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Marya Junková sat on the floor of the cockpit, knees close to her chest as she tried to come back to herself. Nothing felt quite real, and her head felt floaty as she gasped for air. She had not been in a sky battle since… since, well, Straka. She felt the cool wood beneath her hands, the cushion of her chair on the nape of her neck, the silk of her shirt fluttering with each heaving breath. She could not breathe, she could not move, she could not see. She was not real, she was not good, she was not supposed to be here-
"C- Marya?" a quiet voice asked. Vanellope Chapman had, apparently, entered the cockpit. Based on the distance in her voice and the faint sound of the door opening not a moment earlier, she guessed Van was leaning against the doorframe. Her vision still swam with panic, though. She could not get the breath to answer, and she heard a high keening sound. It was only when she heard the door click shut and Van's boots move lightly over the floor that she realized the noise was her. She felt Van kneel a foot or so away from her, the heat radiating off of her still strong enough to startle Marya. She had run cooler, Marya supposed, since losing her arm, but she had worked up quite a sweat in the battle. "You alright? Didn't get hurt, did you?"
Marya could only shake her head. She opened her eyes, adjusting to the bright light filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Van was next to her, having moved from her assumed kneel to a proper seated position. She slowly reached out a hand, an offer of touch. Marya considered it. On one hand, she did not want to let anyone close- not as close as Comfrey had been, as Van had been, as Ludmilla had been. She did not want to hurt anyone else or put them in danger. On the other hand, she could really use the comfort she knew full well Van was able to provide. She settled on shrugging- noncommittal either way, handing the control to Van. She would let Van do whatever she liked, really, she always had. It only scared her a lot less now than it did when she was 25.
Van sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before settling on a gentle, inspecting touch over the place where her now-rolled up sleeves usually fell. The thick bands of bunched fabric always left marks on Marya's wrists, and Van carefully ran her fingers over those. Marya felt a whine catch in her throat, the gentle affection driving her up a wall. She did not want to let Van in, she did not want to worry her, she did not want to scare her with what she had seen in the intervening years since they had last seen each other. She suppressed a shudder beneath Van's fingers.
"You're not hurt, are you? I think I caught all the hits thrown your way," Van asked softly.
"I am-" Marya cleared her throat. "I am not hurt, no." She exhaled shakily. "Thank you, Vanellope."
"Of course, Mar. That's a boatswain's duty, protectin' her captain." That earned a quiet laugh- just a giggle, hardly loud enough to hear, but enough that Van visibly relaxed. Van's hands moved from Marya's wrists up to inspect her collarbone, inspecting where her shirt fell from her shoulders. They lighted over the burn on her right shoulder, and her whole body jerked as she startled. "Shit, sorry."
Marya shook her head. "It is okay," she said softly. "Only startled me." Van hummed, and the way her hand traced over Marya's skin set her nerves ablaze. She remembered the last time someone had been this soft with her, the last time someone had cared so much, the last time someone had bothered to be as gentle. Flashes of brown hair, an all-too familiar accent, more love than she deserved. Marya must have started shaking again, because Van's palm pressed to her shoulder.
"You're alright, Junker. I've got you." Van moved so her legs were on either side of Marya and held her arms out, an offer of a desperately-needed hug. Marya hesitated for only a moment before the sad, scared part of her brain took the controls and she scrambled into Van's arms. Van folded her into the hug, wrapping strong arms around her shoulders and squeezing tightly. Her fingers wound into Marya's hair- greasy, and definitely not pleasant to touch- and ran through it the way she had years ago. "That's it. You're okay. You're safe."
Marya could only whimper, curling up in Van's lap as much as she could from this angle. Van noticed- though, Marya supposed, it was quite obvious- and laughed, helping Marya settle. Warm hands rubbed over Marya's back as she eventually steadied her breathing, though the chill and its accompanying shiver did not quit. "Thank you," Marya whispered eventually, letting the shake show in her voice. "I do not- I do not deserve such kindness."
"Marya," Van admonished. "You more than deserve it." The glassiness in Van's eyes made her want to believe it as badly as she had wanted anything. As badly as she had wanted Van, all those years ago, in the years between, now. And then, quieter, "You deserve the world."
Marya's breath stuck in her lungs again. She could not let Van's fantasies of her, fantasies that she was good and worthy and not left here as some form of divine punishment, bleed into her own mind. She could not believe Van, no matter how badly she wanted to.
"I don't know how I can best convince you, Marya, that you're worthy of love. All I can think of is to remind you every day, in every way I can think of, until you finally believe me." Van's voice was slightly muffled by Marya's hair, and she pressed a soft kiss to Marya's head. "We should… maybe get off the floor, yes? My knees are not nearly what they used to be, and I can't imagine yours are either." That drew a laugh from Marya, and again she watched tension melt from Van's shoulders.
"Okay," Marya whispered. "Let us- let us go downstairs."
"I was thinking your quarters, darlin'. You look like you haven't slept a full 8 hours since you left the Zephyr." That was, unfortunately, true. Van read her like a book- she always could. Van must have noticed Marya wince because she grimaced. "Nightmares?" Marya could not lie to her, not now. She nodded, shame flooding her chest, and Van only squeezed her tighter.
"I cannot stop- I see it happen, every time I close my eyes. I see her, I see Comfrey, I see- I swear that- that sometimes I see you." Marya swallowed down the sob threatening to spill over. "I see them- and you- being taken, being burned, being killed, all while I sit and watch and I cannot do anything to stop it."
Van held her closer. Marya could not let the sob out, she could not let Van see her cry, she could not show her hand-
She watched a pale hand move up to her face, wiping a tear from her face. That only increased the tightness in her chest, but Van only held her and pulled her closer.
"Don't worry, captain. I won't tell anyone. Let's get you to bed, yeah?" Marya only nodded, her face buried against Van's collarbone. "You're safe." Van stood up with seemingly little effort, even with Marya in her arms- though, she supposed that she was far smaller than she had been a decade ago- made sure the coast was clear, and darted into her quarters. Van's and Bert's quarters. Marya tried to squirm from her arms, feeling intrusive and out of place and burdensome-
"Marya." Van's voice was stern. "Quit thinkin', angel. Do you wanna change clothes?" Marya's heart was beating out of her chest. "Ah, who am I kidding, you'd kill me before you let me let you sleep in that corset. Can I set you down and trust you not to run?"
"I- Van, I cannot intrude like this."
"You're not intruding, captain, I invited you here. I brought you here. Do you think I'd have done that if I didn't want you here?" There was that word again. Captain. She had not been a captain for a very long time, nearly seven years, but… if Van felt she was the captain, if Monty believed in her, if Olethra needed her-
Well. Third time is the charm, right?
"Thank you, Van." Marya let Van set her down. "You are… too kind."
"Never as kind as you deserve, doll. Now, let me grab you a nightgown, yeah? You need some rest before we can get anything else done." She turned to the closet. The walls of Van's quarters were lined with small trinkets Marya hardly remembered making. "Now, I've gotta go make sure Pappy's at the wheel and get us somethin' to eat, yeah? Will you be okay for a moment?" Marya could only shake her head. "Alright, no problem. Walk with me?"
Marya followed behind Van like a lost puppy for a moment before Van grabbed her hand gently. She peeked into the cockpit, noting Dawderdale at the wheel.
"Dawdledale!" Van called. "Keep us flying straight, yeah?" She shut the door to the cockpit.
"You are so mean to her." Marya giggled a bit. "It is not her fault that Gotch has a Karakamachi pilot flying our ship." Van squeezed Marya's hand and tugged her to the galley. Marya had half a mind to hide behind Van as she stepped into the room. Bert was cooking up a storm, and she did not really want Bert to see her.
"Hello, lovey," Bert greeted warmly, pushing up on his tip-toes to kiss Van. "Hello, captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We need some comfort food, sweetheart. You got any sweets hiding in here?"
"Besides you two?" Bert teased. "I've got some apple cake from the other night in the icebox, I'll heat it up. Any requests, captain?"
"Just call me Marya, please." She was shocked the words fell out of her mouth. "Do you have anything- anything salty?"
"Oh, of course, Marya. Do you prefer potatoes or cheese?"
"Do you… have something with both?" Marya could hear Van fail to stifle a snort, and almost fell back into her head.
"You may fascinate a woman by giving her a piece of cheese." Van nodded solemnly and pulled Marya into a hug. "Should be some cheesy potato bombs in the icebox. I was sure I grabbed them." Bert nodded resolutely and pulled a container out, and from what Marya could see through the frosted-over glass they looked delicious.
"Ah-ha! I'll toss these in the oven to heat them up. You want some water, lovies?"
"Please," Van responded before Marya could answer. "It's gettin' hot outside." Marya was grateful, though- her throat was dry and scratchy, and she had been crying. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face against Van and fall asleep, but Van sat her down at the breakfast nook in the galley and held her hands while they waited for the food to be ready.
"You are too kind," Marya said again softly. "Too kind to me. I have never deserved it."
"Marya, you aren't going to convince me to let you wallow like this. I l- I care about you. More than I could ever tell you." Van squeezed her hand and, slowly, raised it to her lips. She did not kiss her hand yet, not until Marya nodded slowly. "You're safe here, captain. I won't let anything happen, yeah?"
Luckily for Marya, Bert placed hot containers of cheesy potatoes and apple cake in front of them.
"Here you are, darlings. I'm guessin' you're going to lay down, yeah?" Marya nodded mutely, and Bert kissed Van softly before she stood up. He turned to face Marya. "May I kiss your forehead?" Marya could only nod again. "Good luck, loves. I'll see you when I see you."
Van scooped up the containers with her left hand, holding Marya's hand with her right as she guided her back.
"There you are, darlin', why don't you change? I'll turn around."
Marya would not have minded if she had not turned, but regardless, she quickly tugged off her clothes and pulled on a nightgown she had certainly bought decades ago. It was so very 1360s. She spun around and cleared her throat.
"How do I look?" Van's eyes went wide.
"You look- well, captain, you look great." Van had removed a few layers, left only in her trousers and combinations.
"Thank you." A beat. "You do as well."
"Thank you." Van tugged her gently to the bed. "Now, relax with me, yeah?"
Marya let herself curl up in Van's arms before leaning up to look at her. Not with any expectation behind it, but a question.
"Use your words, Junker," Van teased.
Marya huffed and rolled her eyes. "Can I kiss you?"
"Please do."