FLYING WITH NOWHERE TO BE

Jon looked down, and despite the growing sense of desire in the pit of his gut, he was worried about Gabriel. It was nice to feel him so close. To feel his legs interlock and keep Jon right where he wanted him. But if the closeness came at the cost of Gabriel hurting himself, then how could he enjoy this? He seemed okay, though. Settled down in a spot that didn’t make him ache. Seeing Gabriel pretend to mull his question over briefly made Jon smirk before the other man started leaning in. Jon did the same, eager for another kiss. Eager to do anything, really. And he scoffed slightly at Gabriel’s words, but nodded once. “Well, first I’d lay you on your back. That’s probably the best position for you to be in, right now.” Jon was seriously tempted to do just that, but he reeled himself back in. “And kiss you. Everywhere. Not just because you scared the hell out of me today, but you’re also seriously gorgeous, and kissing you is something I can do any day of the week.”

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, he nodded to himself in a vain effort to seem like he was considering the option. Not that it didn’t sound nice—any other time he’d be all for it—but given how he had settled himself close to Jon, he was happy. He took advantage of being able to run his hand through the other’s hair and the warmth of his body being so close. It would be a shame to ruin the moment by moving in any sort of way.

“Bullshit, Gabriel. I know you, and that’s how I know you aren’t alright. It seems different this time. You seem different this time.” She crossed her arms and tried to hide the fact that she was proud of keeping her cool. Even with her training, he knew how to push her buttons.

“And I’m here as your friend, not your therapist. You don’t have to say anything, I don’t have to say anything.” Katrina stood up, unzipped her jacket, and pulled it off. She crossed over and stood between him and the machine. “I’d rather talk. Because you need someone to listen at least.

Fingers curling into a fist at his side, he narrowed his eyes at her. Remained tense as a wounded animal as she moved across the room to stand in front of him. Swallowing down a feeling he refused to analyze along with as much of his frustration as possible, he nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

“I seem different this time,” he repeated with a scoff. “Part of my crew were murdered. I watched four thousand people die on television, the same way the other half of the colonists because some psycho and his cronies feared a few, not a lot, maybe a hundred or so, would die waiting for help that arrived early. Nevermind the fact that I was supposed to be there with those other four thousand people that died. I--” 

His words came to a stop as the realization hit him. Not of the incident, but of how he had moved, invading Katrina’s space physically and with all the anger that wouldn’t go away. Backing far enough away so she couldn’t touch him, he pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and rubbed at them violently. When they finally dropped back to his sides, he took a deep breath and shook his head.

               Anna would help move him, but nothing without checking the restraints clamped tightly around his wrists. She prayed that they would hold should anything horrific happen - like him waking up and trying to break free for instance.  ❝Yes, sir. I have a tranquilizer ready if he does wake up.❞

It seemed unlikely he was going to wake up, but Chris wasn’t going to begrudge her her caution. Chris only gripped beneath the man’s arms, allowing her to take the other end of him. Looking off in the direction of the where certain more free thinking citizens were to meet them, a feeling of dread came over him. The man might’ve been Chris’s height, but he had to weigh nearly twice as much. Such a dense being wouldn’t be easy to maneuver.