Chapter Text
you're honestly glad nobody's gone overboard with your home. it's a far cry from where you used to live, but there's some familiar objects to help out with the novelty. it's a somewhat expensive house, all to yourself. you haven't bothered exploring enough to know the amount of bathrooms, and you certainly weren't listening intently enough to the person selling it to remember. you had a few simple demands, and they were filled, so you were satisfied.
you're resting on the sofa. the television is playing the news; what various researchers are doing with the taumoeba you've handed over, death tolls from an ongoing famine, the winner of a presidential election, and so on. it's interesting, but the volume and brightness are too low to make out the details.
the lights in the living room are off, too. you think you're falling asleep. your eyes keep drooping down, breathing slowing down, but you change positions often enough to stave off the fatigue. it wouldn't be the least comfortable place you've sl—
the doorbell rings loudly.
you jump from the noise. breathe out slowly to get your heart rate down. haven't you told everyone to not press that thing? you ought to disable it, at this point. you grumble your thoughts out loud while approaching the door. you press down on a small, white button. “codeword?” you ask.
it's a bit annoying, but you can accept extra security in exchange for most of your wishes granted. you receive a curt answer back. “memory, sir.”
you hum positively and flick the small lever to open the door. after some seconds, you hear a few pairs of footsteps approaching. you can't make out exactly how many, and wait for the knocks on your door. when they come, you happily open up.
“yes?”
there's two soldiers on both sides of the hallway. between them stands eva stratt. she's looking downward, expression unreadable. you have to press your finger nail into your palm behind your back to avoid the sick smile creeping up.
the soldier on the left speaks. “we are here to give you who you requested; eva stratt of germany, the former petrova taskforce director.”
you step aside and open the door fully to let them guide her in, then hold out your hand expectantly. one of the two lets out a little sound of hesitancy, but hands over a metal ring with a set of keys hanging from it.
you take the handle of the door. “will that be all?”
they both nod and make quick work of leaving. you shut the door and flick the lever back to lock up once they're both gone. you turn to eva.
she's still facing away from you, head tilted towards the TV. her clothes are a bit raggedy, but in better condition than you expected. her hair seems to have been cut recently, too. you're just annoyed about her being gloveless in winter, but fine. you won't stir up any trouble about it.
you walk back to your spot on the sofa and motion for eva to follow with the hand holding her keys. you sit down, crossing one leg over the other, and wait for her to make her way over.
she glances over at the couch and chairs nearby, unsure of where to sit, and settles for standing in front of you. you speak sweetly to her. “i'm so glad to see you, eva. i've missed you so much, especially ever since getting the extra fuel from rocky—i've been waiting to see you every day since then...”
she doesn't respond. it's to be expected, of course. she's trying to figure out what the safest path for her is, since your mental state has obviously only gotten so much worse since launch. a decade or three later, you're essentially holding the reigns to her very life.
you just smile softly at her. ever the strategist, even now. you lift the ring of keys up and take the middle one into your fingers. “give me your hands?”
she reaches them both towards you. the cuffs are a bit too tight for your liking, attached to each other by a thick hinge. you waste no time in slotting the key into the hole on the left cuff, turning it until the cuff springs open. you take her wrist before she can retract it and rub the red line encircling it.
her eyes are still neutral, just watching you. “not gonna talk?” you try. “i mean, i didn't go through too much trouble to get you here, but i certainly did to get back to earth at all. thought you would've been happy to see me.”
she pauses. you take the key again and slot it into the other cuff. she lets her free hand fall to her side, and speaks with a hoarse voice. “i am,” she swallows. “happy to see you, that is.” you beam at her, and the other cuff falls off smoothly. she speaks again when you soothe the aches on that wrist, too. “how has dr. gr—”
the force of your hit sends her right to the floor.
your hand stays in the air, palm open. you stare at her for some seconds. then come to your senses. eva suppresses the flinch that comes when your hands near her face again, and lets you cradle the cheek you just slapped.
“oh, did i hurt you? i'm so sorry, i'm sorry eva, i just got so angry and— oh, look at you, i'm so sorry.” you try to soothe the ache gently. there's fragility in your voice; it sounds like you'll start crying if you're not forgiven. you drop down to her level quickly, rushing the words out.
“you just started talking about ryland, a—and i felt so hurt, and i just thought what about me? you? or—or us? but i'm so sorry sweetheart, i'd never hurt you, i promise, you were just being so cruel.”
eva's eyes are strictly glued to the ground. she breathes slowly, hands steady at her sides. carefully, she looks up at you again. you think she'll bite her tongue and stay quiet, but eventually, she responds. “right... yes, i... i apologize, ma'am.”
she looks like she's praying you won't respond as harshly. it makes your broken heart ache even more. “it's okay, i know, you're just worried—oh, i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have gotten so mad, it's okay,” you cradle her face in your hands so gently that she almost forgets your strength. the empty stare and stern tone you give her next reminds her.
“keeping the other ones on would suffice as discipline, right?”
you look at her leg cuffs. they're connected by a longer chain to allow for walking, but not running.
she notes down a rule in her head, don't change topics to something possibly unsafe, and nods.
the white noise of the news still playing is a comfort she hopes you'll let her keep. you've gone back to smiling so innocently now. “oh, but, you shouldn't be so formal with me... ma'am makes it seem like we're strangers, y'know?”
huh, okay. there's something she can push. “of course, doctor.”
you don't respond, smile fading back to that stare devoid of humanity. her hand twitches to protect herself, and she hurries out your first name now. she swallows, tries again more steadily. you take her hands into yours and speak fondly again. lesson learned, she supposes. don't push when it comes to direct commands like that.
“there we go. your stuff should be delivered by tomorrow, so we can look through it then together and see what we need to buy, okay?”
together. meaning that you'll most certainly keep for yourself what you don't approve of. “that's fine.” she agrees. it's not like she has much, anyway. the most she'll lose is a jail-given laptop.
you sit up, back on the sofa. she stays on the floor to avoid anymore anger. you seem happy with her, so she'll try her best to keep you that way. “where do you want to sleep?”
she breathes in, should she ask?
“alone.”
you stare at her for a few seconds, and she fears you might hurt her again, but you don't move.
“okay,” you nod. you offer her a hand up to stand. she has to use some effort and avoids leaning on you too much, but gets back to standing with you. you tug off her coat and set it down, taking her hand in yours again. your voice is softer, smaller, and she's not sure how to feel about that. “i'll show you your room.”
she lets you lead her up the stairs and to a single person bedroom. she admits, it's spacious, and far nicer than she thought it might be. you tell her about the closet, the desk, the TV, and not about locking the door when you step outside.
at least this bed feels nice. it's so soft, so warm, that she can almost pretend she's at peace.
—
by the end of the first week, eva's gotten a good grasp on what rules to live by.
firstly, don't bring up people you haven't already talked about. dr. grace is safe now, but she's willing to bet you don't want to hear about him too often.
secondly, to allow whatever physical affection you want to give. you only go as far as short kisses on the cheek or forehead, so it's not been particularly difficult. she doesn't have to reciprocate, but finds herself doing so more often than not for a bit of comfort when it comes to hugs or handholding.
thirdly, ask for permission. the computer you bought is easy enough; you're the only one who knows the password, so she couldn't use it anyway. but other things like snacks or the bathroom are a bit more annoying. it's not like you ever deny her requests, so she just doesn't see the point in it. but fine, all in all, they're relatively easy rules to live by.
she's gotten used to the lock on her door each night. to the feeling of constantly being watched, not to catch mistakes, but just because you enjoy looking at her. to the way you move around like a ghost, setting down breakfast next to her each morning while she's still fast asleep. to your rather incessant snooping through her things.
she doesn't comment on it. she doesn't think she ever will. it's not like this is particularly new behaviour, after all; the level of it is certainly new, but you've always been a bit too fond of her. too careful about who she's talking to, or forceful, even.
even back then, when she'd recruited you, she'd just told you to ‘act normal’. of course, you took that to mean that you could do mildly creepy things, but not the worse things. you could look through her bag and phone but not delete contacts. she'd just ignored it and kept working. maybe she should've forced you into a therapist's office, but the situation seemed too dire to waste time on fixing your personality. your results mattered much more.
now she regrets that a bit. but her solution worked at the very least. just a little too well.
she'd thought dr. grace and captain yáo could keep you in check, and without her, you wouldn't have any reason for an outburst. she'd asked you to die for her, so that was what you would do. your want to make her happy was stronger than your attachment. but in not accounting for the fact that you would live and come back to her, she'd ruined her chances of fixing you.
she sets her coffee down.
well, is there still a chance?
you're laying on her shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep, holding her arm. she might find it cute in any other situation. she can't exactly force you back into the realm of normality like before, but she might be able to push you there slowly.
but then the question becomes how. if she suddenly started talking about her feelings and “i appreciate when you let me have alone time” then you would certainly catch on. so, should she try to give you more physical affection after you do something good?
but if she tries to reject your affections to punish bad behaviour, that might lead to discipline, as you call it. the most you've done is tighten your hold on her when she pulls away, so rejecting kisses or hugs or touch outright is a risk. and without that, just being more affectionate at times wouldn't do much.
she could probably earn more ‘privileges’ for good behaviour as time goes on. that's the easier route to take here.
“it's getting cold, eva.”
she blinks. she looks at you, questioningly, and you point to her coffee cup while continuing to stare at her, through her. oh, right, she thinks. she takes it back into her hands and takes another sip, pausing when you move down and lay your head on her lap. you hands are on her knee and thigh, carefully holding them.
she thinks for a second. then, lays a hand on the side of your neck, letting it sit there.
the hand on her knee snakes up to your neck, pressing her fingers down just a little harder on your throat. when she leans over to look at your expression, she's not that surprised. there's happiness, pure and simple.
well... certainly not pure, but she won't entertain those thoughts right now.
you speak quietly. “you can press down as hard as you like, remember? my life was always yours—always will be,” she finishes the last of her coffee and sets it down, “so do whatever you like with it.”
she takes a moment to consider that she apparently has much more leeway than she thought. she remembers a certain speech from long ago, when you were asking for nothing but forgiveness and swearing that your life and everything you had was hers—she'd slapped you once and walked out on you at the time, but now, she might consider your words more carefully.
ah. is that why you'd hurt her, too? as payback? you definitely haven't done anything of the like since. even the cuffs you'd taken off in the morning.
she can accept that reasoning more easily than just anger.
when she proposes to sleep in the same bed, you take it as seriously as a real marriage proposal.