Daughter Figure
A/n: Roo (Cross) is rattled after an off-hand remark by Lin. What is missing in his head?
Set pre Ch. 8. Vague spoilers, sparked by a heart-to-heart with Lin. I think it has no swears, marvel at that, kids.
All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and I am so so so grateful, you know?
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Roo hadn't meant to refuse to help her with the trials for the flight module. He really hadn't. Standing outside the boxy Outfitters' Hangar, with her looking up at him with those beautiful dark eyes, how could anyone refuse her anything? She'd talked with such spirit about all her plans and work. Such a tiny thing and so full of the future. Then she'd made her offer and he'd backed away, shaking. He was glad, later, to realize she hadn't been hurt by that. Easy enough, with Doug always there for her. Lucky kid, she knew how much people loved her. Not everyone had that. Not everyone could see it, for that matter.
He'd been far from chill about it. He hadn't been trying, actually. Lin had noticed how rattled he looked. She'd even asked if he was getting sick, the sweetheart. Something on his face must have shown the distress ripping through him. He hadn't been trying to be calm at all, so stunned was he by whatever was going on in his brain.
He was distracted for the rest of the day. It wasn't something he knew how to approach. Mostly, he was known for his cheerful nature. It was easy to feel that way, with so much to explore, so much to see. He was born to be a Pathfinder, because he was always up for a run, climb, swim, whatever there was to offer. It was a reward, just to get to go one step further. He could run the same path a thousand times and still get lit up because of a new view, a new angle, a new sky. A new enemy, that made things fun too. Life on Mira had always been rewarding for him, and he was grateful. But now, for the first time, something was deeply wrong. A disconnect between what he had and what he wanted. For the first time, he was missing.
He'd begged off of going on a mission with Doug and Frye. He had never refused to go on a run with them, whatever the target, whatever the weather. His head was such a weird place, he couldn't be anything but a liability to any team. They were strong fighters, sure, but if they had asked him, they were looking for someone who could focus on a target and punch hard. He wasn't sure he could do either today.
Everywhere he walked, he felt jangled, but he delayed his return to the barracks. Just couldn't bear to see Lin again, to be honest. He'd waited until he knew she was on a mission (something about ingredients and Tatsu, best not to ask lest you hear what passed for wit between 13-year-olds). He still entered, cautiously, for once actually hoping for solitude. He settled on the tangerine-colored sofa, managing a crossed leg position after a few tries. It felt unnatural. He rearranged his long limbs, still uncomfortable. He sighed. He must be getting old if it was hard to sit comfortably. As if his grey hair weren't a hint of that already.
He was still in the barracks an hour later, no more at ease. He'd paced from kitchen to briefing area, tried sitting again, paced some more, sat some more. Sleep was pointless, food had no charms, missions were off. He was stuck and miserable. When Elma entered the room, he wasn't sure whether she was a gift or the last straw.
Elma paused, consideration filling her eyes, but Roo hadn't spoken, not even a greeting. He'd returned to the couch then, sitting stiffly and miserably. The colonel walked into the kitchen. Without having to watch, he listened to her moving about, heating water, filling a cup with the Miran tea she'd come to like so much. He closed his eyes, and tried to generate enough normality to manage a little small talk. A gentle clink on the table made him open his eyes. A cup of tea was directly in front of him. The colonel sat on the opposite couch.
"This blend is very relaxing. You should drink it while it's hot."
Roo picked up the cup. Swallowing was surprisingly painful, but he was glad he could manage a sip. The hot liquid tasted spicy, with a hint of metal and dust. "It tastes like Oblivia."
The slightest smile crossed Elma's face. "Yes, I can see that. I'll probably think of it that way from now on."
Roo set the cup back down on the table. He was out of words, again. He nodded.
"Eleonora told me you refused a mission from Doug. What's wrong?"
He appreciated her directness, even if he didn't answer at once. He scratched the scar over his eye, stalling for a minute. "I had a memory."
"Ah."
"Except it isn't a memory. It's more like a hole suddenly opened up in my head, a place where a memory belongs."
"What happened?"
"Lin was asking for a favor. You know how I always say yes. But I try to let her ask first. She was working her way towards it and, well, I felt something weird happen in my head."
"Painful?"
"Closer to frightening. She had mentioned that she thought of me like a father."
Elma gave a smile. "Don't worry too much about it. She's used variations of that line before."
"Okay." He felt surprisingly sad. "It wasn't that. When she said that, I felt something shift. In my brain."
"A memory unlocked."
"Nothing was unlocked. I suddenly felt that I was missing something. Something important."
"Do you think you were a father once?
"I have no idea."
Elma sighed and crossed her arms. "All this time, you haven't been bothered by not knowing your past."
"No."
"Weren't you ever worried about it? When I found you, you could barely remember your own name. Beyond weapon skills and basic language and math, you know next to nothing. And yet it's never been a problem for you."
"Until now." Roo bowed his head, groping for the words. "Mira's my home. I don't miss what I don't know. Maybe if everyone wasn't also facing the unknown along with me, maybe I'd feel more like a freak. But every day is something new." He looked at Elma, his narrow eyes almost as blue as hers. "Tell me you haven't been astounded by something during almost every mission you've run."
"True. Mira is full of surprises."
"It's a bundle of curveballs and freak outs. And I love it. I don't need a past to enjoy whatever comes next."
"So you've never wondered."
"Honestly? No."
"And now you're facing the first possible memory."
"Except it isn't anything like a memory. More like a ragged place in my mind that deserves to be filled. There's a person that should be there, but I don't know their face, their destiny. I can't even give you a name."
"So you're remembering someone from your past. Maybe a family member."
"I don't know. Something important is gone, and I need to be doing something about it."
"A child would be important."
Roo nodded. He'd run out of words again. Nothing could describe the crawling fear and distress this emptiness was causing him.
"We won't be able to help you get an answer. No one's found any records for you. None. No one knows you, no one recognizes you. Nothing from the reclaimed wreckage has helped. Eleonora says we may learn something when we find the Lifehold itself, but I'm not optimistic."
"I'm not sure I can wait very long, anyway. This is …" He grasped at the air in front of him, and shook his head, mutely.
Elma looked at him thoughtfully. Roo gazed back with something close to desperation. He'd never really followed Elma in quite the way the rest of the crew seemed to. He'd always been more comfortable with his own ability to get what he wanted, to reach where he aimed. Now, he wanted to believe in her the way they did.
She spoke slowly, her words measured and calm. "If you can't find the truth but you can't accept the unknown, you may have to choose your own past. Choose a name."
Roo's face twisted in something close to horror. "I can't pretend to be something I'm not."
She hesitated, and gave a tiny shake of her head. "Choose something you can be. No one can tell you you're wrong. You wouldn't be pretending. It would be just as true as any other answer, if only because we don't have any possible answer. If everything is unprovable, everything is equally false or true. It might bring you some comfort."
"Anything I make up, if I let myself start believing in it, it'll change how I act. What I do."
"So you'll need to choose well."
They weren't able to speak any further, because at that moment Lin crashed through the door, followed by a singing Nopon and the hungriest Interceptor team Roo had ever seen. Even Gwin couldn't out-eat the new girl, Case, who attacked Lin's meal with a ferocity that was frightening. Luckily, the mission for ingredients had been a whopping success (as proved by Tatsu's musical demonstration, all verses rhyming more or less with "berry", sometimes much less). Roo let the chatter and competition swirl around him, distracting him from a decision he knew was coming.
It arrived later that night, as he sat on his bunk and wondered if he'd ever sleep again. Caroline. Her name would have been Caroline. Actually, not a bad guess. If he'd had any say in naming a child once, why wouldn't he choose the same name again?
She'd be about 22. No, 25 now, because she was still alive. If he was going to do this, he needed that part. Slim, average height, same blue eyes but wider, like her mother's. Sandy blond hair in a short asymmetrical cut, accentuating her angular features. A beautiful smile and quick wit.
He hadn't been there for her, for a lot of her life. Too much fighting, too much travelling. He'd split from her mother early, but he'd still loved Caroline. About the time she was ten, he'd tried one more time to stay closer to her, and it had stuck. She'd been better about it than he'd deserved, loving him and letting him be in her life. He had to credit his ex for that too, maybe they'd both grown to be adults once they were apart. Roo hadn't tried to make up for lost time, but he'd been very careful to make sure he was there in the present, even if he continued to be deployed here, there, and everywhere. He focused on supporting every good choice, every brave thing Caroline did. Again, the credit really went to Caroline. She'd been a great kid, and he had loved her. With all his heart.
Oh god, he could feel it now. It was total fiction, and it was totally real. He could feel the same pride he'd felt when she'd joined the United Government Forces right out of high school. They'd been constantly sending each other messages of support. His teammates would laugh as he'd check his texts every evening, but they'd still been good guys, making sure he'd get those few minutes every day. When she'd been accepted to the ECP ark ship 010 in Quebec, it had been like every worry was lifted from him. He didn't care what came next, his girl would have her chance.
Northwest Passage was one of the few ark ships that might have made it. At least they had no proof it had been destroyed, no distress calls or worse. He willed it to have survived. The ship was now on its third year of the journey, making its way deeper into the safety of space. He imagined her now, waking up for her next shift, hoping her team wouldn't spend too much time correcting her French, wondering if there was anything more exciting than porridge for breakfast. She'd make her way through the corridors, quiet for the most part, never a morning person but not unfriendly.
He lay down on his own bunk, in his own world. One last thought before sleeping. Caroline. As soon as we get things cleared up here, I'll make sure we find you, sweetie. You're out there, and we'll meet again.
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A/N: Well, that's my Cross, Roo, the 180cm dork in shorts, flip flops, and half rimmed glasses. Maybe he had that past, maybe he's making it up (*cough*J-body*cough*). Maybe Monolith Soft is writing that story AS WE SPEAK! Or XenoFishingSim, whatever, I'll buy it and be grateful and proceed to lose what little mind remains to me. And sorry I didn't use the ECP Lutefisk as her ship, maybe someday.
And may I add, SCHOOL IS BACK IN SESSION AND MY HOUSE IS QUIET FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 10 WEEKS. Can I get a hallelujah?
