As a moon waned to crescent

[cortisone]

CHARACTERS: Nora Sergeant & Josh Levison
LOCATION: His room.
WARNINGS: More fluff than a cotton candy convention.
SUMMARY: Married people are gross, and also space 101.


There aren't any words for the situation she's found herself in. On a spaceship, in an alternate reality- The stuff that Josh's little sci-fi dreams were made of, something she'd have thought was some kind of strange, panic induced hallucination- but was unequivocally real. While she was used to making decisions with a certain pattern (run in head first, keep going, don't look back), even she thought this deserved a little more forethought, a little more planning. The problem was- she had no idea where to go from here. What she should start with. Volunteer in Medbay, maybe, for the sense of something familiar. And Josh-

There aren't any words for the things that have happened to them either. For the fact that he's been here when he was human, that the 'jump' caused him to move forward in time until he was stuck as the wolf, the way she'd left him at home. There aren't any ways to convey the disbelief that an enchanted hoodie, worn out and completely unremarkable in every way, a slowly fading dark red- is the only thing keeping him human, keeping him with her. It's almost enough to wind her with the force of it, the knowledge of just how close she came to losing him, how close she came to doing this without him.

She might still have lost him anyway. Or pieces of him, at least. His room, the sweater- They smell like Josh, but stale. Like he really hasn't been there for long enough for it to truly linger any more. The way his face creases, just around the eyes when he sleeps, not even restful with her- This place, whether they want to think about it now or not, has taken a toll on him. One she's not sure she can reach.

It's why, instead of rolling out of bed and going in search of coffee, of bagels with cream cheese, or whatever passes for a quick and lazy breakfast in space, of going to the medbay and finding out what's needed- She stays right where she is, beneath the blankets. Revels in the warm, heavy weight of his hand on her hip, the way his breathe tickles across her cheek, and let's her eyes roam over his face, taking in every feature until she's sure she could memorize it, recreate it in her minds eye if she had to.

She reaches up and smooths out the creases with the tip of a finger gently, and when it prompts him to finally stir awake, dark brown eyes blinking blearily open before focusing in on her face, she smooths the finger down his cheek and smiles. Completely unrepentant for her creepy, stalker-ish behaviour, her voice is thick with the last hold of sleep and fonder than she wants it to be. It's a whisper, private, even if they're alone. And isn't that a novelty? For once, they're completely alone.

"Hey, doe eyes."

Comments

this is super embarrassing sorry

[growling]

Nora's here. The reaction should be clean, straight-forward: thank fucking god, in so many words. The sense of relief is unquestionable, but it's more like a cord snapping than weight lifting.

He puts off asking what she left behind. When he sees her and can't even manage a hello, just has to grab her and drag her in close, touch and taste and smell — and she returns the favor, needy and thrilled and desperate, that's not a good sign. That means she left something behind that made this reunion worth noting. And that's it, one loaded kiss before he withdraws from the medbay, bringing her back home — to his quarters, anyway — to explain what he can.

She takes it well. As well as anyone can, anyway. The truth is they're both way too distracted by each other to really care about the fact that they're in space, because they're in space. It's such an alien concept at this point that Josh has a hard time putting his heart into it, and there's a fear that she'll notice. He's a bit too wary, a bit too guarded, even now. It should be easier to fall asleep next to her. It isn't. It's terrifying, because he might wake up and—

"Hey."

She's still here. He sounds sleepy, voice rough. It probably matches the slight beard he has going; his grooming habits have slipped, though that's more down to the wolf problem than the space problem. He shifts slightly to better meet her gaze, and there's an unsure pause while he considers the pros of just — staying like this, never talking.

"You knew." It's a gentle observation, but he realizes it could probably use some context a few seconds later. "It's not just the ship, is it? Me getting—" Stuck? It sounds stupid and underwhelming, so he doesn't finish the sentence.

[cortisone]

It's just like Josh to start in with the heavy. It's something realistically that she knows needs to be addressed, that it shouldn't be put off. But talking about it, discussing it in the aftermath of her arrival makes it- Well, real. Makes it more than a stasis pod nightmare. If she tried hard enough, ignored it long enough- She's sure could stop all the puzzle pieces from slotting together, from creating the picture they'd both just left behind- with all the things he's told her.

Nora tips over instead of answering, settles her back on the mattress that isn't theirs and blinks up at the ceiling, like she can count all the cracks in the plaster- but it's metal bulkhead. Cold, unfamiliar, unsettling. Alien. It'd be easier if she didn't have to look at him, but she can't stay turned away for more than a few seconds. It's a blink and you miss sort of mentality. If she doesn't keep constant track of him- Maybe she'll open her eyes to find that this is the nightmare, and she's back in the woods, breath visible in the air in front of her face, and Josh-

She turns her head to the side, slides her eyes over his, the slope of his nose, the unshaven jaw- She wets her lips to buy herself time to think of something to say, anything to wheedle herself out of having to do this right now. The rawness in her voice had fit the desperation of their reunion last night, had blanketed over the cause. Raw from screaming, raw with grief. It's an oddity, grieving for the loss of someone, when she can still feel the warmth of them pressed into her side.

It's barely more audible than a whisper. "It's the last thing I remember."

[growling]

He'd guessed as much, but it's still different hearing her saying it. Not because he hadn't expected this to be a problem he'd dragged here from home. That makes sense. It's the way she can barely say it, clearly doesn't want to, and the fact that it means she's stuck back home with the wolf.

"I'm sorry." It's as quiet as her answer had been, and he doesn't manage to elaborate. Sorry for the mess with Donna, for getting scratched again, for whatever combination of his screw-ups ended in this. He closes his eyes again briefly as he cuts off that train of thought, though there's no pretending he's not on the verge of apologizing again when he meets her gaze a second time.

"It's okay. I'm me, here. That means it's possible. It means we can fix this." It's a bizarre echo of her words to him, back when they were looking for Aidan and Sally, and it's nearly as confident. He brings a hand up to mirror her gesture, too, fingers sliding into the hair beneath her ear as he runs a thumb over her cheek.

"I'm not losing you again."

[cortisone]

"God, Josh-" It's released on an exhale. It wavers in the air between them, and cracks on the syllabels of his name. Her fingers curve around the bones of his wrist and try not to press too hard. Nora needs it to linger, to remember that this feels real, because it is.

"You have nothing to apologize for." What happened to him wasn't his fault. She might have believed the encounter was Aidan's fight, before she'd learned the whole situation, in some ways- she couldn't absolve him of all his involvement, certainly not in killing the only cure Josh had. But circumstances had been beyond even his control. Even if they hadn't, if she dug down deep to the root-

None of this would have happened if it weren't for her. If she hadn't gotten so involved with Connor and Brynn. If she had just told Liam the truth the first time he'd asked her, instead of clawing tooth and nail to survive. If she had never left. (if, if, if)

"What if we can't?" It's more defeat than she wants. But he'd been here for so long and the only avenue he'd found was this stupid sweater. A frail piece of cloth that wasn't going to last. Magic. Magic had never come without some kind of price, some backlash that wounded far deeper than the original problem they meant to solve. She expected this to be much the same. The sweater and curing Josh both.

She presses her mouth together, inhales sharply through her nose and forces a smile, eyes watering slightly. This wasn't the new start to their lives that she'd been envisioning that day in her pretty white dress. "You haven't. You're right, I'm sorry. Of course we'll fix this. We won't stop looking until we get you back."

i'm genuinely disgusted rn we should've rped the sex instead

[growling]

He doesn't get a chance to inject some positivity into before she does it herself, though the truth is he probably couldn't if he tried. She's smart, and she's never been one for the defeatist attitude — it's never really been his job to drag her back from that. With Erin, maybe, but that's an obvious and glaring exception to the rule.

Josh doesn't even bother keeping on with the topic. He's got his confirmation and there's nothing they can do about it here, anyway; this stupid hoodie is as good as it gets. Instead he opts for running his hand back through her hair gently before repeating the gesture, and it's just as much an excuse to take in the fact that she's solid as it's meant to comfort.

"Hey, we've got bigger fish to fry." Which is a really dumb thing to say, he's aware. He offers a slight smile, somewhere between smug and clearly self-deprecating in the face of his own crappy jokes. "Space, right? Bet you're glad you married a nerd now."

It's that usual combination of completely self-assured and self-aware bad jokes; it doesn't really fit the tone of the conversation, but that's the point. She's here. He can focus on that now and worry about the rest later.

it's not too late! pants off, let's go

[cortisone]

"Are you saying there's fish in space? No lame packaged cuisine or futuristic pills for sustenance?" It is dumb, and he gets the according reaction, with a soft laugh that doesn't sound quite right in the commentary that follows. But it's close.

She can do this. She can put aside the heavy questions, like she'd originally wanted to, can let them rest even though now that they're out there, she wants to tackle them all at once. Starting slow is good. They're together, properly together and they can start with the easy, can build up to all the things she needs to know. If she can't leave- Well, she's going to make sure they have all the time in the world for the rest of it.

Nora slides in closer, hooks her knee over his thigh beneath the blankets and lets her grip on his wrist ease, follows down the line of his arm to his elbow, brushes past it up to his shoulder and settles there. Makes sure they're connected at every possible point. "If I had known I'd end up in space, I would have held out for an engineer. I'm not sure your knowledge of inter-galactic warfare is going to help if this tin can stops having a life support system."

She's smiling, genuinely- and look at that knowledge by proxy. Spaceships have life support systems she's got this in the bag, and leans forward to press her mouth to his, brief and as full of affection as she can make it. Space or not, terrible future waiting for them at home or not, she is glad she married the man before her. Nothing could possibly change that.