Author's Note:
So, I should just address the elephant in the room…It's been a long time. Honestly that even feels like an understatement. Looking at my "Last Updated" date, it says "September 13, 2017." Yeah…I guess I've been kind of MIA for quite a bit longer than just a "long time."
Despite my time away, I never forgot about this story. Nor have I forgotten about those who have been supportive and complimentary of my literary dabbling since I've been gone.
There are a lot of different reasons I was gone for so long. I could go down the laundry list of occasions and circumstances, but I feel that I would ultimately bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that "Life" just kind of happened. And before anyone gets worried, it's actually been pretty dang positive throughout this time. I am very excited about this phase in my life
That said, I do apologize for my absence from this platform for such an extended period. It is a significant gap. I promise that I will never leave this story to die – I'm not one to quit a project and I always complete what I start. However, simply due to the reality of my circumstances, I cannot promise that updates will be frequent or regular. That said, they will still occur, I will update when I can, and I will communicate with anyone that PMs me directly!
Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think (if you're so inclined).
All the best.
… … … … … … … …
Peebee jumped with a start at the unexpected shout that resonated from beyond the door of Ryder's quarters. A small portion of her evening tea spilled upon the skin of her hands and she bit back a string of expletives. Another bout of muffled yelling, followed by short and unintelligible words, escaped through the metal barrier. Her brow furrowed and she placed her drink onto the kitchen counter to avoid another unfortunate scalding. It was no secret amongst the crew that Ryder had been dealing – fairly unsuccessfully – with an otherwise unaddressed personal issue. A few of the others, particularly Cora and Liam, posited that the stress of losing his father had finally gotten the better of him.
Peebee could see the reasoning in that.
If she was being honest with herself – and she usually wasn't – she possessed her own unresolved skeletons that she made a point to avoid. That said, based on the hollow countenance that occasionally took over Ryder's demeanor, a nagging part of her believed that there was more to the story. Rare was the night where it did not sound like the Pathfinder was suffering from an uncontrollable nightmare.
Peebee empathized. More often than not she found herself suffering from a cold sweat in the middle of the night, a victim of her own memories best left avoided. She was about to turn and retrieve her cooling beverage, ready to return to her private room for a moment of late-night peace, when another pained yelp reached her.
She sighed. The Pathfinder was indeed suffering another agonizing evening.
Usually she would have left well enough alone. Ryder's nightmares were his own, and it was not her place to intrude on whatever conflict assailed his unconscious mind. However, as the pitiful sounds continued, and the more she stared at the dull metal of the Pathfinder's door, Peebee finally resolved to intervene as best she could. No one deserved to suffer such torment alone. She brushed her hand over the access panel and stepped forward into the unilluminated quarters as the door slid open with mechanical ease. The door closed moments later and she found herself unceremoniously enveloped in darkness. Peebee blinked for several moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden shift in brightness, and listened as she waited to regain her bearings.
The familiar sound of rustling fabric, broken only by scant seconds of stillness, followed by more rustling, and the occasional whimper or bark of an intelligible word assailed her from within the gloom. Finally her vision refocused and she could make out the vaguest definition of shapes in the shuttered chamber. To her right, following the sound of the unbroken noise, she carefully shuffled towards what she thought was Ryder's bed. Her bare feet assisted in remaining silent as she felt her way towards the head of the mattress. As she neared the headboard, a small blue orb materialized on the nightstand. Peebee shoved the heel of her palm into her mouth to prevent herself from yelling at the unexpected appearance.
"Don't do that!" She hissed.
"My apologies," SAM replied.
"Whatever," Peebee said. She took a few breaths to calm her racing heart before motioning towards Ryder's tossing form. "What's wrong?"
"Another night terror. They have become rather frequent these last few months. Usually I am able to rouse him from sleep and ease his mind, but I do not seem able to stimulate him out of his current condition."
She frowned. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"You may attempt physical intervention. My capabilities are limited to cognitive stimuli."
Peebee nodded and carefully eased herself onto the edge of the mattress near Ryder's shoulder. He turned restlessly upon the bed, his sheets an unruly mess of twists and knots. Small dark patches marred the fabric and she guessed it was from the sweat that also drenched his shirt. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Ryder," she whispered as she shook him gently.
His body did not turn again, but his head remained restless and she could see his eyes shifting vigorously beneath their lids. She shook him again but he failed to respond to her ministrations.
"Come on bud, work with me here," she said more to herself than to her unconscious companion.
Peebee reached across his chest and gripped his other shoulder with her opposite hand. She continued to jostle him carefully, hoping to ease him out of his troubled slumber. Despite her best efforts Ryder remained oblivious to the outside world.
"Any ideas, SAM?" She asked looking intently at the ghostly hologram.
The blue orb shimmered faintly. "Perhaps shake him with a bit more force. Or, you may attempt to yell in his ear."
"Wow. Thanks," she said as her expression became pointed, "I can't believe I hadn't thought of that yet."
"I am happy to be of service," SAM replied.
"You don't have any better ideas?"
"Not at this time."
Peebee rolled her eyes. She bent down until her lips were almost touching the Pathfinder's ear and gripped his shoulders with more force.
"Ryder! Wake Up!"
She pulled against his heavy frame several times as she repeated the mantra in his ear. As Ryder's unconscious mind registered the feeling of something grabbing onto his body, a small tremor rippled through his muscles and his eyes snapped open. Peebee gasped at both the empty stare that bore into her and the sudden tight pressure around her throat. Before she could even react or attempt to escape, she found herself locked in place by his vice like grip. One hand had wrapped around her wrist while the other had shot upwards like a coiled viper. She brought her one free hand up against the fingers wrapped around her throat and rasped against the sudden obstruction.
"It's me…Ryder…it's…Peebee," she hoarsely forced out.
Ryder's eyes roved upwards over her face, looking at her but not quite seeing her. An unsettling feeling crept into her gut as it felt as if he was looking straight through her. Peebee pulled against his fingers and managed to free her throat just a fraction.
"It's me…" she croaked again.
The pressure around her larynx gradually began to lessen as the Pathfinder blinked repeatedly. His initial lack of awareness slowly gave way to vague recognition. Able to breathe easy once again, she moved the hand that been leveraged against his own and placed it gently against Ryder's cheek.
"There ya go. You're alright," she said.
Ryder's features pressed together uncomfortably as his mind attempted to make sense of what was going on. It was clear that part of his consciousness still remained clouded by the vestiges of his nightmare. "Peebee?"
She grinned and patted his cheek softly. "The one and only. How're you feeling?"
He released a ragged breath and the air was hot against her face. Ryder did not answer immediately as he attempted to scan the area around him despite the darkness of his quarters.
"Where are we?" He asked with the barest hint of veiled panic.
"We're on the Tempest," she replied in a soothing voice.
The tension in Ryder's body eased at her response and he exhaled heavily once again. His gaze traveled down towards his fingers still pressed around her narrow throat and his eyes widened, a look of horror overriding his features. Peebee felt the remaining pressure around her windpipe disappear in an instant as his hand dropped to his chest.
"Oh god, Peebee, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I don't— "
He stammered uncomfortably unable to find the right words. Peebee observed the struggle with concern and pressed her palm more firmly against his cheek.
"Shhhh," she quickly consoled, "I'm all good, bud. No harm, no foul."
Ryder looked up at her doubtfully for a pregnant moment. She met his gaze. Her eyes were strong and she did not allow even the faintest impression of wariness or fear bleed through. "I'm fine. Relax."
It was obvious that he doubted her words, but he finally nodded in acquiescence. "Okay," he said.
The Pathfinder then closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He paused before exhaling and repeated the process several times over. Peebee doubted it was a conscious move, but Ryder angled his face ever so slightly to press his jaw more snuggly into her warm caress. She knew what it was like to wake up from a dead rest, hounded by old memories and restless ghosts, alone and afraid. Her lips pressed together as she recognized his plight. It was a storm she had weathered herself.
"You feelin' alright?"
Ryder did not open his eyes but the faintest trace of a bitter smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Not really," he answered.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Peebee asked as her thumb lightly stroked the side of his cheek. She knew it was a stupid question, but she felt compelled to ask it anyway. Ryder's eyelids remained shut but his jaw tightened reflexively.
"I don't."
"Okay," she said quietly.
A heavy silence developed around them as she remained seated at his side and he focused on controlling his adrenaline fueled heartrate. Though he doubted it was her conscious intent, the feeling of Peebee's thumb softly tracing against the corner of his jaw helped to slowly ease the heightened beat of his chest. His lips parted by a fraction. Several levels of coiled tension and stress trickled away as Ryder slowly released a long drawn out breath.
"Thanks Bee," Ryder mumbled. Peebee smirked at the sleepy drawl that had overridden his inflection.
"For what? I didn't do nothin' special," she said.
Part of her expected the Pathfinder to argue against her self-deprecation as he was often wont to do. Instead he simply hummed, too tired to actually retort with words. An involuntary sigh escaped her as she watched him drift once again into the realm of unconsciousness. Against her better judgement, the flighty rogue had grown attached to the crew of the Tempest. She cared about them. Though she would probably never openly admit it, and she would more than likely stab anyone that attempted to claim otherwise, the crew had become some of her closest friends. Peebee sighed. Even the Pathfinder, with his stubborn habits and crass attitude, had somehow wedged himself in her isolated cocoon of a heart. She shook her head in mock disgust and stuck her tongue out at the sentimentality that had suddenly reared its prickly head. You're going soft, she thought.
Her thoughts trailed aimlessly as she listened to the easing of Ryder's breath. Her wrist, still loosely held in one of his hands, began to feel warm at the physical contact. Now painfully aware of their proximity, and abruptly taken aback by how intimate their current position was, she pulled her hand away from his cheek and moved to stand from the edge of the mattress. Despite her best efforts the Pathfinder's eyes opened once again and focused on her retreating form.
"Where're you going?" he asked.
She looked back with mild surprise and bit her bottom lip to stifle a giggle. The groggy, half-lidded, and bleary appearance of Ryder's countenance was priceless. Peebee coughed before answering.
"I'm going back to my room. I didn't think you wanted a bunkmate."
The last part was said in jest but Ryder picked up on it, despite his addled state, almost immediately. As if a switch had been flipped his face grew serious and any tiredness in his expression evaporated.
"Honestly," he said without looking at her, "having a friend around wouldn't be so bad."
She blinked dumbly. Peebee had not expected him to actually ask her to stay. "Oh," she said.
He frowned and raised an eyebrow. Several empty seconds passed between them and he eventually maneuvered himself against the backboard so his back was propped against it. Ryder rubbed his eyes and he did his best to focus on her in the near total lack of light.
"I mean, it's nothing weird," he quickly clarified. "I just…" he rubbed the back of his neck and searched for the right words. He looked down at his lap, up at the ceiling, at her, back at the ceiling, and then finally focused on her. His hand left his neck and fidgeted at his side. Ryder shook his head and rested fully against the backboard. He waved her off dismissively. "Don't worry about it."
Peebee contemplated the situation for a brief moment, weighing the options mentally. It was true that her relationship with the crew of the Tempest had grown stronger over the months that they had travelled together. That said, she liked to imagine that there was some level of separation between herself and those on the ship. Peebee wanted to pretend that she did not care as much as she did for her new companions. However, much to her chagrin, she lacked the ability to be indifferent now.
"I get it," she finally answered.
Ryder looked at her and squinted. Before he could say anything in response Peebee padded over to the other side of the bed and maneuvered herself similar to his position.
"Trust me," she said without looking at him. "I get it."
He watched her as she settled down into the mattress. She wrapped the blankets around her shoulders, turned onto to her side so that she was facing him, and closed her eyes as her breathing paced into a drowsy rhythm. Ryder remained in his position against the headboard and felt his eyes become heavy once again with the pull of sleep. Unable to resist the temptation any longer he slid back down into the cushion of his bed and allowed his head to sink deeply into his pillow. Ryder's breathing ebbed into a cadence that matched Peebee's. It was slow and deliberate, unconcerned with the worries of the past nor of those of tomorrow. Finally, comforted by the reassuring presence of his companion, he turned onto his side as well and drifted away into a silent and dreamless sea.
