Early the next morning, Fiearius did not hesitate. Quietly as he could, he slid his arms away from Leta’s sleeping figure and dressed quickly in the dark. Seconds later, he was descending the staircase to the lowest deck, his feet pounding down the metal steps. Even at this early hour, he guessed the observation deck would not be empty, and sure enough …

Dez was in upon the bench facing the great black window, reading a book. Fiearius approached, dropped his hand into his pocket and tossed the bottle of pills into his lap.

“Here,” he said abruptly. “I’m not taking these anymore. You can keep ‘em.”

He turned on his heel to leave but Dez spoke up, sounding curious.

“Can I ask why?”

Fiearius turned back, frowning. There was a multitude of reasons to refuse Flush, especially after last night. The burn of Leta’s green eyes flashed through his mind.

But all he said was, “Because I don’t need it anymore. My legs are fully healed.”

“Do you not remember the last time you went cold turkey?”

He meant the withdrawals. Of course Fiearius remembered. He’d been bedridden in excruciating pain for nearly a month. Aela had been forced to restrain him to keep him from injuring himself. Flush on its own hit hard and he’d seen first hand that its withdrawal hit harder.

But that didn’t change his decision.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’ll manage,” he said briskly as he moved toward the door. He’d have to manage. And hope to the gods it wouldn’t be so agonizing this time.

“Perhaps,” Dez mused with a shrug. “What about today?”

For the second time, Fiearius froze on the edge of the doorway. “What about today?”

“Will you manage today?” Dez asked as though it were the most mundane question in the Span. When Fiearius said nothing, he went on, “I cared for him too. Whether you’d like to believe that or not.”

Fiearius slowly turned around, shocked. But of course, Dez had been a part of Denarian’s life. A most unlikely babysitter, but the kid had been fond of him. It was something Fiearius had long forgotten. He had a hard enough time holding onto his own memories of Denarian, let alone memories of Denarian and a very different Desophyles than the one that stood before him now.

“For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to him,” Dez continued as Fiearius fixed his stare on him. “I’m not sure I ever had the chance to say it. But I’m sorry. He was a good person. He didn’t deserve such a cruel fate.”

Fiearius moved his eyes past Dez. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. “No,” was all he managed. “No he didn’t.”

“I won’t soon forget the day I first met him. Barely three days old. Tiny and fragile and a funny shade of pink.” Dez frowned. “He then proceeded to piss on me.”

At that, Fiearius couldn’t hold back a pained laugh. “He always was a good judge of character.”

“Especially for someone so very small,” Dez agreed.

“D’ya remember Architan?” Fiearius asked suddenly.

“Was that the vile monkey toy you bought him? That made the screeching noise?”

“That’s the one. Y’know he only liked that stupid monkey because you told him you hated it so much.”

Dez raised his brows with interest. “Like father like son I suppose.”

Fiearius shrugged a shoulder, feeling his spirits lighten. He’d never been able to speak to anyone about Denarian quite like this. Not since he’d passed. No one on the Dionysian had ever known him. They weren’t a part of that chapter of his life and today of all days, there was something incredibly relieving to be found in the company of someone who had been.

But as relieved as he may have been, the seed of doubt started to sprout when Dez asked, “Have you decided what you intend to do next?”

Fiearius’ jaw tightened. “I have,” was all he said.

“And?”

But before Fiearius would give him the benefit of an answer, he had to know. He stepped forward, full of steel.

“First, tell me why. Why you want to–I don’t know, what are you trying to do? Get supporters? Start a rebellion against the Society or something? Why?”

Dez lowered the book in his lap and sat up straighter. “You of all people, who would have his son by his side today were it not for the Society, have to ask me that?”

Anger struck him, but Fiearius’ voice was even when he said, “You don’t want a rebellion for my son.”

“Not only for your son, no,” said Dez. “But you weren’t the only one to lose someone to the Society.”

At that, Fiearius bit the inside of his mouth and went coldly quiet.

It was too easy to forget about Dez’s family. They too had paid debts to the Society in blood. Dez had four brothers. Two of them had been killed in action as Internal Affairs agents. A third had been taken out by one of their Internal coworkers for accidentally leaking information. As far as Fiearius knew, only Dez’s youngest sibling and his mother survived.

But it still didn’t add up. “You were the most loyal agent out there for years,” said Fiearius sharply. “Since you joined. Through all the deaths. What changed?”

“I was shown the right path,” said Dez simply.

Fiearius groaned and put his hand over his eyes. “Oh not this again. So that’s the answer? The dov’ha told you to do it?”

“Just because you’ve strayed from your faith doesn’t mean you should insult mine.”

“Didn’t have much faith to stray from,” Fiearius muttered, but Dez had already went on.

“The dov’ha told me nothing, but they made clear to me the path that we are on. The path we have always been on. When I saw you under the effects of the ARC treatment, I understood. All the lives that we have taken, the deaths we have claimed, the deaths we have caused. Don’t you see? Everything has lead us to this moment. Losing Denarian, losing my brothers, losing our power, it was all inevitable. And now is our moment to mend what we have broken.”

“So it’s vengeance,” Fiearius said bluntly. “You could just say you want vengeance, y’know.”

“It’s more than vengeance, Fiearius. It’s justice. It’s our divine calling. You can try to swerve away from the path as much as you like, but you’ll always come back to it. You’ll complete the circle eventually.”

Fiearius just shook his head. “Good to know you’re still nuts. At least some things never change,” he muttered. “But I’m not looking to overthrow anything. Nor am I going to ‘rally’ anybody. Or start anything. And it’s sure as hell not any circle. But.” He took a deep breath. “I have decided we’ll be moving forward with this attacking the Society thing.” At Dez’s satisfied smirk, he snapped, “But only because we have no other choice.”

“Of course,” Dez admitted, his tone laced with innocence. “Whatever lie you need to tell yourself to complete the dov’ha’s will. However. If you intend to continue on this path, you’ll need this back.”

He stood up and held out the small pill bottle.

“No,” Fiearius said simply. “No, I really won’t.”

“You’re better on it Fiearius and you know it. You’ll be at a disadvantage if you’re not.”

“No. I won’t.”

“If you don’t take it, you won’t have the focus to complete this.”

“Don’t care.”

He thrust it at him again. “You must take it, Fiearius.” But Fiearius knocked it out of his hand. As the bottle fell to the floor with a clatter, Dez observed him skeptically.

And then, his voice colder than ice, he asked, “It’s because of her isn’t it?”

Fiearius’ body went very still. “Excuse me?” he asked, daring him to go on.

Dez leveled him a steady, knowing stare. “It’s because of the girl. Your little mistake. You’re afraid it’ll upset her.”

Fiearius took a step closer to him. “If I were you,” he growled, “I’d watch what I–”

“She’s leading you in the wrong direction, Fiearius. She’s weak. She can’t do what needs to be done. You and I are on this path because we’re prepared for it. She is not. She will slow you down and trip you up again and again.”

“She’s not weak,” Fiearius spat, his fist twitching at his side. A few more words and Fiearius knew it would have been his job to plant it in Dez’s face. “Why don’t you just–”

“She’s drawn you in with empty promises of love and affection, but if she truly knew you, she would leave in a heartbeat. You keep yourself from her and you know it. You hide your darker edges,” he gestured towards the Flush on the floor, “because you know she’d turn her back on you if she knew.”

With a growl, Fiearius stepped forward and seized Dez’s collar, tugging him towards him. “You best mind your words, Dez — ”

“Yes,” Dez agreed, unphased by the physical contact. “And you best mind your nature.”

With another growl, Fiearius released him and pushed him away. He could think of nothing left to do but turn on his heel and stalk from the room, his mind racing.

He lowered his hand from his hair and sighed, a long exhale of breath. Then he said, to her shock, “You know about Denarian, don’t you? My son?”

Leta blinked her eyes slowly, as if in a dream. Yes, she knew about Fiearius’ lost son — because Cyrus had let it drunkenly slip months ago. But she’d never once spoken about this with Fiearius. He’d never approached the topic and she had no desire to bring him to face it.

She felt too startled to speak, so Fiearius went on, “Remember a couple weeks ago, when Corra made that joke about the two of us having a litter of children one day? But then said she couldn’t imagine me ever raising a kid?” Leta felt herself nod. “The way you looked at me then…I just assumed you knew. So. Cyrus told you?”

Well, she couldn’t outright lie to him.

“He did tell me. I’m really sorry, Fiear, I should have told you I knew but it didn’t feel right. He told me months ago. When I first came aboard … when I barely knew you.”

Fiearius shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s probably easier this way anyhow. The thought of having to bring it up cold after all this time is…considerably worse.”

He slowly lowered to the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. He scrunched his forehead and went on, “But for the record, sorry on my part too. For not telling you myself. It’s–it’s not always that easy to talk about.”

Leta stepped forward and tentatively joined him on the edge of the bed, facing him as he stared at the floor. “I figured you had your reasons,” she said, watching as Fiearius dropped his forehead into his hand.

“I put a lot of effort into not focusing on the day — the day he died. The day that everything went to hell. It comes and goes each year and I don’t let it bog me down. I can’t or…” He swallowed with difficulty. “But this day. Today. Today I just can’t seem to let go.”

Leta felt almost too scared to ask. “Why?”

“He would have been nine today.”

Leta felt her lungs tighten. Then, all at once, a tidal wave of sorrow plunged through her. Grief — that’s what this was. Fiearius was grieving. Over his son. On his birthday. That’s why he’d been so off tonight, quietly unsettled, agitated and distant. He simply missed his child.

Leta opened her mouth, then closed it again, as she slid her hand up his back and held onto his shoulder. He must have read the questioning in her eyes, because he said —

“He was shot,” he said suddenly, looking up at her with a deadened gaze. “That’s what you were wondering right? How he died? I once told you the reason I became the Verdant. Because they gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse?” He looked away. “He was the offer. Him and Aela.” A heavy, shaky sigh passed his lips. “Though in the end it didn’t work out anyway…”

Leta focused on pushing air out of her lungs — it was suddenly very difficult.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her breath catching hotly in her throat as her eyes dropped to the floor, almost unwilling to look at him for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

She leaned into him, dropping her lips against his shoulder. Fiearius seemed grateful to bury his face in her hair and when he spoke again, it was quiet, muffled and starting to crack with real, raw pain.

“I don’t deserve ‘sorry.’ It’s my fault.”

“That’s not true,” said Leta in his ear. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Can’t I? I brought a child into a dangerous situation, he was my responsibility that I took and I failed to protect him. Because I was overconfident and stubborn. Because I refused to listen. Because I didn’t do what needed to be done until it was too late.”

Leta drew back, her hands on his shoulders. She locked her gaze with him and saw that his eyes were bloodshot and blurring.

“Fiearius, no. How could you have known what would happen? If anyone’s to blame it’s the Society. They used him against you.”

“The Society may have pulled the trigger,” he breathed, “but I loaded the gun.”

Then he dropped his chin to his chest, his voice choking. “He was a good kid. A great kid.” She could hear the tears thickening his voice. “I mean, he was a nightmare. Of course. How could my son not be? But still great.”

Finally he looked up, straight at the ceiling. “I just wanted him to have a normal life, y’know? As normal as he could anyway. He liked swings and spaceships and cake, just regular kid stuff. He may have had my destructive energy, but he had Aela’s charm. And brains. She taught him to read before he even started school. He was smart. Gifted, she said. He could’ve gone on to so many better things.” He was shaking his head and barely holding it together now. “But I fucked it up. She kept telling me we needed to leave, move away from Paradiex, but I didn’t want to. I was too selfish. Too power-hungry. And Denarian paid for my sins.”

Leta took his hands and held them in her lap. He drew in a shaky breath and lifted his eyes back to hers. “You would’ve liked him, I think. Never met anyone who didn’t. And he would’ve been fascinated by you. Anyone from another planet and he was just full of questions.”

“I’m sure I would’ve liked him,” said Leta, her voice hovering somewhere between fondness and incredible sorrow. “And I know you were a good father.” Even saying the words was enough to make her throat swell for a moment, a knife through her chest.

Fiearius inhaled another trembling breath. “Sorry to dump all this on you.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I just — miss him. He was everything to me. That life with him that’s so distant and so unfamiliar it hardly even feels like mine anymore…it was everything.”

“Then I think it’s good to talk about him. To remember him. As often as you need to. And when we bite back against the Society … we can do it for him. So what happened to him will never happen again to anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Fiearius agreed, taking in deep breaths and finally managing to get them even.  “Yeah. You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, then released. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” He looked down at their hands laced together and gripped hers tighter. “We’ll do it for Denarian.”

Leta bit down on her bottom lip. “And listen, I know nothing can replace him, ever  — ever… But — I still think you should remember, that you’re surrounded by people — Suddenly, she locked on her gaze on his, her eyes shining with vulnerability and honesty, “people who love you.”

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, but she did not take them back. She went still, paralyzed with the realization of what she’d just confessed.

Fiearius blinked his eyes slowly and then — she couldn’t believe it — the smallest of teasing grins flickered past his mouth. “People?” he repeated suspiciously. “Who love me? You mean … Cyrus?”

“Right. Cyrus,” said Leta quietly. “That’s who I meant.”

Fiearius laughed, heavy and feeble, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Ooh, Leta. You poor thing.” He patted her back affectionately, then pulled her in so she leaned into the plane of his chest.

“It’s rather unfortunate,” she sighed. Then she glanced up at him. “Wait, hang on. You just — you’ve never used my name before.”

“What?” He tilted his head. “Sure I have.”

“No, you haven’t. You never call me by my name.”

“I must’ve.”

“No. It’s only ‘kiddo’ which I hate, or ‘doctor,’ which is weird now, but never my name.”

Fiearius considered this. “Well I guess I should amend that, huh, Leta?” he said, and then he leaned his head against hers. “Don’t you think, Leta?” he said softly in her ear. “I should use your name more often. Leta?”

“I don’t know,” she laughed, shrugging him off. “It’s a little odd to hear it now.”

Fiearius returned the laugh. “Is it, Leta?” Then, his expression shifted from amusement to something else — something closer to mischief.

“You sure about that, Leta?” he said more quietly, as he turned his head to the side, brushing his lips near her ear. “I can stop if you’d like, Leta,” he went on, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck, his voice muffled against her skin. “Leta?” he added once more, before his mouth slid to the hollow of her collarbone. The sensation brought a shiver to her flesh.

“I changed my mind,” said Leta decisively. “I’m fine with it. Call me whatever you want.”

She felt him grin against her collarbone before he slid his hands up her back, holding her against him as he kissed back up to her lips. Leta circled her arm around his shoulders and drew him to her lips for a long, slow kiss. His hand pressed to the small of her back and inch by inch, with each utterance of her name and each following kiss, he lowered her horizontal onto the bed.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So he asked her out, but the timing was just kind of sketchy so it didn’t happen,” Corra explained to Alyx. She was seated in the dining hall of the Beacon, which was growing all the more crowded with crew members from both her own ship and the Dionysian. A happy chatter filled the room, punctuated by the sounds of clinking dinnerware.

Corra, however, wasn’t eating. She was amusing herself by observing Cyrus, who was talking with Addy and Nikkolai across the room. It could not have been more obvious, with the way he was throwing her eager looks, that he wanted to be alone with her.

Alyx sat at Corra’s side, similarly entertained. “He could’ve asked her out earlier but I got in the way,” she sighed. “Now I feel terrible.”

“Oh, don’t, he probably wouldn’t have had the guts to ask her again anyhow,” Corra assured her, leaning back in her chair.

Across the dining hall, Nikkolai, apparently distracted by something Javier was doing, flitted away from the pair, leaving Cyrus and Addy alone. Corra was amazed.

“Oh come on, Cy-Cy. Just ask her if she wants to go somewhere else,” she whispered.

“Ask her out for dessert or drinks,” Alyx added.

“I was thinking ask her upstairs,” Corra laughed. And indeed, Cyrus was saying something, but before either one of them made any motion to change location, suddenly Addy was talking to Maya and again, all hope was lost. Slumping backwards, Corra shook her head. “I swear, he will never learn.”

“Pity, they could be cute together,” Alyx mused sadly before pushing herself up from the table and picking up her plate. “Anyway. I’ll be taking my dinner to go if that’s alright by you.”

“Aw, can’t stand to watch anymore?” Corra asked.

“Oh no, I could watch this all night. I just didn’t know my mother was invited.” She nodded towards the table where Quin sat in rather heated discussion with Fiearius, Dez and Leta. “Not really in the mood for a reunion, cap’n.”

“Understood,” said Corra. “Do what ya need, I’ll update you if anything interesting happens.”

Alyx chuckled and waved goodbye as she left Corra sitting all alone at the long table. Her attention shifted toward the unfolding argument on the other side of the room.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except this table. Quin, Fiearius, Leta and Dez were regarding each other angrily, clearly discussing the events of Blackwater.

“I don’t know what you’re so damn worried about, Soliveré,” Quin was saying, slouched confidently in her seat. “We won, didn’t we? And it was easy. You said it yourself, the people manning these things are just people. We did it twice, now, we can do it again.”

“They’re not going to let us do it again,” said Leta, her arms crossed and her expression steely. “Not after this one. There’s no way.”

“We’re going to have to,” said Dez. “We need to act again and act quickly if we want to make this worthwhile. To rally the people to–”

“Rally the people?” Fiearius interrupted, sounding incredulous. “You can’t be fucking serious.” His expression was dark; he looked ready to strike at any moment. But Corra noticed under the table that his hand was holding Leta’s knee.

“I am,” said Dez calmly. “If we want the people of Exymeron and the Society territories to side with us, we need to–”

“This is insane,” Fiearius growled. “You are insane.”

“Well what do you wanna do, eh?” asked Quin, pounding a fist on the table. “Go back to petty thievery?”

“Petty thievery? The only reason you’re even siding with this nonsense is because you want to steal more ships,” Fiearius pointed out.

“And the only reason you’re not is ‘cause you’re a coward,” challenged Quin. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Justice for your Council or whoever?”

Fiearius shook his head. “It’s not cowardice, it’s sense. Sure I’d love to see ‘justice,’ but what I want is different from what’s possible. I would much rather focus on keeping my ship flying and the people on it alive. And after that wonderful stunt back at Blackwater, even that’s gonna be difficult. But actually attacking them head on? With just the Dionysian and a single serving of Society fighters?” He shook his head. “It’s insane, it’s — “

“Real fun party, huh?” said Finn’s voice suddenly in her ear. Corra was glad for the distraction: Finn lowered to the seat beside her, shaking his head at the arguing table.

“If I’d known they’d be at this all night, I wouldn’t have invited them after all,” Corra sighed.

Finn did not look his usual light-hearted, humorous self. He paused and then said, “You heard what happened, right?” in a quiet voice.

“Of course.”

And, Corra thought, Fiearius was right. What they’d done to the Society base was a tremendous, bold, terrifying move. No doubt the Society would be tripling their efforts to take it down. Take her friends down. Suddenly she was hit by a stroke of guilt.

“D’ya think we need to help them?”

Finn swung his eyes back to her. “Eh?”

“I mean, if this really does blow up in their faces,” she went on. “If the Society really comes after them. Should we help? Should the Beacon help them?”

“We’ll help ‘em if they’re in need.”

She grew suddenly quiet. “And what if–what if they decide to fight back?” She nodded towards them. “Like they’re saying. If they really want to get justice or…something like that?”

“Well, that’s not really our fight, is it.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Isn’t it? They’re our friends.”

“Enemy of my friend isn’t necessarily my enemy,” Finn grunted. “I mean, what’s the Society done to you?”

“Well…nothing to me exactly,” she admitted. “But what they’ve done to Leta and Cyrus and Fiearius…”

“Right. So I’ll support ‘em in the best way I can.”

“But you don’t think we should help.”

“I think we have our own jobs to do.” He winced, but went on steadily, “Look, aligning against the Society will put limits on us. It’ll mean there are certain places we can’t go. Certain jobs we can’t take. And for that, we’d probably lose Callahan. And without Callahan, without steady income, we’d lose some of our people too.”

Corra sighed. “S’pose you’re right.”

“Plus we’ll be putting the crew in danger we could otherwise avoid. We’ve only just managed to get Beacon off the Society’s radar entirely. You really want to risk jumping back on it? Knowing what that might mean?”

“No,” Corra said firmly. “The last thing I want is to be hunted.”

“‘Sides, didn’t you say earlier you wanted to help allies? How are you gonna do that with the Society on your tail? Even if we don’t do it now, look at the long term. If they want to take on a lofty fight against injustice, more power to ‘em. But that’s their goal. We need to be thinking about ours.”

Corra looked down at her hand as her fingers tapped the table nervously. “You’re right,” she muttered. “We have a responsibility to this ship and this crew. We need to do what’s best for us, not the Dionysian.” She was sure she didn’t sound entirely convinced because she wasn’t entirely convinced, no matter how right the decision was. And it was clear to her why.

“But if it really comes to that. If they attack the Society and we refuse to help?” she said quietly, her eyes trailing over to Fiearius and Leta. “They’re not gonna be happy.”

Finn wrinkled his forehead, looking troubled. “No,” he agreed, “No, they won’t.”

Finn looked hesitant — he so rarely was hesitant, it made her nervous. “I guess I’m just wondering if it was as bad as I think it was.”

Corra opened her mouth, then closed it again. Despite the vagueness of the question, she knew precisely what he meant. It was something a lot of people wondered. Whether or not they had the guts to ask it was another question.

She traced the rim of her bottle and said at last, “There were some chores less bearable than others. Some days…that were hard to get through.” She took a deep, shaky breath before she added, “But on those days, I had my family. The other allies in the complex. We were there for each other, through everything. We supported each other no matter what.” She smiled. “So…yeah, it was bad. But no. Probably not as bad as you think.”

“So they’re still there, your family? On Kadolyne?”

“Some of them probably, but it’s hard to say,” she admitted. “Goddora’s business was trade, so most allies really didn’t stay on Kadolyne long. Just long enough to be trained and sold to the highest bidder. I can only assume his successor operates the same way.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back there?”

“I’d like to,” she said quietly. “I’d like to–I don’t know–help somehow. Get them out of there. Set them free.”

Finn’s hand stilled on her back. “Is that, ah, possible?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe? Hopefully? It’s difficult to imagine ever taking down an entire industry, but if I can just help in some way, even if it’s a small way? One day I’d at least like to try.” She sighed and slipped into thoughtful silence before adding quickly, “Not for a while though, of course. I mean, I don’t want to derail the Beacon or anything, I know the work we’re doing for Callahan, smuggling ships and all, is i–” She cut herself off suddenly and seemed to reconsider the statement.

“Important?” said Finn doubtfully.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Not the right word, is it? But hey, credits are important. Keeping our crew happy and fed, that’s important. Personal vendettas? Don’t tend to do that.”

“I don’t know, cap’n.” His voice warmed with sudden interest. “Freeing allies seems like a pretty worthwhile side-project to me.”

The way he spoke, it was as if they could turn the ship around and go set a whole colony of allies free within the day. Corra wasn’t sure whether to be startled, appreciative or annoyed at how easy he made it all sound, but she never got the chance to respond. Just then, the console across the room flashed with a new message.

Quickly swigging her beer, Corra set the bottle on the side table, gathered her sheet around her shoulders and slid her feet to the floor.

She took one look at the screen and felt surprise flash through her.

“What’s the Dionysian doing coming back here so early?”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Hours after Blackwater, hours after watching a Society dreadnought crash into the side of mountain, Cyrus was still in shock. He was convinced he was dreaming as the rest of the day had played out: the Dionysian was on course back to Relara while Fiearius paced around the bridge, shouting at Dez and Quin over the COMM; Leta, quietly stunned, trying to make sense of what would happen next. Cyrus half-expected a Society ship to shoot them out of the sky any second.

It was only when the Dionysian touched ground again that he snapped out of it and took his first real breath. Fiearius continued to shout and argue, but Cyrus had nothing to add to the conversation. Cyrus had no desire to add to the conversation. And when he overheard that the the Beacon was ashore too, he remembered the last conversation he’d had with Addy and suddenly Fiearius and the debate and the threat of the Society was wiped entirely from his mind.

‘So how about that dinner?’ he’d ask when he found her. Casual, that was the key, he told himself as he wandered through the halls of the Beacon, trying to act like he wasn’t simply looking for her. Casual. Totally casual. But when suddenly a voice rang out behind him calling his name, casual was probably the last trait he seemed to possess.

“Cyrus! What’re you doing here?”

He spun around and as soon as he registered the messy blonde hair, the thin black glasses on the top of her head and those piercingly kind blue eyes, he tried his best to pretend she hadn’t made him jump in surprise by leaning calmly against the wall. Instead, he accidentally rammed his arm into it.

If she was phased, she didn’t act it. “I thought the Dionysian was off on an exciting mission,” she went on curiously, smiling.

“It is,” he answered, refraining from rubbing his sore shoulder. “I mean, it was. We were. But it’s over now. So…we came back.”

“Oh! How’d it go?”

Ridiculously, was the first word that jumped into his head, but out of his mouth came a sort of indicative crazed laugh. A crazed laugh that, judging by Addy’s face, only served to confuse her. Hurriedly, he added, “Kind of a long story.” A long story I can tell you over dinner, he said in his head with a charming smile that never made it to his face.

‘So how about  that dinner?’ his brain reminded him. That was the line. Surely he could say that. It was easy. So how about that dinner.

“So how about that engine?” he asked and proceeded to internally kick himself.

Addy’s lips came together in confusion. “Oh, it’s fine? Everything’s running — “

But then Addy was cut off by another shout down the hallway. “Cyrus?”

Hesitant, Cyrus glanced back over his shoulder to see who could possibly be looking for him now. The lanky woman with strikingly bright blue hair he found there was not at all who he was expecting.

“…Alyx?”

“Oh God, Cy, it is you!” Suddenly, Alyx came forward, threw her arms around him and scooped him up in a hug that practically paralyzed him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same,” Cyrus muttered as she finally released him.

“Ooh, you two know each other?” asked Addy keenly.

“I did a bit of a stint on the Dionysian a while back,” Alyx told her with a wide grin. “And now I’m filling in as the Beacon’s navigator. Small Span after all, huh?” She took Cyrus by the shoulder and gave him a fond shake.

“Y-yeah,” Cyrus muttered. “Guess so.” He glanced at Addy and shrugged as though that meant anything. Usually, he would welcome the sight of an old friend. Particularly an old friend as good as Alyx. But he had been so very close to an evening out with Addy (well, another five to ten minutes of babbling close anyway), that he had to try very hard not to resent her for magically appearing out of nowhere to ruin his plans.

Unfortunately, the sentiment must have been apparent for, after a moment, Alyx’s enthusiasm lessened a bit.

“Anyway,” she said through a vaguely nervous laugh. “Didn’t mean to barge into your conversation. Sure you two have a lot of important…engineery things to talk about. But apparently Corra’s invited the crew of the Dionysian over for dinner. I was just heading down there now if you wanted to come with?”

Dinner with the Dionysian crew? So dinner with his angry brother that he had purposefully come to the Beacon to avoid? He could think of nothing he desired less. And yet —

“That sounds awesome!” said Addy, giving a little bounce on her feet. “Dinner with everybody? Like the whole crew? That’s great, I need to meet Eve — oh yeah, Leta lent a book to me a while ago, I’ve got to give it back — “

Internally, Cyrus sighed in defeat. But Addy must have noticed, because her expression faltered. “Oh — but — we were supposed to get dinner — er, weren’t we, Cy?”

So she’d actually remembered? He almost felt his heart flutter were it not for the painful catch 22. Dinner alone? What he wanted. Or dinner with literally everyone? What Addy wanted. Who was he, though, to deny her what she desired?

“Oh no, it’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ll probably be out of here soon, so if you want to see them, now might be your only chance.” He smiled, though inside he was cursing his own poor timing. “We’ll just get dinner — some other time.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –