Ilya (foundapurpose) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-01-08 23:08:00 |
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RAC HQ, GANYMEDE. 2058. It was her hair that first caught his eye. She'd whirled past him, laughing and talking with someone else, and he could've sworn that she moved in slow motion. Solomon Price wasn't a shy person by any means, but days later he still watched her dark head move away, and tried to come up with a good opening line. He probably should have been focusing more on work and not on rehearsing conversations they hadn't yet started. In the army things were a little more direct; someone wanted you, they made it clear, you made it personal, it was all clean and fit in a military-type box. To be discarded when a tour was done or when your platoon was sent somewhere else. Not the weather. That was beyond stupid. Just introducing himself seemed like a great idea, except he hadn't thought past hello and his name. So silence would come after that. Sol studied and worked hard, the physical part of training coming so naturally to him he didn't need to put his full attention on it. He could hit a target without looking with a gun, he could put a man with a hundred pounds on him in a chokehold in ten seconds, and yet he could not figure out what to say to the pretty long haired girl. In the end, the decision wasn't really his. The woman in question had waited. Curious. Fascinated. She had felt those eyes on her several days before. Had caught sight of the dark stranger in passing. How could she not? She had been daydreaming for far too long how their first meeting would be. How the conversation would go. Words weren't her strongsuit and she could only imagine the embarrassing (or worse, offensive) things that she would say. She could have waited longer, for the him to make the first move. -- but patience had never been her strong suit. It wasn't a perfect meeting. Instead, Sol was reading a letter from home and focused on the numbers his mother needed for rent, when he ran directly into someone. "Dios mio," he said, reaching out to try and snag the other person before they fell. "I'm sorry, I'm a ---" It was her. Of course it was her. Who else would it be but her. "Hi." Eloquent. Campbell fought hard to hide the amused twitch of her lip as she saw the series of micro-expressions crossing over his face. Those eyes in particular. Up close they were unsettling. Unreal. Campbell found herself staring far longer into those baby blues than she had originally intended. "It's not your fault at all." Campbell began, only to stop and return a lighter 'hi'. She felt a strangely exhilarating sensation. One she wasn't used to. She composed herself and loosened the iron grip she had on his arm. It was instinctive, even though she knew what had been coming. Her hand lingered on the stranger's arm instead of letting go. Reluctant. "It's um Campbell. My name I mean." Sol's own grip on her lasted longer than was probably reasonable, but in his defense, she was talking to him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like the wind was knocked out of him like this, and maybe the answer was it never had been. Finally he realized what he was doing and let her go, folding his letter and putting a respectful few inches between them. Manners. He knew them. He realized he was staring, his eyes not understanding the need for space since they might as well be nose to nose, the way he was looking at her. Sol forcefully blinked a few times to break it, and smiled to try and cover it up. "I'm Sol. Solomon. Price." You are fucking this up. "I promise I'm not always this terrible at conversation." His smile was the type that could light up a room once it got started, even when it was sheepish like now. "I've seen you around. We're in the same graduating class." That smile. Campbell wanted to trace it with her fingers; wondered what it would be like to touch her lips to his. She had always liked a man with a genuine smile. One that screamed warmth and kindness. She felt herself smile back, a completely involuntary reaction to that contagious smile. "Yes." she finally replied. Lamely. She resisted the urge to groan at herself. A pause. "I'm guessing gunner?" she ventured finally. They might as well have been in a completely empty city for all he knew. If people were coming and going around them, Sol didn't notice, caught in this moment. The problem was whenever he imagined how he approached her, he never thought about what she'd actually say back. How much more engaging her voice and smile would be when it was aimed at him. "That's right. No one would want me to be one of the others. I didn't do so great in biology, I'd probably break something if I tried to be an engineer, and navigator's a little boring." Sol hesitated and comically winced. "Unless you're in navigation in which case I've always wanted to be a navigator," he joked, "they're the real heroes of the RAC." Maybe it was the worst joke in history, maybe it wasn't. Campbell chuckled either way, her finger tugging at the end of her hair absent-mindedly. It was quite likely the only physical sign of her growing nerves. She had very little practice in small talk, an unfortunate choice on her part growing up. She felt out of her element. If only charm and tact came as easily to her as mechanics did. Her hands felt strangely naked without her gloves on or any sort of tool in them. Something to hit. Something to fix. Something to do. The kiss was unplanned. Campbell had barely a split second to process what she was doing before her hands rose to drag Sol's face closer, until their lips touched. That was the absolute last thing he ever expected. Sure it was what he fantasized would happen at the end of his conversation with the girl with the beautiful hair. That was the end result of his imagined conversations. And here it just happened. Sol let the kiss linger, and he didn't deepen it, he didn't push it. There was an innocence to a kiss made with a question mark at the end. He pulled back to look at her, and the smile he gave her was warm enough to melt every inch of Callisto. "Campbell," Sol said, cupping her face in his right palm. "It's a real pleasure to meet you." And he pulled her into a second kiss that was anything but innocent. |
ROOM 4, WHITE RUSSIAN. 2060. The White Russian was an incredible ship. Sol was fairly good at creating an air of nonchalance so when he came aboard, he exuded confidence. And calm. While internally he wanted to be a child and revel in the excitement of his very first assignment. Their first assignment. Where Campbell went, Sol went, and it was the other way around; they were a unit. A team. Or at least that was how he saw it. He managed to be professional around her right up to after dinner, when he'd volunteered to cook for everyone. Afterward he swept her off her feet and into his quarters, her merry laugh echoing off the hallway. It was rude, but he'd make it up to his cabin mate later. He was breathing heavily, coming down off the high of their lovemaking, and ran his hand through her hair. His fingers knew all her stray strands, where the waves began and ended, threading through them. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist christening my bunk immediately." Sol chuckled and stared up at the ceiling. They had their whole lives and careers ahead of them, and he never felt like an optimist before, not to this extent. "We're not white or Russians, but I think we'll do just fine on the ship. What do you think?" Campbell rolled over and propped herself up by the elbows so that she could look down at Sol's eyes. Her hair cascaded down her back, the way he liked it she knew. She brushed her thumb over his jaw and shrugged. "I think everything's off to a good start, don't you think?" She leaned forward and kissed him again, smiling against those sinful lips before he could answer. "Maybe I'll stay here tonight and we can christen mine tomorrow." she suggested as she laid her head on his chest, taking in the scent of him. Sol had a few girlfriends before Campbell, but none of them came even close to the intimacy and closeness that the two of them naturally gravitated toward. He started to understand how people like his parents worked after decades together. And all it took was being in the right place at the right time, otherwise she might've run into a different blue eyed man altogether. "I thought of doing this first thing when we got on the ship, but duty, you know how it is." Campbell couldn't help but laugh. He closed his eyes when her head touched his chest, letting his fingers wander down her tresses, his other arm wrapped snugly around her. Keeping her exactly where she was, close to his heart. "Our crewmates are going to hate us." He didn't regret it in the least. "But I love us." He was a real sentimental fool sometimes. "And you." "Tell me that when we're both old and wrinkly." Campbell said without a beat, grinning from ear to ear. |
TIJUANA. 2071. Rosa Price was a woman of extreme enthusiasm. Friendly, loud, loving, funny, she bustled her way through markets and streets of Tijuana like she owned half the place and knew it. She casually pressed kisses to the cheeks of the merchants she knew, carrying a large tote for ingredients she was getting for the new family meal. For the restaurant, they had regular orders. For her family, no, she did it all personally. "Mija!" The harmless greeting cut through the loud hustle and bustle of the market like a steel knife. Straight through her heart. Campbell froze, her grip tightening around the shopping basket as she turned, holding it in front of her like a shield. Slowly and if she was being honest, terrified. She could have recognized that voice anywhere. For years, its owner had been synonymous to family. Had been a loved presence in her life. Now all she could hear was a distant idea of what could have been. Sol's mother. The sight of her brought back painful memories. Her smile, a mirror of her son's, lit up her entire face. Campbell felt an overwhelming panic rising. The falsely bright smile on her face felt wooden, a pale comparison to the genuine one on the older woman's face. The calm facade Campbell had conjured up moments ago felt at risk of breaking. It wouldn't occur to Rosa that Campbell might not see their unexpected reunion the same way she did. All she knew was that she saw the daughter she "lost" years ago, she was filled with joy. And some tears. No one ever said no to Rosa when she smiled like that. It would explain why an hour later, Campbell found herself unquestioningly installed into Rosa's kitchen. She moved through the paces like a zombie, following Rosa's instructions as best as she could, until dinner was not hazy meal in the near future but a solid table full of food ready to be consumed. The smell was the worst part, she decided, as she surveyed the ridiculous amount of food laid out in front of her. They triggered layer after layer of fresh heartbreak, trudging up the memories Campbell had buried deep within her. -and finally the nail in her coffin. The look of utter surprise on Sol's face when he walked in and saw her seated at the dinner table. His mother knew that he was coming by, she'd pestered him for several months, but she hadn't told Campbell and that was clear by the expression on her face. They sat at this table as a couple for too many times to count. His mother dropped hints about wedding bells and grandchildren, and there were three rings he'd spotted in Mars that he made a note to go look at again. He hadn't made exact proposal plans yet, but it'd been in his mind, until their ship crashed and their relationship imploded. Sol knew people said their life flashed before their eyes before they died. At the moment, his life with Campbell was flashing before his, and he only wanted to die. His mother gave him no time to process it. She came over for a hug, entirely ignoring the glare he shot her, and then pushed him to sit down at the table too. Campbell couldn't help but steal a glance even though the sight of mother and son reunited like so sent another pang of hurt and regret through her already bruised heart. Sol sat chairs down from Campbell, and Rosa made herself mysteriously disappear to 'get more plates' (no doubt listening intently close by, Campbell guessed). He honestly didn't know if she was trying to make something happen, or just trying to force him out of the purposely formed calm shell he created since his life cracked apart. "I'm sorry, she's relentless." As uncomfortable as Sol was, he knew she was more so. This was his house, after all. "How are …." He hesitated. "You look …." He sighed. "Remember when I actually got good at talking to you? I'm rusty." And there was his smile, hesitant but true. Campbell stopped playing with her fork at his question, or the beginning of one. She took her time laying it down on the placemat before looking up at the man before her. She couldn't even meet his eyes. She leveled her gaze somewhere between instead, and attempted to smile. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing what he had meant to say without even hearing the words. Once, their relationship had been so strong they didn't even need to verbalize their thoughts. That sort of intimacy did not just go away it seemed. "You don't need to say anything, Sol." "But I want to," he replied softly. There was so much unsaid between them, stifled by the harsh things that had been said. Sol reached out and stopped, and then finally settled with putting his hand next to hers. There was a crackle of energy in even that small of a gesture, or maybe it was in his mind. But he wasn't looking to spark things. "Thank you for indulging her when it was uncomfortable. She's missed you." I missed you. "Book club's missed you. You could come back." He didn't mean to take it in their break up; it wasn't like they chose to divvy up the parts of their life that used to be teamwork. And yet somehow it had happened, so much so that they were no more than passing ships in the dead of night. Campbell shook her head. There was nothing to it. She loved Rosa. Her gaze felt glued to the distance between their hands. So close yet so far. Three inches and they would be touching. Her pinky twitched and Campbell clamped her fingers into a tight fist. What would he do if she reached out? she wondered. "Book club was always more your thing than mine" she countered, ultimately giving up on the fanciful thought. She wouldn't be able the bear the possibility that he would let go, or worse recoil from her touch. "Besides, I have Sahra's novels to keep me company these days." she smiled at that, her first genuine one since Sol walked in the door. Sol saw her fist close, and he reached the conclusion that was her reaction to him moving closer. He just left his hand there, something deep within him inflating. Break ups were always hard, but they were supposed to get better with time. But her smile was real, and he didn't regret that, so he smiled and went with that thought. "The Tequila Sunrise is a good crew. Reggie's good at spreading that Tijuana family vibe to the rest of it." Sol loved Reggie. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't aware of the man, that was the way TJ could be. Campbell's smile widened at that. "What are the novels about?" There was a touch of shyness in the question, because what he was really doing was asking her to talk to him. About anything. About novels. About the Tequila. She could speak gibberish, and as long as they were sitting there, trying to exist in each other's space again, he would sit and listen. Romance. Campbell couldn't bring herself to admit. She felt herself go red. The Sunrise's unofficial lending library, amassed with help of various crewmembers throughout the years, was small and unimpressive - the spines of the books cracked with age, its pages stained and yellowing. Sahra's paperbacks had been an instant hit with the bored engineer. Romance had never been her genre of choice but Campbell couldn't deny their attraction. Her hands came up to push her hair back (a nervous tick she was sure Sol would recognize). Sol did, curious about what led to it from such a simple question. He also tried not to let his eyes wander to her hair, the quality that first drew his attention to her. It was still perfect. "She likes romance," Campbell replied sheepishly. She couldn't lie to him and feign some sort of intellectual high ground. Not with him. Sol schooled his face not to respond to the genre with a laugh, because he knew the admission was an awkward one. The amusement was all in his eyes, but it was warm, appreciative. "I've read a few romances. My mother has several of those, she might be willing to let you take some of them back for Sahra. Something new." It seemed like the least his mother could do considering the situation she forced them into. She made the mistake of meeting Sol's gaze. Why couldn't he be a jerk? The truth was she didn't know how to deal with him these days. He was the perfect ex and she had no clue how to be friends with him. There was so much history between them. How could she just turn it all off and pretend to care only as a friend? A jerk she could deal with. Her brothers had made sure of that. But not this. "How is..." Book club. Zeke. Everyone. "...the Mama? Has Colt forgiven the Appletini yet?" He groaned and shook his head. He heard an earful of complaints after that incident, and he agreed on most counts. "No, I don't think he's letting the Appletinis off the hook for the next year." Sol didn't bring up that for a second or two it was a little too familiar, feeling the ship rock like that. It was unspoken but for two people who survived a real crash, little reminders were easy. Especially only a few days after Commemoration Day. "I heard you all got to spend Dia de Muertos here. It's been years since I got to do that." The last time was probably with her, but he didn't have to say that. It wasn't quite the same without you. Campbell swallowed the words. "Yes. You know Reggie. We try to wrap up everything before...You know how it is." Campbell groaned through her fingers but it dissolved into laughter. This was unreal. Talking to Sol like this at the dinner table, as if nothing's changed. If she closed her eyes, she could even pretend that the last eight years hadn't happened and this was just another family dinner. -except everything had changed. "I do know how it is," Sol agreed, and he finally reached out to take her hand. He was always a physical person in his own way. It was easy for him to touch someone when it was casual. When it meant something, he hesitated, but right now, he felt like if he didn't catch a moment while he could, it was going to pass by. "Campbell … do you think enough time has passed that we can stop trying to avoid each other? Because the RAC isn't big, and I just …." He set her hand down so she could move it if she wanted to, but he kept his on the table, palm up, if she wanted to stay. "I miss my best friend." They weren't just lovers, they were everything to each other, including that. Sol looked at her with pain and hope in his eyes, and prayed that his baby blues could work one more miracle from her. "Yes." |