#thulian

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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  Of all the memories of their bodies entwined in bed or, all the stolen moments in the barn loft or between the rows of Thulian, the afternoons on the bank of the stream, of all the Star soaked mornings and moonlit nights, one single memory presented itself to him then. One memory, of a night spent curled around Clara as he desperately tried to forget the things that had almost kept him from coming home to her. The night he returned with Seth from the first of three trips- Seth’s first stand on the Green. 

Wide-eyed and absolutely high on adrenaline from completing the trip, from touching back down on Kamrea with stories to tell his sister, Seth nearly tripped over himself to get up the steps and into the kitchen that night. Ezra thought that the kid’s cheeks were liable to burst from all the grinning he was doing. He had more than enough reason to be pleased with himself. For a kip, he had done a better than average job when it came to the actual dig, and he was bright enough to keep checking his own filtration and hydration equipment without being reminded constantly. He had collected a good amount of usable data for his field study, too, and would be busy analyzing it until it was time for the second stand. 

But on top of all of that, he’d also stepped in and stopped a horrible act of violence from occurring in the vast forest of Bahkroma Green. 

The increase of attacks by raiders a few years earlier had prompted not only some of the corporate expeditions but also some of the wealthier private companies to hire mercenaries to protect the assets and the prospectors sent to harvest them. On paper they were there to accompany teams to dig sites, to escort full cases of Aurelac back to the orbiter, and to deal with any threats like the Krebines. What they did once they actually stepped out onto the mossy ground though was a completely different story. They operated how they wanted, decided what counted as a threat, what counted as theirs for the taking, and it made Ezra glad that BGCM Co. didn’t hire men and women like these, sell swords who only ever had their own interests centered in hearts devoid of morals. He was glad enough to have his own thrower holstered at his waist along with a few others on his team. He could trust them. He didn’t trust mercs.

He didn’t mind the few that managed to make off with a small pearl now and then. Most of them sacrificed a few fingers, a hand, maybe even their lives when they tried to improperly excavate the gems, so they at least paid some kind of cost for that. But he’d seen them go too far, harassing the peaceful albeit out of touch Sater that had settled on the moon. While normally open to trading with prospectors, the Sater had become more and more withdrawn and skeptical of those who came combing their land for gems. Rightfully so when they come with teams of mercs who negotiated with weapons instead of words. 

Rightfully so when they took a woman from the Sater commune, dragging her kicking and thrashing back towards their camp.

Seth had been a few paces ahead of Ezra, so he’d seen her first, heard her first despite not being on the same frequency as the one in her helmet. He tore off through the trees, letting Ezra know what he’d seen through the radio link, letting him know that they needed to help. Ezra had run after him, drawing his thrower and charging it as he cursed under his breath, panting from the sudden change of pace and the saturation of his crusted filter. He tried to call to Seth to get him to stop, not to rush in half-cocked, but he wasn’t quick enough. All he could do was follow, hoping like hell that it would be enough. 

Luckily for Seth, the mercs decided that the Sater woman wasn’t worth their trouble, shoving her into him as soon as the young man caught up to them. Ezra had told him to get the shaking, traumatized woman back to her people and that he’d be right behind him, and Seth, arm loosely around the woman who appeared to be the same age as Clara, was all too eager to agree and get her away from the harm that both of them knew those men would have inflicted upon the woman.  

But he never knew the whole picture… the consequences that his heroic actions provoked. 

Ezra had followed Seth and the terrified woman he’d rescued, but at enough of a distance that he would be able to intervene if the men that took her decided to come back. And they did. With guns. 

They would have hunted him down. They would have killed him. I had to. 

He whipped around and fired two shots; two well aimed shots that hit two targets. Ezra knew that the mercs wouldn’t stand to lose their prize, that they’d return, tails back out from between their legs to wreak havoc on the team of prospectors who dared to interrupt and intercept their spoils. He knew that it was kill or be killed, and he knew that he promised Clara that he would keep her brother safe up there. So that was what he did. He never told Seth though, that the men had come back or that he had killed them, just that the younger man had done the right thing. 

The night that they returned home to the farm, after the three of them had finished dinner with Siggi and a few of the other farmhands that were still in town after the harvest season, after Seth had gone up to the attic room where he’d taken to staying when he was home from school, Ezra finally let himself feel the cost of what he’d done. 

I’m a killer. I shot two men. 

Clara closed the door behind her as they made it to their room, and he knew that she could tell that he was off. “Hey,” she reached for him instantly, hands landing on his upper arms, one sliding up to the side of his neck as he wrapped her up. 

But if I didn’t do it we’d… we wouldn’t have made it home and I… 

“Ezra, whats- ” 

But he didn’t let her finish the question, kissing the rest of her words away. “Need you, Clara.” He felt that need in white hot bursts as soon as her lips responded to his, and he spoke against her quickly warming skin as she moved even closer, pressing herself to him. “Need to-“

“I’m right here, Ezra,” her response came out in a shaky, breathless whisper, and he felt her chest expand into his as she tried to even out her breathing. She reached up to ghost the tips of two fingers over the curved scar on his cheek, her eyes searching his for any signs of what was different in him. He looked down through his eyelashes and watched her tongue flick out to wet her lips. “I’m right here.” 

You are. He leaned in to kiss her again, parting her lips hungrily as he bent his knees and dropped his hands to the backs of her thighs. Thumbs and fingers flexing to bunch the material of her dress, he lifted her as he stood without breaking away. She whimpered into his mouth, surprised by the sudden motion, but followed his lead and crossed her ankles securely behind his back, one hand on his jaw and the other at the base of his skull. I am, too. I’m right here. 

He brought her to the bed in two long strides, lowering her to the mattress and climbing in with her, wasting no time in discarding her clothing, sparing no seconds on cleverly worded teases or promises. Clara let him take control, and even though he could feel her concern in the way that she touched him, could see it in her eyes when they flashed open, she didn’t try to stop him or ask him to explain. 

She knows. Knows I need this. 

Right hand cupping her cheek, he filled his left with her hair, the soft strands in his rough palms grounding him, reminding him that what he’d been so afraid of losing for the last few cycles on the Green was right here. Again he kissed her, muttering her name, the rest of his words indecipherable to her as she kissed him back. Mirroring his touch, she rested one hand against his jaw, pointer finger finding the bare patch in his otherwise slightly overgrown beard, the other hand going to the back of his head and making a loose fist in the curls there. She didn’t ask him to repeat what he said, just parted her lips to invite his tongue to slide along hers. But he knew what he’d said. 

Clara, my Huckleberry, I almost lost everything. 

He had never truly been afraid of anything the way that the close call with Seth and the mercs had scared him, and it wasn’t because of what could have happened to him that had him shaken to his core. It was the thought of losing her, losing another chance to see her, hear her laugh, hold her close, smell the ripe Thulian pollen sticking to her hair. It was the thought of him not being able to protect Seth for the remaining two stands that they were committed to. It was the thought of Clara having to receive news of Ezra’s death, the thought of leaving her after so little time together and so much of it waiting on the horizon. It was all of those things at once, and the only remedy for that fear was her. 

One arm going under her to steady both of them, Ezra groaned, top lip curling against hers as he pushed inside of her. She sucked in a gulp of air then breathed out his name unevenly as he felt her adjust beneath him. As soon as he felt her hands moving from his hips to his back, he pulled her upright, kneeling back on his knees and using one hand to direct her thighs to either side of his body. Complying completely with this new position, Clara let out a small cry, clutching him even closer as he rocked his hips up into her, the sound pulling another throaty rumble from Ezra. 

Sometimes when he came home from the Green, his hunger, his desire to taste her moans and feel himself deep inside her was so strong that he couldn’t bear to take his time. Other times he savored the starvation, taunting her with his tongue and using his fingers to bring her to the edge before crawling back up the bed, a crooked smile on his face as she let out wanton whines. He’d trail his fingers up from her navel to her chest, watching as her torso rolled with his touch, and then he’d be right there. Lining his hips up with hers, the tip of him teasing her entrance, he would take her earlobe between his teeth and say something to enhance the gasp she let out as their bodies joined. 

This was different. He always wanted her close, but this was fueled by more than desire. Finally breaking the kiss, he rested the side of his face against hers, the two of them breathing deeply, he lay her back down and continued to slow the pace of his hips, drawing out and lengthening each thrust. His lips drifted over the top of her cheek, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pressed between her shoulder blades. This wasn’t about pleasure or release. He needed her close, needed to feel her hot breath on his ear when she moaned his name, needed to leave his fingerprints over every inch of her skin, needed to feel the way she made his heart race as it pounded alongside hers. He needed to forget what he’d almost lost by losing himself in what he had, and she let him. 

Later that night she held him as he lay against her chest, her fingers once again moving through his hair. The window was cracked open, a cool breeze drifting in, the songs of crickets and other night creatures coming in with it. He felt her take a breath and then her soft voice was joining the nocturne as she asked the question she’d tried to get an answer to upon closing the bedroom door. “Are you gonna tell me what happened up there, Ezra?” 

There was nothing accusatory or suspicious in her tone, though he could sense that she was worried and he knew it was because she could feel the fear rolling off of him earlier. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her, and as he let out a breath it shook, hitting her skin in bursts.  

She repeated his name in a hushed whisper, and then her lips were buried in his hair. “Please talk to me. I know something’s… something happened to you.” He felt her swallow before she continued. “Something you don’t want Seth to know because you-“ 

Ezra cringed, his eyelids creasing as he shut them tighter before peeling them open and sitting up. I have to tell her. She needs to know what kind of- 

Clara let her hand fall from his hair to slide down his arm, tilting her head to look him in the eye as she went on. “At dinner you were acting like you always do when you come home but then when we came up here you-“ 

“Clara, I’m afraid.” They were words he’d never said to her, and they both felt how foreign they sounded coming from him. 

Her eyebrows came together, forehead furrowing in confusion as she shook her head. “Hey, there’s nothing to… you’re okay, Ezra, you’re home. You both are. Nothing can-“ 

“No, Huckleberry, you’re not understanding me.” He took her hands in his then, staring down at his thumbs in the cups of her palms, tracing the long arching line that ran from the base of her middle finger to just below her pinky. “I’m afraid that when I tell you you’ll think differently about the kind of man that I am and-“ 

“Ezra.” She spoke his name firmly, fingers closing to trap his thumbs inside her hands. “There is nothing you could ever say to me to make me love you any less than I do. Nothing that could make me think... All I care about is that you come home to me, that you’re safe. I know you, Ezra. I know what kind of man you are, I know-“ 

“I’m a killer.” Her eyes widened slightly, mouth dropping open at his confession. “I shot two men, I’m-“ 

“You had to.” The words rushed out in a whisper as she relaxed her fists, releasing his thumbs. “You had to, right? Self… self defense. The Krebines they’re-“ 

“They weren’t raiders, Clara they… they were mercs, and it…” He sighed. “It was more an action of self preservation than defense. They were… Seth, he…” Ezra glanced over at the mirror, eyeing himself in the dim light. “No one understands the Fringe until they’re in it. And Seth has no business bein’ on the Green.”

Ezra slowly told her everything. The Sater woman Seth had saved, the mercs that Ezra had tracked and put down so that they wouldn’t come back seeking revenge on the kid who took their prize away. He told her how young the two he shot appeared, how the sound of the one closest to him hitting the ground would stay with him until the day he died. He told her that for the remainder of the trip afterwards he was constantly looking over his shoulder to be sure that others from his victims’ team weren’t out looking to even the score. The way he questioned whether or not he was right to do what he did. 

By the time he’d explained it all, tears had streaked down both of their faces. “Ezra,” she reached for his cheek, letting her palm conform to its curve. “You did what you had to do to come home. To bring Seth home.” Swiping her knuckles under his eye, she collected a salty droplet. “I’m sorry that’s what it took. That you have to… carry that now.” It weighed terribly on his heart, the label he’d incurred and she could see it. “But that doesn’t make you a killer. You’re not ruthless or cruel. You don’t… Kevva, even I have a thrower. Sometimes things just-“ 

“You’ve never pulled the trigger. Not even when Briggs… You’ve never pointed it at a man and-

“And I hope I never have to. Ezra, I won’t pretend to know how you’re feeling about this. But I do know you. You’re the man that threw himself in front of a sickle for me. The man who helped me keep this farm when my father got sick. The man who looks out for Seth like he’s your own brother, that helped Siggi find his feet.” She shook her head then and used both hands to bring his left one up to the center of her chest, placing it over her heart. “I know you, Ezra, and I love you. Completely.” 

He kissed her then, the taste of both of their tears mingling on his tongue, and then they’d fallen back into one another, illustrating the love they’d both just professed and affirmed again. Just as the sky outside began to lighten to a muted grayish pink, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, all thoughts of the conversation and Ezra’s conflict forgotten for at least a few blissful hours. 

He blinked at his reflection in the freestanding mirror and winced. Can’t do that this time, can we Huckleberry? 

As badly as he had wanted to ask her to stay with him the night before, skip ahead and fall back into the comfort of her body resting next to his, he knew that it couldn’t happen. They owed each other far more than that. The debts they’d incurred against one another couldn’t be settled with a few hours of familiarity. The scent of her skin and how it mixed with the smell of the fabric softener on the sheets, the sound of her steady breathing in the darkness- it wasn’t enough, and he knew it. 

But when he looked back down at the bed beside him, at the place where Clara had been sitting the previous night while they talked, he realized that he didn’t remember her leaving the room. I told her these patches send me straight to sleep and she… He dropped his palm to the wrinkled sheets, and he couldn’t tell if they felt warm or if he just wanted them to.  

“I won’t stay, I just…”  

He thought he heard her speaking as he let the medication swallow him whole, thought that there was something in her voice. But… Ezra let his eyes skim over the empty pillow. Did you stay, Clara? Did you- He gripped the sheets, twisting them in his fist as he swallowed. Did you want to forget, too? The sharp, stabbing sensation that pierced his chest then had nothing to do with his injuries, stemming instead from the possibility that she had been right there, asleep next to him for precious hours, and he was so far under the sedative waves of his medication that he may as well have still been on the Green Moon. 

But he wasn’t, and the fact that he even had the chance to feel the sheets beside him and wonder if the warmth there was left behind by the love of his life or just the early glow of the Harvest Star pouring through the glass panes was not lost on him. Nor was the fact that she’d even agreed to try to bridge the chasm they’d created. Do you think we can, Clara? 

He let out a breath, pushing himself up slowly so that he could see out the window that overlooked the fields. Small clouds of shimmering pollen wafted above the grass to indicate where each worker stood, hacking the tops with their curved blades. It was impossible to tell from here who was who, but his chest tightened at the simple thought that one of them was Clara. He wished with everything in him that he could be out there with her, sweating in the heat and laughing at the jokes the other farmhands told, topics ranging from cheesy to crude. He wished he could see the way the pink powder would look smeared over her lips, wished he could taste the faint sweetness of it by yanking the bandana down from over her mouth and stealing a kiss between the rows of Thulian. His right shoulder throbbed and the wound in his chest stung slightly, but if he could get himself down to that field, down to where she was, if he could just immerse himself in a moment like that, it would have made him forget the pain entirely. 

Instead, he reached for the small cup on the side table where Clara had left his morning dose of medication, tossing the two yellow pills back and washing them down with the glass of water beside them. They weren’t as strong as the patches that he’d been wearing, so while that meant that he could take them without falling right back to sleep, it also meant that they took longer to start working. Tentatively stretching his neck, he placed his hand behind his head and let out a grunt as dull pop came from his spine, releasing tension that had been building for days. According to his medical paperwork, he was supposed to start trying to move around, and would be able to eat real food, not just the nutrition tablets he’d been sustaining on. Looking down at his still considerably bandaged chest, he let his eyes travel down the rest of his body, and what he saw made him frown. He’d lost weight and muscle tone in his convalescence, which meant that he wasn’t only fighting with his lungs and re-learning how to live without his dominant arm, he’d have to rebuild his entire body. There was no part of him that could sit this fight out. 

Waiting for the painkillers to kick in, he thought about the night before and how many similarities it bore to the night that he had just recalled. He and Clara, there in that room, in that bed, discussing what they didn’t know back then would be the very crack that caused things to fall apart. Admitting to what he was, a killer- the number of lives he’d taken much higher now, the weight on his heart so heavy that the thing had collapsed. She had told him all those years ago that nothing could ever make her love him less and he wondered if that was still true. Even on the day that he left Kamrea with no idea when or if he would be back, she had told him that she loved him. 

“You’ve killed people, Ezra. But you are not a killer. You’re the man that I love.”   

That was the last thing she said to him as he left her to let the man she loved seek vengeance openly. He chose violence over healing then, chose his own pain and regrets over her and hers. In the months following Seth’s death, he was present, there on the farm with her, but he wasn’t himself, already becoming consumed with the desire for revenge. In the years it had taken him to finish settling the score, tracking down and eliminating every last one of the mercenaries that worked on the crew with the man who had shot Seth, Ezra had also missed the chance to be there for her when her father passed away. He had fallen ill only about a year after Ezra and Clara met, the man suffering from severe dementia already when he hired Ezra in the first place. While he was with her and Seth when they had to have their father committed to a long term care facility in another city a few hours away, he wasn’t there when she had to bury him, and neither was Seth. As far as he was concerned, if Clara had never met him at the very least she would have had her brother there with her to help her through that loss. 

How could you still love me, Huckleberry? 

As soon as the thought crossed his mind though, he pressed his palm to the sheets again and knew that the warmth he felt there wasn’t due to the light coming through the glass. She had forgiven him for not being there when she lost her father, claiming that she had come to terms with losing him the day that she, Ezra and Seth drove the man to the memory loss care facility. He had been struggling for years, and when his disease became too unpredictable and dangerous to let him keep working, he became resentful and angry, lashing out at anyone within earshot and then crumbling from the guilt he felt from the things he’d said or done if he remembered them at all. She had already lost him then, she said, so she didn’t hold Ezra’s absence at that time against him. 

Clara had even told him that she didn’t blame him for what happened to her brother. She knew that Ezra was right when he said that Seth had no reason to be out in the Fringe. He wasn’t cut out for the way that life was that far from civilization, wasn’t cutthroat enough. She apologized to him for the things that she said right after Seth was killed, that it was Ezra’s fault because he was supposed to keep him safe. She said that she realized years later that she never apologized for that even when she still had the chance to pull him back, closer to the love that they had instead of letting him drift further away.

He realized then, as the pills he’d swallowed started working to numb the ache in what was left of his arm and ease the sting of the wound in his chest, that a large part of how all of this would turn out depended on how much of it he could forgive himself for. Even though he never wavered in the mission that had led him to killing six more people, the last of which just a cycle before running into Cee and Damon on the Green, he knew that it wasn’t the answer. In truth he was afraid to go home, afraid that he wouldn’t be enough for Clara, afraid that there was no chance for them to ever be what they once were with so much of their lives broken all around them. But having served the last of the mercs their overdue justice, he had set that fear aside, only sticking with #2 as long as necessary to find a way to get himself off of the moon and back to Kamrea. 

There was a knock on the door to the bedroom then, Ezra clearing his throat and letting whoever it was know that they could enter. He watched as the knob turned and Cee’s young face filled the frame, the girl carrying a plate in one hand and a book in the other, Abe weaving in and out of her ankles as she walked into the room trying not to drop anything or step on the cat. “Outta the way, furball,” she mumbled down at the animal who responded with an emphatic shout as he ran to jump into the window seat where he curled up and blinked twice at Ezra before promptly falling asleep. 

He watched Cee close the door, still balancing the things she held before she turned to face him. “Morning,” she said, her eyes raking anxiously over him in assessment of his recovery. “How are you feeling?” 

It hit him in that moment just what Cee really meant to him. She was the proof that he wasn’t a lost cause. She was the thing that had made him remember who he was and what things were worth risking danger for. She was the Sater woman that he and Seth rescued from the mercs. She was Seth, too young and innocent and good for the Fringe. She was Clara, already shouldering so much weight in life. She was his chance at redemption and he was her chance at stability and it hit him that no matter what he’d done in the past, no matter how things shook out in the future, he couldn’t fail her in that. He realized that being there for her meant that he needed to pull through, fight through whatever he had to to be there for the girl who had brought him back and for the woman who was seemingly giving him one more chance. 

“Just peachy keen, Birdie,” he answered, hoping that the cough that followed his response covered any waver in his voice.  

He saw her face soften as she gave him a half-smile. “Good. Clara said that you’re supposed to try to eat something today, and someone just came to drop these off downstairs so...” Walking over to the bedside, she set the plate down next to his glass of water, and Ezra caught a glimpse of the triangular pastry that she’d brought him, the tell-tale shape of the Crater-Apple Turnover from the bakery in town just one more sign that he was where he was supposed to be. “I already had one, they’re…” she let out a burst of air in the form of a laugh. “Taste a lot better than the slurry packs or anything I’m used to.” 

Ezra let out a chuckle and to his surprise it didn’t end in a choke. “That is an understatement if my memory serves me correctly.” He remembered all the times he’d stopped into the bakery in town on his way home from a stand on the Green, Molly, the woman who owned it eventually slipping a few extras into his order as the years went by and she familiarized herself with his routine. 

Cee hopped up into the window seat, sliding the sleeping cat over so that she could stretch, opening a book. Clara must’ve given her another- He squinted at the block lettering on the book’s cover, reading the smaller subtitle below Clo & Revie which read “A Sequel to The Streamer Girl”. When he looked back up at Cee her eyes were all he could see over the open book, but they were bright and beaming and he knew it was because she was lost in a brand new world with familiar friends. He knew that look, that light was put there by Clara. He knew because at one time he had that same light in him and he had let it go out. You’re still shining, Huckleberry. You never stopped, did you?  

As he broke off the corner of the turnover revealing the Crater-Apple, walnut and currant filling, he felt that the darkness might finally be fading.  

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