“Hey stranger,” she’d greeted, hugging him, her face pressed against his shoulder. Finn muttered a hello, a little distracted by the familiar aroma of her floral shampoo and cleanly pressed military uniform. But evidently he was not the only one with a sense of smell, because when Elsa pulled back, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“God, you still smoke? I thought you gave that up.”

“Old habits die hard,” he replied, sending her a knowing look, to which she smirked, somewhat sadly.

“So — been awhile, eh?” he’d sighed, as they sat down and signaled for the bartender. He surveyed Elsa over the rim of his glass as he took a drink, noting all her familiar features: her short chopped blonde hair; her dainty upturned nose; her smirk. The biggest difference was her uniform — it was decorated with more patches and medals of distinction than the last time he’d seen her.

“Look at you,” he said, impressed. “You’re a captain now.”

“And so are you.” She put a hand on his wrist. “So. Tell me about the Beacon.”

It was too easy, Finn thought, to fall into familiar rhythms with this woman. Twenty minutes of small talk passed before Elsa abruptly finished her beer and straightened up, sending him an amused look of accusation.

“I know you’re going to ask me about the wedding,” she said, which was accurate. “So why don’t you just get it out of the way?”

Finn set down his pint of beer, readying himself. “Alright. Here’s my first question. You’re getting married in, what? Three weeks? Why the rush?”

“Because we have no reason to wait, Finn,” she said simply. “We only want a small wedding here on the station.”

“How romantic.”

Elsa’s smirk tinged with bitterness. “I was hoping you’d be mature about this.”

“I’m trying.”

“Maturity was never your strong suit,” Elsa agreed. “Listen, I’m sorry if I blindsided you with this news. I consider you one of my closest friends.”

“I know.”

“But to be be honest,” she said, frowning, “I didn’t think you’d really care.”

Finn went still with surprise, certain he’d heard incorrectly.

“We dated for three years, El,” he said blankly. “And I kind of thought we were still dating. Of course I care that you’re getting married.”

“When I asked you to come back to Carthis, you barely answered my calls for three months. You’ve got the Beacon. You’ve got all these jobs to do. You’ve got Corra.”

“I’ve — Corra? What does that mean?”

“You told me you’re sleeping together,” she said, sounding amused. “Isn’t that still going on?”

“Well, yeah. But … it’s not serious.”

Elsa pursed her lips, like she was fighting back a smirk with difficulty. “You do realize,” she began knowingly, and Finn knew he was really in for it, “that that’s exactly what you used to say about us? ‘We’re just hooking up. It’s not serious.’ And then what happened? We were together for all of school.”

She paused pointedly. Unease was spreading through Finn, but he still grunted, “Just say it, Elsa. Whatever you’ve been sitting on for the past year, let me have it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he sighed. “I’m a masochist.”

“Alright. Remember the other night when you left that drunk message for me?”

“Vaguely … “

“It was hard to tell because you were slurring so badly, but basically, you asked me why it never worked out between us. And there a lot of reasons, but I can give you one of them, and it’s you don’t realize when something good is right in front of you.”

“Ouch.”

“You asked for it. Finn, you’ve been terrified of commitment this whole time. If something good is there, you don’t need to run from it.”

In equal measures, Finn was desperate for this conversation to end, and yet he was deeply curious for more.

“So you’re telling me I have feelings for Corra,” he deadpanned, staring at her. “That comes as news to me.” Did she know something he didn’t? He felt cornered, and oddly like Elsa was onto something.

“I didn’t say that,” she pointed out with a suspicious smirk. “But if that’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Maybe you should consider it.”

Finn winced. And yet when he lifted his glass to finish off the dregs of his beer, he found himself wishing this evening had gone differently — he really would have much rather spent it with Corra. A fleeting pang of regret went through him, and he thought Elsa was probably right when she sighed, “You’ve always been slow on the uptake.”

– – –

Tension was filling the war council room like rising smoke.  A dozen Carthian officers crowded the large round table, their faces lit in eerie blue light from the three dimensional projection of Vescent’s capital that rotated between them. It was past midnight, and they’d been at this meeting for nearly two hours, planning out each and every minute detail of Vescent’s liberation.

Standing out as the only person present without a military uniform, Leta stood beside Gates with her arms crossed, her eyes reflecting the map of her home city.

“Well?” grunted Gates, using his cane to quickly move around the table. He seemed to possess an odd amount of energy for someone his age. “We’ve heard a lot, but we haven’t heard from our Chief Strategist yet. What intel have you got for us, Arsen?”

All eyes in the room swung toward Arsen, the latest officer Leta had met. The man was of medium height, sturdy built, and clearly younger than Gates, or at least considerably less scarred. His jet black hair was not without a light touch of gray. Despite the signs of age, he, like Gates, seemed rather eager for this conversation.

“Preliminary recon suggests we’ll face automatic missile resistance, here, here and here,” he said, touching three points on the map, making them flash bright red. “Any air assault is going to need to start by taking them out.”

“They’re likely to be reinforced so I recommend putting three destroyers in the first wave,” he went on. “We can run shields at full capacity and use remaining power to barrage the launchers, clearing the way for the rest of the fleet.”

“How will that impact civilians?” said Leta, throwing a look toward Gates in particular. He stood closest to the table, frowning. The glow from the screens illuminated the deep scars on his face even more dramatically.

“We intend to keep our air efforts limited to known Society facilities to limit civilians caught in the crossfire,” Arsen replied. “How possible that will be given the number of facilities and effectiveness of our weaponry against them is something we’re looking into.”

General murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Just when Gates said, “Alright, let’s table th — ” a sudden voice cut through the room, bold and irritated.

“That’s stupid. You’ll just be sacrificing your best ships for no reason.”

Leta felt a bolt of shock, but then it did not surprise her at all, to see the tall figure of Fiearius standing in the doorway. Jaw clenched, he strode deeper into the room, his eyes on Vescent’s map.

Puzzled murmurs broke out, but it was Arsen who laughed darkly, “Excuse me? This is a closed meeting, you can’t just–”

Gates held up his palm to silence Arsen. Then he nodded at Fiearius. If he was irritated by the interruption, he did not show it. In fact, something like puzzled bemusement passed through his gaze.

“Those turrets are built to detect ships of that size,” Fiearius went on, crossing into the room. “You send ‘em in there first, you’re just gonna have about ten minutes of ‘who’s guns are bigger? “You’re better off with smaller ship. A fighter, a transport even. Anything small won’t even attract their attention.”

Arsen snorted. “A smaller ship wouldn’t have weapons capable of breaking through the reinforcements.”

“No, but they can slip right through the landing defenses,” Fiearius remarked simply, mimicking a ship with his hand as it flew down into the holographic city. “And then walk right in here.” His fingers walked to a nearby building. “And shut down the power.” He glanced over at Arsen and smirked. His mouth then formed an ‘o’ of realization and he added, “Also, you missed a couple spots, here, here, here and here.” He pointed to various points on the map, turning them red as well.

Stunned silence filled the room for a moment. A twisted smirk touched Arsen’s face, but his eyes were cold.

“So,” Gates grunted. “You’re late to your own meeting. Decided to lend your help after all, Captain?”

Dryly, Fiearius said, “Gotta finish what ya start, or so they say.” Across the table, he met Leta’s gaze knowingly. She shook her head, biting back a tiny smirk that read I knew it.

“Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses,” said Gates briskly. “And your allies? Have you spoken to Ms. Utada?”

Fiearius waved him off impatiently. “I’ll go to Archeti and convince her, don’t worry about that. For right now though, catch me up.” He leaned forward on the table and looked around the room. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ve played chess, think about it. Carthis has a powerful military, sure, but it’s restricted. It’s got a bureaucracy, it’s got multiple points of authority, it can’t just act on a whim. You, though, you’re free to move about wherever you like, whenever you like. You have no need to follow rules. You’re the most powerful piece in play, you can act as they can’t. That’s why they need you.”

“They can still sacrifice their queen, Cy,” Fiearius pointed out bluntly before letting out a long groan. “I don’t know. Leta obviously thinks I should do it. You seem to think I should do it. Even I know that I should do it.” He glanced down at his wrist. “I’ve been given an opportunity, maybe it’s a sign, maybe I should take it.”

“Well you wanna know what I think?”

“No.”

Ignoring him, Cyrus went on, “I think you’re asking yourself the wrong question. Forget what you should do. What do you want to do?”

“I want–” Fiearius began, but what finished the sentence didn’t come to mind. “I don’t know what I want.” But then the words just started barreling out. “I want to be free of the Society I guess. I want to be able to live without being constantly hunted. I want what happened to Aela and Denarian to never happen again…” He looked up to see Cyrus staring at him pointedly. It made his insides churn a little. So he quickly said, “But it’s not just me, Cy. If I pull the Dionysian into this, we all get pulled into this. You too. What do you want?”

Seconds passed. Then he said quietly, “I want to go home.”

Fiearius wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Cyrus speak so sincerely. After a moment, Fiearius admitted, “Yeah. Me too.”

They regarded each other uncertainly. Then, eager to change the subject, Fiearius remembered the message he’d received this morning from Finn. “Oh but, hey, on the note of things you want, I do have some good news for you.” Cyrus looked up at him, perplexed and Fiearius couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “There’s a ship docking near ours in about an hour. One I think you’ve heard of. It’s…what is it called? Is it the Lighthouse? No, Bonfire? Lamp–”

“The Beacon?” Cyrus finished for him, his eyes going wide. “Wait, the Beacon’s coming here? In an hour? Addy’s gonna be here in an hour?”

“Yeah, so I’m told, thought you’d–” Fiearius began, but suddenly Cyrus was already pushing himself to his feet. “Hey, what the hell’s the matter?”

“I look like a mess, Fiear!” Cyrus dismayed as he seized his tablet, nearly knocking his plate off the table. “She can’t see me like this!”

“What? You look fine — “

“No I don’t!” Cyrus insisted half-heartedly as he started to flee the mess hall. But he retreated a few steps and added, “Where’s your hair stuff?”

Fiearius let loose a raucous laugh before answering, “Under the sink,” and watching Cyrus scramble away down the hall.

———

It was going to be a short stop on the CORS, but Corra had been looking forward to it nonetheless. Ever since the Beacon had dropped Leta off here a week ago, she’d been missing the companionship of her best friend, despite how busy things were. They’d already made two more runs for Callahan and were en route back to Archeti to pick up another. It was only luck, masterful scheduling and a little careful rerouting by Alyx that had lead them here and Corra couldn’t have been more glad of it. She was in somewhat desperate need of a friendly distraction.

Corra had tried exceedingly hard to get over her mistake in Finn’s room a week ago. Her brain seemed determined to keep reminding her of how stupid it had been though. In the quiet moments of the day, she’d suddenly turn pink with embarrassment and feel an unbearable urge to bury her face in her hands. And traveling back and forth from Archeti on ship drops left a lot of those quiet moments.

It would have been fine, honestly, if things had just returned to normal. And oh, how she’d tried to return them to normal. Earlier in the week, she’d found her way to Finn’s door, just like she always did, but instead of the fun evening of physical entanglement she was used to, what she got was a whole pile of awkward. He’d just kept offering her drinks (“Whiskey? How about vodka? You must at least want water. It’s important to stay hydrated.”) despite how many time she said no and asking her mundane questions about her day. It was clearly an effort to be nice, but in the end it just made her wish him a goodnight and retreat back to her own quarters alone. So much for normal.

Last night, she’d tried again with substantially more success, but the awkwardness was still there and the fact remained that Finn changed when she walked into a room now and it was her fault and it was driving her nuts. She needed something to take her mind off of it. Some time with Leta seemed just the thing as Alyx too often had the smirk of someone who knew more than Corra would have liked, Addy, the poor thing, was a little too lovesick to ease Corra’s particular ache, and Cai? Well…Cai was a whole other can of worms.

“D’ya think if I ask nicely, the Carthians will give me one of those neat jackets?” he was saying as they strolled through the cargo bay side by side. Corra giggled stupidly and internally scolded herself for it. Somehow it had become her reaction to nearly everything he said, especially over the past few days. She’d giggle and she’d blush and she’d feel an annoying flutter in her stomach and then she’d get mad at herself. The last thing she needed right now was a stupid crush. Well. Another stupid crush. Any crushes. But especially crushes on people who she had no chance of romance with.

“Doubt it, but if you’re careful you could probably steal Finn’s when he’s drunk,” Corra suggested, though he didn’t seem too pleased about the idea.

“Maybe I’ll just ask him nicely,” he muttered thoughtfully. “I’d rather not upset him, he seems pretty attached to it…”

“Where is Finn anyway?” Corra asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Avoiding Corra by hiding in the bridge maybe? Drinking alone in the kitchen? Moping in his room about Elsa again?

“He said he had somewhere to be and left as soon as we docked,” Cai answered with a confused shrug. “Didn’t say when he’d be back. Did you need him for something?”

“Oh no, just curious,” she assured him as she stepped up to the ramp and stopped in her tracks. At the bottom stood perhaps the last person she expected to see here. Well. Second to last maybe.

“Cyrus?!” she exclaimed, flabbergasted.

Cyrus, who looked a bit like he’d fallen out of the shower backwards, landed on his head and then rolled the rest of the way here, stared up at her wide-eyed. “Corra, hey! Uh–” he began, but before he could continue, she had hurried down the ramp and thrown herself at him in a hug.

“What are you doing here?!” she demanded, holding him back at arm’s length.

“Oh, Carthis invited us or something. It’s a long story,” he muttered, glancing over her shoulder, clearly distracted.

Corra too turned around and realized Cai was standing behind her, smiling that stupid adorable idiotic smile of his. Remembering her manners, she seized his arm and pulled him over towards them. “Cy-Cy, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said. “This is–”

“Addy!” Cyrus exclaimed suddenly and it became very apparent that he was no longer listening. If he had been to begin with. At the top of the ramp stood the Beacon’s engineer who seemed just as shocked to see her long distance lover as Corra had been.

“Cy?” she asked in disbelief. Cyrus just stood there smiling up at her with all of his usual nerves and unsureness. But then the shock started to fade from Addy’s expression and was replaced instead by the happiness of someone who hadn’t seen their loved one in a month. Annoying as it was to be ignored, Corra couldn’t help but smile as she looked between the two of them. Especially when Addy suddenly decided to barrel down the ramp, throw herself into his arms and kiss him on the mouth. And kiss him. And continue kissing him…Still kissing him.

“Aww,” Cai commented. “Is this Addy’s boyfriend then?”

“I should hope so, the way they’re going at it,” Corra remarked, taking a cautious step away from the pair. She glanced up at Cai. “You can meet him later I guess. Let’s go find poke around this fancy station til Leta’s free, shall we? I bet they’ve got a killer armory.”

– – –

The slick modern bar in the lowest deck of the military station was lonely and empty, and Finn wasn’t surprised: most Carthian cadets were too busy and stressed to sit down for a drink. When he’d been a cadet, he certainly had never had the time to enjoy the entertainment corridor, which held gourmet eating areas, a dance floor, a private theater. Mostly the bar was for distinguished guests, like Fiearius, which was an odd thought.

But the whole deck was empty and quiet tonight. Finn sat at the corner of the bar alone for nearly an hour, nursing a glass of beer, and he only saw one other person approach the bartender: Admiral Gates. The older man appeared from the shadows, rapped his knuckles on the counter, downed a double-shot of whiskey, and then limped away back toward the elevators again. Finn snorted to himself, amazed; he’d always sort of liked that guy, though the feeling had never been mutual.

It was only when Elsa arrived, about twenty minutes late, that Finn stood up.

Fiearius paused, clearly surprised. “You know I’m not,” he pointed out, eyeing her with interest. “Daelen’s real serious about that confidentiality thing. You don’t think he didn’t ask permission every time he sent you medical updates? Anyway, no. I’ve been clean for 38 days and I’ve no intention of breaking that streak.”

“I was trying to get off it earlier,” he suddenly went on, to Leta’s surprise. “Months ago. I only took it to get over all the ARC shit, so once that was done, I genuinely tried to quit, but– it’s just hard. Even with constant medical supervision. It’s…really hard.”

Leta found herself nodding. She could think of nothing to say, especially when he edged closer in his chair and set his eyes directly on hers.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said, exhaling slowly. “I never meant to hurt you. I made a choice that was right for me at the time of making it. And at that time, I was desperate enough to not realize that my choice about me for me wasn’t only going to affect me.” He shrugged helplessly. “So I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I wasn’t honest about it.”

Here, he didn’t seem able to look at her any longer. “I was just afraid of losing you,” he admitted. “What we had always felt so…fragile to me. Like there would come a day when you’d look at me and realize who I am and who you are and know that you’d made a huge mistake.”

Leta didn’t realize how very still she’d grown as Fiearius kept talking. Still, quiet, as if paralyzed by the weight of his words. For several seconds she stared at a spot in the middle of the table, and then at last she picked up her gaze and looked at him — really looked at him, for the first time in nearly a month. Although he looked a little beaten up — circles around his eyes, his cheekbones more stark and gaunt — he was still very much the man she remembered, the man she’d slept next to nearly every night for half a year. And knowing that, she couldn’t bite back her confession.

“It never felt fragile to me,” she admitted quietly.

The words sat in the air heavily for a moment, until she leaned back in her seat, heaving a long, burdened sigh. She crossed her arms and went on, matter-of-factly now, “For what it’s worth, it wasn’t the drugs, Fiearius. I can live with someone who has a problem with addiction. It’s not an accident that I became a doctor — I’ve seen the worst in people and it doesn’t scare me off. That’s not why I left.” A flicker of intensity passed through her eyes. “It’s that you lied … that you thought you couldn’t trust me.”

At that, Fiearius shook his head vehemently. “It wasn’t you I didn’t trust. I–gods if there was just one thing I could take back, it’s that.” He met her stare seriously. “I do trust you. It wasn’t lack of trust that made me hide it from you. Just lack of courage.”

“Well — thank you,” she added, her voice lowering with sincerity. “For apologizing. I forgive you.”

Was their night winding down now? Perhaps it was. Perhaps this was all that needed to be said between them. They’d eaten, they’d talked, he’d apologized, she’d accepted his apology. Perhaps this was when they parted ways.

Somewhat uncertainly, Leta stood to her feet and took their plates to the sink. She wasn’t sure how to say goodbye, even just temporarily. When she turned around and her eyes set on Fiearius standing there, intense and burning with meaning, she sighed.

“Listen. I can accept that it’s — that this — that we’re over. But I can’t accept that you’re hurting yourself. If you use again, please just tell me.”

He cracked a dark, lopsided smirk, one that had won her over a thousand times before.

“Oh come on now, I would never. Only have to make a mistake twice, y’know… ”

As she picked up her bag from the floor and readied to leave, there was only one thing left to do: truly say goodbye. As they lingered near the door, Leta paused, then decided oh, what the hell and stepped closer for an embrace, which he accepted, pulling her into his chest. The warm weight of his hands on her back held her in place like an anchor.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she heard herself say quietly in his ear, a slight laugh in her voice, even though her expression was anything but comical and warm. Her forehead wrinkled with sudden distress as her chin brushed against his shoulder, her arms held his torso perhaps too tightly, one of her hands holding his shirt fabric at the small of his back. Her other hand was still knotted around the handle of her bag.

Finally, with a shaky sort of sigh, she drew away inch by inch, but then it happened: she made a colossal mistake, almost instinctively, as if she had no control over the error. She made the mistake of easing away and moving her face nearer toward his, sliding her eyes up to his, and then down to his lips. Breathing in sharply and softly, she froze.

Leta’s first thought was that Corra was going to kill her for this. But that thought grew dimmer in her mind as Fiearius met her eyes, then moved his gaze down her face. Seconds passed, and then slowly the curve of his mouth leaned in and brushed against hers in a tense, uncertain graze. She could still feel the unease between them, the uncertainty of how to move forward and how quickly. It was a slow burn of a kiss: unneedy, both of them hesitant. Clearly, Fiearius was as unsure as she was about this development.

But with a slow exhale Leta felt the tension melt from her skin. Warmth ran up her spine as the kiss began to build slowly, with more pressure and heat as his fingers curved against her back, pulling her closer. Now, the voice in the back of her mind was at war with itself. This is bad for both of us, scolded Logic and Reason. Nothing good would come of it.

But very quickly, Logic and Reason were no match for how Fiearius’ lips pressed and pressed into hers. Not for the first time, Leta silently marveled at just how good it felt, his hands at her hips and the small of her back, the expert way he held her in place. Her bag dropped to the floor at their feet and her hand went up to his neck, her fingers digging slightly against his neck.

Just as a surge of passion ran through them, Leta managed to take a hiss of a breath and regain some of herself. It took all of her effort to pull back even an inch, and it was then she realized just how entangled they’d become: her forearms rested at his shoulders, her body arched against his, achingly close. Pausing suddenly, Leta rested her forehead against Fiearius’, her chest heaving somewhat as she examined the way she was already intimately wrapped around him. She felt a surge of irritation with herself as she looked down at their intertwined bodies, but she made no motion to move.

“I — ” she stammered dropping one hand away from his shoulder. She pressed her slightly shaking fingertips against her bruised lips, in disbelief of what had just happened. And yet she was not surprised at all. Growing pale in spite of all the warmth and arousal rushing through her, Leta murmured, “Is this alright?” still short of breath.

Fiearius regarded her face closely. Then he shrugged one shoulder, leaned in and reclaimed her lips and hips and all of her and started to gently lead her towards the couch across the room.

——————–

Fiearius would have been outright lying if he’d said he hadn’t missed this. Physical desires hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind lately, but the intimacy? The passion? The spark of connection? He’d yearned for it often. Now that he’d lived out the scenario, he released a long, satisfied sigh of utter contentment. This was the best he’d felt in a month. A sheen of sweat covered his skin as he rolled over to catch his breath.

But it was then he found that this couch in the station’s lounge was not quite as wide as he’d thought. With a thud, he rolled over onto the floor.

At once, Leta propped herself up on her hand and laughed at him. “Oh come on, we’ve done it weirder places than this.”

“I’m a little out of practice lately, cut me a break,” he laughed.  Heaving a deep breath, and still chuckling, he pushed himself up on his palms and glanced over at the woman lying at his eye level. But the glance turned into a stare. Maybe it was the month he hadn’t seen her. Or maybe it was the fact that he likely wouldn’t see her like this again. But Gods, she looked beautiful. She had always been beautiful, but something about losing her made him appreciate it all the more. The perfect skin, the bright green eyes, the way her hair flowed in gentle waves around her head.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm, letting his thumb stroke the side of her face gently. “Should I apologize for this too?” he asked, his tone teasing, but his smile sincere. “I’m getting real good at apologies. I’m so sorry. I’m very sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” she teased. After a moment, she added, “Well I think this one is 50% my fault, so … I’m sorry too, I guess.”

But she was right: he was not really all that sorry. They were both adults, they were not the first recently-ended couple to have break-up sex. It happened, and they would move on from it. This was the final curtain drawing to a close on their relationship.

It had to be.

He watched as Leta reached for her blouse from the floor, picking it up and sliding it on over her head. Sitting on the edge of the couch, crossing her ankles a little nervously, she caught his eye and said, “So. Listen. Not that I didn’t enjoy that … ” A rather knowing pause fell. Considering she’d been writhing beneath him minutes before, seized by pleasure, he knew just how much she had enjoyed that. Flushing slightly, she went on in her usual neutral brisk tone, “But it’s probably not a good idea if we keep this up. I mean, we can’t keep sleeping together. It’s unhealthy, even for us.”

“You sure?” he asked, raising a brow at her. “You sure you wanna give this up? I mean, it really didn’t seem like you want to.” He grinned a lop-sided suggestive grin, but he knew better. He pushed himself up to his feet and stretched his arms over his head.

“I’m kidding, I agree entirely,” he clarified, his tone more serious as he crossed the room towards the kitchen, feeling suddenly hungry again. A few more empanadas sat on the counter, so he grabbed one and shoved half of it in his mouth before returning to her side and plopping down on the couch beside her, still undressed.

“This was a ‘one last time’ sort of thing,” he confirmed, nodding his head and eating the other half. “One amazing last time.” He smirked and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

As Leta stood up and finished getting dressed, she said, “So. I suppose I’ll see you around the station sometime?”

Fiearius raised a brow at her. “Doubt it. I’ll take advantage of the fancy kitchen a couple more times, but I’m outta here first thing tomorrow.”

Leta folded her arms and took a moment to study him. In a neutral voice, she said, “So you’re really not going to help.”

“No,” he said bluntly. “Are you?”

“I am. I’m providing maps of Vescent and I’m volunteering for their medical team.”

Slowly, Fiearius sat up on the couch. “You don’t — you don’t actually think this will work, do you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice plain and even. “I do.”

It was unnerving to hear her say the words. He knew Leta: she never said anything she didn’t mean. She was sharp. Unafraid to say no. She’d also been to Vescent and seen the worst of it, and yet she still believed it could be fixed? His mind started to race.

“Look,” he said after a moment. “I’m all for their noble cause, don’t get me wrong, but what makes you think they can do it? Carthis doesn’t have the best track record against the Society y’know. They’ve been fighting–and primarily losing–for decades. The Society’s got better tech, better trained people, not to mention a home-team advantage.”

“I know.” Leta nodded at him, unblinking. “That’s why we need help.”

Expectant silence filled the room. Then she reached for her bag, slung it over her shoulder and headed for the door. Out of habit, Fiearius stood to his feet, pulling his clothes on as he followed after her into the hallway.

“So — back to the pirating business then?” she asked, turning back once last time. “Smuggling weapons? Stealing cargo? Punching thugs?”

Truthfully, Fiearius hadn’t thought that far in advance. But it seemed safe to mutter, “Yeah. I guess so.”

“That’s surprising,” she mused, her voice thoughtful. “Back on the Dionysian, when we were planning those raids on Society ships … I know it really empowered you.”

The way she regarded him then made discomfort stir in his chest, though he couldn’t rightly place why. He forced an uneasy smirk. “Did Gates put you up to this?”

In a plain voice, she said, “No. It’s just a surprise to me is all.” As she adjusted her shoulderbag and walked away, she added, “I’ve just never known you to back down from a fight.”

Gates sighed. “Captain, regardless of what you think of us, I need you to consider the ramifications here. You call yourself a traitor, a coward, you say it was all an accident, perhaps it’s true. Perhaps you don’t deserve to be the inspiration of the revolution. But if you join with us, if you stand up and fight now, it would not be an accident. It would not be an act of cowardice or fear. It would be an act of bravery and solidarity, that would change the lives of millions of people for the better. Fine, you’re not a grand revolutionary, I accept that. But with the chance I’m giving you, you can become one.”

Fiearius stopped pacing. His eyes were fixed on his feet. It was like a hurricane had been set off in his head and he couldn’t contain it. He couldn’t see through it. He almost felt like he couldn’t breathe.

When Gates spoke again, his voice was calm, quiet, soothing. “I understand this is overwhelming. Perhaps we should recess for now. I’ve had accommodations prepared for you in the C deck. Take the night. Think it over. We can talk again tomorrow.”

Fiearius frowned. “I have a ship, I don’t need your accommodat –” he began, but Gates cut over him.

“Give me one moment, I need to make a quick call and then I’ll have someone take you to your room,” he said as he turned his attention to his desk.

Suddenly too exhausted to protest, Fiearius numbly drifted back towards the door. It slid open and he re-entered the dim lobby, barely aware of where he was or what he was doing here at all. Everything in his head had just shut off. Stopping the Society, liberating Vescent, symbols of the revolution? It was way too early for this. It would always be way too early for this.

He was so lost in his own head, he didn’t even notice that the man in the center of the room at  the desk apparently had company. And that the company was now staring at him. And then he did notice. And if he’d felt breathless before, he felt practically pummeled now. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Leta?” said his voice without his consent.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Around them, the lobby continued to bustle with activity: cadets beelined through the room, console screens flashed, an officer barked an order over the intercom. But Leta heard and saw none of it. She felt gutted, her eyes going round as she absorbed the sight of Fiearius. He did not, Leta noticed, look like himself: the usual glimmer of mischief was gone from his eyes. His cheekbones stood out more sharply than usual. His shoulders slumped, and his clothes hung off of him; he’d clearly lost weight that he did not need to spare.

As her shock began to fade (of course he was here, it was only a matter of time before Carthis called on him too), a certain rigidity came to Leta’s stance, as if she were ready to defend herself: her spine straightened and her mouth tightened with distaste.

“Fiearius.”

Slowly he took a few steps towards her, dragging his hand through his unruly hair. Through a deep breath, he said, “You look…well…”

You don’t, she almost said, biting the words back in her mouth. He’d made it through the withdrawals, clearly, but not unscathed.

“So,” he said sharply. “What are you doing here?”

She lifted her gaze to study his face, and it was then she decided to take a stab at being civil. No reason to open hostilities just yet. Actually, she was afraid if she did start to tell him, to really tell him and show him what she was feeling, she would not be able to restrain herself. It would all flood from her, unstoppable and unrelenting, and he would know just how much he’d hurt her.

And she could not allow for that.

“Helping research the lock-down on Vescent,” she said bluntly, shifting on her feet. She adjusted the satchel over her shoulder. “The Beacon dropped me off about a week ago. And Ren invited me. When he found out what the Carthians are planning, he vouched for me. He’s here on the station too.”

“Ah,” said Fiearius, a sudden note of bitterness in his voice. “Ren. Of course.”

Leta paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just…figures doesn’t it?”

Leta narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here? Never imagined you’d align with the military. You hate Carthis.”

“I do,” he admitted easily. “And I’m not aligned with them.”

“They sure seem to think highly of you.”

“Think highly of me?” he repeated incredulously as though she were a fool for saying it. “Please. They’re just want my resources so they’re playing nice for now. Any other situation, they’d have me hanged, guaranteed.”

“They’re not bad people, Fiearius. They’re trying to help.”

“Sure. ‘Help.’ Carthis just wants to help and everything is sunshine and rainbows. I guess you would believe that wouldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Leta hissed. “What the hell does that — “ She halted, and laughed bitterly. “Of course you’re insulting me. You should be apologizing to me like an adult and of course, this is all you can manage. “

“Wait, hang on, be an adult?” he repeated, taking an impassioned step towards her. “You want me to be an adult? I did apologize. I did nothing but apologize, for weeks.”

Leta scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. But he wasn’t done. “All those messages you never replied to? How about the daily calls you ignored? I tried to apologize to you, but I consistently got the message that you didn’t wanna hear it, so if you’re seriously expecting me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness now?”

“Yes, actually,” she snapped. “An apology now, now that you’re not high or sick or just desperately trying your hand at damage control would be the mature thing to do, yes.”

“Of course, I’m the immature one, sure. Not like you ran off a month ago or anything. Because that was the mature thing to do.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “But of course, silly me, you’re perfect and flawless and never do anything wrong,” he muttered bitterly. “I’m the screw up. Everything is my fault.”

“This is your fault!” she cried, clasping her fingers into her long hair in exasperation. All the bitter, acidic thoughts she’d toiled with the past four weeks began to spill forth, like poison being drawn from a wound. Genuine hurt cracked over her face, but she fought it off and instead gritted her teeth.

“You made your choice and now you have to live with it. Of course I left and ignored you. What else was I supposed to? I didn’t want to teach a thirty year old man how to say no to drugs,” she heard herself growl. “I don’t want to clean up after you. Not anymore.”

“No, you’d much rather just leave me right when I needed you most.”

“You lied to me, Fiearius,” she breathed, her voice low. “After everything we’ve been through, you lied to me and listened to Dez. You chose him over me.”

“I didn’t choose Dez,” he snapped, throwing his hand in the air in frustration. “I chose sanity. And it had nothing to do with you at the time. I only lied because look what the fuck happened when I didn’t!”

“What?” Leta gasped. “You really think you — ”

But it was then that a cadet nearby cleared his throat pointedly. Looking sideways, Leta realized they had acquired something of an audience: the room had gone silent, and twenty pairs of eyes were gazing at them in alarm.

“Um…sir?” said the cadet, throwing Fiearius a nervous glance. “I’m supposed to escort you to your quarters?”

Fiearius slammed his palm over his forehead. “Right. ‘My quarters’.” He turned back to Leta and grunted, “Look. I’m sorry. That was–not exactly how I wanted this to go. Can we…talk later? Properly?”

Leta hesitated. Finally she said, “Alright,” and watched as Fiearius walked away with the cadet, disappearing down the hall.

————–

Was she making a terrible mistake?

Steeped in unease, Leta asked herself the question a dozen times as she quietly navigated the metallic maze of hallways later that night. Was she making a terrible mistake, in meeting Fiearius like this? Their first meeting hadn’t just gone poorly. It had gone horribly. His words were ringing in her ears even now, and she burned with anger, shame, worry …

Finally (after making a couple wrong turns, as she was lost in her own head and distracted), Leta found herself glancing down at the numbers she’d inked on the inside of her wrist and slowing to a halt outside a set of double-doors. A keypad embedded in the wall, and to her surprise, an armed guard stood nearby.

“Evening, ma’am,” said the man in uniform, nodding once. “Are you here to meet with Captain Solivere?”

“I — yes,” Leta said, unsure if she should have been amused or alarmed by the decorum now required to talk with Fiearius Solivere. Of all people. These professional soldiers in the military, did they know Fiearius at all? Did they know that he conducted his business from dirty bars and slums in Archeti? That he wore the same torn, dirt-streaked clothes nearly everyday, or at least until Leta made him change? That he spent half his life barefoot? It seemed so unlikely to find him here. For a moment, Leta had the fleeting thought that she was involved some kind of practical joke.

But then the doors opened. Fiearius stood there and gave her a single nod of greeting, his expression tired.

Lingering in place, Leta lifted her eyebrows at him, a mixture of apology and alarm stirring in her green eyes, as she offered a plain, “Hey,” that sat heavily in the air between them. She could feel the guard straightening up and watching her as he muttered sternly, “Sir — sorry to interrupt — is she on your approved visitor list?”

To the guard, he said, “It’s fine. She’s fine. Come on in.”

Feeling rather awkward, she followed Fiearius into the room and considered all the things she wanted to ask him. How could you? was among them. How did this happen to us? was another. But as she followed him inside, the question that sprang forth was, “Holy — is this is where they’ve put you up to stay?”

The lounge was luxurious, like a hotel suite. Leta turned in a circle on the shining wooden floors and gazed over the arched ceilings, the mahogany half-moon bar, the vast console system, the grand piano. What in the world did Fiearius Solivere need with a grand piano? Was this the military’s way of casually bribing him, of getting him on their side? If so — Leta could have snorted to herself — they should’ve known that wealth and a comfortable bed wouldn’t work on him.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” he groaned, weaving his way toward the kitchen. “There’s a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, two bathrooms, one with a bath bigger than a shuttle, dining area, living room, lounging room because apparently that’s different, and the kitchen.” He gestured toward the counters around him. “Which is the one part I actually really appreciate. I haven’t had access to a legitimate grill in years. This Gates guy’s really tryin’ to sell me on this place.”

“Certainly pays to be a criminal outlaw these days,” she muttered to herself, turning around at last to face Fiearius. “Clearly I’m in the wrong line of work, all I got was a mid-range box with a bunk. What’re you — “

Abruptly, she was faced with the sight of Fiearius who was, of all things, holding out a plate full of food for her.

“I made peace empanadas,” he said. “They taste like peace. Or spinach and cheese, I can never tell the difference.”

Slowly she reached out and took one of the pastries, amusement lighting her eyes. “Is this your version of an olive branch?” she asked wondrously.

“Something like that.”

Together they sat down at the long dining room table, quietly eating, stealing stiff and amused glances at one another. Unspoken words sat awkwardly between them for minutes, until at last —

“So about earlier,” said Fiearius suddenly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, centering his gaze on her. “That was really bad. I think I’ve spent the last month imagining how that would go and how it actually went couldn’t have been further from what I was planning. I’m — really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she agreed, now openly staring at him. There was something achingly familiar about sitting across from him, sharing a meal he’d made. For a moment, her heart tinged with real longing.

But then she remembered herself. Lips thinning out, she lowered her hands from the table. “So. Are you still using?”