[ He jokes about it, but - yeah, that's exactly what he means. Even if it's one person at a time, he'll change the world just a little bit before he goes.
Her next comment... isn't what he expected, and a faint hint of surprise sparks over the link. ]
(I didn't think you liked your first name all that much.)
(Ha. Next you'll be telling me that using my first name would be a breach of respect. You wanna hear a secret?)
[Of course you do. It's a secrets kind of day.]
(I made it up. Jane Doe, right there on my file. I am the proverbial undocumented child, no DNA profile on record, wasn't even registered as a biotic risk until I was seventeen, believe it or not.) [She laughs. She genuinely thinks that's funny-- all this oversight, right down to the biometrics, and they still miss whole people. Lots of people. fat lot of good all that careful math has been.] (But I've been Jane Shepard for more than half my life, Sam. Sometimes I wonder why I bothered filling out the damn name form, if nobody was ever gonna use it)
(Never have been all that great with authority figures. Sides, you should be glad I'm not calling you Tic-Tac.)
[ Of course he wants to know a secret - especially if it's about her. It's not quite one he was expecting, but at the same time, nah, he's not surprised at all. It fits her, all of it.
Even if half of that only makes sense because he's lived enough in her head to know a little of how her world functions. ]
(Bureaucracy at its finest, that's why.) [ They may not physically be any where near each other - but he's forgotten all about that, honestly, and there's the sensation of his hand curled around hers, absent. ] (Jane it is.)
(I keep telling you, you come work for me, it's all maverick moves and no red tape. Leave all that U-S-A crap behind.)
[Tic-Tac? Ew. But lucky or not, maybe the reason he'd refrained is because he knew, in some weird osmotic way, about the short life and ill fate of "Lola"]
(No pressure.) [Metaphorically, at least. Shepard doesn't know how to-- to press, hand in hand, like this. She's never been about a gentle grip. But just the feeling of it, the sentiment, is almost enough to quell her.] (It's just... You know. Right?)
[Where did Falcon end and Sam Wilson begin? Where did Jane exist in the shadow of Commander Shepard? You can't be on-duty all the time.]
[ He loves country a little too much though - although honestly, it's not like he's planning to go back to his world, either. These days he's more and more skeptical that they'll get back any time soon, but that's... that's a conversation for another time.
Now he can feel her hand in his, and there's a soft exhale, a moment where things almost slip as his focus turns inward, as he lets the world narrow down to just their connection. Until their mental connection might as well be physical, until he can feel everything just as real, until they might as well be standing right next to each other - it's not something he's done all that much, but it's... it's Shepard.
It's Jane. It's the side of her that he wonders how many people get to see, more than the shared death experiences and the bleeding echoes of a long dead civilization, more than the vulnerability and grief and love and trust -
It's her. ]
(Yeah. Yeah, I know.) [ He's better able to balance the Falcon and Sam than some people he's known - but he knows just how damn important it is to be able to put down the mantle sometimes, to have someone who can just see you as the person you are.
He doesn't know how to say how much it means to him, that she trusts him with that. How badly he wants to be able to be that for her. So instead he pulls her in, a sensation like wings wrapping around them both, forehead resting against hers. ] (I don't mind a little pressure.)
[That's so like him. And that's the first thing she thinks, with nothing more than a roll of the eyes and an unwilling smile. For once, that lingering feeling of doubt, like a noose around her neck, doesn't exert itself. She opens her mouth, and the truth falls out.]
(Sam, I--)
[The truth almost falls out.
Instead, she hesitates, and the part of her that's always running calculations, always doing that brutal calculus snaps an inequity at her that is more than fair. She considers it, the whole of the two of them, with relationships spiraling out around them, momentarily visible like spider-web connections, linked by the Symbiote.
The Nest thinks it's trapped them.
But Shepard knows better; Sam would have become one of hers even without a chain to yank, not that she's been tempted. He was too dedicated, too skilled, too much like and unalike her in all the ways she's never been unable to recognize. Sometimes, you find your family, and sometimes it finds you. And with Thane, she had never been as honest as she should have. Caution and fear had made her waste what little time they had; a regret she'll never be able to kill, a wound that will never die. Never again.
Commander Shepard makes a decision. Jane is the one who carries it out.]
[ Sam was always hers. The symbiote may give them the tools to be closer, to have the kind of connection they have, to understand each other better than anything - but he chose to use it with her. He chose her, just as she chose him.
Just as he chose the Avengers, just as he chose every one of those relationships spiraling out from him, from them both. And they mean more to him than anything else in this place, than this whole mission - than damn near any mission.
The thing is that she doesn't have to say it. He knows, or at least a part of him knows, the part of him that's hers - the part of him that's her -
But she says it anyway, lets herself be honest, take the leap, and Sam pulls in a breath and lets it out, wings curling tighter.
There's no hesitation in his reply. ]
(I love you too.) [ He doesn't know what it means for them. He doesn't know what it means for the Nest, for their future, for if they go home or if they stay, for their broods and nestmates and the tangled web of relationships that have no definition, or at least not one that Sam had before he came here.
But he's loved her since their second or third meeting, and he's known since the day he saw her clone die. They're family, and he is hers the same way she is, and even if it changes nothing to admit it, it feels good.
To put words to the feeling that echoes through the Nest, to the love that'll be there long after both of them are gone. ]
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sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
no subject
[ He jokes about it, but - yeah, that's exactly what he means. Even if it's one person at a time, he'll change the world just a little bit before he goes.
Her next comment... isn't what he expected, and a faint hint of surprise sparks over the link. ]
( I didn't think you liked your first name all that much. )
no subject
[Of course you do. It's a secrets kind of day.]
( I made it up. Jane Doe, right there on my file. I am the proverbial undocumented child, no DNA profile on record, wasn't even registered as a biotic risk until I was seventeen, believe it or not. ) [She laughs. She genuinely thinks that's funny-- all this oversight, right down to the biometrics, and they still miss whole people. Lots of people. fat lot of good all that careful math has been.] ( But I've been Jane Shepard for more than half my life, Sam. Sometimes I wonder why I bothered filling out the damn name form, if nobody was ever gonna use it )
no subject
[ Of course he wants to know a secret - especially if it's about her. It's not quite one he was expecting, but at the same time, nah, he's not surprised at all. It fits her, all of it.
Even if half of that only makes sense because he's lived enough in her head to know a little of how her world functions. ]
( Bureaucracy at its finest, that's why. ) [ They may not physically be any where near each other - but he's forgotten all about that, honestly, and there's the sensation of his hand curled around hers, absent. ] ( Jane it is. )
no subject
[Tic-Tac? Ew. But lucky or not, maybe the reason he'd refrained is because he knew, in some weird osmotic way, about the short life and ill fate of "Lola"]
( No pressure. ) [Metaphorically, at least. Shepard doesn't know how to-- to press, hand in hand, like this. She's never been about a gentle grip. But just the feeling of it, the sentiment, is almost enough to quell her.] ( It's just... You know. Right? )
[Where did Falcon end and Sam Wilson begin? Where did Jane exist in the shadow of Commander Shepard? You can't be on-duty all the time.]
i may have made this icon just for this tag
[ He loves country a little too much though - although honestly, it's not like he's planning to go back to his world, either. These days he's more and more skeptical that they'll get back any time soon, but that's... that's a conversation for another time.
Now he can feel her hand in his, and there's a soft exhale, a moment where things almost slip as his focus turns inward, as he lets the world narrow down to just their connection. Until their mental connection might as well be physical, until he can feel everything just as real, until they might as well be standing right next to each other - it's not something he's done all that much, but it's... it's Shepard.
It's Jane. It's the side of her that he wonders how many people get to see, more than the shared death experiences and the bleeding echoes of a long dead civilization, more than the vulnerability and grief and love and trust -
It's her. ]
( Yeah. Yeah, I know. ) [ He's better able to balance the Falcon and Sam than some people he's known - but he knows just how damn important it is to be able to put down the mantle sometimes, to have someone who can just see you as the person you are.
He doesn't know how to say how much it means to him, that she trusts him with that. How badly he wants to be able to be that for her. So instead he pulls her in, a sensation like wings wrapping around them both, forehead resting against hers. ] ( I don't mind a little pressure. )
no subject
( Sam, I-- )
[The truth almost falls out.
Instead, she hesitates, and the part of her that's always running calculations, always doing that brutal calculus snaps an inequity at her that is more than fair. She considers it, the whole of the two of them, with relationships spiraling out around them, momentarily visible like spider-web connections, linked by the Symbiote.
The Nest thinks it's trapped them.
But Shepard knows better; Sam would have become one of hers even without a chain to yank, not that she's been tempted. He was too dedicated, too skilled, too much like and unalike her in all the ways she's never been unable to recognize. Sometimes, you find your family, and sometimes it finds you. And with Thane, she had never been as honest as she should have. Caution and fear had made her waste what little time they had; a regret she'll never be able to kill, a wound that will never die. Never again.
Commander Shepard makes a decision. Jane is the one who carries it out.]
( I love you. )
no subject
Just as he chose the Avengers, just as he chose every one of those relationships spiraling out from him, from them both. And they mean more to him than anything else in this place, than this whole mission - than damn near any mission.
The thing is that she doesn't have to say it. He knows, or at least a part of him knows, the part of him that's hers - the part of him that's her -
But she says it anyway, lets herself be honest, take the leap, and Sam pulls in a breath and lets it out, wings curling tighter.
There's no hesitation in his reply. ]
( I love you too. ) [ He doesn't know what it means for them. He doesn't know what it means for the Nest, for their future, for if they go home or if they stay, for their broods and nestmates and the tangled web of relationships that have no definition, or at least not one that Sam had before he came here.
But he's loved her since their second or third meeting, and he's known since the day he saw her clone die. They're family, and he is hers the same way she is, and even if it changes nothing to admit it, it feels good.
To put words to the feeling that echoes through the Nest, to the love that'll be there long after both of them are gone. ]