Ruminations of a Survivor

[AuruemSaber]

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Realisation leaves me feeling numb as the ship's auto-pilot returns to Gran Canaria. It nimbly avoids the incoming rocks as it allows me to sit motionless in the pilot's seat.

While I now finally have the time and quiet to process.

Process why it hurt so much. That Kris ended what he had. Or rather, why it continued to sting so much despite the time that had passed, despite the time spent crying in Alex's arms, with his miner's coat bundled around me to provide warmth.

Because in all that time spent aboard the Spirit, the time I spent lying about in the quarters I was provided, being numb to everything, to even Jason's attempts at being supportive. All as I focused on the mission. Desperate to find some closure about Aspen and being hyper-focused on the threats along the way, I dragged the Reg, the closest thing I have left to a family, into the firing line for.

I was ignoring the fact I still cared. That was something even talking to a freshly rescued Aspen or a somewhat happy Caliban who seems to have managed to accept who he used to be and no longer shying away from the name Vincent would ever help me realise.

What it took to realise that was actually lashing out. At him, at Kris. The vile things I lashed out with, even if they did feel truthful in my heart, basic logic tells me too much may have been expected for him to see things clearly, to see how we all might actually feel.

It was his lack of denial, and his swearing of trying to change that finally helped me realise that fact. But even then, the realisation that despite it all, that I still care about him. It doesn't bring peace, just more questions as to how on earth I can still even feel the things I do in spite of everything he did.

Or maybe it's just my own guilt, as it all reminds me so much of myself and Kels. My own failures that I never had to face any consequences for.

My wonderings are interrupted by the sudden disengagement of the cruise engines as the ship's computer gives out the message that the Skyline has reached its destination. Gran Canaria.

Home. So I suppose anyway if I'm really going along with Aspen's plan, if there really is room for me in it. I set down the Skyline at the nearest landing pad to Noora's apartment before I haul myself out of the cockpit and set off along the city's footpaths. My mind wanders back to the conversation with Vincent before Kristoff showed up at Barrier Gate.

I admitted to him I was afraid, afraid that I'd prove far too difficult for Aspen and cause her too many problems. And I abhor the thought that she might try to endure it just because she feels she owes me some debt. As if she doesn't realise that the truth is I will forever be in her debt because of the fact she managed to pull me through the darkest time of my life just by simply being there when I had given up.

I don't quite know how I will deal with this fear just yet, but knowing my problems is only half the battle. Now, I need to figure out a good way to deal with these issues.

But not now; that will be an objective for the future. Right now, my current objective should be to rest, find a way to turn off for a little and just relax after the stress of these last few months. And so I double-check that there is no pungent odour from the bag of weed I picked up from the Wayfarer and stuff it into one of the pouches on my armour rig before I enter Noora's apartment. The apartment that Aspen and I are couch surfing at until she gets the Dandelion back. It would be rude to leave the place smelling like a weed farm, especially when I'm probably just going to throw it at Alex as a thank-you gift.

Noora seems surprised to see me return, going so far as to ask if I'd need help finding a hotel, a kind offer, but I can't help but notice that I leave her feeling somewhat uncomfortable. It's not unreasonable, considering she saw me and my lot slot two 'Sairs the other day. Or maybe it's the fact I walked back in with helmet and armour rig still being worn over my spacesuit, with a holstered pistol, sheathed blades, and a rifle that was slung over my shoulder.

Either way, it's still reasonable, but she doesn't object to my presence and tells me that Aspen was gone a town over, visiting someone in the hospital. She also tells me Aspen finally sorted a replacement PDA, which means she'll be able to send and receive messages again; good news to hear, so I nod and thank her as she offers a cup of tea.

Considering that it's proper tea and not herbal or decaffeinated shite, I eagerly accept. As I prop my weapon up against the couch and free myself of the weight of my armour rig, I can relax on Noora's couch with a bloody good cuppa' that didn't last that long. Soon after the tea was finished and gone, I'd feel the weight on my eyes, and I'd finally relent and let the couch swallow me as I feel sleep overtake me.

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