When's he gonna get here? Her dinner lies uneaten on a nearby tray. She half heartedly spoons some of the viscous goo in her mouth, a voice echoing in her head. "You have to keep up your strength. That means eating everything on the tray, no matter how disgusting." Yeah, yeah, I'm trying. She knows she shouldn't even be alive, she's lucky to be here at all, but still, two months of powdered shakes and purées is beginning to wear on her. Not that there's anything much better they're keeping from her. Must be a mess out there. I shouldn't complain. She tries a sip of the shake, its hue of bright yellow seeming slightly ominous, and chokes it down. It's some noxious flavor that, in another life, might purport to be pineapple. A message pings. Good, they've landed, what's a few more minutes? Two whole months. Eight, really, for him. So close. Two months and she can still barely use crutches. Barely. And for like, a minute. She gets easily frustrated, pushing too hard, they say. I just don't feel like me, is all. But he'll be here soon. That will help. God, will it help. Finally. Despite their daily vid chats, she misses him: his warmth during the night, the smell of him on her clothes, the scratch of his beard on her neck and chest when they make love. So much. But today, he'll be here. He'll come and sit right here. She fiddles with her hair, trying to make it do something, anything, but then capitulates, admitting defeat. Now she just has to wait. You're the one who's good at waiting. Not me.
Thank god. He rubs his eyes, runs a finger through his hair before putting back on his hat. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen" He says under his breath as he packs his last few things in nearby bag. "We hope you've enjoyed your flight on the SR-2. We apologize for the slight delay in getting you to your destination. Please remember to collect any belongings as we get the fuck off this ship."
"Dr T'soni has arranged your transportation to the hospital, if you are ready."
"Thanks." He grabs the bag; someone'll get the rest of his stuff later. He takes a breath, giving his chair a pat before he ambles off the bridge, off the ship, into a cab, finally on his way to her.
II.
"Hey."
"Hey." He pauses in the doorway, staring at her. She's here. She's really here.
"What are you doing? Get your butt over here!"
He slowly puts down his bag, gently climbs into the bed with her.
"What? I told you I was a little out of shape."
He smiles, his thumbs going behind her ears as he presses his mouth to hers. She inhales him, her hands traveling across his body, her lip devouring his. She's falling on her back, bringing him with her, untucking his shirt, undoing his belt.
"Wait.. are you….okay to.?" He mumbles, his breath warm on her neck.
"Mmhmm. Doctor's note and everything. Just the whole, you know, walking thing I need to relearn. "
"How the tables have turned."
"Shut it.", her mouth urgently on his as he unzips her hoodie, pulling her bra and t-shirt over her head. She slips her sweatpants down as he kicks of his shoes, removing the rest of his clothing. Her skin is as soft and warm as he remembers, and he kisses every new scar and every old one before she guides his head downward.
III.
She curls up under his arm as he pulls the covers over them, her nose brushing his chest before she looks up at him. "I missed that."
"Me too."
"Never-" she yawns, mumbling as she falls asleep "-have to miss it again."
"Never again." He repeats, tracing small circles on her hip with his finger before he drifts off.
