[ it seems such a funny thing to ask, now after everything. after the whole truth has come out, and yet she stands here still, gripping the pen tight in her hand because his own hands have grown too used to letting go. doesn't that scream her answer loud enough?
but maybe that's not the point here. maybe he's asking not because her answer isn't clear, but because he'd never had the chance to ask before. that people already left, before he could even form the words.
so maybe, right now, it's more important what he wants. what he still gets to decide.
to know that, despite everything, there are still some things he can control. ]
since when has he ever really been in charge of his own story? whether it's pulling the trigger on his father or turning his back on ctac or standing with the envoys, the world has always moved him along with each step, pulling him one way or another until he's left with nothing but inevitable choices. any decision he's made for himself has never been made to last, everything he's wanted has never stayed.
— why would it start now?
but she's giving him the choice here, with her hand held out, pen clenched within her fingers, and she isn't shaking on her question.
his eyes linger on her without knowing for how long, knowing what awaits him with this deal, knowing what he may be dragging her further into, knowing that she now knows it all too. he's still looking at her when he reaches to curl his fingers around the pen and around her knuckles, holding both at once. ]
Yeah.
[ he finally answers, spoken like a sigh. she's giving him the choice, but his gaze still looks to her like he's still asking the question in his every word. like he needs her to know she still has an out. ]
I ... want you with me. [ whatever that means, he doesn't know. he takes a step closer, quiet in his breath. ] Whatever happens to me after all of this, I'd want you there.
[ marta doesn't realize she'd been holding her breath, waiting on his answer with a slight flutter of apprehension. it strikes her then that it's been a long time since she'd felt she'd overstayed her welcome with him; that the worry of being a burden hasn't reared its ugly head since the first few weeks they'd settled into scorpion's bend. but for just that brief moment, she can't help but wonder — is it truly over?
was her place beside him as temporary as their stay?
maybe it might have been, once. but not now, not when he holds her hand, meets her eyes, tells her what he wants. what he lets himself want, for once. ]
I'll be there. [ emotion floods her voice, makes it thick. relief, joy, anticipation. ] Wherever you need me, prometo.
[ this close, it's so very easy to draw him into the circle of her arms. after nights spent huddled together for warmth, listening to the sound of each other's heartbeats for lullabies, it feels only natural to wrap her arms around him now, to rise up on her tiptoes and thread one hand into his hair.
i'm here, the squeeze of her arms promise. i'm here i'm here i'm here.
by his ear, without the weight of his eyes on her to make her shy, she confesses, ]
[ kovacs isn't used to getting what he wants, to earnestly ask for something and have it handed right to him. he's the one who makes things happen for everyone else — following orders, completing the mission, making deals. but just being able to stay close to someone? that's never been allowed, and even now, with marta making her promise to him, he't not sure how long it's meant to last.
rei, quell, clara — they either left or were taken. living longer than one should, you get used to the idea of impermanence.
but with marta circling her arms around him, holding him in close to her, he finds himself wanting to pretend this won't be like the rest, that it won't go wrong, that he won't lose her. that'll be a change for you, he can almost hear quell say, but her voice is drowned out by the gentle one at his ear, the one that draws him in to sink his face against the crook of her neck.
nothing else leaves his own mouth, bringing his arms around her, one hand splaying against her back as the other one still clutches the pen she's handed him. instead, he holds her, his sigh calm and slow against her skin, and lets himself believe she really isn't going anywhere. ]
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no subject
but maybe that's not the point here. maybe he's asking not because her answer isn't clear, but because he'd never had the chance to ask before. that people already left, before he could even form the words.
so maybe, right now, it's more important what he wants. what he still gets to decide.
to know that, despite everything, there are still some things he can control. ]
It's your story, Takeshi.
[ there are some people he gets to ask to stay. ]
Are you asking me to be?
no subject
since when has he ever really been in charge of his own story? whether it's pulling the trigger on his father or turning his back on ctac or standing with the envoys, the world has always moved him along with each step, pulling him one way or another until he's left with nothing but inevitable choices. any decision he's made for himself has never been made to last, everything he's wanted has never stayed.
— why would it start now?
but she's giving him the choice here, with her hand held out, pen clenched within her fingers, and she isn't shaking on her question.
his eyes linger on her without knowing for how long, knowing what awaits him with this deal, knowing what he may be dragging her further into, knowing that she now knows it all too. he's still looking at her when he reaches to curl his fingers around the pen and around her knuckles, holding both at once. ]
Yeah.
[ he finally answers, spoken like a sigh. she's giving him the choice, but his gaze still looks to her like he's still asking the question in his every word. like he needs her to know she still has an out. ]
I ... want you with me. [ whatever that means, he doesn't know. he takes a step closer, quiet in his breath. ] Whatever happens to me after all of this, I'd want you there.
no subject
was her place beside him as temporary as their stay?
maybe it might have been, once. but not now, not when he holds her hand, meets her eyes, tells her what he wants. what he lets himself want, for once. ]
I'll be there. [ emotion floods her voice, makes it thick. relief, joy, anticipation. ] Wherever you need me, prometo.
[ this close, it's so very easy to draw him into the circle of her arms. after nights spent huddled together for warmth, listening to the sound of each other's heartbeats for lullabies, it feels only natural to wrap her arms around him now, to rise up on her tiptoes and thread one hand into his hair.
i'm here, the squeeze of her arms promise. i'm here i'm here i'm here.
by his ear, without the weight of his eyes on her to make her shy, she confesses, ]
I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
no subject
rei, quell, clara — they either left or were taken. living longer than one should, you get used to the idea of impermanence.
but with marta circling her arms around him, holding him in close to her, he finds himself wanting to pretend this won't be like the rest, that it won't go wrong, that he won't lose her. that'll be a change for you, he can almost hear quell say, but her voice is drowned out by the gentle one at his ear, the one that draws him in to sink his face against the crook of her neck.
nothing else leaves his own mouth, bringing his arms around her, one hand splaying against her back as the other one still clutches the pen she's handed him. instead, he holds her, his sigh calm and slow against her skin, and lets himself believe she really isn't going anywhere. ]