I spied Kurtis in the hallway, examining a puzzle box set decoratively on the table. Drawing a deep breath, I folded my arms and then casually walked over to him. Leaning on the wall next to him, I spoke.
"Kurtis."
"Hey, Lara." He glanced up, but quickly returned his attention back to the box that, I noticed with a raised eyebrow, he was dangerously close to solving. I watched his fingers feel and kneed the box, his teeth protruding slightly over his bottom lip as he bit it in concentration.
"I was thinking – you could stay here, if you wanted."
Another glance.
"Huh?"
"You could stay here. Move in. Until you get yourself sorted out. We could work together – we made quite a team before."
Kurtis' concentration was finally pulled away from the puzzle box, and he set it down on the table, though he remained holding it. He looked at me, mildly surprised.
"Lara, I don't know..."
I interrupted, speaking a little too quickly to conserve my earlier show of indifference. "Well, you're welcome, and you said that you didn't know what else to do."
He sighed and turned away.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Why not?" I pushed off the wall and stepped towards him, but he turned back and I faltered under his sudden dissatisfied gaze. His raised his voice, barking his words at me.
"You want me to stay because you're scared to be alone."
"I'm sorry?"
"You're afraid to go back into danger alone, and you want me around to look after you."
"Kurtis," I laughed disbelievingly, uncomfortably, "we made a good team! I just thought that since – "
"You just thought that you could solve everyone's problems by partnering up with me." He looked to the floor and took a couple of weary steps away. It reminded me of the way he had looked when he had told me in the airlock how Eckhardt had murdered his father. "I'm sorry, Lara, I can't stay. And you need to start trusting yourself again."
Ending the conversation, he marched away, still moving stiffly even though he had lost the need for his crutches. Sighing and casting my eyes to the floor, I turned my attention back to the puzzle box. Picking it up, I fingered it, massaging it into the final few manipulations of the solution. It snapped open, the lid adorned with a small mirror, reflecting my tired, confused eyes.

That evening, we were all congregated in the television room, except for Bryce. For some time our film had been interrupted by cries of frustration, groans, and cursing, coming from the direction of the training arena. As a particularly tense moment was overwritten by a cry of, "Oh, Christine, don't do this to me!" I sighed, deciding that Bryce wanted someone to go and see what was wrong, and shoved the cushion I'd been cuddling at Kurtis, sitting at the other end of the sofa. He gave me the barest of glances, his attention focused on the screen, whilst accepting the cushion, propping it across the leg that was bent across the empty seat between us and leaning on it. I left the room and marched to the control desk, where Bryce was banging his head against a monitor.
"Bryce, what's wrong?" I demanded.
"We have a virus," he said, tapping away wearily at the keyboard. "Nothing's working properly, Christine won't do anything I tell her to."
"Christine?"
"The network server."
"I thought that was called Lara."
"Only while we were going out," he said, not even looking up.
Hurt, I flopped back against the desk and folded my arms. "I see."
Bryce glanced up and pulled a face somewhere between boredom and annoyance.
"Oh, don't be like that." The computer beeped, and Bryce threw up his hands in frustration. He sighed and let them fall back to the keyboard. Turning to me, he said, "We could be here a while."
I scowled and pouted, still upset that he'd change the name of his precious machine, and he reached over and wheeled an office chair towards me. He held it steady whilst I collapsed into it and then set up another virus scan, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk whilst he waited for it to finish.
"Film good?" he asked conversationally.
"I don't know, I couldn't hear half of it."
"Sorry." Bryce smiled sheepishly.
There was silence for a while, broken only by the whir of the computers and the occasional sound of the cooling fans kicking in. My companion reached over and took my hand, holding it in the gap between our chairs.
"Spoken to Kurtis yet?" I looked at him, broken out of my mindless concentration.
"Hmm?"
"Hillary said you were thinking of asking Kurtis to stay."
"Oh." I scratched my forehead with my free hand. "Yes, I mentioned it."
"Has he given you an answer yet?"
"No, no, not yet," I lied.
"You should ask him again. Do you good, having someone to watch your back. Anyway, you like him, don't you?"
"Yes, he seems a good friend."
"Well, then. Ask him to stick around."
Bryce's face was cast in shadow and light in the dim room lit only by the computer monitors, and I watched him for a moment as he stared mindlessly at the screens, still absently holding my hand. Try as I might, I just could not understand us – why we so content to be as we were. We still flirted, we were still closer to each other than probably to anyone else, but there wasn't an ounce of possession between us. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, tired after all the training I'd been putting in lately.
I was broken out of my relaxation by an electronic beep and Bryce pulling his hand away to turn back to the computer. Slamming his hands down on either side of the keyboard, he swore.
"Bugger!"
I leant forward and scooted my chair closer to the desk.
"It's still there," Bryce explained. He pecked at the keys furiously, lines of code scrolling over the screens and his eyes darting left and right, scanning for telltale signs of gibberish that only he understood. Standing up, I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"I'm going to bed," I said. "Don't stay up too late, you can fix it in the morning." He paid no attention, and I walked away, yawning.