I make the connection and hold my breath. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the quantum processor begins to glow, its crystalline heart pulsing with steady light as Earth-built power systems feed it the clean, stable energy it needs.
“It’s working,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loudly and somehow break the spell.
“The quantum core is stable,” Ja’war confirms, but there’s wonder in his voice too. “Your power regulation system is... elegant. Intuitive in ways I didn’t expect.”
The compliment warms me from the inside out, and I find myself smiling despite everything. “Thanks. Though I have to admit, once I understood it was basically a really advanced engine that needed clean power and proper cooling, the rest was just creative problem-solving.”
“Perhaps it does. Xarian engineering is designed to be adaptive, to find solutions rather than demand rigid compliance. Your Earth systems are...” he pauses, studying my jerry-rigged power regulation setup, “...surprisingly compatible.”
“Kind of like people, then.”
“Yes,” he says quietly, and when I look up, his expression is soft, almost tender. “Very much like people.”
The moment stretches between us, warm and full of possibility. And that’s when the crushing realization hits.
“How long?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“For the full integration? Perhaps another thirty minutes to complete, then—”
“No.” I turn back to the components, unable to look at him. “How long until you leave?”
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Fiona...”
“Once we finish these repairs, once your ship is functional again, you’ll deliver your medical cargo and then what?” The words come out in a rush, all the fear I’ve been pushing down finally breaking free. “Back to your courier routes? Your solitary life traveling between stars?”
“That was the plan,” he says carefully.
“Right. The plan.” I laugh, but it sounds bitter even to my own ears. “And where does that leave me? Back to my garage, my isolation, my carefully constructed life that feels pretty fucking empty right now.”
“Fiona.” His voice is gentle, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “What are you saying?”
Everything. I’m saying everything I shouldn’t. “I’m saying I’m helping you leave me. Every successful connection, every working interface, every step closer to a functional navigation system is one step closer to watching you disappear forever.”
The truth hangs between us like a live wire.
“Is that what you think will happen?” he asks. “That I would simply... leave?”
“Wouldn’t you?” I meet his eyes then, and the vulnerability in them makes my chest tight. “You have duties. Responsibilities. A life out there among the stars. And I have... this garage and a talent for fixing broken things.”
“You have much more than that.” He moves closer, his presence filling my space in that way that makes me want to lean into his strength. “You are extraordinary, Fiona. You see solutions where others see impossibilities. You help strangers who don’t deserve your kindness. You’ve built something magnificent from nothing.”
“But I’m still just a small-town mechanic.”
“You are so much more.” His fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You are the woman who has made me question everything I thought I knew about duty versus desire. About following orders versus following my heart.”
My breath catches. “Ja’war...”
“For three years, I have told myself I was being patient. Professional. That I was earning the right to approach you properly.” His thumb traces my jawline with devastating gentleness. “But the truth is, I was terrified. Terrified that you would see me as the monster your people believe me to be. Terrified that you would reject what I am, what I need.”
“What do you need?”
“You.” The word is rough, desperate. “I need you beside me when I wake in the morning. I need your laugh when the universe feels too vast and cold. I need your hands in mine when I face the next impossible repair, the next dangerous run.”
“That’s not a life you can offer,” I whisper. “You’re a courier. You travel constantly, alone. It’s your job.”
“Jobs can change. Routes can be modified. I am very good at finding creative solutions to impossible problems.” His smile is small but fierce. “And I have spent three years learning exactly where I want to be stationed.”
