sirenspull_logs | This is how it feels When the trust you had is broken

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This is how it feels When the trust you had is broken

Who: Diego Armando (

chiefdefense).
When: Evening on the 22nd, after this.
Where: Diego's apartment.
Summary: After Diego is taken ill, Mia learns exactly how much has been kept from her and she is not. Happy.
Warnings: Angst and heated words

[By the time Mia gets off the NV from Dr. Banner, she feels completely sick to her stomach and that same, dread sense of unease that she had hoped never to have to feel again in association with Diego. The news that he had had some sort of seizure on the train on his way home is so shockingly unexpected that it makes her head spin and suddenly she's 23 again, getting bad news from a stranger, but this time she has no explanation for it and she's not about to wait for one.

As soon as he gets home they're going to the emergency room, because healthy men do not suddenly collapse on trains and start fitting and she knows that with Maya and Phoenix gone, she absolutely cannot afford to lose Diego.

Not again.

To distract herself, she sets about petting Mir and listens out for the sound of Diego's key in the door.]

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That's alright, I will.

[She fortifies herself with another sip of coffee, not really sure where to begin herself, but someone has to get the ball rolling, and she's had a thousand questions since last night.

She starts with the first, her tone carefully calm and not far removed from how she'd start cross examining a witness.]

How often do you have episodes like yesterday?

[It does feel like a cross-examination, doesn't it?

And it feels kind of good not to have to scramble or lie. His tone is quiet and careful.]

Not often. Every few months or so.

I take anti-seizure pills every day to prevent it. They don't always work, though... sometimes if I'm sick or don't sleep or eat well.

Well you've not been sleeping well lately, I guess that explains it.

[This is good. Well... not good, the fact that he's having seizures at all is awful, but at least he knows what's bringing them on, and she can keep an eye on him to make sure he's not overdoing things.

The medicine not being a reliable preventative measure is a worry though.]

The doctors said that the poison was attacking your central nervous system. Is that what causes them?

Maybe.

[He takes another sip of coffee.]

My central nervous system looks like a hose somebody ran over with a lawnmower. The neurons don't always fire correctly. That medication helps for the most part... if I don't take it every day, I'm a mess.

[It's more than obvious he finds this completely embarrassing to discuss, not really looking at her.]

Define mess.

[She doesn't really want to know, but at the same time she wants to desperately. Understanding what's happened to him and what continues to happen to him is important.]

When it's bad, how bad is it?

[He sighs.]

I don't know. I don't really feel like playing Russian roulette with my synapses. I take it every day.

Good, because I don't want you to play Russian roulette with them either.

[She quickly kisses his cheek and then thinks of the next question.

The answer to this one she dreads.]

Are you in pain?

[He leans into the kiss on his cheek, smiling.

The smile fades at the question. He doesn't answer for a moment.]

Not always.

[Mia exhales when she hears that. It's better than what she was steeling herself for, but it's still not great.]

Will you tell me when you are?

[Beneath the visor he closes his eyes.]

You can usually tell.

I try to hide it, but you can see through me.

I'd say it's genetic, but I think it's really just a by product of being so invested in you.

[Today he looks tired and worn out, maybe he's pained and trying to hide it. She waits for a moment, and then rests her hand on his chest, where she knows that big, new scar comes from.]

What did the big scar come from?

[She doesn't want to add 'or was it something that happened back home after I died'?]

Maya could tell too.

[His breath hitches just a little at the question, and he sighs again.]

Most of my organs were damaged by the poison. None of them are in excellent shape, but... a year-

[He pauses.]

No. Two years ago. My liver failed.

And that's a transplant scar.

[Mia goes rigid beside him. She doesn't need to be told how serious that is; a long time ago Diego's doctor had laid out in precise, clinical terms what the key dangers of his condition were. Organ failure had been mentioned more than once, there had been talk of potential donors, transplants, or whether his body would even be strong enough to survive a major surgery like that even if it did come to that.

And apparently it had.

Horror and concern and the overwhelming relief that he'd made it through it okay, that he was alive and there had been someone whose liver had been a match- it's enough to make Mia's calm waver for a moment.

She takes a sobering breath.]

[That reaction stings him. This is the kind of thing he didn't want to dump on her, to make her worry about him for things that had already happened. He's very quick to comfort her, reaching for her hand.]

It helped a lot of other things when I got the transplant. It just... couldn't hold out anymore.

[He does decide, however, not to tell her how it came about. That was trauma for another day.]

I was lucky.

[Lucky? Yes, he was incredibly lucky to have found a donor, to have made it through the surgery, that it took- and it must have done if it was so long ago- and was working, but also unlucky that he ever had to have it in the first place.

She knows what it means. She knows that one day it might begin to fail again and he might have to have another surgery. She knows he'll be on immunosuppressants for the rest of his life so that his body won't reject the donor organ.

She takes his hand, squeezes it tightly.]

I know- I know you're lucky. God Diego, how you think you're not strong when your body's managed to survive all this-

[She kisses the back of his hand, a little lost for words.]

[He squeezes her hand back, the smile on his lips weak and weary. He shakes his head and sighs.]

Not through anything I did.

When you wake up every morning, feeling like this, knowing what you used to feel like- you know exactly how weak you are.

I'm sorry I didn't understand that yesterday.

[She abandons her coffee to nestle up against him, rest her head on his shoulder and place their joined hands over his heart.]

I can't imagine how it must feel and I wish I did, I wish I knew how I could help. But I know how it feels to be helpless, to wish that you're more than you are. How you just wish you could take back that one stupid moment before everything was ruined and do it all over differently.

[She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment.]

Diego, I would give anything to make this easier for you, anything.

I'm not allowed to hold it against you when I kept it from you.

[He's still a little weary, a little tired and moving a little slow, but he's eager to let her curl up with him, slipping an arm behind her.

It hurts to hear her lament like this, hearing her regret that she can't do anything... but she doesn't know just how much of an impact she had on him. How much her presence helps... and how much her absence gutted him.

No. He may have promised to tell her everything, but that... needs to stay in the past where it belonged. If it was so easy for him to throw his life away, it should be just as easy to throw away that second name and identity.]

You don't know how much it means to me that you're here. How- how much I missed you.

Every time I realize it really is you here with me-- it makes all the difference in the world.

I missed you too. It took me months to wake up and stop looking for you beside me.

[She nuzzles his jaw, revels in the closeness of him and wonders if she should tell him just how much she ached for him, how she'd wander aimlessly into the office and hope against all hopes that the phone would ring and it would be good news.

It had been five lonely years without him that she never wanted to relive again.]

You're the love of my life, Diego Armando.

Ha...!

[He tilts his head to press it against hers as best he can with his visor in the way. He squeezes her fingers and holds her tight, happy just to breathe beside her for now. He wouldn't have blamed her if she walked away for good last night.

With a sigh, he moves to press his lips to the side of her face, a very lazy kiss.]

So are you. I love you.

For what- [His breath hitches around the words.] For whatever I have left, whatever it's worth- I don't want to lose you.

I promise you I'm not going anywhere. I tried living without you and I hated it, do you really think I'd let you go when I've just got you back?

[She moves to kiss him, trying to put everything she wants to say into it, how she loves him, how she won't go for as long as she can help it, how she's sorry for everything, how he still takes her breath away even now he thinks he's weak and frail and not worth a dime of his former self.

She went to her grave loving him, she'd promise him forever if it was in her power to.]

[He laughs softly at that, one of his rare, genuine ones that are so unmistakable. He tilts his head to meet the kiss, and unlike all the others they've had so far, this one is more open, like a physical extension of finally letting her into his new life.

How did he ever wake up every morning without her?]

[Her lips curve beneath his into a smile as she hears that, kissing him with all she has until she has to break for breath, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn't let go of him.

She's half draped over his chest and she steals a quick peck of his lips.]

One last question...

[She's a little breathless, and she laughs when she hears herself.]

[It's a wonderful breathlessness at least. It feels to him like time has sped up around them and they have to struggle to catch back up again. His fingers toy with a handful of her hair and he laughs too, at her reaction.]

Just one?

For now.

[She kisses the tip of his nose, his lips briefly, and then her cheeks colour involuntarily at the prospect of asking this.]

Is... the reason why we haven't slept together because you didn't want to or because...?

[She doesn't want to finish with 'you can't', but it's a possibility, and right now, feeling his breath against her skin and his body beneath hers, she's very, very aware of just how long it's been and how much she she still wants him after five years of abstaining and a month of very reserved- and frustrating- petting and embraces.]

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