Jake watched her with wide blue eyes, sitting on his bed in the bare-white room he now shared with Jace. The room wasn't much to look at—two simple beds with black metal head and footboards covered in matching green quilts, two nightstands, a walk-in closet containing a few meager possessions, and an uncovered picture window that cool winter sunlight filtered through to cast shallow shadows on the plush gray carpet. A blank canvas. A new beginning on a new world. For two little boys, it seemed wrong. The places where children lived should be bright and fun, full of life and energy with color on the walls, artwork, and maybe flowers on the nightstand. A room could always be improved by the introduction of flowers.

Trance smiled and held out the pen-shaped medical scanner as he reached for it. A game she'd played with him yesterday during the two home visits she'd given. Smiling back, he ran it over himself, starting with his head the way she'd shown him and she turned the screen on her hand comm so he could see. "Did you sleep well last night? Not too much pain?"

"Yeah..." He fidgeted and turned to look out the window as he handed her back the scanner without looking at the results. They showed his body was healing on schedule, but Maria had spoken of nightmares, and Jace too sported puffy eyes with generous dark circles beneath: signs of interrupted sleep. Invisible wounds. Trance looked over the room again, eyes landing on Maria, silent in the doorway, clad in a simple pair of black slacks and a blue turtleneck sweater, gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Worried wrinkles stretched out from her eyes and pursed lips.

Bare walls and stuffy, heated air wouldn't cut it today; they could all use a dose of sunshine and fresh air. The sun had been elusive yesterday, hiding behind clouds that stopped short at threatening freezing rain, but it was out in force today. She kept her gaze on Maria as she said, "If it is alright with Mom, would you like to go outside with your sister and cousin?"

Maria raised an eyebrow, casting a nervous glance out the bedroom window to the outline of a distant, snow-capped mountain range. "If you think it's safe."

Jake's eyes widened, his eyebrows raised to his bangs, and he looked back and forth between his mother and Trance in quick succession, a smile tugging at his lips.

Trance winked when she caught his eye again. "I think if we bundle up, it will benefit everyone."

The smile broke through and he turned to his mother. "Please, Mom, I wanna see. Ollie won't shut up about everything."

Maria stepped into the room, her worried frown changing into a loving smile, a look that said that, in this moment, she would give him anything he asked for. "Okay, for a little while."

Trance packed up her medical kit as Maria moved to the closet. She stood when she finished. "I'll go get ready myself."

The open living space, sporting basic living room furniture and the same white and gray color scheme as the bedroom, was undecorated save for two framed photographs over the fireplace and a crate of toys and games nearby where the children had played last night. There weren't any boxes to show a family had just moved in. They'd stashed everything away within minutes of arriving, the space much too large for their few possessions.

Out of the coat closet, she pulled her new knee-length, blue jacket. A white faux-fur lining with thread-thin heating coils woven throughout would keep her warm in temperatures much colder than the negative-five the weather panel beside the sliding glass door reported. As unpleasantly cold as it was outside, she welcomed the winter weather, a sign her sun was restoring traditional weather patterns.

She watched the backyard through the door as she tugged on her hat and gloves and slipped her feet into a pair of fur-lined black boots. Snow hadn't fallen yet and the sun's bright but cool rays still dominated, but every hour more clouds rolled in. Tonight it would snow, she could feel it.

Near a small greenhouse, no larger than a tool shed, Jace ran on the packed frozen ground, bundled up in winter wear so that she could see only his nose and forehead. He stopped and jumped up and down shouting, voice muffled through the glass, "Here, here, kick it over here!"

"I'm working on it. Cool your jets," Ollie shouted back and kicked the ball in his general direction. It went wide and Harper dove for it, his boots kicking up wet soil and yellowed scrub grass. He went down on his hands and bottom, caking his gloves in mud, then popped back up again. It was too late. Jace had snagged the ball and was already halfway to his goal: an empty grey cargo box laid on its side. Two against one turned out to be poor odds for the self-proclaimed master of soccer. Jace scored as Harper wiped the mud onto his cargo pants, but there was already so much there that Trance found it hard to believe it did any good.

Jace jumped up and down, arms flailing above him. "Goooooooaaaaaaaaaaal!"

Ollie rushed in for a high-five and their wide smiles and laughter filled her heart, serving as a reminder of the resilience of children. She turned at a rustling movement behind her. Garrin approached, shoulders hunched, pulling a pair of leather gloves off his hands.

He watched out the door beside her for a moment as he tucked one glove into the other, then removed a black-knitted cap from his head and set the gloves inside. He shoved both into the pocket of his jacket and took it off. When he spoke, his tone was kind, his words careful. "It's been a long time since I've seen the kids play like that."

"Children are amazing. They can find beauty when things are ugly and joy amid uncertainty; children are often tougher than we give them credit for, I can learn a lot from yours."

He reached past her and hung his jacket in the coat closet then slipped his boots off by the door. He'd been out in the community looking for work this morning, not wasting time making sure he could provide for his family. Maria, too, had made inquiries but had stayed at home today to make sure Jake had a parent on hand.

Icy blue eyes studied and her she was certain didn't miss much. Where they'd been filled with suspicion before, something different filled them today, something softer. "We always wanted more kids—when we were younger. We wanted to be surrounded by children, but New Burke wasn't the place for it and, now, it's too late."

Outside, Harper was making a run for his goal, the kids chasing him, their happy screams unintelligible. At one point, Harper too had implied, veiled behind jokes about owning planets full of adoring women, that he wanted a large family like he'd grown up with. Though he was an only child, he'd had a lot of cousins. She didn't know his stance on the matter now and didn't know if she wanted to ask.

A frown turned her lips as she glanced at Garrin, then looked outside again. "There are other ways to build a family and I refuse to believe it is ever too late for dreams, even if you have to go about them differently."

She shook her head to shake off the discomfort that settled on like rubber bands wrapped around her chest, the source of which she didn't want to get into. She'd never had to consider her part in the futures of her friends before—or her role in Harper's. It hadn't been in the plan, she was supposed to have returned to her people after they defeated the Abyss; return to them and lead. She had no choice now. For the first time in her life, the future loomed secretively in the shadows beyond her vision.

But, her future wasn't the concern here. "The children's home in Seefra City is looking for a handyman. I was just over there this morning speaking to the pediatrician on staff about taking over Jacob's care since there isn't a hospital to speak of yet. I do not think they can pay much, but they will pay."

Garrin turned his full attention to her. "I'm sorry I treated you the way I did back on the ship. It's not much of an excuse, but we were under a lot of stress and hadn't slept in two days. Harper mentioned you're recovering from a long illness and aren't technically on duty, but you helped Jake without a second thought, and you keep helping us, even during your vacation time. We can't ever repay you."

She shrugged, shifting from foot to foot, wringing her gloved hands and glancing over her shoulder to see if Maria and Jake were on their way yet, but no one was there to rescue her from attention or praise right now. "I am a physician, it is what I do, I don't need any repayment, your gratitude is enough—it is our mission on Andromeda to help those who are in need. Your children will grow up on a world where they have a chance at a brighter future. They can do anything now, and that makes it all worth it."

No matter how hard life is sometimes.

"It won't be easy."

"No, it won't. It never is, but I have faith that you and Maria can adapt to life here, and even thrive. It does not look it now, but Tarn Vedra will be a beautiful world, a world of hope, and you will not be the only family who comes here to escape dire situations. Those who come will need people who understand. You can be the vanguard."

He wrinkled his brow and looked at her the way people did when she made pronouncements about their character they didn't agree with. She'd seen it plenty of times on Beka and Harper's faces. Both found it difficult to see beyond their gritty pasts, lived mostly in the gray areas of the Universe, and believe themselves capable of greatness. But not every hero could be a Dylan Hunt, and not everyone destined for great things lived their life in full sight of the sun. Sometimes, the shadows shaped the hero, tempered him like steel in a forge. Sometimes, someone lost in darkness only needed to be shown the light. Despite Harper and Beka's complaints, she thought Garrin might be one of those people. There was something inside of him, something in the steadfast way he cared for his family.

Then again, like flowers in a room, she believed everyone could be improved by the introduction of hope.

"I'm no leader."

She shrugged and dismissed his proclamation. A certainty gripped her as if she could see his path the way she had used to see possible futures. She tried to find her sun in the sky outside, but it was over the house, not visible from the window. "Perhaps not, perhaps in time, or perhaps one day you will have no choice."

A shuffling of footsteps saved her from having to elaborate. They both turned as Jake and Maria approached, Jake hidden under layers of warm clothing the same as Jace, his cheeks rosy red as they peeked out between a knitted hat and fluffy blue scarf. Trance couldn't help the giggle that escaped and beside her Garrin chuckled, the first sound of mirth she'd heard from him. The smile changed his face, softened the edges, and he looked more like the man in the photograph on the wall than the one who'd stepped off Beka's ship three days ago.

"Think you've got enough clothes on?" he asked, voice still gruff.

Maria shot Garrin a sharp look that shushed him on the spot. "He needs to stay warm and it's below freezing out there. He can't run around like the other two."

Father and son shared a look and Jake rolled his eyes. Trance pressed her lips together to keep her expression neutral despite laughter threatening to slip out. She'd never spent much time around human children before, much less a full family, and it was refreshing in a way she hadn't expected.

With feigned seriousness and another smile at his son, Garrin waded further into the deep end, reminding Trance so much of Harper that she wondered, ridiculously, if pushing boundaries was a human male trait. "Well, he'll be plenty warm in that getup."

"Maybe we should go outside now. It is not very warm, but the sun is out and fresh air always helps," she said diplomatically. She pushed open the sliding glass door and the icy air hit her like a wall. She stepped out, making room for the rest of the family, and fumbled around the inside of her sleeve to find her jacket's on-switch, the movement awkward in gloves. In an instant, warmth enveloped her.

Jake moved beside her, blinking in the sunlight, eyes darting from one place to another as if trying to absorb everything in an instant. His first and only glimpse of Tarn Vedra had been yesterday in the grey early morning hours, the sun a slight pink glow on the horizon. Otherwise, he'd seen little more than what was visible from his bedroom window. "It's so bright."

Her heart ached as she looked to the sky, tracing the path of a mountain crow as it flew across high clouds that stretched across the blue canvas like spun sugar. Her sun was behind her, beginning its slow afternoon descent toward the horizon. She didn't have to look or observe shadows on the ground to know where in the sky it rested, or where in relation to it she would find the faint outline of Ione's moon. Just as she could sense the changing weather patterns. It was as if the tiniest thread of her connection to her sun, to this little solar system she loved so much, remained.

Perhaps it did. No one knew the ins and outs of her condition, but imagined or not, she clung to it.

"There are no buildings to block out the sun," Maria explained, saving her from needing to say anything.

Ollie noticed them and bounded back towards the house with a shout, Jace following close behind. "Jake! You're outside!"

"Ollie, Jace, how about you take Jake around and show him the yard? Slowly." Maria said, with a look to Trance to make sure it was alright.

She gave her a nod and turned her attention to Jake. "A slow walk will be good for you."

Ollie extended an arm to her brother and he took it. Jace pulled up on the other side and, together, they began a halted exploration of their new home. Harper watched the children go as he approached the porch, soccer ball tucked under his arm. Maria and Garrin took a seat on the top step. She eyed the mud covering him and he looked down and shrugged then tried in vain to wipe more of it off.

He gave up when he only smeared what was there around. "It's about time for me to head back to the bar. I promised the girls we'd chat this afternoon about the future and I need to, uh, clean up a bit first."

Sounded like he would rather see a back-drift dentist, but he'd scoffed at the idea of selling the place yesterday when she'd asked. He acted as if owning the bar had been a means to an end on Seefra, just a chance to make a stable income and keep his head above the water while they worked to restore Andromeda, but his actions said otherwise. It'd been a large part of his Seefran life the last year they'd been there. It'd been their headquarters planetside. He was a mudfoot—a planet dweller—through and through. While he loved Andromeda, she understood he needed to know he had a place to return where natural gravity pressed down on his body and soil dirtied his boots. Someplace with wide open skies, rainy days, and oceans to surf in. Tarn Vedra was the only other planet he'd ever called home, and the bar tied him to it.

She glanced at Garrin and Maria. "Will you be alright for a few minutes?"

Maria gave her an indulgent smile and a nod as if she were in on a secret, or Trance was a teenager trying to sneak a few moments alone with a boy. You kids have fun, wink wink.

Harper remained oblivious.

She ignored Maria, just as she'd ignored Beka's knowing looks yesterday and turned to Harper. "I'll walk you out…" She wrinkled her nose at the state of his clothing and he stuck his tongue out, setting a wonderful example for the children. "Around the house, though, no need to track all that mud through it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Maria looking to Garrin with a raised eyebrow, the smile growing, and she wondered how many people beyond Maria, Garrin, Beka, Rhade, and Rommie had come to their own conclusions about her feelings for Harper. Surely only that small group. She often advised against lying to one's self, but it was more comfortable to think her heart wasn't on display for the Universe to see than to realize her deeply personal feelings weren't as hidden as she thought they were.

She looked to the sky again toward Ione's moon, a hint of sorrow and guilt plucking at her heartstrings.

Find someone.

She had found someone, but she'd lost Ione in the process. It wasn't supposed to work that way. Why had the Universe decided she must have one or the other when she had so much love to share?

But the Universe decided nothing. The Universe was an ever-expanding result of choices, forever branching out, forever pushing people towards any number of destinies. Her choices had led her to this point. She had chosen the greater good over her desires and personal well-being. As her mother raised her to do.

"Sure you won't come back with me?" Harper's voice broke through her thoughts. He sounded worried. She blinked the brightness of the sky from her eyes and turned to look at him, catching his eyes, narrowed and partnered with a frown. She smiled. He had a streak of dried mud on his cheek, just beneath his eye.

"It's only six clicks to the city and Doctor Janz has already agreed to take me back in his hoverpod. I will feel much better if I am here to brief him on Jacob's condition when he performs his examination." She gave his arm a pat as they rounded the front corner of the house to the front yard, complete with a white picket fence that had given Harper no end of amusement earlier. "You're more likely to find trouble before I get back than I am."

They rounded the corner and he tossed her a smile with two raised eyebrows, his patented innocent little boy look. "In two, maybe three, hours?"

"You have an alarming tendency to make people want to kill you just by opening your mouth. It worries me." She laughed it off, but a seed of truth lay buried in her words.

With one hand, he tapped in the code to open the drop pod and with the other he grasped his heart, eyes wide and face twisted in feigned pain and mock consternation. Time with the children had improved his mood, but had taken a few pot-shots at his maturity, it seemed. "You wound me."

She laughed, her eyebrows jumped, and she shook her head. He would never change, and she never wanted him to. "Just be careful."

He saluted her as he climbed inside. "No problem, mon cherie."


Trance, it turned out, could still predict the future. Though, he would attest until his dying breath, which would hopefully not be today, that he'd not gone out to find trouble, it'd been waiting for him in the form of three drunk Nietzscheans with loud mouths and grabby hands that wouldn't leave his serving girls alone. Admittedly, he may have overreacted a tiny bit. The Commonwealth had arrived and Seefra City now had law enforcement. He could have called them to deal with the situation, especially since he was both outnumbered and outsized. They would have been happy to help. If he'd been thinking just a little more clearly, he would have considered the potential damage to his body and property—both things he held dear—before he slammed his fist satisfyingly into Biceps like Barrels' jaw. He was willing to admit now that he really, really should have been using the thinking portion of his brain. But in Biceps' face, he saw Jake's torturer, the man who'd slit his mother's throat, and perpetrators of a hundred crimes against his person and sanity. It'd felt so damn good to do something about it.

The pleasure had been short-lived.

He ducked out of the way as another fist came at him. Wasn't Biceps'. He was currently engaged with a pair of brawny thugs that look like they power-lifted drop pods for a living and weren't thrilled their drinks had been thrown in their faces. It wasn't Vampire Fangs either, Biceps' right-hand man. That left Shitty Tribal Tattoo, the smallest and meanest of the three. Harper's side already sported three clean, deep cuts from Tattoo's bone blades. It stung like hell and was getting blood everywhere.

Didn't matter which one it was. They were bigger and tougher than him, but he was small and scrappy and had learned long ago how to use that to his advantage. He dove for Tattoo's knees, slammed an elbow into his kneecap with a jolt of pain, and was off before Tattoo hit the ground.

But he was already tiring from the constant onslaught of a 3v1 with foes genetically modified and bred over centuries to be superior fighters. He stumbled and Vampire took advantage of the moment of weakness by sinking his fist into Harper's stomach. Air evacuated his lungs with haste and bile rose to sting his throat. Harper swallowed it down. He had standards and didn't want to lose his lunch in front of his employees. Though it would serve these assholes right if he puked all over their nice shiny black boots. A series of strangled coughs escaped as he tried to breathe and his legs buckled beneath him. His bones rattled when they hit the sealed cement floor.

There wasn't much time to consider what had brought him to this point in his life, crumpled up on his own barroom floor, sticky, wet, and reeking of spilled alcohol. Vampire lifted him into the air by his shirt, its fabric cutting into his armpits, his legs kicking, trying desperately to make purchase on any part of Vampire's body. Wasn't much time to get comfortable there, either.

With surprising force, Vampire tossed him across the room. He flew past stunned patrons and frightened bartenders who were probably reconsidering employment at his reputable joint. Guess he needed to increase their benefits packages. Again.

Three realizations hit him the moment he crashed into one of the few tables still upright. First, the blinding rage that had compelled him to start this fight had diminished to just above his baseline undercurrent of anger and his rational brain was taking over, askance at the mess Angry Harper had gotten him into and concerned that Angry Harper had once again bitten off more than they could chew. Second, if he didn't end this soon, someone would call the authorities and then he'd have to explain to Dylan, who'd spent the entirety of his shoreleave dealing with diplomats, why he'd decided to—once again—start a civil dispute planetside. Third, and most importantly, Trance would not be happy.

He rolled off the table as it collapsed beneath his weight and into the back of a chair. An audible crack reached his ears at the same time his side screamed out with a fiery, piercing pain. Another rib biting the dust. Better amend that to, Trance was going to be really unhappy.

Staying on the ground was not an option as interesting as the new vantage point was. He bounded to his feet, grimacing as his now broken rib objected. Air filled his lungs too slowly or, at least, it seemed that way. He coughed again, a pathetic wheezing sound. Human bodies didn't make great punching bags. His foot struck something that skittered away with a familiar clatter. He shot a quick glance in its direction. His gauss gun! Somehow, in all the excitement—the primal, anger-induced, desire to inflict physical harm—he'd forgotten the weapon holstered on his side, now on the ground and resting just out of reach.

As he stretched for it, stooped over like an old man in need of a cane, a pair of women's boots attached to tight leather pants covering a very attractive bottom, kicked it. He watched it spin comically away from him as another pair of women's boots blocked him from going after it, and he wondered if his life was just one giant cosmic joke at this point. A comedy of errors.

God hates me, he'd once told Trance.

She'd looked him over with those eyes of hers and without missing a beat replied, Don't take it personally.

Hard not to when it seemed like God must be laughing at him.

After the second set of boots scuffled past, he dove for the gun, narrowly avoiding a tray hurled in his direction. He didn't stop to see whether it was meant for him, or if he'd just been collateral damage. Bright white fire, like burning lithium, lit up his vision when he hit the ground. With a grunt, he reached out blindly and his fingers closed around the butt of the gun. Success!

He rose to his feet, schooling his expression into one of strength and control—at least that was the goal. No telling how close he'd gotten as the room kept tipping to the right while blood pounded in his ears, making it almost impossible to concentrate. He wished it would stand still, it was super inconvenient of it to keep spinning like that.

After a cursory glance showed no one in his immediate vicinity, he pointed the gun to the ceiling and fired. "That's enough!"

His voice boomed in the now stunned silent room as plaster rained down around him, tickling his nose. The people he could see through the dust now that his vision had cleared watched him warily the way one might watch an escaped asylum patient. What a sight he must make, all bruised, bloodied, and covered in white plaster dust. A crazed figure with a gun. Hopefully that worked to his advantage; it wouldn't be the first time he'd played the insanity card. He found Biceps in the crowd and leveled his gun at him.

"Out. Of. My. Bar."

Vampire Fangs and Shitty Tribal Tattoo shifted cautiously toward their leader, moving like cornered wolves. Dangerous, but cowed for now. Fitting, since they were from the Lupin pride, as they'd kindly let him know moments before he'd bruised his knuckles on Biceps' jaw. Their bravado had faded away. Behind their 'tough guy' expressions, they calculated their Nietzschean honor against the threat of bodily harm and death, and he was glad he made patrons check their firearms at the door. Good thinking Past Harper. Way to save Future Harper from himself.

"I'll give you thirty seconds to get your asses out of here before I shoot."

Biceps glared for a moment longer, muscles twitching, as if he were a windup toy with the key turned too tight. He growled and nodded to the other goons, taking a step forward, shoulders back, as if they hadn't just lost face in a bar full of humans. He spit at Harper's feet as he passed.

"Worthless Kludge."

Harper's fingers twitched at the trigger, depressed it halfway, but he let them go, glaring at their backs. Murder would be a lot harder to explain to the authorities, and a lot harder to hide from Dylan.

The room brightened for a moment, sunlight pouring in through the open door, highlighting the damage before the door closed on their Nietzschean backsides. Approximately thirty pairs of eyes fell on him and his cheeks heated. He holstered his gun, and it was like he'd given permission for everyone to breathe again.

Sore and angry, he didn't want to deal with this anymore. He wanted to go back to his apartment, lick his wounds, and drown these feelings in the kind of moonshine that burned as it went down like the mature adult he was. "Everyone out, bar's closed."

A large group sped past him, a few bumping into him as they went, aggravating his injuries. A couple grumbled about spilled drinks, voices just enough above a whisper for him to hear. He un-holstered and twirled his gun, lifting an eyebrow. One by one, with narrowed eyes and shuffling steps, the rest of the patrons left. Probably lost some customers today, but there'd be more tomorrow. And the day after that.

His five bartenders, all here because they'd met earlier, stood huddled together behind the bar, staring with wide eyes.

He holstered his gun again and turned to them. "You guys okay?"

Ayla, the most outspoken of the girls and his manager, barely twenty-five with a personality like a tornado and a will to match it, spoke for them, a dark-eyed glare focused on the doorway. She brushed her tight curls away from her forehead. "Yeah, we're fine now that the trash has been taken out."

A woman after his own heart.

He stepped closer, stopping in front of the smallest, shyest of his employees—the one Biceps had grabbed. She watched with small black eyes through a fringe of straight black hair hanging in her face. "What about you, Linn?"

He followed her gaze to his gun, and then back to his face again. She bit her lip. He'd hired her off the streets a month before Andromeda had gotten out of the Seefra system. He didn't know her age for sure—likely too young to be working in a bar—but she'd been starving and looking for work, and he was a sucker for street kids. She lived with Ayla behind the bar.

"I'm okay."

She didn't look okay. None of them looked okay.

"Everyone take the rest of the day off, I'll get people in here tomorrow to deal with the mess. I'll even give you some extra to make up for tips until everything is sorted out." Each word dragged on, blending into the next. The room flashed with his heartbeat and the throbbing of his side where his t-shirt stuck to him, glued with drying blood. In his professional opinion, he'd live, but he wasn't in great shape.

Ayla stepped forward. "I don't speak for the others, but I'll stay and clean up as much as I can so we can open sooner, but, boss, you're bleeding all over the floor and that crap is hard to clean, so maybe you should go do something about it?"

"Yeah, sure. Do something about blood," he muttered and left in a fog.


Harper's hand comm pressed hard into her palm as she clutched it in her fist so that her knuckles whitened from the strain. One step, one breath. Two steps, two breaths. Her stomach churned. There were people around her, outlined in the shadows cast by the setting sun, but she didn't notice the details as she jogged through them, not bothering to apologize when she brushed shoulders and arms, their protests muffled to her ears.

There'd been blood on the floor and concern in Ayla's eyes. Not much blood, but enough. Enough to kick her overactive imagination, fueled by years of caring for the sick and injured, into full gear. The problem with having been able to see limitless possible futures her entire life was that she had a large stockpile of horror, in vivid detail, for her imagination to pull from.

His apartment came into view, the building, a hasty job done up in plaster and corrugated metal, looked even more decrepit in the shadow of the larger, more modern buildings going up around it. It would probably be torn down soon and, though Harper might have something to say about it, good riddance. The less Seefra and more Tarn Vedra this world became, the happier she would be. She slowed as she approached, taking a few deep breaths so that by the time she reached the door of his corner unit she'd schooled her expression into something resembling calm despite the rapid thumping of her heart against her chest.

Inside, it was dark and dusty. His home didn't resemble an apartment so much as a combination of a machine shop and laboratory. Mechanical things and screens sat stacked on shelves and makeshift tables, creating a labyrinth of metal and wire in the places most typical human homes would have couches and dining room tables. Though the apartment had round, porthole-like windows, he rarely opened them to allow natural light or fresh air into the place. It wasn't that Harper hated sunshine or fresh air, it was more that he seemed to forget it existed beyond the walls of his domain.

"Harper?" she called as she passed through the hallway from the entrance into what was meant to be a living room. He didn't answer, but she spotted him sitting on his bed in the small alcove that served as a bedroom, elbows on his knees, an amber tinted bottle of moonshine dangling from one hand and another, tipped on its side, empty by his foot. His gaze shifted upward, slow and lazy. He attempted a smile, but what she zeroed in on was the way his eyes avoided hers like they did when he was about tell a lie.

She held up her hand, revealing the hand comm inside and he stopped, eyes widening. "Don't bother making up a story. I thought you were at the bar, so I went there first." She tossed his hand comm to him and he caught it, glaring at it as if it had betrayed him. "Must have fallen off in the fight. I thought you were just busy when you didn't answer my comm to say I was running late, but apparently, you were getting into trouble. Ayla and Linn are worried, I told them I'd make sure you were alright. Take off your shirt."

He tried smiling again as she approached, turning up the charm to level ten. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink first?"

"That joke is old and I'm not in the mood. Also, I'm pretty sure you have had more than enough to drink already." She plucked the bottle out of his hand and turned her back to him before he could react, pushed a few mechanical bits and bobs out of the way, and dropped her medkit onto the improvised tabletop, setting the bottle next to it. "The fight was nearly two hours ago and you did not think to call me or seek medical attention?"

He wouldn't have. Word might have gotten back to Dylan, and he didn't want Dylan to know he'd been in a fight—especially with Nietzscheans.

"Trance, I—"

She grabbed the scanner and linked it with her comm for the second time today and rounded on him. He'd removed his shirt to reveal a torso marbled in blue, green, and yellow with a blood-soaked towel clinging to his right side. She hoped the empty bottle of alcohol had gone to disinfect whatever waited for her under that towel and not directly into his bloodstream. She winced, despite herself. "I should take you back up to Andromeda right now and get you to Med Deck, but I won't." Anger seeped into her voice. "What were you going to tell me? That you fell down some stairs? Maybe got hit by a hoverpod?"

He grimaced as she pulled back the cloth to reveal three weeping cuts surrounded by a centimeter of bright red, inflamed skin and crusty, dried blood, almost black now. The tiniest huff escaped as her lips curled. She'd had just about enough of Nietzschean brutality to last the rest of her life. She'd also had enough of Harper's anger induced risk taking. Between this and the incident down on New Burke, he was forming a dangerous trend.

From the medkit, she pulled the sanitizing wand. "That hoverpod had an impressive set of bone blades; these cuts are infected already. What were you thinking, taking on three of them by yourself? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

She began knitting the cuts together after injecting nanobots. No painkillers, though, not with the amount of alcohol in his system. His gaze searched out his bottle behind her, but she didn't plan on giving it back tonight.

He remained silent.

"Harper, look at me, this cannot go on; we need to discuss medical interventions for your mental health before you start a fight you can't walk away from. I do not want to bring this to Dylan, but I will if this keeps happening."

He tensed, a dog getting ready to bite, or a snake coiling, preparing to spring. "Tell Dylan. Go ahead, you tell him everything already, why would this be any different?"

"Harper…" She drew out the last syllable, putting a warning in his name. He was testing—throwing things out there to see what hurt. If he kept up, his words would become sharp blades, meant to cut deep and cause lasting damage. At a professional level, she understood the pathology behind his actions, but her emotions reacted regardless.

She pressed her lips together and reached for the bruised skin. It was hot to the touch, and he hissed when she pressed down, feeling for what she suspected would be there. Only one broken rib from the feel of it. A scan confirmed: one broken, one bruised.

"Why are you getting in my face about this now, anyway? What do you care if I get in a bar fight? It's not the first, it probably won't be the last, and I remember a few times a pretty purple face was right there beside me." His words sounded cold to her ears. Harsh. A sneer had set itself into his face, remolded it into a sculpture that looked like Harper but with a hard, ugly cast to it.

Her eye twitched and she breathed through her nose. He was baiting and she was falling for it. Beka once told her it was a sign of how strong their friendship was that they knew which buttons to push, that a few words spoken in anger could elicit such strong feelings. Only, back then, she'd backed down from fights. Not anymore. "I grew up, unlike you, and I think you are smart enough to figure out why I care so much now. Why don't you use that big brain of yours?"

The coil released and she saw the bite coming a moment too late, leaving no time to bring up her emotional defenses.

"I'm not a pawn in one of your games. You can't control me like you used to with all your riddles and masks and acting like a completely different person every couple of years. I can see through you now. It's my life and I have control of it. I do, no one else. I don't dance on anyone's puppet strings, not even yours."

Her body tensed. Her voice was soft and slow when she spoke again, but she made sure the edge was clear. "You really need to stop and think about what you are saying right now before you say something you will regret."

Despite his anger at her, despite everything inside telling her to get away, she kept working. The checklist kept her moving. There was a routine in healing: program nanobots; inject anti-inflammatory medication for his ribs; some antibiotics now to tackle the quick spreading infection; set and tape up the rib until the nanos could repair it.

"I don't have to stop and think about anything. I can do what I want with my life, even get in fights, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Not the goddamned Nietzscheans, not your evil, manipulative, planet-destroying people, not Dylan, or anyone else."

Her breath hitched. She put down her tools and stood still, trying to stop her hands from shaking.

Disengage. Leave now.

There was a time before she'd come back from the alternate universe when she would have run away rather than confront Harper, especially when he was like this. Last year, she would have, too, but she was a different person now, older and with all of her memories restored. She held the memories of a sun inside this weak body: the memory of how to burn. She lifted her chin, feeding the fusion reaction inside, letting it grow hotter and brighter.

Unlike Harper, she knew how to control her anger, how direct attacks where they would hurt most.

"Evil. So you've met many of the Lambent Kith? You know all about them? Because I watched humans grow from apes on Earth. I have seen the horrors humans are capable of: genocide; war; torture and slavery. Humans created bombs that can destroy entire systems. Humans created the Nietzschean race, or did you forget? You yourself are working on weapons to kill my people. Do I get to judge your entire species by the actions of a few? The Nebula is forty-five people. There are billions of celestial bodies in all the galaxies."

It wasn't fair to bring up the weapons. She'd told him to drop it and had meant it. She was hurting too, and that hurt was driving her to dig up what should have remained buried. The logical part of her brain warned her—she was out of control, using her pain to fuel her fury, no different than Harper. She wasn't immune to the urge to bring others down with her, but because the Nebula had trained her to manipulate emotions, it made her more dangerous.

Leave. Go, now, this will only get worse.

Only, he wasn't finished.

He jumped up, his face contorted in a snarl, brows pinched towards his nose in sharp angles, weight shifting from side to side, almost frenetic. His muscles quivered like excited atoms under a microscope. She took a step back, suddenly aware of how dangerous he could be when cornered and how much stronger he was than her.

He won't hurt me.

Was she so sure?

"I know enough about your people, Trance. I know what they did to Earth, what they were planning to do to the entire galaxy and I'm glad we'll be able to kill them. They deserve it. I also know you think you're better than humans because of who and what you are, but you aren't any different. At least humans do their horrible things out in the open instead of manipulating you while pretending to be your friend. My life was just fine before you showed up and meddled in it, making all of us dance to your music like puppets. I'm done. I'm done with all this bullshit."

His words hurt physically. They tore into her stomach, squeezed her heart so she was amazed it could still beat, and stole her breath away, leaving her head spinning and the room tilting to the side. It wasn't the first time he'd thrown that particular attack at her, which meant a part of him still didn't trust her. Everything they'd built over the last two months seemed to crumble around her, turning to dust at her feet.

And she couldn't tell him he was wrong.

She recognized the panic attack this time and forced one deep breath, then another, keeping her silence while he seethed in front of her. She needed to control this, control herself, get away and take the medication Rommie had her carry. Neither of them could deal with a panic attack right now and she was vulnerable and alone here since Doyle had gone back up to Andromeda with Dylan this afternoon.

Get out. Go.

Putting on a mask of strength, she stood straighter and stepped towards Harper, meeting his eyes. They were bits of ice, sharp and cold. Her voice was cold, too. "For someone as smart as you are, you say really dumb things when you are angry. I understand your anger and you have every right to it because the Universe has given you nothing but pain for so long, but I am not the one who ordered the destruction of Earth. I am not the one who hurt you and I want to help you more than anything, but you have to admit you need help. I have taken care of your injuries and I won't stay here under attack any longer. Come find me when you come to your senses. I'll have my comm with me."

She turned her back to him again and left, but not before snagging his bottle. At least he'd have one fewer here to wreck himself on.


The temperature had dropped between the time he'd entered his apartment, warmth having disappeared with the sun. The clouds had thickened and hidden the moon and stars. At least the sun had peeked through long enough for Trance to see.

The last time he'd ventured out of doors at night, the streets had been dark and full of shadows and no one walked them without quick access to a weapon. Now they were lit, but he kept his hand on his gauss gun, anyway. The Commonwealth had arrived, bringing with them lights and civilization, but that did not mean that they had banished the shadows. Not in three months.

This made him feel worse, like the biggest idiot to ever live. Trance was out here alone in a place he wouldn't traverse without a weapon strapped to his hip because he couldn't keep his damned mouth shut. She had patched him up without informing Dylan or recording the incident in Andromeda's logs and how had he repaid her? By shouting at her, insulting her people—because that wasn't a sensitive subject at all—and implying he wished he'd never met her.

All because she cared whether he lived or died.

Way to go, Harper.

At least he was using his brain now, two hours too late. If anything had happened to her because of his stupidity, the punishments Beka and Dylan would exact on him would pale compared to what he would do to himself. How could she ever trust him again if she felt he didn't trust her?

It didn't matter how she'd come into their lives, or why. All that mattered was the woman she was now. He wasn't the same boy tinkering in the Maru's engine room by day and drunkenly seducing women by night, and she wasn't the same mysterious purple girl Beka had picked up on a backwater drift six-and-a-half years ago. He had no right to throw stones loaded with the sins of the past in his fragile glass house.

The whiskey he'd imbibed not even an hour before warmed his belly and cheeks but clouded his thoughts. He wandered the streets only half as aware of his surroundings as he should be, focused on Trance's dot on his hand comm and trying to ignore the pain in his side where nanobots worked hard to knit his rib back together. He was surprised to find himself with the lights of the newly christened Seefra City behind him, boots collecting dust on the unpaved street beyond city limits.

He shivered and turned the heating element in his jacket on. The temperature was dropping fast. The weather report seemed to be spot on, though predicting the weather on Tarn Vedra as the climate reset itself was more an art than a science, he could smell snow in the crispness of the air.

She'd never taken off her jacket earlier, did she have her hat and gloves as well? She didn't like the cold. He'd turned the temperature down a few degrees once while they'd worked out together and she'd been freezing.

You're a freaking idiot.

At some point, it had to sink in that he was the reason he couldn't have nice things. Right? After over thirty years, it wasn't too late to learn?

He reached into the deep pockets of his jacket and pulled out a flashlight, adding another concern to his list. Away from the city, it was dark. She'd used to wear a belt that had contained emergency supplies, including a flashlight. Had she felt the need to carry them here on Tarn Vedra, tucked into her pockets? He didn't even know if she had her forcelance with her.

Down the path, at the base of the Scans mountain range, a few lights twinkled: a Wayist colony. He remembered Trance mentioning it earlier. The Wayists, like everyone else, were taking advantage of the Gold Rush mentality and the chance to set up shop on what was once the Universe's most powerful planet in hopes it would be again. Only, instead of money and treasure, the Wayists wished to hoard saved souls. She'd be there.

He hadn't expected her to walk four kilometers, especially after such a long day of working with the Perseids, helping out at the Lange's, and patching up his sorry ass. She'd gotten so much stronger in such a short time.

A snowflake landed on his nose, its frozen body melting there. First, just a few flakes kissed his face, then a silent flurry of white drifted around him, each snowflake catching the light and glowing against the dark night sky. The magic of the first snowfall. Tomorrow, a white blanket would lay over this path. He quickened his pace. Bostonians knew how quickly a path could become impassable once the powder built up in earnest.

As he moved, to keep his mind off his culpability in this situation, he let it wander. Back into the past. Snow had meant dangerously cold temperatures and death to many on the streets of Boston. It meant the start of never thawing out completely, walking around with numb hands and frozen noses. But, to children, it also came with makeshift snowboards and sleds—with racing down hills, heads flung back, laughing as the white powder flew into the sky, landing on hats and jackets, initiating them into the world of winter. A momentary reprieve granted by nature that even the Dragons couldn't take away.

Who can go the fastest? Can you make that jump Brendan? I bet I can! What, are you scared, scaredy cat? I'm not afraid of anything!

How he wished he'd shown Brendan the stars, or taken him sledding on a real mountain, or swam with him in clean water, or taught him how to surf. He would give anything to have Brendan back, to share the wonders of his life with someone who shared his blood.

"So there's this girl, Brendan," he might say. Brendan would smile and laugh, patting him on the back.

"There's always a girl, Seamus. What's she like? A redhead?"

He'd be taken aback. "Well… yes. She's a redhead. But that's not the point. It's different this time. Stop laughing, I swear it is, but I messed up and I don't know what to say to make things right."

Brendan would smile and nod, face the picture of wisdom. He'd be able to see it was different. This wasn't little 'l' love. It was the big 'L' this time.

"If it's that important, just talk to her and tell her you're sorry. What's so hard about that?"

Did Brendan have a girl back on Earth? A woman he'd been fighting for? Harper hadn't thought to ask during the Bunker Hill revolution, but he bet he did. What woman wouldn't have fallen for Brendan?

As he approached the Scans, the desert shifted into scrub forest. Snow already dusted the branches of the short, parched, trees that lined the path. The settlement glowed in front of him. He glanced at his comm. She was closer now, but still hadn't moved, and he worried there was a reason. He could come up with a million reasons to worry, a million reason why he wasn't supposed to have left her alone on this damn planet in the first place. How could he have been so stupid, so self absorbed? She always ran from arguments so why would tonight have been any different?

He surveyed the settlement. A traditional setup; the path led to semi-permanent buildings built in a circular formation and hidden behind the buildings would be a central courtyard garden for community gatherings and prayer. A permanent building was in construction. Though still modest, it towered over the pop-up shelters. Off to the side of the path, a monk, features shadowed in the pale light emanating from a streetlamp nearby, sat on a wooden bench watching the road for those seeking The Way.

"Blessed be. Do you seek shelter? It's a cold night," the monk called out when he was close enough to hear, her voice welcoming. As much as he loved Rev Bem, religion had never appealed to him, though the Wayists had tried to bring peace to the people suffering on Earth, the birthplace of the Way. But their promises didn't fill empty bellies and heal wounds. These colonies put him on edge, but Trance had always found them welcoming.

"Uh, hi. I'm just looking for someone, a woman. She's hard to miss: long red hair, sparkling skin, drop dead gorgeous?"

Up close he found a dark-skinned woman near Beka's age with a friendly wrinkle-lined face and twinkling eyes, her hair shaved down to the scalp. She wore traditional white robes, her medallion resting on her bosom, catching the light. She laughed a deep laugh that sounded like a timpani in a concert hall, and it made her seem safer, more inviting.

"There are many lost souls here. We have one who matches your description, but I don't think she wants to be found. Still, even the lost can take respite within our walls." She looked him over and nodded, a smile that seemed playful gracing her face. "Perhaps we simply aren't the ones meant to guide her tonight."

Did monks take classes on cryptic messages? How to Confuse Your Constituents 101?

Okay, crazy lady, just tell me where she is.

"It's kind of important I find her."

"She was in the courtyard when I began my shift ten minutes ago. I suggested she take shelter inside the prayer tent to continue her meditations, but she didn't seem inclined to do so. She hasn't moved in an hour, though it wasn't snowing earlier."

Harper shot the woman a grateful smile and felt a little bad for calling her crazy, even inside his mind. "Thanks."

She bowed to him and gestured to the opening between buildings that would take him into the courtyard. "Go in peace, wanderer."

Yeah. Peace. She didn't know the half of it.

Still, he entered the colony, and there Trance was, sitting on a bench with her gloved hands resting beside her, eyes focused on something beyond the clouds. A white knitted cap with flowers embroidered on it was pulled over her ears.

He approached, boots crunching on gravel. The courtyard showed signs of becoming a beautiful garden one day, but right now it was a sorry sight: a small frozen pond surrounded by several benches and smattering of scrawny trees, branches bare for winter. He saw movement beneath the ice, a slight shimmer as light caught on scales—fish, like those in the pond Trance had created for him.

Trance didn't move, but he sensed she knew he was there. An invitation, then. She'd told him to come find her when he got his head out of his ass—phrasing changed for emphasis. He hesitated, then took a seat beside her, but she didn't acknowledge him. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he had a hypothesis about what she saw in the starless sky.

"That's where the moon would be right now if you could see it through the clouds, isn't it?" he asked. She blinked, then turned. Her pupils were so large he almost couldn't see her irises and her cheeks were redder than usual, her nose too, but she wasn't shivering.

"Yes."

"You should be inside. It's snowing and the temperature is dropping fast."

She looked back to the sky.

"The winter moon on a clear night following the snowfall was always my favorite. There is a place on the small northern continent where sandy beaches run into a volcanic plateau. From the top, on one side you can watch the sun and moon rise over the ocean. On the other, you can watch them set behind a mountain range with nothing but unbroken plains between. The Vedrans held it sacred and built an observatory for meditation and reflection. It stood for thousands of years before the Fall. Under the winter moon, the plains shone in blue and silver, and through the snow grew a wildflower that reflected the light. It looked like red jewels sewn on shimmering silver blanket. It was so beautiful."

"I wish I could have seen it."

Tarn Vedra pre-Fall was an almost magical place to Earthers; a distant kingdom in a story that started with 'Once upon a time'. Nothing Dylan or Trance ever said had dispelled the belief, their colorful descriptions only adding to its allure.

"I wish you could have, too."

Something in her voice sounded off. His brain puzzled over it, while his mouth, on autopilot again, asked what he didn't want to ask. How convenient of him to forget that she'd lost a husband along with her people.

"You miss him, Ione?"

She frowned, creasing the skin around her lips and wrinkling her forehead. "Of course I do."

"I mean, I guess it would be kind of hard to get over losing your one true love." He kicked himself. He liked digging holes, didn't he? Seamus Harper, professional ditch digger. Wasn't his fault women were so hard to talk to and so confusing with all their emotions and feelings and things.

She blinked, eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to him, and he couldn't look away.

"I never understood that phrase, one true love. The heart is not so small that you can only love one person in a lifetime." So much conviction in her words. He swallowed and fidgeted under her gaze. She took a deep breath and let it out. "Or even at the same time."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? She'd said he was smart enough to figure this out, but he wasn't so sure because he didn't want to let himself believe it was because she loved him. His heart thumped against his chest, racing enough to take his breath away, but he forced himself to breathe normally. His gaze shifted, breaking eye contact, and out of the corner of his eye he caught something surprising; the bottle she'd taken from him earlier, emptier now. "You're drunk."

"I was quite drunk but I am less so now." No denial, just a heavy sigh.

Anger flared in his chest, but he tamped it down. This was one ditch he didn't need to keep digging deeper. "This isn't like you. You don't drink your problems away."

She raised an eyebrow, her face taking on a rueful cast. "I don't not drink my problems away, either. I've never properly had the chance to try, and you all seem to think it is an effective way to deal with your emotions." She shook her head. "I am not convinced, it didn't work very well."

That much was obvious. The melancholy surrounded her, an almost tangible presence.

Gentler, he said, "You aren't cleared for alcohol yet. You could've hurt yourself."

"Weren't you just arguing with me earlier that we are free to risk our own lives the way we see fit, regardless of what anyone else thinks? I know what drunk feels like, I stopped when I got there."

Touche. He deflated a bit, some of the hot air from his drunken tirade earlier escaping into the air in puffs of white.

"You're right. It's… different when it's someone else." He was unable to keep sheepishness from coloring his tone. To her credit, she didn't gloat. "I'm sorry for everything I said, you didn't deserve it. You aren't even the first one this week to call me out, Doyle gave me an earful on New Burke, too. I guess I don't learn."

Snow continued to fall. He noticed a few flakes clinging to her lashes and was fixated on them. Such a tiny thing, snowflakes on eyelashes. Such beautiful eyes to be framed in icy white, despite being swollen and red from earlier tears. No one in the Tri-Galaxies had eyes like hers.

"It's too easy for me to lash out at you, and I have a really bad habit of doing it, don't I?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "You could say that." Then, after a deep breath, crystallizing in the air before disappearing. "You weren't wrong. When I joined the Maru crew, I had a mission to complete, and you were all necessary tools. I was conditioned by the Nebula to view humans as less. Insignificant and expendable. The only true thing in our Universe was the energy and matter that every living creature is compiled of. Organic lives are so short… I always cared more than I should, but at first, you were more like pets than friends."

A part of him wanted to be angry that she'd used them like pawns on a game board, but the anger wouldn't rise because he'd always known she had secret motives and he didn't believe her, even if he'd accused her of the same earlier.

Three weeks into her stay on the Maru she'd saved his life. He could still see the worry on her face when he woke after she'd healed his plasma burns and sewn up his torn organs. She'd stayed by his bedside around the clock for three days until he could stand and walk on his own and, for an entire week after, she was there any time he called, no matter how mean he'd gotten in his lowest moments. He couldn't remember the last time she'd sung around him, but he remembered her singing then, an off-key lullaby in a language he couldn't understand. He remembered her hand in his, too. Cool to the touch, but as soft as it was now.

Was it possible she held so much self-doubt and guilt inside that she truly believed it? He felt even worse about what he'd said earlier. He was here now, and that had to mean something, had to mean he could help. "What changed things?"

Why was she looking at him like that with her lips pulled into a sad little smile? She reached out with one hand and placed it on his cheek. Warmth radiated through the soft leather of her gloves, setting fire to where her fingers touched.

"You did, my first true friend. I came to care for you more than was safe, for either of us."

Something was happening here, shifting between them. Something he understood instinctively but had never experienced, building out in the open air with the snow falling all around them. It occurred to him that they were both drunk, that he should stop her here, before they crossed a line they might not otherwise cross sober.

He couldn't do it.

"What's happening right now? What's going on between us? We started this tango once before, a long time ago, and you pushed me away—put a lot of distance between us real fast."

She took her hand away. Goosebumps formed on his arm as cold flakes landed on the cheek her hand had warmed. She fidgeted in place, looked up as if looking for answers and drummed her fingers on the bench beside her. When she looked to him again, deep lines were etched into her forehead.

"You weren't supposed to notice, it was supposed to be subtle."

"How could I not? We were best friends, and then we weren't. Even I'm not dense enough to miss that—it hurt."

She closed her eyes and when she opened them, they pleaded with him to understand. "I am so sorry I hurt you, but I had to do it to save you. I could not care for you the way I did. You only survived in a handful of paths to the perfect possible future. I was always supposed to choose the lives of the others over yours, but I couldn't do it. For you, I was willing to change every plan, to sacrifice my people's idea of a perfect future, because how could it be perfect if you were gone? If they had known, they would have killed you and taken the choice away from me." She paused, blinking rapidly as tears welled up.

He held his breath. He needed to hear what came next.

She shook her head and that sad smile returned. "No matter how much I loved everyone else, I always loved you best. I still do."

He'd waited a lifetime to hear a woman say those words. A lifetime to hear her say those words. She watched him, frozen in place, her lips parted. As the silence stretched on, she swallowed, rolled her shoulders back and tilted her chin towards the sky, as if steeling herself for battle.

"You can't say something like that without everything changing," he said once his breath returned. She leaned toward him, resting her weight on her hands on the bench between them.

"Change is the only constant in the Universe, Seamus. Perhaps it is time for us to change, to become something different."

Now he smiled and leaned in until their noses almost touched.

"Something better?"

Her smile changed, the sadness fading away until her face brightened. He was preoccupied with her lips all of a sudden, the shape and color of them so inviting, and so close.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"I really want to kiss you right now." The words spilled out without a thought.

A soft, breathless, laugh danced in the air. "Why don't you? You've wanted to for weeks, but you never said or did anything." She shook her head, her smile so full and wonderful, eyes sparkling like her skin. "I don't think you've even hit on me once since I woke, and I have not figured out why."

Laughter burst out from deep within, carrying through the hushed quiet of the colony, probably disrupting some poor monk's silent meditation. He pulled away, threw his head back, and let it out.

"What? What's so funny?"

Once he'd collected himself, he explained, "I was desperate for you to wake up, so I promised you that if you opened your eyes, I would stop hitting on you. No more innuendos or anything. Honestly, it was a last ditch attempt and I didn't expect it to work, but a few minutes later you woke up, the Universe's most inconvenient coincidence."

A brief shadow of sadness passed over her face, like a cloud over the moon, before the smile found its way back, accompanied by that sweet laugh. It filled his heart to hear her laughing; far too rare an occurrence these days. "That's silly. Why would you make a promise like that? I never minded."

Putting his hands on top of hers, he leaned in again, heart humming in anticipation of what had to come next. He'd just stepped into his very own romantic film starring Seamus Harper, the lonely bachelor who'd fallen for his best friend. The tropes were clear, there was one place to go from here.

Her head tilted to the side, her shoulders danced, and she winked. "I'll forgive you, just this once, if you break your promise."

He didn't need another invitation.

He closed the gap between them and brushed his lips against hers, testing whether he'd guessed right, a part of him convinced he was imagining it all. Warmth radiated from her skin and, despite the snow falling all around them creating marshmallow piles around their feet, the essence of spring engulfed him for a passing moment.

She let out a sigh when he pulled away and looked back at him through half closed lids.

"You realize we're drunk right now?" he asked.

She nodded. "Perhaps the alcohol is allowing us to admit to what we have been too afraid to admit for weeks now."

He lifted his hands off of hers and brushed her cheek before kissing her again, deeper this time, tasting the whiskey that lingered on her lips. She returned it, their breath mingling in puffs of white between them, her nose cold and lips warm, as soft as he'd imagined they would be. The essence of flowers clung to her, and now to him. When she pulled back for air, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers, not ready to let go. Perhaps even a little afraid that, if he did, he would wake up and find out he'd dreamt the entire thing.

"So what do we do now? I've never done this before." A hard admission to make.

"Ione and I were bound as infants, we grew up together, so I have no idea. I suppose we take it day by day and build on what we have. Though step one should be to get back to your apartment and going to bed."

He pulled back so he could look at her face, heart speeding up again. Did she mean go to bed with him or alone in separate beds? For years he'd joked about taking Trance to bed and now he had no idea what to do with the concept of it.

She laughed. "Don't look so alarmed—I am too drunk and too tired and your ribs haven't even had a day to heal. I thought we could do something novel with the bed tonight and sleep in it. I could take Doyle's bed again if you'd prefer."

He let out his breath and laughed, then stood, pulling her to her feet. He winked and lifted his eyebrows. "No, I don't think I'd prefer that at all. I mean, we've already slept together once, might as well make a habit of it."

She wobbled on her feet so he wrapped his arm around her waist and she pressed into his side. "This is going to be a fun walk."

He gave her a squeeze. He was certain no woman had ever felt so perfect in his arms before. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall. I'll be right here beside you." He kissed her again, and when again she returned it, his stomach dipped as if he were speeding downhill on a sled.

She blinked away more snowflakes. "I know you will."