3

Curly wasn't sure how long it took for him to get his breathing back under control after his laughing fit turned into full on sobbing, what he did know was that he felt rather pathetic and exposed afterwards.

He sniffled harshly, feeling completely and utterly drained. His movements were stilted, his eyes burned, and he was much too close to Swansea than what was probably socially acceptable. Curly swallowed thickly, noting that at some point he'd even gone as far as to tuck his head against the other man's shoulder.

Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't been shoved off or something. Instead he was the one to quickly put distance between them, keeping his eyes downcast as his face heated up. God, he must look like such a mess right now, why the hell had the technician even stuck about after that display?

"M's-s-sor—ry," he croaked. Everything felt so stiff and fuzzy still. How long had he been like this? How long—

"Hey."

Curly moved a trembling hand to draw through his hair, becoming more and more aware of how badly he was still shaking. Jesus Christ, this was bad. He cautiously raised his head to look at Swansea. The older man was giving him an odd look, the best he'd be able to put it was that it was… like a gentle sternness. He wasn't used to gentleness from the man.

"I'm not sure what the hell that was all about," the older man dragged a hand down his face as he stood, "But you need to talk with someone?"

Was… was the man offering what Curly thought he was offering…? He must have looked as lost as he felt because before he could say a damned thing, the mechanic huffed, "What? Just because I'm a right prick doesn't mean I don't know how it is to be young and stressed."

"You u-used to, to be young?" He joked with a wary half-smile, very much trying and failing to lighten the atmosphere around them. Swansea didn't even comment, just offered him a hand and helped pull Curly back to his feet.

He stumbled and probably would have fallen back down if it weren't for the steadying hand on his back. God, his legs ached.

"Look, Curly," he felt so small right now, "Whatever that was, that was not fucking normal, so we're going to go sit down in the cyro room, got it?"

"I'm, I-I'm fine, really— I…" The blond trailed off, taking in Swansea's unimpressed look. "…okay." It felt like admitting defeat, it felt like all his remaining pride down the drain, it felt like exposure.

"Good, now cmon, I don't got all day."

He followed after the mechanic, eyes on the ground.

~

Curly sighed through his nose as he glanced at the closing door. Swansea was real about talking wasn't he? This was going to be a disaster. A compete disaster.

He saw Swansea start heading towards a couple of chairs pushed off towards the back of the room, but honestly, he felt better just sitting on the floor. With a sigh, that's what the blond did. He stretched his legs out, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, half-expecting the other in the room to snap at him to get his ass over there or something.

Instead, he could hear Swansea making his way back over, muttering something about how this was going to kill his back later. Then the man just sat down next to him, sighing, "Alright. So what happened back there?"

The blond closed his eyes and shrugged, "Would you believe it if I said I spontaneously developed a phobia of medical rooms?"

An unamused grunt, "Do you always make it this hard to talk with you about this shit?"

"…Sorry."

"Mmm."

He risked looking at Swansea, the older regarding him simply in turn. Curly swallowed and looked away, pulling his legs up to his chest so he could rest his chin against his knees. This felt like such a waste of time, he had to keep a fucking eye on things, had to make sure nothing went wrong, that he caught things on time, that he—

Fingers snapped infront of his face and he flinched. Oh… he was zoning out again, wasn't he?

"You back?" Swansea huffed.

"Y-Yeah, sorry, just," He reached up to fidget with his hair, "S-Sorry… I, I'm not… I'm not supposed to fall apart."

"And why's that?"

"I'm the fucking Captain," he snapped, tugging at his hair, "I-I should, should be better t-than this— I have to be put together! I— I how, h-how—"

"Curly, look at me." He obeyed, shuddering. "Good. Now listen here," the man sighed, moving to pull the blond's hand away from his hair, "Stop that, got it? You're just gonna work yourself into another spiral—"

"Y-you wanted me to talk," he retorted, shrinking back at the stern look this got him.

"Let me fucking finish my sentence, boy." Curly frowned at being called that, he was in his early 30's for godsake, he wasn't some kid. Despite this, he didn't have much, if any, fight in him. The blond nodded weakly, pulling his hand away as he looked to the far wall. "Alright. I want you to be concise, as straight to the point as you can be, think you can do that?

"I-I th-think so…"

"Good. Now tell me again, why aren't you supposed to fall apart?"

The blond gave a weak laugh, "I… I can't afford to, I— I have to m-make sure everything, everything stays… just. I have a-a responsibility to the crew, yeah?"

"Mhm," Swansea scratched at his chin, "Now what's this got to do with the med bay?"

Curly tensed up, what could he say exactly? 'Oh you know, I have memories of months on end spent in a prolonged state of sheer agony where I couldn't move off that fucking table! Oh yeah, by the way, I'm pretty sure I went back in time but before that I watched you all die! Or well, Jimmy shot you somewhere else but I got dragged out to where he'd propped up your corpses. Now I keep seeing all your bodies burnt into my fucking mind's eye every time I think about it for too long!' He scoffed, shaking his head. He wasn't even going to attempt talking about that.

"…d…does it matter?"

The other man tsked, "Alright, let me ask another question then, did something… happen that you wanna tell me about?"

The blond chewed at his lip, "I…" Curly had been meaning to talk to Swansea about his concerns regarding Jimmy. He… just thought he'd have more time to figure it out. "…p-please don't tell anyone ab-about this," he whispered, feeling a shudder of deja vu.

"Alright."

He stared down at his hands, rubbing at his palm, "And… and before, before y-you say anything, I know that, that I-I… I'm a coward," he gave a sorry excuse for a laugh, "I-I'm, I'm such, s-such a fucking c-coward, and I know it, I let people, g-good people, let'em get hurt, I— so m-many fucking people have tried to— to reach out! Tried, tried to t-talk to me! And, and… I even let myself be taken, ta-taken advantage of… I… just thought h-he was my, my friend…" Curly didn't notice the way Swansea looked at him, "…I'm pretty d-damn stupid, yeah?"

The older man didn't respond for a moment and when Curly finally did glance over at the engineer, Swansea wore a solemn, thoughtful expression. When he caught the blond's gaze on him, Swansea cleared his throat, "I'm assuming you're talking about—"

"Who else could I-I be talking about, honestly?"

"…mmmm. Alright. And… what excatly happened?"

He swallowed back bile. "He… h-he hurt me like, like he's hurt others before. Used… me." He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering, "Yet, yet i-it wasn't enough, a…at one point? I— I thought h-he was going to kill me. I almost wish h-he had."

Curly rubbed at an eye, "And… a-and you know the real— heh— the r-real kicker?"

"Mm?"

He bared his teeth, "I… I couldn't… didn't even f-fight back." Like a coward. A scared, fucking coward. "Imma no c-captain, just, just a damn… coward."

Curly let out a breathy sigh, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. Pathetic. He was so damn pathetic. Christ, if he couldn't even protect himself, just— just how was he supposed to protect anyone? His throat tightened, tears pricking at his eyes again, "…wha—what's wrong with me?"

"Curly."

"Just… fuck!" He slammed a fist against the near wall, wincing, "I… should've, I should've seen it coming!" Curly ran his other hand down his face fiercely, "Fuck. I… I should've listened to Anya. S-Should've seen t-the signs… done… done anything!"

If only he'd fucking acted, if only he'd actually done something worthwhile, he could've prevented so much heartache, so much pain! The sorry-excuse for a captain buried his face in his hands, shoulders beginning to tremble as he tried to keep himself from having another breakdown.

There had just— it was— a hand moved to rest gently on his shoulder, making him jerk back to attention with a stuttering inhale. Swansea barely looked bothered, just giving him an assuring pat, "Look. Sometimes life deals you some shit cards, right? Drops em right into your lap."

"I… guess?"

"Well, a lotta men take the easy route, shuffle the deck and push the bad dealings outta sight," Curly could feel the guilt choking him once more, "Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

How he had tried to ignore it all, the accusations, the warnings, the pleas. It… it had been so easy to brush aside…

He looked up when the older continued, "Yet, you know, takes a lot more to start actively looking. Sounds… sounds like you had one shitty wake up call, but you're actually paying attention to it. Hell, kid, I'm just sorry it had to be such a rough one."

"I d-deserved it—"

Swansea snapped, "No one deserves that. Do I make myself fucking understood?"

Curly curled in on himself, rubbing at the back of his neck. He opened his mouth, not sure whether to argue or apologize, he took the coward's option and just buried his face into his arms.

There was a heavy sigh and he flinched as he was dragged into a sideways hug, "You listening to me, boy?"

He didn't dare look, just nodding shallowly.

"Alright. Did… did it happen in the med bay?"

He shook his head quickly, paused, and then cautiously nodded. There— he couldn't explain, how was he supposed to explain!? Curly swallowed down a sob, "I, I just—? W-w-why would, w-would he hurt me!?"

"You'll drive yourself crazy trying to answer that, some people are just like that."

"…A-Anya… t-tried to tell me, me h-he made her uncomfortable e-early on."

Swansea grunted.

"I… I s-shoulda listened…"

"Just focus on what you can do going forward. Think you can do that?"

He hesitated before ever-so-slightly nodding.

"And if you ever, and I fucking mean it, if you ever feel like he'll hurt you, come to me, got it?"

"…w-why couldn't you have been captain?" He whispered hoarsely.

"What was it?"

"Why couldn't, couldn't you have been captain," he repeated, "Y-You got your shit together—"

Swansea barked out a laugh, Curly jumping at the sound, looking up sharply at the man. "Kid? Do I look like I got my shit together?"

"Y-yes?"

"Curly, I'm fucking getting close to being 60, I was an alcoholic for most of my life, and even now when I'm married and got some kids to carry on the family name, the highlights to my life were all spent drunk out of my mind." Swansea grinned, rolling his eyes, "Not to mention, I'm working for this shitshow of a company."

"Well… at least y-you did something with your life, I'm almost 34, Swansea! I— I haven't even… I've never even been engaged much less found someone that actually made me happy."

"Mmm… you know, that shit doesn't say a damn about whether you lived a life worth it or not. Getting a house, getting settled, having kids, none of it. You can try to have it all, but from what I've figured, life's… life's a lot more complicated than any of that."

"T-Then what… what makes it worth it?"

"Honestly?" Swansea grunted as he leaned his head back, "I don't know. I'm still looking for it, but I figure… I think it's something you got to find for yourself."

Curly tried to hide his disappointment, frowning as he stared down at the floor. A grunt pulled him from his daze, blinking back up to see Swansea moving back to his feet.

"Christ, you had to go and sit on the floor didn't you?" The mechanic complained as he leaned his hands on his knees, huffing as he fully stood again, "What happened to people using a fucking chair?"

Curly couldn't help but give a laugh, shaking his head, "S-Sorry, you know… you, you didn't have to sit down with me, yeah?"

"Shut it," the man said, giving the blond a pointed glare.

"Going to… to give me a respect your elders talk now?"

"Don't push it," Swansea rolled his head a moment, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Now, I got to get back to that fucking door, but you know where to find me, got it?"

Curly managed a smile, "Yeah, yeah… uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it. I mean it, don't." As the mechanic began to head towards the door, Curly got back to his own feet quickly.

"Wait!"

"Hmpf?"

The captain walked over, wringing his hands a moment, "I… uh. I know this, uh, this might be pushing it—"

"Out with it."

"O-okay, can… can you keep a-an eye out for… for Jimmy acting off?" He held his breath, chewing on his lip.

Swansea hummed, "Can do, captain."

Curly felt his shoulders slump, looking up with a tearful smile, "Thank you."

The man nodded once and left.

The blond exhaled heavily, wiping at his face before moving to head to the nearest bathroom. He did not want anyone else seeing him like this after he'd just been so clearly crying. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?

~

Anya hugged her knees quietly, eyes still roaming about Curly's— no, her— room. It was just a touch bigger than the old one had been, had a bath tub rather than just a shower in the bathroom connecting to it (even if it was pretty small), and an admittedly pretty star map settled over one wall. She'd taken sometime to look that over, but now, now she was trying to find it in herself to go to sleep.

Afterall, the day had gone on like just about any other, save for the captain's odd behavior, and now that the simulated night was upon them again, well…

She just had to work up the nerve to go to sleep. She had all her things (a couple boxes full of her textbooks, a bag with some personal belongings, and her suitcase containing her clothing), she had her comfortable pajamas on, and… and she had even had a lock on the door now.

Anya had locked it, unlocked it, had Curly even prove it did indeed lock several times by having him try to open the door while she stood in the room, and yet…

There was still an anxiousness building within her, fingers moving to play with her hair as she stared at the door crack. She didn't see any shadows. She didn't hear any breathing.

She swallowed, glancing at the lamp on the desktop. Would, would it be silly to sleep with it on? The woman sighed and decided it was fine, afterall, sometimes the emotional parts of the mind didn't quite align with the rational parts.

It made her feel safer to have the light on, so she'd keep it on. Simple as that. Anya smiled weakly to herself and despite her heart practically pounding through her chest, she laid down. She stared at the ceiling, glanced at the door crack again, and quietly folded her hands over her heart.

"I'll be okay," she whispered, swallowing thickly. She nodded, "I-I'll be okay." She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

It must have taken her ages to slip away into sleep, but when she did, it would turn out to be the best rest she'd have in ages.

Even when a figure would slip down the hall, running their fingers along the doorknob, it did not budge when they attempted to open it. The door remained locked. Anya remained safe.