Nightcap (1/1)
Title: Nightcap
Pairing: Wash/Taylor, Guzman/Mira
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rated: PG
Word Count: 554
Summary: Moments of retrospection as two men indulge in alcohol to numb their pain. Pre-series.
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Wash/Taylor -
Things had been different the past couple of weeks. A sort of tangible distance settling between them, a barrier that rose higher and higher with each passing day.
What had it been exactly that compelled her to voice her feelings for him that night he couldn’t be sure and for that he had only himself to blame. He had cut her off once he realized where the conversation was headed and had spoken to her as if she were nothing more than some adolescent girl with inappropriate feelings.
He had been too harsh, too direct in his dismissal. He had been cruel if he were being honest but he hadn’t meant to hurt her, simply wanted to dissuade her of her conviction because loving him was the biggest mistake she could ever make.
He ran a hand through his short hair and leaned back in his chair. The command center was deserted of personnel. A bottle of whiskey and a glass tumbler his only companions rested on his desk in front of him. As he reached for and raised the half empty glass to his lips he saw the ring it left behind. Suddenly an old anecdote came to his mind- the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Where exactly did liars fall in Dante’s nine circles of hell anyway?
He sighed heavily. He would never be good enough for her. And if this was the means to an end he'd take it because he refused to be responsible for the death of another woman he loved. He couldn’t bare it if history repeated itself.
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Guzman/Mira -
He hadn’t deluded himself into believing that things would work themselves out, that the situation with the Sixers wasn’t as volatile as the Commander and his second-in-command had described during their morning briefing after they were alerted to the sabotage of their convoy by enemy hands.
But he was loathe to admit that the Sixers were in fact enemies if only (the most superficial of reasons) because that meant he had failed to recognize the very fact while they had been right under his nose.
In his home.
A part of his life.
The lonely dinners and cold nights spent in a bed too large for just one person left him with too much time on his hands. Time where his mind wandered back to all the moments he’d shared with Mira, recalling instances when things had seemed just a little...off. Strange. Instances when his gut had told him there was more to the story, her guilty expression all but confirming his suspicions. But these were rare occasions. So few and far between in fact that he allowed himself to forget about their existence.
But love did not blind him to her transgressions. He was angry. She had betrayed him and everything he stood for. Yet the truth was that he still loved her. Just as strongly as before. Nothing had changed that. He didn’t think anything could.
And as he sat at the table, unaccompanied as usual, glass of red wine in his hand and empty dinner plate in front of him, he realized that were it not for his daughter and were it not for his pride, he’d welcome Mira back with open arms.
And he hated himself for it.