Post 57

You can see the pattern of the old man’s bones in your head. The image of the damage from whatever punched through him seems superimposed on your own body somehow. Kiros is conscious and you can tell he’s in pain, but worse, you can smell something that reminds you of your mother. Sickly sweet. The smell on her breath when she came to get you and Chiyoko a million years ago. Musty and sugary all at the same time. It makes you gag a little, but the smell stays with you. He’s dying, you think to yourself without knowing how you know. You blink and the image of his muscles, bones, and nerves are laid out against your corneas. Not the fake ones in the body your mother made you, but the real ones made of light now trapped behind the human mask. For the first time, you can see the light around Kiros. The same light you remember from your childhood, before you materialized, but even as you watch, it starts to dim and flow out towards the Void. Without thinking, you reach out and catch it. A tiny river of light trapped in your little hands. You bring it back towards Kiros’s body, but it won’t stay put and won’t go back in. Tears start to form at the corners of your eyes as you keep trying to shove the light back in and the sugar-smell gets stronger. You don’t know what to do. 

Through the human-mask tears, you look around desperately for something in the ship. Something to tell you what to do. But the instruments are cold and you can’t feel anything from them. Around you and Kiros is just the emptiness of whatever he’s hid you both in. Hiding. Hiding from Thiel. An image of your mother flashes in your mind’s eye again as she tells you to hide. You can’t help it. You reach out in your mind, just like you did as a baby, searching for the silver cord that always tied you to her. :Mama!: you try to call, but the cord is severed and there’s nothing but emptiness in the Void. It makes you cry harder. You’re in pain. A lot of pain. More pain than you’ve ever felt before, in fact. You realize it’s not your grief or even fear for Chiyoko. It’s something more. When you look down, the same kind of cord that used to be your lifeline to your mother is now tied into Kiros, only, it’s different. Muddy, not the clean silver of hers. And instead of a tie, it seems to be some kind of channel from you to Kiros. You watch your own light flow down it, into his body, pooling in the gaping hole that had been his chest muscles. You touch your own left chest. When you do, you see the light abruptly flare and instead of pooling, flood your chest with the images of Kiros’s internal organs, nerves, lungs, everything. The hole is now in your chest. It’s killing you. You’re drowning in the smell of death. You can’t see or hear or feel anything but the red-hot magma of Kiros’s wound burying itself deeper and deeper into you. There’s light everywhere, like falling into the heart of a sun. For an instant, you feel yourself burning up, letting the heat take you, almost in relief before something in your psyche snaps you back. Anger, dark and bitter, shoves the light down and you focus it on the hole in your heart. The one pulsing now with red-black energy. The one eating your life-force and generating this wall of pain. You shove your anger and all the teal-green light around you into the hole, filling in the difference with muscles, nerves, bone. All the things from the images burned into your Sight, you lay it down as a template on your own chest and flood it with all the energy swirling around you until the hole is gone, the rage is gone, the Sight vanishes, and there’s nothing but pain and exhaustion giving you little gasps as you stare up at the ceiling of Kiros’s ship.

After a moment, you can see Kiros is staring down at you. His brown weathered face fills up your vision. He looks younger, somehow. But that can’t be right. You close your eyes and feel his hand rest lightly on your forehead. And, as if the touch opened some kind of door, suddenly, you feel amazement, greed, shock, exhilaration all rush into you. Thoughts, too, though these are harder to hear through the maelstrom of feelings, echo in your head just like Mother’s used to. :Boy’s a biopsionic? And so strong! How?: You shy away from the images and the thoughts, trying in vain to move his hand off you. You can feel that he’s just trying to see if you are alive and conscious, but...there’s something wrong. He wants you. He wants you to do things. You don’t know the names for the feelings he’s generating, but they feel like the Thiel woman’s. They feel wrong. Threatening, frightening. You’re so tired, though, and his hand is so heavy. Finally, you manage to remember that you can talk. “Please,” you whisper, pushing at his hand weakly. “Please, don’t touch me. It hurts.” Kiros’s hand immediately disappears and you can breathe better. His feelings are still all around you, but not as intense and you stop hearing his thoughts. 

“Hoshi-boy, are you alright? What did you do to me?” The words weren’t accusatory and you feel nothing but kindness coming from him now and you let out a sigh in relief. 

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to sit up, but getting so nauseated, you lie back heavily and keep your eyes closed. “I--”

“You Healed me! Hoshi-boy, I didn’t know you were a biopsionic! That’s amazing!” You can feel Kiros moving as if to touch you again and you shy away.

“No,” you say weakly, trying to keep him away from you, but he scoops you up and hugs you tightly to him. The same wash of slimy feelings pour over you. It makes you sicker.

“Hoshi-boy, this is great news! Great news! No wonder Thiel wanted you and your sister. Can Hoshi-daughter do this as well? Nevermind. Do you know how rare you are? A real-life biopsionic. On my ship! Mine! Oh, this is great news, Hoshi. Great news!” There’s another flood of the slime into your mind and you throw up all over Kiros in response, keeping your eyes firmly shut. The sickness seems worse the more you look at him and the more physical contact you have. He doesn’t seem to mind. “There, there, little bio-gen. Of course, you must be tuckered out. Don’t you worry. Not to worry. Uncle Kiros is here. Things are going to be so much better now, you’ll see.” You’re too tired to resist, even as something in you screams to run away. And anyway, where would you go? Kiros doesn’t seem to notice, humming to himself as he takes you towards the cleaning room, already starting to strip off soiled clothes.

***

It’s dark in the Void. You forgot how much light bodies had. And how that light was always comforting, even when it did terrible things to you. Strange, you think, floating in a sea of blackness. Strange that I don’t come here more often. It’s so quiet. You’re so alone and it’s wonderful. No emotions, no needs, no pain, no selfishness, nothing but you floating in the dark. It’s refreshing. Almost. Something is leeching part of you, like bleeding from an open wound. But you don’t have blood. Or a body, now, evidently. You turn over memories as they show up in your mind, one-by-one. You haven’t remembered your mother in a long time. Or the day you lost Chiyoko. You don’t often come back to those. But you don’t seem to be in control now, if you ever were. The Void drifts through you, like the ocean pulling the driftwood of your past in front of your Sight. But here, it doesn’t hurt. Alone, safe. 

The leech is too strong. You know it’s killing you, but here, cradled in the dark, you’re not really sure you care. It’d be a relief, not a punishment to die here, so you drift. 

At some point, you’re not sure when, mostly because time doesn’t matter, you notice you’re not alone. There’s a feeling of Other. A presence, both familiar and very, very strange. It’s unexpected enough that it makes you blink awake out of the relaxed stupor you’ve been floating in. When you open your ‘eyes,’ you see a young woman, her outline in silver-copper light hovering in the darkness. She’s looking down, as if reading something on her lap. Her feet seem to be braced on something invisible, but the strong, clear silver outlines of her Void form are very soothing. You don’t want to See her. You don’t want to feel what she’s feeling. For a moment, you resent someone else in the darkness with you. All that pain, all that need infringing on your blessed silence. But, to your surprise, you don’t feel anything from her. And not in the bad way, not as if her soul has died or she’d burned out part of herself. It wasn’t the quiet of despair, abuse, or neglect. It was just...quiet. 

You drift closer.

She doesn’t acknowledge you, but as you drift to her side, the Void changes. She takes the darkness and warps it into a living forest. Suddenly, you and her are in a treehouse, high above the forest floor. A giant tree sprawls hundreds of feet up in the air and below your feet, with only a slim, winding ramp from the ground. Rope bridges connect to other giant trees off in the distance. This house wraps around you with warm lanterns and the sound of rain on the wall-length windows that shiver slightly in the storm’s breeze. The air smells like wood and rain and you inhale deeply, realizing she’s given you a body in this Void. You have a form again. It feels like a blanket around your shoulders. The girl hands you something hot, sweet, and steaming and you realize you’re sitting in a comfortable chair, surrounded by books. She drapes an actual blanket over you as you take the mug. 

“Hello,” she says. 

Words. You haven’t heard words in a very, very long time. You haven’t spoken in a very, very long time. :Hello: you think back at her. She smiles at you. 

“Would you like to read something?”

You look around at the books covering the wooden walls from floor to ceiling, twisting around the giant tree trunk in the center of the room and seeming to grow off the branches spanning the floor and joints. :What would I read?: you ask. None of the books have titles you can see. She shrugs and a single, red-bound book with a leaf on the cover falls out onto the table between you. 

“Whatever you’d like. If you don’t like this life’s memories, I have others.” She motions to the other trees tied together with rope bridges. “I’ve lived many, many lives. There are some good stories here.”

:Ah, this is your soul-scape? Your memories?: You remember your mother used to stay with you like this, before you materialized. It’s very comforting. You settle deeper into the chair, inarticulately soothed by the familiarity. :You’re Heilong?: You’re surprised. She doesn’t feel like one of the Void people. She actually feels very human. 

“I’m not Heilong. But yes,” she gives the soul-scape a little wave. “I thought you might feel more comfortable meeting me this way.” She gives you a happy, innocent smile. “I’m a new friend. Though you don’t know that yet.”

You like her immediately. When you stretch out with your senses, you can’t feel any pain from her. Just light. Well-controlled, disciplined light that welcomes your mental touch, but keeps her and you separate. You reach out a hand instead, she immediately grips it to press against her cheek. You feel energy wrap around you, penetrate your skin, and something empty in you starts to fill. There’s no lust, no greed, no hope, nothing. Just quiet light pouring around you. You’ve never met anyone that didn’t take the light from you, much less someone who gave it back or who let you be alone. Something in you starts to relax for the first time since your mother died. You lean out of the chair to sit at the girl’s feet and lay your head on her knees. She strokes her hand through your hair and you let out a sigh of relief and close your eyes, wallowing in the sensation of comfort. :This is very kind of you. Not many humans would be able to think of something like this,: you say. :At least, not without wanting me to do something for it. Usually sex. But I can’t feel anything from you. What are you?:

“A bio-psionic. Like you. We are brother and sister, you and me. I thought you might need a little help coming back to the world. Your body is almost done growing.”

:My body?: you’re confused for a moment. :Oh. Right. I don’t exist yet. But it’s nice to just be here for a while.: You like feeling her calm quiet all around. :I don’t want to go back yet.:

“You don’t have to. You’ve had a hard road,” she agrees. “My gift isn’t nearly as strong as yours, thank goodness. But then, people have been nicer to me than they’ve been to you. I haven’t had to use it as much.” 

:People.: You can’t sigh mentally, but the thought of being around the press of people again makes you tired. :Maybe I won’t go back this time,: you say, hoping to hear her tell you that you have to.

“Maybe you won’t,” she agrees and then falls quiet. You like the way you can hear the rain outside, the warmth of the girl’s skin, and the peace of the library and your own emotions without the usual clutter. “Kas is an interesting person,” the girl says, breaking into the silence. “Very conflicted. Very caring. Lots of emotions buried in layers with that one.”

You don’t say anything, but you can feel a restlessness in your heart at Kas’s name. Hatred, need, frustration, hope. At the thought, you can see another cord spark into existence, leading out, away from the forest, back, presumably, to Kas. The girl watches the cord stretch out into the Void with you. “Very interesting person. You and Kas have a number of things in common, I think.”

:We have nothing in common,: you grouse and lever yourself off her lap to slink back into the chair, peace broken.

“Oh, I think you’re going to be surprised,” says the girl. “I think Chiyoko will be surprised to see you as well.”

You start, calm now completely dispersed. “Chiyoko? How do you know about Chiyoko? Have you been spying on me?”

The girl shakes her head. “You were in so much pain, you were broadcasting to anyone who would listen. You didn’t have enough energy or self to even make it coherent. Just mindless pain and raw memories floating around.”

You frown, and open your mouth as if to argue with her. She pats you. “Now, don’t worry. I sent Kas off to play with Shori, so it’s just you and me in the world. No one else can get hurt.” She catches a look of the confusion of emotions that may be playing on your face. “Kas won’t know anything. Until you talk about it. Or don’t,” she says, shrugging a little. “But you may be surprised. Kas has layers.”

“Crusty layers,” you grump, which makes the girl laugh. 

“The irony of that may be lost on you right now, old man, but I’m sure this will be hilarious when you’re not quite so ephemeral.”

You narrow your eyes at the girl. You feel like you are being manipulated somehow, but you can’t read her, and it makes you nervous. “You made me a body?”

“Kas did. A Pontifax shell. I’m just helping it along a little.”

“Are you sure you’re not Heilong?” you ask in disbelief. “How many other cultures can just grow new bodies and build soul-scapes and talk about other lifetimes in the Void without breaking a sweat?”

She vaporizes her image in the soul-scape, liquifying it, spiraling it out until it resembles nothing more than smoke caught in rings of air and twines through your arms, legs, hair, skin. :I’m a Temperance Monk, among other things: she says. :And a good one.:

“I don’t know what that is,” you say, trying to follow the motion of the smoke around you until the patterns are so confused between wood and you and leaves you can’t tell where any of it starts and stops. 

:I know. Don’t worry, you’re about to find out. It’s time to wake up, Jiro. WAKE UP.:

Episode 12

It’s been well over a week. Maybe two. Or three. Time all flows together, and frankly, you’re not in too much of a hurry to make it stay put. Mercedes assures you that no one can find you here in the monastery and that even your frequent visits to the ship won’t go noticed. 

She’s chewing on some kind of candy, reading something that looks like a paper product. Magazine, you think was the name. You’ve never seen print media before. Her long legs are braced up against one of the pure-white walls and she doesn’t even bother to look at you to answer your question. “Go ahead, Kas. No one is going to care about you scavenging that mercenary run-about. Or going out to Shori. The nearest city is about twenty miles in the wrong direction through jungle and bad choices. And corporate already went through this area. Or so they think.” She shrugs and pops the candy out of her mouth. “No one gives a damn, dearheart. Go play with your engines.”

You scowl at her. She doesn’t seem to notice, smiling sweetly back. It reminds you of Hoshi, which immediately pisses you off. For...reasons. “I’m going to have to make several trips, I don’t think you understand the situation here. I’m going to be cannibalizing parts and installing an engine in Shori and that’s going to make noise and draw attention. Are you sure there isn’t somewhere better I can do that?”

She shrugs and looks back to her reading. “Do whatever you want, I’m not going to stop you, but I can tell you, the only things out in the jungle are things that want to be left alone.” She stops, as if something just occurred to her. “Kas, are you scared?” She drops the paper and her feet to cock her head and look at you. Deeply. Absorbedly. It’s very disconcerting. You drop your eyes. “No, of course I’m not scared. What would I be scared about?” You flex your rifle off your shoulder enough to give it emphasis. “I have Zubaida here. Not like I can’t take care of myself.” But you don’t admit that your implants seem to be behaving oddly in this atmosphere and you have the worst, creeping sense of doom that just seems to lurk constantly in your heart….

As if she heard you, Mercedes smiles at you and puts a hand directly on your chest, staring at her own fingers as if they were something other than her body. “I see,” she says. “Kas, Hoshi is going to be fine. I’m here. His new body is growing nicely. He’s starting to absorb energy again.” She looks over to the blue-green mash of mist pooled in what might have been a fountain under the clerestory window sunlight. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not worried. Who’s worried?” you scoff, or try to, but it comes out all sticky and you feel like an asshole for even saying the words. 

“Uh huh,” is all she says, pulling her hand away from your heart and going back to her reading. “Whatever you say, Kas. Hoshi and I will be fine here. Go play with your toys. We’ll get along alright here by ourselves.” She gives you a side-long look. “Or is that what you’re afraid of? That I’ll steal your Hoshi?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you grump, grabbing your pack and storming out towards the exit. “My Hoshi, my ass.”

She bursts out into delighted laughter as you book it out of the monastery towards Shori. 

At least Shori will be glad to see me, you think, delicately disengaging the holographic projector Mercedes had set up for you at the doorway to the monastery and easing your way into the thick jungle air. It always felt a little like drowning before your lungs caught up to the increased humidity levels and your implant sensors adjusted to the new homeostatic norms. It was decidedly unpleasant. Organics are disgusting, you think, per usual, as you encounter the normal smells of decomposition, fecal matter, stagnant water and other living systems. Nature is highly overrated. You are proud that the calls of wildlife only startle you a few times now, and you only grab Zubaida once out of pure panic when something winged lurches out of the trees at you. Progress. 

Once at the mercenary ship, you pull out your trusty, foldable servo and shake it out on the jungle floor. The thing unfolds into its four-legged, dog-like self and waits for instruction. You gently tug its ‘head’ to you, unfurling a tiny nano-filament data-jack from your finger and inserting it into the servo’s port, downloading the programming you’d spent the morning putting together in your memory-drives. This was the last trip. With the mercenary atmospheric thruster systems, master control panel, and energy conversion package, you’re planning on making the final install of the non-biological propulsion systems in the next few days. Should be easy enough, provided Shori is less stubborn than Hoshi and actually lets me do my goddamn job, you think in annoyance as you start removing systems and placing them in the servo’s cargo carry-all. Its front little paws are wrist deep in the engine compartment, disengaging the reactor core for you, since the radiation would melt your skin. Shame I’m not fully cybernetic, but then, the world is an imperfect place. Besides, Hoshi doesn’t seem to mind a little skin. The thought makes you blush, surprised at yourself, before you mercilessly shut down that thinking and focus on the complicated work of demolition and installation before you. 

Places to go and things to do, you think as you and the servo finish cutting out the parts and make your way to Shori. I hope Hoshi likes what we’ve done with the place….

You lose track of time. Shori is patient and very cooperative, which surprises you. Even in the interface, she treats you gently and seems to take special care not to overwhelm you with too much information. The ion drive and thruster system is completely antithetical to her nature and you’re pretty sure you’re hurting her. But she only flashes responses on the screen and all you feel from her computing system is a general sense of welcome and belonging. She doesn’t complain when you reinforce her bones with nano-steel braided tubules you grew in the med bay and doesn’t fuss when you have to reroute part of her neural network to link to the mechanical power of the engines. She tells you that your implants look like they’ve integrated nicely with your biology and she’ll trust you to do as nice a job. You’re strangely touched by the vulnerability and you notice that you’re much more gentle than usual with your work, even asking her if the soldering and bone-fusions are causing any pain. It’s a level of kindness you didn’t expect from yourself. At least, not since your days in the lab...but that was a long time ago. 

You’re perfectly focused. Your mind is completely clear and completely present in your activities. Later, you’ll realize that you haven’t felt that calm and disciplined without Snow, well, ever. Later, you’ll remember that you forgot to eat and sleep and that your body and work stations are total messes. Later, you’ll be grumpy and sore and not want to admit that you want to be cuddled, pampered, and spoiled as a reward for some of the best work you’ve ever done, but since that would require admitting that you needed anything from anyone, you’ll repress that feeling and then feel neglected when Hoshi doesn’t lavish praise on you. You’re a complicated person. 

But for now, all that exists is the work. The steady coaxing into existence of what had been dead, lifeless plans, into the living work of art that was a fully integrated navigational and propulsion system. You’re patient and methodical, testing each component multiple times, integrating each section bit by bit, hunting down problems with a kind of implacable gentleness and selfless attention that is the reason you became an engineer in the first place. Nothing exists but the shape of Shori in your hands as you mold her into something stronger and faster. More unique and individual that she could be on her own, ironically enough. The design grows organically as you see her and the upgrades in holistic context and augment each synergistically with the other. It’s beautiful and utterly engrossing. 

At the end, with the final test run completed, and the final adjustment made, you stand in Shori’s control center, watching the new computer manual interface light up. Shori’s thoughts delicately touch yours in a tiny shiver of gratitude and delight that makes the odd melancholy echo in your heart shimmer, just for a second. It’s a moment of profound intimacy and alienation, all at once, to know that only you and she know how beautiful she is and what it took to bring her to this point. It makes you proud and empty all at once. Maybe this is what being a parent is like? You think, briefly, as Shori lightly sets back down into the jungle on her own, effortlessly integrating her new thrusters into the thick atmosphere and unfurling her wings for a long solar power soak. You can feel her contentment and relaxation as if they are your own and you have a brief spurt of fear that maybe she’s too close. That maybe you gave up too much of yourself for this project. For Hoshi. But you quickly shove that out of the way, stretch, and expediently pass out in your bunk from sheer exhaustion for the effort. 

***

Hoshi looks like a bucket of teal slop. 

You look at Mercedes, holding said bucket, and at the tank that is so thick with slime and muck that you can’t see if the shell is actually done or not. You look back at Mercedes. “This is dumb.”

“It’s not dumb, Kas, you just don’t understand it. The two don’t have anything to do with each other,” she says, lifting the Hoshi-slop-bucket up to the top of the tank and pouring him in.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your chest and try to ignore the gnawing aching reaching from your sternum to spine. What if this doesn’t work? What if Hoshi’s actually dead? What if--

Mercedes gives you a droll look. “Please stop freaking out. Hoshi’s fine. He and I had a nice chat. He’s awake and ready to materialize again.”

You don’t even bother to hide your skepticism. “You had a nice chat. With Hoshi. With what, Des? Hoshi doesn’t exist! Look at him!” you gesture to the slop bucket she’s gently (and slowly) pouring into the muck tank. “He’s a mist, not a person. And I don’t know about you, but the last time I had discourse with something in a gaseous state, it didn’t exactly hold up its part of the conversation. And that...filth…” you stab your chin towards the muck in the tank. “Is there a body in there? I don’t know because you won’t let me dig it out and see if it’s chemically and structurally sound. So, from my point of view, and hear me out here, you’re just dumping colored air into an aquarium gone sour.” You huff out a breath. “Hoshi’s fucked. I’m fucked. This whole thing is fucked.” You sit down hard against the wall behind you and lean your head against your knees. “What are we even doing here, Des?”

“Man, you get riled up over the weirdest things,” Mercedes says, chuckling to herself, still pouring Hoshi, or whatever’s left of him into the tank. “Such a sensitive creature for all your fuss. Relax, Kas. Hoshi’s fine. And try to keep your thoughts to yourself for a minute. Mama’s working here and Hoshi will need a little help finding his way back.”

You throw up your hands in disgust. “Back from where, you crazy woman? He didn’t go anywhere! He’s in a goddamn bucket for Chrissakes!”

“Shh,” she bites back at you. “Just sit there and think happy thoughts. Hmm, actually, Hoshi’s more of a feelings-guy, so why don’t you just sit there and think about how much you love him and how you’d miss him if he wasn’t here.”

You bristle. “I don’t love him. And don’t tell me what to do. He’s not going to feel himself out of that tank.”

“Of course, dear. Whatever you say.” It’s obvious she isn’t paying any attention to you now, her whole being clearly attuned to whatever was happening in front of her. Crazy mambo jumbo voodoo bullshit, you think. See, this is the problem with organics. Nothing but mysticism and nonsense killing perfectly good brain cells...you try not to notice that the light in the room seems to be getting stronger. And turning a very distinct electric blue. And you try to ignore a feeling of growing joy. Intoxicating sensuality and freedom that seems to be bubbling up from somewhere near your solar plexus. They aren’t feelings you’ve felt before and you feel almost lightheaded from the sheer joy of, whatever, it was going on. 

There was no more Hoshi in the bucket. Mercedes drops it and reaches into the slime and muck up to her elbows. Even as a tall woman, she has to stand on tip-toes to reach deep enough into whatever it was to get a hold on the presumed body. The light around her seemed to intensify. For a moment, you can almost see slivers of silver outlines highlighting her body against the tank, but the slivers slip away before you can actually clarify them in your brain. Something is happening. Without conscious thought or even being aware of it, you’re drawn up to stand. The joy in your chest is so intense, it’s starting to hurt. It’s as if something is trying to burst out of the room or a dislocated bone needs to be reset, an almost unbearable feeling of restrained tension that makes your hair stand on end. 

“JIRO,” says Mercedes, but her voice is different. You can hear it from everywhere in the room. From your bones. It resonates and reverberates around in your stomach, in your brain, in the tank. “JIRO,” she says again, but stronger. And this time, the name rings like a pure tone in your head, making you cover your ears and close your eyes as your vision wavers and flexes. As if your corneas shivered in the frequencies of her voice. But just as soon as she says the name the second time, the resonance seems caught by something. Swallowed up. You open your eyes just in time to see silver-blue light flash in the tank, boiling the water or at least filling it with so much air that the muck becomes crystal clear and a shock of cold wind arcs through the room, making you think of glaciers and ice-boxes and, confusingly enough, a strange space station with an indoor sea, before Hoshi erupts from the tank in a flurry of liquid and black hair. Long black hair. To your surprise, Mercedes is holding Hoshi up by the armpits, guiding him to the edge of the tank, and he’s...fine. Normal. Well, glowing, but that happens often enough, what can you do? The rush of relief and gratitude puts you back on your butt as you lean back against the stone walls and try to let the flood of nausea, endorphins, and adrenaline go somewhere other than out your mouth. With one corner of your mind, you note that your hands and legs are shaking and you’ve bitten through your lip.

“Burke, my love. Did you miss me? Were you worried I’d leave you all alone?”

Hoshi’s insolent, arrogant voice. That smooth insult that bothers you more because you did miss him. And you were worried about him. And you’re sitting here shaking over such a fucking asshole. And if you weren’t so relieved, you’d drown him just on principle. You open your eyes. Naked, beautiful Hoshi is smiling at you with Mercedes’ hands protectively still on his shoulders. Without a word, you get up and run your hands along his new face. Gently, tenderly from forehead to shoulder, neck to nose, you trace his face, leaning in to make sure it smelled like him. Felt like him. And would convince the cold thing inside you to relax finally. It takes a minute, when he places a hand on yours to trace with you and you can feel his breathing match yours and all the bones are right and all the soft hollows are right. And only then can you relax. 

You open your eyes and slap him, storming out to sleep on Shori.