Comments | rowantree_logs: Flight 401 with service to Kingstown [Closed]

red_dust_rising in rowantree_logs

Flight 401 with service to Kingstown [Closed]

Aug 16, 2009 16:06

Who: Derek Rayne, Mars
What: So there was this guy and this planet. And.
Where: Outskirts of Kingstown
When: Sunday morning, very early.

( Please keep your hands and feet inside the airship at all times. )

mars, derek rayne

Comments 43

red_wilderness August 16 2009, 21:39:47 UTC

God.

He's nervous.

He hasn't been nervous since - since his moons were new. Confused, yes, even scared of Terra and what she could do, but not. Nervous. Like a fucking teenager.

It doesn't matter what Rayne doesn't remember. It - it just can't.

He disembarks gingerly, quietly mourning the indefinable, buoying freedom of flight, planning to find somewhere to ensconce himself with the journal, ask for directions -

There. He. Of course. Rayne always came back to him before, after all.

And he can't really contain all the things he's trying to feel and think anymore, so he settles for stumbling forward.

red_dust_rising August 16 2009, 21:50:31 UTC

Rayne's breath just stops, in his chest.

Just.

Stops.

One part of his mind frantically reminds himself that he's never seen this man before, in his life - his coloring might be similar to Martians, the posture, the walk, whatever, but his face is unfamiliar. Rayne has never met him.

The other part of his mind floods with recognition, instant and painfully sharp. He can't breathe for smelling the dust on the Martian plains; he can't close his eyes for fear of seeing the pink-grey-white sky.

He falls back, leaning hard against the brick of the building behind him, shying away from the visceral recognition/patriotism/love that's just way, way too much for him to handle.

Okay. He believes.

Now what the fuck is he going to say?

red_wilderness August 16 2009, 22:00:53 UTC

Rayne is staring at him, in what he hopes is a good way, when the feel of Martian dust just hits him, the ultra-dry half metallic grit of it, and god, he's been so cut off and the texture is exactly -

He really needs to not fuck up right now.

He's close enough to speak, all of a sudden, and his hands shove themselves in his pockets and his eyes dive for the uneven cobblestones.

"Hey. So." He bites his lip, his eyes darting back up because Rayne is still looking at him and he can't actually resist that. He gives the man a grin far braver than he actually feels. "Welcome home, hero."

red_dust_rising August 16 2009, 22:09:42 UTC

Welcome home, hero.

Oh, fuck.

Rayne turns away, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. Jesus, are those tears welling up in his eyes? Things he's held back for a year, the homesickness, the pain, the imprisonment, how he managed to shut down and still cling to the only reminder he had of his loyalty to home.

He breathes, shuddery, and turns back to face Mars. His first impulse is to be defensive, sarcastic and cruel. Then to deny that he's a hero. Then to shrug it off, but he can't manage any of those. The words get stuck in his throat.

"I can't believe you're real," is what he says. Whispers, more like, his voice too full. He doesn't think he can handle this.

red_wilderness August 16 2009, 22:19:07 UTC

"Please don't say that," he begs, and it's too honest, too vulnerable. He can't just go around saying these things out loud except if he can't tell Rayne then he's just fucked sideways.

"I. Fuck. I need you."

This is so fucking wrong. He never cared about a human like this before the war. Never needed anything.