![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rememoryAfter a full day on D-level, an intimate dinner for two goes somewhat awry.
Although they had accepted that for the moment, the station posed no particular threat, Scott had yet to return to his own quarters for regular use. They'd fallen into a domestic routine, in those few short days, that consisted of the spirits scouting the station for people they knew and things they might wish to acquire, Scott doing any necessary acquiring with the credits that they generally pooled, Sabine doing the cooking even when it consisted of only of goop-doctoring, and Missy watching the proceedings with a generally imperious air and sitting on whatever lap made itself available between meals.
Tonight was little different.
After the construction crew had gone and they repaired to her--Sabine worked hard to remind herself that they were only 'their' quarters temporarily and in an excessively literal sense--quarters for the evening, she washed up and then relocated to her kitchenette to make dinner. The only difference lay in the fact that she'd cooked dinner specifically for Scott, after having made food for him and everyone that generally accorded with his tastes and ease. An intimate dinner for two might blur the boundaries of their relationship a little, she supposed, but no more than sharing quarters (and a bed) or any of the dozens of ways they'd done so in the past.
So when Scott emerged into the kitchen, Sabine's smile though warm and personal wasn't flirtatious or otherwise inappropriate. "Still hungry, hero?" She'd decided to call him that, and until he told her not to, she would continue to. In fact, she might continue even if he did tell her not to.
He wasn't sure what the 'hero' was all about, but she was smiling so he wasn't going to jinx it. "Oddly, yes," Scott said lightly. "I think I spent too much time watching and working."
"Nothing to do with that Summers metabolism, hm?" She turned away from him to return to the kitchen space with a gesture toward the table to indicate he should sit. "Just as well I saved dinner for us, then."
"Did you really? It did smell good." He settled, agreeable enough to be in her company for the evening. A number of their guests had been very interesting, and some of them had been quite pleasant. Didn't mean that having that many new-ish people around hadn't been a bit of a strain. Old habits were hard to break.
Sabine made a noncommittal but pleased sound as she set the second course to warm. The first, she brought to the table while it did. She had, in fact, saved some of the corn and black bean and fresh peppers salad, because the crisp flavors would be a nice complement to the other more mellow or piquant ones. So that appeared on the already set table, and then from her far hand, hidden temporarily from his view, she produced hand-smashed guacamole, with the replicator's best effort at blue corn chips, and real fresh lime slices. "I might have fibbed, slightly," she said, as she set it in front of him.
Scott told himself it would be rude to drool. Told himself very firmly. "Good God," he said, blinking. "This looks... amazing." He looked up at her, a bit quizzically, although his smile was growing. "I may make a pig of myself. I feel obligated to warn you."
"No greater compliment to a chef." She did her damnedest to ignore the way his pleasure lit her up, how good it felt to see him happy for a few minutes and know she'd had a hand in it. It didn't stop the warmth of it bleeding into her eyes and her smile. "Besides, I cooked for you." Before she could add on anything more, Sabine shut her mouth and told herself she was over him.
"Thank you," Scott said simply, telling himself not to overdo it. Don't make it awkward, Summers. He plucked a chip out of the pile and tried the guacamole. "...that would be just the right amount of heat," he said, almost wistfully. There hadn't been that many people back at the mansion who enjoyed spicy food as much as he did.
"Bless," Sabine replied and turned away to hide the strength of her reaction in the act of ladling out the soup. "It's actually fairly simple to make, even here." She rattled off the ingredients as a way of holding her own focus, and then topped the black bean soup with a swirl of replicated sour cream. "Getting the replicator to make corn chips was the hardest part."
This time when she set the bowl of soup to hand, she had one for herself and sat to join him. "There's another course, but it will keep while we eat."
Black bean soup, too? Scott immediately had to taste that, as well. "...since when did you become an actual miracle worker?" he asked almost playfully.
Sabine rejected her immediate reply, the next was worse, and the next even worse and finally went back to the first. "Since you needed me to." If it was less playful than Scott's response, it was honest. Both of them functioned best when someone they loved needed them, and what pulled her out of bed into productive forward movement was that he needed her to be getting better. So she was.
"Well, it's much appreciated." The wistful smile lingered, but his eyes were warm as they met hers (after a pause for more of the soup, of course). "I've missed proper southwestern food. Upstate New York didn't do it very well. Duninnean... well, better left unspoken, I suppose."
"I'm surprised Dani never made it for you." Sabine inclined her head slightly, thoughtfully, as she considered that and then straightened it to eat without spilling soup down her cleavage. That wouldn't make things awkward at all. "Unless she didn't know..." She blinked as it occurred to her. "Does anyone know besides me?" And Jean, of course, but Scott generally had seemed disinclined to talk about her, and Sabine didn't press. Eventually, if they were stuck here, they'd have to, but she hadn't come close to giving up yet.
Scott gave a little shrug. "Never really came up," he admitted. "There haven't been that many people in my life who've sought out intel on my personal tastes."
"It isn't intel," she protested, then bit her lip at the unnecessary vehemence of the comment. "I don't want you to think this is manipulative or that I'm trying to... you know. But I do love you and trying to keep you well and as happy as possible is who I am."
Scott looked genuinely distressed at her words and reached across the table to take her hand. "I didn't mean it that way, I swear. Stupid choice of words. This is wonderful, and I'm very grateful."
Sabine glanced at their joined hands and then back up at Scott, sighing. "I know, caro. I do. There's just..." They hadn't talked about Jean, they hadn't talked about Shola, she hadn't told him about the bond. It wasn't like her to keep things from Scott, and she didn't like it. "A lot we haven't talked about and some things I should probably tell you that I've been...waiting for a better time for. I don't know if there's going to be a better time, though."
"You can tell me anything you need to. I'm not going anywhere," Scott said, relaxing a little despite the slightly ominous comment from Sabine.
Strangely relieved, Sabine set down her spoon and spit out the whole mouthful at once. "You're going to have to talk to me about Jean eventually, Shola confessed he loved me on Valentine's Day too, and we've been building something together, but in spite of and maybe above all that, I'm pretty sure you and I have a psi-bond and that Jean was suppressing it and that it's getting stronger every day."
For a long moment, Scott actually just blinked at her as he tried to process... all of that. Finally, one hand coming up slowly to rub at his jaw and his eyes still a little wider than they should be, he managed a reply. "... probably," he conceded slowly, "and... uh, I'm just horrified at my timing on Valentine's Day, now. As for the last bit... really?"
"Second part's easy." Sabine let out a breath and noted that yes, she was much more relaxed now that she wasn't keeping anything back from him. "Don't be horrified. The fact that Shola and I had just made up for some lost time--" More delicately than she would usually put it, but where things stood between she and Scott, igniting arousal with anything more literal might cause a real problem because of the last bit. "Meant I could face what you had to say with any measure at all of grace. You wouldn't be the man I love so much--" She wasn't going to stop saying that, because even if they won't home tomorrow, it would always be true and more to the point, Scott needed all the love he could get. "If you'd left your wife for me. But that didn't stop my heart from bleeding for it."
"... I made a mess of a great many things," Scott said, trying not to sigh. "The fact that you still care for me in spite of it seems like a blessing I don't deserve. But... well," and if his mouth twisted it was in frustration at how hard this was to say, still. "Nothing's changed, for me. In how I feel about you."
"Nothing will ever change for me," she replied softly. "I thought it had, because of Shola, but I was only distracted." The moment had grown too full and too fraught, but her hand wouldn't obey her brain's instinct to pause and eat. "It's all right, Scott. You're human. Both Jean and I fell in love with that. And both of us forgive you the complications of it." Now she did deliberately pause for a spoonful of soup, and it was clear from the decisiveness of it that she meant to impose a bit of emotional distance--for a moment, a breath, if she could. "It's a wonder that you can stand to look at me, with the havoc my feelings for you have caused."
"I was already a mess, Sabine." His smile was warm but somehow rueful at the same time. "I can regret adding to it, but... I can't regret loving you."
A flush of awkwardness and guilt, but above all steady, determined Scottness for lack of a better word crept over her, confirming her suspicions. "I don't regret it either. Although if I'd known loving you meant my mind would turn that one-time load-sharing link into a permanent bond, I probably wouldn't have let that happen. I'm sorry, caro. I don't know how it's going to affect you."
"I have a fairly hardy brain," Scott said, deliberately sticking to a wry tone, although the look he was giving her was pure, unwavering encouragement. "We'll take it day by day. Like we're taking everything here. Only sensible way forward."
He had survived worse than her, by far. That was true. Although she didn't, which reminded her. "I wondered why I didn't shut down as soon as quarantine opened." She should have, with the loss of Shola on top of Ada and Leah. "It was you. My mind reached for a familiar path and found you." Which explained how he'd found her just as she was shutting down, probably without the slightest awareness that he'd been following a link. And it explained why the torn bonds weren't crippling her. "How bad is your headache?"
"My standards for headache pain are a little out of whack," Scott said after a moment, considering the question. "I generally have at least a bit of one, all the time... I'm not noticing anything out of the ordinary today." Although it had been worse, before today. He'd written it off to stress.
"If it gets worse, tell me? I can do some meditation exercises that should help." Frowning briefly, Sabine gestured to the soup. "Eat. Nothing we have to talk about needs us to starve while doing it." To make the point, she spooned up some soup herself. After, she allowed, "I suppose Jean had the right to suppress the bond, but I find I'm angry that she never told either of us, especially you."
Scott obediently turned his attention back to his soup, but the comment made him wince. "I... hope she didn't do it deliberately?" he offered, not quite lamely. "Sometimes, with telepaths that strong, things can be instinctive..."
"Possible," Sabine agreed and decided not to press the matter. After all, she formed links instinctively, so it was possible. Plus, attacking the man's wife made her sound like a shrew. "Protecting the people we love isn't something most psis have to think very hard about." Maybe that was why their bond had gotten stronger so fast. She worried about him here on the station. "Even me."
"I'm... honestly glad it's there," Scott said after a moment, and meant it. "In this sort of situation, that kind of connection will help keep us both safe." He applied himself to the soup. No point in letting it get cold.
Sabine finally found a hint of a smile again for that. "It is handy," she told him as she stood to retrieve the chiles rellenos from the warmer. On her way past him, she brushed her fingers against his shoulder with a familiar and comforting affection. "For example, if you try to tell me you're fine, I'll automatically know when it's bullshit."
His lips twitched again, almost helplessly. "It isn't always. Right now, for instance..."
Sabine wondered whether that right now was for the food or for the touch, but she elected not to ask. "Mm, yes. Right now you're almost happy." She fetched the food from the warmer to bring back to the table. "Almost."
"I don't do happy very well," Scott confessed, still striving for a light tone. "Character flaw. Poor upbringing, whatever you want to call it."
She returned to the table and set the platter of chile rellenos within easy reach and then settle opposite him again. "I have met you, caro," came a light, soft tease. "A lifetime ago, we had a conversation about you learning what you enjoy. Might I suggest you use however much time we have here to do that? For my own part, I fully intend to dedicate myself to reacquainting you with happiness." Recognizing abruptly how presumptuous that sounded, she dipped her gaze away from his face but declined to amend her statement.
There was a distinct gleam in his eyes at the sight of the chile rellenos, but he re-focused on her. "I ought to be wanting to claw my own skin off out of frustration," he said very candidly. "Being stuck here, with no apparent way home... I'm wondering if it's the bond with you that's helping with that."
"I felt that." The gleam in his eyes, the pleasure in the food. It wasn't, she didn't think, anything like Dani experienced. She just sort of felt linked to Scott, more aware of him and his emotions. It didn't overwhelm her at all. "Help yourself when you're ready," she added before considering his question. "I guess it could be the bond. If I'm somewhere else, say down in the market, do you feel more agitated?" It wouldn't surprise her if distance had a strong impact on them; the Soul Train couldn't get too far away without feeling the strain.
"More," Scott said after a moment, considering, "but not excessively." He had most definitely felt better when Sabine had reappeared. He reached out to transfer one of the chiles to his plate, still mulling it over in his mind. "It's a different feel than the link with Jean..." Was? Is? Would be, if they ever got home again. "I suppose that makes sense. You're a different kind of psi."
"And the link with Shola," Sabine agreed. She hadn't finished her soup, so she didn't take a chile relleno yet, but kept eating slowly. She didn't have Scott's metabolism and didn't need to eat as much as he did. "The only link I'm theoretically capable of initiating with a living person is the load-sharing link. It should be temporary, although Nathan says it's virtually unbreakable even for psis unless I release it." One on one anyway. The larger number of links, the less control she had over any particular one. "The link I have with the ghosts is temporary, too. It lets me speak to them and feel their pain. I wonder..."
"What your ability's theoretically capable of doing and what it can do after Cortez might be two different things," Scott pointed out. The chile relleno was absolutely delicious, but he told himself to eat it slowly. Savor it. Even if he was surprisingly hungry tonight. All that construction work, I guess.
Sabine stood one more time and went back into the kitchen. "Don't turn around, please." It wasn't a game. She needed to test a theory.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "All right," he said mildly, and set his utensils down (just in case).
Before she could think twice about it, Sabine drew the sharpest kitchen blade across her palm. Not scalpel-sharp, it caught at her skin, more tearing than slicing. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound and listened, watched and felt for Scott's reaction while the blood welled.
She didn't have long to wait; he was out of his chair so fast it toppled over backwards. "What the hell, Sabine?" he asked in obvious agitation, launching himself to her side in the kitchen and cursing at the sight of her hand. He took her wrist and grabbed the closest thing he could find - some sort of dish towel, from the looks of it.
"I had to know," she replied simply, and trusted Scott to know that a lesser injury might not have sufficed. Tears welled in parti-coloured eyes, not from the pain. Pain she could withstand, but the roughness in his voice and his touch...that? Cut to the bone even with her knowledge he didn't mean it. It occurred to her to wonder if his grip, his agitation, were part of a feedback look, but then he was pressing a towel to her hand and that was enough to pull her back. "And so did you. It's a vulnerability." And I won't be responsible for you being hurt any more than I already am.
"It felt strange," he muttered, still agitated. "Like a burn, not a cut... but I knew exactly what you'd done."
"Don't be upset with me, please." The note of pleading in her voice was painful to her own ears, and confirmation... "I can feel it." He was linked to her like a human, like load-share, and she was linked to him as though he were a ghost, with an unhelpful feedback loop.
"I'm not upset." It wasn't entirely a lie. "Not really," Scott amended with a sigh, pulling the towel back a little to check. Blood was still welling up, and he re-applied pressure, then looked up and met her eyes. "It is what it is," he said. "You might consider it a vulnerability. I would tend to think of it as an early warning system."
"Either way, it isn't the sort of thing I'd want to discover when we're under attack. Now that I know, I can talk to--" She'd been about to say "talk to Nathan about it" and the pain of that wasn't something a towel or a hug could heal. "Maybe Molly and I can work something out," she added after, somewhat lamely.
"If you think she can help, yes." It didn't even occur to him to question it; he trusted Sabine's judgement about people, much moreso than his own.
"She's not Nathan or Dani, but..." She was who they had, and Sabine did trust her. "You can stop worrying about the cut now. The infirmary's probably busy, but once I'm seen, it'll be like new." And she would go herself if he let her, give him time to process and stop being angry with her for hurting herself.
"Do you want me to come with you?" was Scott's immediate reaction. Then he hesitated, uncertain, not wanting to... crowd or push her. Think, don't just react.
Yes, was her overwhelming emotional response, but she managed to shrug instead. "You needn't. Missy's perfectly happy to have you here now. And, you'll know if anything happens." Her lips twisted into a bitterly wry half-smile. She hated to be disingenuous with him, of all peope, but she'd already given him reason enough to resent her for one night.
"If you're absolutely sure." He couldn't quite read that, one way or the other. "But Sabine..." He caught her eyes, his smile a little strained but his steel-blue gaze firm. "I am all right with this. I am. If it turns out to be an issue for you, or an issue in general, we'll deal with it together, but for right now, don't worry about me."
"You are now," she said quietly, not looking at him, because no matter how much she loved Shola, she knew now, she'd never be "over" Scott. You didn't get over the kind of connection they had. "But when we get home and you want to go back to your wife, rebuild your marriage, be happy with her, you won't be." Shola would understand and never be upset with her, but Jean...Scott was hers even when she didn't seem to want him very much.
"That's the future. We have to deal with the now." Scott did want to go with her to the infirmary, but he was getting the sense that a little time apart, for both of them, might not be the worst thing right this second. "You should get that looked at," he said, inclining his head at her hand. "I'll keep the food warm, if you want."
Sabine shook her head. "Eat if you're hungry. No telling when I'll be back," she told him, and then walked past him to go out.
Although they had accepted that for the moment, the station posed no particular threat, Scott had yet to return to his own quarters for regular use. They'd fallen into a domestic routine, in those few short days, that consisted of the spirits scouting the station for people they knew and things they might wish to acquire, Scott doing any necessary acquiring with the credits that they generally pooled, Sabine doing the cooking even when it consisted of only of goop-doctoring, and Missy watching the proceedings with a generally imperious air and sitting on whatever lap made itself available between meals.
Tonight was little different.
After the construction crew had gone and they repaired to her--Sabine worked hard to remind herself that they were only 'their' quarters temporarily and in an excessively literal sense--quarters for the evening, she washed up and then relocated to her kitchenette to make dinner. The only difference lay in the fact that she'd cooked dinner specifically for Scott, after having made food for him and everyone that generally accorded with his tastes and ease. An intimate dinner for two might blur the boundaries of their relationship a little, she supposed, but no more than sharing quarters (and a bed) or any of the dozens of ways they'd done so in the past.
So when Scott emerged into the kitchen, Sabine's smile though warm and personal wasn't flirtatious or otherwise inappropriate. "Still hungry, hero?" She'd decided to call him that, and until he told her not to, she would continue to. In fact, she might continue even if he did tell her not to.
He wasn't sure what the 'hero' was all about, but she was smiling so he wasn't going to jinx it. "Oddly, yes," Scott said lightly. "I think I spent too much time watching and working."
"Nothing to do with that Summers metabolism, hm?" She turned away from him to return to the kitchen space with a gesture toward the table to indicate he should sit. "Just as well I saved dinner for us, then."
"Did you really? It did smell good." He settled, agreeable enough to be in her company for the evening. A number of their guests had been very interesting, and some of them had been quite pleasant. Didn't mean that having that many new-ish people around hadn't been a bit of a strain. Old habits were hard to break.
Sabine made a noncommittal but pleased sound as she set the second course to warm. The first, she brought to the table while it did. She had, in fact, saved some of the corn and black bean and fresh peppers salad, because the crisp flavors would be a nice complement to the other more mellow or piquant ones. So that appeared on the already set table, and then from her far hand, hidden temporarily from his view, she produced hand-smashed guacamole, with the replicator's best effort at blue corn chips, and real fresh lime slices. "I might have fibbed, slightly," she said, as she set it in front of him.
Scott told himself it would be rude to drool. Told himself very firmly. "Good God," he said, blinking. "This looks... amazing." He looked up at her, a bit quizzically, although his smile was growing. "I may make a pig of myself. I feel obligated to warn you."
"No greater compliment to a chef." She did her damnedest to ignore the way his pleasure lit her up, how good it felt to see him happy for a few minutes and know she'd had a hand in it. It didn't stop the warmth of it bleeding into her eyes and her smile. "Besides, I cooked for you." Before she could add on anything more, Sabine shut her mouth and told herself she was over him.
"Thank you," Scott said simply, telling himself not to overdo it. Don't make it awkward, Summers. He plucked a chip out of the pile and tried the guacamole. "...that would be just the right amount of heat," he said, almost wistfully. There hadn't been that many people back at the mansion who enjoyed spicy food as much as he did.
"Bless," Sabine replied and turned away to hide the strength of her reaction in the act of ladling out the soup. "It's actually fairly simple to make, even here." She rattled off the ingredients as a way of holding her own focus, and then topped the black bean soup with a swirl of replicated sour cream. "Getting the replicator to make corn chips was the hardest part."
This time when she set the bowl of soup to hand, she had one for herself and sat to join him. "There's another course, but it will keep while we eat."
Black bean soup, too? Scott immediately had to taste that, as well. "...since when did you become an actual miracle worker?" he asked almost playfully.
Sabine rejected her immediate reply, the next was worse, and the next even worse and finally went back to the first. "Since you needed me to." If it was less playful than Scott's response, it was honest. Both of them functioned best when someone they loved needed them, and what pulled her out of bed into productive forward movement was that he needed her to be getting better. So she was.
"Well, it's much appreciated." The wistful smile lingered, but his eyes were warm as they met hers (after a pause for more of the soup, of course). "I've missed proper southwestern food. Upstate New York didn't do it very well. Duninnean... well, better left unspoken, I suppose."
"I'm surprised Dani never made it for you." Sabine inclined her head slightly, thoughtfully, as she considered that and then straightened it to eat without spilling soup down her cleavage. That wouldn't make things awkward at all. "Unless she didn't know..." She blinked as it occurred to her. "Does anyone know besides me?" And Jean, of course, but Scott generally had seemed disinclined to talk about her, and Sabine didn't press. Eventually, if they were stuck here, they'd have to, but she hadn't come close to giving up yet.
Scott gave a little shrug. "Never really came up," he admitted. "There haven't been that many people in my life who've sought out intel on my personal tastes."
"It isn't intel," she protested, then bit her lip at the unnecessary vehemence of the comment. "I don't want you to think this is manipulative or that I'm trying to... you know. But I do love you and trying to keep you well and as happy as possible is who I am."
Scott looked genuinely distressed at her words and reached across the table to take her hand. "I didn't mean it that way, I swear. Stupid choice of words. This is wonderful, and I'm very grateful."
Sabine glanced at their joined hands and then back up at Scott, sighing. "I know, caro. I do. There's just..." They hadn't talked about Jean, they hadn't talked about Shola, she hadn't told him about the bond. It wasn't like her to keep things from Scott, and she didn't like it. "A lot we haven't talked about and some things I should probably tell you that I've been...waiting for a better time for. I don't know if there's going to be a better time, though."
"You can tell me anything you need to. I'm not going anywhere," Scott said, relaxing a little despite the slightly ominous comment from Sabine.
Strangely relieved, Sabine set down her spoon and spit out the whole mouthful at once. "You're going to have to talk to me about Jean eventually, Shola confessed he loved me on Valentine's Day too, and we've been building something together, but in spite of and maybe above all that, I'm pretty sure you and I have a psi-bond and that Jean was suppressing it and that it's getting stronger every day."
For a long moment, Scott actually just blinked at her as he tried to process... all of that. Finally, one hand coming up slowly to rub at his jaw and his eyes still a little wider than they should be, he managed a reply. "... probably," he conceded slowly, "and... uh, I'm just horrified at my timing on Valentine's Day, now. As for the last bit... really?"
"Second part's easy." Sabine let out a breath and noted that yes, she was much more relaxed now that she wasn't keeping anything back from him. "Don't be horrified. The fact that Shola and I had just made up for some lost time--" More delicately than she would usually put it, but where things stood between she and Scott, igniting arousal with anything more literal might cause a real problem because of the last bit. "Meant I could face what you had to say with any measure at all of grace. You wouldn't be the man I love so much--" She wasn't going to stop saying that, because even if they won't home tomorrow, it would always be true and more to the point, Scott needed all the love he could get. "If you'd left your wife for me. But that didn't stop my heart from bleeding for it."
"... I made a mess of a great many things," Scott said, trying not to sigh. "The fact that you still care for me in spite of it seems like a blessing I don't deserve. But... well," and if his mouth twisted it was in frustration at how hard this was to say, still. "Nothing's changed, for me. In how I feel about you."
"Nothing will ever change for me," she replied softly. "I thought it had, because of Shola, but I was only distracted." The moment had grown too full and too fraught, but her hand wouldn't obey her brain's instinct to pause and eat. "It's all right, Scott. You're human. Both Jean and I fell in love with that. And both of us forgive you the complications of it." Now she did deliberately pause for a spoonful of soup, and it was clear from the decisiveness of it that she meant to impose a bit of emotional distance--for a moment, a breath, if she could. "It's a wonder that you can stand to look at me, with the havoc my feelings for you have caused."
"I was already a mess, Sabine." His smile was warm but somehow rueful at the same time. "I can regret adding to it, but... I can't regret loving you."
A flush of awkwardness and guilt, but above all steady, determined Scottness for lack of a better word crept over her, confirming her suspicions. "I don't regret it either. Although if I'd known loving you meant my mind would turn that one-time load-sharing link into a permanent bond, I probably wouldn't have let that happen. I'm sorry, caro. I don't know how it's going to affect you."
"I have a fairly hardy brain," Scott said, deliberately sticking to a wry tone, although the look he was giving her was pure, unwavering encouragement. "We'll take it day by day. Like we're taking everything here. Only sensible way forward."
He had survived worse than her, by far. That was true. Although she didn't, which reminded her. "I wondered why I didn't shut down as soon as quarantine opened." She should have, with the loss of Shola on top of Ada and Leah. "It was you. My mind reached for a familiar path and found you." Which explained how he'd found her just as she was shutting down, probably without the slightest awareness that he'd been following a link. And it explained why the torn bonds weren't crippling her. "How bad is your headache?"
"My standards for headache pain are a little out of whack," Scott said after a moment, considering the question. "I generally have at least a bit of one, all the time... I'm not noticing anything out of the ordinary today." Although it had been worse, before today. He'd written it off to stress.
"If it gets worse, tell me? I can do some meditation exercises that should help." Frowning briefly, Sabine gestured to the soup. "Eat. Nothing we have to talk about needs us to starve while doing it." To make the point, she spooned up some soup herself. After, she allowed, "I suppose Jean had the right to suppress the bond, but I find I'm angry that she never told either of us, especially you."
Scott obediently turned his attention back to his soup, but the comment made him wince. "I... hope she didn't do it deliberately?" he offered, not quite lamely. "Sometimes, with telepaths that strong, things can be instinctive..."
"Possible," Sabine agreed and decided not to press the matter. After all, she formed links instinctively, so it was possible. Plus, attacking the man's wife made her sound like a shrew. "Protecting the people we love isn't something most psis have to think very hard about." Maybe that was why their bond had gotten stronger so fast. She worried about him here on the station. "Even me."
"I'm... honestly glad it's there," Scott said after a moment, and meant it. "In this sort of situation, that kind of connection will help keep us both safe." He applied himself to the soup. No point in letting it get cold.
Sabine finally found a hint of a smile again for that. "It is handy," she told him as she stood to retrieve the chiles rellenos from the warmer. On her way past him, she brushed her fingers against his shoulder with a familiar and comforting affection. "For example, if you try to tell me you're fine, I'll automatically know when it's bullshit."
His lips twitched again, almost helplessly. "It isn't always. Right now, for instance..."
Sabine wondered whether that right now was for the food or for the touch, but she elected not to ask. "Mm, yes. Right now you're almost happy." She fetched the food from the warmer to bring back to the table. "Almost."
"I don't do happy very well," Scott confessed, still striving for a light tone. "Character flaw. Poor upbringing, whatever you want to call it."
She returned to the table and set the platter of chile rellenos within easy reach and then settle opposite him again. "I have met you, caro," came a light, soft tease. "A lifetime ago, we had a conversation about you learning what you enjoy. Might I suggest you use however much time we have here to do that? For my own part, I fully intend to dedicate myself to reacquainting you with happiness." Recognizing abruptly how presumptuous that sounded, she dipped her gaze away from his face but declined to amend her statement.
There was a distinct gleam in his eyes at the sight of the chile rellenos, but he re-focused on her. "I ought to be wanting to claw my own skin off out of frustration," he said very candidly. "Being stuck here, with no apparent way home... I'm wondering if it's the bond with you that's helping with that."
"I felt that." The gleam in his eyes, the pleasure in the food. It wasn't, she didn't think, anything like Dani experienced. She just sort of felt linked to Scott, more aware of him and his emotions. It didn't overwhelm her at all. "Help yourself when you're ready," she added before considering his question. "I guess it could be the bond. If I'm somewhere else, say down in the market, do you feel more agitated?" It wouldn't surprise her if distance had a strong impact on them; the Soul Train couldn't get too far away without feeling the strain.
"More," Scott said after a moment, considering, "but not excessively." He had most definitely felt better when Sabine had reappeared. He reached out to transfer one of the chiles to his plate, still mulling it over in his mind. "It's a different feel than the link with Jean..." Was? Is? Would be, if they ever got home again. "I suppose that makes sense. You're a different kind of psi."
"And the link with Shola," Sabine agreed. She hadn't finished her soup, so she didn't take a chile relleno yet, but kept eating slowly. She didn't have Scott's metabolism and didn't need to eat as much as he did. "The only link I'm theoretically capable of initiating with a living person is the load-sharing link. It should be temporary, although Nathan says it's virtually unbreakable even for psis unless I release it." One on one anyway. The larger number of links, the less control she had over any particular one. "The link I have with the ghosts is temporary, too. It lets me speak to them and feel their pain. I wonder..."
"What your ability's theoretically capable of doing and what it can do after Cortez might be two different things," Scott pointed out. The chile relleno was absolutely delicious, but he told himself to eat it slowly. Savor it. Even if he was surprisingly hungry tonight. All that construction work, I guess.
Sabine stood one more time and went back into the kitchen. "Don't turn around, please." It wasn't a game. She needed to test a theory.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "All right," he said mildly, and set his utensils down (just in case).
Before she could think twice about it, Sabine drew the sharpest kitchen blade across her palm. Not scalpel-sharp, it caught at her skin, more tearing than slicing. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound and listened, watched and felt for Scott's reaction while the blood welled.
She didn't have long to wait; he was out of his chair so fast it toppled over backwards. "What the hell, Sabine?" he asked in obvious agitation, launching himself to her side in the kitchen and cursing at the sight of her hand. He took her wrist and grabbed the closest thing he could find - some sort of dish towel, from the looks of it.
"I had to know," she replied simply, and trusted Scott to know that a lesser injury might not have sufficed. Tears welled in parti-coloured eyes, not from the pain. Pain she could withstand, but the roughness in his voice and his touch...that? Cut to the bone even with her knowledge he didn't mean it. It occurred to her to wonder if his grip, his agitation, were part of a feedback look, but then he was pressing a towel to her hand and that was enough to pull her back. "And so did you. It's a vulnerability." And I won't be responsible for you being hurt any more than I already am.
"It felt strange," he muttered, still agitated. "Like a burn, not a cut... but I knew exactly what you'd done."
"Don't be upset with me, please." The note of pleading in her voice was painful to her own ears, and confirmation... "I can feel it." He was linked to her like a human, like load-share, and she was linked to him as though he were a ghost, with an unhelpful feedback loop.
"I'm not upset." It wasn't entirely a lie. "Not really," Scott amended with a sigh, pulling the towel back a little to check. Blood was still welling up, and he re-applied pressure, then looked up and met her eyes. "It is what it is," he said. "You might consider it a vulnerability. I would tend to think of it as an early warning system."
"Either way, it isn't the sort of thing I'd want to discover when we're under attack. Now that I know, I can talk to--" She'd been about to say "talk to Nathan about it" and the pain of that wasn't something a towel or a hug could heal. "Maybe Molly and I can work something out," she added after, somewhat lamely.
"If you think she can help, yes." It didn't even occur to him to question it; he trusted Sabine's judgement about people, much moreso than his own.
"She's not Nathan or Dani, but..." She was who they had, and Sabine did trust her. "You can stop worrying about the cut now. The infirmary's probably busy, but once I'm seen, it'll be like new." And she would go herself if he let her, give him time to process and stop being angry with her for hurting herself.
"Do you want me to come with you?" was Scott's immediate reaction. Then he hesitated, uncertain, not wanting to... crowd or push her. Think, don't just react.
Yes, was her overwhelming emotional response, but she managed to shrug instead. "You needn't. Missy's perfectly happy to have you here now. And, you'll know if anything happens." Her lips twisted into a bitterly wry half-smile. She hated to be disingenuous with him, of all peope, but she'd already given him reason enough to resent her for one night.
"If you're absolutely sure." He couldn't quite read that, one way or the other. "But Sabine..." He caught her eyes, his smile a little strained but his steel-blue gaze firm. "I am all right with this. I am. If it turns out to be an issue for you, or an issue in general, we'll deal with it together, but for right now, don't worry about me."
"You are now," she said quietly, not looking at him, because no matter how much she loved Shola, she knew now, she'd never be "over" Scott. You didn't get over the kind of connection they had. "But when we get home and you want to go back to your wife, rebuild your marriage, be happy with her, you won't be." Shola would understand and never be upset with her, but Jean...Scott was hers even when she didn't seem to want him very much.
"That's the future. We have to deal with the now." Scott did want to go with her to the infirmary, but he was getting the sense that a little time apart, for both of them, might not be the worst thing right this second. "You should get that looked at," he said, inclining his head at her hand. "I'll keep the food warm, if you want."
Sabine shook her head. "Eat if you're hungry. No telling when I'll be back," she told him, and then walked past him to go out.
