Laura Roslin In 2x09 Flight Of The Phoenix

FOR ALL MANKIND | 3.03 ALL IN

#when bae looks spiffy

WIP Wednesday

I can't believe I've been watching For All Mankind and into space stuff generally for this long and have only just discovered that the real life Thomas Paine designed a flag for Mars. I had to work it into a fic especially since him telling Ellen about his love of the stars is one of my favourite moments in s2.

‘What was that you were working on?’ 

‘Oh that’s, it’s nothing really, a flight of fancy,’ Tom tried to pass it off casually, but secretly he was a little pleased when Ellen said, ‘Go on.’ 

‘It’s a flag for Mars, a proper flag. A true symbol for exploration, something for the whole world to rally around.’ 

Ellen was taken aback a little; she had always assumed he had been the one who demanded NASA use the Stars and Stripes back in ’69.

Tom retrieved the legal pad from where he had haphazardly hidden it. Ellen furrowed her eyebrows in an attempt to decipher the scribblings but Tom handily narrated.

‘If you notice, it goes diagonally upwards to represent progress, from the sliver of Earth, where we’re came to where we’re going. Mars is in the middle but the arrow to the star in the far corner is to show that it’s part of the journey not the final destination. I’m not much of an artist…’

‘I like it, it’s a beautiful vision. So how is the Mars program coming along?’

‘I’ve got time to daydream up flag ideas, I’ll let you figure it out.’

Part 1

I couldn't get any sleep last night so I watched the elevator scene again (as one does) and I can't find the previous discussion. But Margo definitely takes her shoes off during the pufferfish discussion and puts them back on when the elevator stops on the fifth floor. It's intentional, she sighs and lets her feet rest.

double sigh

Sigh.

Honestly I don't know which theory is cuter - (1.)that Sergei is indeed a total lightweight or (2.)that he goes along with it because it spares him from admitting it only took like 2 hours of her undivided attention to get him from this:

to this:

I recently rewatched THE scene from "Brazil" and was struck by how sad and resigned they both were. This "palate cleanser" of a fic under the cut is an interpretation of that scene. I've tried to lift their soul crushing sorrow a little (or made it worse?). My media literacy has grown so much reading fiction and analysis, but I'm just dabbling here. I got the urge to play a bit as I am not a creative writer (especially of the quality within FAM fandom-y'all rule).

(And a warning; Google translated Russian contained below!)

Sergei observed that there was a brief moment when Margo's gaze turned inwards to consider his gambit to escape Irina and the KGB that his spirit lifted. She was letting the idea take center focus. He didn't know if his heart would fare better with the limbo of her pause, or the finality of her answer. When her eyes fell to her hands and then back up to meet his gaze, his spirit fell back to Earth. He met eyes filled with regret.

Sergei knew then that they would never have more than what they’d had in the past. They were in the past. Unable to keep the disappointment off his face, his features soon matched hers. Resignation banished any further thought of Brazil.

They would never get the dream of blueprints over a shared kitchen table. Of kisses freely shared over clasped hands. Of working together on their shared passion. It was all beyond their capacity to realize.

He watched as her eyes wetted with unshared tears. Wanting to spare her the pain of explaining what he knew she felt she needed to do, he reached forward to cover her hand with his. She had learned too well in Moscow how tenuous matters were. He let the dream fade and focused on the present moment. They only shared the comfort of moments over their long association, and if this was to be the last, he was going to make it count.

When her hand rested on his and she returned his smile with her own half smothered version he stood up and tugged on her hand to do the same.

With only a brief hesitation she climbed to her feet. Margo wouldn’t meet his eyes at first, so he gently nudged her chin up with his hand. His heart ached in his chest but it would not fail, encouraged by the softness of her skin and her gaze as she met his eye. They always did seem to be on the same page.

He brushed along the curl of her hair, enjoying the feeling of her closeness. Taking a beat he nodded and pulled her into an embrace. She folded into his arms with a soft exhale. Having her in his arms again was almost too much after so long, but he couldn't help but feel lighter and a bit more whole. They both reacquainted each other with the warmth of their embrace. With a tightening of his hold on her, Sergei dared to push a little more.

“я бы хотел, чтобы ты меня поцеловал,” he said quietly into her ear.

Margo flushed brilliantly and closed her eyes. She eased back from him and shook her head at his incorrigible nature. A small smile flitted across her face. Sergei’s own smile quivered as he watched her face transform.

Opening her eyes, she brought one hand to his chest and the other to stroke his cheek. He leant into her cool hand. He felt his spirit soar higher and with Margo’s soft sigh, he knew she was lifted too.

Margo leant forward and pressed her lips to his. If this was their last moment, it would be a good one.

What began as a soft press of their lips deepened as they wrapped their arms around each other. Echoing so many earlier moments, it was over before they were able to get started.

Margo pulled away with a final caress of his cheek, and she turned back to the work on the table. Not ready to move from this moment just yet, Sergei's hand drifted up to rest on the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing her skin. Margo exhaled softly and reached up to rest her own hand upon his, gently squeezing his fingers. Sergei quirked a smile before stepping closer, gently pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

They both heard Aleida bustling through the house, coming back to the kitchen. With a final caress of her neck, Sergei sat heavily back at the table and gazed up at Margo as she busied herself collecting her papers. Margo was always the strong one.

His eyes took their fill of her, as his hands lay uselessly on the table, longing to hold her.

Aleida entered the kitchen ending their time together, “Are we done here?”

“Enough… for tonight,” Margo replied. Sergei dropped his gaze to his hands just as Margo reached over and nudged him. “We’ll speak again soon, yes?” Her eyes searched his.

“Yes… of course, Margo. Yes.” Was his hoarse reply.

One thing I think a lot about is how, as precious as the handhold was, we weren't shown Sergei and Margo's actual goodbye moment when she left Aleida's house in S4E9. I continue to hold out some hope that we may see this as a flashback in the next season (although if we do I'm sure it will kill me dead). But if we never see this scene, then we can continue believing it included whatever we want, yes? I desperately want at least one, if not both, of them to have said "I love you." I go back and forth about whether or not that would be in character. However, I've decided that the most emotionally devastating possibility is Sergei saying to Margo, "I would like you to kiss me." In Russian. And then it would break my heart if she didn't and break my heart even more if she did.

I was searching for this, lolz. I remember reading it before I watched For All Mankind and I was absolutely intrigued. This and all the wonderful gif sets got me to watch. So, kudos to all you fic writers who expound on characters and create such delicious explorations of character. ❤️

Sergei absently exchanged the blue marker for another colored marker from the tray, began shading in the sine wave. Orange. In lines like strands of hair. Margo’s hair. The memory of it soft through his fingers, of the scent of her hair, her skin, clean and warm, the sweet, strong smell of the brandy on her lips.

He moved to the negative half cycle, the white of the board again alternating through a fall of orange hair. He wondered when her hair had turned white. Did it happen slowly over the last eight years? Had the long, cold, lonely winters she wasn’t used to, hadn’t, couldn’t have prepared for, slowly leached the color from her hair, from her life? She was not meant for a cage, no matter how gilded.

Automatically, he filled in the last positive half cycle, the orange strands thinning and fading as his mind continued to wander and his pressure against the board slackened. Or had her hair turned white all at once in a shock? Was it upon learning of the bombing? Worry for her colleagues? Aleida? Did she blame herself? Was it something that happened after? Something they’d done to her? He froze. Lefortovo…

“Uh, Mr. Bezukhov?”

Slowly, he blinked, the whiteboard and the classroom refocusing around him.

“Mr. Bezukhov?”

Sergei turned, taking in the students behind their desks, their faces, some smirking, most disinterested, a few studious. Right. He had a class to teach. A life she’d paid for with her own. He owed it to her to live it. This thought had sustained him through the years, kept him moving forward, moving on. It didn’t matter that she was alive. It shouldn’t. It couldn’t. 

“So, as you can see, the current is not always constant.”

For All Mankind | Margo + smiling

"Even Margo's smiling."