can’t make you predict things with the accuracy you do.”
You can feel tears build up in your eyes again and quickly wipe them away before they can spill over.
He believes you.
Cal actually believes you.
“Oh, Sol,” he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, “how do I help? Can I- Can I make this more bearable for you, even if it’s just temporary?”
There’s not a whole lot left to do. You’re almost twenty - you’ve learned through blood and sweat and tears that for some reason, that’s the critical turning point after which your life diverges into too many different possibilities that you can’t keep track of them anymore - you’ve lost more people than you can recall for quite a few lives, Lum’s gonna wreck what’s left of the planet sooner or later and then it’ll all start again.
There’s not a whole lot left to do, aside from living this life until it’s run its course. You already feel selfish, but he did offer. And he does care about you. “Can you just be there for me? I don’t know how to keep going alone.”
(You’re going to have to learn, you know that. Cal’s going to die way before you, but for now he’s still alive.)
“Of course I can. Of course. I’m always going to be.” Your first instinct is to recall some time when he wasn’t, but your mind comes up blank. Whenever you’ve talked to him about something, he was nothing but kind.
You pull your head away from his and hide your face somewhere between his shoulder and neck again. “Thank you. I mean it.”
And you really do. The guilt isn’t magically gone, but talking about it still helped. Knowing someone now knows what you’re going through and, more than that, also believes you helps. Having Cal hold you while you feel your tears slip free helps.
In your next life, Cal sticks a little closer to you.