At some point Kelly had lost track of just how much time was passing, just how long she had been in her quarters. The Orville was waiting for a fellow Union ship to arrive to assist with the clean-up of what had happened and to properly catalogue all that remained on the Discovery. By all rights perhaps she should have been on the bridge but it was easier to shrug off any sense of guilt she might have felt about keeping her distance with Claire's recommendation that she take it easy for a while. That gave her the best excuse to steer clear.

Perhaps excuse wasn't the right word.

Personally Kelly thought that was exactly what it was.

The star-peppered blackness beyond her window was a sorry distraction from all the thoughts that fought to crash through her head and no matter how hard she worked to keep them at bay there was no holding them back, at least not fully. They would worm their way through her defences, seep in through the cracks in the walls she was trying to keep up, and with a heavy sigh she took her eyes from the expanse of space outside and looked to the glass on the table.

Wine was a bad idea. Or, more to the point, another glass would be a bad idea.

Scooping it up and setting it on the side in the kitchenette area of her lower quarters Kelly ordered coffee instead, already knowing full well that she wouldn't drink it. It had been stupid to synthesise it, a waste really, and as she looked down into the steaming liquid she realised she was trying to distract herself by thinking about just how much energy it required to create such a thing.

The doorbell chimed. She lifted her head, blinking her eyes, still cradling the cup in her hands as she padded across the room and answered the call.

As soon as the doors opened she wished she had stayed where she was, wished she had stayed quiet, wished she had pretended she was asleep or anywhere else on the ship. Her stomach had instantly tied itself into a knot and her heart felt like it was in the process of doing the same, already aching so much that it was all she could do to suck down a breath. Too late she realised she was staring and dropped her gaze, finding herself once again looking into that stupid cup of coffee that she really didn't want.

Ed was quiet at first, letting her get used to the idea that he was standing there, maybe, or not wanting to make her feel worse. Kelly wasn't sure which was more likely. Normally she had no trouble at all figuring out what was driving him at any given moment in time but that ability to read him like a book required her to look at him and right then she didn't trust herself to do that.

"Kel?"

She didn't want to look at him.

And yet she did. With a pang she realised she wanted nothing more. No matter how awful she would feel she wanted to look him in the eye and see that he was alive and breathing and healing. She had to see with her own eyes that she hadn't destroyed him.

Kelly lifted her gaze. Her eyes met Ed's and she forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, going on to study his face and how he stood there on the other side of the threshold, how he carried himself and balanced his weight. With the swift ease that came with years of practise and experience she studied every little detail but it did little to relieve the pain she was feeling. If anything it only made her feel that much worse.

Claire had done an amazing job, as usual, and Kelly wasn't surprised in the least by that. The bruises were all but gone and his left arm showed no signs of injury at all. His breathing was steady and measured with no hitch or struggle. For all intents and purposes Ed looked just fine. But Kelly didn't feel better because she knew it had been more than physical. Not just for Ed but for all of them, that much was true, but standing there looking at him she remembered backhanding him across the face, pinning him to the wall, twisting his arm behind his back, slamming her foot into his stomach, breaking his ribs and dislocating his shoulder. She remembered trying to kill him.

"Hey." His voice was soft, practically a whisper. It snapped her out of her dark reverie and Kelly admonished herself silently. "Kel, are you—"

"Coffee?" Without thinking she had offered him the mug and for a couple of seconds he hesitated, unsure, before he took it with a quiet muttering of thanks, obviously a little thrown by the gesture but not wanting to reject it. She felt terrible for that because he looked lost and she had made him feel that way. "Come in," she said to him then, her own voice quiet and a little sheepish, backing away from the door so he could cross the threshold if he wanted to. If nothing else it gave her the opportunity to turn away and screw her eyes shut, allowing that self-resentment to crash inward powerfully. She heard the doors hiss closed and with a glance back over her shoulder she saw he had accepted her invitation.

Kelly had made her way back to the couch but didn't sit, instead standing there knitting her hands without even realising that she was doing it. When she did she stopped herself instantly. Ed knew she only did that when she was feeling self-conscious.

"Do you want to sit?"

God, she didn't know how to act. What to say, what to do, how to feel. All of it was a muddle, a tangle of uncertainty. She hated it. More than hated it. As Ed nodded his head quietly and accepted the fresh invitation, crossing the room to sit at the other end of the couch, she tried to remember a time when she had ever felt this awkward around him. She came up short. Never in all her time knowing him had she felt like this, or been so silent, so unsure and at a loss. Even after all that had happened with their divorce she hadn't been this insecure, she hadn't been afraid to look him in the eye or be in close proximity with him. It had hurt, certainly, and she had felt terrible for what she had done, but standing there in that moment all of that felt like nothing in comparison.

Kelly realised she was still standing and lowered herself to her end of the couch as smoothly as she could, trying not to do so too quickly because that would draw attention to the motion. Her blanket was half-dropped from the back of the couch and for a moment she was tempted to pull it around herself but she resisted the impulse, no matter how strong it was.

"How are you?"

She had meant to ask him that first but Ed had beaten her to it. Of course he had. Of course that was why he had come as well. Kelly allowed herself a moment to feel even more terrible than she already had and then she lifted her gaze and met his eye, if only briefly. "Fine," she said, hearing the lie and knowing instantly that he would too. Before he could call her on it, his brow already beginning to furrow, she went on, "When did Claire discharge you from sick bay?" Suddenly she wished she had gotten herself a glass of water.

Ed looked down into the coffee she had given him. "This morning," he told her, looking up at her again. In that moment of renewed eye contact she saw that he had wanted to give her space and had held off as long as he could before coming here. He hadn't wanted to disturb her, or upset her, but there was something else as well. It took her a moment but she saw it in the slightest crease of his brow and the subtlest downward turn of his mouth.

He felt guilty. Ed felt guilty.

Having to blink her eyes rapidly she turned her face away, clearing her throat as quietly and casually as she could as she rose from the couch and crossed back to the synthesiser. The glass of water was cool in her hands and did a fairly good job of steadying them as she stood there with her back to him for a while.

Of course he felt guilty. Kelly couldn't even be angry with him for it and she admonished herself again for not anticipating it. Ed Mercer had a remarkable capacity for self-reproach, for taking all of the blame and responsibility and piling it all on his own shoulders. Sharing the burden never occurred to him for long and part of her had always admired that about him but it had always worried her as well. It had played a part in the collapse of their marriage but it was the mental and emotional toll it took in times and situations like this that concerned her more than anything, the lasting psychological damage it might do. No one person was meant to take so much onto themselves, humans were not designed to bear so much alone.

Kelly set the empty glass back on the counter after draining it in its entirety and it was only then that she heard him speak her name. When she turned her head she realised he had risen from the couch and followed her across the room. She turned the rest of her body, facing him properly, and went back to wringing her hands. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter that he would recognise the motion because it was the only thing keeping her from reaching for him with them and Kelly didn't feel like she deserved to even try.

"Kel."

Part of her wanted to tell him to stop calling her that, because that was his fond and familiar name for her and she didn't feel like she deserved it right then. The same part of her wanted to tell him to stop looking at her like that, like his heart was breaking for her instead of himself when he had more right to feel pained in more ways than one. Kelly wanted to tell him that she didn't deserve any of it because that thing inside of her had tried to kill him and she hadn't been strong enough to stop it.

But the words wouldn't come.

Instead her hands stilled and then one of them lifted, seemingly of its own accord, rising to reach for his face almost as if there was a part of her that suddenly couldn't quite believe he was standing there in front of her and she had to touch him to know that he was real. But more than anything Kelly just had to know that he was here, in this moment, here with her, and that she hadn't lost him forever.

Because no matter what she told him and everyone around them, no matter what she tried to tell herself, she still—

Kelly froze, her hand close to his face but not quite there, fear stilling every inch of her. Because what if he shied away? What if he flinched? What if his breathing caught and he paled, even if only by a fraction?

What if she had gone too far? What if she really had pushed him away, once and for all?

Kelly couldn't know for sure but right then, standing there so close to him and yet feeling so very far away, she thought her heart might have been breaking.

Her hand was so close to him but it felt like there were miles separating them and Ed couldn't bear it. After all that had happened, all that they had been through, it was the proverbial straw that would break the camel's back and he couldn't stand it. The sight of her standing there frozen in place, suddenly more afraid than he had ever seen her in all the years that they had known one another, was enough to break his heart. And it was too much.

Ed reached up with his own hand and caught hers, wrapping his fingers around it gently and with care, not wanting to startle her, almost like she was a wild animal. In the same moment he stepped towards her, closing the gap between them, but doing so slowly so she wouldn't feel cornered. Ed knew why she had frozen, why she was hesitating, and he wanted her to know that she was wrong. He wanted her to know that there was nothing that that thing inside her could have done to make him fear her. Ed couldn't even imagine a reality in which such a thing was possible and he needed Kelly to understand that.

Still holding on to her hand he lifted his other and did exactly what she had been intending to do. Her skin was smooth and warm and he brushed his thumb softly over the curve of her cheekbone before he lightly stroked her hair back over her ear. His touch slid down to her jaw and lingered there as he held her eyes, dreading the idea of her dropping her gaze and shrinking away from him in even the smallest sense.

But she didn't.

Kelly kept looking at him as he looked at her and he felt relief begin to build up inside of him. There was a shimmering quality to her eyes that he recognised that threatened to crush that relief down though and he frowned, shaking his head. He knew that look. Ed knew the guilt and the pain that he was seeing in her eyes and he wanted to tell her that it didn't belong there. He wanted to tell her that she had done everything that she could, she had done everything a person could do in the impossible situation in which she had found herself, if not more. Ed had so many things he wanted to tell her but in that moment, holding her hand and touching her jaw and standing so close to her, he couldn't think of a single word to convey any of it.

And what he wanted to do more than anything, he couldn't. Because it was crossing a line that she had drawn in the sand between them. And because he was terrified of losing her.

When he leaned closer to her he pressed the kiss to her cheek instead, lingering there and feeling the way her whole body shuddered, hearing the way her breathing caught. Without looking he knew she had closed her eyes.

Her other arm went around him then and he stepped into her properly, breaking the kiss from her cheek so she could bury her face against his neck, all but melting into him. In the years that they had known one another he could count on one hand with fingers to spare the number of times that she had done this, the times when she had come so close to falling apart at the seams.

Kelly had always been the stronger one, the toughest of them. And those things had used that against her.

Against them.

"I love you." His voice was whisper-quiet and soft, and he turned his head so his cheek was resting against her hair. She shuddered against him again and held him even tighter, almost as if she had been afraid to really hold him before. She had been worried about hurting him again. But it hadn't been her before. It had looked like her and sounded like her and she had been trapped in there somewhere but it hadn't been his Kelly Grayson. Not even for a second.

Ed had known that the entire time but Kelly hadn't. She couldn't believe it. He felt that in the way she trembled against him, the way she fought to keep the tears at bay. He felt it in every shaking breath that raced in and out of her, and the way her heart hammered so close to his own. He felt it in the way she clutched at him like a woman who was deathly afraid of drowning.

But he wouldn't let that happen. Ed would help Kelly keep her head above water even if it meant letting himself drown instead. Something told him that she knew that and the grief he could feel wracking her frame now was as much to do with that as anything else that had happened. She knew him too well, if such a thing were possible. But that was a two way street. And that was why he had come, why he hadn't been able to stay away, because he had known she would tear herself apart here in her solitude if she was left alone long enough to do so.

If their positions were reversed she would have done the exact same thing for him and Ed knew that as surely as he knew his own name. He didn't doubt it for so much as a second. They were a team. They were in this together, and they were stronger together. No matter what.

Kelly wasn't sure how long exactly they had stood like that, just how much time had passed with her all but folded into Ed's arms. He had held her while she cried and hated herself every second of it because she was stronger than that and she had never liked to fall apart. Even in front of the one person she trusted more than anyone else in her entire life she did not like to lose her composure and come apart at the seams. She was strong, she was tough, she was collected and in control at all times.

Except she wasn't. If nothing else this recent situation had shown them all just how easy it was to lose something so simple, something they all took for granted. Control was a precious thing and she had had hers well and truly stripped away from her, just like Talla and Bortus and so many others throughout the ship. They had been used by those creatures and made to do things they never would have dreamed of doing otherwise. Kelly couldn't imagine she was the only one who felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. Not just thinking about it either, but remembering it. And vividly.

She lifted her gaze from the mug in her hands and looked to Ed. His head was turned and at first she thought he was staring at the coffee table, unremarkable though it was, before it occurred to her that he wasn't really seeing it. He was lost in thought, looking at nothing at all, or at least not anything outside of his own mind.

At some point they had moved back to the couch, Kelly suspecting Ed had been the one to steer them in that direction, each of them reclaiming their respective ends though there was much less distance between them now. She was glad for that. It had felt so alien before, so cold and unnatural. Now they were sitting close enough to one another that she could make out all the tiny details in his expression that she had committed to memory long ago, making a mental catalogue so that she would always know just what he was thinking, just what he was feeling, and how intensely. That intimate knowledge had helped her countless times over the course of her time serving aboard the Orville, just as it helped her now.

Because she knew he was replaying it all in his mind, from start to finish. Ed was replaying it all so he could see where he had gone wrong and how he might have done things differently to change the outcome. Kelly's heart started to hurt as she watched the furrow in his brow deepen just a fraction, just enough to tell her that he thought he had found a misstep or a stumble that somehow put him at fault.

They were sitting close enough now that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. That was exactly what she wanted, what she needed, and so that was exactly what she did. Without saying a word she lifted one arm and touched his shoulder. It was enough to stir him out of his thoughts and turn his head towards her. With his eyes finding her face she lifted her hand and used her fingers to gently brush his hair back, taking her time with the motion not only because she was still worried about hurting him but also because she had always loved to do this when they were married. Back when things had been simpler and cleaner it had been one of her favourite things to do, running her fingers through his hair like this, sometimes just to pass the time but more often than not to put him at ease for whatever reason. Sometimes it was because he was stressed after a particularly trying day at work while at others he was worrying himself sick over one concern or another. It had always helped Kelly as well, it had soothed and comforted her and made her feel that little bit more grounded and collected. It had made her feel like she belonged.

It was a simple thing, the sort of thing she had definitely taken for granted during their marriage, but watching him now she believed with all her heart that he needed the contact just as much as she did.

Ed's frown deepened for just a moment before his expression wavered and then softened and Kelly offered him a gentle smile. Weary and worn though it was it was one that he returned in kind and she saw the quiet gratitude in his. He made no move to stop her as she brushed his hair back one more time, her touch lingering, and she was grateful for that, that he allowed her to indulge a little. Just as it always had when they were together it made her feel more anchored and tethered and when she withdrew her hand, albeit slowly and somewhat reluctantly, she was able to take a deeper breath more easily than before.

"I really am sorry," she said to him then, her voice little more than a whisper.

When Ed shook his head he barely moved at all, the motion was so small and so slight. Anyone else would have missed it. "Don't apologise, Kel," he told her, and there was a warmth and a kindness there. "Not to me."

Kelly frowned. Who else should she apologise to?

"I could have stopped that from happening to you but I didn't take the chance when I had it." Surprisingly he actually smiled a little there, even if only for a moment. "You were smarter than me."

She understood what he meant then. He was talking about the moment when she had injected him, catching him off guard and going against his wishes. Dropping her gaze she asked, "You really didn't see that coming?" When she angled her gaze up towards his face again she saw his smile had returned.

"I should have," he said, shifting just enough to take his mug from the table where he had set it down. "I don't know why I didn't." He looked into her eyes. "Like I said, you were smarter than me."

It was Kelly's turn to shake her head. "You had a lot on your mind."

Ed could have argued with her then but for whatever reason he chose not to and instead drank from the mug. There was the smallest grimace on his face when he lowered the mug and set it back on the table and without a word she offered her own to him again. Hers was hot, freshly synthesised, while his had likely cooled too much to be palatable. With the slightest smile of gratitude and only a moment of hesitation he took it and sipped from the rim.

Kelly narrowed her eyes, once again studying the tiniest shifts in his expression. "You still do," she said. When he looked at her and said nothing she gave a nod of her head, indicating his own in the process. "There's still a lot going on in there." She could see it in his eyes as much as anything else. A lot was an understatement.

Ed's sigh was quiet but it was weighted with the countless concerns that were tumbling through his mind, far too many for any one person to keep track of. With his free hand he rubbed at his face, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his closed eyelids before he briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah," was all he said when he finally spoke, but Kelly counted it as a victory anyway because more often than not it was close to impossible to get him to admit there was anything bothering him at all.

"Talk to me."

He turned his head and met her gaze but she didn't smile because it was the wrong time, because all of those things gnawing away at him inside did not warrant smiles and easy outs. They were tricky and complicated and painful. So very painful. She knew that because she was feeling them too. Kelly wouldn't cheapen all of those things by smiling at him, no matter how much she wished it could be that simple.

Ed shifted in his seat but it wasn't to put any kind of distance between them, instead he shuffled that little bit closer and turned a fraction more towards her. Kelly noted he was careful with the coffee in his hand as he did so, not wanting to spill any on the couch. It was such a simple consideration but one that reminded her why she cared so much for him.

Why she loved him.

When he started to speak he didn't start where she thought he might but then she realised he was easing himself in, and when he had shifted his position on the couch he had been getting himself comfortable. "Claire says John and the others are recovering nicely. They should be out of sick bay within the next twenty-four hours."

"That's good." Kelly nodded her head and gratefully accepted the coffee mug when he offered it back to her, taking a sip from the rim, holding the mug in both hands. With a small frown of concern as she lowered the mug from her lips she asked, "What about Marcombe? Is he going to be okay?"

It was Ed's turn to nod. "He's already back on his feet. Same with Gordon." He smiled then, softly and gratefully, and Kelly could see the relief in his eyes. As the smile was fading he said, "Thank God for Claire."

Kelly's voice was quiet when she agreed with him, looking down into the coffee. "You can say that again." Where would any of them be without their Chief Medical Officer? They would have been assigned another doctor, she knew, but would they have been anywhere near as talented and driven as Claire Finn? Somehow she doubted it, and that was nothing against any other medical officer in the Fleet. It was just that as far as Kelly was concerned Claire was one of a kind and they were beyond lucky to have her. Not only had she patched up every single one of the wounded but she had formulated a way to combat and therefore defeat the parasites as well as figuring out how to successfully and harmlessly purge the toxins from the comatose victims. She was an incredible woman, to say the least.

Ed was reaching for the mug, which she let him take, as he said sombrely, "Lieutenant Rendell has requested a transfer."

Kelly's eyes lifted instantly. "Really?" There was a small pang of grief through her chest.

As he nodded, looking down into the coffee, Ed went on, "Claire tried to talk her out of it, as did a few other people, but she seems to have her heart set on it." He lifted the mug to drink but his heart wasn't in it. He was doing it just to have something to do, Kelly knew. Ed hated being completely unoccupied.

Frowning, Kelly reached out and touched his arm. "You could try talking to her?"

"I did." Ed lifted his gaze to meet hers and he shook his head briefly. "So did Gordon."

Kelly knew Ed would have done everything in his power to get Rendell to stay, to change the Lieutenant's mind and assure her that nothing that had happened during the incursion had been her fault, but the other woman obviously couldn't accept any of that. Kelly supposed she could understand. Sitting there looking at Ed in that moment she thought about how difficult she was finding it to make peace with the fact that she had done him, one person, so much harm. Rendell had almost killed Ensign Marcombe, and Gordon as well. Was it really so surprising that she couldn't bear the thought of looking either one of them in the eye after that? Even if it hadn't been her fault she obviously couldn't bring herself to believe it. Kelly sighed, lowering her touch to Ed's hand and giving it the smallest squeeze, and choosing not to say anything more on the subject. Rendell's departure would weigh on his mind for a good while, she knew.

All of this would weigh on him.

"When we lost Isaac," she said, changing the subject without going too far off track, "we couldn't find him on the cameras, or any sign that he had left the ship." Her eyes narrowed. "Someone had tampered with the footage." It wasn't a question. They also both knew who she meant by someone. Ed nodded and sipped more coffee. "The same goes for Yaphit, obviously." Her hand had slipped from his and ended up on his knee. She hadn't noticed at first but now that she had she decided to leave it there. "They were both taken over to the Discovery, and the logs wiped, obviously, and locked in that room where we found the captain, the one who started all this." Ed nodded again. Kelly paused before she went on. "They couldn't be possessed." That wasn't a question either.

"No." Ed turned his head to look at her. If he had a problem with her hand on his knee he didn't say anything about it. "Isaac for obvious reasons, and Yaphit because of his biological makeup. Or that's what we assume."

"But why not just kill him?"

Ed's brows raised. "Do you know how to kill a Gelatinous lifeform?"

Kelly actually smiled a little at that. "Good point." Her smile faded. "It was easier just to lock him away with Isaac." She almost made a remark along the lines of poor Isaac but refrained. It didn't feel like the right time to make jokes at anyone's expense.

"Right." Ed offered the coffee back to her. She took it wordlessly. "And they knew Isaac would be able to figure all of it out before anyone else as well, which was another reason to take him out of the equation. And he hadn't figured it out by the time they lured him over to the Discovery under false pretences. They said they needed his help accessing the last of the logs. Yaphit too."

The creatures had been alarmingly clever, not to mention covert. For such unassuming looking things when without a host they had known exactly which angles to play them all from and how to get just what they wanted. Kelly had to take a sip of coffee to shift the bad taste that had threatened to creep up onto the back of her tongue.

"The kids were never a target." Ed was watching her and she suspected he knew exactly why she had sipped the coffee in that moment. He was pushing the conversation on to keep her from getting lost in the thoughts that had bubbled up in her mind. "That was Isaac's theory anyway. They were too young, and—"

"Too weak." Kelly knew exactly where he had been going with that.

Ed hesitated and then nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm glad we got a few of them off the ship for all of that anyway," Kelly found herself saying, tipping the mug in her hands to watch the liquid shift this way and that. It was a poor attempt at nonchalance that she couldn't have felt even if she hadn't been directly involved in all of that. She hadn't found out exactly what Claire had done with the kids when she had returned to the ship but she could only hope she had asked them to stay in the shuttle until someone came to collect them. It was for the best, for Ty's sake especially, tough kid though he was, if they hadn't seen that aftermath.

"Yeah," Ed said quietly, barely above a whisper. "That's something."

Kelly lifted her gaze, brow furrowed with a frown, and looked at him. He was staring through the coffee table again, lost somewhere in his mind once more, and though it took her a moment to put two and two together she thought she knew where he had gone. She had been there when it happened, thoroughly subdued in her own body and mind though she had been, as far from being in control as a person could be, but she had been there. She had seen it. And heard it. And felt it. Kelly still felt it now but she knew that was just a drop in the ocean compared to what Ed had to be feeling by comparison.

"That's not your fault." When he didn't look her way or show any other signs of hearing her, Kelly set the mug down on the table and moved even closer to him, bringing her other hand up to turn his head for him. She wanted to be able to look into his eyes when she said it again. "That was not your fault. Do you hear me?" She kept her hand on his face, her other still on his knee, looking directly into his eyes and feeling her heart threatening to break at the pain she saw there.

"She was trying to help me," he said to her, his voice still very quiet but thick with emotion, the kind of emotion he would never show outside of a private space like this. Kelly knew she was one of the only people he would be so raw and so real with, one of the only people he felt he could show such things to without losing face. She wanted to tell him that his crew would never think any less of him for wavering or stumbling, she wanted to tell him that every single one of them respected him for the man that he was, every part of him, but in that moment she wasn't sure he would be able to hear it.

"She was doing her job," Kelly reminded him, nodding her head a little.

"And they killed her for it."

"Yes. They killed her. Those things." She took her hand from his knee and brought it up to his face in a mirror to the first. "They didn't need an excuse and you did nothing to push them to that. They did it because they wanted to, not because you did anything wrong." Kelly could hear the way her own voice was getting thicker and a little shakier as her emotions threatened to get the better of her. She took a moment to take a breath and swallow against the lump threatening to form in her throat. "It wasn't your fault, Ed. None of it." She let those words sink in for a moment. "Do you hear me?"

He heard her but it was one thing to hear her and another altogether to believe her and Kelly knew that was a much bigger ask. She felt him nod rather than saw it, the motion was so small, but she could see in his eyes and the crease in his brow, the downward turn at the corners of his mouth, that he might never believe what she had said.

Kelly would just keep reminding him. No matter how many times she had to tell him, however many times he needed to hear it, she would be right there by his side. Right where she belonged. No matter what.