[ he doesn't stop running, leading them along from car to car, as if none will ever be quite enough to guarantee their safety, not until they feel the tremors of the bomb going off and momentarily shaking the rest of the train, like a cue to finally halt where they are. keeping his feet firm to the floor, he becomes a solid support for her as she falls against him, his arms embracing around her back, holding her to the comfort of his chest.
like that, he remains still for a time, keeping her locked to his body, his own breathing settling back normally from its heavy pants. his eyes are to the train behind them, like he's still on the defensive, prepared for another threat to arise, another kaiju, another bomb, another betrayal —
and then he feels her shift to lift her head, his eyes turning back to her again, his focus suddenly abandoning what they've just left behind, attention on the light quiver of her lips as she tries to speak.
he raises his hand, bringing it up to her cheek, settling more gently without the previous frantic panic as a distraction. there's hints of dirt against her skin, a smudge left behind from the blast of the explosion that had her caught beneath the rubble, and his thumb strokes against it, almost absentmindedly as he merely looks at her.
how many times has he almost lost her now? nearly three hundred years that he's been around, countless people he's had to lose, had to give up, had to move on without. if he lost her, it'd just be more of the same, wouldn't it?
— wouldn't it?
the difference is, he would have died for each and every one. died for rei. died for the envoys. died for quell. died for clara. it's easy to sacrifice yourself for someone when you don't find any value in yourself, when you spend every moment chasing for a purpose. but he didn't want to die in that car today. he didn't want to go down in that explosion, because he wanted this, for them to escape, for them to live.
because he doesn't want to die for marta. he wants to live for her. ]
"So, alright, these two — they just met. It's the start of their story," he raises a brow at her. "So this is the point that we, what — root for them to save each other?"
Her thoughtful hum is matched with a brief wistfulness that she is quick to draw back in on a breath. Another page turned, though not a single word was read.
"Something like that," she says, carrying on like neither of them had made such melancholy pitstops in conversation. "They start off at odds with each other, two very different people with very different wants. Saving each other is a pretty tall order for any relationship's beginning. I'd say right now it's just enough to hope that their paths keep crossing. That they'll figure it out along the way."
He knows all about crossed paths, about being at odds and watching things unravel in ways no one would have expected. His own version of the tales never ends well. Maybe this one turns out better.
"Something to look forward to then."
[ kovacs takes a soft breath, like the chaos of the world stills in the passing seconds, like all he can hear is the fall of her breath as she peers up to him, returning his stare. his own eyes are softened in their gaze, blinking slowly. ]
The rest of my story — [ smudged in thoughtful scribbles in a journal, encouraged by her words for him to keep going, to fill the pages of a life he once found little worth in. ] It needs you. [ he leans his head in closer, his voice softer, meant only for her. ] I need you.
no subject
like that, he remains still for a time, keeping her locked to his body, his own breathing settling back normally from its heavy pants. his eyes are to the train behind them, like he's still on the defensive, prepared for another threat to arise, another kaiju, another bomb, another betrayal —
and then he feels her shift to lift her head, his eyes turning back to her again, his focus suddenly abandoning what they've just left behind, attention on the light quiver of her lips as she tries to speak.
he raises his hand, bringing it up to her cheek, settling more gently without the previous frantic panic as a distraction. there's hints of dirt against her skin, a smudge left behind from the blast of the explosion that had her caught beneath the rubble, and his thumb strokes against it, almost absentmindedly as he merely looks at her.
how many times has he almost lost her now? nearly three hundred years that he's been around, countless people he's had to lose, had to give up, had to move on without. if he lost her, it'd just be more of the same, wouldn't it?
— wouldn't it?
the difference is, he would have died for each and every one. died for rei. died for the envoys. died for quell. died for clara. it's easy to sacrifice yourself for someone when you don't find any value in yourself, when you spend every moment chasing for a purpose. but he didn't want to die in that car today. he didn't want to go down in that explosion, because he wanted this, for them to escape, for them to live.
because he doesn't want to die for marta. he wants to live for her. ]
"So, alright, these two — they just met. It's the start of their story," he raises a brow at her. "So this is the point that we, what — root for them to save each other?"
Her thoughtful hum is matched with a brief wistfulness that she is quick to draw back in on a breath. Another page turned, though not a single word was read.
"Something like that," she says, carrying on like neither of them had made such melancholy pitstops in conversation. "They start off at odds with each other, two very different people with very different wants. Saving each other is a pretty tall order for any relationship's beginning. I'd say right now it's just enough to hope that their paths keep crossing. That they'll figure it out along the way."
He knows all about crossed paths, about being at odds and watching things unravel in ways no one would have expected. His own version of the tales never ends well. Maybe this one turns out better.
"Something to look forward to then."
[ kovacs takes a soft breath, like the chaos of the world stills in the passing seconds, like all he can hear is the fall of her breath as she peers up to him, returning his stare. his own eyes are softened in their gaze, blinking slowly. ]
The rest of my story — [ smudged in thoughtful scribbles in a journal, encouraged by her words for him to keep going, to fill the pages of a life he once found little worth in. ] It needs you. [ he leans his head in closer, his voice softer, meant only for her. ] I need you.