Page 199 of Every Almost

Reyna stopped immediately.

She stood there in the starlight, close enough now that Charlie could see the ache she was trying not to show. But she was still far enough away to give Charlie room to choose.

"Charlie," Reyna said.

Just her name, held gently in Reyna's voice.

TWENTY-FOUR

WHAT WE’VE LOST

Reyna had toldherself she would only stay for ten minutes.

That was a reasonable amount of time. She figured it was long enough to acknowledge the possibility that Charlie might wander here after the Med Bay, but short enough that the act could still be explained if she didn't show. Ten minutes was just a captain making herself available after a catastrophic event occurred to a member of her crew. Reyna always found prudence to be a useful word to fall back on when honesty felt like an inconvenience, and ten minutes was no exception.

Thirty-seven minutes later, she was still on the bench.

The stars filled the viewport in front of her, the whites and blues stark contrasts against the black of space. She had sat in this room after the nightmares that plagued her and after some of Vondra's worst calls. She'd escaped to this room on the anniversaries she remembered only because it was more important to honor the person tied to them. She even came in here on ordinary nights when her quarters felt too small.

She looked at the empty space on the bench beside her.

She left it open. There were other benches, but she had taken the bench on the corner of the viewport, the one where they usually sat, and left precisely enough room for one particular human who never once admitted she'd come here on purpose

That was the problem with facts. They didn't really care what you'd prefer to believe.

Reyna understood that the truth was, Charlie might not come. She could very well be back in her quarters with her datapad. She might want the entirety of the Emberkind starship between herself and what Kess had told her that afternoon. And honestly, Reyna couldn't blame her for any of it.

But if Charlie did come here, and the room was empty, Reyna would never be able to forgive herself. Maybe for reasons she wouldn't name but could admit were beyond the expected.

So, she stayed.

It wasn't because she felt she could fix anything. She knew she couldn't do more than she'd already done. She'd already called Vondra, already pushed every channel that non-contact law would give her, and she'd keep pushing until there was absolutely nothing left. That was her job in this, and she would do it well.

But what she was doing here in this room was not part of the job. This was a particular room at 0300 and a particular space left open on a bench and the particular chance Charlie might walk through that door, with a grief too big for her quarters, and nowhere else on the ship to bring it.

Charlie was standingin the doorway. She was barefoot, her overshirt pulled wrong at one shoulder, and the bracelet she always wore pressed against her wrist. Her fingers were curledinto the shirt's fabric, her knuckles white in their grip. She wasn't crying, but her whole demeanor was something worse than that. Whatever had been holding her together since Med Bay, it was gone. Reyna could see that from across the room.

Reyna was on her feet before she even made the conscious decision to stand.

"Hi," Reyna said softly.

She crossed the room slowly, carefully, afraid that the wrong step would make Charlie bolt out of the room. She stopped close enough to see the knot marks the bracelet had left on Charlie's palm and the dark beneath her eyes.

"Charlie," she said. Just her name, soft and controlled.

She didn't ask if she was okay. The question would only make it worse, and Charlie didn't need Reyna to add one more thing right now.

Charlie's eyes closed.

Reyna stopped mid-step, watching as Charlie’s whole demeanor changed.

And Reyna watched as her breath caught, her shoulders dropped, and she leaned forward. It wasn't a collapse, but instead a giving-in. The weight Charlie had been holding only because nothing had been close enough to lean against.

Reyna caught her.

Reyna brought both arms around Charlie, letting Charlie settle against her. She felt Charlie turn her face into Reyna's shoulder and make a sound, low and broken and muffled by the uniform, and Reyna went still.

Charlie's hands found the back of Reyna's uniform and gripped, hard. This wasn't the polite, measured contact Reyna had spent thirteen years knowing how to return. Charlie was holding on like she meant it, and Reyna couldn't remember the last time someone had.