Jet Link | 002 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metalicarus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2013-06-02 03:20 pm
metalicarus) wrote in makinglies2013-06-02 03:20 pm
Entry tags:
You cannot change what you are, only what you do.
The room was too quiet. The only sound that accompanied his thoughts was the ticking of the clock on the wall and that was too loud. It reminded him that time would keep moving even if he sat here, nothing was going to change just because he didn't move and, most of all, time only ever moved onwards.
As much as he may want to, he couldn't wind back the clock and undo what had been done. He didn't regret his decision to fly into space and save his best friend, without him Joe would have drifted forever and none of them would have seen him again, at least now Francoise wouldn't have to cry anymore. But...maybe it would have been better if he hadn't been saved, if he'd just died like he'd been prepared to do. Of course, sitting there, alive, it was harder to find that kind of resolve again. But, in the end, what was the cost of his living?
He looked down at his hands and how his wrists ended in the crease of a panel, the first sign of a difference. His eyes followed up from his wrist to his shoulders and then back down his own chest, creases ran along the surface of his too-pale skin like a web. They were closed now, but he knew it only took a second, a thought, and nearly all of them could flair up, open, or even separate to allow him better maneuverability and speed.
He knew this was like Pyunma, the doctor had only been trying to save him, to make him stronger. But he wasn't like the eighth cyborg, he couldn't have plated armor to defend from hits; he needed to be fast and light and aerodynamic. What he now had in speed and evasiveness he had gained at the cost of the defense he didn't have much of to begin with. He'd always been light on defense and built more for the get in quick and hit hard tactic rather than the barrel through approach for Albert or G, but he felt fragile and he hated it. Logically, he knew he could still take a hit better than most people, but he would have to rely more on not being hit in comparison to what he'd had before.
It was frustrating beyond belief, he didn't want to feel like this...and he certainly didn't want to look like this. He understood now, what his partners had been through and how they felt about being mostly machine. And it sucked. But it was more than even that. He looked up and into the mirror across the room where someone unrecognizable stared back. Blue eyes, finer features, and blonde hair stood out like beacons and he couldn't take his eyes off of them. Part of him thought that maybe, if he looked long enough and hard enough, he'd be able to see something that told him yes this was still Jet Link...but he hadn't found it yet.
Everyone always said it was what was inside that counted, not outside, but when you couldn't recognize anything of yourself, it was like you were in someone else's body, like one of those movies where it's some mistake and by the end of it everything would be back to normal. Except there wasn't an ending like that waiting for him, only blue eyes, blonde hair, and panels.
As much as he may want to, he couldn't wind back the clock and undo what had been done. He didn't regret his decision to fly into space and save his best friend, without him Joe would have drifted forever and none of them would have seen him again, at least now Francoise wouldn't have to cry anymore. But...maybe it would have been better if he hadn't been saved, if he'd just died like he'd been prepared to do. Of course, sitting there, alive, it was harder to find that kind of resolve again. But, in the end, what was the cost of his living?
He looked down at his hands and how his wrists ended in the crease of a panel, the first sign of a difference. His eyes followed up from his wrist to his shoulders and then back down his own chest, creases ran along the surface of his too-pale skin like a web. They were closed now, but he knew it only took a second, a thought, and nearly all of them could flair up, open, or even separate to allow him better maneuverability and speed.
He knew this was like Pyunma, the doctor had only been trying to save him, to make him stronger. But he wasn't like the eighth cyborg, he couldn't have plated armor to defend from hits; he needed to be fast and light and aerodynamic. What he now had in speed and evasiveness he had gained at the cost of the defense he didn't have much of to begin with. He'd always been light on defense and built more for the get in quick and hit hard tactic rather than the barrel through approach for Albert or G, but he felt fragile and he hated it. Logically, he knew he could still take a hit better than most people, but he would have to rely more on not being hit in comparison to what he'd had before.
It was frustrating beyond belief, he didn't want to feel like this...and he certainly didn't want to look like this. He understood now, what his partners had been through and how they felt about being mostly machine. And it sucked. But it was more than even that. He looked up and into the mirror across the room where someone unrecognizable stared back. Blue eyes, finer features, and blonde hair stood out like beacons and he couldn't take his eyes off of them. Part of him thought that maybe, if he looked long enough and hard enough, he'd be able to see something that told him yes this was still Jet Link...but he hadn't found it yet.
Everyone always said it was what was inside that counted, not outside, but when you couldn't recognize anything of yourself, it was like you were in someone else's body, like one of those movies where it's some mistake and by the end of it everything would be back to normal. Except there wasn't an ending like that waiting for him, only blue eyes, blonde hair, and panels.
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He accepted the patching material with a small but grateful smile and worked at getting the amount he needed. Joe's statement makes him pause but he just moves to pluck the bottle out of his friend's hand. "Yeah...sorry about that." He was decidedly ignoring that last bit, otherwise his response would have been a bit more defensive.
He knew Joe didn't mean anything more or less than what he was saying, he was honest and earnest to the point of being easily annoying. It was that earnestness that just made Jet self-conscious.
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"I just don't get why Albert didn't wait for back up to go get you."
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The real answer was that he knew exactly why, it was the same reason he wouldn't have waited if the situation had been switched.
It was something terrifying and electrifying, something he'd known for a while without actively thinking about it, something he'd nearly expressed only minutes before when it would have been far too late in coming if Ivan hadn't saved them.
His only outward response is to pause a moment as all this runs through his mind before continuing his own patch job, not once looking over to Joe, especially not when he asks the question he hopes will give Joe his answer. "If Frannie got kidnapped and was in danger, would you wait around to go after her?"
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Hard for him not to considering it was just the point he was trying to drive home with Jet. He'd been watching for it and seen the spark of recognition in Jet's face. Joe's grin collapses into a soft, knowing smile and he leans back in his chair, tipping it on the hind legs just a bit in a decidedly teenage posture he rarely ever displays anymore with anyone aside from Jet. There's something about sitting around with his best friend that just puts Joe at ease, as if none of the baggage of the last three decades ever happened.
"Have you told him?"
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The answer was no and the only reason was because, for who knew what reason, he hadn't been able to tell Albert. He'd tried, he knew he'd tried, but he'd always just hoped his actions would speak the words he couldn't string together.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, decidedly not looking at his best friend; he didn't think he could be honest with that much earnestness being poured out at him. The truth was: Joe wasn't stupid, he knew Jet as well as Frannie did, in some cases even better; he could probably guess Jet was only asking his question out of a desire to avoid the answer a little longer. "No. I don't know. It's not that simple."
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So with Jet and Albert having been together for some time even before their 27 year split, and back together for awhile since then, it's beyond Joe how Jet could hold it in. It's obvious the two love each other, so what's the hold up?
Francoise said it's simply because they're "stupid boys" the one time Joe had mentioned it to her and that had been her entire explanation. Not exactly helpful. "Don't you want to tell him? I mean, he sort of holed up all on his own after you left. That's what they tell me, anyway."
He'd been made to reenter high school over and over and wasn't present for some of it, but Geronimo and Francoise had filled him in once they'd gotten some breathing room after His Voice. "They didn't see him very much. Francoise thought it was because of his work with the German government but Pyunma said Albert had more leeway than anyone else since he's mostly just a special instructor."
Joe leans in almost conspiratorially, as if imparting a great secret. "It sounds to me like he didn't want to be around if you were gone."
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"I've never said it to anyone before." That seemed like a silly reason, but to him it was what made it intimidating. He knew it was all build-up from things around him, but it was one of those things that seemed so final, so solid, it put something out there that he couldn't take back in time if something tried to crush it. Just the thought made him feel vulnerable; it was easier to just not say anything at all.
But it wasn't going to be crushed, was it. Maybe when they'd first been starting out, it would've been too soon with how new everything was and Hilda and the way their lives were, but time had passed and while their lives weren't a walk in the park, things were more stable. What Joe had said about Albert pulling away, the rescue mission that had just transpired, the memory of how tightly the German had held onto Jet even after punching him full in the face. Almost as if, if he let go, Jet would leave again.
No, if anything, it'd make more sense for Albert to feel that way, to feel like he might have something to lose if he put himself out there. It was Jet who had nearly died twice, who always seemed to get himself into a position where he got hurt. Jet was the one always leaving. And it was Jet who needed to stop being a coward.
He finally looked over to Joe, the hesitation and sliver of fear he'd had moments before replaced with a quiet determination that lay behind the warm look he had to offer his friend. "Thanks, Joe." For more than just helping with his repairs, but for also doing that thing of his where he knocked some sense into the blond with barely a nudge.
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With that, Joe claps his hands on his knees and stands. "I've got to go. Francoise needs to be in France before tomorrow night. She's dancing at one of the little venues in Avo... Aver..." He makes a strange face trying to pronounce the town name and eventually gives up.
"Some town outside Paris. You can get Albert home on your own, right?" Is that a mischievous grin? Possibly. He bumps Jet's shoulder gently with his fist in a show of camaraderie and heads for the door. "I'll see you soon, ok?"
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If he hadn't been thinking about everything they'd just discussed and what he felt like he needed to do right that second, he might have turned a teasing remark of his own on the teen.
Instead, he was already getting up and off to find a shirt for himself before going to wait for Gilmore to finish with Albert. Even by the time he'd gotten a new shirt and stood, back to the wall opposite the door to the lab, Gilmore still hadn't finished.
Whatever, he'd wait, neither of them were facing down the barrel of a gun this time. Besides, now that he was there, alone, and only a relatively thin piece of metal between himself and Albert, there was a small coil of nerves nestling itself in his stomach. He'd do it, he would. He just needed to not chicken out.
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With a pat to Jet's knee, Gilmore continues on his way, wondering under his breath if Kozumi has already gone to bed (this being 5 in the evening. So late!) and if his partner kept dinner warm.
He left the door to the lab open.
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He'd had an hour to stew over what he wanted to do, what he wanted to say, and still he hadn't gotten past the basic goal of the conversation. Every time he thought he had found some decent way to approach it, he scrapped the idea moments later.
Why did this have to be so hard? Normal people on a normal day in normal relationships had no problems with it...not that they were normal, but Frannie and Joe seemed to manage just fine, why did his tongue have to twist and tie itself at the thought?
With a sigh of self-annoyance, he pushed away from the wall and stepped into the lab, his eyes instantly going to where Albert lay. He crossed the room in silence, trying to appear calm while his mind buzzed. "Hey. How're you feeling?"
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It was strangely comforting at the time.
Now he turns his head as Jet comes in, the last dregs of the sedatives weening out of his system as he moves to sit up, smiling at the American gently as he gets close. "Better. More in one piece. What about you?"
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He moved to sit next to Albert, a bit of space between them, but not too much, while he quieted the buzzing by focusing on the first thing that came to mind. He didn't have a plan for this conversation, so he'd just have to go with whatever came out of his mouth and hope it was good enough. "I'm glad you're okay...and, as dumb as it was, I'm glad you came for me. I thought...I guess I thought I wouldn't see you or any of the others again." He kept his eyes on his hands in his lap, his voice even though the fear of dying alone and forgotten still pulled at his memory. "I was afraid you'd think I'd just gone again and give up on me. I mean, I can see why. I guess what I'm trying to get out is thank you for not thinking that, whatever reason it was you didn't, I appreciate it."
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Even if he tries, and oh God did he ever try. Burying himself in work with the GSG, trying every hobby or sport known to mankind, trying to ignore that just a small ocean away was someone who'd managed to crawl into that empty space at his core that he thought would never be filled again. But that's Jet, breaking all the rules, pulling him every which way.
And he needs it, Albert's come to understand. He needs Jet's fire to keep him young, to keep him engaged and not folding in on himself. He needs Jet to remind him to let go sometimes, to take off and let life take care of itself for awhile. And in turn, Jet needs him to keep him tethered, to remind him not to fly so high that he can't come back down.
To rescue him when gravity fails.
Still somewhat drowsy, Albert leans against Jet's shoulder. "You made me a promise and I believed you."
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Jet had made a promise to stay and Albert believed him...but the fact he'd had to make the promise at all was what pushed him to keep going with his plan that wasn't really a plan at all. Maybe finally saying it wouldn't change anything, but it couldn't hurt. Maybe that solidness that seemed so daunting was exactly what they needed.
His grip tightened and he kept his gaze on the color contrast of metal and synthetic skin. "There's something else. Something I have to try and say, so bare with me a bit. When we were in that warehouse, I thought we were gonna bite it. There was something I wanted to say...and it wasn't the thing about the Maltese Falcon, it was something else. It's not the first time I thought about saying it, either, but right then it seemed like a really bad time to finally get up the courage for it. But...when I was talking with Joe earlier, he said some things that made me realize that maybe that wasn't the best time cause I should've said it sooner. I don't know."
He was rambling, just like that night in Albert's safe house, he was just spilling out words like a river and hoping they made more sense outside of his head than they did in. He shrugged the shoulder Albert wasn't leaning against. "It's dumb 'cause I've tried to say it in the past and it just never worked, but maybe I wasn't trying hard enough. Honestly, I don't even know if it matters that I say it, but--" But he was circling around and around it like he always did, saying everything but what he actually wanted to say the same way he usually did. He'd come this far. "...fuck it. Albert...I love you. Have for a long time, I guess, so I figure now's better than never to tell you. You know, before we nearly get shot to hell again."
Oh yeah, perfect execution. His face burned hot and the words were weird but not really unpleasant on his tongue, but now it was out there and up for Albert to decide what to do with it. At least he didn't have to worry about it getting stomped on or anything. He was 99% certain, anyway.
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But something strange comes over him when they're finally out there. He thought he could just take it in stride. It doesn't change anything. It's something they've known for so long now, how they feel for each other, but those three little words have such power on their own and these two men are not known for sharing their feelings readily.
Albert doesn't respond right away. He needs a moment to breathe first, to take it in, to make sure he really did hear what he'd been certain Jet was going to say. He needs a moment to pull Jet in close and kiss him slowly, tenderly, showing exactly his response. He doesn't pull away right away when he comes up for air, instead resting his forehead against Jet's and keeping his eyes closed feeling instead of seeing his partner.
"I love you too."
The words are whispered back, kept just for them to hear, to hold, to keep.
It's strengthening to hear and even more so to say and he gives another, slower and more gently chaste kiss after.
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There was something else, another feeling he wasn't expecting and it seemed sort of silly, but it was also kind of nice, so he wasn't going to mock it. He'd expressed his feelings because he wanted to erase any doubt Albert still had about Jet wanting to stay at his side. He didn't know if he'd accomplished that and he didn't want to ask, but what he wasn't expecting was a feeling of being tethered, like the words had tied him down to the very man who constantly made certain Jet didn't fly too high. It was the thing needed to push the remaining feelings of separation that the last 27 years had caused out.
It was more than likely all in his head, but it was a surprisingly pleasant feeling so he took it. Finally, he pulled away a bit, his volume low but still audible. "Let's go home."