Work Text:
Mav is at his usual task of making dinner when his phone rings.
“Kerner,” he says, securing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “What do you want?”
“Just checking in, Shortstack,” Slider replies.
Mav hums. The usual question. “Wait a sec. I need to put the pasta bake into the oven.”
He does exactly that, then sits down at the kitchen table, now holding his phone against his ear with his hand.
“I'm back,” he announces. “He's napping. I'm making dinner. Side effects are terrible and he's stubborn and angry at everyone and everything. Still not talking.”
He notices how mechanical and worn out he sounds and he feels bad for it. He's doing Ice wrong with it. It's not his fault that this is the way it is at the moment.
“And how are you doing?”
The question catches Mav off-guard. Usually, Slider's phone calls are about Ice, not him. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I want to know, dumbass.”
Mav snorts half-heartedly. Why would he care?
“You’re my friend, too. Unbelievable I know. But you sound exhausted. And I'm worried about you, too.” Slider sounds serious, like he means it.
Mav hums, thinking for a moment about what to say, how honest he wants to be. Then he decides for the full truth. It's Slider after all and he's right. As unlikely as it might seem, they are friends.
“I feel like shit.” He runs his free hand through his face with a heavy sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it, Pete?” His voice is much softer than it usually is and he's using his name , not some insult. Mav's not even sure Slider has ever used his given name. That he does now drives tears into Mav's eyes instantly.
“I just don't know how to handle it all anymore. I mean, we're getting by, somehow. It could be worse, definitely. But… I don't know… I feel like I need a break. His cancer, the treatment, how he's coping, physically and emotionally, household chores and keeping everyone updated on how he's doing. It's all I'm ever thinking about. Sometimes I just stay in here, in the kitchen I mean, for longer than necessary to just… be alone… take a breath. Does that make any sense?
“I love him but it's just so fucking exhausting, not to love him… but everything around it. And I know he loves me back but… I don't know… I just need some validation sometimes, too, you know?
“And I just don't want to be responsible for once. Sometimes I even just want to leave, not leave him, but just leave. I feel terrible for thinking this way but… I just can't help it.
“And… and I miss his voice… I don't care what he sounds like now… I just miss him talking to me… and he just refuses to. No matter what I do, he doesn't talk… and it kills me to see him like this… and… and it's all just too much.”
A heavy sob escapes Mav and he realizes that he's been crying the whole time.
“I'm sorry, Ron, I… I didn't…”
“Don't apologize. I asked and you answered,” Slider replies, voice soft yet insistent. “Do you want my opinion?”
“Please,” Mav sniffs and gets himself a paper towel to blow his nose.
“Okay, first of all, this is not what you signed up for, Mav, and I…”
“Actually I did sign up for it. Kind of. We got together after he had told me that he's sick. I knew what I was getting myself into. I could’ve just said that I don't love him back.”
“Do you regret it?”
“What?”
“Telling him that you love him back.”
“No, of course not.”
“See?”
Mav harrumphs.
“What I was going to say: I think you should go back to work.”
“What?”
“Go back to work. You need to get out of there. How do you even have so much leave?”
“Ice made Cain grant it,” Mav explains quickly. “But I can't just go back to work. China Lake is a three hour drive minimum. I would have to stay there for a week, then come back here for the weekend, like I did during the first and half of the second chemo cycle. I can't do that now… I can't leave him alone.”
“You don't think he'd get by alone for a couple of days?”
“No way. Even if I did some meal prepping, you know how he is and it's gotten worse since the chemo changed his taste. I have to tell him to eat every fucking time … and I need to be here to… to keep him from… hurting himself.”
Mav swallows hard. He's never told that to anyone. It's an unspoken secret between them and if Ice ever finds out that he's told somebody about it… well, he doesn't want to think about it. Then again, maybe it would make him so angry that he'd talk again.
There's silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “What does he do?”
“Punching his thighs, usually, or at least that’s what I know.”
“Have you thought about getting help?”
“His oncologist regularly advises him to see a psychiatrist but he refuses to.”
“Of course, he does. What about you?”
“What’s about me?”
“Have you thought about getting help for yourself ?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should think about that, too. I don't even say see a therapist. Just… something like a support group? Talk to other people who are in a similar position.”
“I don't know.”
“Just think about it.”
“If you say so.”
“And think about going back to work, too.”
“That's not possible.”
“China Lake might not be possible but what about North Island?”
“How am I supposed to get a job there? I can't just go there and ask?”
“Actually, yes, you can. You're a highly decorated captain and it's widely known that you and our lovely Admiral Kazansky have a very special bond. Should be enough to get you a position there, don't you think?”
Mav thinks for a moment. “I… the idea doesn't sound too bad actually.”
“I know.”
“Obnoxious prick.”
Slider simply ignores his comment. “I’m sure it'll do you good. And you know, you can ask me for help, too, right?”
“Dinner's almost ready,” Mav announces although there are still more than 15 minutes on the timer.
“I mean that, Pete! Want me to look into support groups for you? I'll do it. Want me to keep our mutual friend group updated? I'll do it. Want me to kick Ice's ass for taking you and everything you do for granted? I'll do it. Want me to talk to Ice about seeing a therapist? I'll do it. Want me to…”
“Okay, okay, I got it…,” Mav cuts him off. “... and you're really offering to do all that?”
“Yes, everything.” His answer comes without any hesitation.
Mav sighs. “Thank you, Ron.”
“No problem at all.” He can hear Slider smiling. “Just tell me and I'll do whatever I can to help my two best friends.”
They keep talking until the timer for the pasta bake beeps, Mav actually taking Slider up on some of his offers. They hang up and for the first time in forever Mav actually thinks that they will actually get through this, both of them.