ataraxionlogs | open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

What makes you think I haven’t mastered it?

[ She sounds amused more than indignant—but, truth be told, she’s gotten pretty good. Since Graham died. ]

Fair point. That was wishful thinking on my part. All I ask is that you be merciful with the gloating you might earn the right to do should you be victorious.

[ He's played this game quite a few times, though, so he's feeling pretty darn confident. It doesn't matter to him who really wins, though, the point is just having fun with her. ]

[ She raises her hands to pull her hair out of the ponytail it’s in, letting it flop down against her back now that the towel has soaked up some of her sweat. Fluffing it out, she gives him a nod. ]

I’ll try to restrain myself, but no promises.

Your consideration is appreciated, of course.

[ He's worked up quite the sweat, and his shirt is still just slightly snug, so he fans it out a bit as they walk. ]

Have you been well, lately?

[ Once Emma opens her mouth to answer, she finds herself floundering slightly. A moment’s hesitation later, she grimaces. ]

Big question.

[ After a beat, ] Sickness is gone, though.

I'm glad to hear it. [ He's not surprised by that answer, though, and doesn't expect her to open up fully to him, of all people. He feels they're at least comfortable with one another these days, though. Or maybe that's just his perception of things. ]

Perhaps the better question to ask is, have you managed to maintain a reasonable grip on sanity lately? I find it quite eludes me some days.

[ He's smirking, though. He's not really going insane, it just feels like it sometimes. ]

I think the only people on this ship who don’t feel crazy are the ones who’ve completely lost it.

[ She shrugs. ]

We’re hurtling through space towards God knows what and barely surviving the trip. I’m not sure sanity’s on the menu. But all that said? Could be worse. Company makes it easier.

[ Surprisingly, she’s managed to form a niche. Being apart from her family, from Storybrooke—it should be harder. It’s grown easy in the recent months, though. Knowing Henry’s safe from Pan. Knowing time is frozen, or at least can be folded to replace her from whence she came. Knowing that she can trust at least some of the people aboard this ship (and occasionally, that ‘some’ includes Robin). ]

Speaking of company ... you talked to a lot of the people in Medical?

Indeed, and I've found I quite enjoy your company. Among others, of course.

[ He has no qualms being forthright about that kind of thing. ]

I haven't spoken with many of them myself, have you?

A few.

[ Damn. She looks vaguely disappointed that he hasn’t spoken with more people from medical, but she’s not about to push to explain why when it’s not going to get her anywhere. Hell, even if he could tell her more about Caprica, she probably wouldn’t explain why she’s asking.

She’s not even admitting to herself why she’s poking around. ]

I’m not big on hospitals. Med Bay’s an in-and-out thing for me. [ She shakes her head, dismissing it. ] Forget it.

[ He can't forcibly extract the truth from her, but he can prod just a bit further. He knows his boundaries, when he's stepped too far, and he'll back off if need be, but he's also never been afraid to push when he thinks someone might really need it. ]

Forgive the assumption on my part, but I can't help but think something's troubling you.

We don't need to talk about it, of course, or we don't need to speak of it now if you'd prefer to wait until we've got a few drinks in us.

Nah. I mean—It’s nothing important.

[ She raises a hand to wave it off, then tries to slip her hands into her pockets awkwardly. Of course, the gesture becomes more awkward when her gym shorts don’t have pockets, and she simply smooths her hands over her hips. Right. ]

Just not sure what to make of someone I met there during the whole flu thing.

[ Flu seems a delicate euphemism for the disfiguring contagion that the nanites carried into all of them, but Emma sticks with it. ]

[ Fair enough. But, he does cast a sidelong glance in her direction, as though trying to assess if it really isn't at all important.

Maybe taking a different path through the conversation will yield a more productive answer. ]

That was quite distressing, I must say, though not the worst we've seen. Possibly not the worst we're likely to see, either, though I daresay we're perhaps better equipped than some to handle whatever is yet to come.

[ He's optimistic, but that doesn't mean he can't be cautious and realistic alongside that. ]

So there was something a bit odd about this person you met?

Not odd, exactly. It's probably nothing.

[ Quick to back down, Emma holds up a hand to wave it off. Six stuck in her teeth oddly, but not because of anything to do with Caprica herself. Centering her discomfort on the blonde, however, offers her the opportunity to avoid considering Hook, and by extension her feelings for him, as a potential source. ]

I just couldn't get a read on her. Usually I'm pretty good with people.

I'll take you at your word, then.

If anything else should happen to arise with her, do be sure to let me know. As it is, I'd like to meet her myself - two heads could be better than one.

[ Not that he thinks himself any better at reading people, really, but they could compare notes, as it were. ]

Though I think it says something that you couldn't get a read on her at all.

You think so?

[ She gives him a significant look at that: this is one of those moments where she realizes she's still at something of a loss with him. He knows her, or at least, remembers her from home. She only has the ship and his word to go by. For all she knows, he could be the next Peter Pan.

And yet here she is trusting him. Kate would be proud. ]

[ ~~Or maybe Peter Pan's dad.~~ His responding look in her direction is earnest, and there's a softness to his eyes as he smiles at her. He doesn't doubt her for a moment, and though he's aware that trust from her is not easily given and earned, he doesn't mind at all. They have a rapport, this just works between them, somehow. ]

I do, indeed, Emma.

I think by now I should make it explicitly clear that I have your back, whatever the circumstances may be.

[ Emma glances over at him, resolve crumbling slightly. Still, she looks genuinely perplexed, unable to completely release her reservations. ]

Why? You hardly know me.

[ For him, it's all rather uncomplicated. His general affability doesn't mean he automatically trusts, or feels close with everyone, but he doesn't have emotional barriers as any sort of hindrance, nor does he see them as completely impervious in other people. ]

Length of time knowing someone isn't a prerequisite for caring about them, from my perspective.

You're a good person, and a good friend.

[ That doesn't mean he personally has to be good friends with her to recognize that she is one, in general. But. It's really as simple as that for him. ]

[ Well. Glad someone thinks so. Emma seems to retain some doubts—not about Robin himself, but in the accuracy of his assessment. Thirty years of being made to feel like she isn't good enough doesn't break easy. As self-esteem goes, Emma's is roughly the worst. ]

If you say so.

[ Her shoulders shrug as she reaches out to hit the button, letting them into the bar. ]

But I doubt it'll come to that anyway. It's not so much that I think she's doing anything wrong, but … I don't know. It's probably nothing.

[ He follows her into the bar, contemplating her noncommittal response; he'll have to work on her slowly. Even if it takes quite a long time for her to believe good things about herself, that won't stop him from offering praise and encouragement when possible, and when it makes sense to. ]

I suppose it's the sort of situation where we'll have to wait and see, as they say.

Do let me know if I can be of any help, of course, or if anything should come of it.

I will.

[ Strangely, she seems fairly honest about that. Emma usually struggles with asking for help, but she definitely takes his offer seriously and files it away with a nod. Allowing herself a faint smile, she turns to him as she navigates her way behind the bar to grab a bottle of unidentifiable space booze and two glasses. Setting the glasses on the counter, she sets about opening the bottle, eyes on him. ]

You know, if you really want to help, you can tell me what's happened to our land since my people go back from Neverland. [ 'Our land.' As if she's finally accepting that the Enchanted Forest may have some place for her. Quite the opposite, but it should warm him up to her if she creates that bond. Mostly, she finally has reason to want to know how far ahead he is and how much he knows about what's happened. ]

[ He hasn't had all that much experience with unmatched and shifting timelines until just recently, but he's cognizant of the fact that he needs to tread carefully with what he tells her. Although if it's true that none of them remember anything when they go back, perhaps it doesn't all that much matter.

Leaning up against the counter, resting his forearm atop it, he lets a few moments of silence pass while he considers what to say. ]

As I'm sure you know, Regina's curse left most of the Enchanted Forest in ruin. That's not to say the damage is irreparable, by any means at all. And we have made progress, it simply takes time. For quite a while, my men and I were taking refuge in the Dark One's castle, primarily for my son's safety.

[ But she wants to know about everything after Neverland, so: ]

When your family arrived, Snow White's castle was reclaimed, and it became a...base of operations, you might say, while we dealt with a bit of trouble. But we all made significant progress rebuilding things, the land is quite hospitable now. Or, it was...before we were taken back to Storybrooke.

[ He pauses, just to...give her time to digest what he's said. ]

So we were all cursed to go back to the forest, and cursed again?

[ Her nose crinkles as she begins to pour the drink.

Then something Regina said to her, lost amidst her grief over Graham's reappearance, fills in the blanks. Slowly, she tilts the bottle back upright, eyes going out of focus as they stop taking in the glass before her. Something that Regina said about Henry—about the fact that Emma was the only one who could stay with him.

Hook's surprise and relief at the jump.

It all starts to fall into place. ]

I wasn't there.

[ She looks up at him steadily. ]

I didn't go back with them, did I? [ She sets the glass and bottle down on the bar in front of her, resting her hands against the edge and leaning forward. Her tone grows sharp, demanding and deflective all at once. ] How long? Who else was with them?

[ There's no chance at all of evading the questions now, and it's not as though it's entirely unexpected. He likes to think he knows Emma decently well by now, and so how could she not want to press him for more answers upon hearing what he had to say; it's completely understandable. ]

Unfortunately not.

[ But maybe there's a chance to make this better... ]

The separation lasted roughly a year, and it was...well, everyone from Storybrooke, everyone who was brought over the first time with Regina's curse ended up back in the Enchanted Forest. But you've all found your way back to one another, things are alright, I promise.

[ Well. They will be, he's sure. There's still the matter of the wicked witch. ]

A year.

[ The timestamp feels bitter on her tongue, and it comes out tired. She grabs one of the empty glasses off the bar in front of her, turns, and hurls it into the wall.

It doesn't make her feel any better about being lied to. About being made a fool of. About—She raises one hand to push short layers of blonde hair out of her face, pacing a bit, drawing a breath, regaining her composure. Looking up at Robin, she looks—well, vaguely flustered.

With nothing to say to excuse herself or justify her reaction—at least, nothing she wants to get into—she reaches out for the bottle and pulls generously into the glasses that remain before her, sliding one up onto the bar for Robin after she sets the bottle aside. An apology, of sorts. One that's ready to put all of this behind them. ]

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