Chapter Text
Alisa had always loved the idea of exploring the world.
From the moment she first woke up in the laboratory, she longed to see the planet for all it could offer. She longed to experience the Slavic winter, to lie on the freezing ground and feel the snowflakes settle on her skin. She'd yearn to hold onto the freezing solitude, hours spent in the cold embrace of the snow, body buried among the barren trees. But she'd also long to feel the beach sand cling to her bare back, have the scorching summer sun redden her pale skin. She wants to hear both the winter silence and the seaside laughter because they both made her feel human, as if she was naturally made to be one with the world. All she longs to experience is the Earth and its beauty, all of its simplicity.
Well, it wouldn't be exactly correct to say that's all she'd long for, but she might as well say it was. She knows she'd be gone before that delusion would ever come true anyway.
But unfortunately for her, most of her 'experiences' these days consists of flying boats, standing thousands of miles above the grass, sands and snow. Nowadays the best relief she can afford is to stare at the sparse specks of white in the sky, and in the more lively days, imagine herself plunging into the blue and never returning to the aircraft again. Some days she genuinely considers it, stands at the very verge of the hangar, the grating hum of the aircraft's engine driving her to near insanity.
But no matter how unhinged she feels, no matter how insane, she'll always be sane enough to know that the scraping cacophony, the grinding hum of the engine wouldn't even be comparable to the disapproving silence she'd face if she really did hurl herself off.
So, she stays.
For now all she can do is imagine, because she has no choice but to settle with being locked up in the metal chamber of an aircraft, as if her own body wasn't enough of a metal chamber as is.
"Starting descent. Prepare for landing"
The speakers echo, noise filling the barren space. She wants to believe that this could be another opportunity for her to feel at peace, to spend just another moment in nature, feel the way she felt before, and yet all she ever finds when she steps onto the concrete, and later onto the grassy land, is nothing. She feels nothing but numbness, more hopelessness, and she doubts it would change this time.
By this point, she's become too engrossed in the tasks she'd dedicate herself to, sacrificed the silly pleasures just for the smallest chance of impressing him, of hearing a "good job" or "well done". She cannot let him down; the stakes are too high now. She does not engage with the pleasures of nature anymore. The only part of it that makes her feel is all in her head, all in the past. It's all just wishful thinking.
But that's what makes her recall the SUV, the time before she ruined everything.
The bleating lambs, the quiet temple, a warm bowl of noodles in the middle of the bustling Chinatown. She'd recall everything, each second extending in her mind and branching out into all the treasured memories she'd keep in the back of her head. When she's back in the car, she'd recline into the cold embrace of the leather seats, eyes staring out at the trees and fields zooming past her. Sometimes he’d start a conversation to break the white noise, other times he’d remain silent. Yet even in those quiet moments, there was a comforting presence. There was no tension, no resentment, just a shared peace.
At the end of the day, she'd lie in the SUV with the ignition off, and she'd stare out at whatever image of nature that she had been blessed with that day, a silent forest and a starry night, a flowing river and paddy fields. She'd await the next day and smile at it's chaos because back then the chaos was what comforted her. It was the notion that no matter what she'd face the next day, he'd still be there for her. She'd step out into the new day and see the sun again, and she'd see him with her.
But she doesn't get that anymore, doesn't get the conversations, the summer smiles, not even the comforting silence. All that's left in their silence is a distant echo, a withering rustle of leaves. Even standing next to him feels uncomfortable. She feels a divide, a shift in his demeanor that mirrors the way that nature too has turned against her. She once caught his eyes darting away from her when she looked to him, and it felt like a pallid fog, like soot on her skin and in her system. She felt dull, drained of the life she'd often see in the nature that once surrounded her.
She should've known from the souq, from their first mission after reuniting, from how infuriating the sand in her shoes felt, from how suffocating the desert sun was, from how meaningless the carnation made her feel now, from the fading nature of their relationship.
They would never be the same, and she would never get that same joy from nature again, no matter how much she longs for it.