The Space Cat Has Yet To Be Named

Laughter, The Cure All

They came back to the car, laughing and chatting. Sybil threw herself into the passenger's seat, despite the fact that her bag and blanket were in the back seat.

Max closed the door as he settled into the driver's seat. After a moment, the smile faded from his face a bit, the ghost of its happiness lingering before being overrun with a look of melancholy.

Sybil leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

His face twisted a bit in response as if he was looking for an answer. "It's just..." he trailed off. "... I haven't had this much genuine fun... or, really, laughed this hard, since I graduated from college... I'd always do something like this with Ethan or Travis, but..." he trailed off again, the somber look directing him to stare out the window, away from Sybil's interested gaze. "This is the first time I've managed to laugh and have fun and just be myself in years." He turned back to her, the guilt starting to show on his face again. "...and it just so happens to be with one of the worst victims of my atrocities.... It just... it feels wrong..." He sat back, his hands in his lap and his eyes on the ceiling of the car.

Sybil pulled her knees up to her chest, collapsing back into a seat that was slightly too big for her. "... You don't have to feel that way... I mean, it's normal that you do, but you can't keep yourself from living because of it. We all have survivor's guilt about this..."

"It's not survivor's guilt." He stated firmly. "I didn't merely survive this, I caused it." Sybil didn't flinch at the sudden bitterness in his tone. "What I did was my choice. I killed them, and I hurt you. Do you really think I deserve to be happy, especially around you?" A tired wobble crept into his voice.

"Yes. Of course. We've gone back and forth about this hundreds of times already, when will you get it that I'm not backing down. I was just as much the cause of this as you claim to be." She sat up, her steady gaze finally connecting with his. "We're at the center of this miserable catastrophe with no clear perpetrator to reliably pin the blame on. If it's not our fault then there's no point holding onto that guilt as if it reveals a truth, it'll only stifle the recovery."

His miserable look hardened into something more harsh. "You can't just clear me of all blame after the marks I left."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was. If I were to deny that I'd be denying every decision I made back then. I'd be denying my own capacity to do terrible things. I can't risk repeating the past." He turned the key, the engine growling to life, bringing the conversation to a grinding halt. He drove them around the block and into the city, away from the coast.

They sat in silence. Sybil leaned against the window, tugging her seatbelt taught. She watched the street lights go by. The sun was setting. They had spent almost all day out at the seaside, at the carnival and the park, just relieving stress. She hadn't meant to sour the mood. But she knew it was something that had to be addressed.

She closed her eyes, the hum of the engine lulling her back into her thoughts.

She sighed, not opening her eyes. "You know... I remember back when you first woke up, and you were staying with me and the four... you lost so much weight so quickly, you could barely walk... You told us you didn't eat, drink, or sleep with the Diamond... as if you didn't have to... it took so much effort to make you eat. You kept throwing it up every time..." She side glanced Max. His gaze was fixed stubbornly on the road ahead. She stared out the window. "...I checked with Benley when we visited your ship. He gave me the statistics..." She went quiet again, hugging her legs to her chest. "...You're so concerned with taking care of me when you won't take care of yourself..." She murmured. "Do you just hate yourself...? Is the guilt really that bad? Do you really hate yourself over something the Diamond did?"