T.J. stood in her robe and nightclothes, watching Commander Goddard pack away the last of his supplies in the knapsack he needed before setting out on his expedition for a power crystal. He caught the occasional glimpse of her face, tight, lips pursed, gears turning behind her eyes. He figured what it all might be about; she had hemmed and hawed the better part of the evening last night about whether it was necessary to go alone, safe, if he had the supplies, if the vines would be a problem, if the temperature was good, on and on. He had spent the better part of two hours talking her down as he sorted through the maps shoddily constructed from short-range sensors. He had only managed to defuse her when he turned to her and asked precisely WHY she was fretting so much. She had huffed, said that SOMEONE had to be the voice of reason and fret, and goodness, and surely there was a better plan, and what if he got lost, hmmmm? The lilt in her voice led him to joke about her secretly being obsessed with him and not wanting to spend a night without him.
Her talking had dried up then.
Perhaps he had gone too far, but if she was here to see him off before dawn, surely she hadn't been too mad.
"You have the maps?" she asked.
"Yes," he tapped the compupad fastened to a belt at his waist.
"Food supplies? Water?"
"Mobile rations; barely edible, but neither is food wheel surprise."
"Medical supplies?"
"Gathered them last night."
She pulled a small bag from the pocket of her robe. "And did you mean to take them with you?"
He gaped at her as he took the med kit bundle from her. "Where'd this come from?"
"The medbay. When I didn't see it with your supplies, I checked to see if you had gotten forgetful and left them there. Lo and behold."
He gave her a look. "Were you going through my bags this morning before I woke up?"
She squirmed a bit, face expressionless. "Someone had to do a thorough check."
He sighed. "Everything will be fine, T.J.. This is hardly my first solo scouting mission. I need the rest of the crew here helping with repairs, and sending more than one person out slows us down on that project. I'm not so stupid as to send the kids out alone, so I'm the logical choice. Seriously, there and back. Two weeks tops."
She frowned, but said nothing.
He smiled slyly at her. "If it helps any, I got you something."
Her eyebrows rose. "Do I dare ask?"
He reached out, took her hand, and pressed a small mechanical device in it.
"Two-way communicator. Has enough distance coverage, I think, to keep me in contact. That way, you can still nag me to death from miles away."
She turned the device over in her hands, studying it, trying to ignore his lighthearted jab at her "nagging" him. It stung, but she was grateful for the tool; it would assuage her fears and anxieties while he was gone, so she figured it best not to start anything at the outset that would discourage him from using it and checking in.
"Good. I will."
He smiled warmly at her, before hefting the pack onto his shoulders. He touched her own shoulder gently, teasing her as he said, "Be back after work, Honey."
She fought the blush, instead making a show of rolling her eyes and huffing about how stupid he was. He laughed, waved, and disappeared into the dawn light.
She sat in her quarters at 2100 hours, staring intently at the device, willing his voice to come in through the tiny speaker. She had thought to contact him first, ask if he had set up camp for the night, but she'd be damned if she opened the line of communication—she wasn't a nag, damn him.
And so, instead, too proud to play into his teasing, she sat at her desk, leg twitching nervously while she stared.
"T.J.? You around?" his voice came.
She hastily grabbed the device, and stopped herself from pushing the 'talk' button right away. Seeming too eager would give him the impression she was like a girl of times past, sitting by an old Earther phone, waiting for her crush to call.
He didn't need to know she had been keeping vigil with the thing for an hour.
She inhaled, exhaled, waited 20 seconds, then answered. "Commander. Safe, I presume?"
"I am. Settled in for the night. Made good progress today, considering the heat. How are repairs coming?"
"Steadily. Nothing of note to report."
"Good. No news is good news."
She agreed.
"You know," he said, "I'm glad you inspired me to find these in the supply room. Got a little lonely having nothing but killer vines to talk to. Been a bit spoiled having access to sentient beings 24 hours a day."
"Are you saying you enjoy talking to me?" she asked, only half teasing.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
She felt her whole body burn red. For all their bickering, he liked talking to her! She enjoyed the feeling of being wanted for a second, then brushed it away, justifying that of course he did, she was intelligent and witty. She felt safe behind the reflex.
"Why indeed?"
He laughed. "Don't lie—you enjoy the sound of my voice more than you let on."
Somehow, her body got even warmer. "I tolerate it," she said, cool tone to hide the hot flushing.
"You're a woman of words, T.J., and we've never had a boring conversation. Admit it—you love it when we chat."
"Hard to be boring when I'm arguing with your stupidity," she huffed. She was grasping, grasping, trying to keep her head above water, trying not to let him hear any trace of her actual opinion on their talks in her voice.
He laughed again. "I make your life worth living, then."
She could imagine him winking at her as he said this. Her body screamed. He couldn't say this to her. She had no contingency plan. She sputtered for a moment, asking only with the intention of embarrassing him into stopping.
"Seth Goddard, decent people would think you were flirting with me."
She could HEAR his grin over the piece. "How astute of decent people. Signing off; goodnight, T.J."
She blinked several times at her device, a little breathless. She meant to press the conversation further, ask why he felt the need to tease her, but she didn't know if her already racing heart could handle much more.
She let the topic drop. Things would go back to being normal tomorrow.
It had rained all day the next day, and given the ankle-deep puddles surrounding the crash site, she could only imagine what a time Seth had had during his travels.
"Barely got half the distance I did yesterday," he muttered, exasperated, when he contacted her that evening, "This tent is good at keeping the moisture out, but the humidity is staggering. I was hoping to be a little drier considering that I was in wet clothes all day."
"Horribly uncomfortable, I'd imagine."
"To say the least. Goddards come from cooler weather; I'm out of my element."
"Father said you hailed from Canada," she mentioned, not sure why.
"Yes. If I were in 20 feet of snow, this would be more manageable," he chuckled, "And we never got this volume of rain."
"Considering I come from Mars colony and everything is artificial biodome, we don't even get weather."
"That must be weird," he mused, "No snow? Hail? Rain? You missed a fun time playing in all that as a kid."
She huffed. "Considering I've experienced all in my adult years from my numerous trips to Earth, I can't imagine I'd have all that much fun in the elements."
"No sledding?"
"You can break arms."
"No playing in puddles?"
"Good heavens, no. Dirt. Probably parasites."
"No braving a dangerous wind storm?"
"Flying projectiles are a thing, Seth!"
He laughed heartily. "Perhaps once you settle down when we return, it's best you raise a family on Mars. I would imagine you warring constantly with weather-loving kids in an Earther city; you have no idea how amusing it is to someone under 10. Still, I'd imagine any kids of yours might be too practical for the stuff I found fun."
"One can only hope," she replied, "I can't imagine chasing a child with your sensibilities through pouring rain like this."
"Only have to worry about that if we collaborated," he said slyly, "T.J. Davenport, are you implying you want to have my children?"
She shot up from where she had been lying in bed. "Absolutely not!"
"Your loss."
"One I'll cope fine with, thank you!"
He laughed at her expense. "If you change your mind, let me know."
She felt her whole body light up. "No danger in that, I assure you," she insisted, trying to convince him. Yes, him.
"I'll update you in the evening tomorrow," he said, turning the conversation over, "I think I've picked on you enough for one evening."
"I don't care if you call again, you idiot!"
"Love you too, T.J.; hear from you tomorrow."
The com cut out, and she fumed a little, cross that he had twisted her innocuous phrase around to toy around at her expense.
Honestly, as if anyone would be stupid enough to procreate with the likes of that man, she huffed to herself.
Unbidden, a flash of a thought of said process crossed her mind.
Bloody hell, no, she groaned, throwing back the covers and heading toward the bathroom. Brisk shower. That'll get my head on straight. Why does that damn man always have me righting it?
He called late the next night.
"Apologies," he explained, "I got a little distracted."
"By?"
His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "The sky is clear today. The stars are beautiful."
She sighed. She imagined he must miss being in space. She has seen firsthand how much he blossomed amongst it. He was a different man entirely.
"We'll be out amongst them soon enough, thanks to your search."
He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, still barely above a whisper. "Let me ask you something."
Her pulse picked up slightly, intrigued. "Yes?"
"I trust you to be honest with your opinion," he prefaced, "It's why I usually value them."
"You hardly ever go with my opinion," she deadpanned.
"Doesn't mean I don't value the input," he countered.
The sentiment made her heart flutter a little; she had no idea why something like that, said by those as impersonal as coworkers or clientele, had an effect on her when it came from him.
"Very well. Ask your question."
"Considering everything you know about me, would you call me a failure?"
Her eyebrows shot up. Whatever she was expecting it wasn't that.
"What brings this up?"
His sigh was tired, burdened. "I'm not sure. Thinking just got the better of me tonight."
She hummed thoughtfully. "You've made a lot of mistakes, Seth."
"Without a doubt," he said, emotionless.
"But I think you do a good job at trying to right them, and a good job at trying to be a better man on the other end of it all. At the beginning of this, before I saw your true colors, I might have struggled with an answer. Now, I can say with confidence that I do not."
She could hear relief in his next sigh. "Good. Thank you."
"Please do not dwell on such things all night," she pleaded, "You'll fare better in the wild if you're rested and sharp."
"Hearing from you put my mind at ease," he replied, "I feel like sleep may come a little easier now."
"Glad I could help, for once."
"You always help," he said, surprised, "I just told you how much I rely on your input."
"And I just pointed out how we never actually USE my input."
"You don't really think that?"
"Give me ONE instance where you even took into consideration any of my opinions on a plan," she challenged, annoyed.
"All of them."
"You're not funny."
"No, really. All of them. Do you really think that the end product to most of my decisions are the initial draft I had? You have no idea how many plans I've changed due to your feedback. Just because I don't use your whole input doesn't mean I don't use some of it."
"Oh."
She heard him shake his head. "Clearly that's not coming across, though. For that I'm sorry. I'll live up to the expectations you mentioned and right my wrongs; you're a part of everything I do—I'll remind you from time to time of that."
You're a part of everything I do. She knew what he meant, but it still made her chest burn warmly.
He sounded sleepy when he contacted her next, and he confirmed that the day had been physically trying and that he was curled in a sleeping bag, a breath from sleep.
"I envy you, but I won't keep you," she replied, "Best to get your rest."
"Envy? What's the matter, can't sleep?"
She paused. "No."
"Why?"
"No reason. I get bouts of insomnia from time to time," she confessed, "Always have. My father and I used to talk many evenings away when I was a teenager and he was home to mingle with me until my brain finally shut off."
"What would you talk about?"
"Anything, really," she said, "He'd mostly just ask me questions about my life, trying to stay connected with me."
"I'm game. We used to play this game as cadets. Ten questions—we alternate. We both answer."
"Wouldn't you rather sleep?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yes."
"Are you easily going to fall asleep otherwise?"
"…Unlikely."
"Then why not give it a shot?"
"If you insist. Rule to plead the fifth on any one."
"Deal. First question—Have you ever been drunk?"
"In public? No. You?"
He chuckled, "The away week during my ensign years was at a seaside port fondly referred to as 'Blackout Bay.' You tell me."
"Heavens. Alright—do you have a tattoo, perhaps that you acquired at 'Blackout Bay?'
"No tattoos. My mother is Jewish. She'd hit the roof. You?"
"Yes."
"You're fucking with me."
"I do. Martian healthcare systems use a series of codes they suggest patients tattoo for health alerts in an emergency. I am horribly allergic to several antibiotics. I have two symbols in the standardized spot."
"And where is that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
He whistled. "Not nice, T.J. Okay, ever gotten detention while in school?"
"Are you MAD? No!"
"I thought maybe you had a rebellious phase."
"Not at SCHOOL! I was Head Girl, for pity's sake!"
"Big surprise," he chuckled.
"I don't even need to ask if you got detention. Father probably saw you three or four times a year, I'd wager."
"He wishes! Try three or four times A MONTH."
"I have no idea why you were a favorite student of his."
"Man of taste."
"Do you get along with everyone in your family?" she asked.
"No," was all he answered, the response clipped enough that she didn't pry; besides, she'd have to discuss her answer too.
"Me either."
"Did you ever want to be anything different growing up?"
"I once wanted to be a ballerina, like every 4 year old girl."
"The books lure you out?" he teased.
"That, and the fact that I was rubbish at it."
"I wanted to be an archaeologist," he said, "I watched a lot of shows about old civilizations as a kid."
"What changed your mind?"
"Less adventure and WAY more studying than I was looking for."
"Do you have siblings?"
"Three sisters. All older. You're an only child?"
"Yes. I tried to convince mother she wanted a sibling for me, but she refused to get the second tummy tuck," she replied wryly.
"Worst injury you've ever had?"
"Fell off a dock while at a lake one summer when I was 12. Split my head open. Broke a wrist trying to catch myself."
"Tried jumping a ramp on my cousin's jetboard when I was 11. Broke both my collarbones. Dislocated my shoulder. Twenty stitches in the right arm."
"Goodness, Seth. Worst date you've been on?"
"Blind date got us lost in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania one night. Got mugged."
"Had a date excuse himself at the end of dinner, leave, and stiff me with the bill. Found out later he had received a contact from a woman who WOULD put out that night."
"Ouch. That's pretty rude. How long ago was your last relationship?" he asked.
"Eight years ago."
"EIGHT?!"
"Yes, eight. You?"
"Three years ago."
"How many relationships have you been in?" she inquired, not sure why she felt she both wanted and didn't want to know.
"Four."
"I don't believe that for a second. Double digits, easily."
"I swear, it's four," he replied.
"Sexual partners in the double digits then?"
"We're alternating, but I'll allow it. Nine, including the four aforementioned. Your turn."
"Three."
"Total partners?"
She blushed. "Still three."
"Wow, I look like a dirty creep in comparison."
"I expected you to be a dirtier creep, so I'm impressed, actually."
"Thanks," he chuckled. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Ever really been in love?"
Her heart seized up. "Yes."
"Who was it?"
"We're beyond 10 questions."
"Indulge me."
She shook. "I plead the fifth."
"Fair enough. But way to leave the game in suspense. Feeling any better?"
"I feel better distracted from dwelling on the fact that I can't sleep, yes."
"Glad I could help. I'll try to contact you a little earlier tomorrow—these last couple of nights have been a little late."
"Seth?"
"Hmmm?"
"Don't think I didn't notice you didn't answer the question."
She heard a laugh in his throat. "Damn. Tried anyway."
"HAVE you ever been in love?"
"Maybe, now that I'm thinking on it."
"Why maybe?"
"Taking that fifth. Sorry."
When he called in the next evening, he caught her at a bad time. She didn't know why, but suddenly she found herself reminded of her recent firing, and despite the fact that Seth had handed her some encouraging words after it had happened, she was fixated on it tonight. Maybe it was a full moon, maybe it was PMS, maybe it was the mediocre sleep she'd had lately, but after her evening shower, she was suddenly hit with a wave of tears.
The com sounded, and she scrambled to gather herself and banish the sound of her raspy, heaving voice. Once she could focus, and she sounded almost normal, she answered.
"Hello, Seth. I hope you are well this evening."
There was a brief pause before his voice rang into her room. "What's wrong? What happened?"
She hid a sniffle. "Nothing is wrong. We're all safe and sound here. The students are actually being fairly responsible with their duties."
"Then why are you upset?"
She froze. She had steadied her voice; if she hadn't been there, she wouldn't have known she was crying.
"Who said I was upset?"
"No one needed to. I can hear it in your voice."
Damn. Her cover up sucked. Just like her teaching sucked. Just like her life sucked.
She began to openly sob again.
"Slow down," He soothed, "What's wrong?"
"I don't know why but I got to thinking about my job again," she cried, "My ex-job. All my goals and hard work are for naught. I know I chafed a little under the principal, but things were supposed to change once I was on top. I wanted so badly to make better the bad I saw; but it probably wouldn't matter anyway, if they considered me so invaluable as to not even consider bringing me back as faculty." She wiped her eyes, suppressing another shuddering sob. "Sometimes I wonder if I have any value at all."
"Stop," he snapped, "I wouldn't take this kind of talk about you from someone else, and I won't take it from you."
She was a little taken aback by his tone. "Seth…"
"Don't 'Seth' me. I can't believe you'd think that. I order you to stop."
Order her? How…ridiculous.
She burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"You! You just ordered me to stop crying and feeling bad for myself. You'd give a command decision for anything, I swear."
"Obey this one, please."
She wiped tears of grief and mirth off her cheeks. "I will try, Commander."
He was silent a moment, gathering his thoughts.
"You were a valuable administrator; you were the only one on the staff willing to give any of us waywards a chance. Everyone at Starcademy thought you were the better of the two head figures, staff and students included. I always got the impression that Madam Principal just gave you a hard time all the time because she knew that. You had her literally beat in every realm of living—she probably felt threatened by the younger, smarter, better-liked, far more attractive second in command."
"Anyone would be attractive by comparison," she joked, "Do you remember her hair?"
"I do," he cringed, "But that doesn't minimize that you're a capable administrator who is also good-looking. Take the compliment, for once."
She blushed. "…Very well."
"You're a valuable member of this crew—the students have improved as capable cadets in leaps and bounds in no small part thanks to your lessons. Plus, though they complain about it, they'll come to realize how much they owe you for keeping them up with education and credentialing by the time we get home; you're making sure that their lives aren't lost to a 7 year hiatus—that'll be huge in the long run. The terrible and wonderful thing about your contribution to the crew is that it's the long game; much harder to cope with than the instant gratification of my work."
Her heart felt a little lighter. She supposed he was right about that.
"And on top of that, I find you valuable. You've been a good second to me; I've thrived better due to your temperance. Beyond that though…" he stopped, and sighed, "When I was demoted, I suddenly found myself with little support from friends. Most of the officers don't want to be affiliated with the newly court-martialed. It made the subsequent punishment that much harder to take. Over the year, our friendships became but memories, and I had no one left."
She wiped her eyes, listening, sad for him.
"Since we've been on board, you've filled that void left by those who abandoned me. You've truly become my best friend."
She gasped. "I'm your best friend?"
"Well yeah," he said, the frown audible in his voice, "I don't know why you sound so shocked."
"It's just…I didn't think you thought we were that close."
"You didn't?"
"No, of course not."
He voice had a bit of an edge to it when he spoke. "Oh. I see."
"To be fair, we don't really act like friends sometimes."
"What? How do you figure?"
"Well, I've never seen anyone fight as often as we do."
"It's BANTER, T.J.," he replied, frustration creeping into his voice, "I was reading that you seemed to enjoy it. Seems I've been misreading a lot, apparently."
"I mean, I enjoy banter," she backtracked, "But I don't know that I've ever had so much of it with any other friend."
"So? I don't understand why it's so hard to comprehend that we'd have a different kind of dynamic than the friendship you had back at the Starcademy with John in goddamn admissions."
She bristled. "I don't know why you're getting frustrated with me."
"Excuse me for thinking that you don't think we're friends is frustrating," he spat.
"I never said anything of the sort!" she argued, voice rising, "I simply said I was shocked at the depth you attached to it. If you truly feel that way, then you're sending a lot of goddamn mixed signals."
"I'M sending mixed signals?" he exclaimed, "With what you've given me I came to the conclusion we were actually really close. Now you drop the bomb that the idea is so crazy, you're shocked by it. That's either mixed or outright dishonest."
"Are you accusing me of being FAKE?" she yelled.
"Well SOMETHING is going on here!"
"What's going on is that you've lost your mind! You fight me and tease me constantly and then tell me I'm your best friend. THEN, you get mad at me when I'm confused."
"You give it right back!" he shouted, "I thought that was your way of understanding how this damn tango works!"
"Are you seriously basing your definition of our friendship on my ability to be the only one around to engage in word games with you?"
She heard him slam a palm on something in frustration. "No! You're the one who fails to see anything in our relationship beyond banter! I'm telling you that the reason we do it so much is because I was under the impression you LIKED it. And you tell me you do, but you maybe don't, and all the while seem to ignore everything else of substance between us. I literally just told you how great I thought you were, and you're still questioning if I even care. Holy shit, T.J., do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
"I didn't ignore it!" she cried, tears of frustration threatening to creep into her voice, "And I didn't say I was QUESTIONING you. I was surprised, is all. And now here we are, fighting again, exactly as I said before. There are too many angles here, Seth, it's CONFUSING!"
"Well then let me give you time to figure it all out," he sneered, "Goddard out."
The comlink snapped closed.
She stared at the device a moment, a slew of emotions running through her. Her first instinct was to call him back and yell at him for hanging up, but dread and sorrow quickly brushed that idea from her mind.
Goodness, she fretted, breathing picking up, I may have actually hurt him to the point of anger. Perhaps he hardly considers me a friend now, let alone his best one…
The thought hit her like a wrecking ball to the chest. Though she thought most of her tears spent on ruminating over her job, she found she had no trouble summoning veritable rivers of them now.
When he didn't call the next night, she contemplated initiating contact. She was miserable—she hadn't slept the night before, and spent the day worrying herself over how to salvage things between her and Seth, if such a thing were possible. Now, she was spending the evening worrying herself over whether the lack in communication was because he was choosing to ignore her or because he was in trouble.
Still, if he answered, she needed to have something to bring to the table. Her mother always told her never to complain about a problem unless she was prepared to offer solutions to fix it.
She honestly hadn't meant to make it sound like she was brushing off his sentiments about thinking about her as his best friend. Everything between them had evolved slowly, over time, the two of them kicking and screaming toward a semblance of balance. When they got there, the progression was slow enough that she hadn't noticed how far they had come; she had assumed that where they were now was how it had always been, but when she thought about it, it was hardly true.
Add that to the fact that, when she also re-evaluated the slow evolution of her feelings for Goddard, she found herself shocked at just how deeply she had allowed herself to become entwined with him. With a critical eye and honest heart, she found herself agreeing with everything Seth had said; the man had become her best friend.
If she was REALLY critical and honest, she feared the evolution was continuing, and she was falling for said best friend. The thought was scary.
Losing the ground they had gained was scarier still, however, and she curled in bed thinking of ways to re-open the lines of communication between them and get back into his good graces.
The com went off three hours later, rousing her from a sleep she hadn't realized she had fallen into. She missed the first few chirps as she woke from a deep haze, unsure where the sound was coming from. When it registered, she leaped for it.
"Seth?"
He sighed. "Before anything else is said, let me apologize for last night."
She started. "What are you apologizing for?"
"I lost my temper when I got frustrated," he said. She could hear him running a fidgety hand through his hair, "And I only got frustrated because I was putting words in your mouth."
"You did," she said gently, "But I understand how what I said might have come off wrong. You and I have been in each other's presence for such a long time that I failed to realize that we had, in fact, made strides. The dynamic between us has changed. Seeing that, I don't know why I was shocked that you saw us as best friends, considering that, with thought, I've come to realize I think the same way."
"You mean that?"
"I do. Pending I didn't burn my bridges. I thought for a moment that when you didn't call at the usual hour, you were furious with me."
"I was mad for about an hour last night, before I recognized how I turned a bunch of my assumptions back on you. Then I realized that I had been unfair. I figured that you might still be upset with me."
"No," she answered, perhaps a little too quickly, "I'm not, I'm…glad to hear from you."
He heaved another, greater sigh. "Same."
"Friends again?"
"Please."
"And it's okay that I consider you of the 'best' variety again?" he teased.
"Other than that and the standard, what else is there?"
"Frenemies. Friends with benefits. Girlfriends."
Had she been drinking, she'd have done a spit-take.
"W…what?"
"I'm joking around, T.J.. It's been a solid 24 hours. A man can't go that long."
Didn't do much for her heartbeat.
"Are you saying that you could never consider me other varieties?" she huffed, trying to sound indignant, "I'll have you know I'm a good enough contender for anyone."
"Who's putting words in whose mouth now?" he said coyly, "I never implied you couldn't compete."
Bright red. She was bright. Red.
"Not…not that it matters!" she corrected.
"Of course not," he replied calmly.
"It doesn't!" she insisted, "It's banter, don't read into it."
"Sure, sure. First we talk about how you love the sound of my sultry voice, and a week later, you're talking about how we can be better friends. If you really want my children, just ask."
"I'm hanging up now!"
"I have very good genes."
"You do not!" she shrieked, "And stop with this line of banter—that device has made you far too bold!"
He laughed. "It's been said it's easier to be a little more daring hiding behind technology. But I rather like the level of boldness. And I miss seeing you get flustered. Maybe I'll hold the line when I get back."
"If you get back! I hope the vines eat you!"
"On my way back now, actually. Found the crystal early this morning. Pending good weather, I should return in four days or so."
"Take your time!"
"Never. I miss talking to you face-to-face. Once I get back, let's continue this ritual of ours."
"What ritual?"
"Nightly talks. I'm enjoying them. Well, not last night, but the rest have been nice."
She stopped. "You…like them that much?"
"Yeah."
RED. BRIGHT. BRIGHT. RED.
"Yes…well…we'll see."
"Or, if you would prefer finally getting your hands on those good genes we talked about, that could be an alternative evening activity," he burst into laughter at the end, knowing that she would lose it.
She did not disappoint. "Oh, go fall in the sand monster pit!" she snapped before shutting off the com. She stormed out of bed again, toward the bathroom.
I am just sick to death of cold showers…
When he had returned, she was ready to take him up on his offer for nightly talks, but then the most horrific thing she had ever witnessed had happened, and now he was trapped in the healing chamber, unable to speak to her in any capacity.
Without even so much as a joke at her expense, she felt horribly, horribly empty. The lack of communication after their tiff paled in comparison to this. Rosie forecasted a month's healing time, if he survived the process. Whether a month or a lifetime, it felt too long to not hear his voice.
She found that realization a little striking as she brooded alone in the medbay and stared at the chamber. She was trying to figure out how to tolerate a month; what would happen when they returned home, presumably to return to their separate lives? Would he find the time to spare her a word every day?
The thought was a sour pill. Best she take time in chunks. The objective now was to get him well in the next 30 days so that she'd have him back for the duration of the trip; she'd have 6 years to figure out how to cope with the rest. In the meantime, he wanted nightly talks, and there was nothing she wouldn't give him at this point, if it meant having him returned to her. And so, she pulled up a chair.
"Here for our nightly communique. This evening was tense, but went well. You'd be proud of the students…"