ximilian | reach the residents

[ the raise of an eyebrow is the only way in which she betrays her surprise — but her nod is instant, and quietly, she leads him down the corridor, to another door leading into the north wing. it hisses open before them; she steps in, knowing he will follow. the power and life support room is silent as always as she turns to look at him. ]

What is it? [ no beating about the bush: she knows it has to be important, for him to describe it as urgent. ]

（ he lays it all out for her, quick and brusque. their coming to a point in the ximilia's past, the mission that her own crew had been expected to return from. the witnessing of the memories. he advises her, with a bit of a clench to his jaw, to be mindful of what has been shared on the network in the name of pursuing 'truth'. and when he is finished — ）

I do not know if what occurred for us would have become, ah... 'canon' for your past as well. I recognize it may be as you said of the orb on your world.

（ that conversation is never far from his mind. ）

But I left something for you. You would have noticed it, upon your return from Altrusa, should things have continued on linearly.

（ a dog-eared page, in a book they have shared. viveca's mind is too sharp to have missed such a thing, though it is possible she would have dismissed it then as something done by another of her crewmates. there was a line on the page, though we have met, we may never meet. though we love, we may never love — though we will die, we may never die, that he had found particularly apt.

his concern, primarily, is that if their recent present is her distant past, did they have a hand in olivia's corruption? he scarce wants to suggest it aloud. viveca still knows the orbs better than he, and if the possibility exists she will come to the conclusion herself. ）

[ she listens in silence, as she so often before has — the many blue lights around the room cast an unhealthy shadow on her skin, while the one red light above
one of the pods lining the room alights her hair. her concern is betrayed only by the furrow between her brows; a hard look in her eyes the only indication of her anger at the orb and its doings.

in the end, when he speaks of the book, she finally sighs. ]

Yes, I remember it. Many things were different in the chaos of it all... so I didn't think much of it. [ a faint smile. ] Clearly I should have.

But I don't think you're quite right with the linearity of it all. From what you say, Olivia was waiting for us to come back, but the station was already in disrepair? [ hm. ] That only happened after the explosion when the Orb broke again. You must have inhabited some pocket of time that was both before and after us. The orb certainly wasn't there — here — when we were.

[ another temporality paradox; nothing new, that. ]

（ he carries the conviction that she will have a better grasp on the whims and nuance of the temporality itself than he does, and will trust in her assessment besides. he is silent for a moment, considering that.

he misses gwen, suddenly, with a fierceness that seems to steal away his breath. and she is only gone, not —

his attention focuses on some errant mechanical piece along one wall, and then lift back to viveca after a moment's long contemplation. then: ）

It did seem unusual.

（ 'damn, bitch, you live like this?' but he had not known what state the station was in during their tenure, how they kept it, what they did. it did not feel lived in, but two months away could have been the catalyst for that. would olivia have cared for the creature comforts of the crew the way viveca does now? that is difficult to say. there is still much they do not know of the past — and memories can only betray so much.

he studies her. the halo of light in her hair, the exactness of her expression and how much he can only imagine it hides. is she grateful for the body, or does she feel trapped by it, given its provenance? like him, she is not like to be squeamish about something so long as it serves its function. her father's recreation of her body. his father's eyes.

like him, she made the choice he would have made. if it had been wei wuxian —

his expression softens, and he reaches out to her. pulls her into a hug. not the first he has given her, but this one is gentler. the cant of his head against the halo of her hair, the way his arms encircle her. perhaps she will recognize it as protective, or perhaps it has been so long since anyone has needed to protect her that it will feel alien now.

there are a thousand things he could ask her. about emerton, about the orbs. about the future, or the past. but she is more to him than all the queries he could lay at her feet, and he... is done with knowing things, just for knowing's sake. he trusts her. he will continue to trust her — that she will tell him what is necessary, when it is necessary to do so.

instead: ）

Viveca. I am sorry I did not take your word about Degar. It... has taken me long enough that it is shameful to me, to see who he truly is.

Edited 2023-06-19 14:31 (UTC)

[ her body doesn't feel tiredness the same way her human body did, and yet, she sinks into the hug as if exhausted, exhales deeply out of habit rather than need as her hands hold onto his shoulders. she's grateful for him — the quiet, steady friendship they have, now, just like his silence. she doesn't mind fielding questions for the crew, not when it's one burden she can shoulder for degar... but being treated like a person instead of a machine is a rare comfort.

she'll never stop being grateful for the few people who see her as something more than simply the station's manager.

as she pulls back, her smile is soft. ]

It's okay. It took me a while to see it, too. I know he can seem like he takes nothing seriously, but for the things that matter... there's no one who has a better heart, or more courage. [ she laughs. ] I told him once that I hated how no one knew what he'd done. That everyone would keep dismissing him when he gave up everything just to save people who'd never even know it. [ a shake of her head. ] I didn't really mean for people to find out this way, though.

[ but it's not surprising to her, either, that the orbs weren't quite so done with them as it seemed. ]

Yes, your mutual preference not to divulge your pain has not gone unnoticed, Viveca.

（ it's said with a bit of dry amusement, the sort of gallows' humour she will understand. he has always recognized a quality in viveca that spoke to him, but he did not anticipate that degar would be the one whose sacrifice reminded him so much of shisui. something done in the shadows, not out of any desire for recognition or accolades but for love alone. his act would have been consigned namelessly to history just the same, if not for this.

shared grief pulls a weary sigh out of him, but it is a long while before he releases her. when he does, there is a brief moment where he leans down just slightly — one hand at her cheek — and touches his forehead to hers. an expression of intimacy, of understanding, and the deep affection that has put down roots in him. she was the first person aboard the station that, in hindsight, he would have called friend.

and then he straightens up, releasing her. but he lingers within arm's reach, choosing consciously not to claw back his own space like one gaining ground on a battlefield. ）

The Orb seems determined to enact a particular cruelty upon you both, and treat your pain like a playground. Your worlds, your memories, your sacrifices. For what it is worth, as many people as not were determined to safeguard what was shared with them.

（ and those people may find their way to her in time, as he has. trust is built both ways. ）

Do you wish to know what it was I saw?

（ he does not know why it was that particular memory. others witnessed death or pain or death, or moments that to them might seem mundane but were all the more precious for being so, snapshots of the lives come and gone aboard the station. what he saw was loss, and love, and the flickering ember of hope that had refused to burn out, the will of fire given faith and breath. of all the things he could have witnessed, if indeed it was required of him to witness anything at all, that memory had felt like a gift. ）

Edited 2023-06-21 12:58 (UTC)

[ there's a wry part-smile that his words draw out of her, seeing the humour in the statement — isn't it the same for both of them? ]

I doubt it's quite pleased with us, [ she says like it's an explanation; though in the end, it might just be a certain kind of fun it's having, the chaos unleashed by their own decisions. itachi gets another smile as he speaks of the people who didn't treat the memories as pieces of information, though she can hardly blame those who did — once, she might have done the same.

in the end, she gives a hesitant nod. ]

If you want to tell me.

My friend, that is not an answer. That is an evasion.

（ don't make him @ you, viv. ）

I am an open book to you. What knowledge I have is always yours if you wish to take it.

Yes, and that is why I want you to make the decisions on whether you tell me or not, [ she answers with a small huff, arms crossed. she doesn't speak of it, but it hangs in the air regardless: he has spent enough time having his choices taken away from him, and she will not do it, not even for something this small. ]

But if you want to know whether I want to know... yes. I always want to know what you have to tell me.

（ his mouth quirks up at one corner. ）

If we continue like this, we will speak ourselves in circles.

（ each doing their best not to overstep. he wonders when it became such a comfort to speak so to her — and after a long moment his gaze flickers to a point on a far wall. would that she were human and not entombed in a body of her father's building, he would simply show her with genjutsu. failing that, the only avenue is to elucidate directly.

he tells her first of where he found the spark — the resultant conversation he witnessed. he does not offer the specifics of the encounter. she will remember it, no doubt, with aching clarity. when he is finished, his attention flickers briefly back to her face, holding her gaze. ）

Wouldn't be the first time, [ she retorts archly, but grins back at him.

but the smile fades soon enough as she listens to what he tells her — a memory shared, one that lives in her mind, every detail etched there like a scene to be replayed over and over again.

when he is done, she doesn't avert his gaze, like she might do to others; she stares back, not shying away from letting him see the vulnerability in her eyes. ]

... If anyone had to see it, then I'm glad it was you.

( he exhales. it is perhaps not entirely steady. he has no need of her to always be strong, always be sure — but the trust inherent in the gesture is not lost on him. )

And it is an honor to safeguard your secrets, as always.

( it is no simple thing to reach out and pull her into an embrace. not the first, likely not the last — but each memorable and each important. he rests his cheek against her hair, and without releasing her asks — )

What will happen to you both when the Orb is completed?

[ she is still by no means used to the gesture; even before, back home, she was never the hugging sort, and what hugs she did get or give were reserved for her mother and callan — and on the station, mica and laer... and degar, of course. he had been the only one to remain, with her, and back then she'd not had a body to hug anyone with.

now she does, and she folds into the embrace easily, her hands holding onto his shoulders. ]

... I'm not sure, [ she admits quietly, wryly. ] Degar is bound to the station, so if everything goes to plan and we can keep the Orb here, then — he's going to stay and watch over it, and I will stay here with him.

[ if everything goes to plan. there's a chance the orb will end their deals and they'll both die... but if they do, then so be it. if the orb is contained, it'll have been worth it. ]

（ given the station's tenuous placement in time... he does wonder if degar will one day pass away and leave her here, eternal and unchanging in a body not her own. his grip on her tightens just barely, and then he releases her — one hand lingering in a brief clasp of her elbow before it falls away. ）

If I were to remain here with you both — would it require changing my regret as well?

（ anyone else, perhaps, and that would sound flippant. with him it is only measured, deliberate and calm. ）

[ the only thing to betray her surprise is the soft exhale — completely unnecessary, yet so ingrained in the muscle-memory of her brain that she can't help it. her tone as she answers him, taking a step back as she does, is equally calm. ]

I'm not entirely sure of that, either. It might... but it might not. Considering your situation. [ given that there is nowhere for him to return to — the orb might just keep him here, even without a regret change. ]

（ 'your situation' — has anyone ever told viveca she's hilarious, actually? ）

Yes, I imagine being dead would complicate things unnecessarily.

（ couple comedians over here. ）

Even so. I have given this considerable thought. There is nothing for me to return to in my world, and the work you and Degar are doing is important. If it is possible to remain, I would wish to. Even if it means surrendering my regret.

（ he has meddled enough in sasuke's life, has he not? to presume that his assistance is welcome from beyond the grave is only more of the same. his brother lives to at least nineteen. he would be an entirely different man if not shaped by the circumstances itachi wrought for him.

and itachi is — prepared, perhaps, to let that dream go at last. done is done. the only way forward, it seems, is through. ）

I would know, [ she adds, with a tone dryer than a winter's day. ]

If that is what you want... [ slowly, she gives him a small smile — she wouldn't have wanted to influence him in any way, nor would she think she could; and yet, the thought of him remaining with them is one she welcomes easily. ]

I would be happy to have you with us, my friend. Whether it requires a change in your regret... that is something only the orb will know.

（ there is a speculative silence. then: ）

Then I suppose I will ask it, when the time comes.

（ he cants his head to one side, giving her a sidelong glance. that smile gets returned in a flicker of microexpression, but does not quite linger. ）

Are you able to see... （ hm. quite unusual for him, to pause as though he is uncertain of how to phrase something. ） Is he （ no question who 'he' might be in this case — it can only mean sasuke. ） happy? In the future.

I can only see what is happening right now — though, of course, "right now" would be the future for what you remember, as time has kept passing.

[ a pause. ] He's alright. [ happy? no, not necessarily. not yet. another pause. ] It is not your world... but on an alternate timeline, nearly identical to yours... yes. He will be happy. [ and as it is so close to how events have passed, in his world... she believes they will come to pass the same way. ]

I see.

（ he looks at her, and his expression has shifted. he is so guarded with so many, but he has learned, by degrees, to tear down his walls with her. it has been an act of will more than accident. he lets her see him, as he has seen her. ）

Do you think, if things had not gone how they did for you and Degar, that you would have changed your own regret by the end?

[ she hopes there was more she could tell him — but this is all she has to give, to reassure him that his brother will, eventually, be alright. happy. ]

To a different one than the one I did change it to? [ a needless question; all she's doing by speaking is deflecting. tilting her head down, she laughs. ]

Maybe. I know what I'd like to think I'd have done. But... who knows? That's the thing about the past, isn't it? Most of us never get the chance to change it. All we can do is live with the choices we've made.

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