shipmaster | (no subject)

[Roic leads the way, up one flight, down one hall. With the Prime Minister position being gently ushered on to new hands, Simon had reluctantly given clearance for Aral to be set up in one of the upper rooms with the large bay windows. The gentle hum of the force screen outside was a constant, but the stretch of windows let in a warm wash of morning sun. One wouldn't even know how bitterly cold it was outside, just by the gentle rays across polished wood and down blankets.

Near the bed, Countess Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan looks up from where she'd settled, a heavily cushioned dark maple chair. Her hair was pinned up neatly from her neck, and the folds of the fashionable dress bore leaf patterns and a gentle rusty hue - a rememberance of autumn. She swept herself up, cutting off her low conversation with the Count to sweep up her son in a quick hug.]

I'll remind you both that you're both healing. Try not to overdo it. [She pulls back, her grey eyes warm... worried... for perhaps more than just the two Vorkosigan men's physical health.]

You've fretted enough for the whole District, dear Captain. [Came from the bed, barely a rumble. Count Vorkosigan had pulled through the surgery like a fighter, few complications. He was still thinned from the ordeal, a little grey from the recovering circulation, but the eyes here were sharp and clear... falling eagerly to the son he hadn't seen yet.] Come in, boy. Don't be a ghost at the door.

[Cordelia hesitates, squeezing Miles' hand before slipping out the door, closing it behind her.]

[ A ghost at the door. That's what Miles feels like as he stares at the great man laid low in his bed. Aral Vorkosigan. Miles' father ... His memories light up faintly in response, but - as has been the case with the rest of Barrayar so far - it all feels distant. Like peering at them through a shroud.

He squeezes his mother's hand in response and approaches the bed. It's the eagerness that makes him worry the most. He's going to disappoint this man, he's sure of it ... ]

Count Vorkosigan. [ Wait, shit. Is that the right thing to say? He amends it to a tentative: ] Father? How are you feeling?

[It wasn't. Immediately, visibly, it wasn't. The man moves to sit up to get a better look and... stops for some unseen pain and settles back. Those piercing gray eyes never leave Miles though, consternation clear, a bit wondering if this was Mark, somehow. Shed a pile of weight, perhaps, but the nerves, the address.

Damn his chest though.]

They say it was an inch and a rib, but I'd swear that surgeon did a butcher's job in there. I'm told it's fine.

[And to stop moving, stop taking lines out. For the love of all that's holy stop trying to log into the work comm. Aral is a very selective listener.

It's not the case right now, his attention is quite fully on Miles.]

And you? You've had a sight more work done.

[ Still messed it up, didn't he. Those gray eyes look as though they can see right down to the very bottom of Miles' soul. He at least scoots his chair a little closer to give the man less reason to have to sit up. It very much looks as though moving pains him. ]

I'm ... I'm fine. The Duronas did good work - clean bill of health from the medical scans. [ Except he hadn't told them about the seizures, so they hadn't performed all the tests needed. ] Better how that I'm back here.

[ He doesn't say home. He should have said home. ]

[It's a moment before the man answers. Less shows on Vorkosigan's face now, not cold.. merely inward.]

Your mother mentions that you'd probably had to deal with some cryoamnesia.

[ Miles nods slowly at that. ]

Ah, yes. I was terribly confused for a while. The Duronas didn't know who I was, and then the planet we were stranded on was completely unfamiliar.

Better than being dead, right?

[That was a pain that had nothing to do with his ribs or heart. Even as prepared Aral and Cordelia had been all of their lives, no one is quite ready to outlive their children. No one is ever ready.]

Anything is better than that.

[It was a reflex, reaching towards Miles... but it was like the edge of the bed was some force field. His hand settled back on the bedding.]

Tell me something about that. The planet. Your mother is itching. I imagine if I hadn't gotten this little setback she'd want to be right out there.

[ Miles' own hand twitches towards Aral, but he can't seem to close the gap either. It seems he can do nothing but misstep here...

The strange planet is worlds easier in comparison. Miles brightens exponentially, some of that vivid light returning to his eyes. He seems himself again. ]

It was incredible. Or it would have been if not for all of us being terribly stranded. All desert, with these amazing trilobite creatures. We fought off one of their Queens. Alas, I missed the best part of that...

[While not as sharp as Cordelia, even on his best days, Aral learned aa few of Miles more obvious tells.]

Missed?

[ Oh. Shit. Miles tenses almost imperceptibly. ]

Passed out, alas. I woke up and it was all over.

[Aral had seen the medical reports as well, and the lack of anything wrong on them. He frowns. ]

If that iron stomach is giving you trouble, see the physician now sooner than later.

[ Miles shakes his head sharply at that. ]

No, no. It was my head. Temporary. Side effect of the cryo amnesia - nothing to worry about.

Hm. [The Count's worry remained, but it spoke to the limits of energy that he DOES let things rest.] Well, as long as they've given you the clear on that.

[ Miles hesitates a fraction of a beat. ]

You've seen the results yourself, haven't you? All the results are fine. I'm recovering quite well.

Good.. I'm glad. [He lets out a long breath.]

Are you staying long?

[ That's the million Betan dollar question isn't it. Miles himself doesn't know the answer to that. He folds his hands in his lap, looking down at the floor. ]

Cordelia wants me to stay until I have my head sorted out. That seems wise enough.

[ This time, he doesn't even notice the slip of the tongue he's made. ]

[It's less of a slip and more of a gulf. There'd always been a gap, a certain inability to communicate that lingered well into adulthood. Left them with grand gestures but so few simple, common words. Like love. Or proud. Or need.

And nothing for how to address THIS. He didn't even know the emotion it brought up, too complicated to term it to one word.]

She often is. Wise, that is.

[The feeling that there should be words here, something to push the right way, stir the right thing... But nothing came. He simply settled for:]

... In the mean time, get some rest.

[ The feeling of wrongness that settles over him at that is stark. Not at their odd, clouded relationship - that much is normal - but at that strange look he observes on Aral's face. On his father's face. On -

He swallows thickly, looking back down again. ]

If I rest any more the bed may swallow me up. I was hoping to visit the stables.

[ And he abruptly realizes that this is the last thing he wants to do to try and remember. If at the end of this he still feels alien ... then he's going to quietly find the next ship out and disappear. ]

That is a good idea. [The Count's face warms slightly. A hope in contrast to Miles' sinking feelings.]

Fat Ninny's in the VIP stall at the moment. Roic can help with the tack. [Not said, but powerfully loud anyway was the "if you've forgotten."]

[ He kind of has. Realizing that fact makes him pale slightly more. ]

All right. I'll pay him a visit then. He likely remembers better than I do.

Belike.

[He sinks back into the small mountain of pillows that had been set up around him for the recovery just. To gather himself again.]

Miles. [Another hesitation, this one longer.] If this does mean beginning over, that's welcome too.

So you know.

[ Miles takes in a sharp little breath at that. Start over? The thought is simultaneously comforting and terrifying. From what he remembers of Aral, he expects the man means it. But... ]

Isn't it a little late for that? [ He stares steadily ahead, seeing nothing. ] It can't possibly be easy on you two either.

[That catches an ironic smile.]

I've never been in it for easy.

Well - no, but --

[ Miles looks at Aral's chest rather bluntly. ]

You need to recover too. I know Cordelia didn't send me in here to make your life more difficult.

I'll let the physicians worry about it. They'd be bored otherwise.