#birdymary

The children would be meeting him at the spaceport soon. In unspoken agreement, Chrisjen and Arjun had changed nothing about their routine on this, their last morning together for who knew how long. But his eyes lingered on her as she moved through their home, trying to memorize every moment.

He had made love to her last night the way he had when they were young: slow, thoughtful, savoring every inch of her skin. His hands said the things his lips would never speak. I cannot bear to be apart from you. Save yourself; run away with me. He would not burden her with the aching of his heart. He knew as well that the words would be fruitless. If she ran from this, she would become only a shadow of the woman that he loved. Chrisjen could never abandon Earth and keep her self-respect.

So he kept silent, and busied himself making certain she would feel his absence as little as possible. The bags of tea were topped off; the kitchen was programmed to brew her a carafe of the lapsang souchong at 0500 when she would awaken, and a ginger and chamomile blend at 1900 when she was due to arrive home. And to keep it warm for her when she would inevitably be late.

His body was heavy with the things he would not say.

He would not be there to rub her feet at night, forcing her to relax a while. He found the little foot bath one of the children had gifted to Chrisjen years ago, the one that bubbled jets of heated water, which she had never used. He set it out on the coffee table in hopes that she would take the hint. On his way to the spaceport he would call her assistant and make sure he scheduled an appointment for their favorite massage therapist to make a house call later in the week. And to make the man promise not to let her cancel it.

“Call me every night,” Arjun said, standing before his wife in the kitchen, having reached the end of his list of things to prepare before he left her to face her enemies alone. “I need to know that you are at least coming home in the evenings, and remembering to take the mask off for a while.”

“They will be monitoring our communications. I will not be able to share my burdens with you.” Chrisjen looked up at him, finally letting him see her apprehension, and her sadness. “That will be hard on me. They can only think that I still fear the usual things: Mars, the O.P.A… I will not be able to show you how much it hurts to not be able to trust my own people.”

“But you will know that I know the truth, my love, and that will be enough. When you call and speak of safe and small things, we will drink deeply of each others’ eyes, and they will not know the depths that pass between us.”

Chrisjen smiled weakly, her eyes still sad. “What am I going to do without you, dear one.”

“I could stay,” Arjun pointed out. He was not afraid.

His wife shook her head. “I need to know that you are safe. I need to reduce the chances that you could be used against me.” Arjun nodded. “Just do one last thing: kiss me,” she said, unexpectedly maudlin.

Eagerly, Arjun folded her into his arms and pressed his lips over hers. Chrisjen melted into him for only one brief, shining moment. Then she straightened, pulling back into herself. “I won’t make you late,” she said against his mouth, sliding her hands down his sides.

“My love, for you I would be late for a meeting with the Creator.” He made one eyebrow jump as he gazed down at her. “Or perhaps miss it entirely.”

Chrisjen’s smile reached her eyes this time. “Keep that silver tongue in your mouth and save those lines for when I am really going to need them. Go. And don’t forget to hug the babies for me.”