[ he's careful while she settles against him, eventually leaning back against the corner so he can stretch and she can lay against him more fully. when the silence cloaks them, he closes his eyes and inhales, quiet and still but warm. this is so familiar even though it's not. they hadn't done this before, not here, but they had.
his fingers brush idly against her shoulder as a means to comfort and soothe while they figure out how to lay, how to be, how to interact. but she's right, they fit once, they fit again and it doesn't take long to find the spot to lay that's comfortable for them both. ]
Jyn and Cassian. Caroline. Kol. A few other people I don't know as well. Just...it was a lot of people. A lot of sacrifice.
[ brave people willing to die for a world they didn't know. ]
[ they've done this before — not quite this, not exactly this, but close enough. they've sat on this couch and watched a movie and cuddled before and this isn't entirely unlike that. it isn't unlike that, but there's layers and layers of memory, of physicality and familiarity that they hadn't had before zerzura now.
they fit just as well now as they did in zerzura. in the house that they'd believed was their home. ]
Maybe that's what worked. That it was more than one person. Maybe that's why we're still here.
[ they died, but they're alive now.
bobbi settles more firmly against him, her breathing falling into the same rhythm as his soon enough, remembering to be this close to him, to trust the companionship between them.
i married this man part of her thinks, remembers. only she didn't, did she? she doesn't know when she'll get used to that. ]
Maybe. I just hope it's worth it. That it does something.
[ zerzura had been saved but marcos doesn't know what that means. it was a world that had enfolded them into a fantasy and made them believe something that wasn't true but that wasn't the fault of most people there. they hadn't deserved to die but he's so tired of being made to bend and twist to the whims of others. the first time, he'd nearly been killed.
this time, the experience hadn't been terrible but it memories and uncertainty in its wake. he sighs and closes his eyes, letting some of his own tension bleed away with the closeness and the warmth. ]
I would prefer if people could avoid dying for the next little while. I'm not dumb enough to ask for a break because that won't happen but something that doesn't involve dying.
[ that would be good. that would be helpful. ] Not that I get what I want but doesn't hurt to ask.
she wouldn't mind a break, either, but she figures this moment is probably as close to one as they'll come. with the alcohol warming her from the inside and marcos' body warm against hers, it feels like she could just let herself relax, maybe fall asleep.
she shouldn't. there are still lines and they haven't solved anything here, not really. he isn't her husband anymore.
he's something, though. neither one of them can just forget what happened, that much is clear. ]
[ let's hope. he doesn't want to tempt fate by thinking about it too much but he desperately wishes they'd just get some quiet. just a few weeks of quiet, calmness so people who died can recover and people who led lives that weren't theirs can come to grips with it.
new amsterdam isn't known for being giving though. it's known for rattling their cages and shaking things up and making it nearly impossible to get into a routine because something always came along to break it. ]
You can close your eyes, if you want. [ she's not heavy but he can tell she' holding herself back, trying not to fall asleep on him. ] It's okay.
[ for a moment, bobbi freezes — internally, not externally. even now, she's not that open. then she huffs out a laugh, barely more than a breath.
he really does know her, doesn't he? (it's either laughter or letting herself dwell on what that means for her, for them. laughter is easier. there have been enough revelations for one night.) ]
Are you sure?
[ she doesn't want to make things more awkward instead of less. but if he's offering —
it's all too tempting to close her eyes and let herself rest, letting the feeling of safety and comfort that his embrace brings wash over her. ]
[ would it make things more awkward when she woke up? maybe. was he going to fall asleep too? probably.
but, she's exhausted and he's not much better. he wants her to sleep right now. he wants her to relax and unwind and let go of herself at least for a little while. ]
Close your eyes, okay? [ listen to him, he's smart. she'd married him for a reason in that other life. ] I'll wake you up in a little while.
[ and she does close her eyes. after a moment, she even settles a little more firmly against him (or snuggling in closer, but she won't let herself think of it that way) and lets out a breath, some more tension bleeding from her frame. ]
[ they're both just resting their eyes. they're both just napping. bobbi definitely isn't sinking deeper into sleep than she's managed the last few nights, too used after what she remembers to be years of sleeping next to him to having him there, to hearing him breath as she drifts of and curling an arm over his chest as she sleeps. ]
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his fingers brush idly against her shoulder as a means to comfort and soothe while they figure out how to lay, how to be, how to interact. but she's right, they fit once, they fit again and it doesn't take long to find the spot to lay that's comfortable for them both. ]
Jyn and Cassian. Caroline. Kol. A few other people I don't know as well. Just...it was a lot of people. A lot of sacrifice.
[ brave people willing to die for a world they didn't know. ]
I haven't talked to a few of them.
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they fit just as well now as they did in zerzura. in the house that they'd believed was their home. ]
Maybe that's what worked. That it was more than one person. Maybe that's why we're still here.
[ they died, but they're alive now.
bobbi settles more firmly against him, her breathing falling into the same rhythm as his soon enough, remembering to be this close to him, to trust the companionship between them.
i married this man part of her thinks, remembers. only she didn't, did she? she doesn't know when she'll get used to that. ]
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[ zerzura had been saved but marcos doesn't know what that means. it was a world that had enfolded them into a fantasy and made them believe something that wasn't true but that wasn't the fault of most people there. they hadn't deserved to die but he's so tired of being made to bend and twist to the whims of others. the first time, he'd nearly been killed.
this time, the experience hadn't been terrible but it memories and uncertainty in its wake. he sighs and closes his eyes, letting some of his own tension bleed away with the closeness and the warmth. ]
I would prefer if people could avoid dying for the next little while. I'm not dumb enough to ask for a break because that won't happen but something that doesn't involve dying.
[ that would be good. that would be helpful. ] Not that I get what I want but doesn't hurt to ask.
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[ not dying.
she wouldn't mind a break, either, but she figures this moment is probably as close to one as they'll come. with the alcohol warming her from the inside and marcos' body warm against hers, it feels like she could just let herself relax, maybe fall asleep.
she shouldn't. there are still lines and they haven't solved anything here, not really. he isn't her husband anymore.
he's something, though. neither one of them can just forget what happened, that much is clear. ]
Let's hope it's not too much to ask for.
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[ let's hope. he doesn't want to tempt fate by thinking about it too much but he desperately wishes they'd just get some quiet. just a few weeks of quiet, calmness so people who died can recover and people who led lives that weren't theirs can come to grips with it.
new amsterdam isn't known for being giving though. it's known for rattling their cages and shaking things up and making it nearly impossible to get into a routine because something always came along to break it. ]
You can close your eyes, if you want. [ she's not heavy but he can tell she' holding herself back, trying not to fall asleep on him. ] It's okay.
[ for tonight, it can be okay. ]
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he really does know her, doesn't he? (it's either laughter or letting herself dwell on what that means for her, for them. laughter is easier. there have been enough revelations for one night.) ]
Are you sure?
[ she doesn't want to make things more awkward instead of less. but if he's offering —
it's all too tempting to close her eyes and let herself rest, letting the feeling of safety and comfort that his embrace brings wash over her. ]
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[ would it make things more awkward when she woke up? maybe. was he going to fall asleep too? probably.
but, she's exhausted and he's not much better. he wants her to sleep right now. he wants her to relax and unwind and let go of herself at least for a little while. ]
Close your eyes, okay? [ listen to him, he's smart. she'd married him for a reason in that other life. ] I'll wake you up in a little while.
[ maybe. if he didn't fall asleep himself. ]
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[ and she does close her eyes. after a moment, she even settles a little more firmly against him (or snuggling in closer, but she won't let herself think of it that way) and lets out a breath, some more tension bleeding from her frame. ]
Thanks, Marcos.
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[ he lowers his voice and closes his own eyes, telling himself that he's just going to rest them for a bit.
but, deep down, he knows he's going to fall asleep too. right there on the couch with her in their apartment after she'd died and they'd been married.
a nap was deserved. ]
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