“We’re not acting like normal people,” Leta growled. “We’re completely dysfunctional around one another.”

“Look, if your lil’ shark buddy’s jealous, just tell him not to be. There’s nothin’ here anymore.” He waved his hand between the two of them.

Leta growled under her breath, “Isn’t there?” with her face full of challenge, which rooted Fiearius in place.

“I heard the recording of your interview,” she went on fiercely.

Fiearius’ mouth fell open. At last, he grunted, “So this is about the interview.”

“You think you’re some kind of martyr, don’t you?” she snapped.

“Excuse me?” He grasped for words. “I’m not–I never said that I–gods, what the fuck? I’m not a martyr.”

“But you’re going to be,” she said in a sing-song voice, angrily mocking him. “Because it’s all you’ve got, remember? Everything leads to it.”

Fiearius could hardly even work up the stamina to respond to her. “I don’t think you understand,” he tried anyway. “I never meant it’s some work of destiny or whatever, but I’m doing what has to be done, regardless of–”

“If you’re planning to die in this war, I want no part of it.”

Fiearius was dumbstruck into silence. Just that morning, the two of them had been laughing about something Gates had said in the war council meeting over breakfast. Getting along great. Better than they ever had before, really. He’d been really starting to enjoy Leta’s friendship these days. And now all of a sudden, she wanted nothing to do with him?

Well. Fine.

“Alright,” he said, short and terse. “Whatever. You want space?” He did laugh this time, harsh and humorless, then threw his hands toward the door. “Take some space. Take all the space you need. I don’t care.”

“Great.”

“In fact, the further the better.”

Leta’s eyes narrowed on him, but she didn’t respond. She just sucked in a breath and began to push past him headed straight for the door, but she didn’t make it far. Suddenly, a massive boom echoed through the room and the entire ground beneath their feet shook so violently that Leta stumbled backwards, losing her footing and falling towards Fiearius who caught her in his arms.

For a long moment, she leaned back on him in silence as they both looked up at the ceiling, expecting a follow-up. When none came, Leta collected herself.

“Don’t touch me,” she said quietly, pushing out of his hands.

Fiearius rolled his eyes. “Oh, sorry. Next time I’ll just let you fall on your ass.”

No sooner had she righted herself, though, another boom sounded and the station shook again. This time, they were ready for it, though Leta still braced her hand on Fiearius’ arm. “Are we under attack?” she breathed quietly.

Another short succession of booms followed.

“Let’s go find out,” Fiearius muttered, already expecting the worst, as he led the two of them out into the hall.

———-

The war room was crowded, soldiers and leaders all talking loudly at once, a sea of confusion. Though there had been no more thunderous trembles on the run over here, screens were still flashing and warning lights circling as Fiearius pressed into the room. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and when he glanced sideways at Leta, he could see in her face that she understood as well as he did.

They pressed through the crowd toward the center table, and just when Fiearius was about to yell to get some answers, Admiral Gates beat him to it.

“Quiet!” barked the older man at the head of the table. The room went suddenly, coldly silent. Gates’ paused, his jaw tightened, his face drawn in shadows. “The Society has located the CORS.”

A shocked gasp went around the room. Bursts of “What?!” and “How?!” could be heard briefly before focus returned to Gates. “We picked up their stealth scouts nearby. Our artillery core engaged. The shudders you felt were the scouts’ limited retaliation before they were neutralized.”

“So they’re gone? We’re safe?” Fiearius heard someone breathe beside him.

“Unfortunately, we have confirmed that they were able to broadcast our location to the Ellegian stronghold before we managed to eliminate them.”

Panic started to stir around them. The CORS had managed to stay hidden throughout the entire war, despite the Society’s efforts to find it. If they’d finally succeeded, if they’d managed?

This whole station was now looking straight in the eyes of its endgame.

“We should anticipate Ellegy launching an attack within hours,” Gates went on. “They will come swiftly and they will come hard. We need to be ready to defend the station with everything we’ve got. Recall every ship in range. Recall those outside range too. We’ll need all the firepower we can get.”

“How long do we have?” someone in the room shouted out.

“It’ll take them at least half a day to reach us,” Arsen answered, standing firm beside Gates.

“We should evacuate all non-combat, non-essential personnel,” Gates suggested.

“In as few ships as possible,” Arsen added. “We need to maintain a supply of lifeboats here in case things turn south.”

“All captains should return to their troops immediately and prepare them for battle. Everyone else, start the evacuation.” Fiearius felt Gates’ eyes upon him. “Admiral, you and I can discuss fleet formations.”

Fiearius heaved a deep breath and nodded, stepping forward as the crowd started to shift, but Leta’s voice stopped him. “Wait,” she said. He looked down to find her staring straight ahead, her eyes wide. “Wait,” she said again, louder this time. “Wait!”

The crowd stopped moving and all eyes turned towards her. Fiearius saw her swallow a lump in her throat before she sputtered out, “We should abandon the station.”

Predictably, it was Arsen who first spoke up. “What?!” He scoffed indignantly. “To your posts!”

But Leta wasn’t finished. “No, listen!” she snapped. “You’re certain they’ll attack from Ellegy? And soon?”

Gates was watching her curiously as Arsen, impatient as ever, growled, “Certain as we could be. They’ll know we detected their scouts. If they’re to have a chance, they have to mount a large attack quickly before we can recall the entire fleet and Ellegy’s the closest planet to do so from. Which is exactly why we don’t have time to waste.”

Fiearius cast the man a glare, unsurprised to find Gates was always eying him with distaste. Leta didn’t seem to mind either way. “We’ve been looking for a way into Ellegy for months. Years, even. But it’s too heavily defended. The Ellegian fleet never leaves port.”

Slowly, the realization of what she was getting at dawned on Fiearius. “Except for now,” he muttered.

She pointed at him and smiled. “Exactly. If they send the Ellegian fleet to destroy the CORS, it’ll leave Ellegy, for the first time, less defended. We’ve been waiting for this chance. We could launch our attack while they launch theirs. They’d never expect it.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Arsen spat. “Because leaving the CORS undefended is insane. This station is far too valuable to sacrifice.”

“More valuable than our only opportunity to assault the Society’s secondary holding?” Leta argued. She turned to the people around her. “I know, losing the CORS would be devastating, but even if we stayed, there’s a high chance we could lose it.”

“And if we attack Ellegy, we could lose both the CORS and our entire fleet,” was Arsen’s quick response.

Leta grit her teeth and Fiearius saw her fists clench at her side. “This could be our only shot at Ellegy. We’re ready. We’ve prepared for this. We just need to take it.”

Fiearius was still watching her in interest when Gates caught his eye, his brow raised in curiosity. It was a look Fiearius knew well. He shrugged in response. “It’s your station.”

Gates released a small puff of breath from his nose. At his side, Arsen was incredulous. “Sir, you can’t seriously be considering this.”

Fiearius could tell Leta was ready to launch into another stream of justifications any minute. She was, as always, willing to fight this to the death if need be. But she didn’t have to. Gates nodded just once.

“Captains, change of plans. Restock as much artillery as you can carry and prepare to depart the CORS immediately. We’re headed to Ellegy.”

Liam was nodding. “Exymeron’s failing economy post Division War.”

“And they did a great job. But their entire function is reactionary. When things are good? Thriving? They’re worthless. So they need to make problems to solve in order to keep their power. Make people believe that without the Society, things would descend into chaos. And who’s better at that than a whole bunch of–”

“Scared teenagers,” Liam finished for him, his tone heavily thoughtful. “Interesting.”

Fiearius sat back in the chair and shrugged. “Just my theory anyway.”

“Pretty good one, I think,” Liam admitted. “So. What’s it like now that you’re facing all this from the other side?”

Fiearius shuffled in his seat and propped his head in his hand. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of defectors–” Fiearius coughed. “–eh, alive anyway. At least none that would speak out against them publicly. So your views on the Society are rather unique. I was just wondering what it feels like to be fighting something that was, at one point, in your own words, a refuge.”

Fiearius went quiet again as he considered the question. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “It doesn’t really feel like an ‘us vs. them’ sort of thing. I’m totally committed to dismantling the Society as a whole, but the people in it? It’s–it’s difficult sometimes. Fighting them. Because I know them. I know what it’s like to be them. Hell, if a couple things had gone a little differently, I could have still been one of them.”

“What things are those?” Liam wanted to know.

But Fiearius’ silence this time was different than before. More intense, deeper. It was no surprise when his answer was, “I’d rather not dwell on that if it’s alright by you.”

“Ah, right, sure no problem. But I have to wonder, defining yourself as just narrowly on the other side of this war, does that mean you consider yourself still connected to the Society?”

Fiearius lifted a brow. “No, not at all.” When Liam just watched him patiently, he went on, “But I have a connection to the Exymerian people. And the Ellegians, the Ascendians, the Vescentians and anyone else who’s lived under Society rule.”

“And you want to–free these people? The way you were freed?”

Fiearius barked a laugh. “Hopefully not the way I was freed, no. But do I want them to live in a place where their choices do matter, where they don’t have to be afraid of their own neighbors and kids aren’t being offered assassination training as their only way out of a bad situation? Fuck yeah, I do.”

“So to you, this whole war is kind of personal.”

“It’s entirely personal,” Fiearius answered without hesitation. “If by the end of this, I’ve put the Span any closer to not containing any more shit like me, then it will have all been worth it.”

Liam sounded a touch confused when he muttered, “An…interesting way to phrase a noble prospect. Would the translation to ‘better place for my kids to grow up in’ be correct?”

Fiearius snorted. “No kids in my short lil future, but sure, whichever cliche floats your boat.”

“Short future?” Liam asked. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Fiearius repeated incredulously. “I dunno how long you’ve been reporting on this particular war, mate, but if you think I’m gonna come out the other end of it, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Seems a little morbid…”

“It’s not morbid, it’s realistic.” Fiearius couldn’t have sounded more casual about the idea of his own death. “Carthis will handle a lot of crazy shit, don’t get me wrong, but they have self-preservation in mind at all times, as they should. These people, the soldiers? Fighting for someone else’s freedom? It’s not in ‘em. They have families and lives to get back to and more power to ‘em for it.”

“But me?” he went on. “This is what I’ve got. Everything in my life leads to this. So while they’re busy calculating losses, I’ll take the risks. They’re how we’ve gotten to where we are in this war at all. And it’s a damn miracle the odds have thus far tilted in my favor. But I’m not fool enough to think that’ll last forever.”

Liam’s pen tapped gently on the edge of the table. “And you’re alright with that? The dangerous missions, the high risks, inevitability of failure?”

He shrugged.  “We all die eventually.”

———————————

The recording ended abruptly with a scratch of static and Leta’s finger on the dial. She could not listen any longer. Silence unfolded in the room, and kept unfolding for seconds longer, and she felt Liam watching her.

“There’s…a bit more actually,” he ventured carefully. “I asked him about the Baltimore and we talked about life on the Dionysian and–” Leta was shaking her head silently. “Hey.” His hand touched her knee. “You okay over there?”

No, not at all, she thought. Something about the way Fiearius spoke about the war, Carthis, his inevitable death…It hit her hard in the gut. Talking of having nothing else and his whole life leading here, gods, he was starting to sound like Dez. Fear leaked into her heart, and she felt suddenly ice cold.

Leta nodded. “I’m fine,” she heard herself say, but she was already on her way toward the door. “I just — there’s something I need to do. I’ll be right back.”

————————

He would never admit it aloud, but Fiearius found that he was, privately, starting to enjoy the comfort of his quarters on the CORS. The extravagance of the lounge, dining room, and master bathroom were obnoxious, but he had to admit the space was a nice reprieve. At least it was quiet. In this moment, Fiearius sat on the couch, balancing a plate of eggs and potatoes on his knee. He ate with one hand while his other hand held a tablet, which blared the headline: Society Forces Flee Ascendian Ground.

A pounding on the door broke him out of his thoughts. Frowning, he slid the plate to the coffee table and hit the switch to slide open the door, surprised to see Leta standing on the other side.

“Leta. To what do I owe this — ”

“We need to talk.”

A storm clouded her face, and her eyes were shifting over him uneasily.

“Okay,” he said blankly, stepping sideways and closing the door behind him. Leta slid past him and immediately began to pace over the shining wood floor, wringing her hands together while pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“What is it?” He was baffled. “You alright?”

“No. Not really.”

He waited, but when she did not elaborate, he asked, “You need a drink or somethin’?” He started to cross toward the fully stocked liquor bar. For some reason, this made her face darken.

“Definitely not.” She shot a nasty look toward the decanter of bourbon in his hand.

“Well, that’s unlike you,” he commented, almost grinning. “What is it we need to talk about then?”

“You.” She suddenly halted. “Me. Us. Look, I think I need some distance.”

Fiearius stared at her. Then he lowered the decanter back onto the bar. “Distance.”

“Yes. Distance. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other lately and I think it’s been too much for both of us.”

“Hang on.” He held up a hand. He felt like laughing. “I’m confused. What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing. I’ve just — decided it’s time we move on with our personal lives, and right now I’m letting you know I need space.”

“You need some space,” he repeated slowly. “So you came here. To my quarters. To tell me you need some space.”

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She veered back toward the door and while some part of him thought it’d be easier to just let her walk out, he couldn’t help himself.

“No, hang on, I won’t excuse you.” He held up his palms, stepping into her path. “What the fuck is going on? Is this about the interview? I was perfectly nice to the guy.”

“You were fine,” Leta agreed, a hiss of a breath.

“I was helpful even.”

“You were.”

“You told me to do it. So why are you pissed at me? I don’t get it. I did everything you asked and now you’re punishing me for it?”

“I’m not punishing you, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m with Liam, you have Quin, and all this time together on the station isn’t good for anyone.”

“Not good for anyone? Yeah, sure, people getting along and acting like normal people is terrible,” he groaned.

Just then, a panel on the wall started to flash. The front door alert, Fiearius realized at once. He couldn’t recall having any afternoon meetings planned nor visits scheduled, though it wasn’t all that unlikely to have Gates drop by unannounced to pester him about the ongoing Ellegy strategy. But he had no desire at the moment to be pestered.

“Who is it?” he asked the wall anyway and the panel stopped flashing to show him the video stream from the camera by the door. When he glanced over at it, he expected to see Gates’ grey hair and gnarled face, but he was greeted instead by someone else.

“Well speak o’ the devil,” Quin cooed as the Leta on the screen stared straight up into the camera lens and mouthed ‘let me in!’

He couldn’t fathom what she could possibly need. He’d only just seen her hours ago. But his brain ran over a thousand possibilities. There was an update from the Ellegian rebels she needed to give him. She overheard something the Carthians were planning behind their backs. She’d gotten into a fight with her shark boyfriend and needed comfort.

No, that was stupid.

Still.

“I better go see what she wants,” he groaned, hoping Quin couldn’t detect the genuine curiosity and (gods, he really was pathetic) misplaced hope behind his mask of irritation.

As he climbed out of bed and started to pull on the clothes he’d left scattered across the floor, Quin rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin in her hands to watch him. “Want me to put on an apron and pretend to be your housewife for her?”

“Shut it,” Fiearius grumbled, slipping his shirt over his head.

“Oh, honey, you’re such a kidder,” she cooed in over-the-top sweetness. “Shall I get started on your dinner?”

Fiearius rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “Just stay here.” He shut it behind him, blocking out her laughter as he crossed through his expansive quarters to the entryway. Leta didn’t even wait for the doorway to even open entirely before she slipped through.

“Hey, you’re not busy, are you?” she asked, brushing straight by him to the bowl of pure Carthian chocolates on a pedestal that the man who cleaned his quarters refilled every morning. “I can come back later if you are.”

Fiearius watched with interest as she unwrapped the thing and popped it into her mouth without hesitation. “Now’s as good a time as any. What’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask,” she said in a way that made him sure of one thing.

“I’m not gonna like it, am I?” he sighed, leaving the entryway and wandering over to fall onto one of the couches in the living room.

“Well, you may not be thrilled, no,” she admitted, following him and sitting down in the opposite chair. “It’s about Liam.”

Fiearius snorted. “I can’t teach him to satisfy a woman like I can, Leta. It’s a gift.”

Leta flashed him a dark look but ignored the remark. “He’s been getting a lot of slack from his editor for not producing anything recently. If he doesn’t put out something good soon, he’s going to have to leave the CORS. And, as you might expect, I would rather he didn’t.”

A frown creased Fiearius’ brow and a sense of worry hit him. Leta’s newest friend certainly had a lot of material for a ‘good’ story. He knew about the Councillor Initiative, he likely knew far more about the upcoming attack on Ellegy than he should, gods only knew what else he had been privy to hanging around with Leta. Any one of those stories, if they got out, could be disastrous. He was shaking his head before he even conjured words to answer.

“No no no. He cannot publish–Leta, you know how bad it would be if people knew what we were doing. Not to mention if the Society found out, there’s no way that wouldn’t come back to bite us in the ass, you can’t let him–“

But she too was shaking her head and holding up a hand to quiet him. “Gods, Fiear, that’s not what I meant. Of course he can’t publish military secrets, I wouldn’t let him, nor would he ask. It’s not that at all.”

Now he was just confused. “Then what’s he want?”

“We were thinking something a little more…personal.”

“Personal…” Fiearius repeated slowly.

“You know, an exclusive interview, one-on-one with the greatest admiral of the war, for the first time answering everything the Span’s wondered about.” She sold the thing just like the advertisement for it would, dramatic to a fault.

“Personal,” Fiearius said again, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah, your story, how you got here, what you’re fighting for, that kind of thing. Everything the people know of you has just been snippy press conferences and a few backwater rag exposés. It’d be good for you to get your actual perspective out there. It’ll sway some people who are still on the fence about your involvement. Win over some questioning members of the Society itself, maybe. They’re far more likely to relate to you than anyone from Carthis.”

Fiearius’ glare deepened. “Personal.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to. Just the basics. You can talk it over beforehand so he knows what you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m not comfortable with any of it,” Fiearius snapped, rising to his feet and pacing around the couch.

Leta sat up straighter and braced her hands on her knees. “Fiear, I know you’ve had bad experiences with press in the past, but you can’t let that color your opinion entirely. Those other reporters, they were just sensationalists trying to get a scoop and lying to you and publishing the bullshit they did, that was awful, but they’re not all like that. Liam’s not like that.”

Fiearius shook his head, gripping the back of the couch. “That’s not even it, though, it wasn’t bullshit!”

Leta tilted her head at him and frowned. “What do you mean–you really are taking drugs again?”

“Wh–no, okay, the ‘psycho druggie’ one was bullshit, fine, some of them are,” Fiearius admitted. “But most of it? I did murder those people, I did steal that medicine, I’ve done most of the terrible things they accused me of. My ‘story’? Is full of exactly the kind of crap people already hate me for.”

“Which is exactly why it’s important that you take control of your own narrative.” She too stood up now and walked around the couch to join him. “If you just keep letting your name get smeared all over the place, the people won’t know what’s true and what’s a lie. But if you tell the story yourself, you can explain it all, you can rise above it and you can show how much you’ve changed.”

Fiearius let her words hover in the air for a moment before he growled, “And if I haven’t?”

“You have,” she countered at once. “I’m serious, Fiear, this’ll be good for you. Good for the cause.”

“And good for your lil’ boyfriend.”

Her brow creased and she folded her arms over her chest. “Yes. And you owe him, you said so yourself. You never would have caught that Councillor without him. You owe him.”

Fiearius groaned and leaned against the back of the couch. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been so nice to him.”

“I wouldn’t say so nice,” Leta argued, “but regardless, give him his interview and you’ll be even.”

He eyed her curiously. “So if I do it, I can stop being nice to him?”

“What–no.”

He threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “Then what’s even the point?!”

Sighing, Leta dropped her hands on his shoulders. “Can I tell him you’ll do it?”

Fiearius met her stare squarely. There was nothing about this he liked, but even his mastery of denial couldn’t manage to formulate an excuse good enough to counter her. Nor would it matter. He knew Leta well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t be stopping until he agreed, no matter what he said. So he groaned and muttered, “Fine.”

“Great.” She clapped him on the arm and turned towards the door. “I’ll schedule something through Javier.” She waved cheerfully as she slipped out into the hallway, calling, “Thanks, Fiear, you won’t regret this!” as she left.

Fiearius continued to stare at the closed door after she was gone, internally wondering how tightly wound around her finger he was and whether or not she’d known that when she walked in.

“I have a feeling I will,” he muttered to the empty room, just as a glass was shoved into his hand.

He looked over in surprise to find Quin smirking at him, then looked down at the glass, full of coppery liquid that he couldn’t readily identify. Moments later, he realized he didn’t care and shot the whole thing back without a second thought.

Slowly Leta put down her mug, eyeing Liam warningly. “This better not be why you invited me to lunch.”

“It’s not,” said Liam quickly. Sincerity filled his eyes. “Leta, this has no bearing whatsoever on our relationship. I’m simply asking for a favor. I’d ask him myself, I really would. But my guess is — “

“Don’t waste your time with that,” Leta advised. She exhaled a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

————————–

Fiearius sighed as he rolled over onto his back, his messy hair splaying out against the pillow and the sheet that had become tangled around his leg falling off the side of the bed.  For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the high metal ceiling of his CORS admiral’s lounge and enjoying the feeling of the cool, expensive sheets against his sweat-sheened skin. Then he heard the click of a lighter next to him.

He glanced over as Quin put the cigarette to her lips and he frowned. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he pointed out apathetically. With the same lack of gusto, she shrugged her bare shoulders.

“I spent my whole life on Archeti. If my lungs don’t have a bit o’ tar in ‘em, they feel empty,” she countered, blowing out a trail of smoke that lingered just above the bed.

Fiearius twisted his face in distaste and waved his hand through it. “I meant in here. Gonna set off some alarm and get a flood of Carthians in here thinking their precious station is on fire.”

Quin made a small thoughtful ‘hmph’ and took another hit of the cigarette. The two of them fell into momentary silence before finally she glanced over at him and grinned. “Would be kinda funny though.”

Fiearius chuckled his agreement and stretched out his arms above his head. One fell carelessly back onto the bed, the other he slipped around Quin’s shoulders and used to pull her side against his. This was starting to feel familiar, this part. The part just previous was already commonplace and had been for ages now, but this part, the lying around after, just content to have each other’s company, was newer. Quin and Fiearius were often on opposite sides of the Span, but when they weren’t, he had come to genuinely enjoy spending his quieter hours beside her. He found their intimate moments comforting and, by the way she didn’t immediately gather her things to leave as she might have in the past, he assumed she agreed.

“Do you remember when we met?” he asked suddenly and he felt her shift away to squint at him curiously.

“Pardon?”

“You know,” Fiearius went on. “How you refused to meet with me so I stole some shit from your warehouse and you had Aeneas tie me to a chair and beat me for three hours?”

She scrunched up her face. “I do not remember that.”

“To be fair, you were only around for the beginning. And the end when I said he could keep going all he wanted, I still wouldn’t give your stuff back. And you said you liked my dedication and gave me a gig?” Now he looked over at her and could see no recollection sparking where it should have. “Seriously? You don’t remember that?”

“It’s a common enough story, kinda all blends together,” Quin admitted. “I do remember the first time I took you back to my bed though. After the Lorrinian job.”

Fiearius frowned. “That was the second time. The first time was immediately following the incident with Puvnacus.”

“Ah, bloody mess, that.”

“I was terrified,” Fiearius confessed through a contented sigh. “Incredibly turned on. But terrified.”

“Just the way I like ‘em.” Quin grinned maliciously and elbowed him in the ribs. “What brought this on, huh? Not like you to get all sentimental.”

“I dunno, just thinkin’ out loud.” Fiearius curled his hand around her arm. “We’ve known each other a long time. What is it, 8? 9 years? Just…a long time, is all.”

She was watching him curiously, almost cautiously, he couldn’t help but notice. He felt curious and cautious about it himself, not really sure where he was going with this. The words just kept coming out, surprising him as much as they might have her. “And most of that, we’ve been–” he gestured to the two of them, lying naked side by side in bed. “Just a long time to be together, I guess.”

Now, her curiosity turned into something a lot like suspicion. “Sure, but–we ain’t ‘together’, sweetheart.”

“Yeah I know,” he agreed, ignoring the beginnings of embarrassment that were trying to take over. “But — well –” He apparently couldn’t stop himself though. “Kind of?”

Quin sat up in bed at once and when she looked down at him, he could not have felt smaller. “No, honey. Not kind of.” She put his hand on his shoulder which somehow made it worse. “This thing you and me have? You’re a good friend. And a great lover. And a partner I’d lay my life on the line for any day o’ the week. But let’s not get mixed up with any extra feelin’s a’right?”

There was a primal instinct in Fiearius that he had had since he was very very young. He’d never been sure if it stemmed from the early days of being a child on the playground or if it had only first needed to manifest itself there, but regardless, it had never left. He didn’t like feeling pathetic. He didn’t like people making him feel pathetic. So when he felt pathetic? In return, he got angry.

He pushed himself up to meet her face on, hoping their actual size difference would help. It didn’t. “Little late for that,” he snapped.

She raised her brows at him, still calm as ever. “Late?”

“Yeah, late,” he said again, more forcefully. “Telling me not to ‘have feelings’ isn’t gonna stop me from having them.”

“Well,” she tilted her head and smiled. “Good thing you don’t then.”

Fiearius blanched. Whatever argument he’d been expecting her to use, it wasn’t that. “What? What do you mean — I do, though!”

“You sure as hell don’t,” Quin said with so much authority, he almost believed it himself.

“I do,” he snapped back.

“You don’t.”

“I do!”

“You really don’t.”

Fiearius growled in frustration and before he even considered what he was saying, the words tumbled out, “I do, I’m in love with you!”

The room got very quiet. The two of them stared at one another in complete utter silence, like a standoff in which neither party could yet figure out what action to take or whether they even wanted to act at all. And then finally, to his horror, Quin laughed.

Not just a regular laugh, either. A long, raucous laugh that made her double over and tears well up in her eyes. A laugh that followed something so hilariously ridiculous that she had trouble breathing. A laugh that made Fiearius wonder, if he had meant what he’d said, whether or not it would stay true when she finally got over it. He glared at her for a good solid minute until she was able to suck in a breath and speak.

“Oh honey,” she choked out. “You are many, many things.” She grasped one of his shoulders and cupped his cheek as she smiled sadly at him. “But one thing you are not is in love with me.”

“Not anymore,” Fiearius deadpanned, the anger he’d felt before subsiding into irritation. Still, he wasn’t done with this argument. “But come on, you have to admit. There’s something more to us. Isn’t there?”

Quin let her hands fall into her lap as she shook her head. “No. There ain’t.” She heaved in a deep breath, still recovering from her laughing fit before she told him, at least trying to be serious, “‘Us’? ‘Us’ is two consenting adults with a huge shared burden usin’ each other in their downtime. And that’s it.”

“Using each other?” he repeated incredulously. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“Simple. I’m usin’ you for that thing you do so well.” She winked and poked him in the chest with her index finger. “And you. You’re usin’ me to keep up a charade of emotional stability.” She lifted her brows, daring him to challenge the statement.

He opened his mouth to do so, but “I–” was all that came out. His eyes fell to his feet and he tried to wrap his head around this. Before he made it anywhere, she continued.

“Sweetie, I’m no halfwit, I know why you called me up for this lil afternoon exercise. And hey, I ain’t judgin’ ya. If you’re feelin’ low and lonely and need some company to forget it all, I am more than happy to oblige, no questions asked, but I care about ya, as dumb of me as that is. And I don’t want you gettin’ so caught up in your own lie that ya can’t even see it anymore.”

“It’s not a lie,” Fiearius objected, though his heart wasn’t in it even as he said it.

Quin frowned at him. “Darlin’ everyone with eyes can see you’re still hung up on that doctor o’ yours.”

“I am not,” he replied automatically. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. And just like everyone else who’d said it (Cyrus, Addy, Gates, himself…), Quin gave him that look. That ‘you are so full of shit’ look he was so familiar with. So he sighed. “It was years ago, she’s with someone else now, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh she is, is she?” Quin rolled her eyes and lay back down on the bed, crossing her hands underneath her head. “Well that explains how weird you been actin’.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Three minutes ago, you confessed to being in love with me,” she pointed out.

Fiearius grimaced. “Fine. A little weird.”

Quin was shaking her head. “So this guy. Awful?”

“He’s alright actually.” Fiearius shrugged. “Helped me out with something I wasn’t expecting. She seems happy with him so he’s fine in my book.” When he caught her skeptical glare, he snapped, “What? I can be a mature adult sometimes. If I want.”

As he lay back down next to her she snorted a laugh. “That’s big of you. Still jealous though.”

“I’m only human,” he grumbled.

“Well you’re goin’ about this all the wrong way, y’know.” He glanced over at her and she smiled. “I know it hurts when someone you love moves on, but this? I don’t know if it’s for you or for her or for her new beau, don’t matter, shouldn’t be jumpin’ through hoops tryin’ to prove you’ve moved on too.”

“I know.” Fiearius let out a groan and pulled his hands down his face. “But fake it ‘til ya make it has worked out for me pretty well up to now.”

“It did let you go from space trash to respected admiral,” Quin agreed. “Well, maybe not ‘respected’.” He shot her another glare which she ignored. “Glad we had this lil discussion. You’re fine as all else, Soliveré, but thinkin’ I’d ever be engagin’ in romance with you? Dumb and pathetic as hell.”

Fiearius snorted. “Yeah, you were right.” He slipped his arm around her again. “I so do not love you.”

“I know.”