[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
( 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. ]