0127h
6 years, 2 days to UPP territory
They first fell asleep in the same bed after a brief, mad skirmish at a refueling station. They had had to rescue an overly-trusting Rosie from a slew of slave traders, and it had left them with a few minor injuries and some logistics to attend to. Sometimes, they forgot just how ingrained the various cultures were in their students, and despite the fact that their judgement was improving and maturing, they would sometimes still reflexively act on problems in the manner they were raised on. The two adults would have to incorporate that into their future training plans.
They had squirrelled up in Goddard's quarters after lights out, and discussed this amongst other things, while she nursed a sprained knee and he nursed a blooming facial bruise and a few broken fingers. Though it had made her somewhat uncomfortable at first, he had suggested that she stretch out on his bed in order to ice her injury, and after him refusing to give up fretting about it, she agreed.
When they had moved on to managing the Compost training schedule as her midterm week approached, he had joined her far on the opposite side of the bed, citing the need to rest his aching head. When she suggested they call it a night, he had refused, trying not to be the weak link that led to unfinished work. She let him have his pride and trudged forward, trying to ignore how they were both effectively stretched out in bed like an old married couple reading and relaxing before they both turned in for the night.
They were coming up to the penultimate topic of the evening when she caught him holding his bruised head, likely the source of his headache. His eyes were closed against the aching, but he was continuing to voice his opinion on the rest of their business.
She didn't know why his aching bothered her so, or why she felt compelled to fix it, but she shifted over to him, removing the cooling pack from her knee, moving his hand, and placing it on his face.
"You can continue," she insisted when he opened his eyes and stopped talking.
He held her gaze for a moment, and she saw something shift in them before he simply returned to his piece, allowing her to hold the frigid pack on the oddly-placed wound since his own ipsilateral hand was out of commission.
By the time they were on the last topic, his head had shifted to her lap to allow her a more comfortable positioning as she continued to nurse his wound.
"I don't love the idea of Harlan and Rosie venturing down to that moon for a few medicinal plants, but I see the merit," she yawned as she agreed to their final point.
"Rosie will keep him in line," he muttered sleepily into her thigh, "He hides it well, but he hates to disappoint the youngest crew members. I think he thinks himself a 'big brother' to them."
"Mature of him."
"Who'd have thought?"
She hummed in agreement. "Is that the end of our business?"
His eyes opened and looked up at her. "Yes. I should let you get back to your room. It's late enough. Sorry about taking over your personal space like this." He sat up, groaning, head heavy.
She missed the sudden loss of his warmth and weight. It had lulled her into a sense of peace and security she hadn't realized until it was suddenly taken away.
She wanted it back.
"Well, I don't know if it's the best idea to leave you alone overnight with a head injury," she grasped at straws.
"Rosie scanned me over," he replied, "I should be fine."
"Perhaps, but you have a headache now. It makes me uneasy."
He cocked his aching head at her. "You want me to get Rosie to look me over again?"
"I—no. I could just keep an eye on you for the evening."
He regarded her closely, but had no energy to question her suggestion. Besides, if he was honest, he missed the soft warmth of her thighs, her belly.
"Have it your way," he shrugged, returning to his previous position, "If you get uncomfortable, feel free to return to your quarters whenever you please. Don't stay on account of me."
"If I want to, I'll leave."
They fell asleep, and she never left after that night.
2347h
5 years, 10 months, 10 days to UPP territory
They had finished a long shower together, and he spent a moment perched on the edge of the bed, watching her meticulously towel off and shrug on her nightclothes.
"Father told me he used to catch you giving that same thirsty look to pretty cadets at the Starcademy," she said nonchalantly as she moved on to brushing her towel-dried hair.
"I was a horny teenager," he shrugged.
"Only grayer now, it would seem," she quipped.
"Comes with experience. I haven't heard any complaints from you."
She regarded him with a sultry look in the mirror. "You won't get them."
Perhaps it was the talk of his old mentor, but he suddenly felt guilty when a wave of arousal hit him.
"Your father would probably kill me."
"For?"
"Not too many fathers like men to do to their daughters what I just did to you in the shower."
"I can't say he'd want to know the details, no," she put her brush down and snapped off the bathroom light, "But I've always had him wrapped around my finger, so to speak, and I'm sure he'd be less prone to murder you if he knew I instigated it."
"He'd probably think I've corrupted you."
"That you have," she placed a kiss on his forehead before crossing over to the other side of the bed and climbing in, "But he likes you, so that would shield you from some of the judgement. It's my mother you'd have to worry about."
"Yeah?" he asked, climbing into his own side.
"She wouldn't take kind to my dalliance with such a ruffian."
"Should I care about her opinion?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Glad to hear it. I'll just worry about his, then."
"I might put in a good word for you," she smiled.
"Kind of you."
"You owe me."
"I'll make it up to you."
She leaned in and kissed his neck. "Well, now, if you did that, you'd just have something else to explain to him. We'd just continue this mad circle of pleasure."
"Damn."
"Somehow, we'll both deal with the burden."
0015h
5 years, 3 months, 27 days to UPP territory
His tossing woke her. Through the dim light of the safety strips on the ceiling she could see he was breaking into a cold sweat. She recognized it as the trappings of one of his infrequent nightmares, likely stemming from the mild PTSD the recent war had left many of its soldiers with. She slipped from bed, gathering a damp hand towel and a glass of water before returning bedside to gently shake him out of his restless sleep.
He startled awake, breathing heavy, heart racing. It took him a moment to focus on her standing above him, but when he registered, he heaved a deep breath and coughed against his dry throat.
"Was I tossing?"
"Yes," she said, handing him the water.
"Talking?"
"Not this time," she replied, sitting on the bed as he furiously gulped down his beverage.
"Did I wake you?"
"Yes," she replied, palming the wet towel and using it to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"I'm sorry," he sighed.
"Don't apologize."
He let her tend to him as he focused on slowing down the adrenaline rushing through his veins, causing the blood to pound in his ears.
"Wartime memories, I take it," she said, brushing some dampened hair off his face.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
She didn't push the matter. "What would help?"
He could still feel his pulse racing, but the room was beginning to feel less suffocating. "Another glass of water. Your company."
She nodded, procured a second serving, then tucked him back into bed before pressing in close.
"Too close?" she asked.
"Not enough."
She pressed her body flush against his and wrapped a leg around his own. Her free hand rubbed light circles on his arm.
"Better or worse?"
"Better," he sighed, finally starting to catch his breath.
"Good," she said, closing her own eyes and relaxing against him in the closest approximation to falling asleep she could muster. She wanted to make sure he returned to a comfortable sleep, but also knew that watching her have to fight her own desire for rest to babysit him would only increase his anxiety. "Relax and rest, Seth. You're safe. This will pass."
She felt his muscles slowly release beneath her points of contact. She paced his breathing, and though it took him the better part of an hour to drop off into the slow respirations of sleep, she took solace when he finally reached it.
How horrible, she thought, that this lovely, wonderful man of hers had to carry such ghosts. She would continue to try to help him, and adjust accordingly. She vowed that as long as he'd have her, she'd not leave him to his midnight demons alone again.
0118h
4 years, 11 months, 19 days to UPP territory
He was slow and methodical with her tonight, taking his time, purposeful as he tried to find the exact spot that would drive her over the edge.
Her head was thrown back on the pillows, allowing him access to worry her pulse with his tongue while he switched the angle of his hips ever so slightly and drove into her again.
She felt like a queen when he made love to her this way. When it was for the two of them, it was faster, harder, feverish and chaotic, a mad race to see who could coax a climax out of the other first. But like this, she knew it was for her, laced with touches meant for her pleasure only, intricate foreplay, and peppered with soft romantic sighs against her skin rather than the crasser, dirtier talk of their more fever-pitched sessions.
He was far from the only man she had ever been with, but the first she could remember truly feeling she could never be close enough to. Despite the fact that he had her heart close to bursting, she still hungered for more. She found the state both terrifying and gratifying, and thanked the cosmos for the opportunity to explore the feeling by whimpering little breathless prayers of his name into the darkened room.
Her prayers were rewarded with thrusts that were deeper, though still properly planned.
Little gasps escaped her as she felt him getting closer to what he was looking for. She fully moaned and spasmed when he finally hit his mark.
He gave a little chuckle against her skin at her reaction. "I'll take it I hit paydirt."
"Jokes are not what I'm after at the moment," she panted.
He pulled back before pushing in over the same spot, dragging a strangled cry from her.
"That closer to what you were going for?"
Impatient with his teasing, she engineered the next tide herself.
"I'll take that as a yes," he remarked, taking over the duty of driving the session from her again.
He listened for her commands—speed up, slow down, no, yes, god yes—and obeyed them utterly.
She could never have enough of him. But damn it, did he try to give his all.
He pushed against her, again, again, again, and she fought to control herself, to make it last as long as possible, but then he had to go and do something stupid like groan a husky "I love you" into her ear and tip her into a crushing orgasm, ending the sweet build up. She could at least take a little satisfaction in the fact that when she was finally pushed into the chasm, she took him with her, effectively ending his foray as well.
Her body felt like a fluid once she had come down off the high, and she could find little strength to do much more than lie there on her back, trying to consume air. He rolled into a sitting position, breath still ragged, but managed to set about sorting out the mess they had ended up with. Once he had finished with the last of the logistics—repairing the tangled sheets and retrieving his discarded pillow, he returned to his position at her side. He took her up in his arms, spooning along her worn-out body. He made no quips to ruin the calm silence of the afterglow, only kissed her neck and held her gently while their breaths evened out and sleep overtook them.
0032h
4 years, 9 months, 16 days to UPP territory
Who was more pissed off at whom, neither knew nor cared.
They were positively bellowing at one another now, deep in the throes of a heated argument over a disagreement of a command decision. He had tried to pull rank, and that sent her into full-blown yelling. When she lost control and reminded him that he was no ship's captain, he lost his temper and began to yell back.
Now on a roll neither wanted to start, neither could put the brakes on, both stubborn to a fault. A disagreement was quickly devolving into malicious digs at one another, each trying desperately to hurt the other.
Disgraced officer.
Stuffy, unemployed teacher.
Reckless, talentless.
Helpless, frigid.
Incorrigible. Foolish. Hopeless.
A mistake.
She stiffened, the next insult knocked from her lungs by the crushing blow to her heart. She turned quickly, grabbed her robe off the back of his desk chair and her pillow from the bed, and stormed toward the door.
"Where are you going?" he asked to her retreating back.
"My quarters," she snapped, "Where I belong."
When she was gone, he huffed. If she wanted to storm off, it was no issue of his. Let her.
An hour later, he was wide awake. Now that he had cooled down, the creeping feeling that he had made a fatal error was looming over him. Paired with the now sinking realization that the other side of his bed was cold and vacated for the first time in over a year, that feeling became a full panic when he realized he had fucked up.
Nauseous, he sat up, thoughts racing as he scrambled for a way to fix what had happened. He had been so caught up in trying to WIN the argument, he was oblivious to what the consequence of such a victory might entail. He had not just been mean, he had been ruthless.
Oh fucking Space above he had fucked up. More than Reaver, more than letting the crew out of his sight that fateful day almost 3 years back, he had royally, totally, completely fucked up. Reaver cost him his rank, their trip might cost him his career, but his stupid, stupid mouth and need to upend her in an argument was going to cost him her, and somehow, it hurt worse than the other two combined. It made him want to vomit.
He paced his cabin, chest hurting as he failed to come up with a way to make up for what he had said. He was finally bursting with so much nervous energy that he did the only thing he could think of and made his way to her quarters.
When he keyed in her code and he was safely in her darkened room, he suddenly realized that he not only lacked a plan, he had no explanation for her why he had broken into her quarters empty-handed. He hadn't been confronted yet, and he considered backing out and returning to his room, when he noticed her curled on her side, asleep.
They had effectively ended and she was ASLEEP? Anger flooded back to him and he was about to storm back to his quarters when his eyes fully adjusted to the room and he picked up minor details. Her robe thrown unceremoniously on the floor. The wadded up tissues strewn about the bed. Her streaked eye makeup.
Fuck him, she had cried herself to sleep.
He felt like he might die under the weight of his guilt.
He approached her, noticing with a pang that she had reflexively sequestered herself on "her side" of the bed. He knelt next to the bed, trying and failing again with ideas on how to proceed.
He had done something minute to alert her to his presence, because once he snapped out of his inner turmoil by her sniffle, he noticed she was looking at him.
Neither said a thing, and just stared into the eyes of the other.
Maybe she would never forgive him, and maybe he had blown his chance with his cutting words, but she had to know he was sorry.
He couldn't hold her watery gaze. He ducked his head in mea culpa and croaked out an apology.
"T.J.. I'm sorry. I was angry, and I know that's no excuse for what I said, but I wanted you to know that I didn't mean a word of it. I don't know why I let myself lose control like that—I haven't had a poor judgement call like that since Reaver. I was just throwing out anything that would stick and didn't bother to think of what I was saying or how it might make you feel. And I know it was particularly nasty, and I know it's a huge betrayal of your trust, and I know it's unforgiveable." He barked a harsh laugh, "You were right. I am reckless, hopeless, a damn fool…"
"Stop," she cut him off, placing a hand on his bowed head. He looked up at her.
"I think there's been enough baseless rambling for the night," she whispered.
"I'll just leave it at I'm sorry, then," he swallowed.
She sniffled again, and wiped at her teary eyes. "I know."
He was trying to will his body not to shake. "I never thought this was a mistake," he muttered sorrowfully, "Not for a moment."
She sat up and grabbed a fresh tissue from her bedside box, blowing her nose daintily into it.
He was out of steam. He had nothing to say further that wouldn't sound like the ramblings of a madman. He stood up whispered another apology before turning back for the door.
Her hand caught his pants. "Don't."
He froze, then turned to look back at her. She was now wiping away the smeared makeup with a sleeve of one arm and clinging furiously to a handful of his pajamas in the hand of the other.
"I am also sorry," she sniffled, "I was way out of line."
"It's okay," he said softly.
She shook her head furiously. "No, it isn't. You may have made the killing blow, but I still cut you deeply. It's not what I'm supposed to do to someone I love. I am deeply sorry for hurting you."
He wanted to argue that what she said paled in comparison to what he did, but he owed her better than an argument. It was time to let her win and be absolved of this bad night.
"Thank you. I forgive you."
Her tense face relaxed a bit and she released his pants and offered him a small smile. He could at least take stock in the fact that he had erased her guilt.
He offered her another apologetic, sad smile, then turned and left abruptly before he could make a mistake and leave her in distress again.
He sat heavily on his bed, still feeling sick, skin crawling. But she seemed even that less burdened, and that had to be enough.
His door slid open, and he looked up to see her.
He burst into previously restrained tears when he saw her there, robe and pillow in hand.
"Mind if I come back?" she asked, timid.
He answered by crossing the room and enveloping her in a crushing hug.
"Joint decision to forget tonight ever happened?"
"Agreed," he rasped, voice clogged with tears.
They stood and held one another tightly, then returned to their bed.
0101h
4 years, 2 months, 14 days to UPP territory
Word had clearly gotten back to the crew's families that they had finally managed to take the remaining parts of the long-distance communicator, combine it with found parts at several trading posts, and pair it with the Christa's own communications system.
The students had been enjoying it, all able to make contact with their parents back home in the days since its installment.
Of course, calls worked both ways, and now that the frequency was out, they could be sought out.
She was in front of the small communications monitor now, talking to her mother, who, if she knew the local time on the ship, didn't seem to care. He was already curled in bed, trying to sleep as the conversation carried on.
"You look horribly tired, Theresa," her mother said, "What ARE you doing out there?"
"Staying awake during lights out, apparently," she sighed, annoyed.
"If you had listened to me you'd be here on Mars, well-rested and looking well. This trip has aged you."
"Time HAS passed," she said through gritted teeth.
"Even so, I can't say I didn't tell you so. I wanted you to stay here. Study at my alma mater. Learn to appreciate and participate in your grandfather's business. Marry well. You almost had Peter Stanton."
She rolled her eyes. "A loss from which I might never recover," she said sarcastically.
"Need I remind you you'll be over 40 by the time you return? I'll have to do some serious heavy lifting if you don't want to die a spinster. And even if you do, I won't allow it. You may have rebelled against me thanks to your father's help, but I'll get an heir I can groom properly to the family name out of you yet. You stress a mother out, Theresa."
She tried to change the topic. "IS Father around?"
"No," her mother replied, "He's off visiting his brothers for a get-together. Honestly, what is a well-educated man like him doing FISHING?"
"Pardon him for having fun," she muttered.
"Fun like dabbling with flunking students who get you lost in space?" her mother countered.
"Enough. What's done is done," she snapped.
"Quite. And now that the Principal at Starcademy has ended your misguided foray into teaching, we can move on."
"You're happy I was fired!" she accused.
"I wish it hadn't come to such a disgraceful end, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy you were back on track."
"Mother, I loved that job."
"You've had plenty of years to explore loves, Theresa. When you return, I hope you'll be ready to attend to duties."
"I won't give up on teaching," she said resolutely.
"Seems it's given up on you," her mother said snidely.
He had had enough. Throwing back the covers, he stomped to the monitor.
She startled when he appeared next to her clad only in this pajama pants.
"Pardon, I didn't mean to wake you…" she muttered to him.
"Good heavens, Theresa, is that Goddard? Why is he in your room, and why is he only partially dressed? Answer me!"
Goddard leaned into the camera, overtaking her in its field. "She's in my room, actually."
"Theresa James! Explain NOW!"
"Oh hell, looks like a bad connection," he sneered, slamming a palm on the button that ended the call.
"Seth! What did you do?"
"Hung up on the old bitch."
"For pity's sake…"
He climbed back into bed and threw the covers back over himself, turning on his side.
"No one talks to my woman like that. Not even her. I'll hang up on her again and do it with glee."
She sighed. "There's no point in fighting her, believe me."
He sat up abruptly. "That doesn't give her carte blanche to talk to you like that!"
She smiled at him. "I scarcely listen to much of what she says anymore. Do yourself a favor and don't let her get to you. She secretly feeds off it like the emotional vampire she is."
"How the hell did your Father end up with her?"
"Love is blind," she sighed, "And apparently deaf."
"Gonna be hard to put up with that for the rest of my life," he muttered, lying back down.
"What did you say?" she blinked at him.
"Your mother. I'm already sick of her."
"No, no. The other part."
"What part?"
"The 'rest of your life' bit."
"Valid point," he said, closing his eyes, "I intend to outlive her. Fine. Rest of HER life."
She could tell by the stiffness in his shoulders that he recognized his faux pas and was trying to compensate with humor. He was sensitive to what the return home might mean for him, and so, often tried to avoid talk of more permanent things like a marriage that might mean her dealing with the fallout of whatever his final punishment was. It was complicated and painful for him, so she didn't push it further.
Besides, he had all but said he intended to go the distance with her. No sense in taking him to task now, especially after he rescued her from her Mother.
"Thank you for standing up for me," she said, turning out the lights and climbing into bed with him.
"Any time."
She curled up next to him and closed her eyes.
His voice came from the dark next to her. "I'm better looking than whoever the hell Peter Stanton is, right?"
She smiled at him, then turned away.
"Well?"
She didn't reply.
"How great could a guy named fucking 'Peter' be?"
She burst into laughter, turning to capture him in her arms.
0156h
3 years, 11 months, 1 day to UPP territory
The anxiety was keeping her up.
She thought back to how they had all lost track of one another for a half hour span that seemed like 4 days in the wake of a terrorist bomb explosion at their latest stop. They had found each other, none worse for the wear save for poor Mr. Radu, whose ears were still ringing. But her mind was preoccupied with what MIGHT have been.
She sat at his desk chair in the dark, quietly picking at the blanket covering her shoulders, trying not to make noise as she fidgeted in her seat.
No dice. He stirred.
"You're up?" he asked, groggy.
"I couldn't sleep," she explained, "I didn't realize I was being loud enough to wake you—I'll go to the team room."
"Won't help," he replied, voice thick, "It was your absence I noticed."
She blushed.
He sat up and waved her over, wrapping his arms around her when she sat on the bed next to her.
"Anything going on?"
She sighed. "I thought I had gotten better at this; I was hopeful that my anxiety about these more dangerous situations had subsided. It would seem I was wrong."
"If anyone DIDN'T feel anxious after today, I would be a little disturbed."
"Everyone ELSE is sleeping."
"You're doing fine, T.J.," he reassured, resting his chin on her head.
She sighed, unconvinced. There was a couple of breaths of silence, then:
"I fear I've gotten too attached."
"To?"
"Everyone," she whispered, "I don't know what I was thinking, getting this close to the students."
"I think that our unusual bond is the reason we've had a chance at all," he replied, "It complicates things, sure. But it makes the trials worth it."
"I suppose," she sighed, "But I'd never have imagined I'd have been fretting like this. They all came back all right."
He chuckled. "You're a mother hen to 5 children. Rough job."
"Four more than I ever allotted for," she muttered wryly.
He pulled away from her slightly. "Wait, I never knew you wanted kids."
She blushed again. "WANT is strong; not always want. But I always left the possibility on the table so it didn't interfere with all of my other carefully laid life plans."
"So an always plan and a sometimes want?"
"I suppose," she grumbled, shifting uncomfortably, "When I wasn't single, anyway. Or trying to get promoted. Wouldn't even entertain the thought."
He grinned wickedly. "So tell me…"
"Seth, no."
"…You ever imagined having kids with me?"
"You would ask, you egomaniac," she hid her face in his chest.
"You can't pique my interest like that," he shrugged, "This is something I completely didn't expect from you. So…you and I—plan or want?"
"First one, than the other," she muttered, embarrassed.
"In what order?"
"Enough questions," she commanded, "It's late and I want to sleep."
"Got your mind off your anxiety, though, didn't I?"
She was annoyed to see he was right. "Well, I suppose I'll die of embarrassment instead of anxiety tonight," she said wryly.
"Nothing to be embarrassed about," he chuckled, pulling her with him to lie on the pillows, "I'd want to have babies with me too."
She rolled her eyes. "Color me absolutely not shocked."
He laughed, and he held her in a neutral silence for a few minutes. She had been thoroughly embarrassed, sure, but the rush of energy was fading, and his deep breaths were soothing, and she found it was lulling her to sleep.
She felt his question reverberate in his chest as well as she heard it.
"Boy or a girl?"
"Pardon?"
"This imagined kid of yours—ours, I guess. Boy or girl?"
She bit her lip. She was tired of the questioning, but he obviously wasn't letting up for whatever reason, and the question was innocuous enough.
"Subject to my mood."
He hummed in response. "Looks like me or you?"
"Ego."
"So me," he chuckled, "Smart kid, I take it?"
"I imagined balancing out your genetic influence, yes," she said dryly.
"They'd be mischievous like dear ol' Dad, though, yeah?"
"Absolutely no one would fantasize about having a child as tiring as you probably were."
He looked at her, pulling a shocked look. "I'll have you know I was a model child. A saint."
"I'm sure."
"I am my mother's favorite."
"I suppose being the baby of the family doesn't have anything to do with it."
"It doesn't hurt," he shrugged, "But trust me—my mom loved raising me."
"I feel for the woman."
"Harsh, T.J.."
Silence reigned again for a few more breaths, and when he spoke again, it was considerably softer.
"Happy?"
"Happy what?"
"Baby Goddard. They were happy with me—us?"
She chanced a glimpse at his face. His eyes had a touch of melancholy in them, but the set of his jaw said that whatever had encouraged the question, he would be hesitant to talk about it.
"Of course. I'm a practical woman—I'd not even entertain a thought of any of this if I thought we'd make someone else miserable."
He only nodded.
There was a story there, and she realized that she had never really pressed him on his own family growing up. She knew he had 3 older sisters, scattered throughout the sol system, knew he had two living parents, and that his mother apparently favored him. She had never found a reason to ask anything further and he had never freely talked about his childhood. Another night, perhaps—the look on his face told her that she'd get no answers tonight.
She took a guess at it, hoping to extract information to allow her to breech the topic properly later.
"I know they're hardly equivalent," she feigned nonchalance, "But you've proven a pretty good parent-substitute to the crew. I would imagine you'd be equally effective as an actual father."
His face changed ever so slightly, but she could tell she had hit something, and she suspected she had an inkling.
"As such, I always envisioned you as an involved, loving, if somewhat overly permissive parent. And I suppose that's enough to keep the possibility on the table."
The melancholy drifted through his eyes again. Something told her that involved, loving and permissive were qualities he hadn't received from someone his youth. She filed it away.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he replied.
"Of course."
"No mischievous kiddo, no deal, though," he said, blinking the melancholy away and returning to the present.
"Well, that's that," she shrugged, curling into him.
"Admit you'd want a mini-me."
"Goodnight, Seth."
"Tell me you wouldn't be ecstatic. Your life would be so full and interesting."
"No. Goodnight."
"Your mouth says 'no,' but your mind is secretly into it."
"It recoils in fear."
"Fear of loving life too much. You, me, and my partner in crime."
"Perhaps I'll dream sweet dreams of the single life tonight instead."
"You wound me," he laughed, "Remind me to send my heir and protégé after you to avenge my feelings."
"GOODNIGHT."
2311h
3 years, 4 months, 22 days to UPP territory
She opened her eyes to a darkened room of lit candles.
"What's all this about?" she asked.
"An anniversary, of sorts," he replied, taking her hands and tugging her into the center of the room, the only space not occupied by one of the hundred or so tea lights, "The official anniversary of our relationship starting is…fluid, I suppose. I couldn't tell you what the actual start date might be."
She gave him a look. "Don't suppose that's because someone kept dancing around the point?"
"I think we're equally guilty," he grinned at her, "So with that in mind, I picked another date that is arguably close—it's been 4 years out here; that day we left was a new starting point for me, and one that inevitably brought me to you. In a way, for all its trouble, it's a day worth celebrating."
"An interesting perspective I might not have agreed with long ago," she replied.
"And now?"
"Are you asking if I'd board the ship again?"
"I suppose so."
She thought a moment. "I left a life of stability and security back in the sol system," she mused, "And despite all the advances I've made, I would be lying if I said that I didn't sometimes crave that." She reached for him, putting her arms around his neck. "But an army of Spung warriors couldn't stop me from getting aboard if I knew this would be at the end of it."
He grin was electrifying, and it warmed her heart. He wrapped his own arms around her waist and the two swayed their way into some amalgamation of a slow dance, badly paced with no music to follow.
"I was lost, when we left," he confessed.
"I know," she replied, "Father would say as much when I would complain to him about you. He told me to go easy on you, and that you'd come around."
"When were you planning on starting to go easy on me?" he laughed.
"I'm not. Seems you've come around anyway—why change a plan if it works?"
"Touché," he nodded in acknowledgement, "Thanks for giving me a second chance, regardless of how you gave it to me."
"Likewise," she said, teasing the hair at the nape of his neck, "I look back at the person I was at the start of this, and I can't say with all certainty that I'm proud of her. I appreciate your patience as I came around to a happy medium."
"Paid off for me in the end."
They swayed in silence a bit, getting lost in each other's eyes for a brief moment before she spoke again.
"I know that this day doesn't actually have any significance to you and me in a romantic sense, but since it's the only solid date we have, promise me you'll keep it, even after we return."
"Of course."
"I mean it," she insisted, "Official anniversary or not, it would kill me not to celebrate it with you, even many years from now. I want things to stay the way they are between us, even once this journey is done."
He shook his head. "I don't."
She stopped moving with him.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm an awful, greedy man with a bit of an ego complex," he replied, "I don't want to be this nebulous thing anymore. I want a date."
"I don't follow."
"Marry me."
Her eyes widened. "What are you saying?"
"Marry me. It's plain basic. You have a better grasp on it than I."
"Yes, but WHY are you saying it? We've discussed this and I understand why you haven't gone there before."
"And I weighed that carefully before deciding on this. And I'm freely admitting that I'm being 100% selfish. I don't want to take the risk of losing you to the tidal wave of whatever awaits us back home. I can survive anything else on the other end, but not that. So yes, it's because I'm scared and weak and insecure. I admit all of that. I need you, sure, but more so I WANT you, and if it makes me a self-absorbed prick, I accept that. I'm not capable of thinking clearly when it comes to this problem, so I'm leaving it in your hands—you were always better at considering outcomes anyway."
She disentangled herself from him.
"There's zero certainty of what awaits us back there," she thought aloud.
"None."
"You're asking a lot of an anxious person like me, to throw caution to the wind like this."
"I know. And the last thing I'd ever want to do is see you unhappy. But I'm starting to suffocate not having a solid vision of where this is going, and I need to breathe again, one way or another."
"So either answer works?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Yes and no. I've made it clear what I want, but I understand this is a two person commitment. You can agree, you can think on it, you can say 'no.' My foremost intent these days is to see you happy. My second most is to make sure I never spend a night without you."
"You'll never know how important to me it is to have you think of me in every respect. I've lived a lifetime with many who would not care so much to do so."
"I'll think of you in every respect for the rest of my life if you wish it. Marry me."
She pursed her lips.
"Please."
Her fingers wandered to her zipper, and she removed her uniform jacket, tossing it onto the bed. She caught his eyes as she extended a hand to him.
"It's late. Come to bed, Husband."