[ Amos dry-swallows, his hand opening, flat on Prax's back. He breathes through his nose for a moment, trying to think of what to say. Prax isn't that guy, he isn't, but Amos believes he would have done it. ]
I know.
[ He does. But that's not what matters. ]
But you didn't. You don't need that blood on your hands.
( amos' hand flattens out on his back and prax tips forward further, forehead hitting amos' shoulder. it's an awkward position, him folded in half before amos, mostly standing, leaning against the bed frame, holding on. he doesn't even notice. )
Thank you.
( he's not sure what he means. for stopping him? or for shooting strickland in his stead? amos shouldn't have to do that for him, but prax can't help but be impossibly and selfishly glad that he did. )
[ It's sincere, and a little biting. Amos did it, he shot Strickland without a single moment of hesitation or remorse, and he would do it, over again, for any of the crew and for Prax in particular. He is a killer, and he won't keep him up at night, but he doesn't want to be thanked for it. ]
You needed to stay clean, for Mei. She needs you to be. I've already got stains all over.
( amos might have stains all over already, but prax also knows that he'd be dead so many times over without amos, that he wouldn't have stayed as sane as he has without amos, that he might have lost faith if not for amos.
he owes amos so much and amos doesn't even realise it.
against amos' shoulder, he shakes his head before pressing it closer. )
You don't understand— you've done so much. ( you're so much more, he means. so much more than only a killer. so much more than stained. )
[ Amos would have done anything to get Prax and Mei back together, but he still doesn't think it was thanks to him. He didn't do anything besides make sure Prax stayed alive and could still take care of her.
His hand moves further up, until it's curled around the back of Prax's head. ]
I'm glad, though. I'm glad we got her back. That we got to help you. It was the right thing to do.
( a noise escapes prax, unasked. somewhere between laughter and a groan, something softer, surprise. he thinks about letting himself fall forward, knowing amos would catch him. would hold him up.
he can't keep asking amos to do that. )
Yeah, he did. But without you —
( he can't bring himself to say i would have given up or i wouldn't have made it. )
[ Amos pulls Prax's head up to allow them to look at each other, his own eyes serious, intent. ]
Hey. It's done. There's no point in dwelling about what would have happened under different circumstances.
[ He's never been one to do that. He's never been for what if's and branching scenarios. He made a choice, stuck to it, and didn't regret things - apart from Lydia. ]
( there are things prax doesn't need to overthink or question. anything plant related, he'll know what he's doing and he knows that his choices will make sense, that he's doing the right thing.
ever since ganymede's destruction, he hasn't had that certainty. he's been afloat with nothing to tether him but amos' strength. he shakes his head, lips pressing together for a moment before he repeats, with more emphasis and despite amos' earlier protest: )
[ Amos nods, a little smile on his face. He did what he set out to do, and he kept the Doc from getting himself haunted for the rest of his life with the memory of killing a man. Sure, he'll still have nightmares, but not because he what he did. ]
Yeah. I know what I am, Doc, and I know I can use that to help.
[ He pauses, then starts again. ]
I don't care about a lot of people, but I do about you.
( amos is a different kind of man from prax. prax realises that, but he hadn't realised the extent of it until today. not really. but now, he finds himself nodding, his heart both aching and full, heavy with emotion. )
[ Prax is - thankfully - stubborn. If he wasn't, Mei wouldn't have had someone to fight for her the way her dad did. It's the kind of shit that matters.
( amos has been there, every step of the way. amos has used the horrors he's seen to turn himself into someone who will kill so that others don't have to. who uses the stains on his soul to keep prax's clean.
that is a kind of goodness, isn't it? prax thinks so. )
You are. And I don't know how I am, but if you think so. I'm glad.
( he hesitates, but then tips his head forward again until his forehead meets amos'. )
You can't say that. You don't know what I've done.
[ Strickland was just one. Amos has done so much, the kind of thing that good men don't do. Holden would never have done the things that Amos did, to survive, to keep going, to keep himself moving. He would have found other ways. Amos used to easy way out every time. Get by, or get even. Kill, or get killed.
Amos closes his eyes, jaw clenching. Nowadays, he reserved his violence for those who truly deserved it. To protect his own. He still didn't feel any remorse. ]
What you don't understand is that I don't regret the things I've done. I'd do them again. But these days, I'm trying to be - better. For the Cap'n, for you. But I'm not there yet.
( amos clenches his jaw and it's instinct more than anything that has prax reaching out to touch the hard line of it, the spot where muscle jumped beneath the skin when amos first clenched it. )
[ Amos closes his eyes at the touch, surprised. He blinks them back open, turning his head until the corner of his lips catches on the side of Prax's hand. It feels like he's catching on fire and he doesn't know why. ]
( it's such a small thing. it could be accidental— but nothing amos does feels accidental to prax and his breath catches now at the sensation of amos' lips brushing his hand, if only barely. )
You've been helping me. ( he says after a moment, voice rough. ) When you didn't have to.
( those would be holden's words more than amos'. prax realises they used him, in the beginning— but after what he's seen happen since the destruction of ganymede, he's not sure that means they owe him.
maybe it does. he's still grateful. )
Thank you, Amos.
( his eyes are a little wet. and maybe it's just that today has been such a rollercoaster of emotions, maybe this is a stupid thing, maybe he shouldn't — but he still leans in and presses his lips to amos'. )
[ Amos freezes. He doesn't exactly mean to, it's just - this is the last thing he expected. It feels like he's just been punched in the gut, only in a good way, which is even less something he could predict would happen.
This - this kind of affection doesn't happen to him. He can't remember ever kissing someone entirely willingly, and here is Prax, with his newfound smiles and his depths of gratefulness that Amos doesn't feel like he deserves, not for just doing the right thing. Here is Prax, kissing him, and Amos can't breathe.
It must take seconds for him to start kissing back, but he finally does, eyes still open as he does, something experimental in the way he pushes back, in the way he curls fingers around Prax's wrist, how he presses up, just a fraction. ]
( amos freezes long enough that prax is coming to regret his action, that he's beginning to pull back. he's never seen amos freeze — amos is always so sure of his actions and of himself — and he doesn't know what to make of the fact that he's the cause for it now.
the sinking feeling in his gut is half regret and half guilty, he realises, but before he can break the kiss entirely and apologise, amos starts kissing him back. pressing up, closer. curling his fingers around prax's wrist. the sinking feeling turns into something swooping. )
[ Amos, once he realizes what's happening, once his brain kicks back into gear, does the only thing he knows how to do in a moment like this: he shifts back, and pulls Prax in. The angle is uncomfortable for both of them, right now, with Prax bending down in front of him, and it would be much, much easier to just have him over Amos's lap.
He does it with a strange, slightly detached feeling. The same thing that always takes over when he finds himself in situations involving physical intimacy. His thoughts hover, just a few inches from his head, like it's not really him in the situation, like it's not him pushing into Prax's hands and wordlessly asking for more.
It's unfair on Prax. He's not another John, someone that's paying for Amos's body, since they could never get his affection. Prax has his trust, and his affection in a way no one he's ever touched like this has before. He can't stay detached.
He can't - he pulls back from the kiss suddenly, breathing hard as he looks at Prax, his voice softer than he wants it to be when he speaks next. ]
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I know.
[ He does. But that's not what matters. ]
But you didn't. You don't need that blood on your hands.
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Thank you.
( he's not sure what he means. for stopping him? or for shooting strickland in his stead? amos shouldn't have to do that for him, but prax can't help but be impossibly and selfishly glad that he did. )
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[ It's sincere, and a little biting. Amos did it, he shot Strickland without a single moment of hesitation or remorse, and he would do it, over again, for any of the crew and for Prax in particular. He is a killer, and he won't keep him up at night, but he doesn't want to be thanked for it. ]
You needed to stay clean, for Mei. She needs you to be. I've already got stains all over.
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he owes amos so much and amos doesn't even realise it.
against amos' shoulder, he shakes his head before pressing it closer. )
You don't understand— you've done so much. ( you're so much more, he means. so much more than only a killer. so much more than stained. )
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Nothing you wouldn't have done yourself.
[ And he entirely believes that, too. ]
Doesn't matter now, anyway. It's done. You've got your little girl back.
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( and he's still shaking, but now he's smiling, too. he's got mei back. she's safe. at least for now, she's safe and she's here. )
I wouldn't have, if not for you. You have to know that.
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[ Amos would have done anything to get Prax and Mei back together, but he still doesn't think it was thanks to him. He didn't do anything besides make sure Prax stayed alive and could still take care of her.
His hand moves further up, until it's curled around the back of Prax's head. ]
I'm glad, though. I'm glad we got her back. That we got to help you. It was the right thing to do.
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he can't keep asking amos to do that. )
Yeah, he did. But without you —
( he can't bring himself to say i would have given up or i wouldn't have made it. )
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[ Amos pulls Prax's head up to allow them to look at each other, his own eyes serious, intent. ]
Hey. It's done. There's no point in dwelling about what would have happened under different circumstances.
[ He's never been one to do that. He's never been for what if's and branching scenarios. He made a choice, stuck to it, and didn't regret things - apart from Lydia. ]
You won.
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ever since ganymede's destruction, he hasn't had that certainty. he's been afloat with nothing to tether him but amos' strength. he shakes his head, lips pressing together for a moment before he repeats, with more emphasis and despite amos' earlier protest: )
Thank you, Amos.
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You're welcome. My pleasure, doc.
[ His hand starts to slip from the back of Prax's head. Surely that was all the doc wanted, right? ]
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he does know that he misses the warmth of amos' hand at the back of his head almost immediately. )
Is this—
Are you okay?
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Yeah. I know what I am, Doc, and I know I can use that to help.
[ He pauses, then starts again. ]
I don't care about a lot of people, but I do about you.
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You're a good man, Amos.
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But Amos isn't a good man. ]
I'm not. But I'm trying. You're helping.
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that is a kind of goodness, isn't it? prax thinks so. )
You are. And I don't know how I am, but if you think so. I'm glad.
( he hesitates, but then tips his head forward again until his forehead meets amos'. )
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[ Strickland was just one. Amos has done so much, the kind of thing that good men don't do. Holden would never have done the things that Amos did, to survive, to keep going, to keep himself moving. He would have found other ways. Amos used to easy way out every time. Get by, or get even. Kill, or get killed.
Amos closes his eyes, jaw clenching. Nowadays, he reserved his violence for those who truly deserved it. To protect his own. He still didn't feel any remorse. ]
What you don't understand is that I don't regret the things I've done. I'd do them again. But these days, I'm trying to be - better. For the Cap'n, for you. But I'm not there yet.
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( amos clenches his jaw and it's instinct more than anything that has prax reaching out to touch the hard line of it, the spot where muscle jumped beneath the skin when amos first clenched it. )
I think that's more than a lot of people do.
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I just wanted to do the right thing, for once.
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You've been helping me. ( he says after a moment, voice rough. ) When you didn't have to.
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But it wouldn't be sincere, and Amos isn't much of a liar. ]
I wanted to see you smile. To see you see her again.
[ He'll cherish the memory. ]
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maybe it does. he's still grateful. )
Thank you, Amos.
( his eyes are a little wet. and maybe it's just that today has been such a rollercoaster of emotions, maybe this is a stupid thing, maybe he shouldn't — but he still leans in and presses his lips to amos'. )
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This - this kind of affection doesn't happen to him. He can't remember ever kissing someone entirely willingly, and here is Prax, with his newfound smiles and his depths of gratefulness that Amos doesn't feel like he deserves, not for just doing the right thing. Here is Prax, kissing him, and Amos can't breathe.
It must take seconds for him to start kissing back, but he finally does, eyes still open as he does, something experimental in the way he pushes back, in the way he curls fingers around Prax's wrist, how he presses up, just a fraction. ]
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the sinking feeling in his gut is half regret and half guilty, he realises, but before he can break the kiss entirely and apologise, amos starts kissing him back. pressing up, closer. curling his fingers around prax's wrist. the sinking feeling turns into something swooping. )
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He does it with a strange, slightly detached feeling. The same thing that always takes over when he finds himself in situations involving physical intimacy. His thoughts hover, just a few inches from his head, like it's not really him in the situation, like it's not him pushing into Prax's hands and wordlessly asking for more.
It's unfair on Prax. He's not another John, someone that's paying for Amos's body, since they could never get his affection. Prax has his trust, and his affection in a way no one he's ever touched like this has before. He can't stay detached.
He can't - he pulls back from the kiss suddenly, breathing hard as he looks at Prax, his voice softer than he wants it to be when he speaks next. ]
What are you doing?
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