Author's Note:

This is a bit short, but it will probably get longer later on. As always, please review, thank you.

We drank like there was no tomorrow. Which, for Hal and me, would be half true. We went through four of Hal's five barrels, and was going through the fifth.

Hal was already passed out, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. The wretched gramophone was still playing its slow, sorrowful tune as we doused ourselves with alcohol. We reeked, all three of us, and we would doubtless get a massive headache the following morning. But the warmth and the companionship is too much to pass up.

For the umpteenth time this night, I looked over to my right, at the boy who grabbed my attention from the moment I saw that fateful Thames headline: "Vikram Spzirglas Brought to Justice by Cabin Boy, 15!"

I had been filled with anger at first. The article detailed on how the cabin boy, Matt Cruse, bested my father in a sword fight at the top of the Aurora, holding nothing aside from a kitchen knife used for cutting vegetables. How the dreaded pirate lost footing due to his wounds, and how Matt gave him the final blow. Then it described how he singlehandedly freed all of the passengers and crew aboard by drugging the pirates, and then piloted the airship to safety while its captain and officers were still recovering. It had seemed as likely a story as the ones my father used to tell me before bed, but the truth was the truth. Vikram Spzirglas was dead.

I'd became obsessed with the news, and my father's killer. I even carried a grainy photograph cut-out of Matt for a couple of weeks. The newspaper had made him look bigger and meaner than he actually was, with none of the slender, willowy grace and good manners I saw for myself. Or maybe it had been my own imagination, for I saw him in my mind's eye as a towering boy of six feet, brutal and strong, huge in stature for his age and with a cruel smirk.

My mother hadn't cared much. Father had broke her heart, and we Roma were good at remembering. Plus, she was remarried now, and quite happy with my stepfather as far as I could tell. When I'd shown her the news, she'd only took it, laughed, and told me to go on with my chores.

The timing of everything after that was just right. I'd escaped home for marriage, right about the same time when the Hyperion was rediscovered. Rath and his men had found me soon after, but with a bit of trickery I'd kept one step ahead of them. It ought to have had surprised me when I'd found out Rath was going after the very Matt Cruse, but somehow, I'd known that we were going to meet this way. The months had dampened my hatred for him, and an avid curiosity had taken its place. Of course, there'd still been the intense, conflicting feelings that remained, but I'd been determined to not let it get between my business proposal.

And when I had finally met him, I'd been surprised at how soft-spoken and well brought-up he was. Then, all the remaining hatred washed away when he'd told us all the truth of his encounter with my father. He was so honest, and so kind, that it hadn't been hard to forgive him, especially when there'd been nothing to forgive in the first place. The voyage went on as usual, and before I knew it, I'd kissed him.

It'd been intended as a jest at first, to see how he would react — he was also quite the looker, which certainly added to the enjoyability of the kiss. But beyond his looks there was a tender heart; a kind of honest, gentle goodness that I'd never experienced with people around me growing up. He'd cared for me, stood up for me. There had been real sparks of attraction between us, and we could both tell.

So, unexpectedly, it had happened. Happened later that day, after the kiss, when I'd offered to work at his math with him, and he'd smiled his usual smile at me. A bit timid, a bit unsure, and genuine to boot.

From that moment on, I knew I was in love.

Matt's eyes glinted with the effects of the alcohol. He was handsome, but not in a grab-your-eyes fashion; none of his features were especially great, but somehow, when you put them together, he was perfect. He had an impish or elfish charm about him, something that told of a free soul. A gentle breeze solidified into human form was how I would describe him. Restless but content at the same time, and infinitely refreshing.

"Why are you staring?" he asked, words slurred. "At me?"

I realized with a start that I've been looking at him for a few minutes now. He was looking back at me, curious.

"I'm thinking about how we met," I said. "Well, not the first time. How we really met, on the rooftops of Paris."

My mind was clear, for I've always been good with alcohol. My cheeks would flush and my eyes would become abnormally bright after a few glasses, which made people think that I was a lightweight drinker. But I didn't actually get drunk until I've had a tremendous amount of alcohol, and my mind right now was no different than it'd been before we began to drink.

Matt smiled. His smile was something to behold — sunshine hidden in plain sight. For a short moment I was jealous how Kate could own this smile in a way I never could. What a lucky, lucky girl.

"I remember, too." Matt said. "You were a lunatic."

"It wasn't lunacy," I said. "It was running for our lives."

"You were wearing a nice coat," he said with a gorgeously stupid grin.

"The one I'm wearing now?" I asked, knowing it was true. I've only ever owned one coat.

"It turned into wings," he said. "And you flew. And I thought, I'd like a coat like that."

"You don't need it. You can already fly, you silly boy."

"I can fly," he repeated. "Maybe."

"Lighter than air, is that what they say?"

"Air," he said, and grinned again.

I leaned in and kissed him.

He didn't really pull away. The wine had clouded his mind, and I was glad. He tasted strongly of alcohol, but under the pungent burn, there was still the old Matt, the one who smelled of fresh morning air when we'd kissed in the Saga's crow's nest.

"I think I love you," I said in a tiny murmur after I pulled away.

"Thank you. I thought you did too," he said happily. With unsteady hands he found an open bottle and drank directly from the mouth.

If only this were true. Drinks made men say queer things. Matt wasn't exactly the most sensitive boy in the world, and I wasn't sure at all if he even had an inkling of my true feelings. He probably thought that, whatever was between us, was merely physical attraction.

Suddenly agitated, I pulled away the bottle and leaned in to kiss him again. His kiss back was clumsy but endearing, and I wondered if he'd ever been drunk before. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, because I knew that it was all an illusion, but couldn't stop myself from falling deeper. I wanted to remind myself that he belonged to another girl now, that we would never have a chance together. An ostrich with her head in the sand, that's what I was.

"Would you like me better if I hadn't dropped the blueprint?" He asked suddenly, as he let up a little.

I wondered then how clear his thoughts actually were. His eyes, two cerulean orbs as clear and blue as the sky in which he was born, were affixed on me, intent. His expression was also intense, hungry for approval. I thought about the question for a good long minute.

"No," I answered finally. "I would like you either way. It's who you are, not what you did." I didn't dare to use the word 'love' anymore. Even with Hal passed out and the dining room empty, it still felt too intimate.

He nodded. He coughed, and a bit of foam was at the edge of his lips.

"Matt," I said. "I think you should go to sleep."

I looked around and found that there were hardly any liquor left. Between the three of us, we'd drank up nearly all of Hal's stores.

"I'm not tired," he protested.

"But you're drunk."

"I'm not… drunk."

He gulped down another mouthful of whiskey before I took the bottle away from him.

"I think it's a good idea that you stopped drinking," I said.

"Hmm," he murmured meekly as he started to cough again. "Okay."

A soft grumble came from his stomach.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel a little…" he looked at me, trying to put together his muddled thoughts. "My stomach. A little sick."

I touched his shoulder and got him to stand up.

"I hope you don't vomit," I said.

"I won't," he said. "Maybe I should sleep."

"You should," I confirmed. "Here. I'll lead you back to your cabin."

He leaned on me a little as we walked through the dining room. The gesture made me feel giddy.

Our progress was slow, for his steps were unsteady and small.

"Wait," he said as we reached his cabin. "Wait."

"What's wrong?"

"We should… tell Dorje. Get Hal to cabin."

I understood. Hal was passed out and drunk. Someone needed to tend to him, as I was tending to Matt. For a moment, I was stirred speechless by his kindness. Despite all of Hal's verbal bullying, he still thought of the drunk captain, even while he was drunk himself. I thought he might be the most altruistic person I've ever met, and that made me love him all the more.

They say that alcohol made you feel temporarily better, but I felt quite depressed. I did not understand. Why couldn't two people, who clearly attracted each other, belong to each other?

Some ugly thoughts entered my mind about Kate. I brushed them away.

Matt was trying to tug me in the direction of the bridge.

"I know, I know," I reassured him. "Just stay here. I'll get Dorje."

He nodded meekly and leaned against the wall. He coughed again, and made some alarmingly deep and throaty noises. I hoped he had been saying the truth when he'd claimed he wouldn't vomit.

I decided to get it over with as and return as soon as possible. I ran up to the bridge, awash in warm light. I saw Kami, Ang, and Dorje, with Dorje at the helm. All three sherpas turned curiously to me.

"Nadira," Kami said. "Are you drunk?"

"No," I said. "I'm fine. Hal is, though. And so is Matt."

"You need help?" Dorje asked with his kind, almond eyes.

"Yes. I'm taking care of Matt, but I'll need someone to care for Hal."

"I'll go, then," Dorje said. "Thank you for telling us." He then said something to Kami in Tibetan, and the sherpa nodded and went over to the helm.

Dorje and I walked aft.

I found Matt crumpled against the wall, breathing shallowly, almost asleep. Dorje looked concerned, but I waved him on, saying I could take care of it myself.

"Your cabin might smell quite boozy, though," I warned him apologetically.

He nodded good-naturedly. "I'm not going to be off duty until tomorrow morning. Don't worry. But my aunt —"

"I'll have a shower to clean myself off," I told him. I would never want to inconvenience Mrs. Ram by making our cabin smell like a bar.

He smiled gratefully, and went further aft while I started to tend to Matt.

"Can you stand?" I asked the chestnut-haired boy.

"Nnggh," Matt said.

I stretched out a hand, and he stared up at me groggily, not comprehending. I sighed, bent down, and put my hands under his arms. I gave a tug, and managed to get him standing again. He wasn't much heavier than I was, and I was already pretty light for a girl. I now understood why Mrs. Ram would want to fuss over him; he really could use some feeding.

"Let's get you in bed," I said, the same time as his head drooped forward and thunked on my shoulder. He desperately needed rest.

I opened the cabin door, turned on the lights, and managed to get him in his bunk. I remembered earlier this day, when I'd confronted him about blaming himself and taking Hal's bullying.

I got him to lie down, but didn't want to put blankets over him because it seemed quite unsanitary. His bed would be smelling of alcohol for days if I did. Instead, I just laid his head on his pillow, knelt down beside the bed, and kissed him again, gently.

He didn't kiss back, but he was staring at me after our lips parted, an utterly confused expression on his face.

"Hello," he said, visibly disoriented and trying to work out why I was there, and probably why I just kissed him.

I couldn't bear to look at his face any longer. I brushed his sweat-stuck hair from his forehead, and, turning off the lights on my way out, I escaped from his cabin. I closed the cabin door.

"Good night," I whispered. I held back my sudden urge of tears. Tears would be for later, in the shower, when it would blend with the running water.

When nobody could tell.