(Music: "Supersonics", by Caravan Palace)


"Whut floor ehm I oonnn?"

5 shots each and a few hours later, and the Tulpar crew plus Hawkes were shit-faced drunk. Before he reached the point of no return, Hawkes instructed the room staff to loosen up their uniforms and join in the merrymaking. In his severely drunken state, he had mistakenly gone up to Annalise and quietly directed her to sit next to Daisuke, being painfully obvious in his implication without realizing it.

Whereas any other woman would have simply ignored the drunken Captain and continued their merrymaking, Annalise was a die-hard loyalist- and additionally, very dense. The Captain's failure to hide his agenda completely passed over Anna's head, and instead, she simply interpreted the order as an assignment to socialize with the resurrected to help them adjust to the land of the living again.

Enthusiastically, she sat down next to Daisuke, who yelped in a high pitch as he noticed her presence, gaining temporary sobriety.

"Hey, Daisuke!"

"H-Hey there, A-Annalise!"

Meanwhile, Jeremiah entered the room with a somewhat drunk Roble, the two of them instantly noticing the chaotic atmosphere. Many of the crewmates employed as waitstaff were engaged in all kinds of mischief and party games. A few of them were playing beer pong on the bar counter, some others were playing cards, two were playing chess (where the hell did they get a chessboard?), and the rest were sloppily dancing to the music pumping from the overhead speakers.

"I need some liquor in my system, stat!" Jeremiah immediately commented, and Roble smirked, leading him with a stumbling gait over to the bar counter to grab a bottle. At the same time, Swansea was drunkenly reading medical flashcards to an even more intoxicated Anya, quizzing her as Daisuke, Curly and Hawkes cheered Anya on from the sidelines.

"Okey. Nexx queshtion," Swansea muttered almost incomprehensibly, pulling the next flash card up to read. "Dehfine thuh ad-dreen-uhl cor-tecks (Define the adrenal cortex)."

Anya swayed back and forth, seemingly thinking on the question, before spitting out an answer like a robot.

"Outeerrrr... Outerrr sex-shin uhf tha adreeenal gland. It sec-kreets cor-ti-sahl, all-dough-ster-own, andddd-uhhhh, ssseeexxx hor-mones(Outer section of the adrenal gland. It secretes cortisol, aldosterone, and sex hormones)."

"Currrr-eckt!" Swansea announced boisterously, as Hawkes, Daisuke and Curly clapped wildly.

"Shee's on a rollll!" Daisuke slurred.

"Amay-zinggg!" Curly exclaimed with weary but spirited eyes, his mind still haunted and on the verge of breaking despite the severe lack of sobriety.

"Sum-one ghet her a troph-eee." Hawkes complimented, a bit shocked that his words were slurring when he wasn't concentrated on speaking. Anya smiled obliviously, waving at her supporters as if she'd just been elected to office.

"Nexcht question!" Swansea incoherently interjected. "Wheeh-ch part of thaa ver-teh-bruhl cah-naal will shooow sec-un-dehr-eee currr-ves, with cahn-cah-vit-eee back-werrds (Which part of the vertebral canal will show secondary curves, with concavity backwards?)"

Anya swayed back and forth once more, thinking on the question while fighting the urge to drop on her side and fall asleep.

"Thaa ser-vick-uhl an' lum-barrr reej-juhns (The cervical and lumbar regions). Tha curvess dev-ehl-uhp af-tur birth, and-uhhh are ass-osh-ee-ay-ted with thaa-uuhhh bah-dee's adaptation toooo up-right pause-shter and bye-ped-uhl lo-coh-moh-shun (The curves develop after birth, and are associated with the body's adaptation to upright posture and bipedal locomotion)."

"Currect, ag-ayn!" Swansea proclaimed loudly with overwhelming drunk stupor, pumping his fist in the air like he'd just watched his betting horse cross the finish line first. Again, the clapping from the peanut gallery erupted, humbly inviting thanks and salutations from Anya, who at this point was standing up and bowing several times over, offering thanks and beaming with pride.

How did she fail the medical exam eight times? Hawkes wondered in semi-coherent thought.

"Hey, Anya!"

Anya turned to Hawkes' voice, stumbling and placing her hands on her hips with acute confidence. Hawkes thought his heart would burst from how the sight overwhelmed his orbitofrontal cortex with adorable-ness.

"Do you know which medical schools you applied to? Just one of them, out of curiosity?"

Anya seemed a bit depressed by the question, but perked up again and started thinking on it.

"I ree-mem-burrr furrrstt app-lye-ing 'tah Hill-ee-uh's Sckhoool of Med-issh-innn, bbuut-"

Hilia's School of Medicine, perfect. A name is all I needed.

"Thanks, Anya!" Hawkes interjected as friendly as possible. "Sorry to interrupt your quick quizzing!" He joked, trying to distract from the question he just asked. Anya waved at him nonchalantly, smiling wholesomely.

"Nnnnooooo prob-lemmm!"

I'm gonna burn that fuckin' school and every other one that rejected her to the ground, Hawkes thought in casual malice. Firing squad the heads of departments, flay the decision-makers alive, and boil the school president in a vat of oil. Nice and efficient.

A thought entered his head, thinking back to Anya's adorable pose. Out of concern, Hawkes looked to Curly, worried that-

"Curly!" He muttered under his breath in alarm, seeing Curly had flopped back on the couch with a violent shiver- a rigid grin wrought across his face as he silently quivered.

Fuck, Hawkes thought in rising concern. He might have an actual heart attack.

That was no hyperbole, either- Hawkes had thought about the intricate problems with this whole 'reviving people from the dead' thing. When a person died, their emotions were pushed to their extremes, beyond anything they've ever felt in their life. Imagine dying with those otherworldly heights of emotions, then waking back up in the same life?

Without a doubt, from what Hawkes had observed, those death's door emotions came slamming back into their minds, wreaking havoc across their body, and decimating practically every complex component that summarized their existence. Everything from simple topics, to merely glancing at other returned friends or loved ones, to just thinking about the trauma, was enough to cause meltdowns, breakdowns, mental snaps, insanity, and a whole other troupe of issues.

So, in conclusion, Curly seeing his once-dead (alleged) lover exude such adorable energy sent his receptors into shock, which cascaded across the rest of his brain and body, amplified by the heightened emotions from death and subsequent resurrection. What a fucking headache to deal with.

It was times like these that Hawkes was always grateful for the invention of the Reformation Procedure- he could fix any issue they had. However, he had reservations about just 'curing' everything about them.

Physically, he had no issue restoring them to perfection. But when it came to mental issues, there were certain moral misgivings he had with it. No matter if it were an illness or an ailment, those were unfortunately part of who a person is or was. The primary fear that Hawkes had with removing those was if he removed such a key component to someone's life; they could potentially lose their sanity entirely by being pushed over the edge, not knowing who they were or being unable to comprehend reality without those key parts of them.

Perhaps, as time went on and they healed from their past, there could be a gradual reduction and eventual dissipation entirely. But right now, doing that was far too risky. Right now, they needed treatment.

Hawkes almost snickered out loud at himself. As often as he had used it to practice terror and evil on the wicked, he had discontinued it for torture ever since the Day of Erudition (A really stupid name, in his opinion), and had focused his full efforts on healing and improving people's lives.

It was the only path he was allowed because it was the path he had been gifted by the greatest. He was not going to squander this. Everything, every fiber of his being was dedicated to helping the innocent and punishing the guilty.

The only difference was, helping the innocent would be far more of an ordeal.

As everyone began to glance over to Curly to see what happened, Hawkes quickly diverted the conversation back to Anya.

"WhUt's thE nExT qUeSsstchun, ShwaaansSEAA?" Hawkes proclaimed giddily with a facade of being more drunk than he was, dancing with his upper torso while poking the air in rhythm with the song. Thankfully, everyone's attention returned back to Swansea, who didn't skip a beat in reading off the next question. Hawkes took the opportunity to silently sneak over to Curly to check on him.

"Hey. Hey. Curly, you good? Curly?" He whispered as he came up to inspect the blonde idiot. He was relieved to see Curly had stopped shivering, suddenly raising his head with wandering drunk-eyes and surveying the suite with regaining clarity.

"Y-Yeah... Wh-What happened?"

"You fell in love again. Anyways, can you keep an eye on Anya and drink some water? I gotta hit the men's room."

Curly jabbed a thumbs up and Hawkes quickly departed, heading towards the restroom door. He felt a surge of gratitude and affection for his crew as he didn't have to duck his head when going through it; they had taken a lot of time and care for this suite. And it wasn't for nothing.

He had saved their lives more times than the amount of years they'd lived. Not collectively, obviously, but individually. He wasn't sure why he had to clarify that in his thinking.

He entered the restroom and immediately went to a stall to relieve himself. He had drank a ton, after all. It wasn't dignified, but tis was the nature of any living being. Dignity was a facade made up by humans to seem above the station they were given in life; as vulgar, awkward, bumbling creatures whose only saving graces against the natural order were cunning, intellect, and a horrifying imagination for creativity.

Oh, and sweating, of course. They would still be monkeys if not for sweat evolution. Wow, what a pair of words to put together.


(Music: "Aftermath", by Caravan Palace)


"Ah, shit." Hawkes cursed silently, trying to finish his prolonged relief. "Song change, I need to get back out there and vibe right now."

He quickly re-did his belt and pants, sprint-walk-stumbling towards the sink to cleanse his sinful hands, and stormed through the door.

Seeing the faces of Curly, Anya, Swansea and Daisuke turn to face him, their eyes lighting up with affection and excitement, seeing their bodies relax and re-energized, seeing nothing except respect, admiration and hope resonate from them...

Hawkes was born in a dingy lower-class fiefdom on Canaris. His father was a metalworker, his mother a seamstress. Both were employed by the Canaris Global Federation as they were waging wars against pirates, rival nations and private mercenary groups. His father was cruel, but after being conscripted his cruelty found an outlet. He had eventually brought this home, inflicting it on the family for years.

Hawkes' mother died at his father's hands. And his father died at his hands. His brother had joined a gang to find alternative income and ended up dead from a drive-by. Hawkes moved off-world, finding nothing except contempt and abuse in the holdings of cruisers, freighters and carriers. Even as he was promoted, his young age garnered disrespect and loathing from his subordinates and superiors, along with his impoverished background.

He had to find respect through overwhelming, frightening violence. It was the norm for military vessels at the time, and he caught on quick. Ten years more, ten years before he finally gained some respect from his peers.

Ten years after that, he gained admiration from his crew and military.

Ten years once more, and he gained their trust- the whole damn kingdom.

But at no point in time, did he see affection in their eyes. At no point did he see love. Familial love.

And that was exactly what he witnessed in the eyes of those four only a few meters away. Love.

He had never seen this from his mother nor father, nor brother. He had long known he was the product of rape, that the mother hated the child and the father loathed him for being the burden that ended his nomadic lifestyle; that Hawkes' brother was a mutual conception thanks to his mother's Stockholm Syndrome, a brother who hated him for causing his parents such grief and rage for no apparent reason, one they did not disclose to him.

Such injustice. Such hypocrisy. Such ignorant evil.

And yet when he looked at these four, those thoughts that terrified and enraged him would fade away as if it were the morning mist of a rising sun.

Love. Love, love, love.

Loooove.

What a wonderful word, he thought to himself. It was the most fitting, most perfect word he could conceive to describe how he felt about them. Love.

It was settled. He had no family until today. These people- these beautiful souls- they were his family now. They were kin to him. A divine gift.

Thank. God.

"hEy hAwKeS!" Daisuke mumbled near-incoherently, waving over-dramatically as Hawkes exited the bathroom. Hawkes smiled genuinely, waving back at him- more sober and euphoric than ever before. Minus the sober part.

"Hey Daisuke!" He replied with a beaming smile. He wanted to go and sit with them so badly. But he needed to take care of some minor issues first. He turned on his shoulder radio, speaking to a few people before he went back to his comfort.

"Hawkes here, you hear me, Ali?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Start the renovations on their rooms early tomorrow."

"Fuck... Hawkes, dude, we're gonna be hung over as hell."

"I'm sorry, did hangover cures become obsolete when I wasn't looking? Here's some tips, crack an egg over a beer and chug it."

"That was only one tip, Cap-"

Click. He switched to the next channel.

"Jazz."

"Jazz here, what's up?"

"Suite. Now."

Before Jazz could respond, Hawkes switched the radio to the next channel. He was pissed at Jazz; solely over his bullshit speech about Anya during the Ritual. He had his reservations on what happened, but he wanted a damn good explanation from Jazz on why he would lie during a revival procession.

"Lily. Hawkes here." He whispered as loud as he could over the music and noise.

"Here, beautiful."

"I told you to stop the flirting. I need you to have some agents keep an eye on the four we resurrected, 24/7."

"Done. When are you free tomorrow?"

"Never... maybe."

Click.

Hawkes exhaled, trying to fight off the urge to fall over and find slumber. He wasn't going to waste a second of this precious time. Two more. He changed the channel.

"Annie, you there? It's Hawkes."

"Fuck you want? I'm partying."

Hawkes half-grinned , having always enjoyed the crude behavior and language of the Chief Medical Officer. It reminded him of his home district.

"I'm not asking you to stop. Tomorrow (write this down, you forgetful ditz) I'd like you to perform a mental evaluation of the Tulpar crew, I'll be present."

"Why do you always make wishes that can't be granted? I shouldn't have to reiterate why evaluations are isolated between the CMO and the patient."

"I'm the Captain. My wishes are always granted."

Hawkes had come off more strongly than he intended, but the message seemed more than sufficient.

"Very well, Admiral."

Hawkes laughed, then sneered at the crass rebuttal. Hawkes was an admiral, a commander of several ships in a fleet, but for this rescue mission he had been temporarily bumped down to the rank of Captain since he was only commandeering one ship. Apparently, the reasoning for this had been, "If an admiral dies during a non-combat operation, it is far worse of a hit to public morale than a captain dying."

What the fuck? Shockingly, Hawkes was somewhat understanding of the reasoning, no matter how cold-blooded it was. Seeing 'Admiral Dead During Rescue Operation' in the headlines was not good for morale, and since Canaris was still fighting two wars with other nations, that morale was key to winning the whole conflict.

He turned off the radio, knowing he was better than to respond spitefully to Annie's provocations-

Click.

"Hope the love life is progressing well, Annie."

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY YOU SON OF A BITC-"

Click.

Satisfying.

Last one. He switched to the Divinity Channel, this time hearing Jazz's shaky voice.

"S-So, uh, Captain Hawkes, we're all good right?"

"Get that sack of shit ready for resurrection, then dose him until he's in a coma for twenty-four hours. I don't want to hear his name spoken by anyone. After he's back, tie him down and shove him into Interrogation. Then you can come up and hang out in the Captain's Suite."

Jazz exhaled through the radio in relief, seemingly glad he wasn't getting reamed out.

"Yes, sir."

Click. He was still getting reamed out.

Hawkes purged his mind of the last few seconds, trying to clear his mind rapidly before any form of rage could onset. He practically skipped over to the four of them-

...

To his family.


(Music: "Tension", by Avery Alexander)


"Miss Lilia, Mr. Frank is on the line."

"Patch him over."

Lilia, Chief of Espionage for the Argonaut II, was swiveling in her chair to handle the deluge of different assignments, tasks and issues that assailed her every minute. Being a workaholic, she absolutely loved this role, giving her overactive mind a constant stimulation that itched that scratch she'd been looking for her whole life.

"Lilia here. Any sign of trouble afar?"

"Hey. Yeah, there's a renegade armada with no sigil readings. They're on a different course, though, and they've got some serious manpower and weaponry. We should let them cruise by."

Lilia chuckled in slight amusement. Had this been three months ago, her report to Hawkes would have resulted in an inevitable fight. That stubborn bastard possessed a hate for pirates she'd never seen in anyone else, her whole life. Everytime they won the fight, having disabled the engines, blown up the bridge and obliterating the enemy armaments, they would board these pirate ships.

There would always be captives onboard- always. No pirate could survive long in the outer reaches of space without a penchant for raiding weaker ships and getting involved in the slave market. The first time she had seen him free those captives and grant them comfort and reprieve, she had been a cold skeptic- believing it to be nothing more than a political stunt to make himself look better.

The second time, she wondered.

The fiftieth time, she knew. She knew.

In this hellish society, with these pig-fucker leaders and autocrats and elitists and useful idiots... there was a real-life hero. Tainted as he may have been, he was a hero to her. She'd served as a spy, an informant, a double agent and an undercover detective for over twenty years. At the ripe old age of 35, she was a master in her craft. But for 15 of those years, she felt soulless. Empty. Aimless. In her role, she'd seen the absolute worst that humanity had to offer, and no further statements could fully detail nor explain that kind of depravity- what it did to the human mind.

But on one fateful day, she was given a contract to spy on Admiral Hawkes, of the 8th Canaris Fleet.

Lilia pressed the button to speak over the radio.

"We'll let them cruise by, then."

"Should we warp now to avoid confrontation?"

"No. It takes a while to spool our FTL drivers, and the energy it gives off while it warms up is detectable within several millions of miles. We're sure to get found and shot at if we do it."

"Copy that."

Lilia switched her radio to General, secretly hoping Hawkes would call her to request something. She had been obsessed with him for the last ten years. After being promoted to Chief of Espionage, she was granted access to every surveillance device onboard. With this overwhelming power, she naturally spent several waking moments watching, listening and understanding the Captain's words and actions.

The more she listened, the more she saw- the more she felt connected to him, empathized with him. She'd spent her whole life studying others, seeing the worst and best sides of them all. Those 'worse' sides were far more plentiful than the best.

But with Hawkes... he was, without a doubt, a hero. She'd spent so much time trying to know him, brute-hacking and scouring through his locked-away government records, studying his every movement, interpreting his actions and words in with multiple ledgers of those movements.

Over the years, she'd accumulated a handful of subordinates in her position, those who knew of her obsession and were still loyal after years of dutiful service. These people were trusted with her most secretive of tasks; infiltrating gatherings, eavesdropping on private conversations, jotting down the movements and behaviors of troublesome crewmates.

Most of the head of crew were at the end-result of veterancy; more than a decade for most of them. Their direct subordinates were loyal, efficient and reliable. Their minds were clear of trouble, their morale unwavering.

But Lilia was the reason for this. She had weeded out the cancerous tumors that had boarded this vessel. Whether by imprisonment in the brig, severe punishments for atonement, or outright execution for foiled plots- she had been the maintainer of this ship's safety and order; through surveillance, a proactive mindset, and a network of trustworthy spies who were willing to die before giving up her name. Her role and theirs were known only by the Heads of Departments- and the true identities of her informants were only known by her.

A perfect system, that she had devised for optimum security and full accountability. A system she had created and wanted so badly to put in place. And Hawkes -God! That fucking beautiful man!- had given her the greenlight to implement it however she pleased.

This was her paying him back, for everything he'd done for her. She'd seen every interaction of him on the ship. Every single one for fifteen years. There wasn't a single moment where he doubted his crew, or talked shit behind their backs; there wasn't a single instance or occurrence where he acted out of hubris or cowardice or self-interest. For fifteen fucking years! He was an unwavering force of nature, to her. And a force for good.

She was aware of what he did to criminals in the Interrogation Room. She was aware of his flaws, his insecurities, his imperfections, his moments of self-doubt and depression. She knew his history, for the last fifteen years and everything she could find in records or from witness accounts since his birth, as much as she possibly could. She just wanted to understand what made him tick- especially from how he was raised... how could he form such a heroic mindset and stick by it? With such intellect, how did he not grow slothful, or lazy, or contemptuous of the world and lose all hope? How did he find the determination to reach a goal known to no one but himself?

When his whole personality and mindset switched in the last two months, Lilia was only driven into a frenzy of curiosity. More questions, less answers. The discovery of resurrection. The discovery of an afterlife- of a creator, of a universe that was designed...

Her mind raced. And raced. And raced. It was all so interesting. She just needed time to sort it all out. And throughout this time, she had only Hawkes to thank. For centering her mind, centering her world, around a beacon of hope and steadfast leader in these changing times.

She was eternally grateful for having ever met him. She would protect him at all costs. And she would continue to do so, to guard the man she venerated as the most heroic person she'd ever met.

"Lilia, I've got the prints for that armada."

"Give 'em here, Ozzy."

The First Agent, Ozzy, handed the documents over to Lilia, who scanned them with pinpoint focus.

"Send copies of these to the Heads of Departments."

"Roger. By the by, are you still watching the Suite Cam?"

"Please exit this room with haste."

"Why don't you just ask him out?"

"LEAVE- THE- ROOM- PLEASE."

Ozzy snickered plentifully as Lilia, frustrated, returned to her work.

Bzzt.

"Lily, Hawkes here."

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OHMYGOSH-

Lilia recomposed herself, answering the radio with giddy excitement.

"Hey, beautiful." She flirted over the radio. Despite being a master spy with decades of experience, she had absolutely no understanding of social conventions nor romance in the slightest. She had spent most of her teenage and adult life watching other people interact, which meant she had no opportunity to accumulate this experience herself.

"I told you to stop the flirting. I need you to have some agents keep an eye on the four we resurrected, 24/7."

"Done. When are you free tomorrow?"

She pitched the question with earnest, even if she knew the answer every single time.

"Never."

She barely smiled, shaking her head in disappointment. She was hurt every time he said it, but she would never want to impose-

"...Maybe."

"AAAAAHAAHAHAAHHAHAHHAAHAHAHAAAA!"

As the radio clicked off, Lilia squealed in absolute euphoria, punching the air to release the pent-up energy that had been brewing inside her. Ozzy came back around the corner, relaying more news.

"The CMO says she wants to-"

"TELL THAT BITCH TO FUCK OFF AND D- Ahem. Ahem. Mmm."

Lilia quickly recomposed herself, trying to ignore the deluge of eyes glancing towards her in slight concern. Her host of subordinates expected those kinds of outbursts from Hawkes, but not their usually calm and collected Chief.

...

Then, the room collectively reconsidered their thoughts and summarily, unanimously concluded that this was, in fact, in line with their Chief of Espionage's past behavior, and continued their work diligently.


(Music: "Lady, Hear Me Tonight", by Modjo)


The Captain's Suite was once more abuzz, as the alcohol wore off somewhat and left most of the room in a state of perfect non-sobriety. A Modern-Era song was jamming on the overhead speakers, and the first one to jump up and start dancing was none other than Daisuke, equipped with a pair of sunglasses Hawkes had gifted him from his bedroom drawer.

Swansea cheered him on, while Curly and Anya were talking privately to one another, serious expressions on their faces. That damnable look of terror hadn't dissipated from behind their eyes. Hawkes badly wanted to intrude on their conversation to know what they were discussing, but he knew that was going to turn them away. He decided to let them be for a few minutes- but not for too long. He had a ping pong match set up next.

"Hawkes."

Hawkes turned his head to Swansea, who was leaning against the couch, beaming with pride at Daisuke as he danced.

"Thank you."

Hawkes needed no other words to understand the depths of Swansea's gratitude- it was tenfold the gratitude he had received from people whose lives he had snatched from death. It exhumed from every pore of Swansea, echoing sentiments of deep, deep thankfulness that stretched beyond what words could possibly describe.

Hawkes smiled at him, feeling a stirring of emotion he hadn't felt in decades.

"I am not sure how you perceive me, Swansea," Captain Hawkes conceded with genuine remorse. "And whatever you may learn of me in the future, I hope you'll... still see someone worth being around."

He was surprised when Swansea scooted over, placing his hand firmly on Hawkes' shoulder (having to stretch his arm to the max limit) and looking Hawkes dead in the eyes.

"We all have skeletons in our closet. You gave us something that could only happen in a dream. I couldn't give less of a single fuck what people have to say, or what your past was like. You saved the people who were- are my world. My entire world. As far as I'm concerned, I'm indebted to you for the rest of my life and beyond."

Hawkes felt light stabs of pain in his eyes, fearing the onset of tears. It would not do for a Captain to cry in front of anyone, much less those he'd just brought back from the dead. It did not inspire confidence in others to see their highest authority lose his composure.

"Th...Thank you, Swansea." Hawkes said with a breaking voice, turning his head away to conceal the tears running down his cheeks. "You deserve the world, and I will g...give it to you no matter what."

Hawkes quickly stood up from the couch, covering his face with his hand and disguising it as a coughing fit, returning to the restroom once more.

How undignified! Hawkes raged at himself. The Captain of the ship, frequenting the stalls like some sort of blitzed bozo! This would be the last time he entered this cursed restroom... unless he genuinely needed to relieve himself, of course. He wasn't stupid.

Hawkes opened the stall with the most leg room, sitting on the top of the toilet seat and pondering. The tears continued to stream down his cheeks, but it was easier to let it happen when no eyes were concentrated on him.

"What to do next?" He muttered confusedly, trying to piece together the next plan of action. He had given them comfort, provided them food and booze, given them the warmth and coziness of a social, fun atmosphere... what was next? What was... what was next?

Perhaps... perhaps after this, they could pass out here and wait until their room renovations were done. There were still two months left for the return trip; the rescue mission only took a year because the flight path was so spotty and indecipherable most of the time; yet another failing of that shit-bred fuck-wad useless detritus of a pithy company, Pony Express.

"I'm gonna- heheh! I'm gonna fucking eviscerate them in court. I'm gonna destroy their companies and find their names and home addresses. I'm gonna take over as their transport to the prison systems and torture them the entire trip- Ghhh!"

He smacked himself in the head a multitude of times, utterly enraged at his mental block- he was thinking of so many ways to help the Tulpar crew recover, he could barely conceive plans for the next day without thinking of everything involving them.

Why? Why was it so hard to help people? Why was it so complex? This wasn't a one-and-done issue like blowing up a pirate vessel, or capturing an integral enemy's team of scientists, or even hosting negotiations for a cruiser full of hostages. This was a day-to-day struggle of constantly maintaining and ensuring one's mental and physical states were okey dokey.

He wanted them to be okay. FUCK! He wanted them to be okay! Just to-

Knock, knock.

"Captain, can I use this stall? The other one's clogged with toilet paper."

"FU-"

Hawkes had been prepared to launch a barrage of verbal replies tinged with animosity, but decided against it. He sighed and covered his face with his hands. What was he thinking? Couldn't he just get his thoughts together?

"So... is that a no, then?"

"Name, rank and ID number, please."

That sentence alone sent whoever was behind the door scurrying out of the bathroom. Hawkes snickered, getting up and dusting himself off again.

"Fuckin' belligerents." He muttered, exiting the bathroom just in time to see Anya and Curly scuffling out of the Suite quietly. With concern, he quickly moved over to where Swansea was, sipping from a glass of wine while watching Daisuke, still dancing, and tapping his feet to the rhythm of the song.

"Hey hey, Swansea."

"Wazzaaaap, Hawkes." Swansea greeted him casually. "You havin' a good time?"

Hawkes nodded with a forced smile. His anxiety was gnawing at him over Curly and Anya's recent actions.

"I saw those two early scurrying off, are they going to do some dirty business?" Hawkes questioned mischieviously with a sly grin, putting on a clear facade to extract information. Swansea laughed and shook his head.

"No, no. They just said they were gonna have a private talk for a bit. I'm a bit thankful, cuz they were bringing down my energy for a while..."

"Uh huh!" Hawkes said dismissively as he immediately stood up and practically floated across the room to an empty corner, turning on his radio.

"Lilia, come in."

"Where do you think we should go? I was thinking we could try out Hephalia's Garden once we get back to Canaris!"

"Wh..What? Sure, whatever. Listen, I need you to-"

"REALLY?"

Hawkes was overwhelmed by the energy pouring out of the radio, and almost regretted whatever he had just agreed to. Still, his primary concern was Curly and Anya- he could deal with these other issues later on.

"Yes, really. I need you focused. Please get your spies to follow Curly and Anya, and whatever room they enter, route the wiretaps and hidden cameras to my headset and holopad."

"You got it, Hawkes."

Hawkes shivered slightly as the milky voice poured over the radio, before it turned off from the other end. Now that he had a few seconds to think, he realized he might just have agreed to a date with Lilia.

Oh, well. Whether or not it worked out, he knew there'd be no efficiency issue with the ship. Lilia was reliable by every standard, regardless of whatever emotions she had brewing inside her.

Having resolved the remainder of the issues, Hawkes sat down, tired, on the couch alongside Swansea, admiring the endurance and ability to dance that Daisuke possessed.

"Swansea, what do you think of me?" Hawkes muttered. Swansea looked over at him, then back at Daisuke, pondering.

...

"I think you're an amazing human being. Brought us back, spoiled us, gave us relief from the endless nightmare. I still have a hundred thousand questions about what the fuck is going on. I still don't fully trust this situation. I still partially think this is some twisted, long-form dream that I'm gonna wake up from and realize I'm still stuck on that piece of shit freighter."

Swansea exhaled, as if glad to voice his thoughts.

"But, for once in my fuckin' life, I actually feel... hope. I feel like I have a chance to breathe, like my chest isn't always tightened, choking and crushing me from the inside over time. I feel like I'd won the lottery. I had so many fuckin' wishes when I died... I had regrets like you wouldn't believe. Daisuke... his... past life... was un-fuckin-fair. I hated it beyond what words could do justice. I hated it."

He turned to Hawkes, with tired but ever-grateful eyes shining anew.

"But you... you managed to fix everything I wanted. You... fuck, you're like an actual savior. How the hell else could I describe you? I'm not going to brown-nose. But you did the impossible. And before my very eyes, is all the proof I need."

His eyes switched back to Daisuke, his face softened into new and youthful vigor.

"So what do I think of you... I think you can do no wrong, at this point. As long as you aren't some psycho bastard getting a kick out of seeing us happy again-"

Hawkes laughed, once again glad to see Swansea had similar thoughts to his.

"-Then as far as I'm concerned, you're someone whose corner I want to be in."

Hawkes bowed his head in deep appreciation, deeper than any he'd felt in his entire life.

"The feeling is mutual, Swansea. I will dedicate my life to protecting you, Anya, Curly and Daisuke."

Swansea chuckled somewhat awkwardly.

"Well, I didn't say you had to be our bodyguards the whole time, heh. But we appreciate it. You're a good soul, and I'm constantly grateful that you gave us this. All of this."

Hawkes nodded respectfully, his mind invaded totally by an urge to see this band of crewmates perpetually happy.

"Thank you, Swansea... I hope you don't mind. I need to tend to a radio call-"

Swansea waved him off gently, smiling. "Do what you gotta do. No need to coddle us."

Actually, that is precisely my job, Hawkes thought worriedly, tuning in to the radio that was buzzing alert notifications from Lilia.

"Lily, did you do it?"

"Yeah. Patch in to listen, whenever."