“That asshole,” was Corra’s summation once Leta (with a little help from Cyrus) had managed to explain. Already half an hour had passed since the fight that had driven Leta to the Beacon, but she was still reeling. Her hands were shaking in her lap. The calming hum of the empty bridge had done nothing to soothe her, nor did the tea and whiskey Cyrus had made, nor Corra’s assurance that she had expelled Fiearius from the ship and set some of her best guys on the job to make sure he stayed that way. She still felt adrift in some vast ocean barely able to keep treading water.

Corra’s feelings were a little more concise.

“That fucking, lying asshole.” She paced the room in a fervor. “I shoulda shot him. I really shoulda.” She turned on Cyrus who was slumped in the pilot’s seat looking as exhausted as she felt. “Why didn’t you let me shoot him?”

Cyrus lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. “‘Cause then he’d be a fucking, lying, bleeding asshole?”

Corra stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest. “The hell’s wrong with that?” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t think I can talk to him,” said Leta, her voice hollow and empty. “Or see him. Or even look at him.”

“Then we’ll go,” Corra said at once, as though it were the most simple solution ever uttered. When Leta looked up at her in surprise, she went on, “We’ll just go. Cyrus and I will go back to the Dionysian, grab your things, bring them here and we’ll leave. Today. Right now.”

“You mean — “ Leta was almost afraid to say the words aloud. “Move to the Beacon?”

“Why not?” Corra’s eyes shone with eagerness. “You want to get away from Captain Shithead? We’ll take you away from him. He’s toxic. His problems, in their vast quantity, are contagious and you don’t need him. Just come with us. We have plenty of space. Good work coming in, so we can easily afford to feed one more. We don’t get injured that often so you might get bored, but the crew’s great, the facilities are great, I’m here.” She stalked over to Leta and picked up her hands. “Join the Beacon. You’ll be much happier here, I know it.”

Leta couldn’t speak. She felt an odd sensation in her chest — painful, but hopeful.

“I don’t know if that’s really–” Cyrus began, leaning forward in his chair but Leta cut him off.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said at last, her voice gentle. Corra beamed. “I’d like that.”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Corra, however, was ecstatic. She gripped Leta’s forearms and bounced on her toes and let out a squeal.

“You’re right,” said Leta quietly. “It’s time. I said I’d only leave the Dionysian when it was time. And — it’s time.”

“Yes, let’s go!” Corra agreed, releasing her and flitting across to the navigation console. “Where do you wanna go? A vineyard on Rossind? Shopping on Tarin? A casino in Genisi? Without Mr. Wanted-By-Everyone-Everywhere, we could even do a tropical getaway on Paraven?”

Leta smiled weakly. Corra’s glee was almost, but not quite, contagious. “Remember we always said we’d visit the hot springs just outside of Vena?”

“You got it!” Corra yelped. “We’ll go anywhere you want! By tonight you’ll be saying Fieari-who? I guarantee it.”

Cyrus finally got to his feet, looking dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious,” he said, staring between the two of them. “What, just–whisking away. Just like that. Isn’t that kind of unnecessary?”

“Unnecessary?” Corra repeated. “It’s completely necessary.”

Cyrus ignored her and looked desperately to Leta. “Look, I know you’re mad at him, but c’mon. You can’t just leave. I mean, what he did was shitty, but this, fleeing on the Beacon…isn’t this kind of ridiculous?”

Corra’s glare was sudden and intense. “Wait, please tell me you’re not defending him?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” Cyrus said hurriedly, “But you can’t just leave like this.”

“Cyrus,” Leta pressed softly. “I’m sorry. But I think it’s time. I’m no help to Fiearius — in any way — if he can’t even tell me about something like this. He needs a doctor he can talk to. And I’m not clearly that person anymore.”

“But what about the rest of us?” Cyrus despaired. “I know you just want to get away from Fiear and I respect that, but if you leave us here? I don’t know the first thing about withdrawals or getting people through them or anything! And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? We can’t afford to stay docked here much longer than a week. The Society’s still tailing us. We’re severely low on cash. And, incidentally, rations. And even if we figure all that out, there’s still the matter that my brother, hate him all you want, could die without medical care that I can’t give him. I’m not defending Fiearius, I’m asking for help.”

“Cyrus. Of course I don’t want Fiearius to suffer, but I can’t–”

But another voice interrupted her, warm and kind. “You’ll have help.”

It was Daelen in the doorway, his eyes kind and a little sad. When Corra cast him a look of concern, he held up his hand and went on, “Despite what we say captain, the Beacon doesn’t have a need for two physicians. Leta can take my place here and I’ll take hers on the Dionysian. And we’ll get through it.”

Cyrus couldn’t have looked more relieved. “Thank you,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“So it’s settled then,” said Corra, clapping her hands together. “Daelen will go to the Dionysian, Leta will stay here, Fiearius will realize how big of an idiot he is — and we’ll all get through this.”

Privately, sincerely, Leta was not sure that they would. But she said nothing as everyone murmured agreement.

“I’ll go get your stuff together, alright?” said Cyrus quietly, catching Leta’s eye and giving her a look of encouragement. He squeezed her shoulder, and he and Daelen left the room, leaving heavy, confused silence in their wake.

Corra beamed at her, clearly excited.  “So. Ready to go then huh?” she said, but Leta was finding it difficult to speak. Her throat suddenly tightened.

“I don’t know if I am. But I don’t know how I could stay, either.”

“Leta, it’s alright to leave! Daelen’s a great doctor, you know that, I know that, everyone knows it. He’ll handle things on the Dionysian just fine. Don’t worry about it. Fiear’ll get through this like he gets through everything and come out the other side just as much a piece of space trash as he was when he went in.”

As much as Leta wanted to laugh at Corra’s words, to really agree with her, she couldn’t. She felt herself dissolving, and Corra reached out and took her shoulder.

“I really can’t believe Fiearius didn’t tell you,” she said quietly, which made Leta’s eyes swim with tears.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” she admitted, bringing her hands to her face.

“Look, I’m quite versed on how dumb it was, alright? Hindsight’s 20/20,” he said, fighting to keep himself from snapping. “And I wanted to tell you! I almost did, just–”

“Just what?”

“Just, I knew you’d react like this!” he finished with a yell that surprised them all.

He knew he’d said the wrong thing when Leta’s eyes flashed and then, abruptly, she turned around and stalked down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he called, growling his frustration. He did not hesitate in following after her, his footsteps pounding down the hallway, but she didn’t look back. “I didn’t want to upset you! It was my problem to fix, not yours!”

“And are you fixing it? Are you?” She shot him an icy glare. “How well is that working out for you?”

“Well, it’s–” He stammered and then frowned. “Fine. It’s not. I couldn’t do it. I failed. Is that what you want to hear? I screwed up. But I’m fixing it now, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was a mistake, but I’m trying to make it right. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

When she only scoffed in disbelief, he reached for her arm, but she yanked it away. Groaning, he stopped and barked, “Would you fucking stop and just talk to me?!”

When she stopped abruptly and regarded him closely in icy silence, he thought he might’ve won a piece of her back. At the very least, her expression was less hardened. Softer. Sadder. He could still fix this, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

But then she asked, “Who else knows?”

It was, quite possibly, one of the worst questions she could’ve asked. His heart sank.

“Dez knows, of course,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Daelen found out just a few days back. I talked to Cyrus about it ten minutes ago.” He took a deep breath. “And I told Finn.”

Leta blinked slowly. He knew she was experiencing another wave of shock. “You told Finn and not me,” she said at last, voice shaking. “You’ve been putting your trust in Dez, Daelen, Finn, and not me?”

“No, of course I trust you, you know that I do, but–” Fiearius shook his head. “There are some things I can’t trust you with.”

“Excuse me?” she flared. “What the hell does that mean?”

It meant he’d made a mistake. A big one. He knew he should have backpedaled. He should have apologized and made an excuse and pretend he hadn’t meant it. But as he stood there, watching her slip from his grasp with each passing second, he felt cornered and he started to feel not sorry but panicked and — worse — angry. So he did the opposite.

“You know what it means,” he snapped, throwing a hand in the air in frustration. “Because you’ve always been like this! I have to walk on fucking eggshells around you because gods forbid I do one thing that doesn’t fit into your perfect narrow vision of what’s ‘good’ and ‘right.’ Of course I can’t tell you some things.”

“Narrow vision of — wait, are you trying to argue that lying was the right thing to do?”

“No! No, not–That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what are you talking about? How I don’t like it when you murder people for a quick credit? Or steal from innocent people? Or how I pushed you toward doing something good instead of selling guns to low-lifes?”

“See, this is exactly what I’m–Look, my number one priority is keeping my crew alive and my ship in the air and I have always done whatever it takes to make that happen. And then you show up with your moral high ground–”

“Moral high ground?! Are you–”

“–and I have to compromise everything just to make you happy. I used to think that being around you would make me a better person. The kind of person that you would approve of. But you know what I think now? It’s just made me better at pretending to be.”

“Apparently,” she breathed, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Certainly had me fooled for long enough.”

Fiearius almost laughed. Almost. “I was never good enough for you, was I? What was this? Just a ‘fuck you’ to your ex? To your father? Or was I a failed fixer-upper experiment? Why the fuck are you even with me?”

Leta fixed him with one long, hard glare, then turned away. When she started storming off, he could not say he was surprised.

“Shit,” he muttered as the full error of his actions became more clear. Foolish as it was, he started following after her again. Her feet pounded down the stairs, all the way through the cargo bay and down the ramp. For a moment he had no idea where she could be headed, but then he realized, she was headed toward safety: the Beacon.

“Leta!” he called, just as she stalked up the Beacon’s ramp. “Leta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–Please, listen to me — ” he begged, but all she said was, her voice ice cold, “Leave me alone, Fiearius.”

Clenching his jaw, Fiearius paused only for a moment before starting after her. He did not make it far. Just when he headed toward a set of metal stairs, Corra cut in front of him, her hands on his hips.

“I think she said to leave her alone,” Corra snapped. Fiearius groaned. Just what he needed. A best friend intervention.

“Out of the way Corra,” he grumbled, attempting to edge around her, but suddenly he heard a familiar metallic clunk. A gun was staring him in the face, locked in Corra’s hand. Fiearius staggered a few steps back. “What’re you–”

“She said to leave her alone,” Corra growled again. “Maybe you should do that.”

Stunned, Fiearius looked from her face to the gun and back again. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Get off my ship,” she barked.

“Corra I–I just need to talk to her,” he tried to reason.

“Well clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“I don’t care. She said to go, you go. Seems pretty simple to me.” Corra tilted her head and lifted her brows, patiently waiting for him to move. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. This was stupid. He just needed to talk to her, he could fix this if Corra would just get out of his way.

But she didn’t seem likely to. “Get. Off. Of my ship, Fiearius,” Corra snapped, speaking slowly like he was a child. “Just turn right around and go.” When he didn’t budge, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me shoot you again, Fiear, you know I will.”

Getting shot hardly seemed like the largest of his worries right now. “I’m not leaving,” he informed her.

Corra sighed. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She cocked her gun and pointed it at his shoulder. “Where do you want it? I’m thinkin’ arm area so you can still walk out of here, but it’s up to you.”

“Don’t.”

The voice came from behind them. It was Cyrus, marching up the Beacon’s ramp. He was coming to Fiearius’ aid, but he could not have looked less pleased about it. “Please don’t, he’s already fucked up enough as it is without a bullet in him,” he muttered, refusing to even glance at his brother.

Corra cast Cyrus a wary look. “Do I need to kick you out too or…?”

“Nope, as usual, I am an innocent bystander in my brother’s mess,” Cyrus answered. “Where did she go?”

Corra nodded her head in the direction Leta had fled and Cyrus headed off again. For the first time, Fiearius felt a small glimmer of hope. “Talk some sense into her, Cy,” he called after him, pleading in his voice. “Please.”

But Cyrus did not look back as he disappeared down the hallway.

– – – – – –

Across from him, Daelen simply watched, patient as ever. For a long moment, as Fiearius tore through the infirmary, back and forth, back and forth, he said nothing. He just watched. It was only when Fiearius finally stopped, dead center, feeling his foundation starting to crumble, that Daelen spoke.

“Captain,” he began slowly. “I know that this is a frightening prospect. I understand. But I need you to understand what’s going to happen if you can’t sever your dependency on this drug.” Daelen took a deep breath. “It’s primarily affecting your liver, kidneys and nervous system. If your liver starts to fail, you’ll become jaundiced, weak, you could become disoriented or slip into a coma. If it fails, you will die. If your kidneys fail. You will die. But most concerning of all, what you were taking has started to affect your nerve endings. If this continues, you could lose feeling to your extremities, become paralyzed, epileptic or even lose mental stability.”

Fiearius could do nothing but stare back at him, entirely speechless.

“Now I get your hesitation, I do. But captain, this drug will be your end. It may not be immediate, it may not even be for a decade, but if you keep taking it, it will kill you. And it will not be pretty. It will not be painless. And it will not be dignified.” He approached Fiearius and lifted his brows at him. “I can’t force you to do anything. But I know what I would choose.”

He didn’t make it sound like much of a choice. Fiearius was still stunned to silence when Daelen put a tablet in his hand. “Here are your test results and a basic treatment summary for typical withdrawal symptoms. Look through it. Research it on your own. Make your decision. If you do choose to go through with the detox, and I hope you do, I suggest you come clean about it now.” He grasped Fiearius’ shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “She deserves to know.”

– – – –

It was odd to be on this side of an examination, Leta thought, swinging her legs back and forth on the bench as Daelen finished tending to her. He pressed a stethoscope against her back, the buds tucked into his ears as he listened to her breathing. Satisfied, he stepped back and slid the device to rest around his neck.

“Well whatever happened to you while you were unconscious, it doesn’t seem too invasive,” he said, peeling the latex gloves from his hands. “Besides the puncture wound on your neck, I see no other signs of contact. Do you feel any unusual pressure or pain anywhere?”

“No, nothing. I’m even sleeping well again,” she said, thinking briefly of the previous night she’d spend with Fiearius at the hotel. After a moment, she muttered, “So they really gave me the ARC treatment, didn’t they?” though she was quite sure she knew of the answer.

“Signs point to yes. There’s definitely traces of something in your blood and it’s not something I recognize.” He crossed the white tile floor to examine his console screen. “I’ll have to do some research before I can confirm the compound matches what’s been identified as ARC, but as of now?” He glanced back at her. “I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

“Do you think it’ll have any long-term effects?”

“It could,” Daelen admitted. “The dosage you were given was clearly quite small given how little is left and I predict it will physically be out of your system in no more than a few days, but as far as lingering mental effects?” He shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

Leta heaved a sigh, but forced any dark thoughts from her mind. She’d made it back from Vescent relatively unscathed — really, what more could she ask for?

In a tone that was more cheerful than she felt, she pushed down from the bench and said, “Don’t suppose you usually get patients this interesting everyday, do you, doctor?” She smiled. “How are things going on the Beacon, anyway?”

“Oh, quite well.” He turned away from the console. “The crew likes to keep me busy. Captain Corra in particular has a tendency to demand infirmary care for such little things as minor bruises. Though I’m beginning to suspect she’s more interested in the conversation than the bandages.”

“She tried to get me to take that position,” Leta remembered. “And move over here with her.”

“You’re welcome to take the offer, there’s certainly plenty of space for the two of us,” he mused, gesturing at the massive infirmary around them. “Though the Dionysian might fare better with you rather than without.”

“I always said I’d leave the Dionysian only when I was really ready.”

“So not yet then,” Daelen prompted, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Well … if and when you ever are, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’d be happy to have you. Now, just give me a minute to clean up a little and then we’ll go over the test results together.”

He stepped towards the counter to clear away the medical supplies, but Leta rolled her eyes. “Please, I can read a test chart,” she said, crossing toward the console screen herself.

“Shall I remind you how big of a breach of confidentiality that is?” he called back to her as he washed his hands, but he made no motion to stop her as Leta touched her fingers to the screen. “I guess you are going to take that ‘doctors are the worst patients’ cliche to heart.”

“Ha, ha,” said Leta dryly, before focusing her attention on scrolling her medical chart. What she found made her stomach knot in unpleasant surprise. According to the screen, her blood pressure was dangerously low (and then dangerously high); her temperature was feverish; she was having difficulty breathing and was at a near-constant risk for seizures.

“Wait…this is — this doesn’t make sense.”

“Hm?” said Daelen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“These levels are–this can’t be right. I thought you said I only got a small dosage.”

“You did,” he said, frowning.

He walked over and joined her at the screen as Leta went on, “Then how are my levels so dramatically off? ARC shouldn’t be able to do this. Especially a small dose. Why is it like this?”

And then just as Daelen arrived at her shoulder and went very still, Leta noticed the name emblazened at the top of the screen: it wasn’t hers.

“Leta…” said Daelen quietly, warning in his voice.

“This … this is Fiearius’ chart.” Leta rounded on Daelen at once. “What’s going on here? What’s the matter with him?””

Daelen drew his eyebrows together, clearly troubled. “You know I can’t discuss my other patients with you.”

“Daelen, we’re not in the clinic anymore,” said Leta sharply. She could feel her heart beating fast. “Tell me what’s going on with Fiearius.”

“Leta,” said Daelen, throwing an uneasy glance at the screen, “you shouldn’t even be looking at — “

“Fine,” Leta snapped. “I’ll talk to him myself.”

Without a backwards glance, she stalked from the room to find Fiearius.

An hour earlier, Fiearius had been in the Beacon’s infirmary, leaning against the counter and nervously tapping his fingers against its surface. Despite Daelen’s instructions, he refused to go anywhere near the infirmary beds. He’d lived in one for nearly a month and he had no desire to repeat that, even if that meant irritating the good doctor.

After they’d returned from their stay at the hotel, he’d dropped Leta off at breakfast with Corra. Corra had been more than happy to take her off his hands and Leta, in much better spirits today, seemed glad to be in the company of her friend as Fiearius attended to an important meeting he couldn’t get out of. He’d failed to mention who the meeting was with and where.

But that didn’t make him less nervous about being caught. “Can we hurry this up by any chance?” he muttered as Daelen stood at the console, tapping away like nothing was wrong, the bastard.

“Afraid not,” said Daelen simply. “It takes what it takes.”

Fiearius groaned and pushed himself from the counter, taking to pacing around the room. “I thought you already did the blood test thing. Why do you have to do it again anyway?”

“I need to monitor any changes.” He glanced back at him. “You haven’t been using, correct?”

“No of course not,” Fiearius growled, rolling his eyes. “Not since you gave me those meds.”

“So you think they’re working then?”

Fiearius hesitated. Sure, they’d worked for three days. But he could do three days on his own, that part was easy. Even with the meds, would he still be alright when the fever started? Or the vomiting? Somehow he doubted it, but nonetheless he muttered a flippant, “Yeah, probably.”

“That’s great,” Daelen said cheerfully, but with a certain tone that made Fiearius think he knew he was lying. “Though it will still be a lot easier if you can tell me exactly what you were taking.”

It was probably the tenth time he’d asked and yet still Fiearius couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Something about saying the word out loud, about telling this doctor, made it seem so…final. It felt like leaping off the edge of a cliff. So yet again, he deflected. “Can’t you just figure it out? With science or whatever?”

“I have theories,” Daelen replied, undeterred as ever, even as he cast Fiearius a pointed sideways glance. “But facts are a lot more useful.” Fiearius met his stare head on before scoffing indignantly and needing to look away.

Just then, the console Daelen was working on made a ding. “Ah, there we go,” he chimed as Fiearius slowly drifted towards him to hover behind his shoulder. On the screen was a chart, but it meant very little to him. Numbers and letters he didn’t recognize, an array of illegible information. Daelen easily scrolled through it, making a few thoughtful ‘hm’s’ as he went along.

Finally, Fiearius couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?” he demanded.

“Well.” Daelen turned to face him. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. Which would you like first?”

It was a question Fiearius never found comforting. “Bad, I guess.”

Daelen began to pace a slow circle around him. “The bad news is that your blood levels haven’t changed as much as I was hoping they would and your vitals are starting to weaken. You’re in the beginning stages of withdrawal and the medication you’ve been taking seems to be having no effect.”

Fiearius stared at him, feeling suddenly numb. “No effect? At all?”

“I’m afraid not. Whatever dependency you’ve developed, it’s stronger than the medication to battle it. We could keep trying it, but I doubt it’ll be effective.”

“So…what does that mean?”

“Well that’s the good news,” Daelen went on. “You’re not my first addiction patient and you definitely won’t be the first that I’ve helped through withdrawals. The Beacon is well-stocked with painkillers and fever reducers and I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way to make the detox process as painless as possible.” He smiled what he must have thought was an encouraging smile and laid his hand on Fiearius’ shoulder. “We can get through this.”

This. Get through Flush withdrawals. The thought made a shiver run down Fiearius’ spine. He couldn’t remember the brunt of them from the first time around — he’d been completely delirious. For a week. But he could remember the time going in and coming out of that week and he would take getting beaten, shot, electrocuted and partially set on fire over going through that again. And here was Daelen telling him he could ‘get through this’.

Of course, this had always been the plan, hadn’t it? He had been trying to get off this shit for a while now, of course, he’d known, eventually it would come to this. But up until now, it had never felt very real before. He’d never made it past the first few days before he’d given up. The horror of it had stayed safely at a distance. But now he could feel it staring him right in the face and he was unable to look away.

Daelen, however, had already moved on. “Now, by my estimates based on these readings, we have a couple of days before your symptoms amplify. In that time, we’ll work together to map out a plan. You’re likely going to be bedridden for some time and it’s essential that I’m with you through the process so we’ll have to discuss ship arrangements of course.”

Ship arrangements? Gods, what the hell was he getting into? Thoughtlessly, he took a few steps back and sank onto the edge of the infirmary bed. Suddenly, recovery seemed huge and overwhelming, like he stood at the base of a mountain.

He couldn’t do this. What was Daelen talking about? He couldn’t do this, but Daelen just kept going on.

“–and I’ll also need to know in advance any allergies you might have. If you’ve taken anything else recently? If you can give me a sample of the drug, I should be able to create a more comprehensive treatment. We should also discuss with Leta if she’d be willing to–”

That was where Fiearius tuned out. Leta. He could already imagine her face, horrified, when she found out. And she would find out. She would see. She would know.

“I can’t,” he said suddenly, standing up and shaking his head. Daelen stopped mid-sentence and stared. “I can’t do this. I can’t go through the withdrawals. Everyone will know.”

Daelen regarded him with calm, polite interest. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Yes, I’m afraid there’s little chance this can be conducted in secrecy.”

Fiearius just continued to shake his head, pacing the room furiously. “I can’t do it. I won’t do it. She can’t find out.”