Saying things outside of the drift is harder than she realized. Her brow furrows and a million thoughts race through her mind; picking a single thing is nearly impossible.
"You will always be my pilot, Hercules Hansen." Her only one.
He kisses her gently, because he's trying to be encouraging and he knows how hard dealing with emotions can be when you're not used to it. Or at least verbalizing them.
He tastes of whiskey and salty tears, and Gipsy's thumbs brush affectionately over his cheeks, needing contact in all available places.
From the moment he'd stepped foor inside that cockpit, he'd been doomed. Neither had known it at the time, but their fate had been sealed the second Stacker insisted on sending Hercules to handle Gipsy's test run.
Hercules had probably known before Gipsy, really, because he had experience with this sort of thing (not the giant robot girlfriend thing, but the being so fascinated with a woman that before you know it you realize you're in love thing). It had seemed cruel to admit to anything when it was certain that they wouldn't make it out alive, but now...
Well. Would it make him a coward to admit that he's a little scared?
Not at all, and if Gipsy were able to see into his mind like she's used to doing, she'd reassure him of that.
But she can't and she doesn't really know what he's thinking, so instead she simply sits here in his arms, her weight a heavy reminder that she's real and solid and no longer a projection or an avatar or a dream of his own conjuring.
Her forehead rests against his and her eyes close; she's savoring this, creating new memories with him instead of relying on the old ones to see her through.
She loves him -- she just doesn't really know how to properly articulate that yet.
She's also a little rattled from having to deal with Raleigh so soon. She hadn't expected that emotional onslaught just yet, though she supposed it was her own fault for not locking the damn door behind her when she'd come in. She'd just...been so eager and excited and terrified that all of her focus had been on the man behind the desk and not the door behind her.
Never let it be said that Hercules isn't intuitive almost to a fault. It's fairly obvious that the mood in the room has shifted dramatically, and he's not going to go around chasing a lost moment. No, he'll just sit here with his arms curled around Gipsy, holding her securely as she rests her forehead against his and tries to sort through her own mind.
Gently, after a minute or two of silence, he finally speaks up.
"Do you want to go back to my rooms?" he asks, rubbing his hand comfortingly over her back. "It's a bit more comfortable in there."
Plus, as is his prerogative now that he's an old man, it's a good place to nap. And Hercules finds that naps tend to make emotionally difficult situations better.
He is not an old man, Gipsy is going to have this argument with him as soon as he says it out loud.
"Yes." She's aware of what 'comfort' is -- before Tendo had 'released her into the wild' (as he'd so tactfully put it), she'd had a room with a small bed and the basic amenities. It seems much preferable than his office, though Gipsy is content enough in his lap.
Still, she slides off and to her feet, extending her hands out to him to pull (it's more like a jerk, she hasn't quite realized her own strength yet) to his feet.
He calls himself an old man all the time, she should be used to it by now.
She yanks him to his feet and he laughs a little at the abruptness of it all, smoothing his hands over his shirt to try and get himself back into a more presentable state for when they leave the room. The tie is a lost cause, though, and he ends up rolling up his sleeves because he can't be arsed to try and do himself back up that much.
"Here, love," he says, holding out her jacket to her.
She takes the offered jacket and drapes it over her arm with a little smile.
"Thank you." She's not going to put it back on -- not yet, because she's still a little tingly and warm from earlier, and it'll probably come off again sooner than later.
She reaches for his hand when he's done, fingers lacing with his.
"You look good, Hercules Hansen." Grey or not, he'll always look good to her.
Yeah, he's going to take it off pretty much immediately once they get into his suite, so it's probably for the best that she doesn't bother with it.
"You look better," he replies, winking at her.
He squeezes her hand and opens the door for them to leave, like it isn't strange at all that Marshal Hercules Hansen, who has lived the past year of his life pretty much like a monk, should be seen walking hand-in-hand with an unfamiliar woman. He doesn't care if people stare, though, because his reputation is worth less to him than Gipsy's comfort.
"Incorrigible," she murmurs, moving out into the hall with him. She's so involved with her pilot that stares? Go unnoticed. They don't know who she is, anyway -- Gipsy's avatar creation had been for them alone and then at the end, Raleigh had broken through her shields and seen everything. The two most important men in her life knew who she was, and that was enough for Gipsy Danger.
It's strange being on this side of things, though -- she's used to towering over every one and every thing -- to go from twenty five stories to five feet ten inches is...jarring.
She holds onto his hand a little more tightly than necessary; the crowd is another thing she's unused to, but there's no incident and Gipsy looks entirely at ease and casually comfortable, her grip on his hand the only thing betraying her.
She's very strong, her grip is punishingly tight, but Hercules doesn't show it if she's hurting him.
He just leads her placidly through the halls like this is an every day occurrence, nodding briefly to the soldiers that snap to attention as he passes by, ignoring the support staff who don't. It's none of their business what he does with his life, or who he does it with.
They manage to make it down to the barracks and to the Marshal's rooms without incident, and the hallway is even totally empty when he unlocks the door and lets her in first.
"Sorry it's a bit messy," he says, closing the door behind him. For Hercules, who has lived his whole life in the military, messy means slightly disorganized. There's a jacket hanging over the back of a chair, and a book lying face-down on the table, but that's about it. He doesn't eat in these rooms, that's what the mess is for, and he still doesn't own a whole lot of personal possessions.
She steps inside and finally releases the crushing grip she had on his hand as she looks around in slight awe. No, it's not much, but that's not something Gipsy realizes. To her, it's a look into the most private sanctum of her most beloved pilot -- where he lives, where he sleeps, where he has his most secret moments.
"It's perfect."
Her hands find everything touchable, from the book, the chair, his jacket, the walls -- Gipsy thoroughly inspects it all. It isn't messy, it isn't too small, it isn't too military.
He didn't realize when he first let her in here that he was nervous about her verdict; but when she tells him it's perfect in that breathy voice of hushed amazement, he lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.
"It's yours too," he blurts out. "That is, if you want to stay with me. I don't know if you have your own rooms."
He's not even really sure how long she's been conscious, maybe they just kept her in the labs downstairs. In which case, he has a lot of yelling to do and some stupid-ass scientists to threaten.
She turns to look at him, blue eyes fixing on his face as she rests her jacket on the back of the chair, right next to his. Her fingers trail over the chair back as she moves closer to him before reaching to touch his elbow instead.
"I have quarters, down with the scientists -- just in case." In case he hadn't wanted her, had rejected her. Her team hadn't really been certain of the Marshal's reaction. After the War Clock stopped, after Operation Pitfall, he'd been understandably different and a little less predictable than he had been before.
"If you'll have me, I'll stay with you." Because she wants to. Desperately.
It looks nice, her jacket hanging next to his. He doesn't often wear the green khaki thing anymore, now that he's got a higher rank he can't get away with his casual pilot gear. But they look nice together.
"Of course I'll have you, love," he protests, reeling her in so he can touch her. This may fade with time, but right now, Hercules apparently wants to have his hands on her all the time, just to make sure she's really real.
"The basement's no place for a pretty girl like you."
You know, said scientists might be the tiniest bit disappointed he's accepted her so easily. She really is a pretty lady and they'd object profusely to saying she has no business in the basement.
But she's only got eyes for the Marshal.
"This is my place," she decides, easily going to him once more. "Right here. With you." She looks up at him and lets her fingers touch his jaw.
Said scientists can keep their grubby paws to themselves. It's bad enough they made her, they know more about her body and her physiology than he does. (Which is something Hercules plans on rectifying thoroughly sometime in the near future.)
He leans in to kiss her lightly, smiling against her lips.
"Now that's what I like to hear," he murmurs, bumping his nose against hers in a fond little nuzzle before pulling back a little.
He doesn't want to. He doesn't like the idea of them knowing things about her that he doesn't. It's not fair. She's his.
He extricates himself from her grasp and takes her hand instead, leading her through the small apartment that counts as 'his space.' It really is small, unfortunately, but whatever, it's got a living room, a small kitchenette, a bathroom (with a real bathtub), and finally, his bedroom. All very spartan, all very neat and tidy, but all his.
Gipsy doesn't care -- it's perfect, like she said. Everything about it is perfect and beautiful and everything she could have wanted. It's his, it's where he's been living and she can feel his presence here in everything that she touches and sees.
"It's just right." Her palm rests on the wall of the bedroom and she looks over her shoulder at him, lips curving into a smile. "I love it."
He steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close against his chest and ducking his head down to kiss the bare cap of her shoulder.
"Have to say, I like it a lot more now that it's got you in it," he murmurs, his hand spreading wide against her belly.
Her head tips back to rest against him; it's reminiscent of the time she appeared behind him in the Drift and pulled him close, holding him tightly against her chest.
"It was missing something," she agreed, hands dropping from the wall to cover his as she leaned against him. "But I'm here, now."
Except this time, there's no mild tinge of disappointment over a failed test, just the jubilant relief of her miraculous return.
"And thank god for that, love," he replies, his lips moving over her shoulder and up her neck to the hinge of her jaw. He's half tempted to find out if he can leave a hickey on her skin, but he's forty-five now, he can't go around doing that kind of thing.
She tips her head so that he's got better access to her skin. It's synthetic, all of her is -- but it reacts and flushes and bruises and feels just like his.
"Do you remember when I found those secret memories?" Of all of his sexual escapades.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-07-20 03:33 pm (UTC)"You will always be my pilot, Hercules Hansen." Her only one.
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Date: 2013-07-20 03:39 pm (UTC)"That's quite an honor, Gipsy."
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Date: 2013-07-20 03:45 pm (UTC)From the moment he'd stepped foor inside that cockpit, he'd been doomed. Neither had known it at the time, but their fate had been sealed the second Stacker insisted on sending Hercules to handle Gipsy's test run.
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Date: 2013-07-20 03:52 pm (UTC)Well. Would it make him a coward to admit that he's a little scared?
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Date: 2013-07-20 03:57 pm (UTC)But she can't and she doesn't really know what he's thinking, so instead she simply sits here in his arms, her weight a heavy reminder that she's real and solid and no longer a projection or an avatar or a dream of his own conjuring.
Her forehead rests against his and her eyes close; she's savoring this, creating new memories with him instead of relying on the old ones to see her through.
She loves him -- she just doesn't really know how to properly articulate that yet.
She's also a little rattled from having to deal with Raleigh so soon. She hadn't expected that emotional onslaught just yet, though she supposed it was her own fault for not locking the damn door behind her when she'd come in. She'd just...been so eager and excited and terrified that all of her focus had been on the man behind the desk and not the door behind her.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:05 pm (UTC)Gently, after a minute or two of silence, he finally speaks up.
"Do you want to go back to my rooms?" he asks, rubbing his hand comfortingly over her back. "It's a bit more comfortable in there."
Plus, as is his prerogative now that he's an old man, it's a good place to nap. And Hercules finds that naps tend to make emotionally difficult situations better.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:10 pm (UTC)"Yes." She's aware of what 'comfort' is -- before Tendo had 'released her into the wild' (as he'd so tactfully put it), she'd had a room with a small bed and the basic amenities. It seems much preferable than his office, though Gipsy is content enough in his lap.
Still, she slides off and to her feet, extending her hands out to him to pull (it's more like a jerk, she hasn't quite realized her own strength yet) to his feet.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:17 pm (UTC)She yanks him to his feet and he laughs a little at the abruptness of it all, smoothing his hands over his shirt to try and get himself back into a more presentable state for when they leave the room. The tie is a lost cause, though, and he ends up rolling up his sleeves because he can't be arsed to try and do himself back up that much.
"Here, love," he says, holding out her jacket to her.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:20 pm (UTC)"Thank you." She's not going to put it back on -- not yet, because she's still a little tingly and warm from earlier, and it'll probably come off again sooner than later.
She reaches for his hand when he's done, fingers lacing with his.
"You look good, Hercules Hansen." Grey or not, he'll always look good to her.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:24 pm (UTC)"You look better," he replies, winking at her.
He squeezes her hand and opens the door for them to leave, like it isn't strange at all that Marshal Hercules Hansen, who has lived the past year of his life pretty much like a monk, should be seen walking hand-in-hand with an unfamiliar woman. He doesn't care if people stare, though, because his reputation is worth less to him than Gipsy's comfort.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:28 pm (UTC)It's strange being on this side of things, though -- she's used to towering over every one and every thing -- to go from twenty five stories to five feet ten inches is...jarring.
She holds onto his hand a little more tightly than necessary; the crowd is another thing she's unused to, but there's no incident and Gipsy looks entirely at ease and casually comfortable, her grip on his hand the only thing betraying her.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:32 pm (UTC)He just leads her placidly through the halls like this is an every day occurrence, nodding briefly to the soldiers that snap to attention as he passes by, ignoring the support staff who don't. It's none of their business what he does with his life, or who he does it with.
They manage to make it down to the barracks and to the Marshal's rooms without incident, and the hallway is even totally empty when he unlocks the door and lets her in first.
"Sorry it's a bit messy," he says, closing the door behind him. For Hercules, who has lived his whole life in the military, messy means slightly disorganized. There's a jacket hanging over the back of a chair, and a book lying face-down on the table, but that's about it. He doesn't eat in these rooms, that's what the mess is for, and he still doesn't own a whole lot of personal possessions.
"But this is it. Home sweet home."
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:38 pm (UTC)"It's perfect."
Her hands find everything touchable, from the book, the chair, his jacket, the walls -- Gipsy thoroughly inspects it all. It isn't messy, it isn't too small, it isn't too military.
It's perfect.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:41 pm (UTC)"It's yours too," he blurts out. "That is, if you want to stay with me. I don't know if you have your own rooms."
He's not even really sure how long she's been conscious, maybe they just kept her in the labs downstairs. In which case, he has a lot of yelling to do and some stupid-ass scientists to threaten.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:48 pm (UTC)"I have quarters, down with the scientists -- just in case." In case he hadn't wanted her, had rejected her. Her team hadn't really been certain of the Marshal's reaction. After the War Clock stopped, after Operation Pitfall, he'd been understandably different and a little less predictable than he had been before.
"If you'll have me, I'll stay with you." Because she wants to. Desperately.
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:51 pm (UTC)"Of course I'll have you, love," he protests, reeling her in so he can touch her. This may fade with time, but right now, Hercules apparently wants to have his hands on her all the time, just to make sure she's really real.
"The basement's no place for a pretty girl like you."
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Date: 2013-07-20 04:59 pm (UTC)But she's only got eyes for the Marshal.
"This is my place," she decides, easily going to him once more. "Right here. With you." She looks up at him and lets her fingers touch his jaw.
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:01 pm (UTC)He leans in to kiss her lightly, smiling against her lips.
"Now that's what I like to hear," he murmurs, bumping his nose against hers in a fond little nuzzle before pulling back a little.
"Wanna see the rest?"
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:05 pm (UTC)"Yes. Show me." She smiles at him when he pulls back, arms firmly settled around his waist.
"I want to see it all."
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:10 pm (UTC)He extricates himself from her grasp and takes her hand instead, leading her through the small apartment that counts as 'his space.' It really is small, unfortunately, but whatever, it's got a living room, a small kitchenette, a bathroom (with a real bathtub), and finally, his bedroom. All very spartan, all very neat and tidy, but all his.
Theirs, now.
"This is it, I'm afraid. Not much to look at."
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:13 pm (UTC)"It's just right." Her palm rests on the wall of the bedroom and she looks over her shoulder at him, lips curving into a smile. "I love it."
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:15 pm (UTC)"Have to say, I like it a lot more now that it's got you in it," he murmurs, his hand spreading wide against her belly.
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:19 pm (UTC)"It was missing something," she agreed, hands dropping from the wall to cover his as she leaned against him. "But I'm here, now."
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:23 pm (UTC)"And thank god for that, love," he replies, his lips moving over her shoulder and up her neck to the hinge of her jaw. He's half tempted to find out if he can leave a hickey on her skin, but he's forty-five now, he can't go around doing that kind of thing.
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Date: 2013-07-20 05:27 pm (UTC)"Do you remember when I found those secret memories?" Of all of his sexual escapades.
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