Work Text:
Eva sits at her desk, drumming her fingers on the wooden surface. She doesn't often allow herself such an obvious restless tell, but she had let herself get caught up in thought.
There is a box in the third drawer down of Eva's desk that holds two more vials of the memory drug. The DGSE had sent her a case of them when she'd asked, just in case she might need the extra.
The question of whether or not she did is one that she is now debating.
Eva looks across at the television screen in one corner of the room. It is currently being used for its intended purpose, and not for one of the many conference calls she'd had to attend with too many participants all demanding her attention to fit on an ordinary computer screen. An international news channel, selected at random, is silently running through the top stories of the day.
As if there could ever be any doubt, "Successful Launch of the Hail Mary!" is the first to be reeled off, and all those that come after it are still tangentially related. Today is a day that the world is going to celebrate, despite the sombre nature of the astronauts' sacrifice that dogs the project.
Even with the world celebrating, Eva can't bring herself to join in. The world might raise a glass to the sacrifice made by those aboard the Hail Mary, but she is the only one who will spare a thought for the sacrifice that she had been forced to make – the many of them that she has made, willingly and knowingly, and all of them in the name of saving as many lives as she can.
Besides, there are so many better things for her to be focusing her attention on, so many more problems to solve and projects to plan. Even if she doesn't join in the celebrations, there's work for her to be doing.
Eva can't pull her attention away from the third drawer down of her desk.
She feets tired. More than tired, she feels sick.
With the project to focus on she had always found a way forwards, not letting anything stop her – certainly not something as meaningless as sickness, or guilt – but now that the ship is on its way, all of her other worries feel distant. Instead of spending her time looking into the next steps that Earth needs to take to prolong its survival, she finds herself wondering why someone else can't take over the planning for now.
Someone else will need to, soon, regardless of whatever strange mood it is that has snuck up on her. The world is going to want answers, people are going to want someone to blame for all of the terrible choices that Eva has made, and Eva is going to be the one waiting for them with the answers that nobody wants to hear.
She stops drumming her fingers, and opens the drawer of her desk. Then she opens the box, takes out one of the vials, and holds it up to the light.
What would happen to her if they found a stranger standing in her place? She'd been warned about the potential permanent effects of the memory drug should she not manage the dosage correctly – and she is certain that she would find it no trouble at all to manage it incorrectly.
She could leave everything behind her. The exhaustion, the choices, the responsibility... everything. After years of stopping for nothing and nobody, focusing everything on one goal, she would finally be free of it all. Looking at it from that angle, it almost seems like a peaceful prospect.
Would the world still judge her as harshly if she couldn't remember anything? Maybe so, but maybe it would soften the blow. Maybe people would think twice before judgement.
She's so tired. She feels sick.
—
"Did you drop something, ma'am?"
Eva doesn't startle at the question, but it does pull her out of thought.
"What do you mean?"
The soldier nods towards the bin. "The glass, ma'am. Is everything okay?"
"Oh," Eva says, and nods. "Yes, of course. I broke something, that is all." She forces a smile. "Thank you for your concern."