Vasquez was glad to get back to the living quarters of the quarantine unit. The space itself was institutional and austere, not a place she would have ever thought could be considered comfortable, but it felt familiar now.

She recognized that their confinement there had helped bring her and Hudson together; the forced downtime, though not by choice, had provided the opportunity to rest and recover, to sleep and grieve. And with nothing there to do—other than Hudson—it provided a space where the two of them had shamelessly turned to one another for comfort.

But the space seemed different now that it was just the two of them. Staggeringly quiet and a bit surreal.

The emotionally difficult morning and the walk back had taken its toll. Her right leg throbbed and she felt a headache and a general feeling of unwellness as she struggled to untangle the strap of the duffel bag from her crutches.

On the table, Hudson set down the bin he was carrying, grunting as he dropped the two heavy duffel bags from his shoulder to the floor. Then he turned and quickly helped Vasquez remove her own bag. He had located his favorite USCM cap in his locker room belongings and he wore it now, lifting it briefly to wipe the sweat from his forehead. When he returned it, he put it on backwards, some sweaty pieces of hair sticking through the hole at the front.

"Bowens said they'd leave the key for you?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," said Vasquez, picking up a white box from the kitchen counter. She opened it, and a clear acrylic card sat within: the key for room C1038, the rental aboard Gateway Station where she would be living for the next several months—or at least for as long as USCM continued to foot the bill. "Here. Got it."

"Good," said Hudson and he watched her, scratched his arm above the cast and shifted his weight. "Guess I should head down to the rental office and see what they got left."

"What?" Vasquez asked him in confusion and Hudson looked back at her quizzically.

"I'd get a separate unit, uh, right? Or…?"

"You really want to pay for rent up here? It would cost a fortune," she replied.

Hudson gave a quick laugh, "I don't want to, I just didn't wanna assume that you'd want me to stay with you in your place."

Vasquez could see that he was trying to tread carefully. She knew she had hurt him earlier in the locker room when she snapped at him, and again just moments ago when she tried to convince him not to stay.

He stared at her innocently, his eyes sincere and stressed, his forehead creased and the indent above one eyebrow; that look he would get when he was worried.

He could be so childlike sometimes, unable to keep his anxieties from getting the better of him. She knew that a lot was weighing on him, that he worried about her and it was an accumulation of stress that had caused him to be sick earlier in the locker room.

Vasquez moved closer to him and he was timid as he reached out and touched her arms.

She sighed. "I want you to stay with me..."

His brows raised a bit, and he watched her guardedly. "You do?"

She nodded, but she looked down, trying to select her next words carefully.

"But..?" Hudson prompted, the worry returning to his face.

"But... What if all this goes horribly wrong and we drive each other crazy?"

"Then, at least we tried," Hudson said with a shrug.

He rubbed her arms and the warmth from his hands was something she didn't know she needed until that moment. She felt chilled and achy and suddenly drained of energy. She gave a small, involuntary shiver.

"You cold?" he asked, tilting his head down so that he could better read her face.

"I'm okay," she said instinctively, but it wasn't the truth.

Hudson's hand had already swiftly moved to her forehead, a frown coming to his face. "Fuck," he said in dismay. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"It's nothing."

She could feel the fever in her cheeks and she knew Hudson had felt it from her forehead. Instantly, he was setting her crutches aside, helping her to sit atop the kitchen table to take the weight off her legs. He unzipped his hoodie and draped it around her shoulders and she probably should have cared that it might have had his vomit on it, but she didn't.

"Why are we so shit at talking to one another?" he asked unhappily. Vasquez stayed quiet, taking his comments as rhetorical, but her silence only seemed to emphasize his point because after a moment he groaned and she could sense his frustration.

"We should head to the medical bay now," he said adamantly.

Vasquez felt a surge of nervousness. "I'm not scheduled until three," she argued.

"This could be serious, Vaz. I'm not takin' chances."

"Well, what about moving into our new place?" she looked up at him, a hint of irony in her voice.

A bit of warmth touched Hudson's features amidst his anxious expression. "Our new place?"

The eyes that held her gaze were filled with affection and she was reminded of the way he looked at her on the first night they had spent there. How she had gotten the sudden urge to kiss him when they were alone. How he had been so sweet, genuinely trying to console her, convince her she wasn't responsible for Drake's death.

She remembered her thoughts at the time, the 'what the hell,' that crossed her mind as she gave in to the feeling and pressed her lips to his, right there at that table.

"I'll bring our things and sort out the place," Hudson continued. "Unfortunately, the housewarming party'll have to wait. But, come on, let's get going. I'm worried about you."

"Okay, okay," she agreed. But she didn't move from where she sat atop the table.

She felt her face grow warm with heat, impossible to distinguish embarrassment from fever. She wiggled the toes on her right foot. The foot was numb but it still worked. She imagined waking up without that foot, without half of her leg. Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe keeping the limb and accepting limited mobility had been the better option. Or, if this fever was an indicator of a spreading infection, what if she woke to find that they had taken the entire leg? What if she didn't wake up from it at all?

Vasquez still had not moved from her seat. She felt paralyzed by apprehension, so completely overwhelmed that she didn't even feel like herself. She felt weak and ashamed.

Hudson watched her. "Vasquez, you gotta talk to me." His voice was pleading, filled with despair, almost a whisper.

"I'm… I'm fucking freaking out, Hudson," she finally managed to say.

He breathed a sound of sympathy and sat on the table beside her. He wrapped his arms around her securely, his chest against her back. "It's okay. You have every right to be scared—I'm fuckin' freaking out too."

"What if I made a mistake?"

"You didn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I do, and you didn't."

"Yesterday when I told you, you said—"

"I know, but I shouldn't have. I knew you were right. It's your best chance at a normal life."

She nodded, grateful for his words. She let herself lean back against his chest, soaking up the warmth from his embrace, the soothing heat from his body alleviating her chill and easing some of her apprehensions.

"Take all the time you need. We'll go when you're ready."

.

While the medical bay of the quarantine unit had been small and relatively calm, the main in-patient ward of Gateway Station, on the other hand, was a hive of activity. Until that moment, Vasquez had not really considered how the station's expansive medical facilities served as a catch-all for the other colonies, and during the time they were seated in the waiting area, they had seen numerous cryopods being wheeled towards the assorted wards, as colonists in various stages of hypersleep reached their preferred surgical destination.

The thought actually made Vasquez feel more at ease as she sat on a waiting room chair next to Hudson, her legs draped across his lap. She was about to comment to him about it, but he looked impatient and irritated.

The receptionist had told Hudson that she would contact Vasquez's doctor and have someone bring over a gurney so she could lie down while they waited. But that had nearly been an hour ago. And as they sat on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, medical staff continuing to whiz past, still no one stopped to talk to them and Hudson was getting increasingly agitated. His eyes were now fixated on a pair of orderlies on the other side of the waiting room and he glared at them as they audibly talked about their weekend, laughing as they stood next to an unoccupied gurney.

Vasquez watched as Hudson chewed the inside of his cheek and the second he made a movement, she shook her head. "What are you going to do?" she asked him.

He was already gently lifting her legs so he could stand, carefully returning her feet to the place he had been sitting.

"Nothin'…" he said in an innocent tone, but his face already looked a bit guilty. "... I mean, nothin' that'll get us kicked out."

"Get us kicked out?" Vasquez challenged as he strode away from her, moving towards the free gurney, clearly trying to be stealthy.

But his attempt at going unnoticed was spoiled as he strolled across the room with a 'casual' gait that appeared more surly than commonplace and he seemed to be unwittingly drawing more attention to himself. When he grabbed a hold of the gurney and tried to pull it away, the two orderlies stared at him.

"What are you doing?" one of them asked Hudson with a sort of unimpressed curiosity as he watched Hudson pull at the gurney, which barely budged, appearing to be in a locked position.

"Goddammit," said Hudson, looking disappointed. "Look guys, can I grab this one? I need it for my friend so she can lie down."

"You think you can just come up here and take a gurney?" retorted one of the orderlies with a laugh.

At the confrontational tone, Vasquez could see Hudson's brows instantly drop in aggravation, his mouth held tightly, his back up like a provoked bulldog.

"Wanna know what I think?" she heard Hudson say in a low voice, and from across the room, he pointed in her direction and the orderlies stared at her as she sat awkwardly sprawled across two of the waiting room chairs. "I think that there's a patient over there who needs this more than your fuckin' elbows do." Then he successfully kicked off the wheel break and yanked it out from behind them.

The two medical staff just watched Hudson in resignation as he commandeered the gurney, steering it towards Vasquez. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at them.

By the time he had rolled the gurney up alongside her, an abashed smile had made its way onto his face. "Hey, look what I found! Can you believe this thing was just sittin' there?" he said joking triumphantly as if she hadn't just witnessed the entire exchange.

Vasquez shook her head slowly. "Pendejo," she said to him, but she laughed as he helped her on to the gurney and she laid back in relief. She still had his hoodie wrapped around her shoulders and he helped rearrange it now, spreading it over her upper body like a blanket.

As if sensing she was cold, Hudson took a minute to rub her arms beneath the sweater, working some heat back into her muscles. Then, with a twinkle of mischief visible in his eye, he got behind the gurney again to push it. "So, where to, baby-cakes?" Hudson asked, and he had put on the accent of a twentieth century New York City cab driver. "Port, starboard... the world is your oyster."

She continued to shake her head at him, but for some reason she played along. "What's good around here? I'm from… out of town," she said lamely and together they laughed at how stupid they both sounded.

"Well," said Hudson, as the bad accent continued, wavering between Brooklyn and Boston as he slowly began to push the gurney. "There's starboard, see?—that's the 'stuffy' part of town—nothin' but a bunch of rich folks. Then there's port, which is, like, industrial but popular with the young kids. Or there's aft."

"Definitely not aft," joked Vasquez.

"'Course not, it's a shithole. That's no place for a gal like you."

She let out another laugh and leaned her head back so she could see his face, upside down but grinning as he navigated their surroundings. He looked more relaxed in that moment than he had all day and she realized that she, too, had temporarily forgotten about her fever and nervousness.

"Forward," said Vasquez, naming the remaining direction. His eyes looked down and he almost seemed surprised to see her looking up at him.

"Forward? he said in his own voice. "I mean"—the New Yorker accent returned— "Forward! Sure, sure. I know just the place."

He did continue to push the gurney forward until they had reached the opposite side of the waiting room where a large window looked out into space.

From where she was lying, she could just barely make out the top curve of the earth and she sat up a bit more so she could see the thin blue line of the planet's atmosphere through the window. In the same view, a muted veil of green aurora borealis glowed visibly in contrast to the part of the world that was cloaked in darkness. And in those same darkened regions, openings in the clouds revealed the scattered orange glow of billions of accumulated lights, like beacons denoting the mark of human settlements.

"Say what you want about the service here, at least they got ocean views," she said, a bit mesmerized by the grand perspective of the earth. Such a view never got old, no matter how often she saw it.

"One day, I'll take you somewhere real," said Hudson, his tone unexpectedly somber. "You know, like on a date."

Vasquez peeled her eyes away from the window and looked up at him. "How 'bout that night we went out in Houston?"

"That wasn't a date," Hudson replied. "When we were in Houston, we were just friends. We weren't yet… we were still..." She watched him as he struggled for words. "You know what I mean, it didn't count back then."

She raised her eyebrows at him teasingly, noticing how ruffled he seemed to be getting.

Hudson locked the wheels of the gurney in place and sat up on the edge of the bed. "No, seriously, it's only a date when both people acknowledge they might kinda, you know, sort of... like one another… Going out somewhere in public together makes it official."

"Wouldn't that mean that this is a date?" she asked lazily.

Hudson seemed more cautious, "I don't know… do we kinda, sorta like each other?" He was watching her carefully.

Yesterday, a bit reluctantly, Vasquez had told Hudson that she cared about him. It was clear that he wanted to hear something of that nature again now—some further validation of the feelings she knew he had for her.

But today they were acting like two awkward teenagers. It was as if they hadn't already spent the past couple nights intertwined, running their hands over one another, hot with passion as they came together, enough times now that she had lost track. Yet, the seemingly simple act of just saying something kind to him, 'I like you', felt inexplicably difficult.

"Pretty low bar if this is our first date," she said instead, "I mean, considering what we're here for. Think we might need a redo."

"Definitely," said Hudson with a laugh, but it sounded awkward, not genuine like his usual laughter. He looked uncomfortable, stress returning to his face again. "Um, I probably should have asked this earlier, but is there anyone you want me to contact to tell them you're here? Any family? I mean, like, any extended family?" he clarified, aware that Vasquez's parents had both died and she hadn't seen her sister in over a decade now.

'No," she said simply.

He nodded, her response appearing to create more worry in his expression.

At that point, a doctor approached them. "Jenette Vasquez?" the doctor asked with a friendly smile and Vasquez nodded and returned her handshake. "Hi, I'm Doctor Haines, I'll be performing your surgery today," said the doctor, and she turned to Hudson with her hand out.

Hudson shook the surgeon's hand vigorously. "She's got a fever," he blurted out. "Well, we didn't have a thermometer, but it feels like she has a temperature and she's cold. Is that bad? What does that mean?" he asked, bypassing any formality or opportunity for small talk.

"Oh," said Dr. Haines in response to the comment, and she turned a professional eye back to Vasquez. She held her tablet up in front of her and it was apparent she was gauging her stats from the screen. "A bit of a temperature, you're right," she confirmed. "Could just be due to a weakened immune system, but it could also indicate the beginning of an infection."

Hudson stared at the surgeon with wide eyes. "So, what does that mean?" he asked again as the doctor was suddenly making swiping motions on her tablet.

"The fever itself shouldn't pose too much of a risk as long as it stays low, but in case it is the result of an infection, we're going to want to get ahead of it as quickly as possible," she replied without looking up. "I'm moving her up so we can bring her in now."

The surgeon's calm, matter-of-fact demeanor made Vasquez feel more at ease and she exhaled a breath. But beside her, Hudson was looking increasingly fearful. He watched Vasquez anxiously, his hands closing around her foot, which was closest to where he was standing. He squeezed her foot and looked at her sadly.

Just then, a nurse came up beside Dr. Haines, identifying herself as the one that would be admitting Vasquez and prepping her for surgery. Then, the nurse took control of the gurney and immediately they were on their way as she began wheeling it through the waiting area. Dr. Haines kept a swift pace beside them, still swiping on her tablet as she asked questions about Vasquez's medical history and reviewed details of the upcoming procedure. Hudson had to almost jog beside them to keep up, trying unavailingly to stay out of the surgeon's way, to keep a hand on Vasquez's arm, as they moved through the bustling corridor.

Then, the gurney stopped abruptly in front of a pair of heavy glass doors that restricted access to a long, white hallway.

"Any questions before we take you in?" Haines asked Vasquez.

"Yeah." Hudson piped up, his jaw tense as he addressed the surgeon. "You gonna take care of her in there? You gonna do everything in your power to make sure she's okay?"

All eyes were on Hudson and Vasquez could tell that Haines was taking heed of his words because she looked back at him with sincerity. "Yes. I'm going to."

Hudson nodded, his jaw releasing a bit of its tension.

"I'm afraid you'll have to say your goodbyes now, you can't go further than this point," the nurse prompted Hudson gently and he blinked back in acknowledgement.

He moved in closer to Vasquez, staring down at her. His hand went to her face, his thumb making the slightest contact with her skin, brushing over her forehead and down one side of her cheek until his hand ultimately came to rest behind her ear, her hair between his fingers. "I'll be waiting for you when you get out… Everything's gonna work out. You're gonna be fine."

"Yeah," she said, feeling the nervousness once again. Hudson leaned in and she gave him a couple friendly pats on the back as he kissed her softly on the cheek before pulling away. Then he faked a smile.

"And Vaz? If you see a light… don't fuckin' go to it."

She gave a laugh, "You're an idiot."

The large glass doors opened and as the nurse wheeled her through, Vasquez couldn't help but look back at Hudson, standing in the middle of the corridor, staring back at her. Even as the doors began to close and there was a barrier of glass between them, Vasquez continued to crane her neck, watching as Hudson became smaller as the distance between them grew.

She thought about the last words she said to him: 'you're an idiot'. The words replayed in her mind. She knew there was a chance it could have been the last thing she ever said to him.

Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to her to say, 'thank you'.

A sudden panicked feeling hit her; an urge to jump off the gurney and limp back to him. To redo their goodbye so that she could say something kinder and give him a proper hug. She could ask the nurse to turn around, she could probably convince her to. Still, she remained silent, just watching Hudson stare back at her from farther and farther away.

Then, just like that, the hallway ended and the nurse turned the gurney around the corner. Her window of opportunity vanished as Hudson disappeared from sight.

.