[Something about the way Ruka is explaining this and wording it has Tadashi worried. Jaime had seemed fine when he found him in the maze - overwhelmed and confused to see him, sure, but fine. So what happened?
Normally he'd take the hint and talk to Jaime himself about it.
Normally he's not already dead with only two people who remember he existed.]
I'll keep it in mind. [When he was going through the network to find out how long he'd been gone, there'd been a sort of blip he scrolled past, chalked up to something triggering a memory of a dream he'd had. Maybe, maybe...]
Yeah. It was last year, so it's not really a big deal anymore, but... Sometimes you want the chance to tell your own story, right?
... You're the same way, I think. Just because other people know something about you, it doesn't mean you want them to tell people for you.
[ She picks up her mug, swirling the coffee a little for pause; she doesn't look at him as she mulls over there rest, but her voice has the same sort of soft, comforting tone as before. ]
You can tell him I told you that much, if you want to open the door for him. I think it'll be good for both of you.
[ Tadashi knew Ruka, when she was here before. She hadn't been gone that long before he left, and she hadn't been absent for a terrible gap before that. They may not have been close, but they talked a lot, and Hiro certainly held her in some regard. She's always been a perceptive sort; she's always been able to figure out more than what was told, and for all her abrasions and distances back then, it didn't hide how much she cared about people. How much she's wanted to help, in her own way.
There's no guile to her now, no evasive coldness. Tadashi has likely never heard her speak with this clarity of care before. ]
[She's right about that. Tadashi had been, not insulted, but felt violated when he found out people knew his fate before he even got here. And that wasn't anyone's fault. He just had to deal with it and move on.
He's already been half-reaching for his phone so he could talk with her and use his power to find that post again. But her saying that catches him and he'll... wait. He'll see if it's even something Jaime wants to revisit to tell him. If he doesn't, then that's that. He'll leave it alone.
He wasn't wrong though: Ruka has changed. For the better, he thinks. He's glad for it.]
[Tadashi's voice is small when he finally speaks again in response to that:] ....I didn't mean to leave.
[ And that's the tragedy of it, isn't it? Some people, like Tadashi, are brought to this world when they have no future anywhere else. Some, like Ruka, like Jaime, they stay too long, and change too much, that whatever "future" their original worlds hold isn't theirs anymore. It belongs to someone else — some other version of them that doesn't know these pains, these losses. There are other people, too, in similar circumstances — people that find new callings, new reasons to live, who ... find the people they fit with. The ones that, somehow, seem like they were always supposed to belong together.
And nobody gets to choose who stays, or who goes. Nobody decides who gets to come back, or when. Nobody remains forever.
Every existence is fragile. The world itself is a wounded, delicate place, even now on the verge of destruction — but from one night to morning, anyone's whole world could end, if someone leaves.
Under the table, Ruka bumps the toe of her shoe against Tadashi's, an unseen call for attention. ]
It's rare, to come back. To remember. To... have even one person left, who missed us.
[ For Tadashi, it's Jaime. For Ruka, it had been Mitchell Hundred, of all people, and the loss is still strange in a way she can't quantify. There are others who have come back, too, to only one friend, to two. Some, who come back to no one at all. By nature, the story of any one imPort is a tragedy. ]
... It's hard to lose that much time, and so many people. Even some of the lucky ones can't recover from that. ... But... I wonder, sometimes... if we're brought forward like this, because... the things we need, or that we're needed for, just don't exist yet... and we wouldn't be able to endure the wait.
[He knows he's lucky in that regard. When he found himself here, at the military facility, he had expected either no time to have passed at all and everyone was here, or for too much time and no one to know him. He was pleasantly surprised - relieved - when he saw Jaime and Ruka's names. Relieved to see Nico's name too, but he knows how the boy doesn't remember him from before.
He sips his coffee in turn, shifting his foot at the touch. A welcome moment of familiarity bringing him out of his thoughts (and new for Ruka too, he has to stop comparing her to the way he knew her before, it's been 3 years). He does manage a smile for her.]
Considering the alternative is not existing... I'm glad I was brought back too.
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no subject
Normally he'd take the hint and talk to Jaime himself about it.
Normally he's not already dead with only two people who remember he existed.]
I'll keep it in mind. [When he was going through the network to find out how long he'd been gone, there'd been a sort of blip he scrolled past, chalked up to something triggering a memory of a dream he'd had. Maybe, maybe...]
Thanks for letting me know, Ruka.
no subject
... You're the same way, I think. Just because other people know something about you, it doesn't mean you want them to tell people for you.
[ She picks up her mug, swirling the coffee a little for pause; she doesn't look at him as she mulls over there rest, but her voice has the same sort of soft, comforting tone as before. ]
You can tell him I told you that much, if you want to open the door for him. I think it'll be good for both of you.
[ Tadashi knew Ruka, when she was here before. She hadn't been gone that long before he left, and she hadn't been absent for a terrible gap before that. They may not have been close, but they talked a lot, and Hiro certainly held her in some regard. She's always been a perceptive sort; she's always been able to figure out more than what was told, and for all her abrasions and distances back then, it didn't hide how much she cared about people. How much she's wanted to help, in her own way.
There's no guile to her now, no evasive coldness. Tadashi has likely never heard her speak with this clarity of care before. ]
He really missed you, you know.
no subject
He's already been half-reaching for his phone so he could talk with her and use his power to find that post again. But her saying that catches him and he'll... wait. He'll see if it's even something Jaime wants to revisit to tell him. If he doesn't, then that's that. He'll leave it alone.
He wasn't wrong though: Ruka has changed. For the better, he thinks. He's glad for it.]
[Tadashi's voice is small when he finally speaks again in response to that:] ....I didn't mean to leave.
no subject
[ And that's the tragedy of it, isn't it? Some people, like Tadashi, are brought to this world when they have no future anywhere else. Some, like Ruka, like Jaime, they stay too long, and change too much, that whatever "future" their original worlds hold isn't theirs anymore. It belongs to someone else — some other version of them that doesn't know these pains, these losses. There are other people, too, in similar circumstances — people that find new callings, new reasons to live, who ... find the people they fit with. The ones that, somehow, seem like they were always supposed to belong together.
And nobody gets to choose who stays, or who goes. Nobody decides who gets to come back, or when. Nobody remains forever.
Every existence is fragile. The world itself is a wounded, delicate place, even now on the verge of destruction — but from one night to morning, anyone's whole world could end, if someone leaves.
Under the table, Ruka bumps the toe of her shoe against Tadashi's, an unseen call for attention. ]
It's rare, to come back. To remember. To... have even one person left, who missed us.
[ For Tadashi, it's Jaime. For Ruka, it had been Mitchell Hundred, of all people, and the loss is still strange in a way she can't quantify. There are others who have come back, too, to only one friend, to two. Some, who come back to no one at all. By nature, the story of any one imPort is a tragedy. ]
... It's hard to lose that much time, and so many people. Even some of the lucky ones can't recover from that. ... But... I wonder, sometimes... if we're brought forward like this, because... the things we need, or that we're needed for, just don't exist yet... and we wouldn't be able to endure the wait.
...
[ She sips her coffee, and shrugs. ]
... I'm glad you were brought back.
no subject
He sips his coffee in turn, shifting his foot at the touch. A welcome moment of familiarity bringing him out of his thoughts (and new for Ruka too, he has to stop comparing her to the way he knew her before, it's been 3 years). He does manage a smile for her.]
Considering the alternative is not existing... I'm glad I was brought back too.