[ in the space of a breath miles drops to the couch next to her to put an arm around her shoulders -- she's not quite so tall that he can't reach, his hand curled over her shoulder. he watches her face, feeling the bottom drop of out his stomach in the worst possible way. some part of this feels cruel, but he's glad as hell he decided to do it like this. as clean as he can make it. ]
Lara -- [ he's not going to say it's okay, because that's not really his call. instead he just sits there for a second with his arm around her shoulders, biting his lips together. ] He'll come back, Lara. Like me and Chara and Eggsy did.
[ but resurgence always has a price. miles isn't sure he ever did get around explaining how it works to lara, since chara's death. he knows it doesn't make it any easier to bear, knowing that sans will come back -- it sure as hell isn't doing much for him now -- but she ought to know. ]
[ She leans into him the instant she feels his arm around her shoulders. She didn't have this before, only Sam in the brief moments of calm on Yamatai. She thinks, distantly, that she ought to say something else. That she understands, that she's sorry about falling apart on him like this, she doesn't mean to.
The words don't come, but at least she's not sobbing, just noiseless tears running down her cheeks.
Skeleton got your tongue, kiddo? Sans voice is casual in her mind, a parody of warmth. It's odd there's no blood pooling on the floor, but the canon, electric blue and bright, had felt more like electricity, had left a burn. So maybe it was right that she couldn't find the blood, even if she can't stop picturing it, shining in the light of Miles' office and seeping into the floor (patch-worked from the sunlight through leaves, roots a tangled knot and small white flowers that feel wrong and out of place), staining pink slippers that don't exist.
She feels vaguely sick, doesn't want to throw up on Miles, but reluctant to pull away. He, at least, is real. ]
Right. All right. [ She stares at the blood on the floor she knows doesn't exist and tries to even out her breath. ]
[ miles draws in a breath as lara leans against him, shutting his eyes and just letting her ride it out. he can't really do anything except be here and be solid, so he does the best damn job he can, evening out his breath to try and anchor lara's. whatever burst of panic is welling up in his chest, he can put that on hold for now. later. he'll deal with it later.
it's different every time, but there are always common elements, and he recognizes the tinge of incipient nausea on her face and reaches out with his leg to nudge the nearby wastebin toward the couch, between their feet. he doesn't let go of lara, gently squeezing her shoulder. ]
Take a minute. It's alright.
[ the words are a quiet, cracked murmur. he didn't call her over to talk just to banish her at the first sign of despair. this is what he called her to do. ]
retroactively slaps the tw: blood warning on there i guess.
[ Her hand reaches out to him, gripping the fabric of his uniform jacket. She feels the wastebin bump against her foot and wonders absently how he managed to move it over to them without it falling over the roots.
That are moving. A bloody hand pushing it's way through the tangle of grass and metal. The face grins up at her is a familiar on, less skeletal then the first.
Aw gee, Lara. Didn't know you'd throw me over so quick.
Alex... Not possible. ]
You're dead. You died. [ Her voice is soft, directed at the two bloodsoaked bodies in front of her.
Yeah, tibia honest, it's a real pain. Sans smiles and smiles and smiles, blood dripping from dark eye sockets. He nods at Miles, Can you believe this guy tho? What a sap! He's got no idea the level of crazy he's angling to stick his dick in! Anger rips through her, sharp and hot. This isn't real, she knows this isn't real. She reaches for the bin, pulling herself away from Miles.
The wastebin thumps off the wall with a loud wham! The room is quiet, just the sound of her heart in her head. The room is itself and she find she can't bring herself to look at Miles. ]
[ lara's hand is fisted in his jacket, but miles knows it isn't him she's talking to. he leans with the tug on his jacket, but he lets her go when she pulls away, his arm loosing from her shoulders, unwilling to hold her in place if she wants to go.
for half a second he thinks she's going to vomit, but then she hurls the wastebin at the wall, and miles nearly flinches, little more than a reflexive twitch of his shoulders. this is a little farther out of the realm of not okay he was expecting, but given everything he knows about lara -- and everything he's pieced together from reading between the lines -- he shouldn't be surprised.
miles swallows the urge to break the silence with a tasteless response like and yet, here i am and instead draws in a shallow breath and holds it. he plants his hand on the couch just behind lara, neither touching nor pulling away. he can't imagine how different the her circumstances are from his, but he knows that look, that tension. the look of someone who was miles and years away from here just two seconds ago. his voice comes out a gentle murmur. ]
Lara.
[ he falters after her name, realizing he's got no followup and fumbling desperately for something to say, something useful to say. what is he supposed to say? what would he want someone to say, when all he can see is murka's head, sergeant beatrice's rapidly disappearing form? ]
Wherever you were just now, you're still here. [ he catches a breath. ] With me. It's alright.
[ She lets out a slow breath. The incredible tension doesn't leave her. It may, in truth, be the only thing keeping her on her feet, hands curled in fists at her side and feet planted like she's waiting for a hit that isn't coming. ]
I'm sorry. [ Distantly she thinks she would find it unnerving how steady her own voice is, after a display like that. Another breath and she forces herself to turn and look at him. ] I shouldn't have thrown your wastebin.
Don't be. [ the corner of his mouth quirks just slightly. ] Better it than me.
[ miles is hoping to inject just enough levity to release some of that tension, and he holds her gaze with one he hopes conveys concern and sympathy and support and acknowledgment all at once. he hoverrs a moment before he puts a hand on lara's arm. he's tense, too, half-holding his breath in case something else breaks. ]
There's nothing to apologize for, anyway, so you're in the clear. It's alright, Lara.
[ She frowns at his joke. That she might have hurt him during her hallucination... Easily one of her worst fears realized. She knew Yamatai had left more than just scars behind, but--
Her other hand reaches up to cover his on her arm, the touch feather light and careful, not unlike how she touched Sans' hands when he'd tried to comfort her the same way, the first day they met. He's tense too, she can tell now that she's looking at him again and it makes everything else fade into the background. ]
[ miles' brow creases, but he shrugs with a slightly tired smile. he turns his palm up against hers and gives it a gentle squeeze before withdrawing his hand. ]
I'm fine. Well, as fine as I can be, after today.
[ having to break the news to papyrus -- or rather disrupt his delusion -- had been difficult enough. it was like telling a child, in some ways. and reporting this the captains, and then the hours of clammy-palmed pacing in his office to slow down the dizzying carousel his speeding brain before he could bring himself to text lara. and his own hurt, which he's been neglecting all day in favor of tending to others' -- would still prefer to neglect, at least until lara is gone. because, lest he forget, sans was -- is a friend to miles too. one he shares an unusual relationship with, granted, but there is one to begin with. an odd thing to persist, after his last conversation with sans, immediately after chara's death, but there was more truth in sans' tired answers than in any exchange they'd had to date.
y'know, there's a word for people like you, buddy. -- oh? yeah. a great pal.
despite sans' flippant air that rivals miles', there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in that. it makes his chest hurt a little to think about, and miles determinedly pushes that away. miles rubs his face and wonders how, exactly, he became the go-to guy for dealing with death and murder on this ship. ]
Just tired, I think. Long day. I didn't sleep much last night.
[ or in the last week. he's been spending remarkably little time in his cabin, and -- he has to admit -- way too much time in his office. he's really starting to hate it. ]
[ a unique experience to have I'm fine turned on her. She wondered if Miles would say the same if he were bleeding and hurt, terrified but knowing there wasn't any use in being scared. From what she knew of him (and when had she gotten in the habit of making such close friendships in such short time), she could picture it with perfect clarity.
she considers catching his hand again, just to keep the point of contact that suddenly feels like a tether for the both of them. She can still feel the imprint of the wastebin's edge against her palm where she had gripped it too tightly. Lara carefully sat back down next to Miles.]
I'm starting to wonder if anyone on this ship sleeps. [ her voice is quiet, a little rough edges from the screaming she didn't do.] Thank you. For telling me. I know it's not easy.
Oh, trust me, they do. You can hear Ivan snoring all the way down the hall.
[ the comment doesn't have quite the usual cheerful irreverence, more quietly muttered than anything else, but it's an attempt at chipping away at the tension. miles gives her a tired smile with a faint tilt of his mouth and shrugs with one shoulder in agreement. ]
No, it isn't. But I'm glad I did. And I thought you deserved to hear it from -- [ me? rein it in, boy. ] A friend.
Perhaps we should petition the captains for more of that ice cream.
[ She hesitates. Wants to offer her help somehow. Wants to... Not necessarily even the score, but ease a little of the burdens she worries that she's adding to. She'd like to apologize for always losing herself a little when he's around, but she's not sure how that would go over. She steeles herself and leans forward, pressing a kiss, light and quick against his cheek.]
I-- I haven't had a lot of friends. I didn't expect to finds the ones I have here, but-- [ She's fumbling a little with words. Affection came so easily to Sam and Jonah, she wondered how they did it. It feels a confusing jumble in the still raw grief of Sans' death. ] I'm glad I have you.
[ miles hums vague agreement that suggestion -- in retrospect he is hardly pleased with ivan for slipping him that ice cream without telling him what it was, and being in such a relative state of relaxation was almost jarring, compared to what an unmitigated mess he's been lately. but it had been nice. being with lara had been nice too.
he goes a little pink at that kiss to his cheek, a small and slightly idiotic smile touching his face before it mutes itself. ]
I'm glad I have you, too. [ he reaches to take her hand and give it another little squeeze. ] I didn't expect to find half the friends I have here, either, but I don't regret a single one.
And, ah, on the note of conversations I wanted to have today... [ he clears his throat, and a relative of that pleased smile resurfaces, although it's oddly diffident, unusual compared to miles' usual unabashed energy. ] I very much enjoyed last night.
[ he'd like to say and i'd very much like to do it again, and he nearly does, but he cuts himself off there. he's not going to barrel into that topic when lara's still reeling from the blow of grief. he just...wanted her to know, rather than letting last night go unacknowledged entirely. ]
[ It's almost a physical relief to see him smile again, a real proper pleased smile, even when it returns almost shy. A strange look for him. Lara shifts their hands so she can entwine their fingers, squeezing his back gently, while wondering if this it's all right to do.
I enjoyed it too.
[ It's all she can think to say, but it's sincerely meant.
Going for the jugular with that one, you're a piece of work all right, chuckles a relentlessly familiar voice, How long you gonna string this one along, kiddo?
She glances to Miles' desk where... It's not Sans. Sans never looked at her like that. Casually cold and cruel. Nice alliteration. Never the less, there he is, blood stained and cracked, leaning casually across the top of Miles' desk. Her mouth thins and she stiffens, all the tension slamming back into her. The Not-Sans' smile widens You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easy, did you? ]
[ miles brightens at that, obviously thrilled with the one thing going right in all this murky mess. he tightens his grip on her hand, absently rubbing his thumb along the heel of her hand.
but then she goes stiff, that tense look on her face returning in full force. miles looks alarmed, concerned, but he doesn't let go of her hand. ]
[ miles follows her gaze to his desk, brow knitting just slightly. his chest goes a little cold with recognition. ah. ]
Unless you're talking about my empty desk, then no, I don't. [ there's no trace of skepticism in it, just acknowledgment. his face sobers. ] What do you see?
[ She doesn't want to say, because it's entierly mad-- Just like you, huh, kiddo.
Damn it. ]
It's Sans. [ She looks at Miles, her voice even. ] I know he's dead. I know what I'm seeing isn't real, they just-- They normally go away after a moment.
[ miles gazes at the desk a little longer with a look of consideration. he rubs briefly at his jaw, although his other hand hasn't let go of lara's. ]
Huh. [ it's a thoughtful noise. miles tilts his head to the side slightly. ] Yeah, they do that sometimes. It's a real bitch when they stick around outside of a nightmare.
[ Lara attention snaps back to Miles, even as the bloodstained Sans' at his desk snorts derisively. The only way this guy could get laid is if he crawled up a chicken's ass and waited.
Lara ignores him. ]
Do you have them? [ She's more grateful than she can say that he doesn't let go of her hand, doesn't tell her she's crazy or ask her to leave. ]
Sometimes. [ his voice is just as level, bordering on conversational if it weren't for the thin strain in his voice, born out of wounds still healing rather than reluctance. dagoola wasn't all that long ago. barely a year, now. he attempts a shrug, but it aborts halfway through. ] Losing people under your command is always difficult, but sometimes -- sometimes they just...stand out.
[ he's been through hell and back more than once, but never anything like dagoola. nothing like dagoola. the sight of sergeant beatrice as she slipped away, brilliant red hair fading into the distance -- murka, lieutenant murka who'd been personally promoted by miles himself, whose head is the only thing miles sees anymore. whoever said dead bodies don't talk obviously never saw any combat. he's not quite aware that he's talking too much, saying too much, or at least saying the wrong things. lieutenants don't see command. lieutenants don't oversee extractions or evacs. but miles did, and his mind -- his soul will never let him forget it. ]
It wasn't even that bad of an op, if you just looked at the numbers. Ten thousand POWs in that camp, and we got nearly all of them out. [ he's not quite looking at lara, his gaze slightly distant. ] Usually it's just nightmares -- bad ones -- but, well. Sometimes not so much.
[ He's gone somewhere else, she can tell just from the barest shift in his expression. Is that what she looked like? It's a little unnerving. Somewhere just beyond her attention, the Sans-who-isn't laughs, loud and derisive.
But that's all right. Miles can't hear him. Whatever he's seeing now, it's just the two of them in this room. She just wishes, rather desperately, that she knew what to say. She squeezes his hand. ]
Do you-- Do you ever lose track of what's real? [ And is that even a question she should have asked? She wishes she knew how to be like him, how to tug him back from whatever edge he's listing towards. ]
[ miles isn't so far gone that a squeeze of his hand doesn't bring him back to the moment, and he blinks out of the memory up at lara. he opens his mouth to answer but he hovers in silence a moment instead, closing his mouth to frown slightly in thought. ]
Sometimes, in a sense. Maybe -- maybe not so much what's real and not real so much as what's real in context. What's real right now.
[ he's rambling again without even realizing it -- he often doesn't -- but this time he looks more in danger of getting lost in thought than in memory. this is about the point in the conversation where he ought to be shutting his mouth and changing the subject, but he's been increasingly lost on this topic in particular. and today has just been so damn exhausting -- he doesn't quite have the energy to remember to check himself where he should. ]
It can get hard to remember, under the right -- wrong circumstances. It's a parallel process, keeping track, and when the tracks run too close together... [ he waves a hand vaguely and tilts his head up at lara, tapping a finger lightly to his temple. ] It's all about context, y'see. Context keeps you grounded. It's easy to lose track when you lose your context.
[ He's lost her entierly, though she does try to follow along. He's looking at her at least, that's... Probably a start. She is entierly out of her depth here, but she forges ahead anyway. ]
I don't understand... What do you mean by context?
Context is everything. It determines how you act and when, the words you use, who you are -- you can't just exist in a vacuum. It's impossible. And it's so easy to lose track of who you're supposed to be when you're neither here nor there...
[ miles lets himself trail off as he realizes where he's going with this, and he coughs, embarrassed. dammit, he's supposed to be helping her here. he lets out a self-conscious laugh. ]
Sorry, I've lost you. I don't usually wear my crazy on my sleeve like that. [ he gives her a rueful smile with a touch of well-worn self-deprecation. ] Don't worry about it.
[ he glances back at his desk where he assumes not-sans still is, seeing nothing, but not without understanding. he clasps lara's hand a little tighter. ]
Anyway -- you can stay here as long as you like. If you like. I mean -- I'm not going to make you stay, but if you need... [ anything? ] If you need to, you can hang out in here. I don't mind.
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Lara -- [ he's not going to say it's okay, because that's not really his call. instead he just sits there for a second with his arm around her shoulders, biting his lips together. ] He'll come back, Lara. Like me and Chara and Eggsy did.
[ but resurgence always has a price. miles isn't sure he ever did get around explaining how it works to lara, since chara's death. he knows it doesn't make it any easier to bear, knowing that sans will come back -- it sure as hell isn't doing much for him now -- but she ought to know. ]
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The words don't come, but at least she's not sobbing, just noiseless tears running down her cheeks.
Skeleton got your tongue, kiddo? Sans voice is casual in her mind, a parody of warmth. It's odd there's no blood pooling on the floor, but the canon, electric blue and bright, had felt more like electricity, had left a burn. So maybe it was right that she couldn't find the blood, even if she can't stop picturing it, shining in the light of Miles' office and seeping into the floor (patch-worked from the sunlight through leaves, roots a tangled knot and small white flowers that feel wrong and out of place), staining pink slippers that don't exist.
She feels vaguely sick, doesn't want to throw up on Miles, but reluctant to pull away. He, at least, is real. ]
Right. All right. [ She stares at the blood on the floor she knows doesn't exist and tries to even out her breath. ]
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it's different every time, but there are always common elements, and he recognizes the tinge of incipient nausea on her face and reaches out with his leg to nudge the nearby wastebin toward the couch, between their feet. he doesn't let go of lara, gently squeezing her shoulder. ]
Take a minute. It's alright.
[ the words are a quiet, cracked murmur. he didn't call her over to talk just to banish her at the first sign of despair. this is what he called her to do. ]
retroactively slaps the tw: blood warning on there i guess.
That are moving. A bloody hand pushing it's way through the tangle of grass and metal. The face grins up at her is a familiar on, less skeletal then the first.
Aw gee, Lara. Didn't know you'd throw me over so quick.
Alex... Not possible. ]
You're dead. You died. [ Her voice is soft, directed at the two bloodsoaked bodies in front of her.
Yeah, tibia honest, it's a real pain. Sans smiles and smiles and smiles, blood dripping from dark eye sockets. He nods at Miles, Can you believe this guy tho? What a sap! He's got no idea the level of crazy he's angling to stick his dick in! Anger rips through her, sharp and hot. This isn't real, she knows this isn't real. She reaches for the bin, pulling herself away from Miles.
The wastebin thumps off the wall with a loud wham! The room is quiet, just the sound of her heart in her head. The room is itself and she find she can't bring herself to look at Miles. ]
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for half a second he thinks she's going to vomit, but then she hurls the wastebin at the wall, and miles nearly flinches, little more than a reflexive twitch of his shoulders. this is a little farther out of the realm of not okay he was expecting, but given everything he knows about lara -- and everything he's pieced together from reading between the lines -- he shouldn't be surprised.
miles swallows the urge to break the silence with a tasteless response like and yet, here i am and instead draws in a shallow breath and holds it. he plants his hand on the couch just behind lara, neither touching nor pulling away. he can't imagine how different the her circumstances are from his, but he knows that look, that tension. the look of someone who was miles and years away from here just two seconds ago. his voice comes out a gentle murmur. ]
Lara.
[ he falters after her name, realizing he's got no followup and fumbling desperately for something to say, something useful to say. what is he supposed to say? what would he want someone to say, when all he can see is murka's head, sergeant beatrice's rapidly disappearing form? ]
Wherever you were just now, you're still here. [ he catches a breath. ] With me. It's alright.
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I'm sorry. [ Distantly she thinks she would find it unnerving how steady her own voice is, after a display like that. Another breath and she forces herself to turn and look at him. ] I shouldn't have thrown your wastebin.
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[ miles is hoping to inject just enough levity to release some of that tension, and he holds her gaze with one he hopes conveys concern and sympathy and support and acknowledgment all at once. he hoverrs a moment before he puts a hand on lara's arm. he's tense, too, half-holding his breath in case something else breaks. ]
There's nothing to apologize for, anyway, so you're in the clear. It's alright, Lara.
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Her other hand reaches up to cover his on her arm, the touch feather light and careful, not unlike how she touched Sans' hands when he'd tried to comfort her the same way, the first day they met. He's tense too, she can tell now that she's looking at him again and it makes everything else fade into the background. ]
Are you all right?
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I'm fine. Well, as fine as I can be, after today.
[ having to break the news to papyrus -- or rather disrupt his delusion -- had been difficult enough. it was like telling a child, in some ways. and reporting this the captains, and then the hours of clammy-palmed pacing in his office to slow down the dizzying carousel his speeding brain before he could bring himself to text lara. and his own hurt, which he's been neglecting all day in favor of tending to others' -- would still prefer to neglect, at least until lara is gone. because, lest he forget, sans was -- is a friend to miles too. one he shares an unusual relationship with, granted, but there is one to begin with. an odd thing to persist, after his last conversation with sans, immediately after chara's death, but there was more truth in sans' tired answers than in any exchange they'd had to date.
y'know, there's a word for people like you, buddy.
-- oh?
yeah. a great pal.
despite sans' flippant air that rivals miles', there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in that. it makes his chest hurt a little to think about, and miles determinedly pushes that away. miles rubs his face and wonders how, exactly, he became the go-to guy for dealing with death and murder on this ship. ]
Just tired, I think. Long day. I didn't sleep much last night.
[ or in the last week. he's been spending remarkably little time in his cabin, and -- he has to admit -- way too much time in his office. he's really starting to hate it. ]
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she considers catching his hand again, just to keep the point of contact that suddenly feels like a tether for the both of them. She can still feel the imprint of the wastebin's edge against her palm where she had gripped it too tightly. Lara carefully sat back down next to Miles.]
I'm starting to wonder if anyone on this ship sleeps. [ her voice is quiet, a little rough edges from the screaming she didn't do.] Thank you. For telling me. I know it's not easy.
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[ the comment doesn't have quite the usual cheerful irreverence, more quietly muttered than anything else, but it's an attempt at chipping away at the tension. miles gives her a tired smile with a faint tilt of his mouth and shrugs with one shoulder in agreement. ]
No, it isn't. But I'm glad I did. And I thought you deserved to hear it from -- [ me? rein it in, boy. ] A friend.
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Perhaps we should petition the captains for more of that ice cream.
[ She hesitates. Wants to offer her help somehow. Wants to... Not necessarily even the score, but ease a little of the burdens she worries that she's adding to. She'd like to apologize for always losing herself a little when he's around, but she's not sure how that would go over. She steeles herself and leans forward, pressing a kiss, light and quick against his cheek.]
I-- I haven't had a lot of friends. I didn't expect to finds the ones I have here, but-- [ She's fumbling a little with words. Affection came so easily to Sam and Jonah, she wondered how they did it. It feels a confusing jumble in the still raw grief of Sans' death. ] I'm glad I have you.
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he goes a little pink at that kiss to his cheek, a small and slightly idiotic smile touching his face before it mutes itself. ]
I'm glad I have you, too. [ he reaches to take her hand and give it another little squeeze. ] I didn't expect to find half the friends I have here, either, but I don't regret a single one.
And, ah, on the note of conversations I wanted to have today... [ he clears his throat, and a relative of that pleased smile resurfaces, although it's oddly diffident, unusual compared to miles' usual unabashed energy. ] I very much enjoyed last night.
[ he'd like to say and i'd very much like to do it again, and he nearly does, but he cuts himself off there. he's not going to barrel into that topic when lara's still reeling from the blow of grief. he just...wanted her to know, rather than letting last night go unacknowledged entirely. ]
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I enjoyed it too.
[ It's all she can think to say, but it's sincerely meant.
Going for the jugular with that one, you're a piece of work all right, chuckles a relentlessly familiar voice, How long you gonna string this one along, kiddo?
She glances to Miles' desk where... It's not Sans. Sans never looked at her like that. Casually cold and cruel. Nice alliteration. Never the less, there he is, blood stained and cracked, leaning casually across the top of Miles' desk. Her mouth thins and she stiffens, all the tension slamming back into her. The Not-Sans' smile widens You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easy, did you? ]
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but then she goes stiff, that tense look on her face returning in full force. miles looks alarmed, concerned, but he doesn't let go of her hand. ]
Lara?
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Lara let's out a slow, careful breath and doesn't move, doesn't let go of Miles' hand. ]
It's all right. [ She nods to his desk. ] You don't see that, do you.
[ Sans-- Not-Sans twiddles it's fingers at Miles in a wave. ]
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Unless you're talking about my empty desk, then no, I don't. [ there's no trace of skepticism in it, just acknowledgment. his face sobers. ] What do you see?
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Damn it. ]
It's Sans. [ She looks at Miles, her voice even. ] I know he's dead. I know what I'm seeing isn't real, they just-- They normally go away after a moment.
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Huh. [ it's a thoughtful noise. miles tilts his head to the side slightly. ] Yeah, they do that sometimes. It's a real bitch when they stick around outside of a nightmare.
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Lara ignores him. ]
Do you have them? [ She's more grateful than she can say that he doesn't let go of her hand, doesn't tell her she's crazy or ask her to leave. ]
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[ he's been through hell and back more than once, but never anything like dagoola. nothing like dagoola. the sight of sergeant beatrice as she slipped away, brilliant red hair fading into the distance -- murka, lieutenant murka who'd been personally promoted by miles himself, whose head is the only thing miles sees anymore. whoever said dead bodies don't talk obviously never saw any combat. he's not quite aware that he's talking too much, saying too much, or at least saying the wrong things. lieutenants don't see command. lieutenants don't oversee extractions or evacs. but miles did, and his mind -- his soul will never let him forget it. ]
It wasn't even that bad of an op, if you just looked at the numbers. Ten thousand POWs in that camp, and we got nearly all of them out. [ he's not quite looking at lara, his gaze slightly distant. ] Usually it's just nightmares -- bad ones -- but, well. Sometimes not so much.
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But that's all right. Miles can't hear him. Whatever he's seeing now, it's just the two of them in this room. She just wishes, rather desperately, that she knew what to say. She squeezes his hand. ]
Do you-- Do you ever lose track of what's real? [ And is that even a question she should have asked? She wishes she knew how to be like him, how to tug him back from whatever edge he's listing towards. ]
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Sometimes, in a sense. Maybe -- maybe not so much what's real and not real so much as what's real in context. What's real right now.
[ he's rambling again without even realizing it -- he often doesn't -- but this time he looks more in danger of getting lost in thought than in memory. this is about the point in the conversation where he ought to be shutting his mouth and changing the subject, but he's been increasingly lost on this topic in particular. and today has just been so damn exhausting -- he doesn't quite have the energy to remember to check himself where he should. ]
It can get hard to remember, under the right -- wrong circumstances. It's a parallel process, keeping track, and when the tracks run too close together... [ he waves a hand vaguely and tilts his head up at lara, tapping a finger lightly to his temple. ] It's all about context, y'see. Context keeps you grounded. It's easy to lose track when you lose your context.
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I don't understand... What do you mean by context?
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[ miles lets himself trail off as he realizes where he's going with this, and he coughs, embarrassed. dammit, he's supposed to be helping her here. he lets out a self-conscious laugh. ]
Sorry, I've lost you. I don't usually wear my crazy on my sleeve like that. [ he gives her a rueful smile with a touch of well-worn self-deprecation. ] Don't worry about it.
[ he glances back at his desk where he assumes not-sans still is, seeing nothing, but not without understanding. he clasps lara's hand a little tighter. ]
Anyway -- you can stay here as long as you like. If you like. I mean -- I'm not going to make you stay, but if you need... [ anything? ] If you need to, you can hang out in here. I don't mind.
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