Hi everyone–my weekend is going to be bonkers so I'm posting ahead of time. Happy 2019, let's hope it comes with an impeachment…

He wished he were back underwater. Or still trapped under the avalanche. Or stuck in that damn shark submarine Professor Calculus had built. Breathing had been easier in all of those situations.

"It looks like there was a cave-in, probably caused by an earthquake," Qoya said. "We might be at a dead end. Unless…"

Spots appeared in Tintin's vision, and he went down on one knee, letting his head dangle. Qoya turned to him. "You OK?"

"Fine," he managed to stammer. He yanked at his shoelace for cover. Qoya turned around again.

Captain Haddock knelt next to him. "What… is… going… on…" he hissed between his teeth. Tintin could only shake his head, still gasping for breath. Tears pricked at his eyes. He'd never experienced fear, panic like this.

"Snowy and I found the emergency exit!" Qoya called excitedly from a narrow tunnel in the wall.

"Splendid, we'll catch you in a minute," Captain Haddock hollered, then turned back to Tintin. "Talk. Now."

Tintin sat down, but he couldn't form the words.

It had started the instant Qoya took his hand. It made no sense at all. He'd grabbed her hand several times before, but when she reached for his–in that casual, almost thoughtless way–he'd felt…

Trapped. That was it.

The walls seemed to close in even tighter. He was sure his windpipe was physically contracting.

Images flashed into his mind, unbidden. Qoya and Tintin, holding hands. Qoya and Tintin, at the cinema. Qoya and Tintin, going for an evening walk.

Qoya and Tintin, settling down… in one place…

It was totally irrational, he knew that. And unfair; Qoya had done nothing to warrant these thoughts. And, it was out of his control. And too much.

"Did you hear me?" the Captain had apparently been talking to him this whole time. "What is WRONG with you?"

"I think I'm having a panic attack," Tintin whispered.

"Why aren't you overcome with joy?!" the Captain demanded. "That girl is head over heels for you, and you..." he stopped short at Tintin's expression. "...oh."

"I'm being s-selfish," Tintin stammered. "What was I thinking? That she'd come with me? Follow me to–I don't know, Palestine, or wherever I end up next? If I'd even want her to come?"

"She never..."

"Or that I'd just, you know, stay here in Peru? Forever?"

"You don't…"

"I can't do this."

"Stop it." The Captain massaged his temple. "Blistering barnacles, just stop…"

"Well, what do you suggest? Should I just quit my life now, propose, and buy us a house with a white picket fence? One we'll never leave for the rest of our days?"

"Shut your mouth. You'll hate yourself for saying these things."

"I'm serious!" Tintin pulled at his hair. "It's not fair to her! I'm not prepared to stay here, and it's not fair to ask her to come with me when I don't really know how I feel!"

"You don't really–" the Captain swore. "How can you not know? You have the self-awareness of… of one of these rocks."

"That's not what I mean!" Tintin swore too. "I like her, sure. But enough to want her to move across the world for me? Enough to settle down and stop adventuring?"

"Who's asking you to do all that? Why can't you just–appreciate the moment for what it is?"

"Because I can't! Unless I'm prepared to ask her to come with me, I can't–I just can't! And I can't ask her to come unless, you know, unless I really know!"

"Know what?"

"How I feel!"

"We're back at this?! Tintin, you–"

"No, I mean–how I REALLY feel."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"I mean–am I prepared to die for her? That's the only way it would be worth it. And if I'm not, it's just not fair for me to keep leading her on like this. Unless I know. That I'd die for her."

Even as he spoke, he felt the sheer, nonsensical, stupidity of his words. He was spouting lunacy, and he still couldn't catch his breath. The Captain gaped, speechless. That was a first.

Then, Qoya cleared her throat as she emerged from the shadows.

Sorry… sorry… sorry...