AN: I don't know how one or two lines of certain poems can cause my dormant muses to flare like supernovas and make me write things like ficlet expansions of stories (Solitude and Solace in this case, with a reference or two to Eight by Eight and Turnabout) that I wrote back in 2016, long before CSIII was a thing. In retrospect, I could have put a little more emphasis on the paradigm shift between Machias and Emma that took place there and I'm kinda rectifying that now - we got to see a bit more of his side before, so now it's her turn to get her due.
(And if you haven't read Solitude - hey, now's your chance!)
so long, so quiet
The darkness surrounding Emma might have felt oppressive and all-consuming under normal circumstances, especially considering her current accommodations; a sparse bunk aboard the Courageous with the constant hum of the engines echoing in her ears and blocking out the gentle breaths of Alisa, Laura, and Fie as they slumbered away. Not that she particularly minded at the moment. Given the clouded, jumbled state of her thoughts, a bit of isolation was more than welcome.
"First off, it's in exceedingly poor taste be so flagrantly presumptuous. Second, I fail to see how my being fond of you personally has anything to do with my refusal to condone your sudden totalitarian streak!"
Even merely repeating the words in her head was enough to send yet another wave of heat rushing to her cheeks. Celine had mercifully decided to stop teasing after the sixth (give or take, anyway) wave of blushing had come upon her, though the look she'd flashed Emma as she sauntered out of the room told her that this was far from over. She had an exceptional memory for the most mundane things as it was, Goddess only knew what she'd do with this in the days to come...
She sighed and let her eyes flutter open, barely able to make out the bare metal of the room's ceiling. Truth be told, she felt kind of envious. At least Celine had an established path going forward; she herself, much to her regret, wasn't so lucky.
Things had seemed so simple in that small room, when it had just been him, her, and no one else. It didn't matter that words had come close to failing them both (an irony that still made her lips curl up in equal parts amusement and chagrin), nor that things had been left unresolved; glimmers of intimate truths had been shared and a spark, gentle as it was, had well and truly been lit. Really, that should have been enough and up until a little while ago Emma thought it might have been. She had seen Machias off to bed hours earlier with a squeeze of his hand and a mock warning that anything less than ten hours of uninterrupted sleep was unacceptable, and the indignant huff she'd drawn in reply had the unmistakable ring of normalcy to it. It had felt good; cleansing, even. She'd missed that, she really had.
It was only later on (when Emma had curled up in a blanket, trying her best to get some much needed sleep of her own) that pointed questions had started to run through her mind unchecked, a runaway train hurtling down the tracks with no end in sight.
Hadn't his features been so sharp and austere before? Surely his shoulders hadn't always been that broad, had they? Did his eyes always have those flecks of hazel sprinkled throughout the jade, or had it just been a trick of the light beckoning her to come even closer?
And more importantly, since when did any of that start mattering? When had she started being so... fond, as they'd clumsily put it?
Goodness, she was blushing again. Would wonders never cease.
Emma turned onto her side, gingerly nibbling at her bottom lip and trying her best to wrap her head around the current state of affairs. While she'd freely admit to noticing certain things about her fellow bibliophile as their friendship had evolved during their time at Thors - his diligence, his work ethic, the fact that he was far, far kinder than his near-abysmal first impression had let on - there'd been nothing that had made her react like she had today, nothing at all...
... except for that one conversation they'd had in the Chess Club room's fading light...
... or the impulsive hug she'd given him in the same room months later...
... or the way her breath had seized when their ARCUS units flared as one at Lohengrin Castle, linking them for the first time in forever...
Or. Or. Or.
And somewhere within the deepest, most secret recesses of her heart, a knot unraveled and came undone.
Oh, she realized with a start, her gasp a delicate, soft thing. Oh.
So, that was it.
Ridiculous as it sounded, it sort of felt like she'd ought to have known. It all seemed so self-evident now, so wonderfully matter of fact; the sky was blue, the sun was bright, and she was in love with a green eyed boy that was stubborn and proud and fiery, and so, so beautiful.
She'd almost kissed him earlier. Her lips still tingled at the memory.
Maybe her tastes in literature had influenced more than she thought they had, but Emma thought that a revelation of this magnitude probably should have caused more of a reaction - the ground quaking or the stars falling, perhaps. Instead, all she felt was the same sense of serenity and calm that had flowed through her hours earlier, when her hands had been on his chest and his forehead had been resting so tenderly against hers.
But then again, maybe that was no great surprise. After all, in the grand scheme of things nothing had really changed in the last few minutes; she just... knew, now.
(Whether or not that composure would carry on into the future was anyone's guess. She was more than willing to take her chances).
Emma inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, the last remnants of tension draining from taut muscles and allowing her to finally relax into the mattress beneath her. Her delicate fingers slackened before releasing the blanket entirely, and the last thing she could think of before slumber claimed her was how much she was looking forward to the coming of the dawn.
She slept a sound and peaceful sleep.
When Emma strode into the cafeteria, she was greeted by the sight of a visibly refreshed Machias leisurely lounging at a table, his nose in a book and a cup of coffee in front of him. She'd have expected no less.
She joined him without a word, preparing her customary cup of tea and humming gently to herself as the leaves steeped in the hot water, the rising steam tracing silvery trails in the air and filling the room with the sweet scent of morning.
"... Ten and a half," he finally said, not bothering to look up.
Emma's grin was small and teasing. Somehow, she had a feeling that he knew. "Exceeding expectations as always, hmm?"
His gaze narrowed with no small amount of suspicion as he fixed her with a pointed look. "If this is where you tell me that you got eleven so help me - "
"Honestly. Finish your coffee, Machias," she said, barely able to keep from laughing, and her eyes lit up when he heaved a put-upon sigh and pushed a small saucer with a muffin on it over to her side. "Oh, you shouldn't have."
"They went very quickly. As it turns out, Nicholas bakes just as well as he cooks."
"Hehe. I'm not surprised."
She sipped her tea and ate her treat (apple cinnamon, she noted with delight) before sneaking behind him to get a glimpse of what he was reading, her palms coming to settle on his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Not that I have any particular objection, but wouldn't it be simpler if I just showed you?"
"I think this is more fun. Next page, please?"
Machias rolled his eyes but obliged anyways, and if he was at all bothered by Emma giving up after a few more pages and sliding next to him to read properly... well, he certainly didn't show it.
They sat together just like that until Towa's high-pitched voice rang out over the speakers, calling Class VII to the bridge. As Machias rose to leave, he waited for a split second before tentatively extending his hand, his expression unreadable.
He was so close - close enough to touch - and yet there were no flushing cheeks, no butterflies in her stomach, no nerves thrumming with electricity. She was grounded now, utterly suffused with that same blessed calm.
The things a little self awareness could do.
Emma reached out to lace their fingers together, and the spaces between them fit exactly like she remembered. The thought made her smile.
He smiled back.
"Hi."
"Hello."
And all around them, time flowed on.
"I slept there the night you said 'I think I'm
falling in love with you,' igniting a great unendurable
belongingness, like a match in a forest fire.
I burned so long so quiet you must have wondered
if I loved you back. I did, I did, I do."
- Annelyse Gelman, The Pillowcase
