She isn't afraid of him, she just doesn't trust him and it seems fair to give him a warning before she turns her back on him for the same reason he gives her.
Because of Tommy. She won't hurt him first, but she won't let him get away with anything either. He gets one more glance before she leads him through the ship, through the iconic common room with the holochess table, down a hallway, into the cockpit.
It's the Millennium Falcon, after all, and if he's seen the holos of Luke and Han's lives he'll recognize it.
"This is my home, in the world I come from. It was Han's first, and it's only mine now because he was murdered there too. He's still dead, there." When she turns to face him she's trying to keep her face blank and her tone even, but nothing about any of this will ever stop hurting her. If he looks closely, he'll see she's been crying recently. If he looks close enough he'll see her heart is broken and she's trying to hide it. "I was abandoned as a child and I grew up with nothing. Han Solo was the only person I ever thought might be my family, one day."
Lark is good at reading people. But part of that is because he can confirm what he sees with things they can't hide: the smell of the salt from her tears, the faint tang of her grief.
"I understand. Maybe better than you'd think," he says softly. He turns his attention briefly to the glass (or not glass? what do you use in a galaxy far, far away?) surrounding the cockpit. He first saw Star Wars when he was a child, back when it was still fresh in theaters, and even now being here is a rush. What he wouldn't have given to be here, back in middle school.
"I don't have family, either. And I'm one of very few people here who takes death seriously, even if it's temporary. But tell me what happened to Han? What does the Bull have against him?"
If she were in a better place his interest in the ship would be winning him a lot of points, just like Leonard's enthusiasm had. It meant so much to her to see other people recognize this ship, appreciate it for what it is, what it means, because it's that exact same thing to her.
Han and Chewbacca had been one of her favorite stories a child, one she had heard from visiting Wookiees who considered Han the sidekick, and she had found Corellian ships in her flight simulators to teach herself to fly the Falcon when she was still very young and there was nothing to do on a planet of sand.
Han and this ship have meant so much to her so when she leans against the pilot's chair, it does its job, gives her strength.
"I don't know," she says honestly. "I just know he killed him. What I did has nothing to do with wardens or inmates to me. I did it because I needed him to know that if it happens again, if he hurts Han again, it isn't something that will go unpunished."
But she never wanted him dead. She had said she wouldn't stop if there was a next time, but that's a lie and it always will be.
Lark leans against the bulkhead, some still vaguely human, vaguely innocent part of him being too awed to touch the Millennium Falcon's furnishings. It's such a dim part of him that Lark doesn't even recognize it, and decides whatever he's feeling has to be because he's not sure how to handle this situation.
But her explanation gets a raw laugh. "God. Do you know how much trouble I've been in because I did the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons?"
Except he'd done worse. But hush. "I meant it, Rey. I do understand. But you need to understand, too, that you're not here to handle things like you would at home. No matter how much sense it makes to us. You are a warden. You are always a warden, whether you're here in this-" a small pause, a faint smile as he looks at the controls "-or eating lunch, or beating an inmate because you didn't think his own warden would do their job. And it matters because the Bull used to be a warden, too. You're here to be better than you were at home, because that's the only way you can earn your deal. Otherwise? The inmates will take you down, and I don't just mean physically."
They've spoken twice now, spent time in each other's company one time. Whatever he's here for, to give advice or to warn her, she doesn't understand why he would be or what he wants to get out of this. It has to be something he wants, because unless he's particularly close to Bull it has nothing to do with him.
And then he says Bull used to be a warden too and her temper flares hot, her eyes burn as her neutral expression turns to one of anger. Alfie's words about being terrified of Bull will never, ever leave her, and she will not stand there and be compared to a monster.
"He never should have been one," she ssays hotly, and there's nothing but anger there. "The difference between us is I never wanted the Bull to die and if I had known someone would- would come after me and do what they did, I wouldn't have left. I would have saved him because I am a warden and his death should never have happened."
"There are a lot of wardens who shouldn't be wardens. But since we don't get to decide that, we either suck it up, or get them demoted." And here, we is definitely the inmate class.
"But you choose to be here. You've got rights and privileges we don't. Maybe you don't think in terms of inmate and warden, but everyone else does. Just pay attention, that's all I'm asking. Your being watched and measured every second because you chose this job."
Lark can warp a fact to suit his needs. And he considers doing that here: give her something that not a lie but is sure as hell not the truth.
But he finds that when he shrugs and faces her more directly, he just goes with the real truth. There's nothing she can do with it that would hurt him. Probably.
"Because I'm trapped here, Rey. I'm at the mercy of an omnipotent madman and a handful of self-serving people I'm told to call 'wardens'. You aren't here to help anyone. You're here for a deal. We all know that. So the best I can hope for on a good day is that you and the other wardens have better self-control and better judgment than I do. And every time one of you beats one of us and gets away with it, it just rubs it in that I'm your prisoner. I'm stuck here under your boot and you can do anything you want to me."
He pauses for a sharp breath, because now that he's speaking, it's more truth than he actually wanted to share. "The reason I care about Tommy is because I have hurt him, deeply, and you know what he did? He gave me a second chance. In return he got my loyalty. I would kill for him. I have killed for him; and I care enough about him that I'll sit back if he tells me to. I betrayed Steve Rogers, and do you know what he did? He didn't put a fist through my face, and he could have. And no one would have stopped him because I'm an unruly, murderous inmate, and he's a warden. That's what it's like here. So why do I care about you? Because you can be better than this. Because Tommy believes you are, and he's not someone who believes in anyone. And maybe I need to believe in someone here, Rey--and if that's not you, if you're just another hypocrite getting a deal off the back of another inmate, say so. I'll respect your honesty. We'll still be civil."
She listens to him, really listens, because Alfie has made her realize that maybe that doesn't happen here. That wardens don't listen, they take what they know and they impress that on anyone who gets in their way with no ability to change their perceptions.
A lot of what Lark says lines up with the basics of what Steve had said. Wardens should be kept to a higher standard, they both expect better of her.
She was a child that grew up in the sand alone. All she knows how to do is fight and keep herself alive. Compassion is something she was never taught, and it's something she's still learning. People like Luke, like Tommy, they're helping, but she still has a long way to go and she knows that. The better they expect of her is something she's still learning to be.
"When I came here, it was just for my deal. I've been alone my entire life and I thought Han Solo might be able to change that. He was like the father I never had, and I watched his own son put a lightsaber through his chest and all I could do was watch. I came here for him, to bring him back."
Not entirely selfish, but there's no denying it had been her plan to do that and leave.
"His son is here, now, and it made me realize that bringing Han back isn't enough. His son has to change too. What good will it do to bring him back only to have him return to a son that's still lost to the dark side? I'm not just here for Han anymore, and I'm not just here to make sure his son changes. I want to help people. I want-"
But she stops there, abruptly, because she's getting too close to admitting that she doesn't mind the changes she's felt in herself. She doesn't want to tell Lark she's glad she's learned she has the capacity to hold someone like Tommy through a panic attack. That's private, that's hers.
"You said you heard in my explanation that I'm a warden and I beat an inmate badly, and I can't change that. All I can tell you is that I didn't want him to die and I- I'm afraid of the part of me that wanted him to suffer. You can ask Tommy about how I handled it."
He can't help but think that, if the old legends were true and there was one mad coyote stirring up the makings of the universe for laughs, then this is probably its handiwork. Not two days ago, Lark had been reaching a rocky agreement with Steve Rogers about accountability and impulsive, brutal decisions, and the lack of guilt over the violence. Steve can't make him regret killing T'Pol and Lark, apparently, can't make her understand how horrifying it is to have a warden out there who sees nothing wrong with abusing an inmate if she's angry enough. It's not that he doesn't understand; he does. He really does.
So. Fine. He'll just have to keep an eye on it. For right now, he believes her, and he's learned to latch onto whatever positive opportunity he can find.
"I think you could help a lot of people here, Rey. I know you've done a lot of good for someone I happen to care about." A flicker of a smile. "And he's told me a lot about himself, and his own thoughts. And I could ask him, like you say; but I'd rather hear it from you."
The simple truth is that she didn't do what she did out of anger. She did it out of desperation, out of fear, with the only goal being to make sure Han was never hurt again.
It's entirely possible Bull will ignore her, or that other people will hurt Han, but that's in the future and it's not something she's thinking of now. There was a door that was open because of Tommy, because she knows she's lonely and she wants that to end, but it's closing now and she can't really find it in herself to be sad about that.
"Stay safe." And he means that, from the moment he says it and well after he's out the door. Though he also knows the only person who would have come after her for Bull is long gone; it still seems a safe, general thing to say.
There's no need to warn her to fly right, and certainly no reason to tell her she will be under the scrutiny of the ship--of Rogers and Lark and probably Alec, if no one else. It would defeat the purpose.
And he could plead with her to be more careful in the future. He nearly does. Because he'd rather have more nights like they'd had, eating and laughing and dancing, giving her things to taste so she can develop favorites--a thing he suspects she's never been able to have before. Quite possibly, just coming here means they'll never have that again.
And worst of all, if it ever did come to Lark demoting her, it would end his friendship with Tommy. He knows that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Because of Tommy. She won't hurt him first, but she won't let him get away with anything either. He gets one more glance before she leads him through the ship, through the iconic common room with the holochess table, down a hallway, into the cockpit.
It's the Millennium Falcon, after all, and if he's seen the holos of Luke and Han's lives he'll recognize it.
"This is my home, in the world I come from. It was Han's first, and it's only mine now because he was murdered there too. He's still dead, there." When she turns to face him she's trying to keep her face blank and her tone even, but nothing about any of this will ever stop hurting her. If he looks closely, he'll see she's been crying recently. If he looks close enough he'll see her heart is broken and she's trying to hide it. "I was abandoned as a child and I grew up with nothing. Han Solo was the only person I ever thought might be my family, one day."
no subject
"I understand. Maybe better than you'd think," he says softly. He turns his attention briefly to the glass (or not glass? what do you use in a galaxy far, far away?) surrounding the cockpit. He first saw Star Wars when he was a child, back when it was still fresh in theaters, and even now being here is a rush. What he wouldn't have given to be here, back in middle school.
"I don't have family, either. And I'm one of very few people here who takes death seriously, even if it's temporary. But tell me what happened to Han? What does the Bull have against him?"
no subject
Han and Chewbacca had been one of her favorite stories a child, one she had heard from visiting Wookiees who considered Han the sidekick, and she had found Corellian ships in her flight simulators to teach herself to fly the Falcon when she was still very young and there was nothing to do on a planet of sand.
Han and this ship have meant so much to her so when she leans against the pilot's chair, it does its job, gives her strength.
"I don't know," she says honestly. "I just know he killed him. What I did has nothing to do with wardens or inmates to me. I did it because I needed him to know that if it happens again, if he hurts Han again, it isn't something that will go unpunished."
But she never wanted him dead. She had said she wouldn't stop if there was a next time, but that's a lie and it always will be.
no subject
But her explanation gets a raw laugh. "God. Do you know how much trouble I've been in because I did the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons?"
Except he'd done worse. But hush. "I meant it, Rey. I do understand. But you need to understand, too, that you're not here to handle things like you would at home. No matter how much sense it makes to us. You are a warden. You are always a warden, whether you're here in this-" a small pause, a faint smile as he looks at the controls "-or eating lunch, or beating an inmate because you didn't think his own warden would do their job. And it matters because the Bull used to be a warden, too. You're here to be better than you were at home, because that's the only way you can earn your deal. Otherwise? The inmates will take you down, and I don't just mean physically."
no subject
And then he says Bull used to be a warden too and her temper flares hot, her eyes burn as her neutral expression turns to one of anger. Alfie's words about being terrified of Bull will never, ever leave her, and she will not stand there and be compared to a monster.
"He never should have been one," she ssays hotly, and there's nothing but anger there. "The difference between us is I never wanted the Bull to die and if I had known someone would- would come after me and do what they did, I wouldn't have left. I would have saved him because I am a warden and his death should never have happened."
no subject
"But you choose to be here. You've got rights and privileges we don't. Maybe you don't think in terms of inmate and warden, but everyone else does. Just pay attention, that's all I'm asking. Your being watched and measured every second because you chose this job."
no subject
no subject
But he finds that when he shrugs and faces her more directly, he just goes with the real truth. There's nothing she can do with it that would hurt him. Probably.
"Because I'm trapped here, Rey. I'm at the mercy of an omnipotent madman and a handful of self-serving people I'm told to call 'wardens'. You aren't here to help anyone. You're here for a deal. We all know that. So the best I can hope for on a good day is that you and the other wardens have better self-control and better judgment than I do. And every time one of you beats one of us and gets away with it, it just rubs it in that I'm your prisoner. I'm stuck here under your boot and you can do anything you want to me."
He pauses for a sharp breath, because now that he's speaking, it's more truth than he actually wanted to share. "The reason I care about Tommy is because I have hurt him, deeply, and you know what he did? He gave me a second chance. In return he got my loyalty. I would kill for him. I have killed for him; and I care enough about him that I'll sit back if he tells me to. I betrayed Steve Rogers, and do you know what he did? He didn't put a fist through my face, and he could have. And no one would have stopped him because I'm an unruly, murderous inmate, and he's a warden. That's what it's like here. So why do I care about you? Because you can be better than this. Because Tommy believes you are, and he's not someone who believes in anyone. And maybe I need to believe in someone here, Rey--and if that's not you, if you're just another hypocrite getting a deal off the back of another inmate, say so. I'll respect your honesty. We'll still be civil."
no subject
A lot of what Lark says lines up with the basics of what Steve had said. Wardens should be kept to a higher standard, they both expect better of her.
She was a child that grew up in the sand alone. All she knows how to do is fight and keep herself alive. Compassion is something she was never taught, and it's something she's still learning. People like Luke, like Tommy, they're helping, but she still has a long way to go and she knows that. The better they expect of her is something she's still learning to be.
"When I came here, it was just for my deal. I've been alone my entire life and I thought Han Solo might be able to change that. He was like the father I never had, and I watched his own son put a lightsaber through his chest and all I could do was watch. I came here for him, to bring him back."
Not entirely selfish, but there's no denying it had been her plan to do that and leave.
"His son is here, now, and it made me realize that bringing Han back isn't enough. His son has to change too. What good will it do to bring him back only to have him return to a son that's still lost to the dark side? I'm not just here for Han anymore, and I'm not just here to make sure his son changes. I want to help people. I want-"
But she stops there, abruptly, because she's getting too close to admitting that she doesn't mind the changes she's felt in herself. She doesn't want to tell Lark she's glad she's learned she has the capacity to hold someone like Tommy through a panic attack. That's private, that's hers.
"You said you heard in my explanation that I'm a warden and I beat an inmate badly, and I can't change that. All I can tell you is that I didn't want him to die and I- I'm afraid of the part of me that wanted him to suffer. You can ask Tommy about how I handled it."
no subject
So. Fine. He'll just have to keep an eye on it. For right now, he believes her, and he's learned to latch onto whatever positive opportunity he can find.
"I think you could help a lot of people here, Rey. I know you've done a lot of good for someone I happen to care about." A flicker of a smile. "And he's told me a lot about himself, and his own thoughts. And I could ask him, like you say; but I'd rather hear it from you."
no subject
It's entirely possible Bull will ignore her, or that other people will hurt Han, but that's in the future and it's not something she's thinking of now. There was a door that was open because of Tommy, because she knows she's lonely and she wants that to end, but it's closing now and she can't really find it in herself to be sad about that.
"I'd like you to leave now."
no subject
There's no need to warn her to fly right, and certainly no reason to tell her she will be under the scrutiny of the ship--of Rogers and Lark and probably Alec, if no one else. It would defeat the purpose.
And he could plead with her to be more careful in the future. He nearly does. Because he'd rather have more nights like they'd had, eating and laughing and dancing, giving her things to taste so she can develop favorites--a thing he suspects she's never been able to have before. Quite possibly, just coming here means they'll never have that again.
And worst of all, if it ever did come to Lark demoting her, it would end his friendship with Tommy. He knows that.
He'd do it anyway.