Private musings
*closes cabin door behind him*
I guess it's just you and me now, Mr. Moley.
*sits on bunk, head in hands* I'm very tired, Moley... tired. I'm trying to be cheerful and treat everyone with respect... *gives a dry laugh* yes, I have actually been making an effort. Y'see, Moley, after all of... *makes wide, encompassing gesture* that mess we went through, I think I... I don't know what to think anymore. I'm not so sure about things that seemed clear-cut only a couple of years ago.
You're a good listener, Moley, did I tell you that? You don't talk back. Much. Y'see, if anyone else heard me saying that I think I'm a changed man--or, well, that I try to be a changed man--they'd laugh in my face. The flyboy's had too much to drink and has some strange notions rattling around in the emptiness of his skull. Hah. What would they know about that? I've had *enough* of the emptiness, Moley. God knows I tried to fill it by working hard, playing hard, and chasing everything in a skirt. Didn't work though. I mean, look at Zeoona. Everyone thinks she was just a fling, and that *hurt* me. Do you *know* how I felt when I first met her? I've never met anyone I could talk with for a whole day, sharing interests, even hopes and dreams. That first time we completely forgot about eating or sleeping, stayed up until the little hours, just... talking. Bet they assume I was just trying to get into her knickers all the time. Well, they'd be wrong. Not that I minded getting there when I eventually did. *flashes wicked smile*. Yes, she was a natural pinkhead all right.
Anyway, I'm talking beside the point, really. You know she used to work with chemical weapons, lethal bacteria, the worst genetically engineered viruses you could think of? That... I can't say it *shocked* me. Let's just say that it made me think. Of how, despite what I'd been telling myself about every man for himself, I'd still somehow believed in black and white divisions, the good guys and the bad guys, or even just the strong and the weak. She changed all that. Now there she was, this physically fragile yet *enormously* strong girl, kissing me sweetly at night (she tasted of strawberries, you like strawberries, don't you?) and brewing potions that could (and did) kill thousands during the day. And there I was, believing I could somehow turn that knowledge into my... our advantage, getting her on our side. For the first time in *years*, I actually hoped. The stuff in her lab could've helped us rid dozens of planets from Pylene-50.
And then her people had to bugger it all up. Then *I* had to bugger it all up and let her go into the cargo hold alone. Just goes to show you nothing ever goes as planned.
Am I going around in circles, Moley? I guess I am. *shrugs* disappointments, the whole last year. And far too many of those due to my own stupidity. I... I feel guilty over what happened on GP, you know. And I know I should. I *did* recognise Blake. I *did*, perhaps, believe that his bounty hunter routine was a cover for rebel activity. Yet I couldn't trust my instincts, not after everything that had happened. I just *had* to assume the worst. And ruin it all.
Blake says he's forgiven me. I don't think I can ever forgive myself. I see them at night, Moley. Dayna. Soolin. First I see them laughing like they used to when we shared a drink in the rec room together. I remember what Dayna tasted like when she kissed me on Ultraworld. I remember Soolin's perfume, remember the way she used to toss her hair out of her eyes when concentrating. And then I see them fall. I see Blake, Vila bleeding on the floor, Avon numb and still as a statue, and I hear the sickening thuds as the Federation blaster bolts crush both the girls' chests. I remember the pain in my neck, in my side, and I remember *relief* at approaching death... at not having to live with their deaths on my shoulders.
But what do you know. Fate is a cruel bitch. *rubs at neck, where there's still a faint scar from a Federation rifle.* Nobody asked *me* whether I wanted to be alive. And now it seems there's nothing else to do but to try and keep on living. *harsh laugh* if Jenna hasn't planned me a warm welcome on Trantor first. You know, Moley, I'm not sure if I care. I'm trying to be a good man, and that's all there is left. Everything else is... well. *smiles* that's for Fate to decide, isn't it?
All right. I'm tired and going to bed. I'd rather have something warm and soft and living for a bedmate, but you will do for now. *hugs Mr. Moley to chest, and curls up underneath his blanket.*
I guess it's just you and me now, Mr. Moley.
*sits on bunk, head in hands* I'm very tired, Moley... tired. I'm trying to be cheerful and treat everyone with respect... *gives a dry laugh* yes, I have actually been making an effort. Y'see, Moley, after all of... *makes wide, encompassing gesture* that mess we went through, I think I... I don't know what to think anymore. I'm not so sure about things that seemed clear-cut only a couple of years ago.
You're a good listener, Moley, did I tell you that? You don't talk back. Much. Y'see, if anyone else heard me saying that I think I'm a changed man--or, well, that I try to be a changed man--they'd laugh in my face. The flyboy's had too much to drink and has some strange notions rattling around in the emptiness of his skull. Hah. What would they know about that? I've had *enough* of the emptiness, Moley. God knows I tried to fill it by working hard, playing hard, and chasing everything in a skirt. Didn't work though. I mean, look at Zeoona. Everyone thinks she was just a fling, and that *hurt* me. Do you *know* how I felt when I first met her? I've never met anyone I could talk with for a whole day, sharing interests, even hopes and dreams. That first time we completely forgot about eating or sleeping, stayed up until the little hours, just... talking. Bet they assume I was just trying to get into her knickers all the time. Well, they'd be wrong. Not that I minded getting there when I eventually did. *flashes wicked smile*. Yes, she was a natural pinkhead all right.
Anyway, I'm talking beside the point, really. You know she used to work with chemical weapons, lethal bacteria, the worst genetically engineered viruses you could think of? That... I can't say it *shocked* me. Let's just say that it made me think. Of how, despite what I'd been telling myself about every man for himself, I'd still somehow believed in black and white divisions, the good guys and the bad guys, or even just the strong and the weak. She changed all that. Now there she was, this physically fragile yet *enormously* strong girl, kissing me sweetly at night (she tasted of strawberries, you like strawberries, don't you?) and brewing potions that could (and did) kill thousands during the day. And there I was, believing I could somehow turn that knowledge into my... our advantage, getting her on our side. For the first time in *years*, I actually hoped. The stuff in her lab could've helped us rid dozens of planets from Pylene-50.
And then her people had to bugger it all up. Then *I* had to bugger it all up and let her go into the cargo hold alone. Just goes to show you nothing ever goes as planned.
Am I going around in circles, Moley? I guess I am. *shrugs* disappointments, the whole last year. And far too many of those due to my own stupidity. I... I feel guilty over what happened on GP, you know. And I know I should. I *did* recognise Blake. I *did*, perhaps, believe that his bounty hunter routine was a cover for rebel activity. Yet I couldn't trust my instincts, not after everything that had happened. I just *had* to assume the worst. And ruin it all.
Blake says he's forgiven me. I don't think I can ever forgive myself. I see them at night, Moley. Dayna. Soolin. First I see them laughing like they used to when we shared a drink in the rec room together. I remember what Dayna tasted like when she kissed me on Ultraworld. I remember Soolin's perfume, remember the way she used to toss her hair out of her eyes when concentrating. And then I see them fall. I see Blake, Vila bleeding on the floor, Avon numb and still as a statue, and I hear the sickening thuds as the Federation blaster bolts crush both the girls' chests. I remember the pain in my neck, in my side, and I remember *relief* at approaching death... at not having to live with their deaths on my shoulders.
But what do you know. Fate is a cruel bitch. *rubs at neck, where there's still a faint scar from a Federation rifle.* Nobody asked *me* whether I wanted to be alive. And now it seems there's nothing else to do but to try and keep on living. *harsh laugh* if Jenna hasn't planned me a warm welcome on Trantor first. You know, Moley, I'm not sure if I care. I'm trying to be a good man, and that's all there is left. Everything else is... well. *smiles* that's for Fate to decide, isn't it?
All right. I'm tired and going to bed. I'd rather have something warm and soft and living for a bedmate, but you will do for now. *hugs Mr. Moley to chest, and curls up underneath his blanket.*