#aurelac

Through the circular window above the sink she could see the light on in the loft, a pinprick of golden yellow across the sea of pink in the pre-dawn. Siggi’s got ‘em up already. She smiled and flicked the wall switch to light up the room. Good. The lost and confused 19 year old college dropout who had turned up looking for work during the harvest season seven years ago and had never so much as held a shovel let alone swung a sickle had developed into quite the farmer, proving to himself and everyone that the scholastic route had never been for him. Even when her father had to retire and they had to downsize the operation, Clara kept Siggi on as the full time manager- the only other full timer apart from herself. While he still  stayed in the loft for the three weeks during harvest, he had moved into an apartment over the hill in town with his girlfriend, making the forty five minute commute for the rest of the year by hovercar. 

He didn’t know it yet, but at the close of the current season Clara planned on talking to him about his interest in buying the farm from her one day. It’s gotta go to someone. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want her family’s property to go to. She had a cousin with two kids on Central but his only interest in the land would be in selling it, the man telling her so point blank. It didn’t surprise her since he had never actually set foot there, but keeping the farm within the family was less important to Clara than making sure it went to someone who would continue to care for it as she had. With Seth gone and no children of her own, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather it go to than Siggi. It won’t be for another nine or ten years at least but… She sighed, opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling down the large white canister of high-caf tea. But it would give him time to save if he is interested and- she peeled the lid off the canister, spooning three heaping scoops of the dried leaf powder into the brew pouch on the counter kettle. And it would make me feel better knowing it was going to him and not developers or contractors. 

Frowning, she was reminded of what happened with Briggs’ farm, just a few miles from her own front door, when the man became too old and sick to work and couldn’t keep up the payments. With no one to take the reins from him, the land had gone up for auction, ending up in the hands of some rich Central asshole like her cousin. Last year, for the entire three week harvest while she and Siggi and the other seasonal hires toiled in the Thulian fields, they were treated to the constant grinding and pounding of construction machinery as it ripped up Briggs’ once fruitful farm and readied it to be built up into luxury condominiums. I won’t let that happen. Not to my fields. Not… Clara jammed the start button on the kettle, swallowing a lump of emotion before shaking her head. Stop it, Clara, it’s too damn early for that. 

With the Aurelac rush drying up though, prospectors, freighter captains, jewelers, investors and anyone else who had made their money in the rare root gems were cashing out and looking for places to spend their wealth in comfort. Kamrea was a first choice for many of them, and for many reasons. It was a temperate planet with only a few weeks of what could be considered winter weather, the air was breathable, the water potable, and the ground exceptionally fertile, Thulian, Crater-Apples, Potatoes, countless herbs and a cornucopia of other produce grew in abundance there. Its close proximity to Central, where most of the galaxy’s Aurelac crews took off for the Bakhroma System, also meant that a large Kamrean population worked in the industry. It was why finding seasonal help on the farm was never a problem during the height of the rush- men and women from all over the galaxy had made the planet their temporary home between runs to the Green Moon, finding  themselves in need of work between digs. 

Like Ezra. 

The kettle hissed, steam beginning to rise as the dark purple liquid started dripping into the waiting thermos, and though the air that came through the open windows was warm Clara shivered. She placed her hands on the countertop and closed her eyes. If she took a deep breath and tuned out all but the sound of the tea brewing, she could call back a memory that was almost strong enough to feel- His arms winding around her from behind, lips brushing first along her shoulder whether she was wearing a shirt with sleeves or not, then landing close to her ear as he pressed his body to hers. His scent, like the forest and the fields, the stream and clean sweat mixing with the herbal smell of the tea and completely intoxicating her as she leaned back into his broad chest. “You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry”. The tip of his nose tracing the edge of her ear before his patchy beard raked along the skin behind it as she, breathless, struggled to ask him what it was she made so difficult. “Determining whether I am awake-“ A kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. “-Or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace.” 

Opening her eyes she felt the warmth that steeping in the memory had given her leave in a rush. It always did, always hurting more than the ache she’d used it to soothe. This season would mark five years since the last time she’d stood on the porch and watched him go. Since he left. Since I… The kettle finished brewing, clicking as the drip stopped abruptly. Since I told him not to come back until he was done with… She could feel the sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes and forcibly blinked them back. It was without a doubt her biggest, heaviest regret and it weighed on her heart most ruthlessly at this time of year, the season that had brought him to her and that had also become the annual reminder of his departure from her life. 

Pulling the first thermos from the kettle, she twisted the cover on before any of the heat could escape. She went on autopilot then, setting it aside and replacing it with a second, going about the process and scooping more powder into the brew pouch. She had two more to fill after after that to ensure the whole crew had enough energy to get through the long shift. Clara had very few rules on the farm, but one that she was adamant about was that stim chew was not allowed on the premises. She was happy to provide as much high-caf tea as her crew could drink though, the natural substance working just as well to invigorate without giving the user shakes and headaches. And it wasn’t addictive. 

She used the time to pull herself together. Stupid. She knew the risk that came with thinking about him, giving in to such a powerful memory about the man she still loved so powerfully no matter how they’d both let each other down in those last few months before he left. Her pain, her anger, the things she felt when she had told him not to come back if he was going on the path he had laid out for her, they were real and she didn’t blame herself for feeling them. She was grieving, not just for Seth, but for Ezra, too. He wasn’t the same after… And then that next trip, when he- An uneven breath burst from her lips, the next few coming out the same way. I never should have let him go back after we lost Seth. 

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her palms, blotting the rest of that thought from her mind. His decisions were clouded by grief then, too. She saw that now, understood it. He loved her brother just as much as she did, and he had taken that loss extremely hard. So hard that he couldn’t be there for her, or at least that’s what he had convinced himself of. I wasn’t there the way he needed me to be  either though. I… pushed him away. And I never pulled him back. 

She switched out the thermos again, twisting the lid on, setting it down, the grainy sound of the scoop moving through the tea powder punctuating the silence as she refilled the brew pouch a third time. Outside the sky was lightening to a pale whitish blue, roughly one third of the harvest Star peeking over the curve of the planet. She’d lived there all her life but it was still breathtaking how quickly the enormous orb appeared in the sky this time of year, how with each blink it rose higher and got brighter until suddenly your eyes couldn’t drink the vivid colors in quickly enough, everything as bright as it had ever been intended to be. It was beautiful and it made her thankful to call the place her home. 

Though without Ezra, without Seth, could she really call it that? 

Yes. The thought came swiftly as she watched the fields come alive in vibrant hues of pink, flecks of pollen starting to shine in the first rays of light. She felt it in her chest, a swelling that made her take a breath. It made her conscious of her own heartbeat. This is where she and Seth grew up, running through the hollow Thulian stems in the winter or collecting smooth stones from the stream after the rainy season. This is where she learned everything she knew about farming and hard work from her father, the man also teaching her to save time for joy and celebration. This is where she met Ezra, where they spent three years so deeply and fully in love that she could still feel him after more than that much time apart. If this wasn’t her home, filled with all of that, then she never had one. 

By the time she placed the fourth thermos under the kettle the kitchen was bathed in radiant harvest light. A slight orange tinge touched everything as the Star finally rose completely over the horizon. Clara turned back towards the doorway and reached out to click the light switch off. Artificial light was only necessary a few hours a day during the harvest weeks. It would still be light out when they finished work for the day, all of them likely falling into bed before needing to turn on a lamp once it finally got dark at night. Turning back around she saw that Siggi had doused the loft light, too. They’re probably heading down now. She gave herself until the final thermos was full to finish composing her emotions, closing them off as she twisted the lid on. 

There was hard work to be done, and it required her full attention and awareness. The tools they used to harvest the puffy pink pollen sacks were sharp and she’d seen with her own eyes what they could do in the hands of someone who wasn’t thinking clearly. For her own safety and for that of her fellow harvesters, she couldn’t bring those feelings- the way she ached with regret and how badly she missed him and how thoroughly terrified it made her to wonder why he had still not come back- into the fields. There was no place for it there, not now. 

She packed the four thermoses of tea and a few reusable cups into a large satchel along with a small case of Bits Bars. They weren’t her first choice but they were fast, available nutrition for the long day. Full of flavor, the package boasted. Kevva knows that’s a lie. She rolled her eyes. As soon as the season was wrapped up she always cooked a huge meal for the whole team, and anyone who had ever worked for Clara or her father knew that they had a place at her table for any and all holidays. But no one complained about the provided rations during the season, so she tried not to feel guilty about the offering. 

Adding a first aid field kit to the bag, she closed it and set it down on the small table before stooping to open the lower cabinet. Most importantly… Pulling out the bag of kibble, she filled Abe’s bowl in the corner of the kitchen and refreshed his water. Alright, your highness, you’re all set. She smiled to herself as she stowed the kibble. Though the rotund striped orange cat spent most of his time snoozing in the window and typically couldn’t be bothered with the goings on of daily life on the farm, he was affectionate towards Clara, jumping into her lap at the end of the day, rubbing his chin on her knuckles and generally giving her something to look forward to. Ezra used to joke about the cat’s laziness, citing the one occasion when Abe had actually stood by and allowed a family of channel rats to move into the basement, but Clara knew that the man had a soft spot for her pet, even as he grumbled about having to deal with the pests himself. Though he’d been born feral, Clara finding him as a kitten, yowling alone in the barn, Abe had never been a hunter. Without his bowl of kibble he would be completely lost. But despite his pacifist, helpless nature meaning that she could never count on him to keep rodents out, Clara would be lost without the little furry lump, too. 

Abe taken care of for the day and the necessary supplies packed, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the back door onto the porch that wrapped around the old farmhouse. The field directly to the right of the house had already been processed, the pink pollen stored in the silver silo attached to the barn, ready to be tumbled and bagged as soon as the other two fields had been harvested. The sweet smelling powder was used in a number of products ranging from paint to perfume either to add fragrance or color, and because Clara kept with her father’s method of only using natural fertilizers, the Thulian farmed on her property was even rated for use in food and drink. Though the field that was finished was the smallest, she and the team had made good time with it, getting it squared away in only four days and giving themselves a bit of a cushion when it came to getting the other two larger fields done. The time crunch really only applied while the pollen was still on the stalk, the ripening process halting as soon as the sacks were sliced from the tops. But having a little bit of leeway took some of the pressure off and that made keeping morale up much easier. 

Once Clara had turned the corner, coming around to the front of the house, she saw Siggi striding across the field, dragging harvesting equipment behind him. He raised one arm over his head, the bright light glinting off his flaxen hair as he waved to her. She returned the gesture, then pulled the bandana that was tied around her neck up over her mouth and nose. The Thulian wasn’t toxic, but it made your nostrils and throat tickle if inhaled in large quantities. It also stained skin and hair and clothing, especially when mixed with sweat, but there wasn’t much to be done about that aside from much needed showers at the day’s end. Ready for work, she walked down off the porch and made her way towards where her team was setting up at the far side of the middle field. 

Had she waited just a second or two longer she may have heard the beep coming from the communicator screen that hung next to the light switch near the door in the kitchen. The call that came through then might have been answered instead of being directed to her inbox, continuing to beep every thirty seconds until the message was retrieved and played.    

Eight hours later, Clara trudged back up to the house to refill two of the tea thermoses, this time with cold water. Wiping the back of her hand across her sweat slicked forehead, she could feel the pink powder leaving a rosy streak across her skin. Yanking the bandana down off her face, she licked her dry lips and opened the door to the kitchen. The air cooling system whirred gently and the conditioned air hit her face instantly as she stepped inside, drying the smudge of pollen on both her face and over her knuckles. It was a hot one, and she was glad to step inside for water and for the reprieve. She’d told Siggi and the others to take a break in the shade until she returned, and peering out the circular window she could see them sprawled out in the open doorway of the barn. Good. 

As soon as she placed the thermoses in the sink to rinse them out, Abe came scuttling into the kitchen, meowing loudly and circling her ankles. She bent down to stroke his hunched back as he continued to cry out. “Hey Mister, what’s got you all in a-”  

But the beep of the message indicator on the communication screen cut off the rest of her question, and she rose, turning in the direction of the machine. Abe didn’t like the sound that the machine made when there was a message waiting, she knew that. “Sorry, little guy,” she muttered to the cat as she walked over to the wall to stop the sound. He meowed back and she had to laugh at how animated he was. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, leaving you alone with the big bad beep.” He headbutted her calf as she started entering her passcode to play the message, and as soon as he heard the automated voice of the inbox menu, he trotted happily out of the kitchen. Clara shook her head, still chuckling at the cat, his heavy footsteps still audible from the next room. 

Sighing, she pressed the play button, ready to hear some recording pertaining to new market guidelines or offers from developers looking to purchase her land. She leaned casually against the doorframe, finger hovering over the delete button, ready to press it if her assumptions were correct. Who else would it be anyway? The machine beeped, and the message played. 

There was a pause, only a shaky breath coming through the speaker, but already enough to tell her that the message was not a recording. Dropping her hand away from the screen, she looked more closely at the number, the three digit code at the beginning making her forehead crease with confusion. 763? That’s… Double checking the chart that was installed on the screen, she confirmed what she had thought. That’s the Med Center on Central.   

She had no time to process that information though, the caller finally speaking, the young female voice sounding thin and anxious. “H-hello? This...this message is for Clara.” 

Who is that? Her heart pounded at the fear and uncertainty in this girl’s voice- this girl who knew her name and where to reach her. She stood up straight then, but kept her hold on the doorframe, a strange dizziness striking her as the message continued. 

“Clara? I’m,” she took another shuddering breath and cleared her throat, “My name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with,” a sharp inhale, a stunted release of air, “With a man named Ezra and-” 

All the air in the room was gone as she heard his name, the walls falling away and the ceiling tumbling to the floor. Ezra. She heard the gasp that fell from her lungs as she tightened her grip on the frame, her knees buckling slightly. Ezra. He’s alive, he’s- She realized then that the message was still playing but the rushing in her ears had drowned it out and she couldn’t hear the rest of the girl’s trembling words. Wait. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and brought a quivering hand up to the control panel to punch in the code that would restart the message. If she’s calling from the Med Center that means… Her blood ran cold as she stared at the machine intently this time, waiting to hear the rest of it. 

“H-hello? This...this message is for Clara. Clara? I’m- my name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with...with a man named Ezra and I- he...he needs your help.” There was another pause and Clara heard a sniff followed by a soft whine before the girl spoke again. “Please, I don’t know… there’s no one else for me to call. He’s...he’s hurt and...and sick and all I have is your contact information and-” Clara’s chest clenched as the girl’s words started coming more rapidly, the adrenaline that was shaking her voice causing the speed at which she spoke to double. “Please, if you don’t help him they’ll just...they’ll put him in the system and…” Clara shivered at the thought of Ezra or anyone she cared about being shoved off into the poorly run social system of healthcare. “Please, Clara, call this number back, please. He… the only thing he’s said in the last twenty four hours has been your name.” 

Tears ran down her cheeks freely then despite not knowing when they started. She knew that they were leaving painted streaks of Thulian dye where they trailed but there was no stopping them. A small sob fought it’s way free even as she tried to silence it to take down the number that the girl, Cee, had given her. Ezra. She could feel his warm breath on the crest of her shoulder, his strong arms flexing around her, her heart absolutely jubilant to know that he was alive. But in the next beat she clenched her eyes closed as the message played again in her mind. He’s hurt and sick. A sudden terrible twisting sensation started up in her stomach then, and she was helpless against the thought that those words conjured- that the cruelty of the universe was about to rear its hideous head again and steal him from her the second she got him back. Another sob, this one more ragged, ripped itself free. Ezra… 

There was no doubt in her mind or in her heart or her soul that she would be calling back. She knew without hesitation that she would do whatever was asked of her in order to provide what she could for the man. But even though she spent years wishing she could take back the last things she had said to him, his reemergence in her life, so shrouded with danger and darkness left her paralyzed. Once she had the number copied, she turned and slid her back down the wall until she plopped onto the ground, the room still spinning behind her closed eyes. Ezra. 

She knew the man she met back when her father hired him, the man she had gotten to know throughout that season. She knew the man that she fell hard and fast in love with, and she knew the man who had come back broken once before. She knew the man she had loved and lost but she had no idea who this man was now. Would there be anything left of the Ezra she’d known? Was there anything left of her that he would recognize? 

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, tears silently running down her face in pink streams, her eyes focused on the far wall, but it had been long enough to draw Siggi’s curiosity, Clara coming out of her stupor only when she registered the man kneeling in front of her and snapping his fingers. 

“Clara? Hey, Clara, c’mon look at me, will ya?” There was concern in his voice, and as she blinked back to reality she saw it swirling in his eyes, too, their dark blue depths clearing only when he noticed that she seemed to notice him. “Hey,” she sighed in relief, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You scared me for a minute, thought you overheated there, boss.” Clara tried to respond but could only swallow the lump that formed in lieu of words. “Boss?” Siggi’s brow furrowed again, smudges of Thulian powder drying in the creases there. “Hey, Clara, what h-” 

“It’s Ezra, Sig.” She was finally able to summon up enough vocal strength to respond, and even then her voice came out in a thin whisper, like the girl on the message. “He’s… he’s alive and I-” That was as much as she could get out before her eyes swam and tears clogged up her throat again. It was as much as he needed- Siggi had been there for most of their relationship. Ezra had even contributed quite a bit to his training on the farm the first year he was there, Siggi developing a sort of mentorship with the man for the short while they worked together. And he knew how it had wrecked Clara when he had left five years ago. 

“Oh, shit, Clara…” She felt his hand squeeze the top of her shoulder as he sat next to her before opening his arm for her to lean into him, transitioning from employee to friend- family- in that moment. He let her cry into his shirt, not caring that it was soaking pink stains into the collar. After a few hefty sobs left her empty for the time being, he spoke again. “Listen, I’m gonna go back out with the guys and finish up for the day.” He pulled back and made her look him in the eye as he continued. “You take all the time you need, call whoever you have to call and… if you haveta go anywhere, Clara, you go, hear me?” He nodded confidently and she tearfully nodded back. “Me’an the team’ll take care of whatever we have to.” 

I know you will, Sig. She leaned forward and hugged the young man who reminded her so much of Seth in so many ways, but who was so much himself in just as many. “Thank you,” she managed, knowing that he’d hear everything those two words really meant. He helped her up off the floor then, and she waited until he had refilled the two water thermoses and left, the screen door swinging shut on its hinges behind him. 

The air filtration system hummed and the screen on the wall, though no longer beeping, still flashed with the message that she hadn’t deleted yet. Clara played it one last time before calling back the number that this unknown girl had given her, trying to see if there were any clues she had missed that would tell her what to expect about Ezra’s current state. There were none, just the frightened, desperate way that Cee’s voice made her think of the sparrows that hopped and flitted among the branches of the crater-oak out back. Who are you, Cee? 

Taking one final deep breath, Clara entered the combination of numbers that connected her to the Med Center on Central, and the case worker that had been assigned to Ezra. 

Extensive bodily trauma resulting in field amputation and infection. A shallow chest wound that had also become infected. Damage to his lungs from the volume of toxic spores he had inhaled while on the Green Moon. She felt herself go numb as the woman on the other end of the phone rattled off the list of things that he was battling. He’d been put into a medically induced coma so that they could focus on bringing the fevers down and getting the infections under control, and as long as that happened within the next day, he would be released from Intensive Care. The case worker explained that Ezra had no other contact, no one else to come for him, and that if Clara couldn’t, or chose not to, he would be turned over to the social system… and so would the girl that had come in with him. She was a minor, and not his biological child, and unless Clara wanted to collect her as well, she’d go into foster care in one of the cities there on Central. 

Ezra had only told her some of the stories of his childhood, he and his brother growing up bouncing from home to home, city to city, sometimes even to other planets and once, spending an entire year aboard a freighter without ever setting foot on solid soil. She shivered knowing that no matter who this child was to him, he wouldn’t want her being shoved off on someone else- not when she knew that he hadn’t even told her the worst of his memories. The ones he had shared were bleak enough. 

“No, I’ll… I’ll come. For both of them I’ll…” She cleared her throat to speak more clearly, the woman asking her to repeat herself and confirm what she’d just said. “I’ll come.” She said evenly, somehow. “I’ll… tell me where to be and I...I’ll come.” 

The woman responded positively, letting her know that she would need to be at the local Med Center there on Kamrea late afternoon the following day. If for some reason his condition worsened overnight and he was unfit for transport, they would give her a call in the morning with new information. If everything went well, the medical team would keep Ezra sedated long enough to get him to Kamrea and back to Clara’s home, the case worker ensuring that they would set her up with whatever medications and dressings she would need to continue to care for him. Her heart pounded in her ears as she agreed to it all, the woman finally asking Clara if she had any further questions. 

“The girl?” She heard her own breathless voice ask. “Is… was she hurt at all? Is she sick, too?” 

The case worker quickly answered that while the girl, 14, Cee, had also suffered some minor lung irritation from the toxins on the Green, and was slightly underweight and dehydrated upon arrival at the Med Center, she was otherwise in good health with no major injuries. Clara allowed herself a moment of calm, thankful that the girl, this scared, stranger, was alright. 

“D-do you know how she...how they came to be traveling together?” 

The woman only knew that the girl said her father had been killed on the Green, and that Ezra had protected her and helped her get off of the moon in time to catch the last slingback to the BG-Central freighter. Apparently she was in shock herself and wasn’t willing to say much to anyone, only that she wanted to stay with the unconscious man she arrived with. As there were no missing persons reports out for the girl, and the Med Center had dealt with teens orphaned on the Green before, they didn’t press her for questions, looking only for someone they could pass the problem along to. 

“I’ll be there,” Clara stated again before hanging up. 

Abe came sauntering back into the kitchen just as Clara entered the code that erased the message, the blinking light going dark. His gentle nudge with the top of his fuzzy head against her ankle was accompanied by a soft meow, as though he’d heard the entire conversation and knew what Clara was feeling at that moment. She let her breath out slowly as she stooped down to scoop the cat up, cuddling him close to her chest, careful not to get too much of the pink powder that coated her clothing on his fur. 

“He’s coming home, Abe.” The cat purred at that. “Ezra. He’s coming home.”

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Let her sleep. Time for all of that later. 

There was time for all of that and so much more, now. At that thought, a slow smile stretched across his face to pull his cheeks wide. Bringing his hand to his chin, in part to keep himself from waking Clara, Ezra slid his fingers over the short, patchy stubble that currently covered his jaw and the sides of his face. The pad of his pinky fit perfectly into the divot left behind from his clumsy attempt at taking care of his own grooming the previous night. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a permanent scar, but for now there was a visible mark. Still, it's an improvement.  He hadn’t shaved since just before he set out for his last trip up to the Green, his beard already starting to become unruly and overgrown by the time he met Cee, and that had been almost three standard Kamrean weeks ago now. The last two of those weeks had been spent there on the farm, and aside from the three blissful days that had turned out to be nothing but fool’s gold, his infection returning and requiring another round of aggressive medications, he had only been safely out of the woods for the last day and a half. His physical appearance had been the furthest thing from his or anyone’s mind while he fought to survive, to stay with Clara and be there for Cee. 

But since the doctor that Clara had spoken with had said that if he made it through the second course of prescribed antibiotics without the fever returning he was in the clear, Ezra had made a decision. In addition to the adjustments that they all were making following his return and Cee’s arrival, he decided that he had to start adjusting to the other aspects of his second chance at life, too. Namely, life without his dominant arm. While his lungs would recover fully albeit slowly over time, there was no restoring an amputated limb. Though the incisions and sutures were already sealed with new skin growth, the wound was still too fresh and new. The bones and muscles in the remainder of his right bicep were still too internally swollen and traumatized for him to be fitted with a prosthetic or to even see a specialist to determine if he was a candidate. 

Don’t go weighing your harvest before you’ve finished in the fields, right? 

He knew that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be a candidate to receive a new arm; that the type of injury he had sustained, the amount of disease that had plagued his marrow and tendons could disqualify him from going through that process. That assessment was still months away though; after the rains came and went, after the winter chill fell and lifted, after Siggi and Runa’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t want to give himself false hope about what his life would look like going forward only to be disappointed when that false hope crashed. He knew that there were tasks that he needed to start retraining himself to do left-handed that he would normally use his right or both hands for. Using the restroom and taking a shower had been ungainly at first, but he was able to get by. Eating, so long as he didn’t try to use a knife or a spoon, was also a graceless yet manageable task. Anything that could break or spill if he fumbled it he avoided or asked Cee or Clara for help with, because he didn’t want to create an even more inconvenient situation by making a mess- not after he’d dropped an entire canister of tea powder trying to brew a cup for Clara and ended up throwing the brew basket into the kitchen sink in frustration. He hadn’t tried to do anything as ambitious as write with a pen or tie a shoelace yet, nothing that required real finesse or control. But with the Harvest Dinner coming up- his first in five excruciatingly long years- he wanted to look presentable. 

As much as is possible for a man in my position, that is. 

And to him, that meant attempting a shave. Ezra had always preferred the close cut he got with a traditional straight edge razor over the less than satisfactory shave he gave himself when he used multi-bladed tools. When he opened the mirrored cabinet in the bathroom of his and Clara’s room to see that she had kept his silver razor, right there in its case, clean and sharp and ready for him, he took it as a sign that he should try to use it. Clara and Cee were downstairs in the kitchen, finishing up with some dishes before turning in, so he took that as a sign, too, that this was one of the tasks that he may as well attempt on his own.

The left side was easy. There was nothing to relearn or change about his technique there; straight edge razors are meant to be used with the same side hand as the cheek you’re shaving, so aside from the ever present silver arch that cut through his left cheek, the shave was smooth and experienced. He’d even done a relatively clean job of foaming up the right side of his face and throat with the brush. But when he brought his left hand across his body to bring the blade up to his cheek, it was clear that it wouldn’t be simple. The first swipe of the razor took off only a layer of white foam, his angle not quite right, so he turned his chin further, trying to correct course for the next attempt. He could feel his grip start to slip, the awkward position of his hand and arm protesting the strange motion, but he tightened his hold on the handle and brought the razor back up anyway. 

The shake in his fingers caused the blade to slip even more,  and he hissed as it nicked the skin over his jaw. “Fuck,” he bit out, upper lip snared as he turned his cheek to get a better look at the damage. Along with a strip of wiry dark facial hair, he’d removed a small chunk of flesh. Ah, shit. Beads of bright crimson rushed to the raw surface, bleeding red swirls into the white shaving foam that covered the rest of his jaw and throat. Frustration and anger erupted all at once and he threw the razor down into the sink, the heavy metal tool clattering against the porcelain basin dramatically. Letting out a grunt that was close to a growl, he slammed his hand on the counter, sending the canister of shaving cream tumbling to the ground. “Useless fuckin Kevva-damned piece of sh-“

“Hey.”

Clara’s voice came from the doorway behind him, patient and soft, and the tension in his shoulders vanished as he dropped them, letting out a sigh. From anyone else he would mistake her tone of voice as pity, only serving to enrage him further. But not from her. Snapping his eyes up to the glass in front of him, he met her steady gaze in the reflection. Oh, Huckleberry, what did I do to deserve you? 

“Clara…” he croaked out her name, turning as she stooped down to pick up the orange striped can, replacing the lid as she stood. “ I didn’t hear you come up. I’m sorry, I did not mean to cause you any-“ 

“I know, Ezra.” She didn’t let him finish, setting the can on the counter as he leaned back against it. Reaching past him without breaking eye contact, she grabbed the towel that he’d been using and brought it gently to the cut on the right side of his jawline to clean the blood. She pressed lightly with one finger wrapped in the blue fabric against the shallow divot, tilting her head as he raised his hand to encircle her wrist. “Why didn’t you ask me for help, hmm?” 

He swallowed, closing his eyes while she swiped the towel over his skin finally staunching the flow. “Because I need to,” he inhaled as she let the cloth fall into the basin of the sink with a damp plop, letting the breath out and opening his eyes. “I cannot rely on you or Cee or others for everything. I need to be able to do things for myself.” He scoffed then, casting his eyes downward, feeling how they were darkening and not wanting to shed that on her. “I need to get used to…to this.” He nodded at his right arm, lifting the stump an inch or two away from his side to emphasize its abrupt end. 

Clara placed one hand at his waist, the other sliding along the already trimmed and shaved plane of his left cheek, tenderly turning his attention back to her eyes. “Not all at once you don’t.” She swept her thumb over the rounded top of the arched scar, then elevated on tiptoe to kiss the same place. “And in the meantime, I’d rather not have you carve this face up, Ezra.” She kissed him again. “I happen to like it as is.” 

“I am not the capable man that you once knew, Huckleberry.” He shook his head, eyes still locked on hers. “There’s...I am less now.” It felt pitiful to say, pathetic to admit, but a part of him was stuck on the worry that he was no longer enough for a woman like her, no longer enough to be satisfied with his own level of independence. He knew that Clara would never see him that way, that she would never use his situation against him or see him as anything but the man she’d let into her heart, the man that she loved. 

But I want to be… I want to be more for you, Clara. More than this. 

Her answer unstuck that thought all at once. “You listen to me right now, Ezra.” She swallowed before bringing both of her hands to his shoulders, palms pressed to the seams in the sleeves of the shirt he wore, and he felt the weight of her words before she even spoke them. “You are not less. You never were.” Her head jerked from side to side in a quick motion of dismissal, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she was saying had more than one meaning. 

Seth wasn’t your fault. 

That was the subtext to her words as she moved her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, lacing her fingers there. “We’re going to get through this the way we should have in the first place.” He saw the flash of emotion in her eyes, the threat of tears that she pushed aside. He could see the strength of conviction that she felt as she finished. “Together.” She took a deep breath then, leaning into his chest and laying her right cheek against his left, skin to skin so that her next words could travel directly from her lips to his ear. “You will always be everything to me, Ezra. You will never be less.” 

It was a moment that Ezra knew he would not forget as long as he lived. “You are the only woman in all of Kevva’s creation that I will ever love, Clara,” he responded, wrapping his arm around her back to hold her close. “And I will never stop.”  

He felt the weight in his chest lighten as she ran her fingernails through the hair at the base of his skull. Her soft lips pressed to his cheek once more before she straightened up and pulled back to look at him, and despite the intensity of his feelings for her and the gravity of the things they had just said, he felt a genuine chuckle slip out. Oh, my Huckleberry. Before she could question his reaction, Ezra brought his hand up to her face, pointer finger extended to swipe a dollop of white foam from the tip of her nose. “You had...” he smirked, knowing full well that he looked just as ridiculous with half of his face shaved, the other half still covered in foam as she had looked with it smeared on the tip of her nose. 

Her laughter caused her to fall into him again, her warm breath hitting his skin and making him wonder how he ever let something as trivial as a razor work him up. Straightening back up, she finished uncovering the right side of his face. Her hazel eyes focused on what her fingers were doing, one hand tilting his chin to the correct angle, the other skillfully working to match his right cheek to his left, to clean up the rogue patches of hair that wandered down his throat before she trimmed the mustache she never saw him without. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Ezra felt himself fall more in love with her as she worked. When she was done, once she helped him make sure that all of the excess foam and all of the stray hairs were wiped clean, Ezra kissed her more deeply than he had dared to since he had been home. 

He rested his large palm over the side of her face as his tongue slid into her mouth, coaxing hers to meet it as he tilted his head. The new angle pulled a sudden sigh from her lungs, as though reminding the both of them what he was still capable of. The sound escaped their sealed lips and he groaned in response to the scrape of her teeth along the fleshy inside of his bottom one, her teasing bite a sensation that he had craved like a starving man during the years that they spent apart and one that he would never take for granted again. Nothing. Not the flip in his heart when she sighed or the feel of her fingers making fists in his curls. Not the burning need to take a breath or the desperate desire to dedicate all of himself to every inch of her. Not a single moment. Never again, my Clara. 

They had gone to bed then, continuing the kiss until it devolved into something sloppy and sleepy, dragging the tips of their noses over each other’s skin before pressing their lips and tongues to pulse points, tasting the way that they were speeding up one another’s heartbeats. They let their fingertips and the backs of their knuckles, their palms and the pads of their thumbs find swaths of skin across their necks and backs and abdomens, searching for scars they hadn’t seen before, stretch marks, new clusters of freckles. Though they burned to give each other more, to finally reunite the way that both of their bodies thrummed and vibrated with want to, Ezra felt the way that her touch started to slow, couldn’t fight the way that his own energy was waning. Before he could apologize for not being able to show her just how ardently he loved her, how bottomless his passion for her was, he heard her whisper dreamily into his ear. 

“Time for that later, Ezra.” She yawned in the darkness, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against the freshly shaved ridge of his jawline. “So much time now.”

With that she turned her head to lay one more soft kiss to his lips, one that he returned with tenderness, and then she dropped her head to her pillow, letting her fingers follow the length of his arm into the cup of his palm until both of them had fallen asleep. 

Now, on the last morning of the harvest, while the last vestiges of the season’s bright peachy light finally overtook the lazy yellow glow, Ezra watched as she slowly blinked her eyes open. He listened for that change in her breathing, for the moment when she sighed herself awake with a delicate whimper, and as soon as he heard it, he reached for her chin, thumb and the crook of his index finger gently pulling it towards him, only pausing when her lips were close enough to brush his. “Rise and shine, Clara.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, dropping his tone an octave and closing the nearly negligible space between their lips so that his meaning could not be misunderstood. “It’s later, Huckleberry.”         

—  —  —  —  —  —

Cee had been busy. 

The brew basket for the tea machine needed tweaking so that it could be opened and filled single-handedly. There was only one handrail going down the stairs and it was on the wrong side. There were a number of small adjustments to be made around the house to help Ezra regain his independence, and she had taken note of the things that she could see to herself. So many maintenance based or reparative tasks had been designated as hers for so long that Cee knew her way around a tool kit. She had taught herself how to wire small electronics and appliances, how to take things apart and make changes to springs and latches, and so with Clara’s permission she had begun to retrofit certain things like drawer pulls and door handles. 

“Is this your skilled handiwork, birdie?” Ezra had asked the first time he came back downstairs, not needing help because he’d been able to properly brace himself on the banister that she’d added to the other side of the stairs. 

“Took it from the basement,” she answered with a shrug. “Clara said no one goes down there so…” 

“Well the installation is top of the line, very secure.” He gave her a lopsided grin before narrowing his dark eyes and tilting his head. “Thank you, Cee.” 

Those last three words had made all the worry and fear worth it. They facilitated her understanding of what family was- a group of people who tried to make things better for one another by caring. 

Following the temporary return of Ezra’s fever, Cee had searched for any distraction she could find that would occupy her mind, giving it something, anything, to do but worry. Runa and Sig had stayed with her for most of the first day of Ezra’s short backslide, the friendly-faced young man doing his best to keep her spirits up, telling her about the upcoming Harvest Dinner and how it was one of the best nights of the year. She knew that he was trying to stay positive, trying to give her something to look forward to in describing the event, but just the thought of celebration while Ezra’s fate was in flux again felt wrong, like a heavy weight in her stomach. 

How can we just… but what if he doesn’t…and Clara, how can they expect her to still have a damn party when this is what’s… 

It was Runa who had finally been able to start soothing the fear that was again pulsing through Cee’s blood with every beat of her heart. She had tasked Siggi with brewing some tea for the three of them, tossing him a wink before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, at the place where his smile started to pull at his cheeks. He nudged the tip of his nose against hers and nodded, heading directly for the cabinet where Clara kept the tea canister. 

I don’t want tea. I want-

“Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” Runa stood from the small kitchen table where she had been sitting next to Cee, the girl looking up in time to see the woman’s braided hair and beaded earrings sway as she cocked her head towards the screen door. 

Cee threw a nervous glance over her shoulder towards the staircase, the halo of light from the upstairs hallway illuminating the wooden stairs. There was no sign of Clara, no creak in the floorboards to signal movement upstairs, and Abe was still curled in an orange ball at the bottom, waiting like the rest of them. Her bottom lip twitched into a thin line as she turned back to nod. “Okay…” she rose to her feet, one hand gesturing behind herself. “But, just...if-” 

“When Clara comes down we’ll go right back inside.” She smiled, but something in it felt warm and unforced, genuine and trustworthy. Because she’s not trying to pretend that...that everything is okay. “I promise.”  

Cee had followed her out onto the porch then, the woman taking a seat on the steps instead of the bench. The daylight was starting to fade as the star sunk low, half of the fiery peach-pink sphere vanishing behind the treeline. There were still clouds of pollen swirling above the Thulian fields though, meaning that the rest of the farmhands were still out working, even without Clara and Siggi. Life on the farm never stopped, no matter what else was happening, especially as the season came to a close. She silently sat next to Runa, letting out a sigh and leaning her elbows on her knees. 

“You know, I get it.” Runa turned towards her, her slender arms crossed over her own knees. “I understand how… scared you feel.” 

Cee shook her head.  “I…” I doubt it. Cee felt her forehead furrow in confusion at her own thoughts. Runa had been nothing but honest and forthcoming with her, welcoming and warm, giving her no reason at all to doubt her. It was the same sabotage her instincts had tried to pull regarding Clara and Ezra, and she realized it was because she had been taught to trust no one. I didn’t even trust Damon. But the realization came with a second layer- she wanted to trust people. Licking her lips to sweep a stray tear from them, she swallowed and sniffed. “How?” Wiping at her eyes without taking them off of the fields, she felt her right knee start to bounce. “I mean… how can you understand?” 

Runa sighed, her eyes raking over Cee’s face. “You know Sig and I are getting married soon, right?” Still unsure of where this was going, Cee nodded. “Well, the man who is going to walk me to the altar in a few weeks’ time? He’s not my,” she rolled her eyes and gestured flippantly with one hand. “I was adopted. My real parents?” She scoffed. “That word… it only means what you let it, Cee.” Runa reached over to brush her fingers through the ends of Cee’s ponytail. Her light touch was soft and comforting and it made Cee feel more guilty about her initial reaction of distrust. “The people who adopted me, here on Kamrea… they don’t look like me. They weren’t there when I was born. But they’re my family, as much as Ezra and Clara are yours now.” Cee gasped, her eyes widening. They…  “And I know how terrified I would be if I thought I was going to lose them. But you know what?” she let the hand that had been playing in the wispy strands of the girl’s hair fall to her shoulder. “You have to believe he’s going to be okay. He needs that from you. He’s gonna need you to help him fight, because he’s a fighter, Cee. He’s gonna fight to stay here with you and with Clara. So you need to fight, too, yeah?” 

Fight. She needed to fight her conditioning. Her fears. The doubts, the battles that they were all trying to wade through. She had to push back against the tendency to expect the worst, because for the first time in her life she was surrounded by people who deserved the best, who wanted that for her. 

Cee furrowed her brow, nodding in spite of the tears that she failed to stifle. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” Runa smiled, bringing her thumb up to wipe under Cee’s eyes. “I know this is all new for you. But you’ll see. On Kamrea, we fight for every second. And we celebrate everything.” She let out a small laugh. 

Kevva waits, Kamreans don’t. 

Human life, compared to the life of a star, a moon, the galaxy, was painfully brief even when nothing intervened to cut it even shorter. The fact that the people who called the fertile planet home sought out every chance to celebrate milestones was not only understandable but beautiful to Cee. They want to add more pages in their stories while they can. Have more things to remember. Just as she realized she wanted to trust people, she found herself craving moments that would turn to cherished memories. But… She had limited experience with celebrations of any kind, but what she did know was that they required work to plan. How is Clara going to- “Runa?” 

“Hmm?” 

Cee caught her bottom lip between her teeth out of habit before letting it go. “How can there still be a Harvest Dinner?” She shook her head. “Was Sig just saying that to-“

“Siggi only says what he means, Cee.” She used a serious tone but not an angry one. But, how? “Clara told me, as right after you and Ezra got here, that she was going to have to call off the dinner this year.” That makes sense. How is she going to- “And I told her that was absolutely not going to happen.” What? “I told her that this year, we have more of a reason to celebrate than ever.” She must have been able to read the confusion on Cee’s face, because she went on. “Clara has always done so, so much for everyone around her. And she’s never once asked for anything in return.” Cee knew that to be true, firsthand. Runa nodded. “There are so many people who would love to be able to help her now, Cee. So there will be a Harvest Dinner, and Clara won’t have to do a single thing. It’s all being taken care of.” 

And it had been. 

Now, the Harvest Dinner only hours away, Cee couldn’t keep the grin from her cheeks. She had been busy, changing handles, helping Ezra as she could, and getting things ready for the celebration so that when Runa and the rest came with their dishes and trays, all they would have to do was set them out. She found the folding tables in the barn and dragged them out to the yard, pushing them together to make one long rectangular one. Setting out chairs was next, followed by the little place cards that Runa had written out for her. Cee. Ezra. Clara. She grouped the three of them together, adding the rest in front of the remaining seats. Aldo, Kinney, Marta, Molly, Siggi, Runa. So many people. She found the names of Runa’s brothers, Arlin and Jay, and sucked in a breath as she read the latter of the two- she’d been busy getting to know the two boys, both around her age, as they had been coming to help finish the harvest while Clara was taking care of Ezra. 

But Jay had made her smile. He made her cheeks flush with warmth whenever he looked at her, made her stomach fill with butterfly wings the few times he had said her name. When she felt his dark, almost coal black eyes glance her way, she felt a sudden need to inspect her shoes. I… I like him. She smiled to herself, cheeks likely a shade that would match the fluffy bales of Thulian in the silo, and switched the cards around on the table. 

Clara. Ezra. Cee… Jay. Arlin. Runa. Siggi.  

Before she could talk herself out of switching it back, she turned away from the table and headed inside to shower and get changed. The guests would be arriving soon, and she wanted to look her best for her first Harvest Dinner. Though she was clearly smitten with Runa’s brother, the excitement she felt as she took the stairs two at a time had more to do with the fact that finally, after all of the obstacles there was finally something good and fun and happy for them all to enjoy. Together. 

It was her first Harvest Dinner, and before it even started she had just one thought. First one… with my family. 

—  —  —  —  —  —  

It felt like a dream. 

Clara blinked back tears but her elation kept them coming. Her vision was slightly blurred and watery by the time she sat down at the table, faces and smiles all swimming in the warm rosy gold light of Harvest End, the shorn fields of Thulian acting as a backdrop for her happiness. Music played through speakers that Siggi and Cee had set up, laughter and conversation mixing with the melody, punctuated by the clatter of silverware on plates and serving spoons against glass bowls. The smell of fresh baked Crater-Apple turnovers from Molly’s mingled with the honey loaf Runa had baked and the candy-sweet smell of the pollen, just barely able to hide the hint of petrichor, the rain promising to hold off until the Harvest had been properly celebrated. In so many ways, it was like all of the previous Harvest Nights she could remember having at the farm; family and friends, food, warm weather and fuzzy, dizzy feelings of relief and pride and happiness. 

Aside from the obvious reasons, the night had started on a high note when Siggi had accepted her proposal of taking over the farm when she was ready to step down. It was still eight to ten years in the future, but simply knowing that he was on board, that her farm, her family’s legacy was going to be in good, caring, capable hands had removed a weight from her shoulders and her heart. The lightness left behind was only amplified by the surprise and excitement written not only over Siggi’s face but Runa’s as well, the young couple practically floating with all of the love and possibility that existed between them. It added even more to the night of celebration, but despite the fact that she was glad he had accepted, the offer had been part of Clara’s plan even before Kevva had granted her the things she only dared to dream about. 

The night felt like a dream not because of the Harvest Dinner or because the future of the farm was secure, but because when she turned to her right, Ezra was there.

For the thousandth time since the man had come back to her, she felt her heart skip and leap. For the millionth time since hearing the message from Cee, she thanked Kevva and Fate and every blade of grass and grain of sand and clump of soil that he had to tread for leading him home. For a countless, innumerable time, she felt a new space open wider in her chest for the young girl who found him at his worst and reminded him of who he was at his best. 

My Ezra. 

It felt like a dream, because for the first time in five years, Clara had a family that was unquestionably hers. 

He turned then, a grin stuck on his face as his eyes found hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and kissing him, kissing the lips she’d missed as they twitched into an even wider grin beneath her own. I missed you so much, Ezra. Reaching under the table to where it rested in his lap, she took his hand and squeezed. Inside of the short seconds of their kiss, the tiny slice of time that her fingers threaded through his, images of that morning flashed behind her closed eyelids, and she gasped against his mouth as she heard the thick need in his voice as his words played back in her memory.  

“It’s later, Huckleberry.”

He was still a ways out from engaging in anything truly strenuous, his breathing and muscle strength still not at full capacity even if he had finally beaten the lethal infection. But that hadn’t stopped him from doing all that he was able to do to show her that the fire between them had never gone out.

“Even with two hands,” he whispered into her ear as she leaned gingerly back into him, back to his chest where he had pulled her into his lap, “I was never able to hold as much of you as I wanted .” He trailed his tongue up one side of her throat as he let his palm travel slowly down her naked body, a thin moan practically disintegrating as it left her lips at the sensation. You can have as much of me as you want, Ezra, as much of me as-  “Never able to feel, to touch as much of you as I need to at once.” He pressed his hand low over her abdomen, thick fingers splayed wide, the tips of them reaching down between her legs to brush the warm flesh there, and her thoughts splintered into shards at the pressure. “Now, it is an even more impossible goal. Do you know how I’m going to account for that, Clara?”

Her eyes rolled closed at the feel of her name rumbling through his lungs against her back, at the slow movement of his fingers as they traveled further down to where she wanted him most. Her hips rolled into his hand of their own volition and she was immensely glad that her body remembered how to take control because her mind was already a mess. Fuck, Ezra, I- She swore that she could feel each etched ridge of his fingerprints as they passed over her body, each looping pattern. She reached behind herself to grasp a handful of his hair and was rewarded with a husky groan and a light nip of his teeth around her earlobe, and when she spoke her voice sounded foriegn and faint. “Tell me how, Ezra.” 

His hand slid further down until he could tease her with two fingers, languidly circling the slick skin surrounding her core, and when he answered, his words dripped like honey into her ear. “By taking my time with you.” 

There was an eruption of light and heat that blazed through her entire being as he pushed one and then both of the fingers he had teased her with inside of her, and she had to turn her face to bury her moans into his neck so that they couldn’t be heard all the way on the surface of the toxic moon that had torn them apart for so long. She wanted to respond, to tell him that he could take as much time as he wanted, but his touch after so many nights and days without it had completely erased her ability to communicate in anything but gasps and sighs, kisses and whimpers. 

That had possibly been for the best though, as she wasn’t sure what hearing her assurances would do to him in his current state. Already Clara could feel the length of him, hard and stiff where it pressed against her, and she knew that neither of them would last long enough to fully express what they wanted to. “Take-” she gasped as his digits curled and pushed deeper into her. “Take your time, Ezra… so much time now.” 

After he had brought her through multiple waves of ecstasy, Clara found the strength to peel herself away from him, to spin and settle herself between his thighs, her heavy lidded eyes drunk on the taste of him before she even closed her mouth around him. She had been right- he hadn’t lasted long, but she had made sure that he savored every second that he spent trapped between her lips, her tongue trailing over the tip of him to collect every slick drop. Between the heat of his body, the feel and flavor of him, the strained quality of his voice and the shake in his fingers as he dragged them through her hair and over her spine, she was halfway gone again herself. Gonna take my time, too, Ezra. 

There was all of that and so much more to look forward to now and even as she sat at the table next to him, next to Cee and surrounded by all of the people who had come into her life, there in the place that was most important to her, it still felt like a dream.

But it isn’t. 

They had all lost things, had all suffered and had all known pain. They had all battled through darkness and unspeakable nightmares, had endured tests and trials that were enough to push some people past their breaking point, beyond the point where return is even possible. There were still more things, other obstacles that they had to overcome, and even without those, Clara had thought, more than once, that she herself had become a lost cause, another ghost to haunt the living like a cautionary tale about falling too far into love. 

As the coarse hair over Ezra’s upper lip bushed her skin, the man dragging his kiss across her lips and finally pulling back to let her bask in the warmth of his smile, she closed her eyes and leaned the side of her nose along his. 

I’m not dreaming, she finally determined. I’m living. We are living.

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :) 

*** This is the FINAL chapter for this story. The Epilogue, titled Petrichor, will follow the events of this series- But if there are any questions that you have regarding these characters, any scenes that you would like to see or things that you are interested in getting from a different POV, please consider my ask box OPEN! ***