"Serus, I see you."
"Bullshit!" Ghost spits, the nearly forgotten name a pointed stab in the chest, "Don't lie to me, Solace, you never see me. You look at me, and straight through me as if I have faded before your eyes."
"Serus, I see you."
"You've not seen me before!" Quill reasons, hating how her voice trembles, how her legs weaken and rage fades, "Not once have you shown me even the slightest bit of true interest."
"I have always seen you, dear Serus."
Dear Serus.
Mockingbird chokes on her own fear of herself, on her own hopes and dreams, desires and emotion; it swallows her quickly as she makes one last effort to deny his words, "I am nothing; you said so yourself."
"I never said anything of the kind."
"You agreed with it."
"Not at all."
"You never- not- not aloud, no, but you thought it."
Solace's eyes sear into hers, burning his simple fire into her retinas, "Not once did I ever think less of you than I do of myself. Not once have I said that you do not matter, that I do not care. Not once did I ever mean to leave you, to abandon you to this place. I love you, Serus, and I would not say it to anyone else. I would prefer to bury myself than say it to anyone else."
Serus feels small again as he draws her close, tucks her against him. Half of her wonders who could have casted such a charm on him for such events to occur; the other half knows it is none. She had felt his emotions; seen them, clear as the love and kindness Ros had shown her.
"You are the last of your kind, yes, but you are also the first. The first sliver of life on this world, of this culture, this continent. This bunker. Had you never stopped to wonder how you still live after all this time? Had you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the years?"
