reflection ● jason grace

The fight

 Daria knocked on Jason's door.

She was used to checking up on him. She'd done it after the siege; she did it when Nathan told her about the cigarettes. Now, her hand shook as she knocked again. She wasn't really here to comfort him this time. But she gave the centurion room to Michael to avoid drama with the augur and they couldn't fight in there anymore.

Was it desperate? Yes. But there was a slight twinge of hope that maybe Jason hadn't meant to ignore her for the past couple of days as she holed up in her cabin, too weary to do anything except check up on Mitch in the Med Bay sometimes and hide from Octavian.

"You can come in, Daria," Jason said plainly. Her hand was sweaty on the doorknob. She shouldn't have been as nervous as she was, but a lot had changed since last time.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked as she entered the same white pristine bedroom she'd known for the last three years.

Jason was laying on his bed, throwing a rubber ball up and down. Other than his voice, he made no indication he was aware of her presence. "There's only one person stupid enough to come find me after I've been such a dick to everyone."

Daria hesitated. "I really can't tell if that's a compliment."

"It's not," he muttered, finally sitting up, placing those azure blue eyes on her. "Why can't you do what's good for you, Daria?"

It was the first time he said her name since they entered the Labyrinth that first time. He didn't sound mad, just exhausted, like they all were. And maybe, Daria thought hopefully, there was a twinge of regret hidden in there somewhere.

She pushed her glasses up, mouth curving into the smallest of smiles as she answered his rhetorical question. "Never been too great at that."

He tossed the rubber ball back and forth again. "So what's up? Michael says you haven't come out of your room in two days."

"Michael needs to shut-"

"So true," Jason interrupted. "But that's not what I asked. You're allowed to sit, you know."

Daria sat. "Are you going to let me finish a sentence?"

He fixed his eyes on her again. Though his shoulders were still tense with mistrust, his palms were turned up in front of him. He wasn't planning on being defensive. "Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Well, I think you know the answer to that, Jason."

There was that silence again. Cold and awkward and on the brink of disaster. Daria started tapping her fingers on the desk; Jason started picking at his nails. They looked anywhere except for each other for a few seconds. But he didn't tell her to get out, and she didn't move to leave.

"Is it going to be like this forever?" Daria asked finally. "You holed up alone forever, and me being anywhere else?" She laughed bitterly at the end.

"I don't know," he said again, and Daria was almost starting to believe him. But this wasn't her Jason; he may trust her, but she didn't feel the same yet. "What's the alternative?"

Daria stared at him. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Don't swear," he muttered, picking at hem of his shirt. "It's weird coming from you."

She gritted her teeth together. Jason was being infuriating, and Daria was done playing games. "Will you just tell me the truth?"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "Why are you saying that like you know something?"

Daria's mouth twitched – she wasn't used to him being able to read her. "I talked to Ryan a few nights ago."

"Huh," Jason put his tongue between his teeth like he was one step away from yelling at her. "That's nice. Get out of my room now please."