I finally find him on the observation deck, hands clasped behind his back as he stares out at the passing stars. Streamers of pink and purple light from the Starfish Nebula flicker softly through the darkened room.
"Were she alive, she would be telling me that everything will be fine."
"And to stop worrying."
He turns to me, surprise edging into his troubled face. "Indeed."
"Everything will be fine." I say very, very gently. He needs to hear it.
"Illogical," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms.
I snuggle beneath his chin. "Everything will be fine."
It has to be.