#its only digging the hole deeper. take care of yourself out of spite if nothing else

[waitinginthecorner]

Ugh oh got myself twisted up in a bad way and I want to deny myself necessities and love

[srydcr]

to breathe deep and feel reality

jaal x sara ryder  hurt & comfort - ao3 link

Sometimes, Sara was sure that space was alive. Empty- a husk, even- but breathing nonetheless, in a sort of shallow way. It had a rhythm, though perhaps it was simply a single note, held down, measuring beats by the distant pulsing of stars she would never see; it was as much a comfort as it was a tragedy, she thought. Bittersweet. She tried to count the notes, finger tapping in time to a star that glowed a peculiar shade of blue- one, two, three, rest. He’d almost been shot. Sleep evaded her, as always. Lexi tried to help- insistent on administering melatonin supplements, magnesium pills, and even going so far as to demand Sara change her diet- but nothing ever seemed to work, and the Pathfinder would, most nights, remain awake for hours after the Tempest’s lights had been dimmed. To her knowledge, the only other person aboard who slept as little as she did was Kallo. She didn’t mind all that much, if she were to be honest. Sleep meant dreams, and dreams were rarely pleasant; all they accomplished nowadays was reminding her that the throne she sat upon was made of her own father’s bones, and that the title others worshipped didn’t belong to her, not truly. Sara was there for no other reason than to fill his shell. To be something at least reminiscent of Alec. She took after him in more ways than she would’ve cared to admit. God, she missed Scott; they were- and had always been- a single commodity, and separation rarely did either of them any good; there was a balance between them, a sort of scale that remained steady due solely to each other’s influence. Scott was a good, solid mix of soldier and diplomat, and acted as a balancing weight, so to speak, to her hot-blooded nature. She was logical, though, and creative- two things her brother had never been- and helped him consider situations in a different light to how he may have alone. In turn, he acted as 90% of her impulse control. There were nights when she would write him, despite the knowledge he could neither read nor reply; it still felt as though she was keeping him updated, though, and the idea brought her some comfort. He’d want to know what was happening. “Sara,” piped SAM, jolting her out of her reverie. “It is 4AM. Morning alarms are set for two hours.” She sighed, and moved back from the window to take a heavy seat upon her bed, hands running through her hair- the colour was beginning to fade, and Sara wondered if Vetra would be able to dig up some dye. Needed a trim, too. “Thanks, bud,” she said, after a moment. SAM himself had become something of a brother to her, if an odd, clinical one. She already had one of those. “Think I’m gonna get some food. Anyone else awake?” He was quiet for a moment, then replied, “No-one but Kallo Jath and Jaal Ama Darav, Sara.” “Right. Tell me if anyone comes, please.” With that, she made her silent way to the small kitchen just outside her personal quarters, doing her best to remain quiet. A few of her crew slept light, she knew, and Doctor T’Perro and Cora were the worst of them; both of whom would flip if they found her in the kitchen, two hours before wake-up. It was hard to pour cereal quietly, though, and each time one pinged against her bowl she nearly hemorrhaged. It was a weird thought- the human Pathfinder, sneaking into the kitchen in the dead of night to steal Blast-Ohs. It succeeded, however, in reminding her that she was absolutely 100% not cut out for this. Her dad had to have known that, had to have recognised that no, his anxious mess of a daughter was not an ideal leader; hell, her brother wasn’t perfect, but at least he had some leadership experience. Sara was a recon specialist; she knew quiet, she could do quiet, but when it came to loud, apparent, purposeful, she was lost. Scott had always been the loud one, and she his logical voice of reason. He should be here, damn it. Sara’s back hit the wall and slid, until she was curled over herself, head buried in her hands. Scott should’ve been there. Her dad should’ve been alive; he should’ve kept his fucking helmet on and flown back up onto the Hyperion to lead them, like he was meant to. In losing him, the Initiative had lost a figurehead and icon, a dreamer who forged the very foundation of their journey. And she’d lost her other parent. Sara felt like she’d never truly gotten to know her father. She just hoped she was making him proud. “Sara,” said SAM, in their private channel. “Mr. Ama Darav is coming down the hall, towards your location. I have alerted him of your presence.” Sara sighed. She and Jaal were close, but they hadn’t spoken at any great length since the incident with Akksul. It had shaken her terribly, to see yet another person she cared deeply about in danger- the bullet had been so close, and had Akksul not missed, Jaal would be dead. The thought hurt. It had been more harrowing for him, of that she was sure, and the only consolation she was familiar with was space, so that is what she gave him. A deeper part of her, however, knew that she had not been avoiding him for that reason alone- it frightened Sara, how scared she had been. She supposed she was trying to sort out what was going on in her head. Their conversations since had been amiable, yet brief. The metal against her back had begun to seep its chill through her clothes. Everything felt cold, these days; her hands, her bed, her quarters, her demeanor. Perhaps he rubbed off on you more than you thought, came a small yet decidedly spiteful voice. Plenty of those. Her mom used to help, and for a long time they were dormant; Sara’s ‘little demons’, she had called them in that motherly tone of hers. They had come back when she died though, and despite her love for Scott, his consolations were never quite the same, and without even him, her mind had run rampant. SAM and Lexi tried their best, nevertheless, and she loved them for it; Lexi in particular, despite Sara’s complaints, had very much become a stabilising crutch. SAM too, though sometimes he reminded her a little too much of her brother, and that stung.       Moments later, a familiar purple head poked its way into the kitchen, scrutinizing eyes running up and down her frame before he entered. Jaal was large, but from her vantage point on the floor, he loomed- all shoulders and arms and narrowed eyes, lips twisted into a frown that looked more concern than anger. “You should be sleeping.” “Yeah.” “But you are not.” Sara gathered her arms around herself a little tighter. “Yeah.” At that, he surveyed her a little harder, mouth pressing into a line and head cocking to the side, eyes darting, likely trying to decipher her body language. He did that a lot, the surveying thing. Initially, it had made her uncomfortable, but she understood, now- he was just trying to figure her out, to decipher why the Pathfinder could possibly be curled up on the kitchen floor beside an abandoned bowl of cereal. A moment passed in silence, and then another, and one more after that until Jaal- instead of leaving- sat down opposite her, mimicking her posture and never once breaking eye contact. “Do all humans sleep as little as you, Ryder?” Sara laughed; a small, bitten sound. “No, not generally. We’re supposed to get eight hours, I think? A night, that is. Some of us have more trouble sleeping. There’s these supplements you can take that help the process, though. Lexi’s got me on them at the moment.” “They do not seem to be working,” he said, giving her a scrutinizing look. Sara reddened. “That was not intended as criticism; I cannot sleep, either.” “I noticed,” replied Sara, giving him a smile. “So, what’s keepin’ you up?” Jaal frowned, as if it were a dumb question. “Thoughts?” The two exchanged a moment of eye contact. They were unsure of what to say- if there was, in fact, anything to be said to that, thought Sara, running a hand through her hair. “Thoughts, hey? Yeah, that’ll get you every time.” At that, he smiled. She liked that smile, even if she didn’t see it all too often; it was gentle- friendly- and soft. Inviting. Sara had been intimidated by him beyond belief, upon meeting him; this towering, broad fellow with spooky eyes, regarding her with distrust, surrounded by others who likely fancied her alien head on a pike. It remained a disquieting thought. Jaal was sweet, though, and she had taken to him quickly. He felt familiar, though for what reason, she had no idea. And when Akksul’s bullet had grazed his head, Sara had felt the devil tear at her stomach. A companionable silence stretched. Both parties were deep in thought, and she noticed his hand twitching a little; it did that sometimes, when he was thinking. Distantly, Sara wondered when she’d picked that up. Her thoughts, however, were drowned out by others, more intrusive and immediate, most of which were of her brother and father. The hole the loss of her mother had left in her was slowly expanding, first with Alec’s untimely death, and then with Scott’s… condition. He wasn’t dead, but God knew sometimes it felt that way. She promised herself she wouldn’t mourn him- he wasn’t dead. Yet sometimes she caught herself thinking of him in past tense. “Do you have family, Jaal?” The question seemed to take him off guard. His brow shot up, and he shifted; momentarily uncomfortable, it seemed, or perhaps just taken aback. “Family? It is part of our culture. We have large families, and we share parents with the community; we all have many mothers. I have a true mother, Sahuna, and many, many siblings. We are… close. We always have been.” That stung a little, but Sara smiled, regardless. She was glad. “And yourself?” asked Jaal, regarding her with curiosity. “I have not heard you talk of your family. Are you close?” “Ah- yeah. We were.” There was a moment- drawn by the peculiar silence that had fallen between them, as if a lack of speech could be a question- in which that was the only explanation she offered. It never got easier, talking about her mom; no amount of therapy or comfort could ward away the odd emptiness inside her the name ‘Ellen Ryder’ wrought, and once the death of her father had finally set in, the feeling had become a chasm. And the name ‘Alec’ was said a lot more. “My mom died a while ago. She was- uh- sick,” began Sara, slowly- cautiously. Jaal was watching her with a tilted head. “And my dad, I… lost recently. My brother’s alive, but there was a technical difficulty when they were waking him up from cryo, so he- uh- only got half-revived. He’s in a coma, but they tell me he’ll be okay.” Jaal frowned, but this time, his eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Sara.” She smiled at him, but remained silent. She didn’t know what to say. “Tell me about him,” he said, watching her carefully, conscious of a line he did not wish to overstep. “Your brother, I mean. If you would like to.” A small breath escaped her, followed by an utterance of ‘oh’, before she brought up her omni-tool to find a picture in her archives. It was old, but the most recent one she had; they hadn’t taken many pictures, after their mom had died- if felt as if the family was incomplete. It remained her favourite, though, because it was the last one that existed of all of them before her brother dyed his hair green. Sara had hated it, so he’d kept doing it. “That one,” she said, pointing to her brother and shuffling closer to Jaal, so he could see, “is Scott. He’s a dumbass. I love him.” He made a soft, interested noise, and grasped her forearm to gain a better look, sketching Scott’s face with his eyes like he did hers. It made her smile. “He looks like you,” said Jaal, sparing her a smile before returning to look at the picture. His hand brushed the display, from her brother’s face to hers. Sara laughed. “Yeah, he’s my twin.” “And you are close?” “Yeah. We always have been,” she said, fondly. “I miss him. He and I were- I mean, we’re a double package, y’know? A two for one deal, kinda. I think you’d like him; he’s big into guns. And talking.” Jaal chuckled, leaning back to rest against the wall. His thigh brushed her hip; they were closer than she thought. “Is that so?” “I mean, we’re similar in a lot of ways, too. But yeah, he’s a motor-mouth; God forbid he get started on weapon maintenance,” she trailed off with a sigh, smirking. “He used to do it to annoy me. Eventually, it just became habit- comforting for him, and white noise for me. I- uh- miss him. A lot.” “I would like to meet him,” he said, after a small silence. “You speak of him fondly. And those are your parents?” “Oh. Yeah.” Her mom and dad hadn’t looked like that for a long time. In death, Ellen had been frail, drawn. Pallid. And her father hadn’t smiled like that in years, not for anyone. He was a good man, she knew, and a good father, in his own way; it was because of him and Scott and her actually had a chance out here. Well- that she did. Alec had taught her how to shoot, how to assemble a turret, how to hold a biotic barrier in place. Sara had never taken to tech quite like she had combat, though; she was too impatient, her father told her, and ‘thought too broadly’. Whatever the hell that meant. “You and your brother- you look like your father. He… was the previous Pathfinder, was he not? I have heard Cora talk of him.” Her finger brushed the display, over his face. A pit had formed in her stomach, as it always did at the mention of her dad. “He was. The title was meant to be handed down to Cora, in the event of his death. Don’t know why he gave it to me,” Sara paused, and smiled. It was bitter. “Guess I can’t ask him now, though. What’s done is done, though I don’t think I’ll ever really understand.” Jaal cocked his head to the side, and twisted to face her. She felt small under his gaze. “You give yourself too little credit, Sara. I have never thought you out of place; you fit the position as if it were your own skin.”     “That’s- kind of you.” He smiled. “You are kind to me.” Sara bumped his shoulder with her own, unsure of how to respond. She could feel a flush coming to her cheeks, though. “You’re my friend. I feel like that’s reason enough not to airlock you, no?” “One would hope, Pathfinder.” “Man, it never gets any less weird, hearing that,” she muttered, leaning back beside him. The clock on her omnitool read 4:40AM. “I feel like it’s still my dad’s title, y’know? Kind of like I’m borrowing it, or something. Everything’s yet to sink in, I guess. Big storm comin’.” Jaal made a noise that sounded somewhat like agreement deep in his chest, and Sara leaned her head into his shoulder absentmindedly; she felt terrible for avoiding him, and even worse for failing to check in- he was her squadmate, and her friend. Sara had to know he was okay. To her knowledge, there remained a rift between himself and her milky way crew, though it was smaller than before. Liam had done his best to make the angaran feel at home, she knew, and he and Cora seemed to be amiable, if not friends. “You really scared me, you know.” He shifted a little at that, twisting in order to look down at her, brow furrowing. Jaal said nothing, though, and instead waited for Sara to elaborate- he looked confused. “The whole thing with Akksul. I- you could’ve died, Jaal. If his aim had been better, if-” The angara heaved out a sigh, which turned into a breathy chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her in an almost-hug. Sara trailed off, instead pressing a palm to her forehead and leaning against him, taking a breath that nearly shuddered, but not quite. The warmth emanating from Jaal’s skin was almost enough to counteract the aching chill had had managed to seep into her bones. She wondered, distantly, if he could feel it. “You worry too much. It’s just a scar; scars heal.” Her lips thinned. “You don’t worry enough. Scars heal, but bullets to the face don’t.”   Sara’s voice wavered at that, a dangerous tell-tale sign of things she didn’t want to think about. Jaal seemed to notice, though, and cocked his head to the side, regarding her in that way he liked to. She’d felt so numb, upon seeing that bullet whiz past; her rifle had been in her hands, loaded, and ready to fire, but she’d frozen in place. That all-too familiar fear had gripped her, and rooted her in place. She couldn’t lose a friend, she had told herself; as if that is what she considered him, a friend. “I,” she began, stammering, trying her hardest to keep her voice steady- in vain. “I care about you. You- I can’t lose anyone else.” A large hand settled on her cheek, brushing aside the hair that had fallen into her face- the static on his skin made it stick up in a way that would’ve been comical, if not for the atmosphere. Sara shut her eyes and leaned her head against it- managing a stuttering inhale- and counted the beats of her own heart, which was hammering against her ribs, in her head. “I’m sorry, Sara,” he said, after a moment. His own voice was thick with emotion, and Sara noticed, distantly, that it was now gone 5AM. “You have suffered. I would never wish to cause you additional pain.”     She didn’t know when they’d gotten so close, but now their faces were just inches apart, and she could see every fleck of colour in his eyes. He traced the freckles dusting her nose with the back of his hand, running it down the curve of her cheek to her lips; Jaal took a breath, and she felt it stir the hair tucked behind her ear. Sara leaned forwards until their foreheads rested against one another, and pressed a hand atop his, where it lay on her cheek. “You could never.” He seemed to take that as his cue, surging forwards to capture her lips in a very human kiss that expelled any cold that remained settled in her bones. Sara’s arms snaked up and around his neck, fingers running down the peculiar folds of his head before laying flat, trying to press the two closer together, despite the fact that any space between them had been occupied. “Detecting a spike in your vitals,” said SAM, through their private channels. No fuckin’ kidding.     Jaal’s lips twisted into a smile against hers, and he pulled back to look at her, a different expression in his eyes than before. Something toeing adoration. It made her squirm and flush, averting her gaze with a muffled laugh. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that, big guy?” said Sara, turning a deeper shade of red when Jaal leaned closer once again, smiling at her. “Because you are lovely.”  

It was an hour later when Liam, on a mission for some coffee, stumbled into the kitchen, to the sight of the Pathfinder and Jaal curled up together on the ground, both asleep and nestled against one another. Peebee owed him 20 credits.