when everything's made to be broken

There was a flicker of a smile across Jessica's features when Rowan asked again if it was the coffee, clearly worried she'd done something wrong. "It wasn't." The redhead promised, tucking their t-shirt back into their worn jeans. Because while Jess had had a shot first thing that morning, she usually still had to have a second one a while after they'd eaten breakfast. It had nothing to do with Rowan. Honestly, if Jessica had gotten themselves coffee, it probably would have been something with all the naughty extras, because they'd known a shot was coming either way. But the redhead appreciated the thought that Rowan had put in.

She'd never felt so in over her head. Not during her service, not when she re-enlisted for the millionth time, not even when she found out she was pregnant with her son. This was... different. The emotions that flooded her body, covering her bones, and filling her chest were part of something she'd never felt before, something she'd never admit to have felt before. This part of her, the part that she willingly showed with Jessie all those years ago, was something she held so very close to her and the thought of opening that part back up again after all of the time that had past was so incredibly close to terrifying, the touch of the other's hand on her arm did little to reassure her otherwise, but she gave a nod anyway and followed them back onto the deck behind her home. "Coffee feels like such a formality, honestly," Skipper admitted as she halted near the railing, her palm settling onto the wood worn by the salted air of the ocean. "Like we didn't spend an entire year seeing each other naked every night."

This was the very reason the small backpack went everywhere with Jessica, no matter the outing. Because it didn't matter what Jessie was doing, whether it be seeing a movie or an emotional conversation with an ex... diabetes would make an appearance eventually. "I'm sorry." She murmured again, flashing the blonde an apologetic frown as an alcohol wipe was swept against the tip of their finger, before lancing it and procuring the drop of blood for the manual test. There had been a time when Rowan would be right beside them, quickly collecting the used items for the trash, taking the glucose meter to do the calculations for Jessie if they needed insulin. But now Rowan hovered by the door while Jessie grabbed the auto-injector, setting up a dose before tugging up the corner of her shirt to expose their stomach, doing the shot quickly, before putting everything away. "Yeah, yeah I'm alright." Jessica nodded, chewing the inside of their cheek. As much as the interruption hadn't been welcome, maybe it had given the redhead a few moments to reel in their emotions, Jess feeling slightly more gathered when she slipped the test kit back into the bag.

A sigh of relief fell from her lips when the other assured her that they were alright. There was little doubt in her mind that Jessie was anything but okay, but hearing them say it was the reassurance she didn't realize she even needed. "That's... that's good. I'm... you're sure it wasn't the coffee?" Skipper doubted that the reason for the spike was the black coffee she served, she was so careful about the details of it right down to the beans she'd chosen at the grocery store earlier in the week after she extended the offer of meeting at her place in the early morning hours. The details she hadn't thought about, however, were the ones about how the meeting would actually go once they were both thrown into it. She said her part... now what?

As soon as the redhead stood, Skipper wasn't too far behind, a concerned wrinkle in her forehead as she listened to Jessie mention a finger prick. Maybe there was a lot that changed with both of them, but it was clear this was something that hadn't — along with her concern for the other, despite the other having everything under control already. She could never help stepping in to assist whenever they were together, worried about rising numbers and keeping the best schedule that would suit Jessie. One of the things that had changed, though, was that she wasn't a part of it anymore, her assistance wasn't needed or wanted and so, Skipper lingered behind as the other went back inside to get the backpack she brought with her. Her arms crossed and uncrossed, her foot toed the mat just by the open sliding door as she watched Jessie do what she needed to do. "Everything okay?"

Rowan said it with such conviction, that Rowan almost allowed themselves to believe it. But ten years of self-doubt was hard to wash away in just one conversation. The fact that the blonde met their gaze when she said it though, that helped; being able to see the honesty in those blue eyes that Jessie had spent so much time getting lost in... They had to swallow again then, feeling their lower lip trembling and catching it between their teeth. Jess didn't want their emotions taking over, influencing this in any way. However, when Rowan moved closer and took the mug from her and setting it down, those hands then coming up to cup at her cheeks, the tears welled in the corners of Jessica's eyes, threatening to spill over.

"We were twenty-two," Skipper mumbled as she shook her head at the other's insistence that they would've come with her if they'd talked about it, if she'd asked her to. She would have never done that, even if it was something that had come to mind in the moments leading up to her leaving. Truthfully, it was never even a consideration. Jessie loved her job, they had a life and friends and it all would have been too much to give up for someone who couldn't even bring herself to hold the other's hand in public. And honestly, there wasn't anywhere to even come with too. Skipper did everything she could to make sure she was deployed to the most active, miserable place where she could think about anything but what she'd left behind, a place where people didn't bring their families with, not like the base she was born on in Okinawa. "You had your whole life to live, I wasn't going to make you into one of those partners who spends all day waiting for that phone call."

"I just-- I thought we were good." Sure, not out, not public. But Jessie had never demanded that, happy with their private romance that seemed to come easily enough. When Rowan insisted that she'd never meant for them to think the reason she'd left was because of them, Jessie could only furrow their brow, head shaking with confusion. What else was there to think? "Between me or the military... you chose the military." And yes, Jessica understood the obligation to serve, for Rowan to do what they could for the country and all that. But-- one minute the blonde had been there, the next she'd been gone. "Because...it was better than me." Rowan's choice of words tugged at the open wound that was Jessie's heart, a wound she'd never been able to heal. And maybe that's not what the other meant, but it's what the redhead heard. Because that's the belief that they'd been under for the last ten years, that Jessie themselves had been the cause of Rowan leaving. That maybe if she'd been better somehow, that the blonde would have stayed.

They were good. As good as they could've been when Skipper refused to acknowledge that there even was a them in public and as much as she knew the moment would've come when she had to, her leaving ironically had nothing to do with her fear of coming out or that she thought they were anything but good. Every moment with Jessie felt good, it lit her up in a way that felt like the first time the sun peaked over the horizon in the morning, the first house you pass in the winter that has Christmas lights strung from their roof, like the taste of coffee in the morning when you so desperately need it. It wasn't about them. It was about her. Leaving Jessie... leaving August, it was never about the people she left behind, the casualties of her own war raging inside of her. No, it was so much more than them.

Hands were stuffed into their pants pockets, Jessica trying not to feel awkward in the other's space. It was strange, how you could go from being so intimate with someone, to feeling so out of place near each other. "Thanks, I will." A small nod at the offer, before Jessica was following the blonde outside. It was a small place, but that didn't surprise the redhead, since Rowan had never been one for extravagance. Though the fact that the other had chosen somewhere so close to the beach was a little surprising, though maybe she liked being close to the water after serving in some of the drier places on Earth; welcoming beach sand compared to the dust of the desert. The early morning sun glinted off the water, and it took Jessie's eyes a moment to adjust as she took a seat, fingers wrapping around the warm mug. They hadn't been at all taken aback by Rowan's offer to meet so early in the morning - one of the things the pair had had in common back when--- back then-- was that they were both early risers. They'd enjoyed those moments, when the sun was just starting to peak above the horizon, when it felt like it was just the two of them awake in the whole world.

A nod came with the other's response. She knew that if it had been Jessie that left, it would've hurt her too. Her actions and the casualty of them wasn't lost on her. For years she'd lay awake at night, thinking about the redhead, about her finding the note that she'd left in her otherwise empty apartment, wondering what would come of it. Despite Skipper hesitancy to own up to her true self, to go public with their relationship, they'd still been a good amount of serious. Then she picked up and left and what surprised her was what Jessie thought the reason was behind why she left. What they'd done? The blonde's brow furrowed, jaw quivered with a feeling wedged between regret and protectiveness. She could see just how hurt the other was, even after all these years, and she wanted to take away the source of that hurt so badly.

Walking away from that supermarket isle had left Jessica in such a conflicted state. She hadn't known if Rowan would reach out or not, and attempted to brace themselves for that fact that the interaction might have been the last. After all, it had been ten years since Rowan had disappeared the first time with no explanation, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume it would happen again. But less than a week later, Jessie received the text saying they needed to talk, and honestly, the redhead didn't know how they felt. Relieved? Uncertain? Hesitant? All of the above, and so much more. Because maybe deep down, Jessie was scared to hear what Rowan had to say, to hear what they'd done to drive the other woman away. However, knowing had to be better than not knowing, and Jessie had already delt with ten years of the later.

She was internally panicking. Skin crawling with nerves that rippled across it every time she glanced at the redhead who made their way into her space, setting the backpack she had on her down by the door as though they'd been there a million times, as though they belonged there. It wasn't the first time the two had been in an interaction like this, one welcoming the other home, but this was different. This was tainted with a betrayal that could have only come from one of them walking away from the other, something Skipper intended to try and explain if she could get her feet to actually move to show the other the way to the deck. It was early, too early for her to be thrown into a situation like this, but she'd always been an early riser and most of her best thinking happened in the morning, before she let the world eat away at her slowly throughout the day.

Even after all these years, Jessica was savvy to the subtle changes in Rowan's features, tiny facial expressions that revealed so much, bringing a pang of guilt to Jessie's chest. "I know, I know." Because they did know. They knew that confronting emotions was hard for Rowan, let alone in public. It wasn't that Jessie had meant to bring this all to the surface, but they couldn't pretend like this causal conversation was normal. But when Rowan shot back they were barely even dating, it was like a blade through Jessie's heart, the redhead instantly recoiling. Because there it was, the self-doubt rushing to the surface, that Jessica had been struggling with over the years. While they knew that it was a lie, that they had been something, hearing Rowan deny it so outrightly certainly hurt. Chin quivered, nodding even as the blonde murmured a small apology. "Forget it." Because if Rowan was going to be like that, then Jessica wasn't ready to deal with this. "Look, you know where I work..." Jessica couldn't even look up at Rowan when they spoke this time, feet shifting. "If you do want to talk, you can find me." After all, the island wasn't all that big. And Jessica knew their boss would give out their number if someone rang looking to enquire about a mechanic. @skipperlandvik

She was the reason they were barely even dating. All of her hang ups, her self-consciousness, her fear that someone looming around some dark corner would figure out her secret and tell the entire world, as though that mattered in the slightest. What was she so afraid of? Her dad was gone, the army was in her past, and the people on this island? They couldn't have mattered less to Skipper. Why was she still so intent on denying a part of her that she'd been stuffing down for over a decade? She wished she had the answer, wished she knew why her heart hammered and sweat started to bead on the surface of her skin at the thought of someone overhearing and assuming. Maybe talking, in private, would be for the best, maybe she owed Jessie that much, at least. So she nodded meekly in understanding and watched the other walk away this time, knowing that she'd barely last a day before she'd make the phone call, asking for the local airplane mechanic's number.

Maybe Jessica had misread the situation, misinterpreted the words as an invitation when they'd been nothing more than a suggestion. But this whole conversation was throwing Jessie off, making her feel off balance, unsettled in a way they hadn't felt in a long time, and the redhead wasn't sure what to make of it. Running into an ex was never pleasant, but Rowan was so much more than an ex, and in some places, Jessie was starting to realize that her emotions were more raw than she'd let herself acknowledge. A deep breath, attempting to steady themselves, to make sure nothing was said that would be regretted later. "You ripped a whole in me, when you left." The note hadn't been enough to explain why, only where Rowan had gone. Leaving Jessica to fill herself with blame at somehow ruining the relationship, to make Rowan believe that possibly dying overseas was a better option than being with her. A belief that drove Jessica to avoid any true relationships in the years since, instead having a trail of one-night-stands and a few friends with benefits that she'd turned to when the need arose. But any time that someone got close, the panic would rise, the idea that something about Jessie herself would cause them to up and leave without explanation, and she just couldn't go through that again. "I don't know-- where we go from here." They'd gone two years without bumping into each other. Did they just part ways and hope it would be another two years before it happened again? Jessica wasn't sure they could know that Rowan was so close and just ignore it. @skipperlandvik

Her lips pressed together, jaw tensed as though she was putting all of her focus into the muscles in the bottom half of her face to avoid the heat building in the top half. How embarrassing would that be? Crying in the middle of a grocery store? She could only imagine what her dad would've said about it. So she toughened up, just like he taught her to, just like the military taught her to, and she added another thing to her basket as she finally let her gaze fall away from the other. "What do you want me to say?" Skipper questioned, distracting herself with the items on the shelf rather than the redhead beside her. She wondered, if she could disappear from this moment now, would she do that too? "It's not like we were married, Jessie. We were barely even dating." Once she heard the words actually leave her mouth, the blonde realized that if she had to force herself to say those words, chances are they'd hurt the other even more and she couldn't help but pause at the end of the aisle and back peddle what she was saying. "I'm sorry," Skipper admitted, a breath falling from her lips. "This just... I can't talk about this here. Not like this. Not with this many people around."

Had Jessica minded that Rowan was still in the closet about her sexuality in public? A little, at first. Until Jessie had figured out where the other's boundaries were. The redhead themselves was a naturally affectionate person, was touchy-feely with all of her friends, so hadn't acted any different with Rowan, even though the emotions behind those touches were romantic instead of platonic. Once Rowan realized that no one could see the difference, that no one suspected anything, then she'd let Jessie continue that casual affection.

The other's refusal took her off guard. Eyebrows pinched just slightly in panicked confusion, blue hues searching for any sort of indication in what she said that Jessie just couldn't do. Was it celebrating? Did she think... that the blonde had underlying intentions when she'd mentioned celebrating when the other passed her test? "You, uh... no, I'm..." Her words broke off, again and again. Did she want to celebrate the other's achievements? Sure, it was a thought that crossed her mind, a feeling that had bubbled in her chest when she learned about Jessie's pursuit of their pilot's license, but it'd been a decade and Skipper hadn't exactly left on good terms. Or, rather, had ruined any good terms they'd had when she did leave. Things had changed since then, surely, despite her joke that nothing about the redhead changed at all since they last saw each other. "I didn't mean..." Her breathing quickened slightly, heart starting to hammer against her chest, caused the feeling of blood to pound in her ears. "We've both changed a lot since that day. I just wanted you to give yourself a chance to celebrate when the time comes. It doesn't have to be with me."

There it was: a flash of the Rowan that Jessie had fallen in love with. The joking, teasing woman with the bright smile. Seeing it tugged at Jessica's heart strings, more than she would have liked. "I don't know how a snake can play poker - they don't have hands. Do they get one of those card holding stands? That only seems fair." Really, Jessie felt like they shouldn't be joking back, that somehow this was dangerous territory, like it would be all too easy to fall back into old habits. But Rowan had left, after all. Had made the choice that Jessica wasn't worth staying with.

It almost seemed too normal, too much of a blast from the past to not leave a dull ache in her chest. Grocery shopping was something they'd done together, a way to feel like a couple without appearing like one. It was easy to seem like friends or roommates while picking out granola and salsa and milk alternatives. What others didn't know was how Skipper would pick up a certain brand of an item simply because she knew it was Jessie's favorite, or how she and the redhead shared a grocery list because they were always at one of their homes and it just seemed natural to share groceries. The granola, the teasing, the seriousness of the other when they mentioned working toward their pilot's license — it made Skipper want to run and fall into it all at the same time.

They were still in the dark, but even unable to see, Emily could feel how tightly Skipper's muscles were tensed under her hand, she could hear how ragged her breathing was. She realized that she too was near-panting, adjusting to how quickly sleep had left her. Still, despite being awoken so suddenly, she was alert, trying to assess the threat. "I'm turning the light on," She announced, not wanting to scare her when she reached over and turned the lamp on with her free hand, leaving her other hand wrapped around Skipper's arm, throwing a warm, yellow light into the room.

The blonde hadn't even processed the announcement the other made, but suddenly the room was flooded with a yellow warmth that caused her eyelids to squeeze closed for just a second, a split second and nothing more, before blinking away the glow that covered the room. She could see enough in front of her to now confirm that she was in a bedroom, safe, untouched, and not under any threat that'd been so prevalent in her nightmare. It was just her and Emily and the question of what exactly were they doing hanging between them. Her damp and still slightly nervous gaze fell to the other blonde as soon as a hand touched her own, gently prying it from the sheets it'd been entangled with, and without putting up much of a fight, she released her hold on the soft material. She processed the questioned asked, but hesitated to answer. There was no surprise when it came to the nightmare that had woken her up, no surprise that there was even a nightmare at all, but how did she explain that?

A quip nearly launched off his tongue in the vein of her just accepting whatever she got, thankfully Charlie was able to bite the comment down rather let it gain an ear. One that likely wouldn't be happy to hear such feedback. They didn't know each other well enough, nor had they the comfort to joke and tease on that level. He supposed that's what these fishing trips were to accomplish. Finding common ground after such an awkward date together. "You may be perfectly fine drinking shit coffee but I am not," he returned, shooting her a look right back. "It's an important staple of the day and here we are already starting off on the wrong foot." Now a bit of a teasing tone came along with the words even if they gave Charlie pause to think. Should it be this hard? Maybe he was overthinking things and now it became all about trying rather than them simply be natural with each other.

"Okay, offended that you just called my taste in coffee shit, first of all," Skipper pointed out with the hand that was holding her coffee loosely against her chest, as though she were any bit of offended (she wasn't, but he didn't have to know that). "With that attitude, you might have a successful date in... oh let's say three decades? And that's probably just me being generous, because y'know, can't teach an old dog, right?" Her lips quirked in a semi-smile, the first sign she'd allowed him that she, not only liked their mornings spent fishing together, but actually enjoyed them.

In the almost year that they'd been together, Jessica had seen some of the... quirks the army had left Rowan with, and they had been hard for the blonde to overcome back then. Jessie couldn't imagine what an extra two tours would have done to Rowan's behavior, to her psyche. So it wasn't surprising that the blonde had drifted around for a while. Deep down, Jessie ached that they hadn't been able to be there for the other woman, ease that adjustment back into civilian life. But-- no. No, she couldn't let herself think like that, feel those emotions. It was clear that Rowan hadn't wanted that, or she would have reached out, so Jessie needed to quell those feelings before they could even form.

"They aren't? But they told me they were amazing friends. In fact... we have a game of poker all planned for next week. I've heard the snake actually has a horrible poker face, though." A grin continued growing on her expression until it was wide and bright and completely uncharacteristic of Skipper. The feeling of amusement in her cheeks only felt like one person; Rowan. Specifically, the Rowan that she'd been in the year they'd dated, smiling in a way that only the other could ever pull out of her. Most of her personality was usually doom and gloom with a little bit of self-protective sarcasm and teasing, but when it came to Jessie? It seemed her body just reacted naturally to being near the redhead.

Emily, usually, was a heavy sleeper, but external circumstances could pull her out of her sleep in an instant. She hardly every woke up on her own, but something like a car horn, her phone ringing, or someone getting out of bed could rouse her quickly, as if she was missing out on something by being asleep. She attributed it to her constant work stress and overall life stress, how abruptly she woke up sometimes, but had long ago succumbed to the fact that it was a career path she'd chosen and she had bigger problems to fix than her sleep pattern.

She landed with a crash back into the moment. Not overseas, not in the military, not living through the thousandth imagined death she could've had while enlisted. Instead, she was in the bed of another blonde, with plush pillows and soft sheets wrapped up in her fists and an oversized sleep shirt that didn't belong to her. She was safe. The wave of anxious relief rolled over her as soon as the hand, a touch that was growing so familiar, grasped her arm, offering a something to latch onto as she fell back down. The room came into focus, the light of the clock shone brightly, and her stomach swam with the waning fear of what was in her mind just moments before. Her chest rose and fell with the breaths she took, short and panicked and threatening to cave her chest in on itself with each other.