Airi

Leon

September 26, 2005 — Monday

Watching everyone put everything together left me feeling unusually stressed out. Kendra had specifically asked them not make a big deal about this.

The mess room had been transformed. A fold-up table sat against one wall, meticulously arranged with the cheesecake the men had worked on together, bowls of chips and dip, alcoholic drinks on one side, a nonalcoholic punch bowl on the other, and chocolate-covered pretzels Mouse had spent two hours dipping by hand.

Bishop was now hanging a dart board in the far corner of the room, and the poker table had been removed from the center of the room to make it more open.

Wraith hurried through the door, black hair swaying behind her. "Mission accomplished." She smoothed down her dress as she ran to Owen.

"Ya look lovely." He greeted her, pecking her on the cheek.

She blushed. Which was weird for her. Wraith usually made Owen blush, not the other way around.

"I convinced her to wear something nice." Wraith brushed past the compliment.

"I'm surprised she agreed." Jill mumbled, mostly to herself.

"I'm a convincing person." Wraith smirked.

Avery finished laying out a stack of cups, arranging them into a neat tower. Then he turned on his heel and looked to the door.

"Okay, when she comes in, everyone act natural."

"No birthday song?" Bishop teased.

Rook elbowed him in the lung.

"Don't even utter the word 'birthday'." Avery fixed him with a look so stern that it felt out of character. "We're all just having a nice night. That's it. Okay?"

"Operation 'no-birthday-party' party is in full effect." Bishop nodded, saluting.

Mouse peered down the hall through the open door and snapped his head back in our direction. "She's coming!"

"Be normal! Be normal." Avery hissed, shoving Bishop so he was facing Rook instead of him.

Everyone seemed to settle into feigned conversations with one another. I had to refrain from rolling my eyes at the obviousness of it all. They may have been agents, but they definitely weren't actors.

From across the room, Harper shoved away from the wall. He brushed past the table, making the punch bowl slosh, and nodded to Piers and Lopez, muttering something to them as he headed for the exit. I watched as the most stoic of us all dipped through the doorway and slid past Kendra in the hall. Something told me I wouldn't be seeing him for the rest of the night.

Kendra mumbled something to him as he passed, making a face when he didn't respond and kept walking.

The moment she stepped into the room, Avery lifted his drink. "Well look who finally showed up!"

She smoothed down her dress, fidgeting with the hem that came just past her knees. "Well, no one told me we were meeting in here, so I went to upper deck first."

Wraith laughed sympathetically, stepping forward and gently tugging her further into the room. "Sorry, sweet pea, it was too cold up there. Come on, Owen's got some warm cider brewing."

Kendra dusted off her upper arms. "I wasn't up there that long." She assured her.

Still, a subtle blush dusted her cheeks and the tip of her nose, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was cold or embarrassed. Either way, I felt bad. Total failure on our part not to give her a destination.

I kept my distance, choosing instead to watch her as she circled the room. Everyone did a good job of pretending they weren't waiting their turn. Everyone except me, apparently.

When she finally found her way to me, she gave me a teasing look. "You waiting for me or something?"

I hid my smile. "You rudely spoke to everyone else before me. I think my feelings are hurt."

She crinkled her nose. "Baby."

I chewed on my smile. "Sorry about the party. I tried to talk them out of it."

She waved it off. "They're being subtle enough." Her gaze flicked down her body. "I'm a bit over dressed, though. Do I look weird?"

I held her gaze, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "You look beautiful."

The laughter in her tone settled, smile softening as she looked up at me. For a moment, her eyes glistened. Then she blinked and looked toward the table.

"Im guessing you had something to do with the cheesecake?"

I shrugged. "Well, you didn't get to enjoy the Denny's slice I bought you. Figured this would make up for it." I paused, looking toward the dessert. "As you can tell, I had nothing to do with the cherries."

She tilted her face down, staring up at me through her brow in an almost flirtatious manner.  "I liked your messy cherries."

An amused breath slipped out of me. "I ruined it."

"Not possible." She bumped me with her hip.

I raised a brow. "Think so?" It was more of a challenge than anything else.

"Well," she dipped her head, "at the risk of sounding completely corny, I think anything you touch is made just a little bit better by it."

No one around us was listening. They were absorbed in their own conversations and activities. So I leaned down until my lips nearly met her ear, lowering my voice to a whisper.

"Does that include you?"

Her cheeks brightened immediately and I knew in that moment that she hadn't been cold earlier.

"Leon!" She hissed, lightly smacking my arm.

I leaned away, chuckling to myself and clicking my tongue. "Completely innocent comment."

She rubbed at the back of her neck, looking around as if we were in trouble. Still, a shy smile lingered on her lips. "Don't make me think about your hands on me."

I nodded, forcing my smile down. "Yes, ma'am."

Those two brown eyes flicked up at me, searching my face for something. Her hand fell away from her neck and she tilted her head. "Thought you were avoiding me today."

My brows twitched. "You're the last person on this ship I'd avoid."

She took half a step closer, lowering her voice. "I mean, after the letters... I dont know. I thought you were doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"You know." She crossed her arms, the gesture protective, not defensive. "The distance thing."

A heavy sigh scraped out of me and I shifted on my feet. "No. I'm not doing the distance thing. Didn't exactly accomplish anything last time, did it?"

"No," she smiled sadly. "But things are different this time."

Because this time, we both knew I'd have to leave. I kept that thought to myself. Instead, I dipped down and lowered my voice again. "We can talk about that later." I leaned away. "Right now, you have a not-birthday-party to enjoy."

Playfulness flickered in her eye. "I do, don't I?" She twirled to my other side, the motion fluid. "You know what would make me really enjoy this party?"

"I get the feeling you're about to tell me." I held her gaze.

She looked to the other side of the room. "Hey, Owen. I think you should play a song."

An exasperated sigh slipped out of me, already knowing exactly what she was going to ask. "Kendra."

She ignored me, grinning in Owen's direction. The Captain clapped his hands together, a smile of his own hidden beneath the red wires of his beard. "I think you're right."

As Owen grabbed his guitar from the wall, Kendra spun back around to face me. "I want to dance."

"These aren't my dancing shoes."

"You don't own dancing shoes." She grabbed the skirt of her dress and swayed back and forth, showing it off to me. "I wore my favorite dancing dress. It has to go to use."

"You should ask someone who knows how to dance."

She shook her head vigorously, a mischievous look on her face. "Are you trying to ruin my birthday party?"

I crossed my arms. "It's not a birthday party, remember?"

"Right, so the birthday cheesecake was just a coincidence?"

"Hardly had anything to do with me. All I did was tell them you don't like cake. They did the rest."

She raised a brow in challenge. "So, Avery got me a present, everyone else made me my favorite dessert, and you... won't even dance with me?" She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "How could you be so cruel?"

"You're manipulating me." I teased.

"I am." She grinned without remorse.

Owen began to strum the guitar, a pretty melody filling the room. It started slow, with a folk-like hum beneath it.

"Something faster!" Kendra laughed.

He nodded along to his own beat, stomping his heel in perfect time. "Don't worry, love," he almost sang the reassurance. "I'll play you a song I wrote myself."

She laughed, crossing her arms and staring at him.

He grinned, finished the opening, then stamped the chords—cutting the sound for a heartbeat.

"Yeah!" He sang, plucking the strings faster now, the folk melody something more lively.

Kendra turned on me immediately, smiling widely as her entire body responded to the rhythm.

Her dance was almost entirely in her legs, stomping to the beat as she spun around me. Owen began to sing, the lyrics folded into folk storytelling.

I couldn't focus too much on the lyrics. A love ballad if I had to guess. Kendra stole my attention, clapping the beat as if to assist me.

I felt awkward and out of place, unsure what to do with myself as she danced around me.

"Come on, Leon, dance!" Avery shouted at me from the corner of the room.

I kept my eyes on Kendra, who grabbed my hand and lifted it over her head. She proceeded to spin herself, completely confident with the dance she was inventing.

The entire room around us was set into motion. They clapped. Stomped. Danced in nonsensical circles. Laughed with each other.

Feeling less observed now, I loosened up, allowing Kendra to guide me. She giggled, curls bouncing with every movement. "There you go!" She clapped in time with Owen. "Eighty beats per minute, it's easy!"

Easy to her. She practically studied music and rhythm. I had no idea what I was doing.

She threw her head back, lifting her arms and melting into the song completely. Like she'd heard it a thousand times.

I stopped trying to follow the steps. There weren't really steps anyway. Just her—moving like she could see the rhythm. Following a path in the melody that I couldn't find.

Her curls caught the light when she turned, bouncing loose around her face. The laughing, or maybe the dancing, left her cheeks flushed. She spun too fast for anyone who cared about balance, but somehow never stumbled.

I realized I was watching her hands more than anything else. The way they cut through the air on the beat, then softened on the offbeat, like she was drawing the song out of the air instead of just moving to it.

She grabbed my wrist again without looking, already knowing where I'd be. "C'mon," she called over the music.

At first, I was still following her. Not leading. Not really choosing anything. Just letting her pull me through the rhythm. One step behind everything she did.

Then something shifted in me. I stopped watching her feet. Started watching her timing instead.

There was a fraction of a second where she leaned into the turn before it came, trusting the floor even when it was behind her. Careless, like she wasn't worried about tripping. I mirrored it without thinking.

My weight shifted on the beat instead of after it. My steps stopped feeling like guesses and started feeling like answers.

She turned back toward me mid-step. Paused for half a heartbeat. Then grinned, as if she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

After that, I wasn't following anymore. We were just... moving. Same beat. Same space. No hesitation between us.

We hardly touched each other, and yet the dance couldn't have existed without the other.

Owen whooped from across the room, clearly pleased with everyone's reaction.

Kendra spun into me and I caught her briefly before spinning her away again.

The chorus carried over us clear as day. "I can run my boots — clean through the soles. Chasin' the sun, yeah — where it goes."

She followed the beat, body jostling with the tempo as she beckoned me closer. I couldn't help the small smile that found my face, obeying her without question.

"Ain't no map — can tell a heart — whatta do. 'Cause all roads'll lead — back to you."

She pressed her back into me, clapping in sync with the song as she danced on me this time, winding around my body like I existed to steady her.

"And if lovin' you was my — greatest sin? It don't mean nothin', I'd do — it again."

Then, as if by divine intervention, she tripped—falling across my stomach. I caught her on instinct, dragging her back up. She laughed, tilting forward and burying her face in my chest. Wrapping her in my arms, I cradled the back of her head and chuckled under my breath.

"What happened?" I teased her.

"I was testing your reflexes." She leaned back and grinned up at me. Without waiting for a response, she pushed away from me and fell back into the dance as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment she was away from me, I wanted her to come back. When she turned her head and looked away, I wanted her eyes to find mine again.

But I didn't need to ask. Didn't need to close the distance. Because she was already homing in on me again. Drawn to each other like the room wasn't full of people.

She reached for my hand and I gave it to her. Immediately. This time, when she lifted my arm, I knew the cue. Our fingers fit together just enough that I could spin her. Laughter bubbled out of her as she dizzied herself, trusting me not to let her fall.

As Owen sang the chorus of his song again, the lyrics settled somewhere deep in my chest. So deep that, for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Kendra dropped onto the balls of her feet and I steadied her, even when it felt like the world was tilting beneath my own.

She slipped out of my grasp, holding my gaze with the smile of someone who had no worries on their mind. Just this dance. Just this moment.

I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to. My eyes had a mind of their own.

There was something dangerously peaceful about being near her. It was wrong. Not the feeling, but the timing. Or maybe the circumstances.

When the song ended, I watched her go. Watched her drift toward Owen and request another song. And maybe I didn't follow after her, but my gaze did.

Even when she disappeared into the small crowd... I still looked for her.

~ ~ ~

Kendra

After the fifth song, I was completely out of breath, but enjoying myself too much to stop. It was as though no one else in the room existed. I danced around Leon like he was my center of gravity.

At first, he didn't seem to be too into dancing. But it didn't take him long to loosen up. By the end of the first dance, I had his full attention. I couldn't bring myself to dance with anyone else. Not that I wanted to. I was perfectly content spending the entire evening within arms length of him.

By the time Owen finished another cover of a mainstream song, I was clinging to Leon by the arm, forcing myself to catch my breath. For the briefest moment, my gaze went to the snack table, where I caught Avery watching me.

He gave me a knowing look, a cocky smile lifting the corner of his lips. His gaze flickered between Leon and me before he raised a glass in my direction and gave me a pointed nod. Like he had just figured something out and wanted me to know that he knew.

I averted my gaze quickly. Meaning to look at the ground or anywhere that would make me look less guilty. Instead, my traitorous eyes found Leon. We held eye contact only long enough for my cheeks to burn.

Flustered, I took a step back and searched for a quick distraction.

"You know, if that cheesecake sits out any longer, it'll go to waste." I flicked my hair over my shoulder just to give my hand something to do.

Bishop clapped his hands together with all the enthusiasm of someone who had been impatiently awaiting just that. "I want to cut it!" He practically jumped toward the table. "I don't trust any of you to divide it fairly."

"He failed geometry, don't trust him." Rook said flatly.

"There's thirteen of us, we're all getting small slices anyway." Harvey mumbled.

"Twelve, I'm lactose intolerant." Lopez shrugged.

Jill leaned against the wall. "So are Lex and Mouse."

"So, ten slices?" Bishop asked hopefully.

"Make it eight," Owen spoke up. "Wraith and I don't eat a bunch of sugar before bed."

Bishop grinned as if he were up to something nefarious. "Excellent. Eight slices it is."

Everyone moved to the table to watch over Bishop as he cut the cheesecake. I intended to follow, but stopped when a hand grabbed me around the elbow.

I looked back to find Avery, holding his other hand suspiciously behind his back.

I already knew it was the birthday present he got for me. I shook my head immediately. "Really, Avery, it’s okay. I don't need anything."

"You're gonna love it. Trust me." He pushed the gift wrapped rectangle into my hand.

"He's right." Leon added from behind me. "You will."

I gave Leon a disapproving look. "Don't encourage him."

"You have to accept it." Avery shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. "It's no use to me."

Heaving a sigh, I grabbed the taped down corner wrapping and tore it open. It was a book—dark blue or maybe a faded black. I realized I was looking at the back cover, so I ripped the remaining wrapping paper off and flipped it over.

I recognized it instantly.

"No fucking way!" I held it out at arm's length, staring at it like it might not be real. A wide smile split my lips, too giddy to even hide the laughter in my voice. "Where did you find this?"

"Yard sale. Sheer dumb luck that I came across it." He chuckled.

I spun around to show Leon, vibrating with excitement. "Do you know what this is?"

"Tell me." The corner of his lip kicked up with amusement.

I latched onto his arm, pulling him closer, jostling him as I nearly jumped with joy. "It's the star book! The one I was telling you about! Remember? Look," I lifted it toward his face, "it glows in the dark!"

Something softened in his face. The smile he gave me was so unexpectedly fond that it made my chest tighten. "So, you're telling me the frogs really didn't teach you astronomy?"

Giving a playful roll of my eyes, I gently smacked his bicep. "You joke now, but I'm gonna annoy you every night with this book until we reach the UK."

"Is that a promise?"

Our eyes locked and I bit back a smile before turning back to Avery.

"This is the best thing ever. Thank you so much."

"And to think you almost declined it." He laughed. Without warning, he threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer, pitching his voice low enough so only I could hear. "You're gonna get pretty homesick in the UK. Maybe this will bring a little bit of home to you, yeah?"

My smile immediately dropped, a deep ache burning a hole in my chest.

He playfully shoved me away, lightly tapping my cheek. "No frowning."

"Kendra!" Bishop's voice cut through the emotional bubble. All three of us perked up, looking toward the table where the lieutenant held up a plate with a perfectly cut slice of cheesecake.

"You get the first slice!"

Something about Bishop's energy always made me smile. Maybe it was because he reminded me of Hayden. And maybe there was a grieving part of me that was clinging to that even if I couldn't figure out how they were similar. Regardless, the frown vanished and I hurried to grab the plate.

"I made sure to give you the prettiest piece," he said matter-of-factly.

Avery leaned over my shoulder, eyeing the plate. "Based on whose standards? I wanna see the other pieces."

Piers shoved Avery slightly. "You're a bit too ugly to be making a judgment on what looks good or not."

Avery gave him a deadpan look. "That's fucked up."

Piers smirked like he won and turned his attention elsewhere, unapologetic.

Something unexpectedly warm settled in my chest. I watched as Bishop handed out cheesecake slices. Listened as the room buzzed with casual chatter. Allowed myself to settle into the moment. 

And for a moment—just the briefest moment—everything was as it should be. As life was meant to be. Laughter echoing around me. Music humming beneath the conversation. A cheesecake made by a friend melting on my tongue. A hand on my shoulder; gentle enough to be friendly, but rough enough to be playful. Eyes bright with joy as we took turns teasing each other.

It wasn't a room full of agents and soldiers. No one was worried about death, or disease, or war.

I'd always been the person who felt alone in a room full of people. But when I found myself as the wallflower, observing the room and the people around me, that familiar loneliness was absent tonight.

Leon drifted back to me, passing me a soft smile before he settled against the wall beside me. He said nothing as he forked another bite of his dessert.

My head rolled lazily across the bulkhead to find his face. Our eyes met and I smiled at him. It was a different smile. One I had reserved for him.

He set his fork on his plate, licking the cherry syrup from his lips before lifting a questioning brow at me. Still, he said nothing.

I laughed through my nose, soft and peaceful, and tilted closer. There was the faintest hesitation where I considered moving away, but I swallowed it. Continued. Ever so gently, I rested my head on his shoulder.

For a second, he didn't move. He stayed completely still, like I was a cat that had fallen asleep in his lap.

Then, I felt his index finger loop into the waist belt around my midsection. With equal gentleness, he pulled me closer into him.

No one really noticed us. Or if they did, they didn't call attention to it. It would have been naive to assume the rest of the crew was blind to this. If I was being honest, I didn't think they really cared all that much.

Whether they approved or not, they kept it to themselves. I was grateful for that. We had enough to worry about without their two cents.

For a while, Leon and I just stood next to each other, exchanging casual conversation. His hands would brush my ribcage and I would pretend not to notice. Every time he made me laugh, I would cling to his arm and fold forward in a fit of giggles. He'd pretend it was perfectly normal for me to latch onto him.

Eventually, the atmosphere was broken by an intrusion of the last person we expected.

Lex.

He wandered over, a solo cup of punch in hand, a foreign look of anxiety lining his face. His gaze flickered between us before settling on me.

"Hey," he hesitated. "Can we talk? Privately?"

I exchanged a glance with Leon. He patted the top of my hand, which was still wrapped around his upper arm, and gave me a reassuring smile. "I'll take our plates to the kitchen."

With that, he pulled the dessert platter from my grasp and trailed away. It was the first time he had willingly walked away without argument when it came to Lex, which told me all I needed to know. He'd been expecting Lex to come and find me.

Slick, I thought. I cursed my obliviousness. Because now I understood why Leon had been so absent today. Of course he would have had a talk with Lex. It was foolish to think he'd leave the situation alone.

Fixing my attention on Lex, I crossed my arms. Not out of intimidation, but out of defensiveness. Maybe even uncertainty. Still, nothing about him screamed aggressive or belligerent, as he'd been last night. Instead, he seemed... tired. Hesitant. He blinked more often than usual, carrying the sort of exhausted guilt that could've been mistaken for someone struggling to stay awake.

"What's up?" I asked.

He fidgeted, swirling the punch just to give his hand something to do. "Look, about last night—" he paused, taking a breath before forcing himself to meet my gaze. "I was... out of line."

A breathy laugh escaped me. "You think?"

With an awkward smile, he nodded and averted his gaze again, staring into the contents of his cup. "I was being a dick. And I said things I didn't mean. Things you didn't deserve."

A frown tugged at my lips, but I kept my voice cool. "Yeah. You were pretty shitty."

He sighed, hazel eyes returning to mine. "I made assumptions. If you can call them that. Projected a lot of... bullshit... on you. It wasn't fair. To you, I mean."

I searched his face, letting the pause linger long enough to make him uncomfortable. Then, quietly, "you were being mean."

Pursing his lips, he gave a dejected shrug. "Yeah. I was. And... I'm sorry."

Exhaling, I shifted my weight, fingers tightening around my arms. "Well... I appreciate that. Thanks."

His shoulders dropped, almost relieved. "I know we aren't friends. And that's my fault. But... maybe we could... start over?"

"Start over?" I echoed, apprehensive.

He made a sound with his mouth. "Yeah. You know. You're one of us now. Might as well try, at least. To be friendly."

An amused breath left me. "Yeah. Sure. That sounds... nice."

He gave me a tight smile. "Great. That's great."

I nodded awkwardly, unsure what else to say.

His mouth opened, but whatever he was going to say was immediately lost to the sound of glass shattering against the steel floor. We both whipped our heads in the direction of the chaos—catching Harbor in the act of jumping up on the snack table. Whiskey bottles lay in pieces around the table, the dark alcohol staining the floor.

"Harbor, no!" I yelled, shoving away from the wall and running over immediately.

Lex followed, faster than me as he reached forward and plucked the medium sized spaniel from the mess before he could step on any of the broken glass.

Everyone was in an uproar, shouting in a mixture of disappointment and protest.

With the dog in one arm, Lex set his solo cup on the table and turned back to me. "I think it's past his bedtime." He joked, hauling Harbor higher up his shoulder. "I'm feeling a bit tired myself. I'll take him to your room."

Letting out a breath, I nodded and looked back to the mess. "I'm gonna clean this up."

Lex was gone a moment later and the rest of us worked together to pick up the mess. Bishop whined about the waste of alcohol and Rook mocked him. The two of them helped me get the broken glass up while Owen retrieved a mop.

By the time Leon returned, the mess was mostly cleaned. The smell of alcohol burned my nose as I discarded the last shards of glass in the trash can. Owen brushed past me with the mop, mumbling a quiet, "'scuse me, kiddo," as he sopped up the whiskey.

"I'm surprised he didn't spill the punch." Harvey remarked, taking up the ladle and pouring the sugary drink into his solo cup.

Bishop stepped closer, snagging a cup from the tower and holding it out to Harvey. "Give me some of that. I'm thirsty as hell."

Harvey pushed his glasses further up his face. "I'm proud of you. You remembered to hydrate this time."

In response, Bishop slugged his arm. "Don't patronize me."

Rook shrugged, taking the ladle from Harvey after he poured Bishop's drink and pouring himself a cup of his own. "To be fair, you tend to drink alcohol like it's water."

A hand suddenly brushed my lower back and I startled. My gaze snapped to the culprit—and I relaxed instantly when I realized it was Leon who had touched me.

He gave me an apologetic smile. "You thirsty? You were dancing around for almost an hour."

With a non-committed shrug, I searched the contents of the table. "Not for punch."

"There's water in the kitchen?" He suggested.

The very thought of cold, clean water sounded heavenly. No excessive sugar. No overbearing flavor. I turned toward the exit almost immediately. "Come with me?"

I didn't need to ask. We both knew he would. So, he didn't answer. He simply headed for the door.

I followed, promising Avery I would be right back.

Avery watched the two of us go, an almost conspiratorial smile on his face.

"Don't get lost." He called after us.

It was hard to ignore him.

~ ~ ~

I flipped through the pages of the constellation book, reminiscing on the illustrations as they brought back long lost memories. Leon leaned over my shoulder, reading the page as I tipped my glass to my lips again.

"Mm!" I swallowed the water quickly, excitedly pointing to the page. "Andromeda! I saw that last night!"

He leaned further over my shoulder to read the description, narrating the text aloud. "'Andromeda is a chain of stars that leads directly to the Andromeda Galaxy.'"

I tipped my head back to look at him and he raised a brow. "Another galaxy? I thought we could only see the Milky Way."

I practically collapsed against the counter in a dramatic show of devastation. "No no no, sweetheart, you're breaking my heart."

Snapping the book shut, I turned abruptly and tried to ignore the stunned look on his face. "Come on, you're getting a lesson in astronomy."

He didn't fight me as I grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him toward the exit.

"Am I being graded?" He asked.

"Yeah, so you better take notes." I snorted, slipping out of the kitchen and immediately flying up the steps toward the upper deck.

As I tugged him from the staircase, I turned only long enough to catch his smile. I always seemed to draw a smile out of him. But this one was different. The endearing kind of look that made me turn away before he could see what it did to me.

With everyone being below deck, the large floodlights had been kept off tonight, leaving only the mounted deck lights to illuminate either end of the upper deck. I leaned back toward the staircase and slapped the switch off, plunging us into darkness.

"How are you going to read your little school book?" Leon's deep tenor carried through the dark.

"With that fancy little flashlight you always keep in your pocket." I teased back, grabbing the hem of his jacket and tugging him into me.

He stumbled closer, a small sound of surprise escaping him as his hands fell on my shoulders. "Take it easy, you're manhandling me."

I hushed him, slipping my hand into the inner lining of his jacket and fumbling for the pocket.

"What are you looking for?" He opened his arms just to make it easier for me.

"The flashlight, what else?"

"It's not in that pocket."

"You moved it?"

"No. It's always on the right side. You're looking on the left."

I paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Just grab it for me." I mumbled, stepping away.

He laughed, reaching into his jacket, grabbing the flashlight, and pushing it into my hand. "You know, normal people would have just asked."

I flicked the flashlight on, shining it directly in his face. He squinted, turning away from the bulb.

"Are you calling me weird?"

"Yes." He answered immediately, reaching for the flashlight. "Give me that."

I held it out of reach. "No, I'm the teacher."

"You can't even tell left from right."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Pulling the book from under my arm, I handed it to him and shined the beam of light on the cover. "Open to the Late Fall section."

Exhaling, he did as I told him and flicked through the few pages of the book until I once again saw Andromeda.

"Alright, I'm gonna show you something." I indicated to the ground with my head. "Sit."

He raised a brow, looking like he might argue, but ultimately dropped down in front of me. A small smirk lifted my lips and he caught it, giving me a warning look.

With a laugh, I dropped down across from him and leaned over the book, shining the light on the page. "Okay so," I paused, studying the page and looking up at the sky for comparison. When I found it, my gaze found Leon, mouth parting to tell him where to look—and I stopped.

His eyes were pinned on the sky, an almost childlike wonder in his expression. Curious, I looked back to the sky only to realize what he was so fascinated by.

Without the bright floodlights or the light pollution from the city, the sky was clearer than ever. There had been many times I'd seen the night sky without the obstruction of artificial light. Perhaps I'd taken it for granted.

Still, I knew exactly what he was thinking. Without the floodlights or the glow of the coastline, the sky had opened completely. Stars crowded every patch of darkness. The Milky Way arched overhead in a pale river of light, its colors so faint they'd disappear anywhere else. Galaxies and stars and planets, swirling out in the cosmos in a way they were always meant to be seen. A way that we seldom got to see anymore.

My eyes found him again, and my chest tightened. The stars reflected like glitter in his eyes, his lips slightly parted.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said softly.

He blinked, as if my voice had broken some trance, and looked back at me. "Where's the other galaxy?" Then his gaze was on the sky again. "That's the Milky Way isn't it?"

He traced the luminous band of light that cut a path across the sky high overhead.

I craned my head back, finding what I was looking for behind me. I shifted, giving Leon my back so I could point to it.

"You see that bright spot out there? It's small. Kinda like a smudge."

He leaned closer, the heat of him warming my back. "Yeah. I think so."

"That's the Andromeda Galaxy."

He was silent for a long time. An icy breeze dusted the deck and I shivered, tucking my legs into my chest. I was glad I'd faced away from him now because I could feel the cold air billow up my dress. I discreetly tucked the skirt between my legs.

Leon moved behind me and a moment later, draping his jacket over my shoulders. With an amused laugh, I leaned back, resting against his chest. He didn't move away.

"You know, when we look at the stars, we're technically looking back in time."

His hand found my upper arm, rubbing warmth back into my skin. "Is that right?"

I nodded against his chest. "The Andromeda Galaxy is two and a half million light years away. So everything we're seeing right now? It's whatever that galaxy was experiencing millions of years ago. Who knows what it looks like at this exact moment. We'll never know. Even if we went looking, our lives are so short... we couldn't possibly reach it in time. It's one of those mysteries that're so vast. So beyond us. And we have no choice but to be content with not knowing."

He hummed, the sound reverberating in his chest, "I've never been the type that doesn't want to solve a mystery."

"Hmm." I scooted closer into him and his arm encircled my torso, holding onto me. Without thinking about it, I traced the veins over the top of his hand. "I think I have to get comfortable with the idea of not knowing."

"Maybe for the future." He grabbed the flashlight from my other hand and clicked it off. "There's probably a reason we don't get to know. We'd spend too much time worrying about it." He paused. "Like you're doing right now."

I let out a mirthless laugh, but no response came to mind.

He sighed. "I get it. You're not sure what's going to happen. And you're scared. Given your track record with agents, I don't blame you." His fingers curled against my side. "But you're looking to the future and telling yourself it's uncertain while still just seeing the past. The BSAA isn't Strategic Command. It's not the system that failed you."

A frown tugged at my lips. "You're saying that going back... it's not option."

His breath warmed the crown of my head. "I think we both know what protection in the U.S. looks like for you. And I think... Jill and Owen and this crew... they care about you. And they won't let anything happen to you."

But it wasn't them I'd spent the last fifty days with. It wasn't them who had pulled me out of Delacroix's safe house, or protected me when dozens of men had come to take me. They weren't the ones who had hunted Verissimo down across state lines, took down an entire compound of armed security, and rescued me.

Worse? They weren't the ones I felt safe sleeping next to at night. It wasn't their faces I searched for in every room I entered.

If I were a braver person, a more selfish person, I would have begged him not to go. Convinced him to stay with me. And the most awful part of that was he would. If I asked him to, he would.

So I couldn't. This was his job. His country. His duty. To ask him to abandon that for me? It was out of the question.

My eyes remained on the sky instead. Softly, I nodded to the stars. "Look. Pegasus is still in the sky."

He let out an amused breath. "I saw it already. Hard to miss the open box you swear is supposed to be a horse."

A small smile betrayed me. "Ahh, so I did teach you something." I pointed to a significantly brighter star. "What's that one?"

He drew in a long breath, playfully exasperated as he reached for the star book. "Can this be an open book test?"

I chuckled, watching as he flipped through the pages and shone the flashlight across each one. "I'll give you a hint. It's not a star."

He set the book down, snapping his fingers. "A planet. Right."

"It's Mars." I chewed on my smile.

"You didn't even let me guess."

"You would have guessed wrong."

Bowing his head, he brought his lips to my ear, lowering his voice. "You don't know that." Warm breath met my skin and I tilted my face closer until his lips brushed my cheek.

Another gust of ocean air chilled my bare legs and I curled into myself. His hand skated across my thigh, snagging my skirt and pulling it down to my knees. "You cold?" He mumbled against my temple.

"Maybe a little." I admitted quietly.

His hands closed around both of my arms, rubbing over my skin through the jacket. "Come on. We should get back."

I groaned as his warmth abandoned me. He stretched to his full height, stepped over my legs, and extended an arm down to me. Hugging my knees to my chest, I gave him a stubborn look.

"Kendra." He attempted to chastise me, but the word came soft.

"I don't want to go yet."

There was an attempt to muster a stern look. He folded far too easily. "You're going to freeze." He argued.

"I think I can survive another five minutes."

Huffing, he reached for my hand and gently pulled me to my feet. "Are you really gonna give me a hard time over this?” He murmured.

A slow smirk found my lips and I stepped into his space, pressing the book against him as I braced my hands on top of his chest. "Humor me. I don't get to have much fun anymore."

"Why do you think we did all this?" He argued.

"Exactly." I laughed under my breath. "I think I'm allowed to make a bit of trouble tonight."

He shook his head, failing to hide his smile. "You can't use birthday privileges while refusing to let us call it a birthday party."

"What are you, the birthday police?"

His hands closed around my wrists, gently tugging me closer. "Does your fun have to include standing over the open ocean in the middle of the night?"

"So, you're cold?" I teased him. "You want your jacket back?"

Suddenly, he closed the space between us, brushing his lips across mine. My heart skipped a beat when he gave me two subtle kisses. Then he leaned away. "There's a solution where neither of us are cold." He whispered.

I grinned, mischief seeping out of me. "I know exactly how to keep you warm." Quickly, I removed his jacket and shoved it and the book into his arms.

His face filled with wariness. "What—"

I slipped out of his hands and ran for the stairs without warning, goading him to follow. He called after me, confused, but I flew down the stairs, bypassing the kitchen, the infirmary, and every other door as I hurried for the hidden staircase that led down to the hangar.

The door creaked as I shoved it open, stumbling into the hangar as Leon's footsteps echoed behind me. I dove right, suppressing a laugh as I quickly ran to hide behind the nearest large object—a pallet stacked high with boxes of ammunition.

Just as I ducked out of sight, the door flew open again, Leon's heavy boots echoing on the steel floor.

"Kendra?" He half-whispered, steps slowing. "We shouldn't be down here."

Always such a rule follower. The last thing I cared about was getting in trouble for being down here. The worst Owen would do was put us on bathroom duty. Considering we had daily chores anyway, it was hardly something that could dissuade me.

Leon prowled past the pallets, setting the jacket and book on the closest box while dipping to look beneath the helicopter—like I might have chosen such a poor hiding spot.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing and backed away around the other side of the pallet, being sure to keep myself out of view.

He rounded the helicopter and I lost sight of him. I planned to use his footsteps to keep track of him when the room went eerily silent.

A prickle of adrenaline went down my spine, realizing that he was fully committed to the game of cat and mouse I had started. Which was equal parts thrilling and anxiety-inducing. I'd seen Leon in hunter mode before. It was something he was very good at.

He wouldn't hurt me. I was sure of that. But being on the prey side felt mildly terrifying. And yet I was trying so very hard not to giggle and give myself away.

A faint click echoed from my right, putting him much closer to me than I thought. My own training kicked in and I lowered myself to the ground, slinking to the left of the pallet and peering through the slits in the wood. I barely caught his boot passing the pallet on the other side of mine.

I was quick, rounding the pallet the same time he reached it. We went in circles. By the third one, I was sure he knew I was here. Especially as his pace quickened to catch me.

Thinking fast, I scaled the pallet silently, tucking myself on top of a box that was just a few inches taller than him. He slipped right past me and stopped—confused.

It was amusing to see him genuinely stumped for a few seconds. He dropped to the ground to look between the slits in the pallet. When he popped back up and turned around quickly, as though he expected me to be standing right behind him, I finally cracked and giggled.

The moment I did, I knew I was caught. He whipped around quickly, looking up at me just as I ambushed him. I grabbed his arm, throwing all of my weight into shoving him forward while pulling his hand behind his back.

He stumbled forward, grunting as I pinned his wrist to his spine. "Sneak attack? Really?"

I shrugged. "You're bigger than me, stealth is my only advantage."

"Hm."

He stepped back into me and I tried to regain the distance, but he caught me behind the ankle with his foot. I lost my footing immediately and toppled backward, losing my hold on his arm.

Before I could go down, he snatched my elbow and pushed me sideways—trapping me between him and the pallet of boxes. I panted breathlessly at the speed, staring directly into his grinning face.

"You lose." He said flatly.

He had me pinned, light enough that I could have gotten away if I tried hard enough. Instead, I pushed onto the tips of my toes, drew close to his face—and kissed the tip of his nose.

It disarmed him immediately, a stunned look on his face. Snickering, I shoved my other arm into the space beneath his ribcage and forced him sideways. The air left his lungs as I shoved him against the pallet this time.

His voice came hoarse and out of breath. "You cheated."

A sly little smile curved my lips as I drew closer to him. "Don't be so easily distracted."

His gaze flickered to my lips briefly before returning to my eyes. "I'm not distracted."

"Is that right?" I murmured, drawing a step closer—until the space between us was nonexistent. His breath hitched and he stilled as I slid my hand up his arm.

His bicep flexed under the tip of my index finger, but when I anchored myself to his shoulder, he relaxed under my hand.

He stood too tall for me to reach at my own height. I needed to stand on my toes again just to get to his face. He drew in a sharp breath the moment my cheek grazed his. When his pinned hand writhed in my grip, I released him, bracing my hand against his chest.

The moment he was free, his hand slid up my back, holding me against him like someone might take me away.

With all of my tenderness, I brushed a kiss beside his ear. Another to his jaw. A third to the corner of his lips.

A long breath escaped him and he turned his face into mine, gently nudging my cheek with his nose. Something about the gesture felt sad.

My fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his neck, thumb tracing his skin. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He laughed lightly. "Sweetheart?" His other hand gently cradled my face. "You're stealing my nicknames now?"

"We can't both be sweet of heart?" I challenged.

His smile grew and he shook his head. "You think you're funny."

"I am funny."

Carefully, he pulled my face into his, lips brushing mine as he spoke.

"Debatable." He whispered.

Our lips met at that. He kissed me sweetly at first. Soft and testing. And then he gathered me against him and kissed me with more heat. Hungry and desperate for more.

The kiss ended abruptly and his breath broke as he retreated. "You're going away." He reminded me, his voice wavering.

"Not yet." I panted, clinging to him.

He nudged my face with his own once more. "I'm going away."

"Not yet." My voice came shrill, his words making my chest ache.

His lips parted, like he almost said something. There was a pleading look in his eye and I couldn't begin to guess whatever it was he was about to ask me.

But he faltered, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"Guess it wasn't as miserable being stuck with me as we thought." I mumbled, a sad smile lifting the corner of my lips.

A breathy laugh escaped him. "It's easy to be around you."

Snickering, I tilted my head back and gave him a teasing look. "You like being around me."

He blew out a breath, avoiding my gaze.

"It's okay. Feeling's mutual." I pecked a quick kiss to his cheek.

His hands tightened around my waist and he craned down, his lips grazing my skin. A gesture full of longing.

The playfulness bled out of me and I nudged his cheek, urging him to face me. He did so without argument, his breath warming my skin as he tried to steady his breathing.

So I captured his lips, unbothered by how sloppy and hurried the kiss was. My hands wandered before I could really think to stop myself—exploring every hard line of his torso. When my fingers skimmed his lower abdomen, he tensed.

I pressed my body as close to him as I could get and he exhaled into my mouth, his fingers tightening around my waist.

Suddenly, he peeled me away—but not fast enough. I'd already felt him grow hard against me. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head like he was embarrassed.

Still, he couldn't help but kiss me, like that was the one thing he wouldn't let himself refrain from.  Maybe I could have had the same self control, but the only memories racing through my mind now were the images of him on top of me that night. His breathless voice in my ear. His hands exploring every inch of me.

All things I desperately wanted him to do to me now. I yanked him down into me, slipping my tongue into his mouth, tasting his own like a sinner who didn't fear hell. My foot found a box at the bottom of the pallet and I used it for leverage, straddling him with one leg.

His resolve cracked almost instantly. A calloused hand found my thigh and slipped up the skirt of my dress, fingertips digging into my flesh as he pulled me back against him—as if he weren't the one who had pushed me away in the first place.

The next thing I knew, his hands slipped beneath both of my thighs and he lifted me from the ground. I responded just as enthusiastically, wrapping my legs around his waist, breaths mingling as our tongues met again and again.

A wanting sound escaped me when he used only one arm to hold me, the other finding the center of my back—supporting me as though he were afraid I might fall from his arms.

My hips moved without thinking, grinding against the erection pressed hard against me.

He turned suddenly, driving me backward into the boxes, pinning me in the air. There was a moment where he paused, panting against my skin as his nose grazed the column of my throat. Both of his hands slid up my dress, caressing my thighs as a quiet groan rumbled within his chest.

He pressed a kiss to my throat. Two more to the underside of my jaw. Then his lips grazed my ear.

"The dress was a good choice." He whispered, voice husky.

My hands trailed down his abdomen, fumbling with his belt. “Whatever you’re thinking about doing,” I mumbled, finally loosing the belt from the buckle. “Just do it.”

A sharp breath escaped him, his hips bucking forward. “Don’t say that.”

I nipped at his skin, slipping my hand past his waistband. “Why not?”

When I grabbed him around the shaft, his fingers dug into my skin. He groaned, tilting his head forward and taking the flesh of my neck between his teeth.

He throbbed in my hand and I slowly guided my hand up the length of him. The sides of our heads found refuge against each other and I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Where’s your mind at, huh?” I quickened my pace. “What do you want to do?”

His hips rolled forward, guiding himself in my hand. “If I did what I was thinking—fuck—” he cut himself off with a moan. Then he grabbed my face, turning me to look directly at him. “It’s vulgar. Disrespectful. Crude—”

“Good.” I grinned, sweeping my thumb over the tip. His entire body shuddered and I drew closer to his lips. “So do it. I’m giving you permission.”

His lips parted, eyes nearly falling closed as I stroked him faster. “Dammit.” He groaned, head tipping back as I pleasured him.

Then he snapped into action. Without warning, he peeled me away from the pallet and carried me to a wooden crate stocked against the bulkhead. Before I could say a word, he peeled my legs from his waist and set me on the ground.

Towering over me, he pressed a heated kiss to my lips, fingers massaging the back of my head. “Turn around.” He instructed me.

My stomach twisted and I obeyed immediately. With his hand still in my hair, he pushed me down, folding me over the edge of the crate. My breath quickened, heart hammering against my ribs.

He pulled my hair, guiding my head until I was looking at him over my shoulder. “Relax for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his other hand pushing my dress up to my waist.

I had never been so desperate and embarrassed at the same time. My thighs squeezed together, anticipation building between my legs.

He hooked a finger through the narrow band of my panties and slowly tugged them down. The moment I was exposed, his breath caught, eyes washing over me.

Heat crawled up my neck and I writhed in his hand, trying to hide my face, but he held me still. A calloused hand swept over my bare skin, sending goosebumps up my spine.

He folded himself over me, gently tugging my head up until his lips met my ear. “Do I still have your permission?”

I nodded, shivering breaths tumbling from my mouth.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to my temple. “No, sweetheart, I need to hear you say it.”

I liked him like this. Confident and domineering. The shift in his exterior left me weak in the knees.

“Yes.” I panted, arching my back shamelessly.

Straightening, his hand slid from my ass to between my legs. I made a small whimpering sound, pathetic and needy and so embarrassingly turned on that I couldn’t look at him.

His middle finger circled my clit and my entire body responded to the sensation. The moment he felt how wet I was, his grip tightened in my hair.

“Fuck.” He hissed under his breath, rocking his hips against me.

Then his hands abandoned me. Before I could wonder what he was doing, his belt jingled and the sound of a zipper met my ears.

“It’s pretty soundproof down here.” His deep voice echoed through the hangar. “I think it’s my lucky day.”

“Leon,” I whined softly.

Sudden pressure at my opening rendered me silent. But he didn’t push himself in. Not yet.

“I want to hear you.” His husky voice sent another chill down my spine. “If you want me to stop, I stop. If you want me to slow down, I slow down.”

A hand found the center of my back, thumb stroking my spine. “So tell me what you want me to do, Kendra.”

I ground my teeth, pushing back against his hips. “I want you to stop teasing me.”

His hips inched forward, the tip of him sliding into me with ease. “Like that?”

I writhed against the crate. “Jesus Christ, Leon, please just fuck me.”

A low, amused breath slipped out of him. “Yes, ma’am.”

Then he slid into me completely. The entire length of him. Buried inside of me, coaxing a moan from my lips. Both of his hands braced against the crate as he folded over me, his breath warming my ear. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I bit my tongue just to stop myself from cursing at him. My silence only made him laugh in my ear.

He kept his pace painstakingly slow. Torturously slow. I responded by rocking my hips against him.

Both hands grabbed me by the hips, holding me still. “Faster?”

“Please.” I panted.

He released me only long enough to grab me under the knee and shove one leg onto the crate. My other leg he hiked around his hip, giving himself better access.

Then he was ramming into me without mercy. Every thrust forced loud moans out of me, my voice echoing off the steel walls.

“Talk to me.” He practically begged. “Am I hurting you?”

I reached back for him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. “No—fuck—keep going. Just like that.”

Keeping an even rhythm, he lifted my hips higher and drove into me harder. My hands shot out, bracing against the crate like I might fall.

An arm slipped under my stomach, wrapping around my waist. “I’ve got you.” He promised me. “You’re safe, I got you.”

The words relaxed me immediately, I melted against the crate, finally allowing the tension in my body to dissipate.

“That’s it.” He praised me, pressing a kiss to the back of my head. “Good girl. You’re okay.”

A long sound of pleasure waned from my lips. His own sounds only spurred me on. He was breathless, a gruff grunt rumbling from his chest with every thrust. Clearly enjoying himself.

It was intoxicating. I wanted to listen to the sound of his pleasure on repeat. Wanted him to keep talking to me until I finished.

My legs shook so violently that I was glad he wasn’t letting me use them. I definitely would have collapsed.

His name fell from my lips, my fingers digging into the wood. I could practically feel him in my stomach, slamming against my walls until pain and pleasure coexisted.

Snaking his free hand around my waist, he quickly began to rub circles over my clit again. I bucked against his hand, crying out as he stimulated me in every way possible.

“Fuck, Leon,” ragged breaths tore out of me. “That’s perfect. Keeping going.”

He obeyed me, completely out of breath and exhausted, but that didn’t stop him.

I could feel the heat building in my core. My hips moved of their own volition, grinding against him as I got closer.

I cried his name, his only warning.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my back. “Cum with me, sweetheart.”

That was all I needed to hear. I finished so violently that my legs kicked, moaning so sharply I might as well have screamed.

Leon’s thrusts stopped as well, short gasps escaping him as he came inside me.

For a moment, neither of us moved. We simply laid there, trying to catch our breath. Then he pulled out of me and carefully peeled me away from the wood, cradling my body against his torso. My legs gave out, dangling between us, but he held me up as though I weighed nothing.

He pressed rapid kisses across my shoulder. Up my neck. To the back of my head. Tentatively, he set me back on my feet, still supporting me as he pulled my dress back down. My lower back ached from the entire ordeal and I leaned all of my weight against him.

“You okay?” He mumbled against my ear.

I nodded, lungs on fire. “Can we do that again?”

He snickered, hands sweeping over my arms. “Maybe later. We need to get back. We’ve been gone too long.”

I groaned, head rolling across his chest. “You know, I don’t think we’re as discreet as you’d like to believe. All of them have gotta know.”

With a breathy laugh, he turned me around until I was facing him. Sweat dripped down his temples and he wiped at his face. “You’re probably right.” He mumbled.

With a lopsided smirk, I pushed onto the tips of my toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. I meant for by it to be quick. He had other plans. His hand caught the back of my head and he kissed me slowly. Sweetly. Lingering as long as I would allow him.

When I finally came up for air, I fell back onto the flats of my feet. I knew he would try to go. But I wasn’t ready yet. So I leaned forward—and rested my forehead against his chest.

With a long exhale, he threaded his fingers into my hair. Neither of us said a thing. His heartbeat thrummed against my skin. I turned my cheek into it, pressing my ear to his sternum just so I could listen to it.

After a long time, his fingers traced gentle circles over my back. “Ready?” He murmured.

I nodded, forcing myself to step away. He collected his jacket and my star book. I grabbed my discarded underwear, slipping them back on and straightening my clothes.

As we headed for the door, I ran my fingers through the knots in my curls.

“How’s my hair?” I asked him.

He paused, looking me over and biting back a smile. Without saying anything, he reached out and smoothed down several areas for me. “It could be worse.” He finally answered.

I crinkled my nose and quickly tried to fix it without a mirror. “Maybe we should just go to bed.”

Smiling, he turned away and yanked the door open.

We headed upstairs, pausing on the lower deck. There was no music. No voices. No sound of a party at all.

I looked to Leon first, gauging his reaction. His brows furrowed and he stepped in front of me.

Suddenly, I was on high alert. Something was wrong. And I was unarmed.

But Leon wasn’t. He moved quickly, peering into every door we passed. Ensuring the room was clear. Hurrying to the next one.

When we reached the mess hall, he held out a hand to stop me. I obeyed the silent command, waiting several feet away as he leaned into the open doorway.

His body went still. I counted the seconds. Ten. Much longer than usual. A wary hand found the gun in his pocket. He pulled it out, but he didn’t rack it. Not yet. Instead, he stepped into the room.

I didn’t move.

What felt like minutes passed. Long, silent minutes.

Then he called for me.

My shoulders dropped and I timidly stepped into the room. “What’s wrong?” I whispered, but I caught sight of the scene immediately.

Everyone was asleep. Not dead. Their chests rose and fell evenly, some of them twitching in their sleep. And it wasn’t the entire crew. Owen and Wraith were missing—likely already in bed. Same as Jill, Piers, and Lopez. Nowhere to be found. The rest of the crew? All strewn throughout the room.

I crossed my arms, the gesture anxious. “Too much alcohol?” I asked.

He looked to the snack table, eyes sweeping the mountain of unopened alcohol. He made no remark.

Instead, he came back to me, folding me under an arm and guiding me to the door. “You should go to bed. I’ll take care of this.”

I frowned, but I let him lead him out of the mess hall. We passed through the main living quarters, where Lex, Piers, Lopez, and Harper were all fast asleep. Our footsteps echoed off the hall walls as he led me to my room. Owen snored loudly on the other side of the Captain’s quarter’s door.

Had we really been gone that long?

Leon pushed my door open and I was greeted immediately by Harbor. The spaniel jumped up, his tail swinging at a mile a minute. I stroked the top of his head several times, giving him a kiss before pushing him down.

“Get in bed.” Leon instructed me. “I’m gonna wake them up. Make sure they get to their bunks.”

I nodded, taking my constellation book from his hands. He was gone a moment later.

Turning back to the room, I took three steps away from the bunk, setting the book on top of the desk.

Just before I turned away, I caught sight of something sticking half way out between the wall and the desk top. An envelope. My brow twitched and I reached for it

It was my letter. From the president. The one I had left on the front corner of the desk.

So how had it fallen behind it? Did someone touch it? Did someone read it?

I shook my head. We’re on a ship, for god’s sake. A ship that lurches and tilts and sways with the waves. It had probably slipped across the desk at some point.

Kendra

September 26, 2005 — Monday

The paper crinkled in my hand. Words stared up at me and I stared back, unseeing, the print nothing more than a grey blur.

Anger bubbled up inside of me. Every word replayed in my head. So impersonal. Cold. Indifferent. Nothing like Leon's letter.

They were friends. Leon mattered to him. His skill set was still something the president coveted, but the words he had chosen... they weren't the way you speak to someone who's just a soldier.

Stay safe. Gratitude. The very best. A trusted friend.

My letter? He'd called everything I went through extraordinary circumstances. The murder of my entire family, being kidnapped, hunted, tortured, experimented on. Extraordinary circumstances.

His own people contributed to those "circumstances." A failure, he said. His most sincere regret, he said.

No apology. No 'sorry that the agency I created had produced terrorists that have ruined your entire life.'

Thank you. He said. Thank you for developing that vaccine. But you still owe us more. Your body. Your autonomy. Your freedom.

Nothing I did was enough. Nothing I'm doing is enough.

I gave them evidence.

I gave them intelligence.

I gave them a virus sample.

I gave them my blood.

I gave them my bone marrow.

I sacrificed everything. I gave them everything. No matter what it had cost me. And somehow, it wasn't enough. They were asking for more. Asking what they could use me for next.

Everything that had destroyed me... reduced to clinical language. Hardships, they called it.

The brutal murder of my brother. Of my adoptive parents. Angela's sacrifice. Taking Leon. Destroying me. All of it. Just a price I have to pay. While they sacrifice nothing. While they lose nothing.

'I offer my sincere regret. Return home and fulfill your responsibilities.'

I tossed the letter on the desk and got to my feet, feeling Leon's gaze as he tracked every one of my movements. I drifted toward the window, paused, turned on my heel and went to the wardrobe. For a few seconds, I pretended to look for something. Flipping through the jackets and flicking the hangers back.

How is it that all of this always came down to what they needed from me?

USSTRATCOM needed my skills. Verissimo needed my genetics. The BSAA and the President needed my immunity. To study the regeneration. Use it to do god knows what.

Not a single one of them cared about where that left me. What it was doing to me.

I'm an object. A tool. An asset. It didn't matter if their curiosity destroyed me. They were going to take and take and take—

"You can wear this one again." Leon said behind me, bringing my thoughts to a screeching halt.

"Hm?" I stepped back, turning to see him lifting a jacket from the back of the desk chair.

"You're cold, right?" He tilted his head, gaze flicking to the wardrobe briefly. "I told you. None of your jackets are warm enough."

I let out a breath, crossing to him. He helped me slip my arms into the sleeves and then turned me around, zipping it for me as if I couldn't do it myself.

If anyone else had done that, I would have hated it. Would have stepped away and told them I'm more than capable of zipping my own damn jacket.

But I let Leon do it. When the zipper reached my throat, he carefully pulled the collar straight, sweeping my curls free from the neckline.

It was instinct—the way I tipped forward and pressed my forehead to his chest. I didn't hug him. Didn't hold onto him. All I did was simply fall against him.

His arms came up immediately, wrapping me in warmth. Wrapping me in safety.

The only one who had never asked anything of me. The only one who never took. Only gave.

He too would be stolen from me. That was why I refrained from holding onto him.

It was the universe's cruel joke on me.

You are capable of being loved. But it will never stay.

If I had known how much Leon would mean to me—if I had known how little time we would have had—I wouldn't have taken it for granted. I would have allowed myself to cherish it. To hold onto him.

I wish I'd let myself hold on.

Instead, I stepped out of his arms and moved for the door.

"I'm starving. You ready for breakfast?"

He hummed, the only thing that sounded like he might be agreeing with me, but said nothing.

The moment the door was open, Harbor bounded down the hall, barking and jumping around my feet. I greeted him with a pat on the head and carefully stepped past him, even as he followed on my heels.

We stepped into the main living quarters in time to see all the boys groggily sitting up in their bunks, sleeping bags, and hammocks. Piers stretched from the floor, his eyes especially sleepy.

"You have a rooster for a dog." He yawned.

I snickered and pointed at the stairs. "Go outside, buddy."

Harbor barked and dashed for the stairs.

Rook threw his blankets back. "Oh, he listens to you. But when I tell him to stop barking, he thinks that means bark louder."

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind me. I turned expecting Leon. Instead, Owen's giant frame filled the hallway, making me jump. I bumped into Leon, who was standing to my right, just behind me. He caught my arm, his other hand finding the center of my back. His hand rubbed my spine once, reassuring, before falling away.

The Captain smiled at me and stepped around me slowly. "Mornin', kiddo."

I nodded to him, watching as he headed for the opposite hall. "Jill has breakfast cookin'." He said just before he ducked through the hall. "You lot better get outta bed and show her some gratitude."

Wraith slipped past me next. "How'd everyone sleep through that storm?"

"There was a storm?" Bishop grumbled.

Wraith grabbed his blanket and tugged it off of him. "Wouldn't expect you to know. Bet that hangover is kicking your ass."

Bishop squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm trying not to think about it."

My gaze went to Leon, silently asking him the question I wouldn't ask aloud.

Was there a storm? I hadn't noticed one. In fact, I'd slept just fine.

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if to ask me 'you didn't notice?'

I snorted and looked away. At that moment, a hammock flipped and Avery nearly planted face first into the deck.

Stifling a laugh, I stepped forward to check on him. "Might wanna wake up before you crawl out of a hammock."

"That's what he gets for calling dibs." Piers muttered.

"Yeah, well, if the fuel delivery isn't here today, you can have the hammock tonight." Avery stretched, his back cracking.

"Why? So you can sabotage it?" Piers snorted.

"I'm sensing tension." I grabbed at the air between them, as if it were thicker.

"I say they duke it out." Bishop laughed tiredly.

"My bets on Piers." Leon smirked, crossing his arms.

Piers got to his feet and looked Avery up and down. "Kendra could fight better than him."

I lifted my hands defensively. "Woah?! Why am I getting caught in the crossfire?"

He grinned at me. "It was a compliment."

"Tch." I crossed my arms. "Hardly."

Avery flunked me on the forehead. "I'm the one being insulted, asshole."

I rubbed at my forehead. "So sorry to take the attention away from you, Princess Avery."

He pointed his finger in my face in warning. "Watch it."

"Or what? You gonna kick my ass?"

"I'd like to see him try." Leon muttered.

Jill, who had stepped into the room only moments ago, tilted her head. "You can't help her. I wanna see her kick his ass."

"I wouldn't need to." Leon deadpanned. "I already know Kendra would put him on his ass."

Avery threw his arms out. "Ain't no fucking way you're all ganging up on me."

I patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Avery, that would never happen."

"Thank you, Kens."

"I would never hit someone weaker than me."

"That's it." Suddenly, his shoulder was in my stomach and I was being folded over his back.

I grunted, kicking and scrambling for the something to hold onto. A chorus of laughter met my ears as he spun me in a circle, dizzying me, and then roughly threw me into his hammock.

"Be careful!" Jill shouted, clearly amused. "No rough housing."

"She's fine." Leon said so clearly that I almost laughed.

Traitor.

Avery cinched the hammock closed, laughing as I flailed inside.

"Let me out!"

"But you're so strong!" He mocked me. "Come on, Kens, kick your way out."

"Avery!" I grabbed both sides and tried to wrench them open to no avail. "When I get outta here, your ass is going straight in the ocean!"

Suddenly, the Captain's voice interrupted the chaos. "Breakfast is almost ready."

A few footsteps retreated down the hall, though enough of them stayed behind to laugh at me as I continued to fight.

"Should I spin her?" Avery asked.

I kicked at him as hard as I could through the hammock, hearing a satisfying grunt as I got him in the stomach. The sound of his feet stumbling backward met my ear and fresh air poured through the now open flaps of the hammock.

I scrambled upward, poking my head into the open.

"You kicked me in the fucking lung." Avery wheezed, doubled over.

"I was aiming lower."

"There'll be no dick kickin' on my ship." Owen cut in, looking deceptively stern. "Now get her outta there and get ya asses to the kitchen."

Avery waved dismissively, holding his abdomen as he staggered away. "She can get herself out."

Leon shook his head, a small smirk on his lips, and crossed over to me, offering me a hand.

I took it, grumbling the entire time as the hammock wobbled and swayed with every one of my movements.

We were the last to get to the kitchen. Harper and Lopez stood in the doorway. Harper was the first to notice me. He immediately stepped aside, waving me forward.

"Ladies first." His tone was devoid of emotion, but the gesture was nice enough.

I half expected Harper to say something else after that. Strike up a conversation. But he was nothing but a quiet man. Lopez was the one who made a few jokes about Avery as I piled food onto my plate.

When my plate was loaded, I waited for Leon and we found our way to the mess room with everyone else.

I took a quick look around, noting that Lex was the only one missing. Seemed I wouldn't be getting my apology today.

Settling next to Avery on the sofa, I had to chew on my cheek to keep from laughing when he gave me a wary look and crossed his legs.

"Relax." I set my plate on my lap. "Retaliation will come when you least expect it."

He snorted. "Yeah, why would that ever unrelax me."

"Unrelax isn't a word, dipshit."

"You're being mean to me." He stabbed his eggs.

"I'm always mean to you."

He shook his head, shoveling a bite into his mouth and barely chewing before he swallowed. "To think I bought you a birthday present."

Bishop froze from the other side of the coffee table, his gaze snapping to me. "Birthday?"

"It was a while ago." I waved it off.

Avery quirked a brow. "It was two weeks ago."

"Sixteen days." I corrected.

"We missed your birthday?" Bishop seemed genuinely astonished by this.

"It was like a week before I met you." I nearly rolled my eyes.

"Well, what did you do? Did you celebrate?" Bishop leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face.

I looked to Avery, lowering my voice. "Thanks a lot."

He grinned back at me. "Come on, Kens, how'd you celebrate?"

"I didn't." My gaze snapped back to my plate. "Leon stopped and got me a dessert. And then we kept driving."

"Oh, that's not good enough." Bishop clicked his tongue. "We should do something."

"No." I said quickly, looking directly at him. "It's fine. Really. It's not a big deal."

Avery tapped his fork against the plate. "Kendra doesn't like being fussed over."

"And yet," I turned to give him a death glare. "You bought me a present anyway."

He made a disapproving sound, forking another bite. "It's nothing extravagant."

"What is it?" Bishop asked excitedly, though he winced, holding his head at his own sudden movement.

"I'm not gonna spoil it." He practically inhaled the last of his eggs.

Wraith walked past, dropping a bottle of Tylenol on the table in front of Bishop. "Here, sweet pea, take this."

"I don't need it." He whined.

"You don't look tough, you look stupid." She pushed it closer. "It'll get rid of that headache, dumbass."

"I know how Tylenol works." He grumbled.

Wraith straightened and headed for the other side of the room, but not before she lightly smacked the back of his head.

"Ow! That hurt!" He glared at her.

She shrugged. "Wouldn't have hurt if you'd taken the Tylenol when you woke up like I told you."

Bishop snatched the bottle, muttering something under his breath.

Beside me, Leon made a sound. Almost like a laugh. Reminding me he was still there. He always got quieter when we were in a group. Like he wasn't sure how to participate.

I turned to him, trying to pull him into the conversation. "Don't approve of Bishop's hangover methods?"

The corner of his lip twitched. "It's entertaining." He paused, seeming to consider something, then tilted his head. "Why are you dodging the birthday conversation?"

My smile dropped and I gave him a warning look. "Not you too."

He lifted his hand in surrender. "Just a question."

"What?" Bishop interjected. "You have trauma with birthdays or something?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "Birthdays have just never been a big deal. Don't see the point of starting now."

"Well thats just all the more reason to make a big deal. You're telling me you never had a sweet sixteen? The big twenty-one?"

I shrugged casually. "I've never been a big drinker."

"That's just sad." He shook his head with disappointment.

"I'm sure someone else's birthday is closer anyway. Mine already passed. When's your birthday?" I turned to Leon.

He shook his head. "July thirty-first. Sorry, can't use me as a distraction."

I huffed, turning to look at Bishop. "What about you?"

"January thirtieth." He beamed.

Avery swallowed the last of his food. "You know I'm an April baby."

"What about Rook?" I asked Bishop.

"December."

"That's close enough to September." I argued.

"That's three months away." Avery countered. "If we use the law of rounding, your birthday is closer."

"What is this, fucking algebra?" I muttered, stabbing a sausage.

He chuckled, setting his plate on the table. "It's fine. If you don't want a fuss—you don't want a fuss. No one's gonna force you to have a nice birthday party."

"Good." I chewed my food thoroughly before swallowing.

"But if there was just a random celebration, with random drinks and snacks and music, well, that's just a coincidence." Avery smirked.

I raised a brow.

Bishop grinned, leaning forward. "With random party games and spontaneous dancing. Definitely just a coincidence."

"As long as there's no cake and no birthday song, then it hardly has anything to do with me, does it?" I cut through my sausage with the fork, hiding my smile.

"Pfft." Avery waved theatrically. "No. No, never. That would make it a very specific party. Which it absolutely is not. Right, Bishop?"

"Right."

From a few feet away, Rook shook his head. "Oh, you two need to be separated. Right now."

I saw an opportunity to deflect and I took it. With a teasing look, I pointed my fork in Rook's direction. "Someone's jealous Bishop is making other friends."

Rook gave me a deadpan look that made me snicker. "Bishop is always making friends." He gestured to me. "Look at you. He practically adopted you."

Bishop rested his elbow on the table. "What's wrong, Rookie? You want my attention?"

"Don't call me that." He threw a piece of potato at his head. It bounced off his brow and Bishop chuckled.

As they began to, successfully, bicker back and forth, Leon leaned closer, patting my knee once to get my attention. He was a lot closer than I expected because when I turned to face him, our foreheads nearly collided.

"I'll be right back." He said the words quickly and was on his feet before I could respond.

When he headed for the hall, I was tempted to follow him, but Avery called to me before I could. I was lost to conversation before I could question where he was going.

By the time everyone finished breakfast, the storm had kicked back up. Piers watched the downfall through the porthole. Every once in a while, he'd press his finger to his earpiece and say something I couldn't hear from across the room.

Finally, the lieutenant turned his gaze toward Avery. He straightened beside me, at attention immediately.

"The fuel delivery is a day out." Piers relayed. "Storm is delaying them."

"So, we're staying another night?"

Piers nodded. "As long as it doesn't get worse, they should be here by tomorrow morning."

Avery nodded, turning to look to Lopez—the flight engineer. "We should do a quick safety check."

Lopez snorted. "Think the storm got to the helicopter all the way down in the hangar?"

"I think," Avery got to his feet, "that it's better safe than sorry."

"You treat that thing like a child."

Avery shoved him playfully. "I can assure you an aircraft requires more maintenance than a baby."

"Yeah, yeah," Lopez waved him toward the door. "Let's go do your safety check."

"She might need some maintenance." Avery added, ducking out of the room. His voice carried briefly from the hall. "We flew her for two days straight."

"I'm the engineer, asshole, let me worry about that." Lopez grumbled.

I collected the dishes the from the table, getting ready to carry them to the kitchen. I stopped only when I reached Leon's plate. He hadn't eaten everything yet. In fact, he said he'd be right back. But that felt like it had been a while ago. Where was he?

Owen clapped his hands together, startling me back to the present.

"We oughtta do a weather check." He looked in our direction. "Bishop, Rook—you two go secure all the loose gear topside."

"Yes, Captain," they said in unison, moving immediately.

He turned his gaze toward the far wall. "Harvey, you're on inspection. Double check the hatches."

"On it." The scrawny crew member nodded and scurried out of the room.

Owen looked toward the porthole. "Mouse, you're with me. The equipment oughtta be covered. Grab the tarps and carabiners."

Mouse got to his feet and followed the captain out of the mess hall. Piers and Harper didn't need directions. They followed on the Captain's heels like they were part of the crew too.

That left me alone in the mess hall with Jill and Wraith.

"Should we go help?" I asked, balancing the dishes in my hands.

Wraith laughed, her voice as raspy as ever. "He doesn't want you up there, sweet pea."

I frowned. "Why?"

Jill turned in her chair. "Because. Ocean storms aren't a joke. You don't know what you're doing. You could get hurt."

"Well, what about you guys? You're part of the crew." I argued.

"We're doing exactly what the Captain wants us to do. Staying put."

I snorted. "Why? Because we're women?"

Wraith clicked her tongue. "Careful now." She took the dishes from my hands. "Owen wouldn't be stupid enough to underestimate a woman."

Jill smiled softly. "He wants us down here with you. To keep an eye on you."

I lifted my hands defensively. "What? Like I'm some trouble maker? I've been an angel."

Jill snorted indignantly. "For the most part."

Wraith leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. "There's people on this ship we don't know. So we don't leave you alone. You understand?"

Realization dawned on me. They were wary of Piers' crew?

"Avery would never hurt me." I argued. "Neither would Piers."

Jill gave me a look like she wanted to say something. She didn't. But I knew immediately what was on the tip of her tongue.

'You thought the same about Moroe.'

My jaw tightened and I slid onto the stool beside Jill. Wraith left the mess hall with the dishes in hand.

For the first time, I was completely alone with Jill. I looked her over once, noting everything that stood out first. The gun strapped to her belt. The second gun tucked into her waist band. A jacket that leaned heavier on the right side—the pockets full with something heavy. Loaded magazines if I had to venture a guess.

If I hadn't grown to trust Jill on some basic level, I might have been intimidated. There was no wariness in my gut. No voice in the back of my head telling me to be careful. Which she might have been honored by if she knew how on edge I'd been the last few weeks.

Especially with my persistent fear of agents and law enforcement. It made me... curious about her.

"So," I started, averting my gaze. "Have you always been navy? Or is the ship a new thing for you?"

She swirled her orange juice, the pulp spinning within the glass like a small tornado. "I've never been big on the ocean."

Her honesty was surprising. And refreshing. "Afraid of water?"

The corner of her lips lifted. "I don't like staying in one place very long."

"You feel trapped." I surmised.

"Maybe." She looked at me from the corner of her eye. "We're not navy, you know. I mean, Owen's always been more comfortable on a ship. The ocean is his home. But we're still BSAA."

"I don't know much about the agency." I admitted.

"Well, that's not surprising. Chris and I founded it a year ago. We're still trying to... figure things out."

I tilted my head. "Oh? What did you do before this?"

"I was STARS. During Raccoon City." She sighed, setting her glass down. "After that, I became a private operative for a while. I did odd jobs here and there. Anything that meant I could help with all the shit shows that have popped up since Umbrella started their bullshit."

I laughed, shaking my head.

"What?" She raised a brow.

"Nothing. Just you. Being a private operative. It's kinda ironic."

"How is that ironic?"

I held out my hands, as if to signal to myself. "Well, that's what I am." Pausing, I dropped my hand and drummed my fingers against the table. "I think I remember it was my job in particular that made you suspicious of me a week ago."

Jill smiled softly. "Yeah, well, you weren't an agent. You were a spy. And considering you worked for a private sector, I couldn't rule out the possibility of mercenary either."

"Fair enough." My hand settled and I looked to the door. Expecting someone to come back eventually.

The orange juice sloshed as the ship swayed from a sudden violent wave. My fingers tightened around the table edge, like it might stop me from falling over.

Jill watched me closely. "So, what got you into the field?"

I exhaled, long and heavy, and turned until my spine was pressed into the table. The stool creaked beneath my weight. "I kinda just... ended up here."

She rested her forearms on top of the table, relaxing a bit more. "How the hell does that happen?"

I rolled my ankle absently, the joint cracking from the motion. "I was a dancer. A lifetime ago." A bittersweet smile found my face. "I was a good dancer. I competed. My room was full of trophies and ribbons. It was all I wanted to do."

Jill hummed. There was no judgment to it. She was listening. Absorbing the information like it actually made sense. I knew it didn't. Not yet.

"It wasn't just dance." I continued. "I was in gymnastics and calisthenics. I was good at that too, but... god, I loved dance. That's what my body was made for. That's where I belonged."

She turned her gaze down to her drink, refusing to look at me now.

I leaned my head back, my hair falling over the table top. "But I tore my ACL." My eyes stayed fixed to the ceiling. "I did a lot of physical therapy. But my career in dance was over."

I chewed on the inside of the my cheek, pretending I wasn't sad over this. Given everything I'd been through, a career ending injury seven years ago shouldn't have stung. It shouldn't still affect me. There were worse things. Awful things.

My head fell to the side and I caught Jill's gaze. "That's when I met Angela. We were both doing physical therapy together. In this small group at the facility. She had been injured on a mission. I didn't know that at the time. But we talked. We got close. And when she found out that I couldn't go back to what I was doing before, she offered me an opportunity. Said that my skills with gymnastics and all that would be useful for what she does. Which is funny in hindsight."

I paused, laughing to myself.

Jill smiled too. "You can't be serious? What was the thought process? 'Oh wow, you're really good at backflips, you'd be an excellent spy.'"

That made me laugh harder and I shook my head. "Sounds stupid when you put it like that."

She clicked her tongue. "Yeah, well, I think I can kinda understand it too. She seemed like she was sending you on some physically demanding missions. I mean, squeezing through an air vent? Pretty crazy."

"What can I say?" I pretended to brag. "I'm just so skilled."

"You are." She agreed immediately. "I mean, I was never a dancer or some elite athlete, but, I know those things require certain qualities. Discipline. Agility. Flexibility. Coordination. Dedication."

I hummed. "Yeah. Sure." I dropped my head back down, staring at my hands. "Angela said she liked training me. Said I was easy to train. Goal oriented. Eager." I traced my thumb over a knuckle. "I think I was just... trying desperately to belong somewhere else. I wanted to impress her. I wanted to be good."

A humorless laugh escaped me. "Dance was gone. Everyone else seemed to know who they were supposed to be. I didn't." I shrugged. "So when Angela handed me a direction to run in... I ran."

"You ran." She nodded. "Until you... kinda just ended up here."

An amused smirk found my face. "And the worst part? I never liked it. I hated it. I mean, I felt like I was doing something important. Something that might make a difference. But... it also felt like... a part of my soul just—just died." I shrugged, staving off the emotion that tightened my throat.

"There's still time." Jill said suddenly. "To do something else."

"There's not." I rubbed at the center of my palm. "And I could blame everyone else. It would be easy to. But when it comes down to it... I made my decision. I did that. Not my uncle. Not my parents. Not the government. I ended up here because of my own choices."

She looked to the porthole, watching as the rain hammered against the glass. "I think you're acting like your life is already over. Sure, those lab coats want to study you. But no one can keep you locked up. Not forever. They'll get their answers. A new virus will break out. You won't be immune to that one. And everyone will focus on something else. They always do."

"Lots of assumptions there."

She met my gaze. "I've been doing this a long time. I know the pattern."

I didn't have a response to that. Brief silence settled between us.

Jill turned on her stool, resting her weight on her elbow. "I'm sure you were a beautiful dancer, Kendra."

I sighed, smiling softly.

"I was."

She traced the rim of her glass with her finger. "Maybe you can't compete anymore. But... I don't think you have to leave it behind entirely either."

"What? Like, be a teacher?" I laughed incredulously.

She shrugged. "Why not? The world needs art. This can't be all there is."

My brow twitched. Suddenly, I felt like I understood Jill just a little more.

"You think they'll let me?"

"The BSAA?" She cocked her head.

She didn't know about Graham's letter. I wasn't going to tell her. Not yet.

"I mean, you really think after all of this, that I could just... go back to a normal life? Like they won't want more from me?"

She looked down at her hands, clasping her fingers and rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. "You've given them more than enough."

The ship tilted again. This time, I didn't scramble for something to hold onto. The two of us swayed with the motion.

There wasn't anything to say to that. Only the waves crashing against the hull dulled the ringing silence between us.

Maybe it was better I didn't speak. Didn't argue.

I let myself sit with that.

~ ~ ~

Leon

The sound of my own footsteps echoed down the empty hallway. Distant chatter trailed through the lower deck from the mess hall behind me.

He was down here somewhere. When we'd all been in the main living quarters, he was the only one not to be found. If I had to venture a guess—

I pushed the infirmary door open.

Bingo.

Lex stood behind the sink tucked near the back wall. He looked up at the sound of the door, pressing his hand into the page of the textbook he was reading.

A sigh scraped out of him. "Come to punch me?"

Calmly, I sauntered further into the room, rounding a chair. "I thought about it." I lowered myself into the seat, folding my arms across my chest. "That's not why I'm here."

His gaze flicked to the door, as if he expected someone else to walk in. A moment later, he shut the textbook and shelved it. "Kendra's not with you?"

"She's with the crew. Seems to be enjoying her morning."

"That's good." He nodded, leaning back against the bulkhead. "Probably helps she doesn't have a killer hangover."

"She's smart like that." I quipped. It wasn't a direct attack on him. But the implication was enough to make him look at me.

"What's up, Leon." Any friendliness that might have been present was absent now.

"We need to talk. About last night."

He crossed his arms. "Figured as much." Pushing off the wall, he rounded the sink and took a few steps closer to me. "Kendra can't fight her own battles?"

I leaned forward. "You're not talking right now. I am."

His jaw tightened, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

With an exhale, I shook my head. "Look, I get it. You lost people. You don't know what to do with that. Everyone here knows what that feels like."

He rolled his eyes, looking away from me.

I pressed my index finger into the counter in front of me. "But you don't get to lash out at her just because you're hurting."

"It was a drunken ramble." He argued.

"It was shitty."

His eyes found the ground, head shaking. "Yeah. It was. But I'm not gonna apologize to you. What happened last night doesn't have anything to do with you."

"I'm here because I need you to understand something."

"What? The next time I hurt her feelings, you're gonna teach me a lesson?"

"Stop being a dick." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I know you and I aren't friends. And trust me when I say I have no desire to kindle some sort of a relationship with you. I'm fine with hating each other. In fact, I prefer it."

I leaned back in the chair. "But trading blows with you won't solve anything. Sooner or later, I won't be around anymore. And this crew will be the only line of defense Kendra will have."

"Defense against what?"

"She's in the custody of a foreign agency. In a foreign country. She's going to be outnumbered and scared." I let out a breath. "You guys are all she has. She doesn't have a family. She doesn't have anyone in her corner. She's alone. And she doesn't have to be."

Lex turned away from me, scrubbing a hand over the short strands of his hair. "I didn't mean what I said. I was just drunk. It came out wrong."

"Then tell her that." I shrugged. "And don't let it happen again. Kendra is one of you now. Maybe you didn't mean it, but she doesn't dismiss shit like that. She's a sponge. You throw something at her and it sticks. She carries a lot of guilt. She doesn't need to carry yours too."

That seemed to strike a chord. He swiveled on his heel, glaring at me. "Mine? What happened to Junie wasn't my fault."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or you?" I gestured vaguely to the space around us. "Everyone here already knows that you didn't kill your friends."

His brow twitched. Loosing a breath, he smoothed the wires of his mustache down and looked away from me. "I don't get it. You want me and Kendra to be best buddies now? Last I heard, you said you had no plans of leaving her."

This time, I looked away. "Yeah, well, plans change."

He scoffed. "Really? You're really going to leave her behind? Since when did you trust us to protect her?"

"I don't. I don't even trust that I can keep her safe." I shook my head, clamping my mouth shut. My guilt about losing her two weeks ago wasn't something I needed to share with Lex of all people.

"Look, my mission ends once we reach shore. That's an official order from the president. Kendra understands that. She knows I have to leave."

"And she's fine with it?" He didn't sound convinced.

"We both knew we would have to go our separate ways eventually. She's not naive."

"That's not what I asked."

"I can't tell you what Kendra is thinking." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "However we feel about the situation doesn't matter. It is what it is. We can't change it."

He tilted his head at me. For a moment, all he did was look me up and down. Then his eyes narrowed.

"What did Kendra's letter say?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. Your president wanted that letter delivered to her. What did it say?"

"That doesn't concern you."

He crossed his arms. "He asked her to go back. Didn't he?"

My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. "Doesn't matter. She's not going."

"She said no?"

I sighed, getting to my feet and pacing to the opposite wall. "She can't go back."

"Is that her decision? Or yours?"

I spun on my heel. "She can't go back." I pressed harder this time. "I don't know what the BSAA will do to her. But I do know what my people will do. And I won't let it happen again."

Lex was quiet for a moment.

"And if the BSAA does the same? Do you really think they'd be any better?"

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "But I have faith in Chris. And I have faith in this crew. And even though you've been nothing but a fucking dick to her, even you refused to do those tests. Because you didn't want to hurt her. That already puts you one step ahead of strategic command."

"Low bar." Lex muttered.

I ignored him. "If there was another option, I'd take it. But right now, my options are limited. My agency will hurt her. Your agency might not. So she goes with you."

He looked to the door. "You really think if she went with you that you wouldn't be able to protect her?"

"I don't think. I know. She'll be taken into custody. I'll never see her again."

He studied me, the stress in his face fading for the first time since I walked through the door.

"You have feelings for her."

I rolled my eyes, waving it off with a flippant hand. "Lex."

He stepped closer to me. "She won't stay with us. She's going to choose you."

I shook my head, grinding my teeth. For a moment, nothing but silence passed between us. Then I went to the door. "Apologize to her. She's one of you now. Whether you like it or not."

Before he could say another word, I shoved the door open and slipped into the hall.

I barely made it a few feet down the hall when the mess room door opened. Avery and Lopez stepped out, bickering about something. We shouldered past one another and I only got a few more paces before Avery's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Hey, Leon."

I paused and turned, raising a brow.

Avery looked to Lopez. "I'll be down in a sec."

Lopez shrugged and continued down the hall.

Crossing my arms, I waited for Avery to double back. The pilot stopped a few feet short of me. "I wanted to ask you something."

"She doesn't want a birthday party." I said immediately, already knowing where this was going.

He put his hands up. "Not a birthday party. Just a... little get together."

I let out an amused breath. "What do you want?"

"I know Kendra said no birthday cake—"

"She doesn't like cake." I cut him off.

His lips formed a stunned little "oh" shape. "She doesn't?"

"No."

A crooked smile found his face. "What does she like?"

I shook my head. "She said she doesn't want a fuss."

"Come on, man, it's not a fuss. Plus, if there's no cake, then it hardly counts as a birthday thing, right?"

Heaving a sigh, I raked my fingers through my hair. "I doubt we even have the ingredients to make it."

"What is it?" He tilted his head.

The infirmary door opened behind him and Lex stepped into the hall.

I leaned against the bulkhead. "Cheesecake. The kind with fruit on top."

"Fruit?"

"Cherries are her favorite."

Lex locked eyes with me over Avery's shoulder, but said nothing. Avery, on the other hand, hummed, searching my face for a few seconds.

"How long did you say you knew each other?"

"I didn't."

"Eight weeks." Lex responded.

Avery smirked. "Interesting."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, you asked what she likes. I gave you an answer. Don't make this into something it's not."

Lex shifted behind him. "There's still some dairy products from our last food delivery in stock. We can probably fix up a cheesecake from scratch."

Avery made a face. "Either of you know how to make a cheesecake?"

Lex frowned. "No."

They both looked at me.

"Do I look like I carry a recipe book on federal missions?"

Avery snickered and Lex sighed.

"Mouse might have a recipe somewhere." Lex muttered.

Just as he said it, the mess room door scraped open again and this time, several pairs of footsteps poured into the hall.

The entire crew shuffled past us, heading for the stairs of the upper deck. Everyone except Kendra, Jill, and Wraith. Owen brushed past me, clapping me on the shoulder.

"We could use an extra hand." Then he disappeared up the stairs.

Nodding to Avery and Lex, I followed without another word.

"This conversation isn't over!" Avery called after me.

I ignored him.

~ ~ ~

"What kind of music does she like?" Bishop asked as he furiously whisked the metal bowl of soon-to-be cheesecake filling.

Everyone in the kitchen turned to look at me.

"How am I supposed to know?"

I did know. But only because I had danced with her on more than one occasion and had to watch an entire performance in the car when one of her favorite songs played on the radio. None of that was information I was willing to divulge.

Mouse continued to crush graham crackers into crumbs. "Miss Kendra won't want us to only play songs she likes."

Owen nodded from the other side of the counter, arms folded over his chest. "I'm not much of a musician, if I'm honest. I only know a few songs."

Avery stared at Mouse's recipe like it was a math equation. "You play the guitar, right?"

Owen nodded. "Aye."

The pilot shrugged. "I play a bit myself. I know a few songs she likes."

Rook snorted. "The Captain doesn't let anyone touch his guitar."

Avery smirked, looking over the book to meet Owen's eye. "Is that right?"

Owen lifted his shoulders casually. "Jenny's fragile."

"You named your guitar Jenny?"

"After my daughter." He nodded.

"That must get confusing." Avery set the recipe book down. "Do you ever play Jenny for Jenny?" The corner of his lip twitched, clearly amused with himself.

Owen cleared his throat. "Uh, no. She passed away."

He sobered immediately. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

The Captain shrugged. "S'alright. It was a long time ago." Still, his demeanor changed.

"There's gonna be more than just alcohol, right?" I changed the subject, pretending I hadn't overheard. "A lot of us don't drink."

Rook tugged the pantry door open. "We're all out of soda. You're gonna have to be okay with juice."

"What kind of juice?" Piers asked.

"Apple, cranberry, orange, and grape."

"Real grape juice or artificial?" Bishop asked.

"Does it matter?" Rook rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Artificial doesn't taste like grape. It tastes like purple."

"The fuck does purple taste like?"

"Like fake ass grapes." Bishop whisked faster.

"You're gonna ruin the eggs." Mouse frowned.

"No one's forcing you to drink the grape juice." Rook sighed.

"No, I agree with him." Piers interjected. "Real grape is definitely better."

Exasperated with the conversation, I moved to the other side of the kitchen, settling beside Avery. He looked over at me, smiling.

"You got Kendra a present?" Maybe it was a nosy question, but it kept me from having to listen to the grape debate.

He nodded. "Nothing too fancy. Just a book."

"A book?"

"Trust me, she'll love it."

I didn't doubt that. Kendra wasn't the type to be ungrateful about a present simply because it wasn't pricey or flashy.

"What kind of book?"

He grinned, tucking the recipe book under his arm. "Well, on our first mission together, I was flying us back home pretty late at night. She was talking my ear off about the stars. I mean, she wouldn't shut up, she just kept pointing out different ones and telling me about them."

I was deeply familiar with Kendra's fascination with the stars. She'd done the same to me once. Even asked me to pull over on our roadtrip across country just so she could point out the constellations and tell me about them. It was a fond memory. One that I kept to myself.

"Anyway," Avery continued. "She said her adoptive parents had this constellation book. But I guess it vanished when they were moving houses and she never saw it again. She was telling me all about it." He paused, his grin widening. "I found one. At a yard sale. It glows in the dark like she said hers did when she was younger. I think it's the same book."

A small smile betrayed me. I knew exactly what book he was talking about. Kendra had briefly mentioned it to me too.

"You think she'll like it?" Avery asked.

I shoved my hands into my pockets. My fingers found my key ring immediately, thumb tracing the penguin keychain she'd bought for me at the aquarium.

"She'll love it." I murmured.

~ ~ ~

Kendra

Piers and I sat alone in the main living quarters. He watched from the bunk as I wrestled Harbor on the ground, quietly entertained by us both.

Everyone else was gone. Including Leon. I'd hardly seen him today. After reading his letter, I could guess why. He was distancing himself. Which was probably for the better. Once we reached the U.K., we would have to say goodbye.

I didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to linger in it. So I wrestled the dog on the floor of the ship.

Piers snorted as I put Harbor in a fake chokehold, demanding he tap out.

"Not a fair fight. He doesn't even have thumbs."

I released him and ruffled his fur. "Don't put him down. He's capable of anything he puts his mind to. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Harbor barked and scrambled up, jumping on top of me and licking my cheek.

"Hey! Gross!" I tried to back away and only fell onto my back.

Two paws dug into my stomach, punching the air out of my lungs. "Ow!"

Again, Piers laughed. This time, he reached forward and pulled Harbor off of me. "I guess you're right. I think he won that round."

I wheezed, turning onto my side.

He held Harbor back, petting him and silently watching me as I collected myself. When I was finally able to breathe again, I dragged myself to my feet and dropped down into the hammock across from him.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he let Harbor go and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Have you read the letter yet?"

My smile vanished immediately. Of course Piers would know what those letters had said. The real question was... did Piers simply deliver the letters? Or was he here to influence my decision?

"I did." I answered shortly.

He nodded. "Have you decided what you're gonna do?"

I sighed, giving a loose shrug. "Not really."

His eyes went to the hall, as if he were expecting someone to walk in. Then he straightened. "You don't have to decide yet."

I flopped into the hammock, avoiding his eyes. "Why are you asking? Trying to fly me back with you?"

He huffed through his nose. "No. If you wanted to go back with us, you could. But that's not why I'm here."

"And why are you here?"

"My only job was to make sure you got the president's message."

I swung my legs back and forth over the edge of the hammock. "How old are you?"

"What?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"How old are you?"

"...Nineteen."

I hummed. "Pretty young for a lieutenant."

He let out a breath. "I enlisted when I was seventeen."

Lifting my head, I pinned him with my gaze. "Do you know what happens to people like me?"

He tilted his head. "People like you?"

I gave him a flat look. "You know what I mean. Medical anomalies. People the government has an interest in keeping."

He averted his gaze. "I'm usually deployed. I don't spend a lot of time around civilians. No matter how important they are."

I sat up, watching him closer. "That's not what I asked."

Piers shifted, cracking his knuckles absently. "I know enough."

That almost made me laugh. "What does that mean?"

Slowly, his grey eyes found me again. "Do you honestly think it will be any different at the BSAA?"

My jaw snapped shut and I ground my teeth. I picked at a loose thread in my sleeve. "Can I ask you something?"

He lifted his hands, as if to indicate to the empty room.

"If I go back, do you think I'd be a civilian?"

An amused breath left him. "What else? You think you'd be an agent?"

"Or cattle." I shrugged. "Well, in this case, more like a rat. You know. Something to poke and prod. Not someone who really gets to say no."

The amusement faded. "I'd like to think you still have a choice."

"But you don't think that?"

He sighed. "It would be a big sacrifice. I know the President only wants to do what's best for our citizens. I don't always agree with their methods or their logic. But it's not without reason."

I lowered my voice, afraid someone else might hear. "I already made my sacrifice. Every night, I dream about what they did to me. When is it going to be enough?"

His jaw tightened. "I'm not the one asking you to do anything, Kendra."

"No. You're just the one delivering the message."

"I'm not your enemy." He refused to look away now. "Whatever you decide to do? I'll have your back."

I hummed. "You're not gonna convince me it's my responsibility to serve my country?"

"That's not my judgment to make."

"What if it was? Do you think I owe my country this?"

Another frustrated breath. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

I smiled. "No."

He shook his head. "Look, you're looking for answers I can't give you. This isn't a decision you can make by collecting enough data or opinions."

"That's not—"

"It is. Whatever choice you make is one you'll have to live with. What does it matter what I think? What the president thinks?"

"It kind of matters a lot what he thinks." I muttered.

"Only if you let it." He leaned forward. "I respect the Commander in Chief. And I will always love and defend my country. But they aren't the ones living with the consequences. You are."

A defeated sigh scraped out of me. As frustrated as I was with his answer, he was right. Which only irritated me more. Maybe part of me wished someone would tell me what to do. To me it felt like both decisions were the same thing. One entailed a foreign government, and the other entailed my own. Perhaps that should have made the decision easy. But my people had failed me. Over and over and over again. Could I really put my trust in them now?

"Kendra?" A feminine voice cut through my thoughts.

I perked up, turning toward the sound. Wraith was calling me from another room. Not from the mess hall, but from the officer's quarters.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come here?"

I looked to Piers. He gave me a thin smile and jerked his head toward the mess hall. "I'm gonna go make myself useful somewhere."

"Okay." I nodded, slipping off the hammock.

Giving me a short goodbye, we went our separate ways, disappearing down opposite halls. I made my way to the three doors at the end of the small hallway and turned right instead of left, pausing at the door that was slightly ajar. Timidly, I knocked three times.

"Wraith?"

"You can come in."

I pushed the door open, taking only a single step into the room. I'd only been in here once, when she had offered me some of her own herbal tea. Even then, I stayed where I was now, refusing to venture any further. It felt weird to be in someone else's room.

Wraith was at her wardrobe, flicking through hangers. She tossed a look over her shoulder, smiling at me.

"I could use your opinion." She said simply, pulling two different articles from the wardrobe. "Which one should I wear?"

Alarm bells went off in my head. "You're... dressing up?" That was weird. No one here dressed up. They were agents. Soldiers. I was surprised Wraith would even have anything nicer than a uniform in her inventory.

"No, we're dressing up."

I raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to. And Jill won't wear a dress. So I'm making you wear one with me."

I gave her a deadpan stare. "Why?"

"Why not?"

I crossed my arms. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the birthday party that Avery is definitely not planning, would it?"

"Not a birthday party. It's just a... hang out."

"Right," I bit back a smile. "So, if it's not a birthday party, why do you want me to dress up?"

"Because I am and I refuse to do it alone. Come on, be a girl and wear a dress."

Wraith was definitely not the type of woman who needed emotional support or community confidence in order to do something. She was probably the one person here I could confidently say didn't care at all what anyone might think of her. But she was clearly trying to swindle me into this. And I didn't have the heart to fight her on it.

With a sigh, I turned back toward the hall. "The black one's cute. But the purple one's cuter."

"Is that a yes?" A sly little smile curved her lips.

I waved her off. "I'll be your emotional support, Wraith, don't worry." Then I stepped back into the hall.

"Thank you!" Her raspy voice called after me.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." I feigned annoyance.

Truthfully, I didn't mind that she was trying to get me to look nice for the not-birthday party. I just didn't want the attention primarily on me. This was one way of ensuring that.

And I wouldn't admit it, but I liked wearing dresses sometimes. It reminded me of my dance days. Sure, I couldn't compete anymore. But I think Jill was right. I didn't have to let go of it altogether.

I laughed to myself, shutting the bedroom door. Maybe all of them were right in their own way.

Kendra

September 25, 2005 — Sunday

The helicopter rotors were deafening, sending a torrent of cold ocean air spiraling in all directions. The landing pad was lit with nothing but the floodlight and the helicopter's landing lights.

The four of us—Owen, Jill, Leon, and I—waited patiently at a safe distance for the soldiers to unload. Even in the darkness, I could recognize Piers' side profile. He sat nearest the open door, blocking most of my view of the cabin. From what little I could see, there were only four people aboard. Piers, the pilot, and two others.

"Think we got enough hammocks?" Owen yelled to Jill over the sound of the blades beating the air.

"We got sleeping bags." She grinned.

I wondered if there was room for four more bodies in the main living quarters.

The blades slowed and the engine gradually came to a humming stop. Piers stepped off first, looking out of place without a gun in his hand. For the first time, he welcomed us with a soft smile, extending his hand to Owen first.

"Captain Fields. Thank you for allowing us to land."

Owen scoffed, shaking his hand roughly. "We're practically friends."

Piers smirked. "I tried to bring as few people as possible." He looked over his shoulder and the other two men stepped onto the ship. They looked vaguely familiar. Likely the men from Myrtle Beach.

He nodded to the first one—a sandy haired man. "This is one of my operators, Mike Harper."

Harper gave us a stiff nod, but said nothing.

Piers looked to the other man, a Hispanic gentleman. "And this is my flight engineer, Jose Lopez."

Lopez grinned, extending a hand to Owen. "Pleasure."

Little by little, the deck returned to a normal volume, the helicopter finally almost completely still.

Suddenly, all three of them looked to Leon and me. Piers reached for his pocket, Velcro tearing before he pulled out two envelopes. I expected him to speak about the letters first. Instead, he smiled at us.

"Good to see you two are still alive."

"It's only been three days." Leon practically rolled his eyes.

"Two." Piers corrected.

"Case in point." Leon tried to hide his smirk and failed. His eyes flicked to the envelopes. "I'm guessing those are for us."

"You don't waste any time." He sighed, handing them over without argument. "Messages. From President Graham."

Leon looked over both briefly before handing one to me. The moment it was in my hand, I noticed the golden seal that ensured it hadn't been tampered with. The envelope itself was made from expensive paper—thick and textured. Enough to keep the letter inside safe from the elements. On the front, in perfectly cursive print, was my name.

Kendra Mason

My stomach turned. Up until now, the President of the United States had been nothing but a background player in the chaos that was my life. Pulling strings from behind closed doors. He knew of me, but he had never addressed me. And now, both me and Leon had received letters from Graham that had been personally delivered by the U.S. Army.

Whatever was in this envelope couldn't be good. Nothing ever was when it came to the politics of this nightmare.

I peeked over at Leon, gauging his reaction to his own envelope. He had stiffened, eyes staring down at it like it might turn into something that would bite. A muscle in his jaw tightened.

"You should read those tomorrow." Piers said gently. "Seems like you guys are having a nice night," his eyes went to the fire pit, "business can resume in the morning."

There was no doubt in my mind that Piers knew exactly what was in the letters.

"That's actually not the only reason we're here." He continued. "We had someone reach out to us recently. He says he knows you. Asked if he could come along. I had to pull some strings, but eventually, Graham agreed."

Leon bristled, stepping a bit closer to me.

"Don't worry." Piers didn't look at Leon when he said it. He looked at me. "I personally cleared him." A pause. "And he's unarmed."

Movement from the helicopter caught my attention. My gaze snapped back to the door, ice spreading down my spine. There were very few people I cared about that were still alive. And far too many people that were actively hunting me.

I didn't know what to expect. Was it someone that would drag me back to the states? Someone with orders? Questions? Information? Those were the only reasons I could imagine for someone to use the army to chase me across the Atlantic.

The pilot stepped into the floodlight, removing his flight helmet.

Dark skin. Coily hair.

For a second, my mind refused to make sense of what I was seeing. Because this wasn't possible. He was supposed to exist somewhere far away. In another country. In another chapter of my life.

Not here. Not after everything.

He grinned, tucking his helmet under his arm. "Hey, Kens."

My heart stuttered.

"Avery." I breathed his name. The letter slipped from my fingers, forgotten as I stumbled forward.

Avery opened his arms wide. "God damn, it's so good to see you."

Something inside me cracked open. I laughed. A real laugh. Bright and startled and unfamiliar to my own ears.

I barely remembered crossing the deck. One second I was standing beside Leon. The next, I was throwing myself into Avery's arms with enough force to nearly knock us both backward.

"Oh my God, Avery." His name fell from my lips in a laugh.

He swallowed me in a hug, lifting me from the ground and spinning me once. His own laugh rumbled against my ear.

When he set me down, I didn't let go. My fingers tightened in the fabric of his jacket. And suddenly, I couldn't breathe. The laughter vanished. Something deep inside me gave way all at once.

I folded against him, sobs tearing out of me so violently my knees buckled. He caught me before I hit the deck.

"Hey, hey." His hand smoothed over my hair. "I got you. You're okay. I got you."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck. "Angela's gone." The words shattered coming out of me. "She died."

His arms tightened around me immediately. "I know," he whispered. "I know, Kens."

This was the first time I had cried for her. The first time I let myself grieve the loss of my friend. I could hardly understand why I was allowing myself to now. I knew everyone was watching. I knew none of them had seen me cry before. I was careful not to.

But this was Avery. My friend. The pilot who saved my life. And the last time I saw him, I had been desperately holding pressure. Keeping him alive too. I wasn't allowed to visit him. Wasn't allowed to see with my own eyes that he had survived. For months, I had lived with a brief report from Angela about his status. He was stable. He survived. That was it.

Avery knew me before Portugal. Before Moroe. Before the virus. Before I became an asset and a witness and a problem for governments to solve.

With him, I didn't have to explain who I'd lost. He already knew.

And now he was here. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't mourning alone.

He gave me another squeeze before drawing back, hands planted firmly on my shoulders. "I brought you something."

I wiped at my cheeks, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. "What is it?"

"Well, I was packing up Angela's office after her funeral." He explained, turning back toward the helicopter. Leaning through the door, he bent down and pulled a box from the floor of the aircraft. He heaved it into his arms and turned back toward me.

"I found this box with your name on it."

My brows twitched. "My name?" The words still came out watery despite how hard I tried to steady my voice.

He pressed it into my arms. "You'll want to see what's in it."

With a breath, I set it on the deck and dropped to my knees, pulling off the cardboard top and discarding it. At first, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. I had expected files. Documents. Employee reviews or anything that might have related to her being my employer.

Instead, it was filled with canvases. I reached inside, snagging the first one I could get free and turning it into the floodlight.

I didn't recognize this painting. I did, however, recognize what it was supposed to be. A frog sitting on top of a mailbox. With my childhood home in the background.

My eye found the signature—and my breath caught.

Hayden Mason.

"Why—" a knot formed in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Why does she have this?"

Avery knelt beside me, reaching into the box and pulling a piece of paper from the side. "I found this. From his university."

I snagged it from him, skimming the letter. It was the art department. Explaining that they were trying to find Hayden's next of kin—to return his paintings from the art show to his family—but couldn't get in contact with me. They reached out to my employer, hoping to get updated contact information. I could fill in the missing pieces on my own. I knew Angela well enough to conclude that she had picked up his paintings. Likely promising that she would get them to me.

I checked the date on the letter. August 15, 2005.

That was the day that Leon had been shot. I remembered it clearly. Which corroborated their reasoning. They would have had no way to reach me. My phone was off. Laptop confiscated. At that point, I had vanished from the rest of the world. Only Leon and Ingrid knew where I was.

Angela had kept her promise anyway.

I took a deep breath, willing the tears away, and turned the painting over. Hayden's handwriting was scrawled across the back of the canvas in black sharpie.

Blythe house. Gandalf the frog. Kendra's biggest enemy.

A watery laugh bubbled out of me, fingers brushing over the handwriting. Wishing that I could feel him there. Knowing I couldn't.

That damn frog peed on me four times. And Hayden thought it was the funniest thing in the world because it never peed on him. In the mornings, we would wait for the bus at the end of the property and a frog would always be sitting under the mailbox. He swore up and down it was always the same one. Always Gandalf. Even when I tried to explain that there was no way it was always the same frog. He never believed me.

Something tightened in my chest. A brutal ache.

He had submitted this painting to his art show. The one he invited me to. He wanted me to see it. We were supposed to go together. But Delacroix took him from me before we could.

Gently, I set the painting back inside the box, fumbling for the lid. Unable to do this right now. I could wait. Wait for later.

Someone crouched in front of me, grabbing the lid and tenderly putting it in my shaking hand. I glanced up—and found Leon, more reverent than usual.

I held my breath, afraid that if I let myself breathe, I might break down again. If I did, I wasn't sure I'd be able to compose myself this time.

Quickly, I fit the lid back on top of the box and closed my eyes.

How beautiful a thing the art show must have been. Stolen from me. Never meant to be mine. Like stars keeping their distance. A little piece of happiness I would never have.

I wanted the paintings to be enough. God I wanted them to. But they weren't the same. I wanted Hayden. I wanted him to laugh when he saw how irritated his little painting note would make me. I wanted to hear his stupid voice. Wanted to see him do that stupid dance he did when he was excited. And I wanted him to hug me, even though he knew I hated hugs. Wishing I hadn't been so annoying and stubborn. Wishing I had hugged him back more.

But all I had were these fucking paintings.

As if Leon knew what I needed, he grabbed the box and got to his feet. "I'll put this by your bunk. Yeah?"

I nodded, pushing to my feet and forcing a smile. "Yeah. Thank you."

As he turned for the lower deck, I looked to Avery. "So, what, you're army now?"

Piers scoffed before Avery could. "No. He's still contracted with your agency." If I didn't know any better, I might have sensed contempt in his tone.

Avery gave him an annoyed look. "The Army General tried it. I told him no." His gaze returned to me. "Going through Angela's files, I found out she'd been working with the Army. Took me a while to realize she wasn't feeding them information. She was using them to protect you."

For a moment, he held Piers' gaze. Something unspoken passed between them before he looked back at me. "For the life of me, I couldn't figure out where the hell you were. She was really careful not to put that in writing. That knowledge died with her. So, I reached out to the army hoping they could tell me."

Piers shifted on his feet. "That was when I got the call."

"You?" My brows flew up in surprise.

He nodded. "I'm the field leader for the rapid response unit assigned to this outbreak. Any intelligence connected to the virus gets routed through me."

Avery hummed. "I asked if they could get me in contact with you. Piers here had another idea. He needed to deliver a message from President Graham. He knew I was a pilot. So we made a deal. I fly him out here, and he makes sure I get you back in my line of sight."

Familiar footsteps echoed behind me. I hardly reacted when Leon reappeared beside me, stopping close enough that his shoulder brushed mine.

"Well, it's good to see you." I smiled at Avery.

"Likewise." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Now. We've had a very long flight." He looked to Owen and Jill. "Do you have some dinner to spare?"

Piers almost laughed. "Glad you said it."

Owen gave them his usual warm smile. "I'll show you to the kitchen."

They disappeared below deck, but Leon led me back to the fire. Before we rejoined the crew, his hand brushed my lower back and he dipped down low enough that his lips grazed my ear.

"You okay?"

I gave him the same weak smile I'd offered everyone else. The one that meant don't worry about me. "Yeah. Thanks."

His voice dropped impossibly lower. "You sure?"

I leaned closer to him. "Don't go anywhere tonight."

A quiet breath warmed my cheek. "Yes, ma'am."

~ ~ ~

It must have been ten o' clock at night by now. The men laughed around the fire, keeping the conversation light. Piers' men enjoyed a single beer each, but neither Avery nor Piers had a drop of alcohol.

The two new men seemed nice enough. They didn't ignore me, but they didn't go out of their way to interact with me either. Lopez was more likely to engage with me. Harper, on the other hand, was a quiet man. Even when Piers and Lopez spoke to him, he had very little to say.

I hardly gave any attention to them. Sandwiched between Avery and Leon, I had plenty enough interaction. Both of them did a great job lifting my spirits. Keeping to topics that didn't sting.

Tipping my second glass of hot cider to my lips, I let the liquid warm me and tucked my feet under myself. "So, did your wife have the baby?" I asked Avery.

A goofy grin split his lips and he reached into his pocket, producing a wallet and immediately flipping it open. He snagged the photograph inside and passed it to me.

"Born July twenty-seventh. Six pounds, nine ounces. My little girl, Olivia."

"Awww," I held it closer to my face, trying to get a better look at the small bundle in his wife's arms. Avery stood beside her, the both of them grinning from ear to ear. "She's so small."

Leon leaned into me, looking over my shoulder to get a better look. I passed him a glance, catching the small smirk that lifted the corner of his lips.

Avery nodded. "Littlest baby I ever saw. But she's a little monster. Never stops eating and never stops growing. She's a chunk now."

I giggled at that. "How's dad life treating you?"

"She's the best thing that ever happened to me. But I'm exhausted."

"Can't imagine how tired Antoinette is." I gave him a pointed look.

"We have a good system." He defended himself. "Switch off every night. Every other night, I stay up with her. She's colicky, so she barely sleeps."

"Lay her over ya arm." Owen interjected. "On her tummy. It helps."

Avery tilted his head, smiling back at the Captain. "You have kids?"

"They're grown now." He nodded. "But my first born had colic."

With a light laugh, Avery finished his cider and placed the glass inside the chair's drink-holder. "I'll have to remember that." Then, he pushed out of the chair, stretching as he straightened to his full height. "Anyway, I'm running on fumes. Is there somewhere I can sleep?"

Owen stood up, followed by Piers, Lopez, and Harper.

"I'll show you to the living quarters."

Avery gave me a quick hug, mumbling a quiet goodnight before turning after the Captain. The five of them headed for the stairs.

"We only have two more hammocks." Jill reminded him. "The others will have to settle for sleeping bags."

"Dibs on the hammock." Avery grinned.

"You can't call dibs." Piers rolled his eyes.

Avery opened his arms wide. "Just did."

They bickered all the way down the stairs, leaving me alone with the crew I had grown accustomed to.

A frigid breeze dusted the deck, curling down the back of my neck. I shivered, curling into myself further.

Leon noticed. He shifted in front of me, grabbing the collar of the jacket and buttoning it. It was instantly tighter around my throat, refusing the cold entry.

Lex, who was now clearly drunk, watched from the other side of the fire. "You're always fussing over her."

"Lex, leave it alone." Jill warned him.

"What? We're all thinking it."

"Yeah?" Leon looked up at him. "I always think how much of an ass you are. I usually keep it to myself, though."

Lex snorted, swallowing another sip from his flask and making a face at the burn of the alcohol. "I'm just saying. You treat her like she's made of glass."

"I don't need you to speak for me." I snapped at him. "If I have a problem, I'll tell Leon myself."

I expected him to back down like he always did when I got upset. Instead, he laughed. "Right. Can't blame you. All the attention must feel nice."

"Lex!" Jill snapped. "I think it's about time you went to bed."

"Oh come on," he argued, "It's just an observation."

"Kendra's had a hard time lately. She doesn't need you having a go at her." Jill fixed him with a stern look.

"We've all had a hard time lately. She's not special."

"Why can't you be more like Bishop when you drink?" She shook her head, clearly exasperated with this.

Lex swirled the contents of his drink absently, staring at the flask like it was actually interesting. "Yeah, well, Bishop's young. He drinks for fun. Some of us like to have a drink just so we can forget for a few hours."

I should have been offended by his remark. Instead, I tilted my head at him, studying him for the first time since we met. He had always been an enigma. Warm and kind one moment; abrasive and callous the next. It always depended on the situation. Whether he was consoling the wounded or doing what was necessary to keep someone alive. That's always what it seemed like, at least. The man could flip faster than a switch.

If he truly drank to forget, it made me wonder what exactly he was trying to keep himself from remembering. Junie? Whoever that was.

"So, you're a sad drunk, then." Leon remarked from beside me, keeping his tone antagonistic.

"Can't be sad if I don't remember what I'm supposed to be crying about." He lifted the flask to Leon, as if toasting him.

Suddenly, his gaze snapped to me. "You get it. Yeah?"

I shifted closer to Leon, pressing my leg against his. Wishing I had sat on his other side—further away from Lex. "Get what?"

"Forgetting." He took another swig, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "I mean, you? You've seen some shit. I've always been the one saving lives. Or trying to, at least. Can't say I've been through what you have."

I winced at the bitterness in his tone. "No point comparing it. Medics carry their own trauma. Losing patients? It's not a lesser pain."

Lex leaned closer. "Don't bullshit me."

He's just drunk, I reminded myself. "I'm not."

Leon stiffened, his gaze finding Lex. "If you know what's good for you, you'll back off."

Lex stupidly ignored him, fixing his gaze on me. "Can I ask you something?"

I reached for the necklace at my throat, holding onto it like it was a life raft. "I guess."

"No, you can't." Leon's tone was a warning.

Lex continued like he didn't hear. "Well, I have a lot of things to ask you." He looked to the stars above us. "Haven't always had the courage to say it, though."

I remained silent, refusing to take my eyes off of him.

"Do you drink?" He asked without looking at me.

"Not really."

"You a sad drunk?"

I blew out a breath. "I get very... giggly. But the things I say aren't always funny."

"So... no. You're a happy drunk." Hazel eyes turned back on me. Orange fire light lit up his face, casting stark shadows under his brow. "I've seen a lot of people die. A lot of friends. People I wanted to save." He looked down at his hands. "People I couldn't."

I tried to relax. There was still a chance I could manage this. Reach an understanding with him. Though, Leon and Jill looked uneasy, gauging the conversation with extreme carefulness.

"You don't have an easy job." I said gently. "I know I couldn't do what you do. You have to be a strong person to deal with that."

His attention flicked back to me. "Did you watch your brother die?"

I could have looked away. Could have broken down at the question like I wanted to. But this moment wasn't about me.

"He was already gone by the time I got to the house." The words came out empty. Every drop of emotion absent.

"Did you do CPR?"

"I did."

"So you know. What that feels like."

"To do CPR?"

"To fail."

I inhaled. Deep enough that my chest hurt. My eyes found the flames, watching them dance—irreverent and oblivious to the world around them.

I could tell the truth. I could tell everyone here exactly what happened. But this moment right now wasn't for the truth. This moment belonged to Lex. Not me. And the truth about that day would not comfort him.

"I think, when it comes to doing what you do, the only thing that counts as a failure is negligence. You can do everything right. But people will still die. That doesn't mean you failed. That just means that some wounds are beyond fixing."

He snorted at that. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Leon handed me a s'more I hadn't realized he'd put together. "Would you like her to make you feel worse?" His irritation was unmistakable.

"She does that pretty well without speaking." Lex muttered.

I recoiled. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

He gave me a mirthless smile. "Come on, Kendra. Don't play coy. You've spent the last week hating me because of what I had to do."

"I don't—" a frustrated breath, "I don't hate you."

"Well you shouldn't." The words came out sharp and defensive. "I did everything the way I was supposed to. I followed protocol. I refused to run those unnecessary tests even when you were being shitty to me. And it's not like you ever apologized."

"You want an apology?" I tried to keep my tone cool.

He threw his hand up. "You basically told me I'm an evil monster who just wants to perform experiments on you. That was never true. I told you over and over I didn't want to run those tests. You didn't believe me." He exhaled. "I do this job because I want to help people. And you basically screamed at me to hurt you."

Leon straightened. "You're whining about her not trusting you? It's not exactly her fault. Or do you not remember what happened to her fourteen days ago?"

"Of course I remember what happened to her. I've been understanding of that." Lex tossed the flask onto the empty chair beside him. "But god, when is she going to admit that I'm not the bad guy? She reached out to the BSAA on her own. She told us she was immune. Creating a vaccine was her idea. The only reason I was put on this ship was because Redfield trusted me to do exactly what Kendra proposed. And now I'm the evil bastard for it?"

Leon opened his mouth to argue.

I held up a hand, stopping him. He clamped his mouth shut.

Swallowing, I gave Lex a subtle nod. "You're right. I haven't been fair to you. I've been cruel. I'm sorry." My voice softened with sincerity. "I let my own hurt cloud my judgment of you. You didn't deserve that."

Lex drew back, momentarily dumbstruck. Then he laughed. "Do you always just give in like that? Without a fight?"

"Lex." Leon and Jill warned at the same time.

I raised a brow. "I wasn't yielding. And I'm not fighting with you either. You've said and done things that hurt me. And yes, I was wrong to accuse you. But that doesn't undo what you did."

He laughed, like this was exactly what he wanted. "And what exactly have I done to you? Tended to your wounds? Developed a vaccine you asked for?"

"Your lack of trust in me and Leon almost killed me. Your refusal to listen. You want to talk about trust? Let's start with you and this entire crew believing I had helped Verissimo. Forcing me to recount my trauma in detail. Antagonizing me and Leon."

He laughed at me. "Well, whether it was intentional or not, you did help Verissimo."

The words felt like a slap to the face. A confirmation of exactly what I had feared since he found out Verissimo was my uncle.

They blamed me for this.

"You should take a walk." Leon intervened, his voice low. A warning.

Lex got to his feet, but he didn't leave. "Oh come on. She's so good at taking responsibility. So let's hear it now. Stop playing the victim for a moment, Kendra."

Leon got to his feet, stepping in between me and Lex. "That's enough."

Lex ignored him, looking right past him at me. "That's why you've been like this, right? You can't let yourself feel that guilt."

"She was a child." Leon argued.

"I'm not talking about that." He laughed. "It's been four months, Kennedy. Why the hell did it take her so long to get that evidence to someone? Because she was scared?" Another bitter laugh. "If she hadn't taken so long to turn it over, this could have been handled before the virus was unleashed on the public."

"She was being actively hunted." Leon sounded incredulous. Like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"There was at least a week between her return to the states and her family's deaths.” He got louder, tone harsher. “If she had gotten on a plane and come to the BSAA immediately, none of this would be happening."

Emotion knotted my throat. "I was scared. I didn't—I didn't know who to trust. I did the best I could."

"Your best is useless!" He gestured vaguely. "You hesitated. And if you hadn't; your family, those civilians, my friends? They would still be here."

He threw his arms down, eyes full of anger—waiting for a response. Waiting for me to either deny it or take the blame.

Hot tears burned my eyes, blurring his features.

"You're a mean drunk." The words came out far softer than I had meant them to.

He startled at that.

The entire deck went silent, filled with nothing but the crackling of the fire. For a moment, no one moved. Not even Lex.

Then he scrubbed a hand over his face, turning his back on me.

"Christ." He mumbled, almost to himself.

Something far more complicated took over. Without warning, he snatched the flask from the chair, turned toward the guard rail—and hurled it into the ocean.

We all watched as the darkness swallowed it.

Lex kept his back to me, shoulders heaving with labored breaths.

"You owe her an apology." Leon said. Deceptively calm.

The medic looked over his shoulder, his eyes finding nothing in particular. "Yeah. I do."

We waited.

And Lex walked away without another word, disappearing through the door into the superstructure. It slammed behind him and I flinched.

Leon turned back around to face me, his gaze hardening the moment a tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away quickly, sniffing and looking away.

Bishop, who had been unusually quiet, pushed away from the railing, his voice soft and kind. "He didn't mean that."

I nodded. "I know."

"None of this is your fault." He added.

"I know." I whispered.

Rook slowly wandered closer, standing just beside Bishop. "He's lashing out. We'll talk to him."

I looked up, meeting Rook's eye. "So who was it?"

His brow twitched. "What?"

"He said his friends were killed. Because of me. Who was it?"

Rook lowered himself into a chair. "It wasn't because of you."

"Who?" I pressed harder.

No one would look at me. Frustrated, I looked around at all of them. Trying to pick the weakest one. The one that would tell me whatever it was they were hiding from me.

"Was it Junie?" I finally asked.

Rook stiffened briefly, then he exhaled. It was sharp and defeated. "We weren't always a small crew. There used to be ten of us."

Finally. "What happened?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "The ship was attacked. A few days after we set sail. There was a breach in security. Someone got into the BSAA server. Leaked the email transcripts between Redfield and Fields."

"Was it Verissimo?"

"It was his men. His virus. We managed to call in reinforcements. But... we lost two of our people before they got here."

I set my jaw. "Lex was close with them?"

Rook sighed. "Lex is close with all of us. You know? We've been a team for a while." He paused. “But Junie… Junie was like our little sister. And Bailey could be annoying, but he was still one of us.”

“Lex knew Bailey was gone. There was nothing he could do.” Mouse spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours. “He tried to save Junie. He did everything he could. We all know that. But… he struggles with losing her. It’s made him mean. He never used to be like that.”

I looked away. "So Junie and Bailey. They were your friends too?"

"Yeah. But..." Rook wrung his hands. "Look, what happened? It would have happened either way. He's been working on this virus for a long time. Whether you got on a plane or not—nothing was going to stop him."

My thumb found my other hand, roughly rubbing the center of my palm. "Why didn't anyone say anything?"

Rook leaned forward, holding my gaze. "It's not your guilt to carry."

I laughed. It wasn't amused. And it definitely wasn’t relief. It was heavy and sad.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Why there were two empty bunks. Why the crew heard I was an operative and lost trust in me. Why Jill and Lex spent that first day interrogating me. They knew I was capable of breaching their servers. Knew I had been a double agent before. I was the outlier. The unknown. The person who had reached out for help... and slapped them in the face when they did exactly what I had asked them to do.

Suddenly, I understood why Lex was so unpredictable. Why he swung between warmth and coldness. He was trying to hold everyone together. But he could barely hold himself together. Carrying not just my survival, but his friends' survival on his shoulders. Carrying the weight of loss. Of failure. Of that crippling grief that I was all too familiar with.

My elbows found my knees and I folded forward, pressing my palms into my eyes. Trying to force the tears away.

"Dammit." I whispered, voice trembling. And then the dam broke, a sob slipping out. "Dammit dammit dammit."

Leon sighed, stepping closer to me. "Come on. It's late. You should get some sleep."

"It's past curfew anyway." Jill added, voice rougher than usual. "We should all go to bed."

Rook and Bishop retreated first. Footsteps from a few others outside of the fire pit headed for the bunks as well. I stayed put, needing all of them to be gone before I faced the world again.

"Kendra." Jill sounded as though she might be trying to chastise me. At least, at first. But I heard the shift of fabric as she crouched in front of me. "I want you to listen to me."

I sniffed, wiping away the tears and forcing myself to look at her.

"Lex was out of line. I know it. He knows it. And you know it." She rested her forearms on her knees. "Don't let some angry drunk get to you like that."

I drew in a deep breath, but couldn't bring myself to respond. So, I nodded.

She gave me a crooked smile. "The next time he talks to you like that, I want you to punch him right in the face. Don't let people treat you like that."

"He's not gonna talk to her like that again." Leon mumbled.

Jill made a face. "Leon can't protect you for the rest of your life. At some point, you need to stand up for yourself. So, it starts now. Got it?"

Leon looked away, jaw tightening, but he let it go.

I held her gaze. Knowing she wasn't scolding me... even if it sounded like it.

"Okay." I sniffed.

She nodded. "Okay. Now get to bed."

Without another word, I got to my feet and obeyed. Leon followed behind me.

~ ~ ~

Leon

The crew mumbled goodnight to us as we passed through the main living quarters. There were extra bodies to step over tonight. Including Harbor, who was cuddled up with Piers. Still, we eventually found our way to the officer's quarters.

Kendra entered the room slowly, drifting toward the desk. Her fingers traced the letters I'd set aside for us.

With practiced quiet, I shut the door, shrugging off my jacket. "Are you okay?"

She said nothing. Her face lifted to the ceiling, eyes closed.

I returned my jacket to the wardrobe. Waiting for her to say something. Counting in my head when the seconds seemed to last too long.

She stayed beside the desk, scooting the chair away with her foot. An absent gesture. It seemed to be in her way, because her focus dropped to the paper cranes.

Her fingers closed around the wing of one, setting it on top of the letters like it might keep them in place. Like it might prevent us from reading them.

I eased into the chair she pushed aside. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to say," she whispered.

"Seems like there's plenty to think about, though." I kept my voice gentle, careful not to let concern sound like accusation.

"You already know everything I'm thinking."

"Mind reading's an imperfect art." I offered her a small smile. "Sometimes I get it wrong."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "I thought you were always right?"

An amused breath escaped me. "Funny."

That was met with an empty nod. Her knuckles found a restless rhythm against the desk.

"I'm tired." The words scraped out of her, weak and defeated.

I didn't have to ask what she meant. "What can I do?"

A small sound slipped out of her. Almost a whimper. She dragged a hand through her curls. "I don't know. Nothing."

Without warning, she turned away from the desk and crossed the room. Both palms pressed against the bulkhead, forehead resting against the cold steel.

"I just wanted to do the right thing."

"You did."

She exhaled, knocking her head lightly against the wall. "No. I took too long. I was scared. And I let it affect everything."

"You were cautious. It's why you're still alive."

"At the cost of everyone else." She laughed bitterly.

Suddenly, she shook her head. Like she was banishing a thought. "I don't want to be here. I want to go home." A tiny sob slipped out of her. "And I know that sounds childish and ridiculous but I just—I just—I want to go home."

I was on my feet before she finished speaking, crossing the room without thinking. "That's not childish. I think anyone in your position would want the exact same thing."

"No, you see, because it is." She turned sharply, suddenly furious. Not at me, but angry either way. "It is ridiculous. Because Hayden is dead and it's my fault. That's my fault."

Her voice broke. "I don't have a home to go back to."

She waved a flippant hand toward the box by the bunk. "But thank God I have these paintings, right? I should be grateful. But I'm not. I don't want the paintings. I don't want the candle. It's not the same."

I reached for her. "Kendra—"

She stepped out of my reach.

"I just want my brother back." An awful sound scraped out of her chest, her voice becoming shrill. "I want him back so much that I wish I'd done nothing." Her breathing hitched. "I know that makes me a bad person. But I don't want to be noble or honorable. If I could go back and stop myself, I would. I would."

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "And people would die because of it, and that makes me a monster."

Her hands flew up, exasperated. "But I came from selfish people. Maybe that's who I am. Maybe things would be different if I stopped pretending to be a good person."

She dropped her face into her hands, rubbing roughly at her skin. "All of this was for what? Because I thought I could save people?" An incredulous watery laugh. "I can't save anyone. Giving my body is the least I could do for the mess I made. I deserve it."

Nausea churned my stomach at her words.

I was all too familiar with what she was doing. I'd done it too. Over and over again. Turning every loss into evidence. Every failure into proof. Building a case against myself until guilt felt more honest than grief.

"Kendra." My voice came quiet and steady. "You want something you can't have. That doesn't make you a bad person."

I took a cautious step closer, and this time she didn't pull away. Her shoulders sagged, a defeated cry waning from her lips.

"Good people have terrible thoughts when they're in pain." I murmured. "They imagine impossible choices. They wish they could change things they can't."

Her head fell back, an awful sob hiccuping out of her.

Gently, I set my hands on her shoulders, smoothing down the fabric of her shirt absently. "Look, I get it. What you're feeling right now? You never wanted anyone to get hurt. And you think you're the only one who could have stopped it." I shook my head. "But that's not true."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Punishing yourself because you think you failed won't make you feel better." I brushed my thumb across her shoulder. "It won't bring Hayden back. It won't save anyone."

Her eyes found anything but me. The ceiling. The ground. The door.

"I know what you're doing." I said gently. "I've done it too."

That finally made her look at me.

"You think if you hurt enough or sacrifice enough, maybe someday, you'll have paid for it. But this grief and this guilt isn't..." I let out a breath. "It's not a debt that you can repay."

Her brows furrowed, tears staining her cheeks. "I don't know what else to do." Her voice cracked. "Tell me what to do."

I gently held her face in my hands, ensuring her eyes stayed on me. "You're doing enough already."

"No." She shook her head, dissolving into a sob. "I'm not."

I gathered her into my arms, tucking her against my chest. "You are."

She buried her face into my neck, muffled protests warming my skin. She didn't believe me.

There had to be something I could say. Something I could do to make her understand. But all logic abandoned me. I felt helpless. Grief wasn't something I could fight. I couldn't reason with it or protect her from it. And I was never good at saying the right thing.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I guided her toward the bunk and folded her against me, my hand moving in slow, steady strokes over her back.

She crawled into my lap, sobbing into my skin, finally unafraid to let me see her fall apart. To see her vulnerable. Trembling and exhausted.

My arm tightened around her waist, while my other hand moved to remove her shoes. Discarding them carelessly. I focused on her jacket next, easing her arms from the sleeves and tossing it over the back of the chair. Then I turned her toward the wall, gently laying her on the mattress.

Each sob tore out harder than the last, fingers clinging to the fabric of my shirt like she was afraid I might leave.

I wouldn't. Not now. Not when she was like this. So, I kicked off my boots and lowered myself beside her, curling around her body like I might be able to protect her from this.

Part of me wished I could hide her from all of it.

They had their vaccine. We knew it worked. That was all they needed from her. Anything more felt like curiosity. Politics. Government greed disguised as necessity.

If we weren't trapped on this ship, I think I would've done it. I would've picked her up and left. Taken her somewhere else.

I didn't know where. I just knew delivering her to a room full of scientists felt wrong now.

As I held her, trying to soothe her to sleep, I found myself wondering if I could convince Avery to come back without the Army. To take her somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere so far off the map that even I wouldn't know where she was. That way, if they ever tried to force the information out of me, there'd be nothing for them to find.

I didn't want to be apart from her. But as long as she was with me, she would never be safe. And if letting her go was the only way to protect her, I'd do it. Even if it meant never seeing her again.

Still, I wondered if she'd ever agree to it. The guilt inside her ran deep. Too deep for me to reach. She wouldn't run. Not again. Even when she knew she would suffer. She wouldn't run.

Kendra remained rooted to me, until her cries faded and her breathing steadied. She didn't move away. After a long while, that nearly silent snore met my ears.

It was impossible to follow her into sleep. I lied awake all night, holding onto her. Thinking about Graham’s letters. About the BSAA. Going over a million scenarios in my head that might change how this ends.

Holding onto her a little tighter.

~ ~ ~

September 26, 2005 — Monday

When morning came, Kendra was different than she had been the last few days. She forced herself out of bed early. Showered before the rest of the ship woke up. Returned to the room and sat at the desk, hunched over a notebook.

Today, she didn’t wallow in sadness like she had yesterday or the day before. Today, she put the mask back on. She smiled at me. Joked with me. Pretended like nothing had happened at all.

The pretending was worse than the break down. At least when she was falling apart last night, it had been honest. For a few hours, she’d stopped carrying everything by herself. I’d finally caught a glimpse of what she’d been holding back for months.

And now it was gone again.

Worse, it felt terrifyingly familiar. This was the Kendra I’d come to know. Capable. Composed. Funny. Untouchable.

Maybe this was who she was. Or maybe I’d only convinced myself the woman who cried herself to sleep in my arms was the real version of her.

But a part of her was still missing today. And I couldn’t stop wondering which version of her hurt more.

“What time is it?” She asked suddenly, her head still trained downward as her pen scrawled across the paper.

I paused with my task, shoelaces dropping back to the floor as I lifted my watch to my face.

“Almost eight.”

“When do you think everyone will wake up?”

I shrugged, grabbing the laces again and tying my boots. “Probably in seven minutes when Jill gets her ass up and parades down the hall like she does every morning.”

A harsh knock at the door made both of us jump. “I heard that, asshole.”

I stared at the door. “How the hell—”

Kendra snickered. “These walls are thinner than you think.”

“Guess we should be worried.” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, getting to my feet. “Why do you want everyone awake? Feeling social today?”

“I wanted to talk to Avery. We barely got to speak last night.”

I raised a brow. “He was the only one you were talking to. For damn near an hour.”

Finally she lifted her head, looking at me over her shoulder. “Are you… jealous?”

My eyes found the wall instead of her.

The truth was, when she’d thrown herself into his arms last night, I had been. For all of two seconds. Long enough for something ugly and possessive to twist in my chest.

Then she’d started crying, and it vanished. Just like that. Like someone threw a bucket of ice water over my head.

Watching her fall apart in Avery’s arms hadn’t made me jealous. It had hurt. Because for the first time since I’d met her, she’d let someone else carry her grief.

When she’d asked about his wife and daughter later, whatever was left of that feeling disappeared completely.

Still, however brief it had been, it was enough to make me avoid her eyes now.

She hummed, like my silence had told her everything she needed to know. “Avery’s practically my brother. As close to one as I’ll ever have again, at least.”

“I know.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “You know?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Nothing to be jealous about.”

“That’s really convincing.” She deadpanned.

Turning, I rested my back against the door and folded my arms. “What are you doing? Writing a letter?”

It was an obvious topic change, but she indulged me anyway.

“Just… getting some things off my chest.”

“Hm. Therapeutic.” I focused on the porthole, watching the ocean beyond the room.

Her pen dropped, clattering against the desk. “Hey. Do you think… do you think we should open the letters?”

The knot in my stomach cinched tighter. “Now?”

She sighed. “Might as well get it over with.”

My jaw tightened. Almost painfully as I stared at the presidential seal to the left of her notebook. I said nothing when she grabbed the letters. When she turned to hand me mine, I had to force myself to take it.

Still, I watched her open hers first. I expected her to read it immediately. Instead, she looked up at me. “We read them at the same time.”

It left no room for argument. She didn’t want to feel alone while doing this.

Slowly, I slid my index under the lip of the envelope. Swept sideways and tore it open. Pulled out the letter and took my time unfolding it.

We held each other’s gaze. She let out breath—and nodded. Both of our heads went down at the same time.

————————

THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON, DC September 23, 2005 Special Agent Leon S. Kennedy Leon, By now, I imagine you’ve had more than enough of official correspondence, so I’ll keep this brief. First, allow me to express my gratitude. The intelligence you secured and the actions you’ve taken over the last several weeks have undoubtedly saved countless lives. Your commitment to protecting others, even under extraordinary circumstances, reflects the very best of the service you have given this country. I am also aware of the difficult decisions you were forced to make during your operation. After a full review of the evidence provided by the Department of Defense, the Office of the President has determined that the USSTRATCOM personnel involved in the attacks against you and your protected witness acted outside the lawful authority of the United States government and in direct violation of their sworn duties. Evidence confirms that these individuals knowingly collaborated with criminal organizations, participated in unauthorized operations, and attempted to obstruct an active federal investigation for personal gain. Effective immediately, this letter serves as formal notice that you are fully exonerated of any wrongdoing related to the use of lethal force against those individuals. No criminal or administrative action will be pursued. Their actions have been classified as acts of treason against the United States. You acted lawfully, appropriately, and in defense of yourself and others under your protection. Let there be no uncertainty on that matter. With the situation developing overseas, I recognize that your current assignment remains unfinished. However, once your responsibilities in the field have concluded, I am formally requesting your return to active duty on United States soil. Upon the successful transfer of your protected witness into BSAA custody, you are hereby directed to return to the United States immediately and report for debriefing. Your experience, judgment, and leadership will be critical in the weeks and months ahead. More importantly, your country still needs you. For what it’s worth, this request comes not only from the President of the United States, but from someone who considers you a trusted friend. I expect to see you back on American soil as soon as your mission is complete. Stay safe, Leon. Respectfully, Theodore Graham President of the United States

————————

My hand dropped back to my side, mind processing the information. It was exactly what I expected it to be. A presidential order. To come back.

No—not just to come back. To leave her behind. Trust her to the BSAA. Trust Chris to keep her safe.

My gaze found Kendra. She was already watching me.

“What does yours say?” I asked.

She held it out to me. “Want to switch?”

I let out a breath, wishing I could crumple the letter up and throw it into the sea. But the order would still exist even if the letter didn’t.

We traded without a word. For some reason, my stomach twisted harder as I prepared to read hers. Only one other person crossing my mind.

Sherry. What they had done to her. What they were still doing to her. The agreement I had made in hopes of keeping her safe. Failing anyway.

Knowing exactly what was going to be in this letter.

I swallowed the feeling and straightened the paper.

————————

THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON, DC September 23, 2005 Ms. Kendra Mason, I am writing to you regarding the ongoing bioterrorism crisis connected to the V-virus outbreak and the information recently provided to my administration. First, I wish to acknowledge the extraordinary circumstances you have endured in service to your country. The United States government failed to adequately protect you following your disclosure of evidence related to these events. The loss of your family, the repeated attempts on your life, and the burden you have carried since coming forward represent failures across multiple federal departments and agencies. For those failures, I offer my sincere regret. Despite these hardships, your actions have already saved countless lives. I thank you for the vaccination you took part in developing. I have been briefed on the unique biological characteristics associated with your condition, including your demonstrated immunity to the V-virus and your accelerated regenerative capabilities. Medical experts advising my administration believe that further study of your condition may prove essential to developing additional vaccines, treatments, and countermeasures that could save American lives. As a citizen of the United States, I ask you to consider returning home and fulfilling your responsibilities to your fellow citizens during this national emergency. Upon your transfer from BSAA protective custody, I formally request that you submit yourself for scientific evaluation and ongoing study under the supervision of authorized federal medical personnel. Should you agree to this request, you will remain under the protection and custody of the United States government at all times. Appropriate security measures will be implemented to ensure your safety and privacy. Every effort will be made to treat you with dignity and respect throughout this process. I understand that the trust required to accept this request has been deeply damaged. I do not ask this lightly. The decisions before you carry consequences that extend far beyond any one agency or administration. They affect the lives of countless families who now face the same fear and uncertainty that you have already endured. Whatever choice you make, your courage in coming forward will not be forgotten. Respectfully, Theodore Graham President of the United States

————————

I’d never been weak of stomach. I was now. It felt disgusting to even hold the paper in my hands. I handed it back to her quickly. She slowly returned mine.

Kendra turned in the chair to face me completely, resting her chin on the top of the backrest. “So… you have to go back.”

“Not yet.” I reminded her.

She nodded. “What do you think I should do?”

I closed my eyes, tipping my head back against the door. “I can’t make that decision for you.”

Because there wasn’t a right answer. One path led back to a government that had already failed her. The other meant putting her trust in an agency she wasn’t familiar with. One that might just do the exact same thing to her, but farther from home.

And the truth I couldn’t admit, even to myself, was that if she asked me what I wanted, I would’ve told her to run.

She was quiet for a long time. Her fingers latched onto the necklace at her throat, thumb tracing the smooth surface of the shark tooth. The one thing I had given her. She never took it off.

When she finally spoke, her voice was impossibly quiet. “If I go back… do you… do you think they’ll let you visit me?”

No. I didn’t. She’d be hidden away. We would never see each other again.

I stared into those dark brown eyes. Wide and hopeful and afraid.

I didn’t answer.

She frowned, staring down at the letter.

Saying nothing.

Kendra

September 25, 2005 — Sunday

"How long does it take to change?" Leon complained from the hall, his knuckles tapping a rhythm against the bulkhead.

"I didn't like the last pants. They weren't comfortable enough." I pulled the baggy pants over my hips, looking at myself in the small mirror inside the wardrobe. It was hard to visualize if I looked okay inside such a small piece of glass.

"At this point, I think you should just wear the wet pajama pants." He grumbled through the door.

I huffed, angling my head down so I could at least see my shirt. It showed a bit too much cleavage for my liking, so I pulled it up. Still, I couldn't see my legs in the mirror. At the very least, the harem pants I had opted for were infinitely more comfortable than the jeans.

Exasperated, I turned for the door and yanked it open. "How do I look?" I asked, opening my arms.

He stepped back, slightly startled by my sudden appearance, but his gaze washed over me. I didn't miss the slight color that found his cheeks or the way he fought to keep his gaze on my face.

"Great." His voice cracked. He looked away, clearing his throat. "Uh, it's cold, though. You might want a jacket."

My hands found my hips, slightly annoyed that I needed to find another piece of clothing to wear. Still, I turned my back on him and crossed over to the wardrobe. He followed after me this time, clearly fed up with the hall. He stood just over my shoulder—the perfect angle to see his face in the mirror.

I rifled through sweaters and jackets, clicking my tongue with each rejection.

"Why don't you wear the one you had on earlier?" He asked, tilting his head. Our eyes met in the mirror.

"I don't think Princess pink goes with this outfit." I snorted.

"I like the pink." He remarked casually. Like it meant nothing. Then his gaze went to the desk.

"Is that their new home?"

Confused, I followed his eyes to find the dozen or so paper cranes that I had lined up in an orderly fashion. I nodded. "Probably the safest place for them. Wouldn't want them getting wet."

He gave a breathy laugh. "Even if they did, I'm sure Mouse wouldn't mind making you more."

A soft smile betrayed me and I looked at him over my shoulder. "Yeah, but what kind of origami mother would I be if I let his hard work get ruined?"

Exhaling, he mumbled something under his breath.

"Hm?" I turned to face him.

"Nothing." His lips twitched, then he stepped closer.

The scent of him washed over me and I went still as his arm reached past my head. The muscle flexed as he pushed hangers to the side. Some needy part of myself wanted to touch him. To press myself into his chest. Or worse.

He stepped back before I could, pulling a jacket into view. "How about this one?"

I glanced at it once and gave him a teasing look. "That one's not mine."

"Yeah, but none of yours are warm enough." His index finger prodded the opening of the jacket, showing off the inside. "Mine has a wool lining."

"Protecting me from the cold now?" I teased, stepping into the jacket and slipping my arms into the sleeves.

His fingers grazed the back of my neck as he pulled my curls loose from the collar. "The correct response is thank you."

With a downward smile, I turned back around to face him, staying close. Closer than he expected. He went suddenly still.

Pushing onto my toes, I pecked a small kiss to the tip of his nose. "Thank you."

That disarmed him completely. Whatever snarky comeback he had prepared died on his lips.

I stepped away from him, and something flickered in his eyes. Something that almost looked like disappointment. I thought he might reach out for me. Pull me back in. Or maybe even ask me not to go just yet.

Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away, like he couldn't trust himself to keep looking at me.

My gaze returned to the mirror. "You have good taste. I think this might actually go with this outfit."

He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "It's like I said when we met. Every sweater I own is perfectly in style."

I turned on my heel, glancing down at his bare arms. My eyes lingered a little too long, heat rising up the back of my neck. "What jacket are you gonna wear?"

A deep hum made my stomach flip. Again, he reached past me, pinning me between him and the wardrobe. His bicep grazed my ear, and a sudden wave of overwhelming need washed over me. Need to close the distance. Need to touch him. Need for him to touch me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I took a step back, desperate to create space before I did something embarrassing. But my boot caught on the edge of the wardrobe door and I stumbled sideways.

Leon caught me by the waist, tugging my upright before anything disastrous could happen.

"Careful." He murmured.

For a split second, my gaze landed on his lips. Then reality hit, mortified with myself. Only then did I realize my hands were on his chest. I pushed away from him and he released me, watching my every step as I backed away toward the door.

"You know, your eyes work better if you point them in the direction you're walking." The smallest smirk lifted the corner of his lips.

Right. Why was I even staring at him? Shouldn't I be looking away?

My hand closed around the doorknob, opening the door wider. Giving myself something else to look at. The hall. The empty boring hall.

It was significantly less distracting than he was.

The sound of a hanger clicking against the bar almost made me turn around. I kept my feet stubbornly planted toward the hall, pretending to find interest with the jacket pockets as Leon shrugged on a jacket of his own.

Cold steel shocked the tips of my fingers. Grateful for the distraction, I pulled the object into the open.

"Why do you have a knife in here?" I asked, turning it every which way. It was sheathed, but still dangerously big. At least six inches.

He reached over my shoulder, snatching it from my hand. "I think you'd be more surprised if you found any of my clothes without a weapon."

I hummed. "Sometimes I forget you're a walking threat."

"Because you know I would never hurt you." He shrugged. "Everyone else? Fair game."

My gaze fell on his hands. Hands that had been all over me two nights ago. Intrusive memories of us brought my mind to a screeching halt.

Something wildly inappropriate threatened to leave my lips. Something I swallowed down immediately. Heat burned my cheeks and I forced my gaze back on the hall.

"You ready to go upstairs?" I said instead.

"Yeah. Just one more thing." He mumbled.

I kept my back to him, stepping toward the hall. "What's that?"

He said nothing.

My fingers worried the hem of the jacket, finding the zipper and trying to slip the teeth into the slider.

"Kendra."

"Hm?" I tossed a look toward my shoulder, careful not to catch sight of him.

A calloused hand closed around my wrist, gently turning me around. I was like putty in his hands, allowing him to move me. He reached for the jacket, taking the zipper from my grasp and threading it into the slider with ease. I avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes on his chest as he pulled the zipper up.

Silently, he straightened the collar around my throat. My lips parted, meaning to thank him, but words failed me.

Without warning, his fingers caught my chin—and then his lips were on mine.

I kissed him back without hesitation. Giving in so enthusiastically that he laughed against my mouth.

Two steady arms slipped around my waist, anchoring me against him. His thumb brushed the center of my back, the gentlest caress.

Just as my fingers found purchase on his arms, he drew back. Only an inch.

"Sorry," he mumbled softly, breath warming my skin. "I don't—" a breath, "I don't know why I..."

"I do." I said breathlessly, burying my hands in his hair and pulling him down into me. Our lips met again and I stole as many kisses as he would allow me.

He sighed into my mouth, hands finding my hips and fingers digging into my skin. He gave me another kiss. And then a second one. Fevered and full of longing. Two hips pressed against mine, pinning me against the door.

"Fuck," his hold on me tightened, and maybe some part of me was going insane because I could almost feel the battle he was having with himself.

He stepped away so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance, stumbling forward.

"We should go upstairs." He panted, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me.

My fingers brushed my lips, a small tremble betraying me. "Right." I stuttered. "Wouldn't want... anyone to see that." Overwhelmed, I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to shake off whatever this was that lingered in my nervous system.

I turned for the door. Made it only two steps. Something made me turn back around. Abrupt and desperate to know.

"What was that?"

Taken aback, he gestured vaguely. "...a kiss."

My hand found my lips again. Like I could still feel him there. "No. What did it mean?"

He let out a breath. "You want to have this conversation now?"

I turned back around quickly, shaking my head. "No. I don't."

And then I was gone, hurrying down the hall. Refusing to turn back again. His footsteps followed after me, but he said nothing. No argument. No pushing.

I was grateful for that. Whatever honesty he was willing to offer me wasn't something I could hear right now. I wasn't entirely sure why I had even asked.

Maybe I already knew the answer. Maybe we both did.

But with everything else going on, this not-so-complicated relationship I had with him wasn't a priority. People were dying. From a virus that my own family had created. Using data obtained through testing on me. And now, I was the only one who could end this.

Is that why I was doing this? Was I using him to distract myself? Escaping from this nightmare by clinging to whatever bit of relief he could offer me?

We hardly knew each other. Seven weeks. Less than two months. Even though we spent every moment right beside each other, that didn't suddenly make this any less insane.

It was just the proximity. Nothing more. Seven weeks was nothing. This feeling in the pit of my stomach was manufactured. It wasn't real. Couldn't be.

I reached the upper deck in silence, not at all remembering the walk here. The moment I stepped into the floodlight, drunken jeers echoed over the deck, making me jump.

Leon found my side, just as silent as I was.

"There she is!" Bishop yelled, getting up so fast that he stumbled sideways. Rook caught him, smacking him in the back of the head after putting the lieutenant back on two feet.

We crossed over to the crew, noting the folding chairs that had been set up around a metal fire pit. A large flame crackled in the center of the group, large enough that four people could roast marshmallows over the heat.

Bishop grinned widely, a beer in hand as he staggered toward me. Without warning, he wrapped me in a tight hug. "You came!" He slurred.

I laughed awkwardly, patting him on the back. "Yeah. You good?"

He pulled away, nodding. "I am now! We saved you some marshmallows."

From a few feet away, Mouse lifted a plastic bag, proving Bishop correct.

"They were gonna eat all of them." Bishop continued. "But I told them you would be here."

I laughed. "How did you know?"

He shrugged, throwing an arm around my shoulder and guiding me toward the fire. "I could tell you were feeling better."

I didn't respond, but I let him lead me toward a chair. He pushed me down into it, a little more rough than he usually was with me.

Jill kicked him in the thigh. "Careful. She's not one of you idiots."

"It's okay." I assured her, smiling.

Bishop moved to sit next to me, but Leon slid into the chair faster than he could. Without missing a beat, the lieutenant swiveled and sat across from me instead. Unbothered.

I fought hard to keep my attention on the conversation.

Jill shifted in her chair, pulling her marshmallow from the flame. "Everything alright? You look..." she tilted her head at me. "Nervous."

Wiping my hands on my pants, I tried to calm my nerves. "Yeah. It's just... this is... nice."

"The fire?" She smooshed the marshmallow between two crackers.

Belonging. Being wanted.

I couldn't say that, though.

"Being part of the crew." I settled on instead. Even that felt loaded.

Before she could respond, Leon leaned forward. "Are you drinking, too?" He looked to the whiskey glass in her hand.

She snorted. "It's actually just apple juice. I don't drink on the job."

"Only the idiots drink." Lex answered. It was the first thing he'd said around me in almost a day. I almost didn't notice him standing beside the fire.

"Funny." Jill leaned back, examining her s'more. "I consider you one of the idiots."

"You don't drink on the job?" I asked Lex. "Or you don't drink at all?"

Surprise flickered on his face. Like he hadn't expected me to speak to him. It took him a moment to recover.

"Alcohol isn't my friend." He finally answered.

Jill made a sound. "That's an understatement."

Lex glared at her. "You've only seen me drunk once."

"One time too many." She muttered, biting into the cracker.

"Would you like a drink, Miss Kendra?" Mouse asked, lifting a bottle of brandy.

"Do you have any more apple juice?" I asked.

At that, Owen pushed off the bulwark. "I've got somethin' better. How 'bout some hot cider? Keep ya warm."

Wraith snickered, tilting her head back over the guard rail. The ocean breeze caught the long strands of her black hair. "Grab me a glass too, my love?"

The term of endearment was startling. She was clearly intoxicated, but it was the first time I'd heard either of them call the other anything but their callsigns.

Owen gave her a curt nod. "Anythin' for you. Is that all ya want?"

She looked back up at him, a flirtatious little smirk on her lips. "Ask me again at curfew."

I averted my gaze, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on something I shouldn't be watching.

Jill leaned closer to me. "Guess I'm getting the room to myself tonight."

I met her eyes, noticing for the first time that they were blue. I'd been on this ship for a week now. That was the first time she'd spoken to me so casually. Like we were friends. Not an officer and an asset. Friends.

I tried to remain equally as casual. "So, why doesn't Wraith sleep in the Captain's quarters? They're married, aren't they?"

Jill smiled. "I think they both just like to try to keep their job and their marriage separate."

My eyes went to the fire. "So... it's not frowned upon? Personal relationships like that. In the BSAA."

She sank her teeth into the s'more, crumbs falling to the ground. Only after she finished chewing did she give me a shrug. "I think the BSAA has bigger things to worry about."

Bishop leaned forward. "Why? Thinking about joining the BSAA?"

My gaze went to Leon. Briefly. I frowned and reached for the marshmallows, taking one and absently handing it to Leon. Joining the BSAA wasn't something I had considered an option.

Jill grabbed the empty graham cracker box and threw it at the lieutenant. "Don't be a dipshit. Even if she was thinking of joining, she wouldn't be stupid enough to entertain you."

Bishop grinned widely, tossing the box into the fire. "Oh I'm well aware who Kendra would rather entertain."

Leon cleared his throat. "Can I have that?" He pointed to the sleeve of crackers on Jill's lap.

Either oblivious or intentionally stoic, Jill grabbed the crackers and quietly handed them over. Leon reached behind my back, arm grazing my shoulders. The tips of my ears burned at the contact.

"So, why exactly would Kendra join the BSAA?" Rook chimed in. "I mean, no offense," he looked directly at me, "but I don't exactly get the feeling you like us."

I winced at that. "Why would you say that?"

"You spend most of your time as far away from us as possible." Bishop hiccuped.

"Don't take that personally." Leon grumbled, spearing the marshmallow on a stick. "She was like that the first week with me."

Rook hummed. "So, you're usually pretty standoffish."

"What changed?" Bishop cocked his head.

I scratched at my jeans. "He gave me a reason to trust him, I guess."

"You guess?" Jill sounded almost amused.

I rubbed my thumb over my knuckles. "Leon's right. It's nothing personal."

Bishop laughed. "What did he do? To earn your trust?" He put up his hands defensively. "Saved you? Protected you? I think we've done the same. Haven't we?"

"You don't get it." I shook my head. "I trusted Moroe. He was my friend. And he tried to kill me. I lost everything because of him. My family. My home. My freedom. My sense of safety."

I forced myself to stop, steadying my breath. "I can't be so flippant with my trust. I've known you for a week. So no. It's not personal."

Everyone went silent. Even the alcohol wasn't enough to stupefy Bishop now.

Jill turned to me slowly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I leaned back in the chair.

"You've known Leon a little longer than Moroe. But you trust him without question. How can you be sure? That he's not exactly like Moroe?"

I tipped my head back, setting it against the backrest. "I wasn't sure. Not at first."

Leon didn't react to that. Like he already knew the answer.

The stars above me winked in the darkness. Twinkling like the distant suns might actually be staring back.

"I saw my brother die." The words tumbled out of me abruptly. "That man was looking for me. And I ran. I guess that's what I'm good at."

No one dared to interrupt me now.

"So, when Delacroix chased down my car and drove me off the highway... I knew he was going to kill me. I knew why. I was a witness. A spy that had taken something I shouldn't have."

I closed my eyes, remembering the day I first met Leon. That feeling of dread that pooled in my stomach.

"When I woke up under the rubble of a mafia safe house, I was terrified. Because I realized that... if they wanted me dead, I would be. And then this man shows up. He pulls me out. Rescues me. And I think... how convenient that is. How easy."

Finally, I opened my eyes, looking to Leon first. His face was blank. All hint of emotion carefully tucked away.

"And then I find out he's USSTRATCOM. The same agency Moroe was employed with. The same agency that contracted me. And I thought: this can't be a coincidence."

I swallowed hard, bile burning my throat. "And I was terrified. Because now... I was trapped in this house with this stranger. And if he found out... if he knew who I was. What I had done? He would kill me. He could kill me. I had watched him do it. I knew exactly what he was capable of."

Leon didn't reach for me. Didn't touch me. He remained deathly still now. Like he was afraid if he moved, I might run.

"So I stayed in my room.” I continued. “And I stayed very quiet. And I tried not to give him a reason to dig any deeper."

"But I did." Leon whispered. "And you got mad at me."

There was subtle realization on his face. Like I had handed him missing puzzle pieces.

I nodded. "I was scared. And reckless." My fingers tapped a rhythm against the armrest. "I practically spoon fed you everything you needed so you would arrive at the same conclusion I had. Maybe because I needed to know. Maybe because I couldn't take that not knowing anymore. I don't really know why."

"That kind of stress eats at you." Jill said gently.

Leon exhaled. "You didn't want to wait. If you pointed me in the right direction, that was more predictable."

"Yeah." I ran a hand through my hair. "I guess. Maybe I just wanted you to get it over with."

I averted my gaze again. "I heard you. Every time you came by my room to check on me. I woke up every time I heard your footsteps. Counted how long you would stand in the doorway. Waited for you to walk into the room. I didn't have a weapon. Didn't know what I would do whenever you decided to do it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fight you off."

A small laugh escaped me. "Which is funny. Because I kept telling myself... I hope he kills me while I'm asleep. So I won't be scared. So I won't feel it. But then... my body never really seemed to fall asleep."

"And now you won't sleep unless he's nearby." Bishop said it casually. Unfiltered. A drunken observation.

My head snapped toward him.

He blinked slowly. "What?"

"Bishop." Jill sighed, sounding exhausted.

"What?" he repeated, gesturing with his beer. "I'm just sayin'. She sleeps fine now."

Heat crawled up my neck. I needed to say something. Rebut. Argue.

My eyes found Leon. Again. Something I couldn't seem to stop myself from doing.

"For good reason. Leon took a bullet for me." The explanation left me before I could think about it. "Before he knew what was going on."

Leon looked away from me.

"No one had told him why he was really protecting me. And when he asked me for the truth, I wouldn't tell him." I exhaled. "And then his own people showed up to kill me. And he could have believed them. He could have let them kill me. But he didn't. He fought for me. Even when he didn't have all the answers."

The next person to speak wasn't Jill or Bishop. It was Lex. Which was almost startling.

"So, that explains it then. He did what we couldn't."

Jill raised a brow.

Lex sighed. "We didn't blindly trust her. Come on, don't give me that look."

"Not giving a look." Jill muttered, tipping her glass to her lips.

"You are." He shook his head, kicking his leg up against the wall. "You said it yourself when she first got here. We didn't know enough about her. It looked suspicious. You and I questioned her for hours—what? A week after she had been tortured?"

Jill postured. "I have to keep my people safe. I don't have the luxury of being sensitive when it comes to keeping this crew alive."

"I'm not arguing that." Lex said gently. "And no one blames you. I'm just saying... it makes sense why Kendra would default back to him and not us."

Jill avoided my eye. "What are you, a therapist now?"

I leaned a fraction closer to Leon. "You guys were just doing your jobs. I get it."

Lex shrugged. "Didn't make it any less scary for you, did it?"

"I wasn't scared."

"Okay. Intimidated."

"That's the same thing."

Lex tilted his head. "Whatever you want to call it. It didn't exactly help build a rapport."

From beside me, Leon leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "So, what? You feel bad?"

"Things could have been handled better." He mumbled, looking away.

Suddenly, Jill leaned forward and smacked Bishop in the arm. "Would you knock it off? It's melting into the fire."

Somehow, I hadn't noticed Bishop holding a charred marshmallow over the flame. He flinched away from her attack, grinning as he lifted the stick out of the fire.

"It's perfect." He stared up at the blackened abomination, a gleeful look in his eye.

"It's gonna taste like ash." Wraith pointed out, smirking from the railing.

"No, it'll taste delicious." He argued.

The marshmallow chose that moment to slide off the stick—and drop directly into the fire.

Bishop frowned. "Well, now it'll probably taste like ash." He used the stick to try to fish it off the log.

"Do not fucking eat that." Wraith chastised him, stepping into the circle and snatching the stick from his hand.

"There's no way you think a cremated marshmallow actually tastes good." Rook shook his head. "Everyone knows toasting it until it's golden is the way to go."

"Yeah if you're a coward." Bishop snorted, reaching for another marshmallow.

Rook snatched the bag. "No. You don't get anymore. Save some for Kendra."

"I was the only one doing that!" Bishop turned and reached for the bag, trying to snatch it back. "I saved six. Do you really think she's going to eat six?"

Rook held it out of reach, looking over at me. "Do you want six s'mores?"

"I only need one. It's fine." I tried to hide my smile.

"This idiot has already had like four." Rook argued. "He doesn't need five more."

"He'd probably just incinerate them anyway." Leon kept his eyes on his own marshmallow, pretending not to be amused.

"Give them to me." Lex snatched the bag away from Rook, reaching for one immediately.

"Hey!" Bishop got up from his chair. "Those are for her!"

"She doesn't mind." Lex tossed the bag back to Rook. "Right, Junie?"

Suddenly, all laughter ceased, everyone going still. Even Lex froze, his smile vanishing.

"Kendra." He corrected himself quickly.

Silence. The fire crackled in the awkwardness.

"Who's Junie?" I tried to laugh it off.

Lex straightened, throwing the marshmallow at Bishop. "You know what... I think I'm gonna have a drink after all."

Everyone watched as he turned away. No one said a word when he ducked down the stairs. Waves crashed against the hull of the ship, filling the silence.

I looked to Jill, far more gentle when I again asked, "who's Junie?"

She pressed her glass to her lips. "Story for another time." Then she finished her drink.

Some part of me wanted to argue. Before I could, heavy footsteps echoed from the direction Lex had disappeared into. I looked to the stairs in time to see Owen step on the deck, two glasses of cider in hand.

He went to Wraith first, handing over the glass and mumbling something only she could hear. She turned her back to the crew, whispering something and patting him gently on the shoulder.

A moment later, Owen crossed over to me.

"Here you go, kiddo." He pressed the cider into my hand. The glass warmed my hand instantly. "Sorry it took so long."

"Good things take time." I assured him, offering my kindest smile.

"Aye. They do." The orange wires of his beard hid his lips, but I could tell he smiled anyway.

Then his gaze found Leon. "Somethin' came up, actually."

Leon sat up, snapping to attention. "What happened?"

"We had a message come through." He lowered himself into the chair beside Leon. "On comms. The U.S. army has a helicopter en route from a navy vessel. They've been tryin' to catch up to us. Stoppin' at every vessel they find."

"Is it Piers?" He asked immediately.

"I think so." Owen tugged at his beard in thought.

"What did they say? Is everything okay?"

The Captain folded his arms, a small smirk lifting his lips. "They're fine. Said they're delivering something."

With a breathy laugh, Leon relaxed back into his chair. "Didn't know the U.S. army acted as FedEx."

"What could they possibly be delivering?" Jill asked.

"Information." I mumbled, mostly to myself. I thought no one had heard, but both Owen and Jill looked at me.

"Must be." Owen agreed. "They wanted me to confirm if both of ya were still on the ship."

"Both of us?"

"You and Leon."

Leon snorted. "What, like we just decided to take a leisure swim back to shore?"

Owen suppressed a laugh. "A lot of people are lookin' for both of ya. I'm surprised we haven't gotten a visit from the BSAA's Air Force yet."

"How far out?" Jill interjected.

"An hour. Maybe less." Owen looked out at the ocean, as if he were expecting the helicopter to appear right then and there.

"A bit late for a visit." Rook noted.

Owen looked up at him. "It is. So they'll be stayin' with us. A day. Maybe two. Until the navy can refuel their helicopter. And you lot will be respectful and cordial. I don't want any of ya pickin' any fights." He kept his gaze on Rook when he said that.

Rook lifted his hands defensively. "I have never been an asshole... without reason." An almost smile.

Bishop barked with laughter, throwing his head back obnoxiously. "You're a goddamn liar!"

Rook smacked him upside the head, nearly toppling the Lieutenant from his chair.

"Hey!" Bishop turned around, punching Rook in the arm.

"Ow, you fucker," Rook shoved his head down. "You hit harder when you're drunk."

Bishop flailed, reaching back and trying to land a hit.

"Knock it off." Wraith and Jill said at the same time.

Leon chuckled softly beside me. Only loud enough for me to hear. I purposefully kept my gaze off of him.

He reached over me, shoulder nearly bumping my chest. I tilted back, giving him space to grab the chocolate he was reaching for. When he moved back to his side, his elbow bumped my knee. He rubbed it immediately, like he had actually hurt me.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly.

All I could do was nod, suddenly unable to speak.

His attention returned to the others, commenting on something Rook said. Something I had missed.

The crew laughed at whatever joke he made.

I smiled anyway, despite having no idea what anyone had said.

My attention had drifted again. Back to him. Every time I managed to drag my thoughts elsewhere, they circled back.

The way he sat. The way he laughed. The way he absentmindedly rolled the stick between his fingers. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

And no matter how hard I fought to focus my gaze onto anything else—somehow, it would always come back to him. As if my eyes were made to find him.

I was on my feet. Abrupt and careless. Not entirely sure why I was even standing. All eyes turned to me, questioning and confused.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm gonna..."

What? What was I going to do? What was I even doing?

"I need to use the bathroom." I mumbled, ducking my head and practically running toward the lower deck.

Their chatter followed me. Lex brushed past me on the staircase, saying nothing as he returned to the upper deck. My legs kept moving. Further. Past the shower and bunks. Down the corridor. Past the kitchen and mess room. Farther than I had explored before.

I found a staircase I'd never encountered before. Considered for the briefest moment turning around. Ignoring the rational side of my brain, I continued down the stairs anyway.

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to me that there might be anything else below the lower deck. Now, all I wanted to know was what was down here. Exploring was a safer thing to focus on.

At the bottom of the stairs, I was stopped by a large metal door. I half expected it to be locked, but when I pushed on the handle, it gave under my weight and scraped open.

I stumbled into the room, taking it in.

It was massive. Larger than anything else I'd seen on the ship so far. Every wall was lined with something. Guns. Ammo. Explosives. Gear. And in the center of the room? Lifeboats, shrink-wrapped pallets, and forklifts. It hardly filled the space. There was enough room down here to fit an aircraft.

Every one of my footsteps echoed through the room. The only sound aside from the waves crashing against the walls around me. The room swallowed everything else. I could no longer hear the chatter on the upper deck. Couldn't hear their laughter or drunken jokes. It was nothing but quiet. Calm.

It was difficult to explain why I didn't turn around and leave. I lowered myself to the ground instead, sitting alone on the floor and staring up at the weaponry around me. Wondering how long I could stay down here before someone came to find me.

Before Leon came to find me. Because he always did. Because if I was missing for too long, he would worry. Which was the last thing I wanted to do to him.

Five minutes. That's how much time I would give myself. And then I would go back up. Somewhere Leon could find me if he came looking.

There was only one problem: there was no way to tell time down here. No clocks or watches. So I'd have to make my best guess.

I closed my eyes, listening to the ringing silence. Enjoying it a little too much. A knot loosened in my chest. Realizing that, for the first time in nearly eight weeks, I didn't have someone attached to my hip. No one knew where I was.

My next thought made guilt bloom in my stomach. The isolation was relieving. Not because Leon was overbearing or difficult to be around. Just because... privacy was a luxury I didn't have anymore. Through no fault of his own. He was just doing his job.

And I had been very good. Listened to everything he told me. Didn't complain. Didn't make his job difficult.

So maybe... it was okay to enjoy these five minutes.

I dropped onto my back, laying on the floor without a care in the world. Staring at the ceiling that seemed a mile high. Losing myself to thought.

Thinking about him. Even when I tried not to.

For weeks, I had convinced myself this was infatuation born from proximity. And maybe in the beginning it was. But it was getting harder to deny. Especially now that we had slept together. Something we still hadn't talked about.

Which might have been my fault. I'd been so shut down the last two days. And Leon, being Leon, would never force me to have an uncomfortable conversation when I couldn't even get myself out of bed. No matter how much he might want answers. It wasn't his way.

He'd asked earlier if I wanted to have that conversation now. And I'd told him no. Because deep down, I think I already know what his answer would be. But I didn't know what mine would be.

I was attracted to him. That goes without question. But attraction wasn't the issue. Not entirely. It was this feeling. Whatever it was, it was tangled and messy and uncertain.

Do I love him? Yes. But there were so many categories of love and I wasn't sure which one he fell into.

I counted them in my head, defining each from memory. Storge, Philia, Eros. Familial, platonic, and romantic. Agape, Pragma, Ludus. Universal, enduring, playful.

Love was never something I held in reservation. I loved Angela. Loved Hayden. Loved Diana and Rob. I even loved Avery, which I could confidently say was platonic. That same confidence wasn't present with Leon.

It would be easy to categorize it as romantic simply because we'd been intimate. But if there was one thing I'd had painful lessons in, it was that sex didn't mean someone inherently loved you.

Even if we did. Even if this was that... what could we even do with it? We could love each other as much as we wanted. It wouldn't change anything. Strategic Command would still take him from me. The system would still take me from him. There was no other way this would end.

That wasn't even the worst of it. If we somehow weren't separated after all of this, there was a more terrible reality.

My life would forever be this. Viruses. Immunity. Regeneration. Labs and wars and politics. That was what I was destined for. Every moment. From the second Moroe injected me with that syringe, that was the forced trajectory.

This was Leon's job. But at the end of the day, he could go home. He could escape it for a few hours every day. But if I were a part of his life? He never would.

He deserved peace from this. He'd earned it.

So I could love him. Maybe. But from afar. For him, I could. I was good at that. Loving. Not being loved. That was who I was. Always, at the end of it all. No matter what was done to me. I still loved Moroe despite what he'd done. Still loved my biological parents regardless of the abuse and betrayal.

That's who I was. That's who I was. That's who I was.

"I don't think you're supposed to be down here."

I jumped, looking up toward the door immediately. Leon stood at the bottom step just outside the hangar, head tilted gently. A soft smile lingered on his lips.

I scrambled upright, brushing my curls from my face. "I'm sorry. I was just about to go back up. I didn't want you to worry about me—"

He held up a hand. "You're good. I wasn't worried." A pause. "Well, not too much. You were easy enough to find."

A breathless laugh escaped me. "How did you know I was down here?"

Slowly, he stepped further into the room, crossing his arms. "Well, you weren't in the bathroom. And your room was empty. I checked the wardrobe to be sure." A little smirk found his face at that. Pleased with himself.

"So we're joking about that now?" I laughed lightly, relaxing a little.

He watched me, unable to force his smile downward. Then he glanced to the door. "You want me to go? Seemed like you were having a moment."

I exhaled sharply, leaning back on my forearms. "No. It's okay. Probably better I don't think right now."

He didn't respond to that. Not at first. Something was happening behind those eyes. Thoughtful and careful. Without a word, he crossed over to me and slowly sat down beside me on the floor.

I watched him. Waiting for him to ask. Waiting for him to try to comfort me. He could always tell when something was wrong.

His head fell backward, eyes finding the ceiling. "It's quiet down here."

I almost laughed, not expecting something so simple and pointless. Relieved by it.

"Yeah. It is. It's nice."

He nodded, but said nothing. We listened to the ocean crashing against the hull. A steady rhythm. Syncing with the sway of the ship.

My eyes found him. This time, he caught me staring.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For today.”

His brow twitched. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“You know. Distracting me. Being ridiculous and… playful. It was nice. It helped.”

He hummed. “Sure. But, I mean, I was serious.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah? The bunny socks?”

“They were a hazard.”

“Pushing Bishop?”

“He compromised the mission.”

“Carrying me?”

He smirked. “You’re clumsy. Because of the socks.”

“Right, right. My mistake. How dare I accuse you of something so terrible.”

“You’re forgiven.” He said flatly.

Snickering, I turned my gaze on something else. The wall. The weapons. The gear. Pretending to study them.

Leon shifted. For a second, I thought he might reach for me. Brush his fingers across my shoulder like he always did when he wanted me to look at him. This time, he didn’t. He kept his hands firmly planted to the floor.

“Is it okay… if we talk about something?”

His tone was husky. I knew that tone. The lightness was gone. I didn’t dare laugh at him.

“I thought we were talking?”

He let out a breath. “No. I mean… you said something earlier. And it—I don’t… want to pretend it wasn’t said.”

I drew my legs into my chest, wrapping an arm around my knees. “Okay.”

His jaw tightened, eyes tracking my every move. He draped an arm over his own knee, trying to appear relaxed. Failing.

“I know there was a time where you didn’t trust me.” The words were gentle. “That first week we were together.”

I knew exactly what he was going to talk about now. Immediately, I shook my head. “Don’t.”

He sighed. “I scared you. More than I thought I did.” A frustrated laugh. “You’re really good at that. Hiding whatever you’re feeling. It’s annoying.”

I laughed warily. “Sorry.”

“I get it. I mean, I know why you do it.” He shrugged, looking down at the space between our hands. “I like to pretend I can read you. But I didn’t know. About that.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

“I know.” He paused, then our eyes met. “I’m sorry. That I was practically terrorizing you.”

“You weren’t.”

“Not on purpose.” He tipped his head back. “But I… I feel bad. About scaring you like that.”

“You shouldn’t.” I held his gaze. “That fear didn’t even have anything to do with you. I mean, all you had done for me at that time was help me. Save me. Protect me. What else could you have done?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed at his knuckles. “Something. There had to be something else I could have done.”

The words made my heart ache. With caution, I scooted closer to him. He remained still. Didn’t pull away even when I leaned over. Even when I pressed myself into his side.

“I’m sorry I told you that.” I breathed the words quietly. “That was cruel.”

“Cruel.” He echoed with a disbelieving laugh. His hand found the back of my head, tender as he threaded his fingers through my hair. “You’re a lot of things. But cruel is not one of them.”

“I shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t necessary.”

“It was. It was the truth.”

I let out a breath. “Not every truth needs to be spoken.”

“Withholding honesty isn’t mercy.”

That stunned me into silence. I didn’t have a rebuttal. Not because his argument was objectively true. It wasn’t. But it was true for this conversation. And some awful part of me knew he was also talking about more than just this.

Maybe he wasn’t even just talking about me. My tendency to hide. Maybe he was even talking about himself. Because we were both guilty of the same sin.

It was why we were both still stuck in this limbo of uncertainty. Neither of us were brave enough to bridge the gap. To say what needed to be said.

Funny how we could face true horrors. Blood and death and torture. But an honest conversation was what we shied away from.

I sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always—”

“Yeah yeah,” I cut him off quickly. “I get it. Shut up.”

A breathy laugh warmed the crown of my head. “Yes, ma’am.”

From outside the ship, a new sound disrupted the ocean’s lullaby. Choppy. Loud.

A helicopter.

It was already here.

Leon looked toward the nearest porthole. “Guess that’s our cue to leave.”

I pressed my face into his neck. “One more minute.”

There was a pause. Then his other hand slipped around my waist, holding me against him.

“Okay. One more minute.”

Leon

September 25, 2005 — Sunday

The revelation was destabilizing for Kendra. She spent most of Saturday sleeping. I wanted to believe it was because she hadn't gotten much sleep. But when night came, and the ship was full of nothing but the sound of the waves, she slept through that too. I knew this because she stayed in my arms through the night. No nightmares. No restlessness. She was just still. Quiet.

Morning came. It took me a long time to convince her to get out of bed. She didn't leave the room until almost noon. She skipped breakfast just as she had skipped dinner. I took the initiative to make lunch. One of her favorite soups. Something she always ate no matter how sick or upset she was. But even that, all she did was nibble on a few spoonfuls. At the very least, she drank the broth. But she left the noodles and vegetables.

Bishop tried—and failed—to get her to play a card game.

Mouse asked her if he could teach her origami, but she declined his paper. For him, though, she rested her head on the couch and watched as he folded paper cranes. She wouldn't make her own, so he made them for her, balancing them around her on the cushion. Until a dozen of them seemed to stand watch.

Most everyone tried to help. Noticed she was absent even when she occupied the room. Even Jill tried to engage with her. Included her in conversations. Asked her innocent questions just to coax a response from her. Kendra would give her a smile that never reached her eyes. Nodded along. Mumbled a word or two. But she never fully engaged.

The only one who didn't push was Lex. It was clear he felt guilty for bringing this to her attention. So he kept his distance. Didn't speak to her. But he watched from afar, checking on her from across the room.

Owen did what he did best. He brought her hot chocolate. Even if she didn't always drink it.

The worst part was that they kept looking at me like they expected me to do something. But even if I did have some magic trick that could brighten her mood, part of me thought that she had earned a bit of reservation. It was better than her hiding out in her room all day. And she had spent a long time pretending like everything was fine. After the murder of her family and everything she had been through after that, her nervous system had to be shot.

So I stayed close. Refused to give her some bullshit speech. Allowed her to feel whatever it was she was feeling.

I remained on the couch now, playing cards with Bishop after Kendra had refused. She sat on the ground with her shoulder pressed against the couch. Her cheek rested on the cushion beside me, the crown of her head brushing my thigh.

The mess room was filled with chatter. Everyone having separate conversations.

Harbor got up from the door and stretched before crossing the room and settling in front of Kendra. He set his head in her lap and immediately went back to sleep. Kendra didn't move to pet him like she always did.

Bishop's eyes flicked toward her and he sighed. "Man, she's out again."

I set my cards in my lap, glancing down at her. She was hardly in a comfortable position. Still, she seemed to be dead asleep. As much as I wanted to move her—put her somewhere more comfortable—I instead grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders.

Bishop watched, laying a card on the coffee table, eyes tracking my every movement.

I picked up my cards, shuffling through them until I found one that would work and laid it down.

He nodded, like the card was actually interesting, and stared at his hand. "You two seem close."

"We are." I replied flatly. There was no point lying about it now.

He raised a brow. "Close like... me and Rook? Or close like Wraith and Owen?" His eyes flicked toward the married couple in the corner.

"I don't gossip." I nodded to his hand. "Pick a card."

Pulling one, he tossed it onto the table and leaned closer. "Didn't realize there was anything to gossip about."

"Drop it."

"Fine." He rested his forearm against the table edge. "Better question for you. What's your plan after we reach the UK?"

I threw down a card. "That doesn't concern you."

"Actually it does." He ran a hand through his hair. "If you take off—go back to the states—she's going to shut down completely."

Throwing a nod to the rest of the room, he leaned into the table. "She might tolerate us, but she doesn't trust us."

"She trusts you." I argued. "She wouldn't sleep in the same room as all of you if she didn't."

He shook his head. "Not like she trusts you."

I leaned back into the cushion. "Sure. But I never said I was leaving."

Bishop scoffed, setting his hand of cards face down on the table. "You sure about that? We heard about the message Piers had for you."

Our eyes locked.

He shook his head. "The President wants you back in the States. He doesn't want you dealing with international affairs."

"Actually," I threw my cards on the table. "Graham said my name was clear and I was free to return to my post. That's it. I wasn't given orders."

"So, you would leave if you were ordered to?"

The question pissed me off. But it also felt... terrifying. In a way that I couldn't say aloud. Because I realized in that moment that I didn't have an honest answer. Not yet. I could say I would disobey orders all I wanted. But if it came down to it... would I?

Silence stretched too long. Bishop waited patiently, gauging my reaction.

I straightened, exhaling sharply. "She's a U.S. citizen. Doesn't matter if this is BSAA business now. She's still one of us. Not one of you." A pause. "And I'm staying with her."

He didn't seem convinced. "That wasn't what I asked."

"If I was ordered to leave, she'd come with me." I crossed my arms. "The president wouldn't want her unprotected and out of his jurisdiction."

"You'd take her back? Even if that meant she could be killed?"

"I kept her safe. Without help from anyone else. If I had support from Graham, she'd be even safer."

He nodded. "Even if that meant she's taken into custody? Experimented on?"

I tilted my head. "Like what this crew did to her?"

The insult didn't even touch him. "Like what your government is doing to that Birkin girl."

My jaw tightened, fingers curling as I suppressed the urge to punch him.

He was either stupid or oblivious. "Would you really do the same thing to her that you let happen to that little girl?"

I surged to my feet, towering over him. It would have been easy to lash out. But I refrained.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

With a bitter laugh, he got to his feet, only a few inches shorter than me but stepping forward all the same. "Be honest with yourself, Kennedy." Another spiteful laugh as he gestured to Kendra. "Or at least be honest with her."

"I am being honest with her." My hands flexed at my sides. "No one's ordering me to leave. The plan is still the same. I stay with her. She knows that."

Bishop's gaze flickered to Lex. Brief, but enough for me to notice. His attention returned to me. "Why didn't you leave when Piers told you your name was cleared?"

"What?"

"This is your job, right?" He stepped closer. "To counteract bioterrorism m."

"Right."

"So why didn't you go back to your own agency?"

"I was hired to protect her."

He threw up his hands. "Jesus Christ, Kennedy, why are you still denying it?"

"Denying what?"

Bishop side stepped me, moving toward Kendra. My body moved on instinct, blocking him from reaching her. He laughed like that proved his point. "You must think we're stupid."

"No, just you." I crossed my arms.

"Funny." He said flatly. "If you're going to be so careless around us, at least have the balls to admit what's going on."

"Why do you think it's any of your damn business?"

"Because you're treating this like it's temporary, bro." His face twisted into a scowl. "She has enough to worry about without you screwing her and walking away—"

I advanced on him, pressing my fist to his chest and driving him backward into the wall. "Watch your mouth, Lieutenant." I sneered the title at him.

"Kennedy. Enough." Jill called from the other side of the room.

I didn't look at her.

Bishop tilted his head. "Screwing her over." He corrected himself. "Why? What did you think I meant?"

"Break it up." Jill was closer now, almost right behind me.

I shoved Bishop roughly and stepped back, turning to look at her. "Might want to put a muzzle on this idiot." I muttered, shouldering past her.

The room had gone still, all chatter ceasing. Only Rook stood half way out of his chair, like he'd been on the brink of coming to Bishop's defense.

A blur of movement by the couch drew my attention. I looked over in time to see Kendra lifting her head from the cushion, yawning as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She blinked twice, lids heavy, before looking around the room.

"What's going on?" She croaked.

"The boys are being dumb." Wraith answered, getting up from her chair and crossing over to her.

Kendra looked up at her, quietly compliant as the older woman took her hand and coaxed her to her feet.

"Come on, sweet pea," her raspy voice carried through the awkwardness. "You want some tea? I have some chamomile hidden in my bunk."

Kendra nodded tiredly, oblivious as Wraith led her out of the mess hall. Harbor followed, shaking off like it might wake him up. The door shut behind them, leaving me alone with the rest of the crew.

Owen crossed his arms, a look of disappointment shared between me and Bishop. "Care to explain?"

I shifted, but said nothing.

Bishop straightened his shirt, stepping away from the wall. "Just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, sir." His tone came light, defusing the tension.

Owen sighed, looking back at me. "If you're gonna get physical, take it outside. The last thing Kendra needs is you two scarin' her."

"She's not fragile." Rook muttered, as if the conversation involved him.

Jill turned on him. "Shut up."

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know she can handle your bullshit." He looked between us. "But she shouldn't have to. Especially not right now."

"Got it." I answered shortly, for no other reason than because I wanted this conversation to be over.

"Understood, Captain." Bishop nodded.

Before anything else could be said, I turned on my heel and wrenched the door open. The Captain's sigh followed me as I retreated down the hall.

Wraith and Kendra ducked out of the room opposite ours, a box of teabags in hand. I slipped past them in the narrow hallway, giving a silent nod to Kendra before I ducked through the door into our room. Her footsteps paused. I thought she might turn and head back for me. But Wraith called to her and her footsteps retreated.

Finally alone, I plopped into the chair in front of the desk, running a hand through my hair. For a long time, I sat in silence, waiting for the tightness in my chest to ease. Needing this ball of rage to unravel.

Part of me wanted to believe the anger was justified. That Bishop's accusations were unfair and unfounded.

Another part of me worried that the anger came from something else. Fear. Fear that he might be right. That if given the order, I would obey and go back home. And if there was one thing he was right about, it was that doing something like that would hurt Kendra.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to will the thoughts out of my head. What was the point in worrying about a scenario that didn't exist? One that might never happen? I wasn't being called back home. Wasn't given orders. This was all just a what-if. So why was it eating at me? Why was I letting it?

Memories of the other night flashed through my mind. Her breaths in my ear. Her skin on mine. That damn line we had tried so hard not to cross.

Something I couldn't take back. There was no conversation. No mutual understanding of what this meant.

For me, at least, it wasn't what Bishop had said. Wasn't a fling. Wasn't casual. There was no part of me that wanted it to mean nothing. I never had been that kind of man. And I was damn sure that I never could be. Not for her.

But I was at war with my own mind now. Need and want clashing with duty. Telling me to prepare myself. Telling me to start planning how I might defy an order that didn't exist yet.

A different sort of anger moved into place, shoving Bishop and his pushiness aside. An anger I had spent the last seven years avoiding.

This wasn't a life I wanted for myself in the first place. All of this? This job? It was forced on me. To protect Sherry. And it had been for fucking nothing. She had suffered anyway. I couldn't save her.

Why the hell was I even considering loyalty to them? Because I was worried they might hurt Sherry? Or Claire? Hadn't they already done that?

Or was I just worried it might get worse?

"I brought you tea." A soft voice nearly made me flinch.

My head snapped to the door, finding Kendra in the doorway—holding two steaming foam cups.

My brow twitched, confusion betraying my usual composure.

She caught it, shrugging lightly before taking a step closer. "You looked upset." 

I leaned forward, accepting the cup and settling back into the chair. "Thank you." I mumbled.

Lowering herself onto the bed across from me, she lifted the tea to her lips and took a tender sip. "Do you know where my paper cranes went?"

The question was so unexpected that it instantly softened me, stealing my attention from everything else. "Mouse has them. He didn't want you to crush them while you were napping."

She frowned. "I hope he gives them back."

A small laugh escaped me. "Do you want me to get them for you?"

"No. You're pretty intimidating. You might scare him."

I raised a brow. "You understand that man has about two hundred pounds on me, right?"

She waved dismissively. "He's harmless."

"To you." I snorted. "He's still a tank."

A soft smile curved her lips. "Eh, that's all that matters. I'm sure you can handle yourself."

I blew over the rim of the cup before testing the temperature. It wasn't too hot, so I took a small sip and set the cup on the arm of the chair. "Yeah. You don't need to worry about me."

Her eyes found the ceiling. She didn't respond.

I tapped my index finger against the foam. "Feeling less tired yet?"

Another shrug, this one heavier. "Not really. I mean, my body is sick of sleeping. But my mind is just..." she paused, then looked back at me. "Overworked."

"Are you at least having good dreams?"

"Not dreaming at all, actually."

I nodded in understanding. "No wonder you want to sleep. Your brain is just shutting off."

"Wish I could do that when I'm awake." She muttered.

The words hit me in the chest. A pattern of hers I hadn't stopped noticing. She had a way of saying something extremely loaded with as few words as possible.

"I'm sure I can find a way to distract you."

A breathy laugh. "Oh yeah? You have a particularly thrilling game of battleship in mind?"

"Among other things."

She hummed. "Can't promise I'll be very fun to talk to."

"I always like talking to you."

Our eyes met. She searched my face before a small smile lifted the corner of her lips. We both looked away at the same time.

We let that linger between us. She lifted her tea to her mouth, swallowed a generous amount, tried to set it on the floor. I carefully took it from her hand before she could.

She protested. "I want to be able to reach it."

"Just ask for it back."

"You want me to bother you every time I want to take a sip of tea?"

A small laugh slipped out of my nose. "Gives you a reason to talk to me."

"I don't need a reason to do that." It came out confident, but she blushed like she had only just realized how vulnerable it sounded.

"Is that right?" I leaned further back, relaxing into the chair. "I'm all ears now."

"I don't have anything to say now."

I clicked my tongue. "What ever happened to your ability to 'talk someone to death'?"

She snickered, laying back on the mattress. "Not exactly trying to kill you, Leon."

"I think we both know it would take more than that to kill me."

A teasing look glimmered in her eye. "Right. How could I forget? You did tell me you missed my voice once."

I ducked my head immediately, heat rising to my cheeks. For once having nothing to say.

She shifted on the bed. "Sorry. I just meant..." a shy laugh, "I thought it was sweet."

Of course she did. I could remember that moment with extreme clarity. After I said it, she kissed me. No, we kissed. She gave me a chance to pull away. And I didn't. That was the first time we'd kissed.

Back to a time, not so long ago, that I now found myself longing for. Not just because she had kissed me. But because it was a time when it was just me and her.

If I was being honest with myself, I wished we could return to a time earlier than that. Before we had been forced out of that safe house. Before Verissimo. So many weeks spent together. Doing nothing but existing in the same space. Time taken for granted.

Those days were peaceful. Domestic. A type of normal I had wanted for myself before I had ever been forced into this life. A life I had come to assume would never be possible for me.

Movement in my peripheral had me looking back to the bed. She sat up, sliding toward the edge of the bunk. "I wasn't making fun of you."

I'd almost forgotten she had spoken to me before.

"I know." I held out her tea. "You want to take a walk? Get out of this room?"

She made a face, taking back the cup. "I'm still pretty tired. I think I want to go back to sleep. But you should go. Get some fresh air."

I hummed, tracing the rim of the foam cup with my thumb. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."

She tilted her head. "Shook you up that bad, huh?"

My eyes fell shut, recalling that feeling of overwhelming terror when she had been locked down here alone with those monsters. When I couldn't reach her. When I had torn the room apart looking for her and couldn't find her.

"It's just not worth the risk." I murmured. "I can go to the main quarters if you want to be alone. But I'm not going above deck."

She shrugged. Casual. Deceptively so. Very much aware of how bothered I was, but choosing not to push. "It's fine. I don't really need to be alone to sleep." Then she paused, turning her gaze to the porthole window. "I sleep better when you're around anyway."

I watched as she tipped her tea to her lips again. The sound of paws on steel ventured through the open door. Harbor sniffed her out, finding her on the bunk. I hardly noticed when he jumped onto the bed beside her.

She looked down at him. "Does he seem like he has less energy today?" Her fingers scrubbed at a spot behind his ear. "Do you think he's sick?"

"He's worried about you."

She frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Because he's a terrible dog." Then my tone lightened. "But he's... a good dog too."

A pleased grin split her lips and she folded forward, kissing the top of his head. "You hear that? You're starting to win him over."

I snorted, reaching forward to take her tea. "Go to sleep."

She let me take the foam cup, giving no argument as she lowered herself into the blanket. Harbor cozied against her stomach, resting his head on top of her hip. I watched as she made herself comfortable, eyes falling shut.

Setting both cups on the desk, I sunk further down in the chair, keeping my eyes trained on her. Like something might happen if I looked away. She shivered once and tucked her hands under her chin, pressing her fingers to her throat.

I could have made her get up. Could have pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it over her. But she looked too comfortable, cuddled with that dog, and I didn't have the heart to do the practical thing. Instead, I got up and went to the wardrobe, sifted through the clothes and towels, and eventually found her carry-on bag. Tucked at the very bottom was her pink blanket. I pulled it out, shaking it open, and returned to the bed.

There was no way she was asleep yet, but she didn't move or open her eyes as I found her side. She stayed completely still as I carefully laid the blanket over her. Harbor huffed at me as it covered his face, but he adjusted, emerging just to set his snout back down on her hip. Trying to disturb her as little as possible, I tucked the blanket over her shoulder, ensuring all of her stayed warm.

Just as I began to step away, her hand shot out from beneath the blanket, catching mine before I could go. I went still, waiting for her to say something.

But she said nothing. Instead, she brought my fingers to her lips—and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

My heart stuttered. The flustered part of me wanted to step away. Another part of me wanted to kneel beside her and pull her into my arms.

I did neither. With a steady breath, I reached for the chair, pulled it closer, and slowly sat back down. She clasped my hand in hers, pulling it into her chest like a security blanket.

I knew if I tried to pull away, she would let me go. But I didn't want her to.

Sweet girl. I thought. Gentle and soft. Not exactly the type of person you find in the midst of this life. Even after everything they'd put her through, she still hadn't hardened. Still offered a tranquil hand.

Maybe that was why I was so drawn to her. Even I had become rigid. Emotion was something we always kept buried. And working this job? Those emotions were seldom good.

I tried, at least. Comforted people the only way I knew how. A steady voice. A hand on a shoulder. Promises stitched together long enough to get someone through the next hour, even when I knew the ending wouldn't be good. That was kindness in its own respect, but it wasn't the same as Kendra's.

She could still smile. Laugh. Offer comfort that really meant something.

Being around her was a breath of fresh air. Even when she could barely hold herself together, she still found the strength to give me something I didn't even know I needed.

That's how I knew Bishop was wrong. I wouldn't leave her behind. Couldn't. Not because of whatever complicated intimate relationship this was between us, but because she needed safety and I was determined to ensure she had it.

Though, maybe a selfish part of me wanted that too. Maybe I was allowed to be a little selfish. Wasn't I? If I was ordered back home, I think I would disobey.

For the first time, it felt like an option. If I could choose my own fate... I think she might be a part of it.

I imagined what that might look like. Given a pen to write my destiny. If I just... wrote her name and broke the pen?

I damn near laughed at myself, shaking my head. That was a dangerous thought. A stupid one. Cheesy and ridiculous and... impossible.

Still, as I traced the soft lines of her face with my gaze, a subtle ache bloomed in my chest. A wanting for something I knew I wasn't allowed to have.

My fingers tightened around hers instinctively; holding on just a little longer. Feeling as though she were already being taken from me.

~ ~ ~

Kendra

Lamp light washed the steel room in a nostalgic yellow when I finally woke up. Waves crashed against the ship in a steady lullaby, calling me back to a peaceful sleep. It seemed, though, that my body had finally had enough of the constant rest. It ached to move. To do something other than wallow in whatever this awful feeling was.

I sat up in the bunk, stretching my legs and arms as I did so. Harbor's tail thumped against the mattress, energized immediately when he realized I was up. My fingers found his back, scratching him in acknowledgment.

"You're probably hungry, huh, buddy?" I croaked the words, sounding just as exhausted as I felt.

"Dinner's ready." Leon's voice sounded from a few feet away, making me jump. Somehow, I hadn't noticed him sitting at the desk.

He turned in the chair, looking back at me. "You gotta be hungry by now."

I opened my mouth to deny it, but my stomach growled, giving a traitorous answer of its own.

He nodded, slightly smug. "That's what I thought."

Before I could argue, he was on his feet, crossing the room. Harbor leapt down from the bunk, looking up at Leon with large expectant eyes.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat."

I sighed, averting my gaze to the floor and scratching at the blanket still draped over me. There was something so daunting about leaving this room. About facing the crew again.

They all knew. Knew I was related to Verissimo. Knew that his experiments on me had personally led to the hundreds of deaths we faced today. The deaths still continuing to rise. And maybe they didn't look at me with judgment or blame, but they didn't look at me with pity either. It was impossible to tell what they thought of me. And that was worse.

Suddenly, Leon was crouching in front of the bunk, low enough that his face was below me. Directly in my line of sight. He tilted his head.

"What if I said please?"

A small smile betrayed me. "...maybe," I whispered. "I'm just not in a socializing mood right now."

He lifted his hands in surrender. "I like eating in silence." A pause. "You don't have to eat a lot. But you need to eat something."

I blew out a breath, forcing my smile down. "I guess you're right."

He opened his mouth to speak.

"Yeah, yeah," I cut him off, pitching my voice down to mock him before he could say it. "I'm always right." A playful eyeroll. "I get it."

The corner of his lips twitched. "Glad we have an understanding."

I tossed the blanket over his head.

He chuckled, pulling it from his face and throwing it back on the bed. "Come on. If we're fast, I can sneak you in and out of the kitchen without anyone noticing."

"Treating this no-socializing thing like serious business." I mumbled, finally slipping toward the edge of the bunk.

"In case you haven't noticed," he stood up. "I'm usually pretty serious."

"Agree to disagree." I reached for him. "Give me a hand."

"Well, I would, but my hands don't detach." Despite the absolutely terrible joke, he took my hand and tugged me to my feet.

I snorted. "That was the corniest one by far."

"Made you laugh, though." He reached forward, brushing stray curls from my face.

Without thinking, I tipped my face into his hand. He held me immediately, thumb stroking over my cheek. My eyes found his. For a second, stepping closer seemed dangerously tempting.

"Do you really think we can sneak in and out unnoticed?" I asked.

"Easy." A small smirk curved his lips. "Time to put your operative skills to the test."

I glanced down between us. Nothing but fuzzy socks covered my feet. Leon sported heavy, rubber-sole boots. A small laugh slipped out.

"The whole crew will hear you coming in those."

He raised a brow. "I'm impressed by your observation skills already." The words came flat. Still, he bent down, pulling the laces loose and slipping his feet from the boots. He straightened and waved theatrically. "Better?"

I glanced at his socks.

He crossed his arms. "You're gonna have to be okay with office-white socks. We can't all own pink bunny socks."

With a hum, I turned for the door. "You could if you were brave enough."

"Are you calling me a coward?"

I tossed a teasing look over my shoulder, winking and holding up two pinched fingers. "Little bit."

He moved for the door, pulling it open and glancing into the hall. Harbor slipped out of the room the moment the door opened, vanishing somewhere down the hall.

"Do you remember rule number three?" He asked.

"Your rule number three or my rule number three?" I stepped behind him.

His eyes landed on me. "Your rule three."

My lips twitched. "Sounds familiar."

He grabbed me by the hand, tugging me toward the door. "Oh good. So you should know that next time you're mean to me," he paused, glancing down at my feet, "the bunny socks are going straight in the freezer."

“Pretty serious threat.” I remarked.

“I do recall you making a similar threat when we first met.”

I giggled and shoved him. He hardly budged, grinning.

My stomach growled again—louder this time.

Leon sobered, snapping his fingers to keep us on track. "Okay, focus, no more shenanigans."

"Shenanigans?" I snorted.

"Yeah, do you need a dictionary?"

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. "No, sir."

"Good." He leaned out the door, staring down the hall before swinging back into the room. "The mission is simple. We go straight to the kitchen and back."

I gave a mock-salute. "Understood, Agent Kennedy."

He ignored me. "It's late evening. Around this time, most of the crew will be above deck playing cards. If we stay below deck, we can get to the other side of the ship without being noticed."

"And if we get caught?"

"You run for the kitchen. I'll distract them."

"Solid plan." I nodded.

"Ready?" He looked out the door and back at me.

“Following you.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He pulled me into the hall, making a run for the corridor that led away from the officer's quarters.

I broke into a fit of giggles as he guided me through the lower deck. Footsteps echoed on the stairs ahead and he dove through the showers, pulling us behind the haphazardly hung curtain and pressing me into the wall.

"Stop laughing." He spoke with sincere seriousness. "They're gonna hear you."

I covered my mouth, the laughter jostling my shoulders. My forehead met his chest and I hid my face. He snorted, wrapping me into a hug before poking his head through the curtain.

The footsteps bypassed the showers, disappearing down the hall. We both listened as a door opened and then scraped closed again.

His hand closed around my wrist. "Move."

Before I could respond, he was tugging me back into the open. We slipped past the stairs, diving through the corridor that ran beneath the upper deck—running astern to ahead.

I nearly slipped in my socks and Leon tugged me upright. "Should probably invest in bunny socks that have a grip sole." He joked.

"I'll get right on that." I said breathlessly, trying to keep up. "Counter point—your legs are longer than mine, slow down!"

"Would you like me to carry you?"

I huffed. "My legs are short, not broken."

"Okay, well, move your short ass legs faster because I'm not slowing down."

"Leon!" I whined, but I picked up the pace. He let go of my hand, which kept me from tripping over my own feet.

"We're almost there." He assured me.

The corridor was filled with nothing but the sound of my own heavy breaths and our muted footsteps. After a few more yards, he skidded to a stop, pushing the kitchen door open and waving me forward.

"Come on, come on! Is that really as fast as you can run?"

All I could do was scowl as I slid across the steel, barreling into him. Completely unbothered, he turned me by my shoulders and guided me through the doorway. The door thunked shut behind us and I leaned into the counter, catching my breath.

His hand found the small of my back. "We're not in the clear yet. We still have to get the food and get out."

Nodding, I looked around the kitchen. "So, what's for dinner?"

"Owen and Wraith fried up some fish." He answered, grabbing a plate and handing it to me. "There's also some steamed vegetables and rice."

I moved from one pot to the next, loading food onto the plate. Leon reached for silverware, grabbing me a fork and knife. I set the plate on the counter and turned for the spice cabinet when the doorknob creaked.

"Get down!" Leon whispered, pushing me behind the island. I obeyed, dropping to the ground and stifling a laugh.

The door creaked open, boots thudding against the steel as the crew member entered. Leon busied himself in front of my plate, seeming to butter something with the knife.

The footsteps stopped short.

"Oh, hey, Leon."

I could recognize Bishop's voice anywhere. 

"Hey." He grumbled back.

Another step. "You're eating again?"

"No. Kendra's awake. She's hungry."

"Oh. Where is she?"

"In her room."

"Still hiding out?"

"She doesn't want company right now."

Bishop sighed. "Yeah. I get that." There was a long, awkward pause. Someone drummed their fingers against the counter.

"Look, man, I wanted to apologize about earlier." Bishop said suddenly.

My brows knit. Why was he apologizing? What happened earlier? Is that why Leon was upset a few hours ago?

Leon said nothing, which was frustrating, because now I wanted to know more.

A heavy exhale cut the silence between them. "I was being a bit of a dick." Bishop went on. "Your business is your business."

"Thanks." Leon mumbled, pulling salt from the cupboard.

Another pause. "So, are we cool?"

Leon made a point not to look down at me, salting my food for me. "Yeah. We're cool."

"Cool." He rapped his knuckles against the stove. "We're having drinks on the upper deck. Maybe you can convince Kendra to come up? The crew misses her."

An odd little knot tightened in my chest. Something that almost felt like guilt.

They missed me?

That seemed mildly startling to me. Because only a few minutes ago, I had been thinking about how weird they had been toward me. Assuming the worst of them.

"It's probably better if she doesn't drink." He put the salt away.

Bishop laughed lightly. "She a sad drunk?"

Leon's gaze flickered to me only briefly. "She's a very happy drunk. But she has no filter when she talks."

He hummed. "So, you have seen her drunk?"

"Once." He didn't elaborate.

"Well, I'll take your word for it." His footsteps trailed away and the door scraped open again. "No pressure. Drinking not required. Captain doesn't drink. He'd probably like some company too."

"I'll make sure to pass that on." Leon mumbled.

"Oh, one more thing." He stepped back into the kitchen, the sound of something rustling meeting my ears. "Mouse wanted me to make sure she got these."

Several tiny, lightweight items toppled against the counter.

Finally, Leon cracked, giving a breathy laugh. "She was wondering where those were."

The paper cranes. It couldn't have been anything else.

The door opened once more. "Don't let anything happen to those. Mouse will never let me hear the end of it."

"Sure." Leon nodded once.

"Thanks." And then Bishop was gone, the door thunking shut behind him.

I peered over the counter, ensuring he left. My gaze immediately found the paper cranes beside the stove.

With a sigh, I rounded the island and carefully scooped the origami cranes into my hand. They were small—no bigger than a chess piece. The perfect size to fit into the pockets of my sweater without crushing them.

Leon came up behind me. "That was a close one. You almost got caught."

"Got the cranes back, though." I snickered.

"Very important." He agreed, gently pushing my plate into my hands.

More voices carried down the hall, wandering past the kitchen.

He crossed his arms. "Might have to eat in here."

I shrugged. "Eh, probably shouldn't bring dishes into the room anyway." I shoveled a bite into my mouth.

"Adoptive parents were strict, huh?" His hip found the counter, leaning into it.

I winced but said nothing, choosing to stuff my face with rice instead.

"What was that?"

"Wha'?" I managed through a mouthful.

"That face."

I shook my head, swallowing. "Wasn't a face."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Maybe I just don't want to talk about it?"

He crossed his arms, nodding. "Okay."

"Thanks." I forked another bite, trying to swallow down this sudden shitty feeling with the food.

He knew he'd hit a sore spot. But he didn't know that it had nothing to do with my adoptive parents. This time, it had to do with my biological ones. And that was a topic I really didn't want to think about right now. Or ever again, for that matter.

So I ate my food. Faster than usual. Hungrier than I'd been in weeks.

"Look who's inhaling their food now." Leon teased me, watching as I picked the last of the fish from the bone.

"It's my best Leon impression." I joked, wiping at the corners of my lips.

“Cute.” He made a sarcastic face. Then he looked away, doing his best to hide his smile.

I made my way to the sink, rinsing the plate. “Sorry. Can’t help but mock you a little bit.”

He shrugged. “Just as long as you’re eating.”

I hummed in response, grabbing the sponge and scrubbing the plate clean with soap and water. When the dishes were clean, I stacked them on the drying rack and turned back around.

“Okay, Agent Kennedy, how do you plan on extracting me back to base?”

A crooked smile found his face. “Same way I got you here. We run for it.”

“There’s no doors between here and the showers.” I reminded him. “Think we can make it without getting caught?”

He pushed away from the counter, nodding. “You’re safe with me.”

I pitched my voice down, pressing a dramatic hand to my heart. “I trust you with my life.”

“You should.” He answered with sincerity, reaching for the door and cracking it open a hair. Briefly sweeping the hall, he confirmed we were alone and pulled the door open wider.

“Let’s move.” A calloused hand closed around my wrist, tugging me forward and urging me ahead of him.

We dove left, heading just past the stairs when footsteps echoed above us. We both froze, turning back in time to see Bishop drop onto the landing.

Surprise flickered on his face, looking between us. "...Kendra?"

"Time to go.” Leon clipped, surging forward and shoving the lieutenant backward.

"What the fuck?" Bishop stumbled, falling through the kitchen door.

Leon grabbed the door and closed it quickly before turning back for me and waving me forward.

“What are you waiting for? Move it!”

I broke into a run, giggling as I fled the scene. Leon stayed hot on my heels, the two of us tearing down the corridor. We only got half way down when I lost traction and pitched forward.

He caught me by the elbow. “Those socks are a safety hazard.” He chastised me.

"What the hell is going on?" Bishop yelled down the hall, already back outside of the kitchen.

I couldn't contain my laughter, slipping a second time.

Leon blew out a breath, dipped down—and threw me over his shoulder. I grunted as my torso fell over his back, hair falling into my face.

“If this were a real mission, you would have been caught.” He sounded dead serious.

All I could do was giggle, the world unsteady as he ran for the officer’s quarters. When I looked up, I caught Bishop running after us.

“He’s following us!” I hissed, still laughing.

He exhaled in annoyance. “Of course he is.”

The hall opened into the main living quarters. Bunks and hammocks were a blur in my peripheral as he ran for somewhere to hide. The sound of Bishop’s boots in the hall sent a surge of adrenaline through me.

Then Leon dove right, that haphazardly hung curtain nearly smacking me in the face as he took cover within the showers. The moment we were concealed, he put me back onto two feet.

I giggled, swaying slightly as I tried to regain my footing.

His hand never left my arm, keeping me upright. “You have to be quiet.” He warned me. “He’s gonna find us.”

I pressed my spine into the wall, unable to truly stifle my giggles as I whispered. “He looked so confused.”

Leon snorted. “Can you blame him?”

I shook my head, sinking down the wall as I desperately tried to quiet my laughter. The moment I sat on the tile floor, water soaked through my pajama pants.

“Ugh,” I lifted my ass away from the water. “You couldn’t have chosen somewhere better to hide?”

"Sorry, I must've missed the brochure for luxury hiding spots." Leon snipped.

I opened my mouth to respond.

"Who are we hiding from?" Bishop suddenly appeared beside my elbow.

I yelped in surprise, jumping away from him.

Leon snickered at my reaction, crossing his arms. “We’ve been caught.”

Bishop shoved the curtain aside. “No shit. I could hear Ms-Giggles-A-Lot from the hall.”

I ignored both of them, groaning as I writhed around to look at the dark spot in my clothes. “My butt’s wet.” I whined.

With an amused laugh, Bishop straightened and looked between us. “So what are you guys up to anyway?”

“Mischief.” I answered, pushing to my feet.

“I can see that.” He looked me up and down. “Running around like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to.”

Leon gestured to me. “She’s out of bed, though.”

“Why did you chase us?” I tilted my head at him.

“Why did you shove me into a room and run?”

“It’s a secret mission. You don’t have clearance for the details. Right, Leon?” I looked to him.

He nodded, backing me up. “Right.”

Bishop folded his arms across his chest. Patiently waiting for a real answer.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay fine, I was hungry but I didn’t wanna socialize. So we were sneaking around. Are you happy?”

His lips twitched. “Wow. You fold under absolutely no pressure, huh?”

I scoffed.

He shrugged. “Did you get Mouse’s origami things?”

The question sent genuine anxiety down my spine, a gasp tearing from my throat. “My cranes!” I plunged my hands into my pocket, pulling the folded paper out immediately.

To my relief, they were hardly damaged. Easy enough to straighten out and not completely flattened from the ordeal of being carried.

I blew out a breath, holding them up. “They survived.”

“Oh thank god.” Bishop snorted. “Good thing you didn’t overreact.”

I reached forward, grabbing the curtain and smacking him in the face with it.

He swatted it away, laughing.

As I tucked the cranes back into my sweater, Bishop turned for the hall.

“Well, I’m glad you seem to be feeling better.” He stepped out of the shower room. “We’re making s’mores above deck. If you’re feeling up to it, you should join us.”

The invitation was entirely warm. Too warm to meet with anything but reciprocal kindness.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Bishop.”

He threw up two fingers—a peace sign, maybe—then he was gone, his footsteps fading back down the corridor.

My eyes returned to Leon, who was suspiciously quiet now. “He reminds me of my brother.”

His head tilted in curiosity. “How so?”

I shrugged. “He’s… fun. Not so serious.”

“That’s good. Better than Lex.”

I clicked my tongue. “Lex isn’t that bad… anymore.”

Leon made a face. “You’re right. He’s not bad. He’s terrible.”

“Do you always hold grudges like this?”

“When it’s warranted.” He nodded to the hall. “You ready to go back to the room?”

I crossed my arms, considering it. Before, I had been completely worn out. Wanting nothing more than to keep to myself. Now? There was an inexplicable surge of energy. A desire to actually be out of bed. And that need to hide away from the crew no longer sat on my shoulders.

“I think I want a s’more.” I answered.

For some reason, I expected Leon to be surprised. Instead, a small smile found the corner of his lips and he pulled the curtain aside.

“Whatever you want.”