a/n: So I realize the fandom for this series is ridiculously small, but I love it anyway. This is slightly AU, since we don't know what happens after they land. So, anyway...enjoy!


They're not as hostile as the probe reports led us to believe. It might be just another trick, one of the many fabrications we've uncovered onboard the Godspeed.

It's been two years - a whole 728 days - since the successful planet-landing. The Shippers, what remained of the original crew, proved skilled enough to get us safely onto Centauri-Earth's surface. Landing was a bit trickier, and I once tried to explain the idea of airplanes to Elder sometimes, how the descent was like turbulence, but that seemed like forever ago. I haven't spoken to him in a long time.

We've both changed. Changed a lot, in so little time, I think, tuning out the voices around me in the lab.

Centauri-Earth is like…well, it's enough like Earth, Sol-Earth, but I'm still not used to the differences. The colors seem more vibrant, more saturated than "back home", but maybe that's because Godspeed was so monochrome all the time, and I'm used to gray walls. It's also open. The sky, the ground – it seems so much larger than Earth.

Elder and the rest, those who were born on Godspeed - the alienation from cold, comforting metal was difficult for them.

Elder.

I think about him too often, nowadays. More than I used to, when we were actually together – even if it was mourning the death of friends, the death of innocence on Godspeed…innocence that I sometimes think might never have existed in the first place.

I do a lot of depressing, psychological thinking like that, now. After the last supplies of Phydus was destroyed, a lot of people didn't know what to do, how to act…their common sense and originality had been repressed for so long – it was only fair they were educated, were taught the importance of…everything. But it's something I believe in, something I can do with my time.

It's a difficult job sometimes, especially with our growing population. The women pregnant from Godspeed's previous (and last) Season have given birth, and there are residential, overcrowding problems. I don't have to babysit the children, thank the stars, but the personal well-being of everyone is something dear to my heart now. I tend to over work myself, yet not as much as I hear Elder does.

I look at him now, stare out the large window of my lab, and watch him down at the center of the sidewalk in front of the Council Building. He's standing in a group of people with his back to me. It looks like he's gesturing, pointing, giving orders.

I can't help but marvel at how much he's matured - so much, so much in just two years. He's a leader now, a real bona fide leader, not a teenage boy acting brave for a girl he admires. But I'm no longer a part of that scenario.

We've grown apart over the last year, mostly because of our schedules and responsibilities, It sounds ridiculous, considering everything we've been through together, how close we were, but that's just how it goes sometimes.

Still, I find I can't let go of him so easily. Some days, I let myself sit back, push away the floppies on my desk, turn off my wi-com, and just watch him.

It might make me a creep, but I don't care.

The environment of Centauri is harsh even in the best times, almost uninhabitable, and has done a lot of good for him, done a lot for all of us. We're all hardier somehow, stronger, more resistant. Maybe it's because of all that's happened, all that we've been through; maybe it's something in the air.

Yeah, Centauri has been kind to Elder, and I'm not the only one who notices. Plenty of women appreciate him, and not just because he's the city's leader. I try not to give any attention to the whispers and the giggles, and I certainly hold back any objections. It's not exactly normal to stake a claim to a person, anyway. I have no right to lay claim to a human being, especially if what we had is in the past, as much as I hate to admit it. No one has a real claim to anything, I've come to realize, and it's all a matter of choice.

Choice.

The inhabitants of Centauri-Earth had a choice. They could kill us, slaughter us all the second we stepped out of the escape shuttle, or let us live peacefully, maybe even welcome us. It was a surprise, leaving the shuttle and coming face-to-face with these strange people. They're humanoids, fortunately, and I don't know how everyone would have reacted if they were frightening, grotesque monsters – probably in a violent way.

Not that there wasn't fighting when we first arrived. The Centaurians remind me of Indians, in a childish sort of way. They're slightly taller than us, willowy; they've got elongated faces, petite features, and have a darker tinge to their complexions, not unlike the monoethnic Godspeed crew. Their technology isn't limited, but they chose to be more attuned to the nature on Centauri than base their culture on tech – much different from us, from humans.

Our leaders, Elder and what seems to be the "president" among the huge population of Centauri, met almost immediately after the planet-landing. It was a big step for Elder, probably nerve-racking, and I wish I could have been there for him. But there's no point in thinking like that.

We're friendly with the people now, other than a few of ours who think we need to take the planet over, and a few of theirs who want us gone.

We've even, as strange as it sounds, mixed with the population. It was a long, awkward process, months of research between our races, but we finally discovered that yes – it was possible for our people to "mingle". We worked hard to create a stable, peaceful relationship, and after months of violence, debates, and arguments over land, we're able to live happily, intermixed.

Well, for the most part, I guess.

There have been a few acts of vandalism, some hate crimes between us in the past few weeks, and I assume that's what Elder is speaking to the group about now. It's a mix of us and the Centaurians, all clustered around him, nodding and muttering to each other. They all look upset and distraught. As I watch the scene play out, a few of the Centaurians leave the group in a fuss.

Elder, in a familiar display of frustration, shoves his fingers through his hair, messing the dark locks and creating a halo of silly springs around his face that I want to run my hands through. I see why he's so popular, why he's constantly reelected as president of the settlement. I try not to let my eyes linger on the lines of his prominent shoulder blades or the dark, strong biceps that connect to them.

I thank the stars once again, this time for the skin-tight garments that most citizens wear nowadays. The pattern and Centari-solitary plants to make the special, almost indestructible material that were passed out as a gift from Centauri-Earth's inhabitants. It's all our weavers make now, from skirts to pants to the full-body suits that many researchers wear to protect themselves. The fabric helps the sometimes unpredictable temperatures of the planet seem less inhospitable, and has been a life saver to us all – not to mention a constant distraction for me.

Get a hold of yourself, Amy, my conscious snaps. I obey, as best I can, tearing my eyes from Elder and turning back to the crew of my station, and the current problem our psychology crew is discussing. Recently, adolescents from a nearby Centauri township have been causing trouble, promoting the construction of gangs between us.

Since it's the end of the work day, and soon Centauri-Earth's suns will be setting, I begin a quick, snipped speech on our next steps to prevent any further violence. However, I stop in the middle of my sentence suddenly, gears turning.

I need an excuse to talk to Elder after so long, so why not speak to him under the disguise of concern? Of course, I am concerned about the violence situation but...

I dismiss my crew with a wave, watching as they all head off in different directions, through various exists. I don't blame them for leaving so quickly – the day is late, and they want to get home to their families. I want to go home too, but I know my parents won't be in until much later, so there's no rush on my part.

As everyone packs up, I begin to run various conversations through my head, playing out the ways I could approach Elder.

"Sir, I needed to speak with you about some disciplinary problems involving-"

"Amy. It's been a long time. Would you like to go back to my quarters in the Officer's Wing and fu-"

"Yes."

Shit.

I need to stop this nonsense.

I wonder when these silly fantasies started, why I just can't frexing let go of him. Despite my confliction, I dare a peek over my shoulder, back out the large window. Elder still stands in the town's center; feet spaced apart with an air of confidence on the metallic ground, watching people pass by. Our settlement, not far from where we touched down two years ago, is populated with Centauri and human citizens alike. We worked hard to build this place, staring from the ground up. They walk past him, some not noticing who exactly he is, others stopping to wave or ask questions or just halt, starstruck.

The city, which the council dubbed Godspeed, is set up like a circle. Farms and smaller settlements surround the outskirts of the city. The conjoined Research and Education Centers twist around the city's inner frame, hugging the huge Business District, filled with stalls and family-owned businesses. The Residential District stretches along the outer ring, and the center of Godspeed is devoted to the Council, the cabinet of councilmen and women who take care of the city, led by Elder.

From my window on the first floor I can see the gardens devoted to Harley, the museum across the koi pond - I can even see the setting suns cast shadows across Elder's handsome face as he turns around and heads for the council building. Unsure and disheartened, I turn back to my station and begin shuffling papers, waving to some of the assistants as they stick around, loitering.

Amy, what the hell are you doing?

I've done this for two years, let myself slip away from him. I care for him still, deeply, but there are more important things we both need to focus on. There's too much responsibility weighted on our shoulders for us to be running around like willy-nilly teenagers.

Even still, I need to speak with him about the recent security issues, so I wi-com the Council Office to make an appointment for the next morning.