[This difficult. Horribly so. Watching his face go out light a candle just makes her want to take everything coming back.
Ril pours two cups, carefully, waits. Fixes them, brings them into the room, and sets them down.]
My folk are very free with affection, and even among them I am more so. What I give, I give with all I am, this you know, yes? [She blows on her tea absently.] We are a close knit folk who love without reserve. It is deep and will not fade, no matter the passage of time. When an Antedan takes a true lover, not the sort that would come with a diplomatic engagement, because that is not love, it is...not casual and most marry or remain bonded and very close to their lovers for life. When one of the pair dies there is a physical and mental link broken and the other will pass shortly if there is no intervention.
[Ril's fingers are pale against the deep blue mug she holds as she sinks down next to him.]
You saw that once, with me. You broke the process and you caught me or I would have died. If I had, and the gods had brought me back, I would never have been the same. Not a death from that. You and your Eleventh and your Fourth faces, all of you have caught me. And I never stopped to think exactly what that meant until today.
[Her fingers tremble and she finds a coaster to set her mug down on before continuing.]
I love your faces, all of them, yes? I am not shy at all about this. But your Sixth, yourself, your Eleventh, and your Fourth are different.
[Ril pauses and runs a hand trough her hair, leaving it tousled, and she's not sure how to explain it at all. Tea. She will indulge in tea and think a little, in the meantime, it opens things up for questions.]
[He's not exactly sure what to say at this point, so he listens to her explanation. To what end her explanation is being given, he has no idea. Or, well, he has an idea, but he's keeping it clamped down.
His gaze moves, over her face, down to her trembling hands, watching her fidget. Something is definitely not right. The one human heart in his chest can't decide if it wants to freeze, or start pounding itself to pieces.]
I'm glad to...ah...
[Eight goes to lift his tea, and only gets it halfway to his lips before he sets it down again.]
There was a moment. With your Eleventh self, at his bookstore. I bring him tea, often, that isn't at all out of place. But he was odd and I was odd, and he said--
[Oh this was coming out, no matter what.]
He said that he loved me and that it was funny how the others of you always manage to get to me first. And then he did say that he'd have me if it would be fair. I cannot lie and say that I wouldn't have him if it were fair as well, but what is fair? What does fair mean? I love you, I want you. I love him and want him as well and so it falls the same to your Fourth self. It is Antedan, but it is you. Always you.
[Ril shakes her head and her fingers go to her lips. The words just tumble end over end.]
And I am afraid that it is a terrible thing. I didn't seek this out, but there it is all tangled up inside of me. And the face I would have married is gone and I can't-- I don't know how to explain. I am full of holes and hurt and I all I can do is drown myself in you. You, you, you. And I've seen hurt between yourselves before when there was...was a sharing thing that went badly when Charley returned. I don't want to--
[Eight should have known. Eleven had been the first one of them she'd met, and they do tend to make an impression. Her words settle on him like a weight, and he can only nod for a few moments.
And then, the reminder of Charley, and what he'd done to hurt her, hits him like a slap in the face and his head snaps up, the cup in his hands going back to the table. He has no right to be upset. Not after what he'd done. Yes, Charley had been gone when he'd slept with Rose, but Nine hadn't, and that guilt is still a cold lump in his chest. It's why he's kept his distance from Rose since she returned.]
I...see.
[Maybe. Or maybe he doesn't see at all, but what can he do? This is her culture. They're so open and free with their feelings. What right does he have to say anything about it?]
I'd thought, perhaps, that we'd had...something...
[He shakes his head in return, banishing the thought. Something what? Special? Different? Theirs? It's a stupid notion, now that he thinks about it.]
I don't have any hold on you, Ril, and my assumptions should have no bearing on the choices you make and the people you choose to be with. But... you have to know that we're not exactly the same. We're all the Doctor, but we have our own piece of this life. Our own personalities. We're not--
[Eight clamps his mouth shut before he continues that sentence. Of course she doesn't consider them interchangeable. Alright, so maybe he's a bit more hurt than he wants to admit. Not that he deserves to be.]
I have no right to say anything about this, Ril. I'm...glad he loves you. You deserve to be loved. He's lost his wife, and Inara's gone. Maybe this will be good for him.
[His hands lie flat on the table, as if he's about to push himself to standing, but he can't manage to bring himself to go. So, he remains sitting.]
No. This isn't me choosing, I don't choose to love one of you more, I cannot. I love you the same, but differently. Why is this a concept that is so difficult for folk? I love you, I love you, Doctor, every part of you with all of myself. These aren't just words to say lightly. It isn't something that changes for me, it is a true thing.
[There is a moment where she has to pause to find breath that escapes her and it doesn't truly feel as if she has gotten it back.]
This is no straying of affections, or me saying that you are the same. I love you differently than I love your Sixth face, and I love your other faces differently, too. This is also not me bringing up past indiscretions to wound or to shame. I see nothing wrong with you finding need in another when there was such darkness and I don't see why it was such an issue. There is nothing to feel guilty about. This is why I am being honest now, because I see that it may hurt your more and I--
[She half reaches toward him, uncertain, and her face has gone pale. Her hand settles against his arm and she is trembling and cold and she cannot hold the tears in. A blink makes everything water, blinds her, and sends them scattering down her cheeks.]
When I kiss you I do not think of another, just you. When I am in your bed, I am yours and the love we make is ours alone. I cannot be with anyone the same way I am with you. Not your Sixth self, not your Eleventh, not your Fourth, should anything go that way -- and he may not even know that I care that way.
[Her fingers tighten and the cold feels as if it creeps in on her, trickling up her veins. She has done wrong. To him.]
What we have cannot be replaced nor duplicated and it is more than something. You give me a reason to live, to fight, to hope, to love. I haven't the words to ex--
[She just shakes her head as her throat closes on her.]
[Ah, hell. Eight's eyes follow Ril intently, his face tight with the grief of watching her pain. But what can he do about it? If she wants him not to feel any hurt, how can he give her what she wants? He's not a Cyberman. He can't turn off the natural twinge of pain at the knowledge that his idea of their relationship isn't exactly what her idea had been.
He couldn't stop the emotion from existing, but...he could stop it from spilling out and hurting others. So, Eight swallows down the wounds on his heart (and his pride, if he's honest) and his hand rests over hers, frowning in concern at the coldness of her skin and the tears.]
Don't. Don't do this to yourself. It isn't your fault that our upbringings have been so...different. You can't have expected that I would feel nothing of this, but I'll never ask you to ignore your culture and conform to mine.
[He gives her a lopsided smile, trying to make a weak joke. Maybe that way, she'd think he's alright and would stop shivering. He just couldn't bear it if she got ill again because of his unhappiness.]
Not that I'm not already way out of the realm of what my upbringing taught.
[She shakes her head, wide eyed. He still doesn't understand, she can see it in him. He doesn't get it. Perhaps it is too alien. Ril's eyes catch the light and it sets them afire in a silvery glow as her hand turns until her palm is against his. He is so very warm next to her. For a long moment, she is quiet, just breathing, and thinking.]
I am not doing this to myself, Doctor. This Antedan, this is how it is when-- [Her eyes close and her face is pale as she works on making her words.] I hurt you and you are wounded because of it, by my hand. By my folk. There is a huge difference between not wanting to hurt someone you care for and expecting someone to not feel emotion when you have upended their views on relationships. It is my fault for not talking to you sooner about my people and our way of life.
[She feels old and brittle and worn out, it shows on her face even when she doesn't wish it to.]
I expected your feelings and it did not make this better for the foreknowledge. [Her voice is just loud enough as she leans in.] And if you tell me you are fine, it is a lie.
[Her cold hands touch his cheeks, her thumbs skimming over his cheek bones.] I know you and if I didn't love you it would not reduce me to this. It would not be a true thing.
[His voice isn't angry, just desperate and frustrated.]
If I show that this hurts me -- and yes, I admit, it does...for now -- you start falling back into that shaky, cold illness you had some time ago. I don't want that, so I try to keep those feelings to myself, but you don't want me to do that, either.
Which should I pick? Making you upset with me, or making you ill?
[Then he falls silent, his eyes drifting closed for a moment before he turns his head to press a kiss into the palm of her hand and heave a very, very weary sigh.]
Yes, we should have discussed this earlier. Maybe I knew, in the back of my mind, but I didn't let myself think of it. I just let myself assume that someone...loved only me, after I'd lost...
[The words don't come. Won't find their way around the lump in his throat. Fingers went down to wrap around the little ring hanging by a chain around his neck.]
[Again, she is silent for a long while, still cold, and as weary as he.]
I don't know what you can do, but I am not upset with you. I am frustrated with myself for my-- For my inability to properly inform you of things you should have known because I am not the same species as you. I let you assume by being wrapped up in my own fears, my own grief. It is a grief that will take me, if I let it.
[Ril's fingers close around his knuckles and Charley's ring and her lips find his forehead as her eyes close.]
I disappoint you and I dishonor her. How do I fix this? What is it you wish me to do? After all, it is I who am in the wrong.
Mm. [She bushes her fingers against his lips gently.] I suppose I cannot be anything but what I am. Do-- [Ril is uncertain and is shows in the way she half pulls away from him.] Do you need space? I can-- [She waves helplessly, not sure if she ought leave him be or stay and they are both drained from this. This isn't something she can heal with her hands.]
Of course you can't. You wouldn't be who you are otherwise. And I love who you are.
[He reaches up and grips her hand in his, pressing kisses to her fingertips. His heart aches, yes, but somehow he can't bring himself to be apart from her.]
No. You don't need to go. I...I'm not sure what I want exactly, but I know I don't want you to go away.
I don't want to go, either. [But it's still awkward and she hates that strangeness, the odd foreign element of it that hits her in the gut. She'll never understand it, she knows that. But she loves him and that's not something that can be undone.] Today, then, tonight [her eyes search his face] where and what do you wish me?
[He wishes he could take it all away. He wishes he could just be happy. And maybe he will, in time. For now, it stings. He can't help it. It just does, and nobody will be able to convince him that he doesn't somehow deserves this.
Eight swallows and his fingers squeeze hers gently.]
The only way I leave you is if you tell me to go. [Leaning into him, she can't help but bury herself against him, her lips against his jawline.] I do not like leaving you alone.
I am selfish, too. I know I am. [Her fingertips touch the corners of his lips gently, carefully. She's quiet for a moment and then moves until she's facing him, straddling his lap, her hands cradling his face as she stares into his eyes for a long moment. And then she laughs.]
You're as bad as I am about that, Doctor. [Ril drops a kiss against his lips.] I think 'sometimes' in that sentence must mean something entirely different. [Her words are a soft tease.]
[Still, feelings churn around inside him, but he pushes it all down. What good would it do? His bruised ego is not enough of an ache to cause her such pain.
He forces another smile and rests his forehead against hers.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Ril pours two cups, carefully, waits. Fixes them, brings them into the room, and sets them down.]
My folk are very free with affection, and even among them I am more so. What I give, I give with all I am, this you know, yes? [She blows on her tea absently.] We are a close knit folk who love without reserve. It is deep and will not fade, no matter the passage of time. When an Antedan takes a true lover, not the sort that would come with a diplomatic engagement, because that is not love, it is...not casual and most marry or remain bonded and very close to their lovers for life. When one of the pair dies there is a physical and mental link broken and the other will pass shortly if there is no intervention.
[Ril's fingers are pale against the deep blue mug she holds as she sinks down next to him.]
You saw that once, with me. You broke the process and you caught me or I would have died. If I had, and the gods had brought me back, I would never have been the same. Not a death from that. You and your Eleventh and your Fourth faces, all of you have caught me. And I never stopped to think exactly what that meant until today.
[Her fingers tremble and she finds a coaster to set her mug down on before continuing.]
I love your faces, all of them, yes? I am not shy at all about this. But your Sixth, yourself, your Eleventh, and your Fourth are different.
[Ril pauses and runs a hand trough her hair, leaving it tousled, and she's not sure how to explain it at all. Tea. She will indulge in tea and think a little, in the meantime, it opens things up for questions.]
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His gaze moves, over her face, down to her trembling hands, watching her fidget. Something is definitely not right. The one human heart in his chest can't decide if it wants to freeze, or start pounding itself to pieces.]
I'm glad to...ah...
[Eight goes to lift his tea, and only gets it halfway to his lips before he sets it down again.]
Ril, please, tell me what's wrong.
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There was a moment. With your Eleventh self, at his bookstore. I bring him tea, often, that isn't at all out of place. But he was odd and I was odd, and he said--
[Oh this was coming out, no matter what.]
He said that he loved me and that it was funny how the others of you always manage to get to me first. And then he did say that he'd have me if it would be fair. I cannot lie and say that I wouldn't have him if it were fair as well, but what is fair? What does fair mean? I love you, I want you. I love him and want him as well and so it falls the same to your Fourth self. It is Antedan, but it is you. Always you.
[Ril shakes her head and her fingers go to her lips. The words just tumble end over end.]
And I am afraid that it is a terrible thing. I didn't seek this out, but there it is all tangled up inside of me. And the face I would have married is gone and I can't-- I don't know how to explain. I am full of holes and hurt and I all I can do is drown myself in you. You, you, you. And I've seen hurt between yourselves before when there was...was a sharing thing that went badly when Charley returned. I don't want to--
[She sits and shakes her head helplessly.]
I do not hurt those I love.
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[Eight should have known. Eleven had been the first one of them she'd met, and they do tend to make an impression. Her words settle on him like a weight, and he can only nod for a few moments.
And then, the reminder of Charley, and what he'd done to hurt her, hits him like a slap in the face and his head snaps up, the cup in his hands going back to the table. He has no right to be upset. Not after what he'd done. Yes, Charley had been gone when he'd slept with Rose, but Nine hadn't, and that guilt is still a cold lump in his chest. It's why he's kept his distance from Rose since she returned.]
I...see.
[Maybe. Or maybe he doesn't see at all, but what can he do? This is her culture. They're so open and free with their feelings. What right does he have to say anything about it?]
I'd thought, perhaps, that we'd had...something...
[He shakes his head in return, banishing the thought. Something what? Special? Different? Theirs? It's a stupid notion, now that he thinks about it.]
I don't have any hold on you, Ril, and my assumptions should have no bearing on the choices you make and the people you choose to be with. But... you have to know that we're not exactly the same. We're all the Doctor, but we have our own piece of this life. Our own personalities. We're not--
[Eight clamps his mouth shut before he continues that sentence. Of course she doesn't consider them interchangeable. Alright, so maybe he's a bit more hurt than he wants to admit. Not that he deserves to be.]
I have no right to say anything about this, Ril. I'm...glad he loves you. You deserve to be loved. He's lost his wife, and Inara's gone. Maybe this will be good for him.
[His hands lie flat on the table, as if he's about to push himself to standing, but he can't manage to bring himself to go. So, he remains sitting.]
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[There is a moment where she has to pause to find breath that escapes her and it doesn't truly feel as if she has gotten it back.]
This is no straying of affections, or me saying that you are the same. I love you differently than I love your Sixth face, and I love your other faces differently, too. This is also not me bringing up past indiscretions to wound or to shame. I see nothing wrong with you finding need in another when there was such darkness and I don't see why it was such an issue. There is nothing to feel guilty about. This is why I am being honest now, because I see that it may hurt your more and I--
[She half reaches toward him, uncertain, and her face has gone pale. Her hand settles against his arm and she is trembling and cold and she cannot hold the tears in. A blink makes everything water, blinds her, and sends them scattering down her cheeks.]
When I kiss you I do not think of another, just you. When I am in your bed, I am yours and the love we make is ours alone. I cannot be with anyone the same way I am with you. Not your Sixth self, not your Eleventh, not your Fourth, should anything go that way -- and he may not even know that I care that way.
[Her fingers tighten and the cold feels as if it creeps in on her, trickling up her veins. She has done wrong. To him.]
What we have cannot be replaced nor duplicated and it is more than something. You give me a reason to live, to fight, to hope, to love. I haven't the words to ex--
[She just shakes her head as her throat closes on her.]
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He couldn't stop the emotion from existing, but...he could stop it from spilling out and hurting others. So, Eight swallows down the wounds on his heart (and his pride, if he's honest) and his hand rests over hers, frowning in concern at the coldness of her skin and the tears.]
Don't. Don't do this to yourself. It isn't your fault that our upbringings have been so...different. You can't have expected that I would feel nothing of this, but I'll never ask you to ignore your culture and conform to mine.
[He gives her a lopsided smile, trying to make a weak joke. Maybe that way, she'd think he's alright and would stop shivering. He just couldn't bear it if she got ill again because of his unhappiness.]
Not that I'm not already way out of the realm of what my upbringing taught.
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I am not doing this to myself, Doctor. This Antedan, this is how it is when-- [Her eyes close and her face is pale as she works on making her words.] I hurt you and you are wounded because of it, by my hand. By my folk. There is a huge difference between not wanting to hurt someone you care for and expecting someone to not feel emotion when you have upended their views on relationships. It is my fault for not talking to you sooner about my people and our way of life.
[She feels old and brittle and worn out, it shows on her face even when she doesn't wish it to.]
I expected your feelings and it did not make this better for the foreknowledge. [Her voice is just loud enough as she leans in.] And if you tell me you are fine, it is a lie.
[Her cold hands touch his cheeks, her thumbs skimming over his cheek bones.] I know you and if I didn't love you it would not reduce me to this. It would not be a true thing.
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[His voice isn't angry, just desperate and frustrated.]
If I show that this hurts me -- and yes, I admit, it does...for now -- you start falling back into that shaky, cold illness you had some time ago. I don't want that, so I try to keep those feelings to myself, but you don't want me to do that, either.
Which should I pick? Making you upset with me, or making you ill?
[Then he falls silent, his eyes drifting closed for a moment before he turns his head to press a kiss into the palm of her hand and heave a very, very weary sigh.]
Yes, we should have discussed this earlier. Maybe I knew, in the back of my mind, but I didn't let myself think of it. I just let myself assume that someone...loved only me, after I'd lost...
[The words don't come. Won't find their way around the lump in his throat. Fingers went down to wrap around the little ring hanging by a chain around his neck.]
But...now what? What comes now? What do I do?
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[Again, she is silent for a long while, still cold, and as weary as he.]
I don't know what you can do, but I am not upset with you. I am frustrated with myself for my-- For my inability to properly inform you of things you should have known because I am not the same species as you. I let you assume by being wrapped up in my own fears, my own grief. It is a grief that will take me, if I let it.
[Ril's fingers close around his knuckles and Charley's ring and her lips find his forehead as her eyes close.]
I disappoint you and I dishonor her. How do I fix this? What is it you wish me to do? After all, it is I who am in the wrong.
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[There's a little smile again, but it's less forced and more just tired.]
As always, time will heal all wounds. You've done all you could do by telling me now.
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[He reaches up and grips her hand in his, pressing kisses to her fingertips. His heart aches, yes, but somehow he can't bring himself to be apart from her.]
No. You don't need to go. I...I'm not sure what I want exactly, but I know I don't want you to go away.
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[Her eyes close and she swallows.]
I am yours, Doctor, that will never change.
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Eight swallows and his fingers squeeze hers gently.]
Just...don't leave. Stay with me tonight.
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I've had centuries alone, Ril.
[He relaxes a bit and chuckles.]
And you're going to have to leave me alone sometime, if I'm to share my time with you.
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I know, I know. But I don't like leaving you alone, all the same. I worry.
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[There's a little shrug and a self-deprecating smile.]
But I can be selfish sometimes.
No need to worry about me. Even I can stay out of trouble...sometimes.
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You're as bad as I am about that, Doctor. [Ril drops a kiss against his lips.] I think 'sometimes' in that sentence must mean something entirely different. [Her words are a soft tease.]
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Yes, you're probably right.
[Still, feelings churn around inside him, but he pushes it all down. What good would it do? His bruised ego is not enough of an ache to cause her such pain.
He forces another smile and rests his forehead against hers.]
Never forget I love you, will you?
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[And there's a bright pause.]
Often and for a long, long time.
[Her fingertips stroke his cheeks gently.]
Very often.