Diner: Seven & Marta
Marta was glad she'd had work on Friday, because it had provided a distraction from all her worry about the upcoming meeting with Seven. She wouldn't think the word "date", because that was far far away from what she knew this to be. It was a meeting - a chance to make contact again, even though the prospect of it had made her clumsy all day at work. She wished there was a way to make herself calm down, but she did her best to turn from that particular line of thought, because it took her back to "bad coping mechanisms", according to her social worker and the people at her meetings. Easier said than done, though. Of course.
She'd gone home after work - back to the house she shared with Destiny - and looked at the outfit she'd picked out the day before. Staring at it, she felt a new shred of worry begin to take root. It wasn't anything like she used to wear. Not when she'd first met Seven, not after they moved to New York, not even once she got pregnant. The outfit she stared at now was as plain as everything else she currently owned, thrifted and filled in with pieces from inexpensive stores. Her best pair of skinny jeans (maybe still a little looser than they should be, but getting better), an oversized heather grey sweater that would hit mid-thigh once she pulled it on, and the standby generic canvas shoes she'd taken to wearing once released from rehab. She had no jewelry, no purse, no heels to lend her extra inches. She left her hair down, even though it would likely be a staticky mess once she got to the diner, and slicked on some lipgloss. She still had nearly-visible scars branching back from the corners of her mouth, and more along her now-covered neck and arms, but she didn't add any other makeup to cover them. Or the still-present darker circles under her eyes from nights of sleep that weren't entirely restful. Once she couldn't waste any more time without being late, she pulled on her huge second-hand parka, ignoring the ugly beige color of it for the second winter in a row, and headed out the door with wallet and keys tucked into its pockets.
The walk to the diner was short, but she spent the entirety of it with her hands shoved into her pockets, thinking back about times with her and Seven. It had been one of the best times in her still fairly short life. Even pregnant, she'd started to settle into the thought of a longer life with each other, even on the days when her self-doubt about reciprocal feelings had crept in. There were so many times that she'd thought that their situation was only temporary, but looking back she knew that wasn't any fault of Seven's. She still doubted it in her own mind, and still suspected that he and Sawyer were better off without her around. But if she admitted it to herself, now there was sometimes a hint of curiosity about whether she might have been wrong. Or at least gone about it in the wrong way. She was pretty sure about that last part, at least.
The diner loomed up in front of her before she was entirely ready, and she stood near the corner of the building for a few minutes, lingering. She had to go in, so she finally took a deep breath (ignoring the hitch in it and the now-familiar tremble of her hands) and headed for the front door. It chimed when she pushed through, and her eyes scanned the restaurant quickly, a little jumpy, until they landed on him. She froze then, barely breathing as she stared at him.
He looked amazing. Fuck, he wasn't even wearing anything special, from what she could see, and he still looked amazing. It wasn't fair at all. It also wasn't fair that his eyes were on her too, looking up when the door had given its little announcement. She felt (like she often did these days) small and plain and entirely out of place. There was no way that she could run away, and she realized after a moment that she didn't really want to. So she made her way over to the booth, parka swishing a little against itself as she moved, and paused next to the table for a second before sliding in across from him. She didn't especially like sitting with her back to the door, but it was much easier for her than it had been when she was still working at the motel. She pressed her lips together, took another breath, and finally gave him an uncertain little smile.