[she smiles, and lets another moment pass between them.]

...The upcoming deaths. How bad should they be, if we have a choice?

[because if they need fear, if they need misery, then she'll have to solve her own problems, and inflict it on herself.]

[thanks for the bare minimum, buddy. still, she looks contemplative, mulling that over.]

Does it count for your fuel if I make myself suffer?

[she can do it. she knows what scares her. what hurts. turning the knife on yourself is easier than people think.]

[a single nod, and then Helena smiles, resigned and at a perfect peace at the same time. glad to have your blessing on it, Captain. whatever comes to pass, she'll invent a way to hurt. they won't know, until it comes to pass.]

They're already miserable that we're dying anyway.

[they're ungrateful, bubbles up in her mind, from some place where she's long since accepted her fate, but it's a passing bitterness. let go like smoke, to disappear.]

Not all of them know how to manage being hurt in order to survive.

[it's learned. eventually.]

Because no one likes being hurt, or another reason?

[this is more from curiosity as to his thoughts than anything else - hearing him call the fiercely opposed understandable is surprising.]

I'll have to take your word for it. I'm not even remotely close enough to her to make any judgements.

[the voice of the future says that in a week or so, she'll have very definite opinions on one Clarke Griffin and her taste in accessories.]

But from what I've observed, there doesn't seem to be a single one of us that didn't come from some hardship. The Erda has a particular type.

[sssssip from her tea.]

Full of arms like an octopus?

[she's joking.]

[there's a pause, and then she has to set her cup down, because she's started giggling, laughing, genuine amusement in spite of the ominous shadow of the excursion hanging overhead.

breathe, breathe.]

Destiny is an octopus-

[trying really hard to not think this is funnier than it is. but her mental perception now involves sea life delicately slapping everyone on board with its arms, instead of the more formal paths it could have taken like the gods with a thousand arms.]

It's...it's just silly...

[finally, she catches her breath, straightens up from where she'd been slightly bent to laugh.]

It doesn't really make sense. It's just a little absurd. And then there's the shadow of impending misery, and still, it's nice to laugh.

[joy, even in the darkest places.]

For you as well.

[and the smile on her face says she's come up with a conclusion, but captain or not, she wants to make him ask.]

Is suffering truly suffering without happiness to compare it to? How do you define pain, without knowing what the absence of pain is? If everything that surrounds you is misery, fear, horror, isolation - it starts becoming normal. It's just...what's that turn of phrase used, "being lost in the fog."

[and she speaks from experience, a knowledge they both have about her. a sheer routine of death and fear and anguish, pains she can call to by name. she could speak of the practicalities of it being better for the fuel, but that's not what she means. to be able to have something to laugh at, even when this lies before them...]

There will be pain. But there will be joy. Everyone needs both, to lead a full life. You included, Captain.

[he needs the sweet with the bitter, fresh air instead of pacing the same room. it's good for anyone, to have that interjection in their existence.]

...Even if there are darker, colder times ahead, the sun still shines, to warm us during and after. It always does.