Y2K Part Two | scifipony

Washington, DC
January 1st, 2000

“Ugh, I hate these things,” Desmond complained yet again as his wheelchair hit the sidewalk curb and refused to budge. “Seriously, we’re living in an era of space exploration and the kind of technology that used to be vague sci-fi concepts. Why haven’t we figured out mobility devices that actually aid in mobility?”

Behind him, Majestros ignored the rant and simply adjusted the wheelchair, pushing it up over the curb and onto the sidewalk. He was gradually learning that Desmond often didn’t mean anything by these tirades. He simply liked to complain. (Not that he didn’t have a fair point, though; Majestros was frequently baffled at how little care Earth’s inhabitants took in dealing with their disabled.)

Not that he was about to concede the point verbally, of course. After all, the young genius had been the one to suggest this little outing.

Given how distinctly un-festive their New Year’s Eve had been, Desmond insisted they compensate by having their own celebration the next day. He’d also insisted they go ‘incognito’ as regular civilians — hence, the wheelchair instead of his usual robotic chair.

Thankfully, the holiday landed on a weekend this year, so the rest of the city’s population was still happily celebrating as well. Washington, DC was also having an unseasonably warm spell, so the festivities had spilled out of the crowded restaurants, dance halls, and residential homes to take to the streets. Christmas lights and wreaths intermingled with New Year’s lanterns and streamers. Banners celebrating the beginning of the new millennium (something which had set off an entirely different rant from Desmond when he saw them) were stretched across streets and doorways everywhere. They were in somewhat of an outlying district at the moment, so the atmosphere was considerably more casual and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Majestros wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this, but he was determined to let Desmond dictate the evening’s proceedings. He couldn’t quite shake the guilt at not having been there when his closest ally needed him most. The fact that he had been within moments of being murdered when Maj found him…

“Here, this looks good,” Desmond spoke up, pulling the Kherran out of his thoughts.

They were stopped in front of a sidewalk cafe where a small crowd was sitting around the patio tables, drinking, laughing, and even dancing to the music spilling out of the little building. Lanterns and strings of lights were hung everywhere overhead, while the tables and retaining walls had a myriad of candles spread over every surface. The result was bright enough to almost forget it was nighttime. Streamers in crimson red and mustard yellow and every other hideous color imaginable were strung up all around the area. The street along the patio’s edge was quiet enough that several couples were even dancing out that way without fear of getting hit by passing cars.

Desmond wheeled himself over to one of the empty tables and scooped up a menu. “I’m starving,” he said, waving a hand at the chair across from him. “Saving the world really works up an appetite.”

Majestros smiled as he sat down. “You did a fine job, Desmond. If not for you, there wouldn’t even be a celebration to attend right now.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” His friend glanced around at the other partygoers, most of them dancing or toasting the new year. “It’s weird to think about, huh? I mean, before working for the government, I don’t think I paid too much thought to how… fragile all of this is. But, just in the past three months alone, we’ve averted at least a dozen world-ending disasters. Kinda scary when you stop and think about it for a second.”

He didn’t comment on it. Truthfully, Majestros didn’t need to stop and think about it because that very thought never left his mind. He was painfully aware what a delicate balance the life on this planet was bound to — and how easy it was to break that balance.

“Well, if we had been plunged into the Dark Ages, at least these people were prepared,” Desmond said with a laugh. He gestured at the many candles and lanterns surroundings them. “Guess they figured it was better safe than sorry.”

“Not a bad practice,” Majestros commented lightly.

A waitress joined them a moment later and they both ordered. Maj wasn’t particularly hungry, but he ordered the same as Desmond, assuming the younger man wouldn’t mind keeping the leftovers for his next all-night session in the lab. Sometimes it was a real challenge to pry the genius away from his work. He was slowly learning that strategy and trickery were sometimes necessary for getting Desmond to take care of his own well-being, such as food and rest.

“So, what about you?” Desmond asked as they waited for their food. “You get a chance to clear your head a little?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.” He deflated somewhat against the back of his seat. He hesitated a moment, as if afraid to say the next words, before steeling himself. “Y’know, there are people who can help with this sort of thing…”

“I’m fine,” Majestros cut him off.

“Sure, yeah, you’re completely fine,” Desmond said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “You’ve only been moping around for weeks now.”

“Desmond—”

“Okay, listen,” he said, sitting forward, eyes piercing into him. “I get it. You’re this big tough alien warlord who doesn’t need anybody. Whatever. But you aren’t fine. And I can’t just not care about that. I know you don’t see our partnership this way, but I consider you my friend, Maj. You have no idea how hard it’s been watching you hurting like this and unable to do anything about it.”

Majestros sat back in seat, unable to formulate a response. The guilt that had already been gnawing at him came rushing back in force. Here he was beating himself up about neglecting Des this one day, and apparently the neglect had been there a lot longer before that. Thinking back on it now, he could easily remember how often he’d slighted or ignored Desmond’s attempts at conversation these last weeks. Worse, how short he’d been with him during their recent missions. It was easy for him to forget the social needs of others. He would have to be more mindful of that from now on.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Maj. I want you to stop shutting me out.”

He sighed. “I’m… not great at that sort of thing. Socializing and relationships. It’s not something I’ve tried to build, or maintain, since arriving on Earth.”

“Plenty of humans are introverts, too,” Des told him. “There’s nothing wrong with that. But there’s a difference between being reserved and being an outright isolationist. You’ve been on this planet for how many centuries? You’re gonna need to talk to people at some point.”

Was that really how others saw him? Cold and isolated? “I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored.”

“Eh, don’t worry about me.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. That’s not what I was trying to get at.”

“No, but it is something I should address.” Majestros sighed and pushed aside his table setting, folding his hands in front of him. This wasn’t easy to discuss, but he needed to make sure Desmond understood. “For the past two decades, you’ve been an invaluable ally in my fight to protect Earth. I couldn’t have accomplished half of what I’ve done if not for your help.”

Desmond shifted self-consciously. “Look, much as I appreciate this ego boost, you don’t have to make a big deal outta it. I’m just as invested in keeping Earth safe as you. It happens to be my home planet, y’know.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve been treating you as a colleague, and only a colleague. For that, I apologize. You have earned my trust and I will try to take your concerns and feelings into consideration more after this.” He blinked and looked down at his hands. “This thing with my… with my son… it’s not something I’m ready to talk about. Probably not something I’ll ever be willing to talk about.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Desmond said gently. “Just as long as you know that — as much as this whole thing obviously hurts you more than I can ever understand — you don’t have to hurt alone. You’ve still got people who care about you.”

He let the words sink in for a long minute. His upbringing, being trained and molded into the perfect warrior, hadn’t really taught him how to handle these sort of emotions. Warlords weren’t expected to show personal weakness. As such, he buried the warmth and tears that were building inside, tucking them away safely behind his heart. They couldn’t come out, but he didn’t want to forget how they felt.

“Thank you, Desmond. I want you to know the same applies to you, as well. I shall be there for you whenever needed. You’re a trusted ally… and a good friend.”

The young genius perked up, eyes shining brightly. “Wow, Maj. Uh, thanks.”

Thankfully, the waitress reappeared a moment later, setting out the plates of food before retreating again.

Apparently as ready to be done with this soul baring as he was, Desmond scooped up his fork with a smile. “About time,” he said, tone sliding back into its customary joviality. “I’m starving.”

Majestros smiled and started on his own meal. Things might not be the same between them as they had been — and probably wouldn’t for a while yet — but they’d taken a good first step on that road to healing. And one thing he’d learned over the millennia was that, some days, you had to take the small victories for what they were. Today was a good start. He could live with that.

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