A mission alone shouldn't have been a problem; Mordecai had been on plenty and had come back unscathed. In fact, he thrived in the solitude of it all, him against an entire planet full of everything that wanted to skin him alive. It gave him a rush that he'd been looking for all his life, and now that he'd finally found it, he wasn't going to pass up any opportunity to find it again. The rattling of his bones with each shot, the satisfying spray of blood when his ammo found their targets… He may not have been making a difference, but it was a purpose, and that was better than nothing at all.
Yet, tonight of all nights, he felt no pride in his actions. No satisfaction from what he'd accomplished. All he felt was exhaustion and bitter hatred for what he'd had to do… because he knew that it would bring him no closer. Nothing ever would, not when she erected such walls to keep herself safe. How much he hated that, the fact that she'd care so much about people yet would keep them at a distance. Only get attached "in the right ways." Never giving herself the opportunity to…
He slumped against her door, his head thumping against the metal in some attempt to rid his mind of these thoughts. Get up. Get a shower. Go to bed. Do it all tomorrow. Instead, he sat himself in front of Pierce's door and waited. Waited for something that wasn't coming. But something sat heavily in the middle of his chest, and he felt it twisting at his insides until he wanted to puke. Burying it in more drink was always an option, one that never made him feel better the next day despite the numbness that washed over him.
She was in bed, he told himself, and there was no one else around to hear.
"You know… I came here thinkin'…" Mordecai paused; this felt stupid, admitting his thoughts to a door and an empty room that lay beyond. What good would it do him? What good would it do anyone? Yet he continued, eager to get it off his chest.
"… that I'd get as many credits as I could into my pocket 'n get th'fuck out of here. Me 'n Blood, jus' pick this place clean of what it had, and move on. Woulda been easy too, done it plenty o'times before. … then you and your shit had t'give a damn. Even you cursin' me down as some bloody Vault Hunter givin' you more problems… you still gave a shit. S'been a long time since I ever got that from anyone."
His mother. His siblings. It had been some time since the thought of them had ever crossed his mind.
"Never liked ya from th'start. Pushy. Always wantin' t'be right. Yellin' at us for bringin' shit t'your doorstep. … then outta nowhere, ya kinda grew on me. Never figured out I was doin' shit t'piss you off on purpose, just t'get a rise out of you. Cuz that's what you do best, orderin' people around."
It might have been what she did best, but she always looked her best when she wore that half-cocked smile on her face.
Another thump of his head against the door.
"… all I'm sayin' is don't change for no one. Even if…" Even if he couldn't be the one to rouse that smile, or help her sleep better at night, or put her worries to rest. He was too unclean for that kind of life, and her too perfect. What she needed was a Vault Hunter, not some lovesick Truxican who wanted to whisk her away from all this.
"… keep doin' you, Pierce. Ya'll find what you're lookin' for, in th'end."
Mordecai grunted as he slid up the door to his feet, completely unaware of the woman just on the other side of the door, sitting at her table and worrying over her cup of tea in the middle of the night. Shock blanketed her features at such an admission, especially from someone like him, so much so that the thought of teasing him about it never crossed her mind. Pierce felt like she'd been presented with a gift, one too precious to be besmirched with her teasing, and she felt her face warm in gratitude for his words.
"My tea's getting cold…" she quietly and quite suddenly remarked to no one, as she cleared her throat and gave herself something to do, anything to get out of that chair.