open | voice

[rheecon]

Who: Glenn and your face
Broadcast: Yep!
Action: On the Goldstone if you want
When: Right after Maggie goes into cryosleep

broadcast; voice

[ He's taken a little while to try to keep it together, to check the roster, to make sense of it against what he's learned about the Fleet so far, and to at least get himself leveled out enough to talk. ]

Maggie is, um... she's not on the ship. She's still on the roster, but she's not here.

[ A pause, a steadying breath, and onward - ]

I know that's supposed to mean she'll be back, but if anyone's been through this, if it was you or if it was someone you know here... how long are people gone when this happens? And they do all come back, right? As long as they're still on the roster? [ A moment - ] Are they okay?

[ That's... a lot to start with, he knows. It's everything that matters. And then, ]

Thanks. To anyone who answers.

[ Someday he'll post something nice and fun. Really. ]

Comments

[rheecon]

Yeah. Sounds good.

[ It's understood, but unnecessary. Of course Daryl can come along. He pauses just a beat, taking a breath before he cocks his head up the corridor slightly. ]

But hey, you just got here. Why don't you come see the dog?

[ He should probably feed her, now that the worst of the panic has subsided. Kind of. ]

[worn_wings]

[ shit, he totally forgot about the dog. It's a strange thought-- a reminder of how separate they are, here. Thank God she's got Glenn close by.

For so many reasons.

He nods, a shrug of his shoulder urging Glenn to lead on. ]

[rheecon]

[ And so he does, heading for the captain's bunk. ]

Kind of didn't feed her before, with everything.

[ Obviously. He's not quite ready to talk about all that everything in more depth just yet. ]

[worn_wings]

Mmn.

[ Well, he can't really blame Glenn for that. But it'll be good, he thinks-- a distraction he sorely needs right now.

He's at least trying to be subtle with his occasional worried glances. ]

[rheecon]

[ Daryl's not that subtle, but Glenn gets back to the quarters and gives the greeting dog a few scratches before he turns to Daryl and comments on it in any way. ]

I'll be okay. I mean... how long was Maggie stuck here without me? And--

[ And she's permanently without him, back home. He cuts himself off before he goes there, though. ]

She'll be back, and it'll probably be like nothing compared to that.

[worn_wings]

[ The great thing about cutting that off is that it definitely helps Daryl not think about the natural conclusion to that sentence. Which he definitely does not ever think about, with or without prompting. ]

Yeah, [ he grunts, leaning over to let the dog sniff his outstretched hand, because that is way easier than meeting Glenn's eyes or continuing this conversation. Or pointing out that Maggie will get by just fine on her own, because he knows for a fact that she already has.

Maybe coming over here was not a good idea. The dog, at least, is doing an okay job of being comforting, bumping its head against Glenn's knee. ]

[rheecon]

[ He knows, of course, that she'll be okay without him - she's strong, and she'll become the leader he knows she can be. Naturally, it's what he wants for her. But he isn't supposed to know, not like this.

Somehow, so much of his difficulty behind being here without her is that he shouldn't be here at all. He doesn't get to go back, he's not the one who moves on. But to be handed the impossible here, just to have it vanish...

Well. He leans down to pet the dog's head, before putting down her wildly unappealing space food. At least she's okay with it. ]

Hey. Daryl.

[ Yeah. Sorry. ]

[worn_wings]

[ Unappealing space food is plentiful, what else matters? ]

Mn?

[ he's fine, everything is fine ]

[rheecon]

[ He really doesn't want to do this, but... he kind of has to. ]

What happened, that didn't...

[ How the hell is someone supposed to talk about being killed? But he just takes a breath and does it, because he's needed to. ]

I'm still me, and you're still one of the most important people to me. That didn't change.

[worn_wings]

[ Figuring out which of them wants to have this conversation less would be a really tough call. He can't help the deer in the headlights look.

They can't talk about this. Glenn is one of his closest friends, and-- they just can't talk about this.

He's quiet for a long time. ]

We can't--

[ nnnnnnope. He shakes his head, slight but vehement ]

[rheecon]

[ Nope. He's not gonna finally work up the nerve to call this out and then fall back that easy. ]

I can't spend every day here thinking about it.

This place, with or without anyone else, this is all I've got now. And if I can just vanish, if anyone can just vanish... I don't want whatever time I have to be spent with people treating me differently.

[worn_wings]

[ Glenn's got every right to do that. That's the problem, here-- Daryl's in an impossible situation. Because he gets it. This whole impossible business, you can't do anything but try to be grateful for it but--

but-- ]

Last thing I wanna do is put this on you,

[ he says quietly, desperately, shaking his head. Doesn't say but. Doesn't need to, because it hangs in the silence anyway, unavoidable and impossible for either of them to forget. But I got you killed. It'd be a goddamn blessing if he could forget that, but he can't. And doesn't deserve to. If that's what he sees every time he closes his eyes, it's better than he deserves, because he got Glenn killed.

He definitely doesn't want to say that, though. ]

[rheecon]

[ The but may not be voiced, but it hangs there pretty heavily. It has the whole time he's been here, lingering through whatever he's done to try to get it to dissipate. It feels like he should be able to make it go away, but he doesn't have that power. Nobody can just will that away. ]

And I don't want it on you, either. Or between us.

[ There's no precedent here, of course. This would surely elude people far more emotionally competent than either of them. He falls unintentionally quiet here, trying to find words that could navigate it and failing. ]

[worn_wings]

[ Something in him breaks. He can feel it, even though of course it's nothing-- just twill or resolve or the pain he's been trying to patch up, take your goddamn pick. But all the same, he feels it. Takes a sharp breath, shuddering, too close to a sob for comfort.

Jesus, he's gotta get his shit together. He knows. Scrubs his face with the back of his hand, like the pressure of his knuckles might keep it all down somehow. ]

Dunno how, [ he manages to say, flat and clipped. He really doesn't. They gotta get past this, but how the fuck do you get past something like this? ]