It’s a nice enough day, sun shining as a soft breeze blows through the young trees that grow up around the apartment complex Jacob Keyes resides in. But it’s not something Catherine notices as she walks up to his door. She looks weighed down. defeated, eyes distant. Her thoughts are anywhere but here. Whatever is behind that door will either make her day, or break it, and she’s not sure if she can handle that again.
Again.
He hasn’t been the same since the war, since the Flood, since the antidote, hasn’t been the man she fell for so many years ago. Instead, there are gaps, pieces missing, moments where he stops and stares and loses everything but himself, and sometimes even that. She’s not sure what to do with it.
With a heavy sigh, she enters the apartment, expecting silence and solitude. But there’s Jacob on the couch, and she notes right away that he’s making some kind of small motion with his shoulders, something almost imperceptible.
Moving closer, she notes that he’s turning that idiotic pipe over in his hands, a replica of the one he lost in the war, a gift from her that he currently seems confounded by.
“Jacob?”
No response. Another sigh, and she swallows a lump in her throat.
“Admiral Keyes?”
Which finally makes him snap to attention, standing and turning and looking at her with dead eyes and a weak smile. There’s nothing there, no recognition, no little light of hope for several long moments.
“I’m sorry...” She waits for him to finish, waits for that moment when he always--”Catherine.” But he sounds uncertain, like maybe she’s not exactly who he thinks she is. Like maybe she’s not real.
It makes her sick, so sick that her shoulders hunch and her head lowers, and it’s all she can do to stand there and take it. To let herself be forgotten. These sort of severe moments are so few and far between, but it’s watching the love of her life waste away that nearly kills her every time.
“Sit down,” she says, voice firm and commanding, not a hint of gentleness. That seems to snap him back, and he smiles, then frowns, then sits.
“I did it again.”
“You did,” she murmurs, dropping her things haphazardly behind the couch and moving to sit beside him. She can’t be offended. She has no right. Like she always does, she touches his cheek, presses a kiss to his temple as she pulls him down to rest his head on her lap.
“Just go to sleep,” she murmurs. “We’ll worry about it later.”
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ninetydegrees
halsey x jacob | halo AU
16/5/13 02:49 (UTC)Again.
He hasn’t been the same since the war, since the Flood, since the antidote, hasn’t been the man she fell for so many years ago. Instead, there are gaps, pieces missing, moments where he stops and stares and loses everything but himself, and sometimes even that. She’s not sure what to do with it.
With a heavy sigh, she enters the apartment, expecting silence and solitude. But there’s Jacob on the couch, and she notes right away that he’s making some kind of small motion with his shoulders, something almost imperceptible.
Moving closer, she notes that he’s turning that idiotic pipe over in his hands, a replica of the one he lost in the war, a gift from her that he currently seems confounded by.
“Jacob?”
No response. Another sigh, and she swallows a lump in her throat.
“Admiral Keyes?”
Which finally makes him snap to attention, standing and turning and looking at her with dead eyes and a weak smile. There’s nothing there, no recognition, no little light of hope for several long moments.
“I’m sorry...” She waits for him to finish, waits for that moment when he always--”Catherine.” But he sounds uncertain, like maybe she’s not exactly who he thinks she is. Like maybe she’s not real.
It makes her sick, so sick that her shoulders hunch and her head lowers, and it’s all she can do to stand there and take it. To let herself be forgotten. These sort of severe moments are so few and far between, but it’s watching the love of her life waste away that nearly kills her every time.
“Sit down,” she says, voice firm and commanding, not a hint of gentleness. That seems to snap him back, and he smiles, then frowns, then sits.
“I did it again.”
“You did,” she murmurs, dropping her things haphazardly behind the couch and moving to sit beside him. She can’t be offended. She has no right. Like she always does, she touches his cheek, presses a kiss to his temple as she pulls him down to rest his head on her lap.
“Just go to sleep,” she murmurs. “We’ll worry about it later.”