roseandheather wrote:
I was just coming here to post about them.
Love the relationship between Honor and Mike. Love it. Their reunion after Solon always freaking kills me, because they say so much with so little. They're not babbling about how happy they are to see each other, or how much they missed each other. Honor doesn't say one word about her absolute, rock-bottom despair when she thought Mike had been killed, and Mike doesn't ask. Because they know. They have known each other so long and so well, been through so much, and developed such a rapport that the words would be superfluous. It was all in that first, hard embrace, and then it was over, because they knew.
I love the way Mike forces Honor to lighten up. I love the way Honor convinces Mike that she does deserve flag rank in her own right and that she is in nobody's shadow. I love how easy, how free they are with each other. I love the way they play off each other and I love the way that they know, without ever having to say a thing, that it doesn't matter how long or how far they are apart - they will always find their way back to each other in the end, because that's what they do.
I just love them.
Honor and Mike moments.
SVW (the infamous makeup conversation)
"Well . . ." Henke pursed her lips thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Our coloring is just a bit different, you know."
"Does that matter?"
"Oh, Lord!" Henke moaned, rolling her eyes heavenward at the simple innocence—and abysmal ignorance—that question betrayed.
FoD (this incident sounds interesting)
Then there'd been her mock dogfight with Mike in their second form that, she admitted, really had gotten just a bit out of hand.
For a time she'd been afraid she'd have to wear it the same way Mike wore hers, and the ancient style called an "Afro" for reasons lost in the mists of etiology would have been just a bit too overpowering on someone Honor's size.
Mike has an
Afro!? I just never picture her that way at all...perhaps she's changed her hairstyle since then. Switching over, can you imagine Honor with an Afro?
"Honor, I—" Henke began, but her voice died. How could she ask her best friend the question she had to ask? Yet if she didn't, how could she live with the consequences if—
That is not a situation I hope I'm ever in on either side. Yikes.
AoV (the Cerberus reunion)
"I suppose it made sense, in an embarrassing sort of way, to name a ship after a naval officer who was safely dead, but I'm not dead, darn it!"
"Thank God," Henke said quietly, and all the laughter had gone out of her face. Honor turned quickly to face her as she felt the sudden darkness of her emotions.
[Honor]was remembering the images of an iron-faced Michelle Henke, following the anachronistic caisson down King Roger I Boulevard at a slow march through the measured tap-tap-tap of a single drum with the naked blade of the Harrington Sword upright in her gloved hands and unshed tears shining in her eyes.
"Well I just wanted to say this, Honor," Henke said quietly. "And I'll only say it once. But don't you ever do that to me again! Do you read me on that, Lady Harrington? I never want to go to your funeral again!"
Finally, from AAC, the Solon reunion.
"Mike," Honor said, very quietly, taking her friend's offered hand in a firm clasp. "It's good to see you again."
"And you, Your Grace," Henke said, her always husky contralto just a tad more husky than usual.
"Well," Honor released her hand at last, stepping back a bit from their mutual joy at the reunion.
SNIP
Honor led the way to the lift shaft, with an improbably wide awake-looking Andrew LaFollet coming along behind. She pressed the button, then smiled faintly and waved Henke through the opening door before her. She and LaFollet followed, the door slid shut behind her, and she reached out and gripped Henke's upper arms.
"My God," she said softly, "it is good to see you, Mike!"
Honor Alexander-Harrington had never been one for easy embraces, but she suddenly swept Mike Henke into a bear hug.
"Easy! Easy!" Henke gasped, returning the embrace. "The leg's bad enough, woman! Don't add crushed ribs to the list!"
"Sorry."
For a moment, Honor's soprano was almost as husky as Henke's contralto, , but then she stood back and cleared her throat while Nimitz buzzed a happy, welcoming purr from her shoulder.
"Sorry," she repeated in a more normal voice. "It's just that I thought you were dead. And then, when we found out you weren't, I still expected months, or years, to pass before I saw you again."
"Then I guess we're even over that little Cerberus trip you took," Henke said with a crooked smile.
"I guess we are," Honor agreed with a sudden chuckle.
Lastly...
"I believe someone else is waiting to welcome you back," she said, and the hatch slid open to show a beaming James MacGuiness.
