[ You didn't have to say yes, is on the tip of her tongue — sharp but not angry, not a weapon she intends to wield against him. Mako knows it could have been just as easy to tell her no or tell her nothing (—that would be the status quo, wouldn't it—) but he hadn't, he'd as good as said he was ready by being here. (He has nothing to prove to her, not anymore, but maybe accepting that wouldn't come nearly as easily.)
Mako shifts her weight uncomfortably in the moment that follows, but it's not Chuck that makes her uncomfortable, it's herself. If she were to answer truthfully (Mako isn't one to lie) that would take digging deep, into soil she knows they'd rather both leave untouched, earth that hasn't been disturbed for years and years and which is probably better off forgotten.
But if Raleigh and Sitka and five years on the Wall (—she remembers—) has taught Mako anything, it's this: that life is for living and it's lived in the moment that holds you and all the moments that follow after. What came before had its time; now belonged to the present and to the future. The fact that Chuck is alive now doesn't undo what he'd done, doesn't erase the impact of it and doesn't change the fact that without him the Breach would have never been destroyed. But what lies before him (before all of them) is a chance for a different future. A chance for something beyond the war.
To be honest the possibility frightens her, but she can practically hear Raleigh in her head, can see the crooked smile he'd give her if he was in front of her, witnessing that fear in her eyes. About time one of us got our timing down right, don't you think?
Mako blinks at Chuck and blunts the blade of her tongue. ]
no subject
Mako shifts her weight uncomfortably in the moment that follows, but it's not Chuck that makes her uncomfortable, it's herself. If she were to answer truthfully (Mako isn't one to lie) that would take digging deep, into soil she knows they'd rather both leave untouched, earth that hasn't been disturbed for years and years and which is probably better off forgotten.
But if Raleigh and Sitka and five years on the Wall (—she remembers—) has taught Mako anything, it's this: that life is for living and it's lived in the moment that holds you and all the moments that follow after. What came before had its time; now belonged to the present and to the future. The fact that Chuck is alive now doesn't undo what he'd done, doesn't erase the impact of it and doesn't change the fact that without him the Breach would have never been destroyed. But what lies before him (before all of them) is a chance for a different future. A chance for something beyond the war.
To be honest the possibility frightens her, but she can practically hear Raleigh in her head, can see the crooked smile he'd give her if he was in front of her, witnessing that fear in her eyes. About time one of us got our timing down right, don't you think?
Mako blinks at Chuck and blunts the blade of her tongue. ]
I wanted to see you, [ she admits. ]