Work Text:
Title: Cold Face, Warm Eyes.
Eisele was at the Mess Hall, sitting at one of the tables in the lower left corner while rereading Moon Lander by Thomas J. Kelly. It was an old novel, but a good one. She especially found it relevant considering their mission of orbiting Tau Ceti f. Reading about the development of the Apollo Lunar Module was riveting, at least to her. Anders wasn’t into it, Stafford was bored by it (even if he tried easing that onto Eisele), Young thought it was fine, and Mitchell simply tossed it back at her. She quit trying at that point. It was still her favorite book, even if no one else would appreciate it as much as her. The Apollo Lunar Module was one of the main reasons she got obsessed with designing spaceships. Watching old footage of the module flying in space was awe-inspiring, to say the least. It was like how Williams was inspired by Stafford, or whatever he said in his tenth monologue about the Commander.
“Eisele?” Carter asked, interrupting her reading. She stared at his nose (not his eyes), giving him her full attention to see what he wanted. He held up an empty mug and said, “You want me to fill you a cup of joe? Maybe a double-double?”
The question made sense. Since he and Simms were sleep technicians and everyone was awake, Williams had them relegated to coffee duty, which they both took in joyful stride. Carter himself had a lopsided smile that was charming to some. Eisele found it boyish, but she could see how others saw it differently.
Eisele wasn’t particularly thirsty for any liquids at the moment, but she was feeling tired. Staying up writing can do that. Then Simms walked up next to Carter, who towered over her in height. She too had a smile, but she also looked annoyed.
At me or at Carter?, Eisele asked herself.
“In case you didn’t understand his weird Canadian words, he’s asking if you want coffee.” Was Eisele taking that long to answer?
“I’ll take one. Black, preferably.” She answered in succinct fashion. Eisele hated it when something dragged on for too long when one could get so many other things done. And she wanted to get back to the Lunar Module.
“You like it bitter, eh?” Carter said, flashing the uneven smile again. Simms chortled alongside him, lightly elbowing him. He flicked her shoulder with a chuckle. Eisele only nodded before going back to her book. “Um, I’ll get that started for you.” And Carter went off with Simms.
But then Eisele heard Simms whisper (quite loudly, almost like she was incapable of whispering), “Is it just me or is Eisele a bit of a cold-hearted bessie?”
Carter only sighed and said, “Simms, be nice, she’s just like that.”
Eisele knew the word well enough. She made sure to study different phrases from the other crew member’s countries so she wouldn’t be behind on what they were saying. A rude or bad-tempered woman. She didn’t know why Simms would refer to her like that. It wasn’t her fault that she wanted to read. Maybe she was rude. She didn’t mean to.
I kept my voice level and I didn’t say anything bad, she thought. Though that was her parent’s advice, which soured it a little. Did Simms see her as… Did Carter… Did everyone?
The question infiltrated her head: Am I a bad person?
****
Later that day…
To be frank, Eisele wanted connection, that much was simple. A hand to hold, someone to eagerly talk to about meaningless things even if that bugged her, a friend. Helena was back on Earth, and on the Cassiopeia, she was alone. She supposed that she had Stafford, who she was standing with in Bridge Ops. But Stafford was more of a fellow worker if anything, being the Commander and all.
They were looking over the orbital chart around Tau Ceti f, and Young was nearby, gearing up to take over Mitchell’s shift in the pilot’s seat. Eisele found Young to be an extraordinary pilot, one of the best they could’ve gotten for the Cetus Mission, she wasn’t as reckless as Mitchell and she was able to not just fly, but soar. It was admirable, and Eisele made sure to let Young know with each chance she got.
Before Young went up to the cockpit, she said, “Hope that I break a leg!” A cheery grin spread across her face.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t, Young.” Eisele said, “You’re the best pilot we got and we can’t risk any complications to the mission.”
Young shot a finger-gun at her and went off on her way. Stafford sighed in an airy, nonserious kind of way. That way, Eisele knew that he wasn’t disappointed, only laughing about something on the inside. She wondered what it was. Eisele didn’t have time to think about it, since Stafford turned off the charting hologram.
“Why did you do that?” Eisele asked.
“We’re good on the data, Young knows what to do.” He produced a warm smile, adding wrinkles to his already aging face.
“I still would’ve liked to analyze our orbital of Tau Ceti f.” Though she wouldn’t mind it being off for a moment. Only for a moment.
Stafford stood in his usual stance, one hand holding his abdomen while the other was pressed against his back, it made him seem wise, which was probably the intended effect. He tilted his head, as if analyzing Eisele like she was the chart itself. She didn’t like the eye contact, it felt like a knife. So, she looked back at the empty table where the hologram once visualized from.
“Think of it as a break. Some time to pass.” He said. “Do you miss anything about Earth?”
She thought about it. Besides Helena (who she was intent on keeping to herself), there was nothing else. And she said so.
After a pause, he told her, “That’s a shame.” Stafford finally stopped looking at her and off to the mechanical prowess in the ship’s design. “I miss fishing. I was damn good at it. When me and Bill would go to the sea in our youth, I was able to catch these huge mackerels—”
“I’m not that much of a sea person. I personally find it gross.” Eisele interrupted. Though, she didn’t mean to. Why did she do that?
“My apologies then, Eisele.” He then turned to leave, wincing before taking his hat off and rubbing his bald head. “I’m going to talk to Cooper about this migraine I’m having.”
“Then we’ll reconvene later, I assume?” Eisele asked too quickly.
“Of course.” He said. Before he left, he studied her appearance before saying, “And Eisele? It wouldn’t hurt to open up a little. I can tell.”
And with that, he left. And Eisele was left to her own thoughts. And they usually weren’t the best things to be alone with. The thoughts that were moving through her head consisted of the following:
You probably gave Stafford that migraine with how weak and annoying you are.
Why couldn’t you just shut up?
Stafford isn’t mad. He’s disappointed.
That last one hurt most of all. It reminded her of her parents. Even though he was disappointed, Eisele still wanted to talk with him. To solve this, she decided to draw another ship to cool down her thoughts.
****
The next day…
Mitchell was a fool, but a competent one. That was Eisele’s view of him. Some may call it rude, but anyone who paid a minute of attention to the co-pilot would be able to see it too. A loudmouth who did everything he wanted to do, even if it ended up with him in the Medical area getting treated by Dr. Cooper.
That was exactly what was happening.
During a break for the two pilots, they played basketball in the recreational area, and Mitchell got nailed in the head—accidentally—by Young because he was too busy flexing instead of actually playing the game. Eisele had witnessed it all. She had to bring him to Medical because Young was called back to monitor the ship.
“Well,” Cooper started, her sculpted arms—which made sense given her experience as a Marine. Though Eisele couldn’t help but stare—held Mitchell’s face as he held up an icepack. “Like I said, it should be fine. Just keep the ice on top, okay hot-shot?”
“You got it, Doc!” Mitchell said. “Gotta keep these guns holstered next time I play.” Laughter rang out of him like an annoying rotary phone. Eisele found the noise a bit irksome, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle as the Senior Mission Officer. He then looked to Eisele, “Thank you, Queen Eisele, for rescuing me from death.” She rolled her eyes, but in a more literal way. It was how she thought one was supposed to do it. But it produced a weird look from Mitchell.
Eisele said, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me Queen. And if you want to address me through formal terms, then use Senior Mission Officer.” Mitchell only snickered before going off into his own world inside his head.
Cooper then nudged her, asking, “So, how’s it going?”
“Satisfactory at the moment.” Eisele wasn’t looking into Cooper’s eyes, she was looking at her nose instead, which she found infinitely more doable.
“Okay…” Cooper paused, fixing Mitchell’s placement of his icepack. “You getting any messages from anyone on Earth, maybe a certain friend…”
Eisele instantly knew who she was implying. “I haven’t gotten any messages.”
"Mhm.” Cooper said with a sly grin growing by the second.
Eisele continued, “I’m being serious. She only gave me the poetry book.”
“Yep.” Cooper was full-on smiling now, popping the “p”, which made Eisele scoff.
"Will he be fine for his shift?” Eisele asked.
Cooper returned to professional mode and answered, “Yes, he should be good.” Eisele expected her to throw in another witticism, but Cooper seemed to give up on joking with Eisele. Though to be fair, Eisele didn’t see any of them as a good joke. Was Cooper mad? She wasn’t being rude again, was she?
Mitchell then butted in, mockingly saying, “She’s being serious, Coop! She’ll yell at you otherwise like she did to me!” He looked at Eisele, as if he wanted her to laugh with him. She only stared at him like he was the Boogey Man. The joke that led to that was terrible, and it brought them back.
In the present, her parents were flung back into her mind. Her shoulders were bunched and everything about her was stiff. Stiffer than how she usually was. She could’ve punched him, but he was important to the state of the ship, so she refrained.
“Mitchell, what are you even talking about—” Cooper stopped when she was looking at Eisele. “Yo Eisele, you okay?” Mitchell soon stopped his breakdown in laughs. It was almost silent.
Eisele’s breathing had picked up, and she was slowly backing up to the door.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m excellent, I just need to go back and um, design another ship!” She then ran out, barely hearing Cooper call after her and angrily question Mitchell on what he did.
****
A few hours later…
Eisele walked into Hydroponics, needing a rest. She had her poetry book, Songs For the Sunrise by May Oldfield, with her. Her—she would never tell this to Cooper—bestie since eighth grade, Helena, had given it to her as a parting gift. Helena was probably the most important person in Eisele’s life. She could very well assume so, if she took into account her parents and their faults. Helena was there and was always caring to Eisele, maybe to the point of too much, but Eisele always appreciated it. Helena’s hugs were definitely the best, even if Eisele was lacking other people’s hugs for comparison. And she was able to make Eisele’s day better with a single word out of her mouth, at most two: “Hey Eisele!” It was always said in bright, enthusiastic tones, and Eisele could tell that Helena wanted to hang out with her. She didn’t really know why, she wasn’t even that good of a friend, despite how much she really liked Helena. Too cold, too rigid, too much—
She came to Hydroponics to relax. Eisele had to remember that. She hand-combed her short hair to the side.
As she came closer to the nature area of Hydroponics, Eisele came up close to her hawthorn tree from back home. It wasn’t really her hawthorn tree, it was merely a different tree planted into the Hydroponics area as a cutting, growing into one that vaguely resembled her hawthorn. But the sentiment was there. She always loved hawthorns, even the ones that weren’t hers, like the one she was at now. Her favorite pastime, besides designing ships, was reading under her hawthorn, listening to the leaves blow through the wind as she read the works of Shakespeare, Jane Austen, or Virgina Woolf. Her favorites were the oldies.
There wasn’t that much wind in Hydroponics, but the tree was as strong as the one back home. Placing her hand onto the tree’s skin, she could feel its rough bark, almost like that of a pair of callused hands.
“Eisele?” A man from nowhere asked. Eisele gasped loudly as she turned around. But she soon found out that it was only Cernan. With his messily-combed oak hair and an imprinted closed-mouth smile. She immediately straightened up, as if she hadn’t freaked out ever in her 33 years of life.
“Cernan,” Eisele said, clearing her throat and sitting down next to him in front of the hawthorn tree. “I’m assuming you have no tasks to do at the moment. Unless you’re avoiding your work, which would be highly detrimental to the mission and disrespectful to the crew and I.” After the words came out of her mouth, she slightly regretted them. She had wanted to see what he was doing, and she had already accused him of slacking off of work. But Cernan only smiled at her.
“Don’t worry Eisele, everything’s in tip-top shape.” Cernan looked up at the hawthorn. “I’ll assume the same about you?”
Eisele went wide-eyed and told him, “Absolutely not! I am dedicated to this mission and have not strayed from any of my tasks in the slightest! It’s frankly insulting…” She then trailed off when she saw Cernan’s face. Raised eyebrows, flat-lined lips, and completely still. Had she gone too far? He seemed surprised at her answer.
His face quickly shifted to bring out a shining small smile, saying, “I meant that you had nothing to do, like me.”
Oh now look at what you’ve done Eisele, she thought. Involuntarily sucking in the air through her teeth, she avoided Cernan’s brown eyes as her shoulders bunched up. It was confirmed in her head. She was a selfish, terrible, no good person. She was the weak link in the mission, everyone else was better.
“Sorry if I offended you.” She heard him say. Eisele didn’t know what his face looked like. Probably mad at her behavior. Her parents would’ve already shouted at her attitude and tone. Maybe he wasn’t even mad, maybe he was just disappointed, which was even worse. Like how Stafford was when she screamed at Mitchell over his shitty joke when she wouldn’t engage in his silly games (“You worried Daddy Stafford will punish you?”). Even though Stafford later understood and got Mitchell to apologize, it had hurt. That disappointment. Reminded her too much of them. Eisele absolutely didn’t want to see that on Cernan.
But then he asked, “Eisele, is something on your mind?”
It was then that she looked at him. And she saw him. Focused on her, eyes darting over Eisele’s features; it wasn’t anything like Eisele expected.
“I—” She paused, retreating to her mind. He could be worried, he could be trusted. The question had been wrecking her head throughout the past few days. The possibility of him mocking or dismissing her was unlikely, given what she knew of Cernan. At worst, he would regale her with a philosophical elegy that was reminiscent of a teenager doing Shakespeare and would help with nothing. But even then, that was rare with Cernan. So, she answered, “Yeah, Cernan. I do. I want to ask you something and I need you to respond with the utmost honesty.”
“Well, honesty is indeed the best policy, isn’t it?” Cernan smiled with a light chuckle ringing out of him.
Ignoring him, Eisele asked, “Do you think I’m too cold-hearted? I’m concerned that you and the crew are misunderstanding my actions.” She waited for his answer, but when she turned to face him, he gestured for her to go on. Eisele supposed that she could, it would provide more detail, and therefore, a clearer answer from Cernan. She continued, “I’m trying my best—I know that—with all of you. It just happens to be that I believe that all of you secretly don’t like me because I’m doing it wrong, somehow, by being like this. Simms seems to think so. Mitchell thinks so too.
“I’m only doing what’s best, I think. And despite how I may act, I do care about all of you, I want us to succeed after all. But I feel like I’m being too indifferent or callous or rude to each of you. Um, I apologize for rambling. Does that make sense?”
Cernan moved his gaze back to the hawthorne, cradling the pendant that hung around his neck. Eisele wondered who gave it to him. Maybe he bought it himself, but something about it made her believe that it came from someone else. All she knew was that someone was Buddhist and so was Cernan. She personally didn’t associate with any particular religion, but she always respected some of the core ideals of some of them.
Her ponderings about Cernan’s pendant wasn’t helping her nerves as she waited, but she kept her composure. Staring at the hawthorne with Cernan soothed her a tiny bit.
After what seemed like forever, Cernan responded. “First off, you should talk to Dr. Cooper about this after. And well, people will always misunderstand other’s intentions, it’s a normal human flaw, same with being more emotionally guarded. However, I don’t see that with you, Eisele. We all have choices to decide on who we are and what we do throughout our lives, and from what I have witnessed, you are the opposite from cold-hearted, you’re just cold, which is entirely different.
“You said it yourself, you’re trying your best with all of us, even if you struggle or fail sometimes or a lot. No one intentionally rude or narcissistic—like how you’re describing yourself—would do something like that. Nor would they apologize for rambling.” Cernan huffed out a laugh. He placed his hand onto her shoulder. “If my love Mikael taught me anything, it’s that people are deeper than how they might seem on the surface. With you, you may have a cold face, but your eyes are warm. And you are not a bad person, Eisele.”
Eisele felt like tearing up. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “No wonder the crew goes on and on about these wonderful Cernan-isms.” She broke out into a small smile. “Thank you, Cernan, that means a lot.”
He shook his head with a matching hand that waved. Cernan then bellowed out in his theatrical shtick, “No bother. And who knows? Maybe I’ll write down some of this stuff!” He guffawed, creating echoes in Hydroponics. Tears strolled down the avenues of Eisele’s face. That and a smile.
You’re not a bad person. The words simmered in her mind, reminding her of Helena’s hugs. An all-encompassing blanket warming her in the cold night. A cold face but warm eyes.